|
lestermgee
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Lester
Country: United States
State: Arizona
Metro: Tucson
Birthday: 3/29/1979
Gender: Female
Interests: books, new food, social justice issues, philosophy, art, anatomy/physiology, shopping for clothes, documentaries about virtually anything, current events, celebrity gossip, knitting, live music, history, trying to speak Spanish, cat care and grooming, plays, poetry, candles, pretty bracelets, trendy purses, undermining the Religious Right whilst believing in Jesus, cancer research, compassion, travelling to new places, coffee, things that smell like lavender, and my wonderful, wonderful friends
Expertise: Mexican food, CPR, driving a stick-shift, spending money
Occupation: Medical
Industry: Medical
Message: message me
Member Since:
10/13/2005
|
|
| This is how I found myself describing someone the other day: "Oh, you know... he reads shit like Hunter Thompson and Kerouac and William Burroughs because he thinks he's cool." And what I totally love? The friend I was talking to TOTALLY got what I meant, and we commiserated about how much we both hated Naked Lunch. I love talking to people who understand others like I do; people who recognize what kind of person a person is by their books. It makes for such convenient short-hand when describing people. Like: "Oh, you know, the kind of person who takes notes while reading Ayn Rand," or, "You know, her favorite book was something by John Grisham." To describe my own literary ridiculousness I would say, "You know. The one who has had copies of several classics sitting around her house for years and would somehow rather read Vonnegut books than plow through War and Peace." That being said, a friend and I are going to read War and Peace together because we're both intimidated by it. I'm even thinking of getting some kind of study guide to better help me know what the hell is going on. I saw or read somewhere that War and Peace has more characters than any novel ever written (or something). I quit writing on my blogger blog entirely. With my parents moving out of the house I grew up in, me leaving nursing forever, turning 29 and a couple other things, I feel like the first part of my life is officially over. Everything I've done before now feels like someone else did it. I'm finally, finally ok with so many things that I never though I would be, I have more hope and feel like other things are more within my reach than I ever have before. So, I'm changing some things around because it's time for me to make some decisions and then follow through on them. That is what adults do, after all. | | |
| This is how ridiculously small Tucson is: Tonight I watched the leading, top story on the local news. The anchorman telling the story is my close friend's on-off-on-off boyfriend of four years. I know him pretty well. The story took place at my former place of employment and so there was an interview with my former boss. Then there was an interview with the president of the county coucil on aging and that turned out to be the father of the Tucson's most-loved morning DJ. I know they are related because they used to live in Bisbee - so of course I know them. The wife/mother taught the gifted program when I was in fifth grade; she yelled at me for reading something in the trash one day. So anyway, I knew everyone - anchorman included - who appeared on TV as part of this story. I think maybe I should move. | | |
| My secret? I'm not afraid anymore.
When I was in grade school, I took up dancing, gymnastics, piano, the flute, karate, basketball, singing and tennis because I was certain I would excel at any one of these. And while I wasn't great at all of this, I kicked ass at the things I really cared about and ignored things I found irrelevant (like math). I won spelling bees, got the lead roles in plays, skipped a belt in karate and was always first chair flute. I didn't feel particularly complimented when people commented on my ability to over-achieve because I figured the whole world would eventually recognize my extreme competence in all matters. I carried this attitude with me into high school and it isn't like I consciously thought about perseverance or diligence, I was just capable of both when I had to be. Whatever I wanted to do, I found a way to make it happen. It didn't occur to me to doubt myself for most of my life.
Then something changed. I don't know how or when, but somewhere along the way I got bogged down in worrying over what other people thought of me, what the rest of the world would consider successful and I went into a lengthy period of decision-paralysis. This is how I ended up with a nursing license, still in Tucson, on anti-depressants... For some reason I lost the ability to envision my future and work toward it. I've been ignoring my dreams, telling people I'm content and in love with my life, trying to convince myself that comfort is as good as happiness. Well it's not.
I had a bit of a breakdown last week. It was brought on by a lot of things, but my existential dissatisfaction was at the root of it all. This time though, instead of turning to drugs or food or moving back in with my parents, I high-tailed it into my counselor's office and spent about fifteen hysterical minutes raving about how my cousin just killed himelf, I loathe my job, I was seemingly having the worst time of anyone in my family coping with the suicide and I knew it was all tied up in guilt over how crazy I was a few years ago.
John (therapist) listened to all this and then spoke the words of a sage: "You're so unhappy with where you are, you're afraid you're going to end up like your cousin. And now that you're dealing with a family member actually killing himself, you're seeing how that's never the right choice. Plus, I think your parents may have - without meaning to, of course - caused you to feel some guilt about everything that happened when you were depressed."
We made a plan. I'm taking two weeks off of work. Today I started looking into freelance writing jobs and almost immediately completed an article about when it is appropriate to move your parent into a nursing home. The solicitation for elder-care articles had been removed by the time I was finished writing, but it reminded me that I'm good at this. The two hours I spent piecing words together and thinking of as many approaches as possible were the two most enjoyable hours I've spent in a long time. I can do this, I thought. I can still do this, I can still do whatever I want.
And so I'm hopeful. Hopeful that even if I stay at my job for another year or another five, I'll have the discipline to make time to do what I love and eventually gain enough experience to be good. Really good.
It's like... I'm back. | | |
| Since those of you who read this blog might actually recognize these people, here are some pictures of the big event: 
The hot couple and the adorable flower girls. 
The hot bridal party. (Although it was pretty chilly out on that dock.) 
The engaged people. 
The most beautiful wedding flowers I've ever seen. 
Aww. 
The bouquet toss. (Yes that is me lunging away from the cursed thing.) | | |
| Last night at happy hour, the bartenders busted out with Trivial Pursuit cards and spent awhile proving that I am a fount of random facts. I kept telling the dude that if he wanted to stump me completely, the only thing he had to do was ask a sports question. (I view sports trivia as information which is superfluous to real life and, like cigarettes and interest rates, is used by the upper class to oppress the masses. Also, it really isn't fair to anyone to ask me anatomy/physiology questions.) Here's what he stumped me with: "What was the Kennedy clan's favorite recreational game?" I said tennis. Evidently, the Kennedys were into touch football and to celebrate this, Marcus the bartender (we were all on a first name basis at this point) rang a bell over the bar. Jennifer proclaimed, "I'm the dumbest one here!" I pointed out that she was the only one with a masters degree. She deemed her masters in educational psych "useless," (nevermind that she's a guidance counselor and secretly loves it like I secretly love my job) which led to Kristina pointing out that her B.A. is in English literature. Which led to some question about a character in a book that we all answered at the same time. Shortly thereafter it was decided (against my fondest wishes, but whatever) that our book club should meet monthly so everyone has time to finish the book. Since book club is more an excuse to get together and watch The Office or drink beer or gossip about boyfriends, I'm basically ok with this. I've decided that to get my fill of thinking about the book, I'll just use the time between reading and discussing the book to write essays about it. I love doing that, it'll fill the void, and I'll feel prepared for discussion with Xtina and her index cards.
At one point, as we tripped outside to smoke cigarettes and giggle about how we were absolutely the loudest people in TGIFridays on a Monday night, Jennifer proclaimed, "This is what I always imagined being a woman was like!" And I knew exactly what she meant. | | |
|
