http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%A9j%C3%A0_vu
I'm not certain that the link will work, but I wikied deja-vu and it's pretty interesting to read about. My whole life has had moments like this, where I dream something very detailed, or even just a brief moment, and then it happens. Sometimes days, weeks, or even years later. I forget if I had posted about a dream I had when I was a very young kid and how it influenced my becoming a Christian, but this post is more specifically about...
THE DENTIST.
I've only ever had one dentist, because I have terrible fears concerning my teeth. If my dentist ever retires, I will either let my teeth rot out of my head or just kill myself. Because I would rather have to eat mashed potatoes for the rest of my life then trust some other psychopath to stick sharp metal tools into my face and tell awful jokes like, "the good news is, this will hurt you more than it'll hurt me."
The week before last, I had this very vivid dream about my teeth. I've had many dreams where my jaw gets stuck in an awful wide open dead person rigamortis position, or it's wired shut and I can't open it, or all of my teeth fall out. This dream that I had recently however, was far worse. I was sitting with my boyfriend, and I was grinding my teeth, when all of them crumbled like rocks and pebbles in my mouth, and all I had left was awful silver broken stubs. I woke up sweating, thinking about it all day, worried that I would never eat anything solid ever again. My dinner was mashed potatoes that night just to keep myself calm.
During my wonderful vacation with said boyfriend after we fast forward to last week, we were driving around at ten o'clock at night, doing a junkfood run in the middle of nowhere. He bought me a delicious ice cream cookie sandwich, to which I happily bit into.
Suddenly, the worst possible thing that could possibly happen, well it happened.
MY TOOTH CRUMPLED IN MY MOUTH!!
Tears running down my face.
Body shaking.
Pieces of my tooth floating around in bits of chocolate chip cookie and ice cream.
Boyfriend panicking because I can't tell him what's wrong, as I have yet to open my mouth to see the horrorific after effects of my mouth falling apart.
There was nothing I could do but cry... and then maybe call my mom because that was the first thing Will suggested we do. What a good boyfriend. He knows me too well.
Two days later I'm sitting in the chair at the dentist's office, hoping it's not as bad as I think. When I looked in the mirror, half of my incisor was just gone. It was brown and rotted on the inside, like when you crack open an egg and think everything on the inside is great but soon as it's in the bowl it's green and stinky and your pancake mix is ruined. My mouth looked like those posters at the office next to my chair, where someone with mouth cancer has teeth brown and half gone, and the tagline says: DON'T SMOKE - take care of your teeth or you'll look like this guy and you'll have to get dentures, trust us it's no fun.
Dr. Bob asks if he can look at the tooth, and he gasps. I said,
"I know, it was horrifying" he said,
"sweetie, that is worse than horrifying... be right back" and he leaves the room. I'm left alone, panicking and waiting for my impending doom asking myself,
WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE WORSE THAN HORRIFYING?!
He may as well have said,
"your jaw is going to fall off... sit tight kiddo"
Turns out, it was the same tooth that I had a root canal on three years ago and I never got the crown. I also no longer have dental insurance. 1200 dollars later, my savings account is crying, and I really wish I had Mass Health. I was saving for something, saving to pay off some of my smaller loans, saving to eventually get a vespa or a motorbike or something vehicle-like that wouldn't eat at my wallet with all these gas prices rising.
Maybe I'd consider being a stripper if I wasn't such a terrible dancer, and I didn't already have a college degree...
Maybe I can hone in on these psychic skills of mine, read one of those "how to find your chakra" books and scam people like that chick on Main st in Hyannis who tried to sell me a happiness crystal for 200 bucks. (which she probably made herself out of superglue and some Claire's accessories)
Or... a psychic stripper... hmm that's new and innovative.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
wack fall the daddy-o, there's whiskey in the jar
I have often caught myself loving St. Patrick's Day almost as much as I love Christmas. In fact, now that the nostalgic sadness of Christmas 2011 has ceased from my veins, I could say that it may even be my favorite holiday. (Don't let me hear myself saying that come November!) But yes, ever since I was a small child this holiday has had a very special meaning to myself and my family as we had many traditions and loving memories that go alongside of it.
Some people don't quite understand the love for a Hallmark holiday when it's clearly overly-commercialized and doesn't seem to have any sort of relevant importance to the rest of the world. Heck, I'll admit that St. Patty's is just an excuse for a lot of Bostonians to go out and get shitfaced together and pretend that they're Irish when they may or may not have the last name to prove it such as a generic "Murphy" or "O'Brien".
(For those of you who did not know this, India Pearl is my first and middle name, so yes it is my real name but my last name is a proud and unusual "Daughney" which is quite similar to more popular Irish last names such as "Donaghue" and the like. Please don't be annoyed if you're a closer friend and you had no idea, the only people who really know it are my family and whoever writes me a check.)
Anyway, when I was young I was told on a very regular basis that I was Irish, and my freckles were homegrown to prove it to the rest of the world. I was brought home Woolie sweaters from Ireland when my Nana went on her travels, we had Irish music playing at almost every holiday aside from the 4th of July, and I was put into Irish Step Dancing class so that I would have to put on a little jig at family parties. Everyone would say they were so proud of me for keeping up the tradition, and I was having fun being in the Worcester St. Patrick's Day Parade every year.
God rest her soul, my step dancing teacher Mary McInerny passed away a couple of years ago from cancer. Her kids were very young, it was really sad.
I remember every argument or hardship, tale of luck and happiness, and exclamation of emotion involved the Catholic Jesus Christ, the luck of the Irish, or both.
"If that landlord thinks I'm payin the rent before he fixes the fuse in the basement, he can kiss my white Irish ass!"
"You pray to St. Anthony and your Irish luck will bring that lost wallet back to you."
"Don't forget, you're married to an Irish woman and you don't want to piss her off, she's smarter than you and you know it, you dumb drunk."
"Are you having another beer?" -- "Yes dear, it's ok I can still drive I'm Irish."
And so on and so forth. Once, when I was well under the drinking age, I was told that if I was a real Irish woman when I grew up, I would love Irish whiskey. Well Mom, you were right. Too bad Jameson is so effing expensive.
Every year my Nana and her husband and so many of our family members would help out with the St. Patrick's Day Parade Committee. (I want to say it was planned by the Teamsters, or the Teamsters were/are involved, but I don't want to misprint information this is just from my childhood perceptions and that my uncle worked for them.) I would stand outside and some years it was nice weather, while other years it was freezing. There's a picture of my mom and a couple of us kids sitting behind the judge's table watching the show, Our apartment was right off of Park Avenue in Worcester, which was so lucky because we could walk one block to watch the parade. My cousin Ronnie and I would wave to the people on the floats, and beg them to throw us candies. I would beat up whatever little flag-clad 4 year old that tried to take those soft-filled strawberry-shaped penny candies from the sidewalk before I got there. I still say they're my favorite. And yes, I'm aware they can rip your fillings out and they cost mere pennies.
The fall of 2010 when I went to Dublin and took a tour through the countryside, I was so happy I can't even express it into words without taking up ten more paragraphs. I "shook the hand" of a crusade soldier and had massive luck for at least a week, (heck, maybe I'm still getting that luck) I toured the Jameson factory, I met some Americans here and there when I was missing home and my family that couldn't be in Dublin with me, I saw the Book of Kells and went to St. Patrick's Church and said a little prayer at both places, posed with the infamous Molly Malone, drank a Guinness at the oldest pub in Dublin, gushed over the green pastures in the countryside, and so on and so on.
St. Patrick's Day might just be an excuse to drink for some people, but to me, or at least to the kid version of me, it means a whole world of things. Who our family was, where our blood came from, the traditions of a country passed on through generations and being carried on in another country, it's all sort of a beautiful idea when you forget about the beer chugging contest. I love my family, and I love our background, and I love Ireland and the Boston version of being Irish. Just the sound of Irish music makes my heart and soul cry and sing at the same time. That's love.
Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone, I hope it's really lucky and fun for all of you. Here's an Irish blessing that you all might know but I truly do mean it:
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
I want to add a small note here that my Nana's soon to be ex husband whom I don't mention very often and don't like to name on my blog, truly influenced a lot of my love for our background and being a Massachusetts Irish Catholic. Even though we don't speak anymore, this time of year is a little bit hard because he used to be such a huge part of all of us getting together. We don't wish to have him in our lives anymore, but I'll be drinking a whiskey to him this year in hopes that he's doing well.
Some people don't quite understand the love for a Hallmark holiday when it's clearly overly-commercialized and doesn't seem to have any sort of relevant importance to the rest of the world. Heck, I'll admit that St. Patty's is just an excuse for a lot of Bostonians to go out and get shitfaced together and pretend that they're Irish when they may or may not have the last name to prove it such as a generic "Murphy" or "O'Brien".
(For those of you who did not know this, India Pearl is my first and middle name, so yes it is my real name but my last name is a proud and unusual "Daughney" which is quite similar to more popular Irish last names such as "Donaghue" and the like. Please don't be annoyed if you're a closer friend and you had no idea, the only people who really know it are my family and whoever writes me a check.)
Anyway, when I was young I was told on a very regular basis that I was Irish, and my freckles were homegrown to prove it to the rest of the world. I was brought home Woolie sweaters from Ireland when my Nana went on her travels, we had Irish music playing at almost every holiday aside from the 4th of July, and I was put into Irish Step Dancing class so that I would have to put on a little jig at family parties. Everyone would say they were so proud of me for keeping up the tradition, and I was having fun being in the Worcester St. Patrick's Day Parade every year.
God rest her soul, my step dancing teacher Mary McInerny passed away a couple of years ago from cancer. Her kids were very young, it was really sad.
I remember every argument or hardship, tale of luck and happiness, and exclamation of emotion involved the Catholic Jesus Christ, the luck of the Irish, or both.
"If that landlord thinks I'm payin the rent before he fixes the fuse in the basement, he can kiss my white Irish ass!"
"You pray to St. Anthony and your Irish luck will bring that lost wallet back to you."
"Don't forget, you're married to an Irish woman and you don't want to piss her off, she's smarter than you and you know it, you dumb drunk."
"Are you having another beer?" -- "Yes dear, it's ok I can still drive I'm Irish."
And so on and so forth. Once, when I was well under the drinking age, I was told that if I was a real Irish woman when I grew up, I would love Irish whiskey. Well Mom, you were right. Too bad Jameson is so effing expensive.
Every year my Nana and her husband and so many of our family members would help out with the St. Patrick's Day Parade Committee. (I want to say it was planned by the Teamsters, or the Teamsters were/are involved, but I don't want to misprint information this is just from my childhood perceptions and that my uncle worked for them.) I would stand outside and some years it was nice weather, while other years it was freezing. There's a picture of my mom and a couple of us kids sitting behind the judge's table watching the show, Our apartment was right off of Park Avenue in Worcester, which was so lucky because we could walk one block to watch the parade. My cousin Ronnie and I would wave to the people on the floats, and beg them to throw us candies. I would beat up whatever little flag-clad 4 year old that tried to take those soft-filled strawberry-shaped penny candies from the sidewalk before I got there. I still say they're my favorite. And yes, I'm aware they can rip your fillings out and they cost mere pennies.
The fall of 2010 when I went to Dublin and took a tour through the countryside, I was so happy I can't even express it into words without taking up ten more paragraphs. I "shook the hand" of a crusade soldier and had massive luck for at least a week, (heck, maybe I'm still getting that luck) I toured the Jameson factory, I met some Americans here and there when I was missing home and my family that couldn't be in Dublin with me, I saw the Book of Kells and went to St. Patrick's Church and said a little prayer at both places, posed with the infamous Molly Malone, drank a Guinness at the oldest pub in Dublin, gushed over the green pastures in the countryside, and so on and so on.
St. Patrick's Day might just be an excuse to drink for some people, but to me, or at least to the kid version of me, it means a whole world of things. Who our family was, where our blood came from, the traditions of a country passed on through generations and being carried on in another country, it's all sort of a beautiful idea when you forget about the beer chugging contest. I love my family, and I love our background, and I love Ireland and the Boston version of being Irish. Just the sound of Irish music makes my heart and soul cry and sing at the same time. That's love.
Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone, I hope it's really lucky and fun for all of you. Here's an Irish blessing that you all might know but I truly do mean it:
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
I want to add a small note here that my Nana's soon to be ex husband whom I don't mention very often and don't like to name on my blog, truly influenced a lot of my love for our background and being a Massachusetts Irish Catholic. Even though we don't speak anymore, this time of year is a little bit hard because he used to be such a huge part of all of us getting together. We don't wish to have him in our lives anymore, but I'll be drinking a whiskey to him this year in hopes that he's doing well.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
It's spring, we sprung ahead, and my heart is springing!
I'm not totally sure what my odd daylight savings time subject line means. This morning I woke up in a terrible mood because I was overheated, dehydrated, and it was after "noon" (really felt like eleven 'cause they switched the clocks last night). I said goodbye to my boyfriend who went to go play some basketball with his buddies, and I proceeded to be stuck on the phone for two hours with TMobile.
They are awful, their customer service stinks, they're apathetic, they charge you for ridiculous things, and their warranty exchange is absurd. This post isn't supposed to be about my phone service, but wouldn't you think that paying a processing fee when your phone has a defect just to get another phone is a form of robbery? Sure, if I broke my phone then I will gladly pay for the replacement, but since that is not the case I shouldn't have to pay to get another one. And here's the clincher: they don't take formal complaints over the phone, you have to mail them a letter to file a formal complaint. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
"I'm speaking to a customer service rep right now on the phone, and you can't take my complaint?"
"No mam, they only process them through mail. Please be as specific as possible when you write the letter."
"Oh believe me... I will be."
That being said, I didn't get out of the house until the clock said it was 4:45 and I was very cranky. I wanted to go to the gym, and then I missed the bus. So instead of trekking all the way to Porter Square, and after realizing that I had almost missed out on this beautiful day altogether, I went for a run in the Tufts track down the street from my apartment.
I was amazed at how much running in 50+ degree weather cleared my brain. I had no headphones, no tv in front of me like at the elyptical machine, and all I tried to concentrate on was the green turf and trees around the track, and my breathing. My lower back began to pang with jolts of tightening up so I had to stop a little sooner than I wanted, but it was still worth the trip. Every time that my mind wandered to, "I have to do this and this and this..." I would stop myself and just look at the trees and think, "green... air... breathe... outside... sun..." and simple little thoughts like that to make myself happy. It worked.
After a trip to Family Dollar and getting off the bus to return home, I just felt this rush of happiness at the thought that Spring was truly here. Many other thoughts were rushing into my head as well, but mostly feelings associated with memories that simply happen every year when the weather is warm. (Halfway through this I realized I was typing about summer, but Spring is just an exciting enticement for what is to come)
Everyone is in a good mood because they're finally getting out of the house
You go out and stay up late without caring about the long walk home
The smell in the air makes you want to take that walk home
The middle of the night is like a whole 'nother day, just a different kind of day and sleep need not interrupt your enjoyment
Crickets keep your mind quiet while all the windows are open wide and you feel a comforting soft breeze
You feel like love is possible even if it's not real love, that's what summer is for
Walking around in your underpants in your apartment is completely acceptable, as is walking around outside in a bikini or something else that would otherwise be considered slut-gear
Campfires make you miss being a teenager
The rain, when the sky cracks open after five awfully hot days and you push your nose up against the screen door and breathe deep taking in the smell
Grass is a perfectly acceptable mattress
Guitars and instruments are everywhere in the city, as though the sun brought a soundtrack with him upon his return
Booze and cigarettes are casual company for a lazy afternoon
Any night of the week is acceptable to be out and about
You're just plain happy and feeling free like anything is possible.
They are awful, their customer service stinks, they're apathetic, they charge you for ridiculous things, and their warranty exchange is absurd. This post isn't supposed to be about my phone service, but wouldn't you think that paying a processing fee when your phone has a defect just to get another phone is a form of robbery? Sure, if I broke my phone then I will gladly pay for the replacement, but since that is not the case I shouldn't have to pay to get another one. And here's the clincher: they don't take formal complaints over the phone, you have to mail them a letter to file a formal complaint. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
"I'm speaking to a customer service rep right now on the phone, and you can't take my complaint?"
"No mam, they only process them through mail. Please be as specific as possible when you write the letter."
"Oh believe me... I will be."
That being said, I didn't get out of the house until the clock said it was 4:45 and I was very cranky. I wanted to go to the gym, and then I missed the bus. So instead of trekking all the way to Porter Square, and after realizing that I had almost missed out on this beautiful day altogether, I went for a run in the Tufts track down the street from my apartment.
I was amazed at how much running in 50+ degree weather cleared my brain. I had no headphones, no tv in front of me like at the elyptical machine, and all I tried to concentrate on was the green turf and trees around the track, and my breathing. My lower back began to pang with jolts of tightening up so I had to stop a little sooner than I wanted, but it was still worth the trip. Every time that my mind wandered to, "I have to do this and this and this..." I would stop myself and just look at the trees and think, "green... air... breathe... outside... sun..." and simple little thoughts like that to make myself happy. It worked.
After a trip to Family Dollar and getting off the bus to return home, I just felt this rush of happiness at the thought that Spring was truly here. Many other thoughts were rushing into my head as well, but mostly feelings associated with memories that simply happen every year when the weather is warm. (Halfway through this I realized I was typing about summer, but Spring is just an exciting enticement for what is to come)
Everyone is in a good mood because they're finally getting out of the house
You go out and stay up late without caring about the long walk home
The smell in the air makes you want to take that walk home
The middle of the night is like a whole 'nother day, just a different kind of day and sleep need not interrupt your enjoyment
Crickets keep your mind quiet while all the windows are open wide and you feel a comforting soft breeze
You feel like love is possible even if it's not real love, that's what summer is for
Walking around in your underpants in your apartment is completely acceptable, as is walking around outside in a bikini or something else that would otherwise be considered slut-gear
Campfires make you miss being a teenager
The rain, when the sky cracks open after five awfully hot days and you push your nose up against the screen door and breathe deep taking in the smell
Grass is a perfectly acceptable mattress
Guitars and instruments are everywhere in the city, as though the sun brought a soundtrack with him upon his return
Booze and cigarettes are casual company for a lazy afternoon
Any night of the week is acceptable to be out and about
You're just plain happy and feeling free like anything is possible.
Monday, February 27, 2012
a little gold statue, a big dream fulfilled
I remember the first time I sat down and watched the Oscars all by myself, all the way through. It was the year that Reese Witherspoon won for best actress, and I was so happy because I must have watched Walk the Line about a hundred times in a row. Then I was very sad because Joaquin Phoenix didn't win for best actor. Ok, so I'll admit that Capote was a great film and the award didn't go to waste, but those two country star players were just amazing together, and I thought how appropriate it would have been for them to both take home the award. Oh well, I'm sure that when Joaquin gets back on the radar and off of his hermit kick he'll get another chance to prove himself.
That was in 2005. Now, 7 years later, I still watch the Oscars every year all the way through to the grueling end, all 24 awards that are presented and sorted, and suffer through some of the musical numbers that have been less than Grammy-worthy. But I really love everything about the show.
This is something I look forward to every year, along with the Grammys, the Golden Globes, and the SAG awards... I could go on about why I really award season, but the Oscars are the all-American apple pie of award shows. It's what film actors strive for, the movie role they get that year could be the role that scores them lifetime recognition, and people won't argue about your abilities as an actor onscreen when you've won such a prestigious award. Actors become who they are because of that life-changing award. Even actors that might get made fun of. (Everyone has a Christopher Walken impression, but that doesn't negate the fact that even he won an Oscar and has massive amounts of respect from Hollywood at the end of the day).
Meryl Streep is Meryl Streep because she has worked her entire life to be a better actress day in and day out. Her 17th nomination this year gave her the third Oscar of her career, and she really truly did deserve it. After so many times of being nominated, she's got to win, right? And you should have seen the shock on her face, and her excitement because of how used she had gotten to losing! She's so great that one of her last nominations was for an only ok movie (The Devil Wears Prada) and only Meryl could shine through something like THAT. (Not that it was a bad movie, just saying we didn't foresee Oscar nods from it).
I heard her speech and I cried. And I heard Octavia Spencer's speech, and I cried. When I watched the SAG awards I saw Viola Davis' speech and I bawled my eyes out. Seeing someone feel as though their life's work has truly made it all worth it in the end, makes my soul tingle. I knew I wanted to be an actress when I was five, but when you see actor after actor shake and cry and laugh and yell and whoop and holler, it's no question as to why I want to do what they do. You live the black sheep lifestyle of an artist, you become successful, and you are recognized as being successful. It's an amazing outcome.
Now I'm not saying I want to become an actress just so I can win an Oscar, although of course that would be nice. I am saying that I see their passion and their love for what they do pour out of them in that moment of winning. That's what I want. I want their happiness and love for what they do. 3 out of 4 Americans hate their jobs, and I never want to be one of those people. Award season continues to inspire me, for the love of acting and being an artist. There's nothing like it. Follow your dreams people, you never know what could happen in the end. Maybe you'll simply be inexplicably happy for the rest of your life, who knows.
That was in 2005. Now, 7 years later, I still watch the Oscars every year all the way through to the grueling end, all 24 awards that are presented and sorted, and suffer through some of the musical numbers that have been less than Grammy-worthy. But I really love everything about the show.
This is something I look forward to every year, along with the Grammys, the Golden Globes, and the SAG awards... I could go on about why I really award season, but the Oscars are the all-American apple pie of award shows. It's what film actors strive for, the movie role they get that year could be the role that scores them lifetime recognition, and people won't argue about your abilities as an actor onscreen when you've won such a prestigious award. Actors become who they are because of that life-changing award. Even actors that might get made fun of. (Everyone has a Christopher Walken impression, but that doesn't negate the fact that even he won an Oscar and has massive amounts of respect from Hollywood at the end of the day).
Meryl Streep is Meryl Streep because she has worked her entire life to be a better actress day in and day out. Her 17th nomination this year gave her the third Oscar of her career, and she really truly did deserve it. After so many times of being nominated, she's got to win, right? And you should have seen the shock on her face, and her excitement because of how used she had gotten to losing! She's so great that one of her last nominations was for an only ok movie (The Devil Wears Prada) and only Meryl could shine through something like THAT. (Not that it was a bad movie, just saying we didn't foresee Oscar nods from it).
I heard her speech and I cried. And I heard Octavia Spencer's speech, and I cried. When I watched the SAG awards I saw Viola Davis' speech and I bawled my eyes out. Seeing someone feel as though their life's work has truly made it all worth it in the end, makes my soul tingle. I knew I wanted to be an actress when I was five, but when you see actor after actor shake and cry and laugh and yell and whoop and holler, it's no question as to why I want to do what they do. You live the black sheep lifestyle of an artist, you become successful, and you are recognized as being successful. It's an amazing outcome.
Now I'm not saying I want to become an actress just so I can win an Oscar, although of course that would be nice. I am saying that I see their passion and their love for what they do pour out of them in that moment of winning. That's what I want. I want their happiness and love for what they do. 3 out of 4 Americans hate their jobs, and I never want to be one of those people. Award season continues to inspire me, for the love of acting and being an artist. There's nothing like it. Follow your dreams people, you never know what could happen in the end. Maybe you'll simply be inexplicably happy for the rest of your life, who knows.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Is Lent considered just as cliche as a New Year's resolution?
I remember when I was a kid growing up and I'd hear about Lent. I didn't understand what it meant, or why it was even important. I just knew that it was "Catholic" and we didn't do it at our house. I never went to CCD, and somehow was jealous of the group of kids I knew who somehow had a bond that I didn't because they were forced to take a bible class once a week to prove they were worthy to be a member of the church.
"I got confirmed this weekend," some kids would say, "and now my mom says I don't have to go to church anymore." Whatever it meant to be Catholic, as I grew in my faith I just knew that it was easily blown off and somewhat of a fashion statement to say you were one just so you had a "thing" with other Catholics. It's a culture that Irish Massachusetts people tend to have, and oftentimes when I tell people I go to church and that I believe in God, they will say something to the extent of, "Well I'm Catholic, BUT..." as if to say they're covered either way. They'll go to church for funerals, weddings, and maybe a Christmas or an Easter when their Grandmother makes them, but they'll save their lifestyles for when they have kids and make them go to CCD and suffer just as they did.
But for what is the "suffering" that they put themselves through? Is it just so they can continue a family tradition? Is it because a part of them feels as though they have to, simply because everyone they know does it as well? Or is God somehow in there somewhere in the mix, waiting to be discovered and weighing in on hearts to keep a luke-warm connection with Him?
So back to my middle school days of listening to girls at the lunch table, comparing their Lenten sacrifices.
"Well my parents order fish n chips every Friday so that we don't eat meat, but last week my brother ate a bologna sandwich for lunch. Mom made him go to confession on Sunday, but Father Reily said it was ok."
"I gave up chocolate, and then two days later I totally forgot when my Gramma brought over cookies! I felt bad but, whatever they were good cookies."
"Oh I gave up chocolate too! My sister gave up ice cream. Too bad her birthday is during lent, but she can still have cake."
If you see the pattern here, I never once heard God in any of these conversations. I only knew, (after asking my pastor at the Federated Church) that because Jesus was tempted for 40 days in the desert, Catholics chose 40 days before Easter to give up something that tempts them. And because Jesus fasted during that time, they had to give up meat on Fridays. (Granted, there are Catholics who fast every Friday during Lent, or they fast periodically throughout, but those are hard people to come by these days). ONLY FRIDAYS?! And these girls were complaining about chocolate, when Jesus starved and prayed for 40 days with Satan trying to get knocked out in the second round?? Oh, I'm sorry I guess giving up sweets qualifies for your ticket into Heaven. Didn't realize it was as spirit-breaking as being the Son of God and dying for sins or anything like that.
Ok, that was a harsh last couple of sentences, but the whole thing just seemed silly to me. Until I decided to challenge myself two years ago and give up something not because I wanted to be part of the fad, but because I was trying to understand the real true point of Lent. I didn't want to say I was doing something and then give up after three days like a gym membership after New Years when everyone does it and then everyone forgives each other for not following through. That year I was determined to do something that would change my spirit for the better. Jesus' spirit and faith and livelihood was tested during His time in the desert, so I chose something that I had an issue with that was making me terribly unhappy, and I gave it up. I gave up sex for lent.
Two years ago I was in a dark place. I was in a dark place for most of college, as some of my friends knew. I was depressed and I felt neglected and alone. The boy that I thought I would somehow end up with in a fairytale sort of ending, didn't turn out the way that I had planned and prayed for. So I pursued attention and love from anywhere I could or couldn't get it. I was used and abused, and while I was enjoying the attention, I felt awful most of the time. Giving up sex made me realize that I had the ability to figure out well ahead of the game just what a man was looking for when he first met me. Sex or girlfriend? There's only two options, really. Even if they don't fall in lvoe with you in two seconds, you just seem to know right away if he only wants to get laid or if he's more than just that. The power that I gained over my self control and my discernment was absolutely a turning event in my life. That was the Lent that snowballed into changing many habits that I had; habits of a girl that I didn't recognize or like most of the time.
Last year was a sad Lent for me. I was trying to give up sweets and overeating, because those were habits that induced my bulimic tendencies. If I ate a half carton of ice cream, I could be sure it was coming back up. My bulimia was so bad, that I couldn't go to work at the cafeteria without eating three platefuls of food a couple of times throughout the night. I remember taking home food to repeat the process when I got home. I told everyone that I was giving up sweets, when really I was giving up the abuse I was doing on my body. Honest to God, only through prayer did I get through beating an eating disorder, because He knows I wasn't telling anyone about it. I was in therapy for four months and never said a word about it.
Two years ago, Lent was something I decided to take seriously and truly explore what spiritual change could do when you sacrifice something the flesh is tempted by, even though I'm not baptized as a Catholic! So this year I still have about a day to decide what I'm giving up. I try to do it the right way and fast on Ash Wednesday, so maybe I'll be able to make a real decision by the time the sun sets. Although I have nothing that's really killing me emotionally or physically this time around, I'll have to take something away or add a habit that I've been meaning to add that could really help me in the long run as oppose to only up until Easter. Because if it weren't for Lent, I would probably be without any idea of what a healthy relationship is and I wouldn't remember what it was like to eat a meal just to enjoy it. So I have a lot to be thankful for due to something that some people think is just as BS as a New Years resolution.
"I got confirmed this weekend," some kids would say, "and now my mom says I don't have to go to church anymore." Whatever it meant to be Catholic, as I grew in my faith I just knew that it was easily blown off and somewhat of a fashion statement to say you were one just so you had a "thing" with other Catholics. It's a culture that Irish Massachusetts people tend to have, and oftentimes when I tell people I go to church and that I believe in God, they will say something to the extent of, "Well I'm Catholic, BUT..." as if to say they're covered either way. They'll go to church for funerals, weddings, and maybe a Christmas or an Easter when their Grandmother makes them, but they'll save their lifestyles for when they have kids and make them go to CCD and suffer just as they did.
But for what is the "suffering" that they put themselves through? Is it just so they can continue a family tradition? Is it because a part of them feels as though they have to, simply because everyone they know does it as well? Or is God somehow in there somewhere in the mix, waiting to be discovered and weighing in on hearts to keep a luke-warm connection with Him?
So back to my middle school days of listening to girls at the lunch table, comparing their Lenten sacrifices.
"Well my parents order fish n chips every Friday so that we don't eat meat, but last week my brother ate a bologna sandwich for lunch. Mom made him go to confession on Sunday, but Father Reily said it was ok."
"I gave up chocolate, and then two days later I totally forgot when my Gramma brought over cookies! I felt bad but, whatever they were good cookies."
"Oh I gave up chocolate too! My sister gave up ice cream. Too bad her birthday is during lent, but she can still have cake."
If you see the pattern here, I never once heard God in any of these conversations. I only knew, (after asking my pastor at the Federated Church) that because Jesus was tempted for 40 days in the desert, Catholics chose 40 days before Easter to give up something that tempts them. And because Jesus fasted during that time, they had to give up meat on Fridays. (Granted, there are Catholics who fast every Friday during Lent, or they fast periodically throughout, but those are hard people to come by these days). ONLY FRIDAYS?! And these girls were complaining about chocolate, when Jesus starved and prayed for 40 days with Satan trying to get knocked out in the second round?? Oh, I'm sorry I guess giving up sweets qualifies for your ticket into Heaven. Didn't realize it was as spirit-breaking as being the Son of God and dying for sins or anything like that.
Ok, that was a harsh last couple of sentences, but the whole thing just seemed silly to me. Until I decided to challenge myself two years ago and give up something not because I wanted to be part of the fad, but because I was trying to understand the real true point of Lent. I didn't want to say I was doing something and then give up after three days like a gym membership after New Years when everyone does it and then everyone forgives each other for not following through. That year I was determined to do something that would change my spirit for the better. Jesus' spirit and faith and livelihood was tested during His time in the desert, so I chose something that I had an issue with that was making me terribly unhappy, and I gave it up. I gave up sex for lent.
Two years ago I was in a dark place. I was in a dark place for most of college, as some of my friends knew. I was depressed and I felt neglected and alone. The boy that I thought I would somehow end up with in a fairytale sort of ending, didn't turn out the way that I had planned and prayed for. So I pursued attention and love from anywhere I could or couldn't get it. I was used and abused, and while I was enjoying the attention, I felt awful most of the time. Giving up sex made me realize that I had the ability to figure out well ahead of the game just what a man was looking for when he first met me. Sex or girlfriend? There's only two options, really. Even if they don't fall in lvoe with you in two seconds, you just seem to know right away if he only wants to get laid or if he's more than just that. The power that I gained over my self control and my discernment was absolutely a turning event in my life. That was the Lent that snowballed into changing many habits that I had; habits of a girl that I didn't recognize or like most of the time.
Last year was a sad Lent for me. I was trying to give up sweets and overeating, because those were habits that induced my bulimic tendencies. If I ate a half carton of ice cream, I could be sure it was coming back up. My bulimia was so bad, that I couldn't go to work at the cafeteria without eating three platefuls of food a couple of times throughout the night. I remember taking home food to repeat the process when I got home. I told everyone that I was giving up sweets, when really I was giving up the abuse I was doing on my body. Honest to God, only through prayer did I get through beating an eating disorder, because He knows I wasn't telling anyone about it. I was in therapy for four months and never said a word about it.
Two years ago, Lent was something I decided to take seriously and truly explore what spiritual change could do when you sacrifice something the flesh is tempted by, even though I'm not baptized as a Catholic! So this year I still have about a day to decide what I'm giving up. I try to do it the right way and fast on Ash Wednesday, so maybe I'll be able to make a real decision by the time the sun sets. Although I have nothing that's really killing me emotionally or physically this time around, I'll have to take something away or add a habit that I've been meaning to add that could really help me in the long run as oppose to only up until Easter. Because if it weren't for Lent, I would probably be without any idea of what a healthy relationship is and I wouldn't remember what it was like to eat a meal just to enjoy it. So I have a lot to be thankful for due to something that some people think is just as BS as a New Years resolution.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
days that make you feel like an incompetent know-nothing hack.
The following are things that I have gotten rejected from in the past week:
1. Two parts that I got callbacks for, and yes I'm fully aware that actors whine about that crap all the time but just let me be annoyed for 24 hours before my next audition tomorrow night and save your, "you'll do great next time" bullshit. One of them was such a challenging and fun role and the other was with a really connected company, also a fun part, and neither of them are mine.
2. A job that had perfect hours (noon to 6pm!) and was 1 mile from my apartment. My problem with this was that she started interviewing me on the phone without telling me that she was interviewing me... to clarify, basically she had said she wanted to meet with me and instead of meeting me she just started asking me very specific questions about how I would do my job if she hired me, obviously none of which I was mentally prepared to answer and I think that's completely unfair. Don't call someone to schedule an interview and then just decide to do it now and make judgments based on answers that they had no time to think about or prepare properly for!
3. Being able to sing in the worship band at my church. I'm SORRY WHAT?!?! First off, this one clearly upset me more than anything because shouldn't I be able to count on my church to let me participate in church run groups? I wasn't even allowed to audition, this was based solely (according to the guy who said no) on my attendance during the holiday season to church and how inconsistent it was. Well I'd like to know if he held the same standard to students who went thousands of miles away to see their families and weren't around for a month?? Just because my mother lives in Worcester and I went to a Navigators reunion and my home church on those Sundays means that I was penalized and tabs were being kept on me?!?! Wow and people wonder why I have trust issues.
Basically everything that can go wrong, has been going wrong this weekend. I blame the full moon, idiotic people, inconsiderate people, bad luck with other stupid and I don't even know what else.
As an actor, I deal with rejection all the time. But when it comes all at once from different parts of your life, it's a pain in the rear. I'm miserable today, and that's all I can really say about it. I need a punching bag. I need a cocktail. I need a hug from my boyfriend. I need a girlfriend who whines about the same things I do and makes me feel like we're both in a rut together. I need to pray and feel like it'll change something.
These are the sort of things that when you get rejection from all points, you feel like you're not talented in any aspect of your pursuits.
Can't get a job?
I have no marketable skills for a job.
Can't get an acting gig?
I'm a shitty actress.
Basically, you start to give yourself horrible explanations for these things and it makes you hate the rest of the world for making you feel this way. I don't want to hear that it's all in my head I'm mad and I want to feel justified in being angry right now, OK/!??!?!!
ugh.
1. Two parts that I got callbacks for, and yes I'm fully aware that actors whine about that crap all the time but just let me be annoyed for 24 hours before my next audition tomorrow night and save your, "you'll do great next time" bullshit. One of them was such a challenging and fun role and the other was with a really connected company, also a fun part, and neither of them are mine.
2. A job that had perfect hours (noon to 6pm!) and was 1 mile from my apartment. My problem with this was that she started interviewing me on the phone without telling me that she was interviewing me... to clarify, basically she had said she wanted to meet with me and instead of meeting me she just started asking me very specific questions about how I would do my job if she hired me, obviously none of which I was mentally prepared to answer and I think that's completely unfair. Don't call someone to schedule an interview and then just decide to do it now and make judgments based on answers that they had no time to think about or prepare properly for!
3. Being able to sing in the worship band at my church. I'm SORRY WHAT?!?! First off, this one clearly upset me more than anything because shouldn't I be able to count on my church to let me participate in church run groups? I wasn't even allowed to audition, this was based solely (according to the guy who said no) on my attendance during the holiday season to church and how inconsistent it was. Well I'd like to know if he held the same standard to students who went thousands of miles away to see their families and weren't around for a month?? Just because my mother lives in Worcester and I went to a Navigators reunion and my home church on those Sundays means that I was penalized and tabs were being kept on me?!?! Wow and people wonder why I have trust issues.
Basically everything that can go wrong, has been going wrong this weekend. I blame the full moon, idiotic people, inconsiderate people, bad luck with other stupid and I don't even know what else.
As an actor, I deal with rejection all the time. But when it comes all at once from different parts of your life, it's a pain in the rear. I'm miserable today, and that's all I can really say about it. I need a punching bag. I need a cocktail. I need a hug from my boyfriend. I need a girlfriend who whines about the same things I do and makes me feel like we're both in a rut together. I need to pray and feel like it'll change something.
These are the sort of things that when you get rejection from all points, you feel like you're not talented in any aspect of your pursuits.
Can't get a job?
I have no marketable skills for a job.
Can't get an acting gig?
I'm a shitty actress.
Basically, you start to give yourself horrible explanations for these things and it makes you hate the rest of the world for making you feel this way. I don't want to hear that it's all in my head I'm mad and I want to feel justified in being angry right now, OK/!??!?!!
ugh.
Monday, February 6, 2012
myths I tend to believe
I'm a person who is most definitely superstitious. Here is a complete list of normal everyday superstitions to ridiculous beliefs that I have:
1. people act different/abnormal things happen to you when there's a full moon
-- Not joking, I drop almost everything and feel very depressed and anxiety ridden whenever
there's a full moon. And no, it's weeks away from PMS so they're unrelated. My family will
fight a lot, I lose things a lot, and I really just don't feel like myself.
2. not eating birthday cake or wedding cake is bad luck
-- You should always have a piece of cake at your own birthday or wedding
3. Engagement rings from broken relationships are bad luck and therefore will curse the next relationship if they're used for another proposal, no matter who the giver/receiver of the ring is. Same goes for cancelled weddings, that dress that was bought is bad kudos.
4. If you think there's a ghost in your house and you invite that sort of negative energy towards you, a ghost will be there.
-- Sounds silly I know, but my family has always believed in energies and that beliefs draw
negative and positive energies towards you. Even if it's not a ghost, there's something. Our
old apartment in Worcester had voodoo people living there before us, aka chicken feet hanging
from the ceiling and creepy stuff written on the walls before we lived there. I always thought
the place was haunted and trust me, it was.
5. What goes around comes around.
-- Whether you're talking shit or doing something you shouldn't be doing, being negative all the
time will only affect yourself in the long run.
That's all I really got for now. I'm sure there's other things I'm forgetting about at the moment like you have to eat the whole fortune cookie before reading the fortune or it won't come true...
1. people act different/abnormal things happen to you when there's a full moon
-- Not joking, I drop almost everything and feel very depressed and anxiety ridden whenever
there's a full moon. And no, it's weeks away from PMS so they're unrelated. My family will
fight a lot, I lose things a lot, and I really just don't feel like myself.
2. not eating birthday cake or wedding cake is bad luck
-- You should always have a piece of cake at your own birthday or wedding
3. Engagement rings from broken relationships are bad luck and therefore will curse the next relationship if they're used for another proposal, no matter who the giver/receiver of the ring is. Same goes for cancelled weddings, that dress that was bought is bad kudos.
4. If you think there's a ghost in your house and you invite that sort of negative energy towards you, a ghost will be there.
-- Sounds silly I know, but my family has always believed in energies and that beliefs draw
negative and positive energies towards you. Even if it's not a ghost, there's something. Our
old apartment in Worcester had voodoo people living there before us, aka chicken feet hanging
from the ceiling and creepy stuff written on the walls before we lived there. I always thought
the place was haunted and trust me, it was.
5. What goes around comes around.
-- Whether you're talking shit or doing something you shouldn't be doing, being negative all the
time will only affect yourself in the long run.
That's all I really got for now. I'm sure there's other things I'm forgetting about at the moment like you have to eat the whole fortune cookie before reading the fortune or it won't come true...
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