My Big Fat Flaw

I am too nice. There. I said it. That is my big, fat flaw. I have trouble disappointing people, trouble saying no, trouble telling someone the truth, and trouble ignoring someone. People have frequently invaded my room until unseemly hours when all I wanted to do was lie face down on the floor and sink into unconsciousness like the girl from Psycho. But I couldn't get them out of my room to do that, because I am too nice. When someone asks me if I want to go out to lunch and I really don't want to, I have to say yes because I am too nice and am unable to say no. Or, in the rare case, I say "you know, today isn't a really good day for me, I've got a lot of homework and housework, so maybe we could do something another time." In that simple sentence, I have given them hope and failed to bar the door in their face, and, in doing so, hindered them from moving on. I limit their possibilities and their opportunities by cruelly leaving them hanging and hoping. This is the result of an abundance of nicety. Why do I have this problem? Maybe it was how I was raised. I was aways a super-polite kid. Even now, when I loan a pencil to someone, I say thank you when they give it back to me, despite the fact that it is, in all reality, they who should be thanking me. I am the type of girl who will say anything to anyone to keep them happy. I will blast myself and find some shred of happiness for them to latch onto. And I'm not happy unless everyone else is happy, so it is necessary for me to go to great lengths to please people. People pleasers. We are so maleable. Our only comfort is each other. My cousin is a people pleaser, like me, and I find support in her. We share the same issues in our lives and same worries. We worry when someone close to us is suffering, and we, too, suffer. We often let out personal needs go, and sacrifice our well-being for that of others. We also misstep so often, because we so want to please but we can't understand the signals, and don't know how to offer help. Maybe there is a purpose to the eternally bobbing helium balloons of our personality. Maybe our people pleasing is just what others need: someone to pity and accomodate them. We are the ones to take in the wounded and hurt, sheltering and nursing them until they once again fly. We are the conflict resolvers and the keepers of the peace. We are the ones who pry into the hearts of others in an attempt to help them heal with sharing. We are the ones who suffer alone at times, because we have no one to please us and ask us to open our secret souls. Yet, we are what we are. It is a gift, and a curse. And I would not trade it for anything.

My Turn at YouTube

My mother is getting really savvy at this whole internet thing, and she has her own blog on this site as well. She has posted pictures and links and, now, YouTube videos. So I'm going to give this a shot and see if it works!

Comfort

My thoughts go out to those wounded or killed in the recent Northern Illinois university campus shooting. This tragedy should not have occurred. My heart is with them today. Please send your heart out to them as well, to help them cope with the enormity of this awful, awful event.

My Oatmeal Bowl is Empty.

My oatmeal bowl is empty.
I shudder with hunger
And double over until my mouth makes the first sound of my favorite breakfast food.

My oatmeal bowl is empty.
I scrape my fingernails
Along the inside of the dish until the dried flakes break away from their clingy stance.

My oatmeal bowl is empty.
I try to think of life
But the warm deliciousness of cereal steals all my psychological chunks in a heist.

My oatmeal bowl is empty.
I can’t escape this longing
For gooey goodness dripping stickily down my throat and finally satisfying my needs.

My oatmeal bowl is empty.
I have no more instant packets
So I leave missing my last quenching breakfast and resolve to never replace its bliss.

Fresh Mountain Air and Our Happiness

Maybe the fresh air does enhance learning capabilities. It energizes me to walk to class next to pine trees, smell the clean smell of fresh snow, and squint my eyes against the burst of mountain breeze blowing firmly against my cheeks at twenty-five mph. The other day, as I walked to my education class, I felt so alive bouncing along the pavement, watching the poufy clouds so starkly contrasted against the burning blue sky. Maybe the crisp Flagstaff air opens my mind as much as it opens my nasal passages when I scuttle off to French at nine in the morning.

Where I'm from, the Phoenix area, we try so hard to impersonate Los Angeles. Our skies attempt the kind of smogginess LA's achieves, and our drivers compete with their's for the prize of "City with the Most Road Rage and Traffic Congestion." Frequently, rush hour rolls around with SUVs and four-wheel drives vehicles doing everything but rush, leaving hordes of pissed off drivers texting their anger to their significant others lucky enough to escape the commute. Even our teenagers strut down the street like it's a catwalk, touting their Prada and D&G and attempting to out-skinny the celebrities one might spot cruising down Sunset Boulevard. No fast food for the select neighborhoods in Phoenix. Even our art gallaries compete, trying to attract more big names like Monet and Rembrant than the other.

In Flagstaff, all that drops away. Few people hurry down the road; they traipse and gambol and totter, but rush finds no haven in their vocabulary. People are friendlier up here, too, as if the rigid social codes imposed by the suburbs have no power over them. In my hometown, a person absolutely does not engage another in conversation (what are we? human?). They must be a hobo, lunatic, child molestor, or ex-con if they speak to you. I'm particularly sociable, but there've been many times when I got a freaked out look when I chatted about the mall madness or the overwhelming heat at which anyone who has ever lived in Phoenix nods their head understandingly. But in Flagstaff, people chat you up about anything, for as long as you're willing to stand there and listen. I once found myself in the middle of an enjoyable conversation with a store owner for about an hour because we both decided to share a moment in time.

Even the air feels better. My roommate, a woman with perenially plugged nasal passages, even found her allergies to be less severe up here, and has not contracted as many common colds and viruses as she used to in Phoenix. No wind blasting thirty miles per hour straight at your face is fun, but here, at least the wind feels clean. In Phoenix, a thirty-mile-per-hour wind meant bugs in your teeth and unidentifiable specks of city life forced into your nostrils.

I love to wander outside, and just breathe. Maybe that's what is wrong with the world. Not enough people take time out of their day to simply breathe and let go. Maybe more people need to let go of their preconceptions, their labels, their prejudices, their resentements, their awkwardnesses, and their troubles. Maybe we all would be happier if instead of the gunk of city life jostling around in our brains, we had the cleanliness of mountain air and friendly living.

"Good morning, here's the news, and all of it is good. Good evening, here's the news, and all of it is good, and the weather's good." --Carbon/Silicon

Introductory Meditations

Well, here it is, my first blog, my first communication into the larger world of cyberspace aside from dabblings in online poetry publishing and the all-important social connector, such as Facebook.

Isn't it amazing how just one little thing can completely shake up your world, like a new acquaintance, music, book, or even an idea? Everything fits into place and then BAM. That new something or other decides to scramble all your carefully laid plans. But isn't that what makes life interesting, the discovery that rocks your world, that suddenly changes all your predetermined ideals and rules? I think so.

I personally have the belief that I ought to try almost everything once. This especially applies to food, since I am too afraid to try bungee jumping or sky diving once. I should, but my thinking is that once is enough to kill you, whereas most foods you run across are safe to eat, and the worst thing you will get from them is food poisoning or a particularly bad stomach ache. How do you know you don't like something until you try it? I cannot count the number of times I have been so thankful I tried something I normally wouldn't have because it ended up become a favorite. The perfect example is my love of Indian cuisine. In my opinion, it encompasses some of the most wonderful flavors and recipes in the world, but I wouldn't have arrived at that conclusion if I hadn't tried it out first. My favorite band presents us with another example. I was going through my CDs one day, deciding which ones to give away, and I came across The Clash Singles CD. I could have, in that split second, decided just to let it go without listening to it again. Instead, I popped it in the player, and an obsession was born.

So, today, go out and try something new. Say yes to something you normally wouldn't. I'm not suggesting you go throw yourself off a cliff because it sounds cool, but take a class, try escargot, or look at something from a different perspective. You might just be pleasantly surprised.