Fun With Phobias, Part 2: Presentation Problems

The head of my department at work is also on the executive team for the company as a whole. Typically that kind of person isn’t the warmest or the fuzziest. But, this guy is honestly a really great guy. There is nothing cold, elitist, or ego-maniacal about him. He is very fair and considerate of individuals and seems to advocate strongly for people that deserve it. There is one small hitch, though: he does this thing where he makes each person on the team present, roughly once every 1 ½ years, for a full hour, on something that is not work-related. Last week it was my turn. Cruel and unusual punishment.

I will sing ridiculous songs on karaoke. I will dance on a bar. I have done acting and other types of performance. I will yell and make a general spectacle of myself in public.  I might be a little nervous when I do some of these things, but I don’t embarrass that easily. I am also perfectly fine conducting meetings. But something about presenting just totally throws me into a tailspin. I think that part of it is convincing myself that I could be expert enough on anything to talk authoritatively about it for an hour (ie., confidence). I think that the other, and greater, part of my problem is some kind of post-trauma from grad school.

In order to earn my M.A. in Arts Administration, I had to write a big paper (a literature review – the worst kind of paper! Seriously, how does one come up with a definitive conclusion, based on existing literature, about anything related to the arts?), and then I had to present on it for an hour, and then I had to respond to the questions of an expert panel. I was pretty much a wreck. I worked full-time at a stressful and soul-sucking job while I was earning my masters. I was dealing with multiple familial issues at the time (this was during the height of my brother’s drug problem), planning my wedding, and trying to prepare to move to a new apartment. So, I was pretty much already on my last nerve while I was writing the paper. I was barely sleeping and was suffering from anxiety attacks (something that had never happened before, and hasn’t happened since I graduated).  Though I passionately believe in my topic , I can’t say I was super-invested in the paper.

Then, unfortunately for me, one of my examiners was the author of one of my main sources for the paper. I admire his career, but it also mystifies me that he’s been so successful in activities that bring people together, given that on a personal level he’s a hugely pompous asshole (he taught one of my classes as well, so I had a chance to see him in action). After sitting through two days of my classmates’ presentations (that was another unlucky stroke – I was one of the last ones to present), and watching this same guy absolutely skewer at least two of my classmates (I mean, is that really necessary? It’s not like we were in court, or in front of congress. He even attacked one of them for the grammar in their paper. That’s not even a question or part of his role!), I was pretty much petrified. Naturally, as I was giving my presentation, I choked.

It was long, boring, and presented in a halting manner. My throat was dry, my heart was pounding, my vision was swimming, and I couldn’t think at all. I have no idea what I even said. Thank god David, my cousin, and my parents came to see me present. If I didn’t have them there as a visual anchor I may have passed out.  When it came time for the questioning, dude attacked me by saying that he didn’t recall writing something that I said he had written. I thought I was going to just fall over until I remembered, miraculously, that I had bothered to write page numbers in my presentation notes. I was able to tell tool-face exactly on which page he had written what I said he had written. At which point he shut his mouth and asked no more questions. Win! But the whole experience of that day scarred me, both on presenting and on my topic. Also: the whole idea of possibly going for my PhD and teaching college went out the window (which is probably fine, since I’m now very happy to not have even MORE student loans to slog through)!

So, when it came to presenting for my department meeting last week, I was stumped. And also very uptight and anxious. The only topic that I could think of that was both appropriate and something I know about was arts organizations. I spent hours and hours preparing and worrying. And it went very, very well. An unexpected upside is that it rekindled my interest in non-profit arts orgs, and I’m thinking of starting to volunteer and get involved again. I don’t think I’m cured of my presentation phobia, but I’m certainly glad that my week of anxiety is in the past!

Fun With Phobias, Part 1

If you have read my blog at all you know that I am totally neurotic about food/weight. But, being a well-rounded kind of gal, I also dabble in other neurosis. Last week was a high-anxiety week for me for 2 reasons:  I had to go to the dentist, and I had to give a one-hour presentation at work.

Over the years I have grown quite phobic about the dentist, and this time was particularly bad. I hadn’t been in for a check-up for almost two years. I know, I know. That was terribly irresponsible of me. But, in my own defense, my old dentist was out in the ‘burbs. I live in the city now, and don’t own a car. I bothered to start looking for a new one downtown around the time that one of my teeth started to hurt. I really do actually have very good oral hygiene (though, nobody who looks inside my mouth would believe that)(also, huhuh…I said “oral”). One of the many unfortunate side-effects of bulimia (I will return to that story line at some point soon!) is that it wears down the tooth enamel. Now, even though I have been “cured” for almost 10 years, I still have to deal with the effects of my terrible enamel every single time I go to the dentist. I NEVER leave the dentist without finding out I have a cavity. Ever.  This time, after 2 years, I came to find out that I had numerous cavities aside from the one that hurt. So, last week I had to get 3 fillings on one side of my mouth; then I have to go back in February and get a few more on the other side.

My anxiety about the visit last week was heightened because I didn’t know the dentist. Also because I have a mild case of misophonia when it comes to mouth noises, and can’t stand the sound the Novocain needle makes as it’s going in. Also because I have TMJ, and it’s really hard for me to keep my mouth open wide for long periods of time. Also because I have, in the words of my massage-therapist husband, “one of the worst necks in the world.”  So, keeping my head tilted at an angle for an hour is extremely uncomfortable. In other words, the visit was going to be torture. And it was. It was every bit as horrible as I imagined it to be. PLUS! My new dentist is a giggler. She was chit-chatting with the hygienist, the whole time that I was in agony, and giggling like a teenager. My emotional state was somewhere between crying and stabbing. Note to self: next time, in order to stay on track with resolution to be more loving, for the love of god, bring headphones!

Ugh. Next time: Presentation Problems.

Some Moments in 2011 that Did Not Suck

Because my presence in the blogosphere in 2011 was sporadic at best, I have a whole bunch of photos to share of stuff that we made or did. These are the moments in the fall of 2011 that didn’t suck (I think I already posted the spring/summer stuff that did not suck!):

Here is a soup that we made up, which was basically a whole bunch of random stuff that we had in our fridge and pantry and freezer (well, the homemade chicken stock was in our freezer, anyhow). It was surprisingly delicious:

Everything but the Kitchen Sink Soup

The pot weighed about 10 lbs.:

I made this amazing pumpkin quiche from Closet Cooking:

Isn't it pretty?

Also, delicious. I did not use sage, though, because I feel like sage is meant to be a scent, not a flavor. When I eat it I feel like I’m eating a stick of incense. Instead I used thyme & oregano. Mmm…it was quite labor-intensive though, so not something I foresee doing a lot of. Filo dough is a pain in the arse.

I went to see my old-time famous boyfriend, Mike Doughty, at First Avenue in November. I took numerous photos that didn’t turn out well. Here’s one of them:

The show itself was disappointing…I didn’t feel like he was really bringing it that night. I suppose that even rock stars can’t bring it every night. But he is known for banter with the crowd, and there was none of that. Something about him felt sad to me. It’s a good thing that the night was redeemed by 10 years of shared nostalgia with my friend Shannon, who got me obsessed with Mike Doughty at the tender young age of 22. We can be heard shrieking in the crowd on his album Smofe & Smang!

The day after Mike Doughty, David and I went to Winona to see one of my BFFs and her Hubby. Here’s them hiking in the bluffs behind our alma mater:

Here is a sign nailed to a tree in the bluffs:

Other things we did in Winona: attended an anarchist potluck (for real!Interpret as you wish). Rode bikes around town. Good clean fun!

Finally, some pictures of our private Solstice/Christmas celebration! We don’t have kiddos (and I do have “the baby rabies”), so we play santa for our dog (surrogate baby). Worth noting: David and I didn’t even get gifts for eachother!

Our dog is very, very spoiled

But seriously, how could we not spoil her?!:

I made this amazing garlic/lemon roasted chicken for dinner, and now I can’t find the recipe! That is the problem with finding recipes on the interweb – there are so many good ones, it’s hard to keep track! Hopefully I will find the printout in my messy apartment somewhere, cuz this was delish!:

Oooo…Fancy!

I think that’s it (finally) for the 2011 wrap-up! On to bigger and better things!

 

I Had to Resolve to Stop Before Any More Shins Get Kicked

These are the incidents of me yelling at people in public that have inspired me to “bring back the love” in 2012. Now, these are kind of funny in hindsight, in an oh-my-god-I-did-that way. And, I can’t say that I don’t still feel that all 4 of these people deserved to be yelled at. BUT! In the future I hope to let people know that they are being ass-hats in a more constructive and respectful way. Also, I should maybe consider that the ass-hat in the situation could be me before I actually open my mouth! Self-awareness within a community context is the goal! Even if it is my own self-awareness, and I become aware that I suck. Right. Now for the stories:

1. At the co-op on a super-busy day, having trouble navigating my cart through the produce section. A late-middle-aged woman in an expensively “arty” coat is standing in front of me, completely blocking all possible outlets. I had said nothing, and had made no sounds, was patiently waiting for her to move, when she she looked over her shoulder at me and snottily said  “well, what do you want me to do? There’s nowhere for me to go.” I then responded (in my head my tone was that of the New Yorkers portrayed in movies) “how ’bout you just back up LIKE A NORMAL PERSON? This isn’t EDINA lady!” (for non-Minnesotans: this was happening in one of the hipster parts of the City proper. Edina is known as the most entitlement-prone of the cake-eater suburbs).
2. David, Stella (our dog), and I were heading out to the car. On the way to the car Stella decides she needs to take a crap. She proceeds to do so in the area between the sidewalk and the road (what is that called, anyway?) in front of our crazy neighbor’s house. Crazy neighbor lady landscapes that area every summer (though it is technically city property) and then yells at everyone all summer for tromping through it while trying to get to their cars (there is almost no off-street parking in our neighborhood). Crazy neighbor lady likes to yell at people  for a lot of totally batshit reasons. She also likes to corner people and make them listen to her rants and general grievances. David and I have politely listened to her for over a year. BUT, on this day Stella has decided to take a crap just as crazy neighbor lady is turning the corner onto the block. I spot her about 30 seconds before she spots us and David and I literally fly into a panic because we know what’s coming. David sprints toward the car to retrieve a poop bag. I am standing right next to Stella pressuring the poor girl to hurry up, or possibly scoot to the plot in front of our house…but it’s too late. Crazy lady starts yelling halfway down the block: “HEY! PICK THAT UP!!!” Oh my god. David and I are TOTALLY (please forgive the pun) anal about picking up the poo! I yell back at her “YES! WE’VE GOT IT! HE’S JUST GETTING A BAG.” She whines “it’s just really gross when I’m weeding and there’s poop there because people don’t pick it up.” Me: “We always pick it up!” Her: “well, somebody doesn’t” (her tone TOTALLY implies that she thinks it must be us).  At this point Stella is finished making her deposit, and David has it in the bag. I snatch the bag and march toward the garbage can, throwing over my shoulder “GOD! Quit YELLING at people all the time.” Now, she was (and frequently is) totally out of line. But, really? I yelled at her for yelling! She might actually be mentally ill. Whether she is or not,  she’s clearly a miserable person for some reason…perhaps feeding into her misery isn’t the best way to deal with her.
3. I was getting into the car with Stella. I had a bunch of stuff to load up, so the back door of the car was still open, with Stella sitting in the backseat, as I was trying to play Tetris with all the crap that had to fit into the car. I failed to notice that another neighbor woman was approaching with her dog about half a block away. Stella had not failed to notice, and had jumped out of the car to say hello, without me noticing. Stella isn’t the type to approach another dog uninvited (she’s shy), so she was standing on the sidewalk next to the car. I hadn’t even noticed that Stella was out of the car until the woman, still standing halfway down the block, started yelling “can you move your dog, I’m trying to get by!”. Apparently I didn’t hear her/move Stella fast enough (my hands were full), because she yelled again “move your dog! I’m trying to get by and I don’t want my dog to hurt her.” Which I guess would be fine if she could have waited for 2 seconds for me to grab Stella, and if I didn’t also see her EVERY SINGLE DAY walking her dog, and know that her dog has NEVER made so much as an aggressive sound at Stella in almost 2 years of interaction. When she started yelling for the third time in less than 30 seconds, as I was grabbing Stella, I snapped and said “YEAH LADY!!! I’ve got her! She jumped out of the car when I wasn’t looking! You could have waited half a second! CHRIST.”  And then before slamming the car door I mumbled “your dog is fine!”  She stood there dumbfounded that I had yelled back until I pulled away. I have since wondered if that woman is ALSO actually mentally ill. There’s really no other explanation for why she sees me twice a day every day walking my dog, and always acts like she doesn’t recognize us. She also always behaves as if she thinks her dog (clearly at least half Rott) is vicious, but the dog has never acted anything other than sweet. Weird. I probably shouldn’t yell at sick people, right?

4. The final, and craziest, incident happened when I was in line at the liquor store during the holidays. It’s a crowded store anyhow, with not much space for people to go. It was very busy; people were lining up and having difficulty finding places to stand in line. The woman in front of me hadn’t moved up when the last several people had gone up the register. The man behind me took it upon himself to ask her if she planned to move up. She said “I’ll move when I’m ready, honey. There’s no reason I have to move right now.” He made a vague motion behind him and said “there’s no place for people to go.” She said “it’s a big store. Those people are fine! I’ll move when I damn well please, honey!,” and turned around in a huff. I don’t know what seized me, maybe it was my OWN flagging patience with the stress of being downtown during the holidays. But it just slipped out: “Merry Christmas, crabby pants” I muttered. Oh man, that really did it. The woman spun around and yelled “don’t be like that, those people are FINE!” I said “they are stacking up, there’s no place for them to go, and you’re taking up much more space than you need!” Then the man behind me chimed back in and the argument went back and forth between them until it was her turn at the register. When she went up to the register, and I think that guilt started to set in for the guy behind me. He walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder, as if to apologize, and she whirled around, wound up, and KICKED HIM IN THE SHIN!!! At that point both of them got kicked out of the store. She tried to implicate me and get me kicked out too, but I calmly stood my ground and said “well, I didn’t kick anyone.” BUT, she is probably right. It may have never escalated to that point had I not added me two cents. I’m an instigator!

So, there you have it, friends. I need to get my anger in check. Just because the world is crazy doesn’t mean I have to go ahead and add to it. My sassy mouth is apparently a dangerous weapon that can lead to violence.  The end!

2012: Let’s Face It, These Are Resolutions

My 2 Lovely red-headed friends and Me (in my thematic dress!)on NYE 2012

For the last couple of years I have attempted the kinder, gentler approach to New Year’s resolutions. I have tried selecting a “theme” for the year, and have also tried loosely-defined “intentions.” I guess the intentions were good in that I ended 2011 feeling like I actually achieved something based on what I wrote that I wanted to achieve. But on the flipside of the coin, I think that I could be just a little more free from the issues that bog me down (mainly weight & finances) if I had set some measurable goals. So, this year I’m  back to calling resolutions resolutions!

I think that like to avoid setting measurable goals because they make it harder to make excuses for myself.  If I know that I’m supposed to do something by a given deadline, and I know it far in advance, and it’s been in the front of my thoughts because there’s a deadline, it makes it harder to come up with reasons for not doing it. The funny thing is that I’m a project coordinator for a living. I set goals and deadlines, and then (nicely) harass people to meet them. Apparently, from my discussions with other project managers, it’s pretty common that people who are really good at managing projects do not apply their talents to their personal lives. In the spirit of project managing myself for once, I’m going to try a grab bag of approaches to New Year’s resolutions: most of my goals are specific and measurable, one goal is absolute, and one goal is a little more thematic!

2012 Goals:

1. My theme for 2012 is “finding the love again” – Remember when I used to be cheerful? Accepting? Empathetic? Kind-hearted? Even patient?  If you’ve known me for 5 years or less (or, only through this blog!) you probably don’t remember that. I’ve become the type of crabby, cynical, sarcastic, stabby person that yells at people in public (O.K., honestly, I’ve always had the major sass, but it used to be much less aggressive and much more balanced by kindness!). I don’t like it. I don’t want to be the kind of person that escalates a negative situation. I want to return to some elements of my hippie-dippie self of days past (minus the partying) and focus on being a light-bringer again!
2. Absolutely QUIT QUIT QUIT SMOKING for good!!! – I’m on day 4, and thanks to my above theme, I haven’t even felt like choking anyone this time! ; )
3. Get to my goal weight of 130 lbs by April 1 – I am currently at 155, which means I will lose 25 lbs in 3 months. That seems doable!
4. Put at least $500 in savings each quarter – I’m thinking at least $75 out of each paycheck
5. Pay off my last high-ish interest credit card ($2500) by end of year – $208 per month.

Not nearly as big and crazy as usual, but things that I think my chaotic self can actually attain that will be really, really good for me. Wish me luck, and best wishes to you all on your goals for 2012!

2011: Super-Lame Year with Unaccountably Good Results

Two things: Obviously I’m not writing about what I said I’d write about on Thursday. Frankly, the timing for posting the first part of the story was a bit off. And, it’s just a lot of text. Blahblahblah…Also obvious, from the title of this post, is that this is my annual wrap-up post. And that it is my feeling that 2011 universally sucked the big weenie. Seriously, do you know ANYONE that had a good year?! I don’t. The whole year was one big shitstorm. For the hubby and I, that meant one financial disaster after another, family health problems, professional “disruptions,” two doggy emergencies, lot’s of difficult times for our friends and families, and a bazillion events (that were mostly fun, but not very good for our already-empty wallets!), etc., etc., etc.  

Somehow, despite the constant maelstrom, I did manage to make some headway on the intentions I set for the year. I paid off a credit card. I lost 30 lbs. and kept it off. Making time for exercise has become a set part of my daily routine. I cut way down on alcohol consumption (I backslid a bit during the holidays, but am back in the saddle again!). I have eaten out much less, cooked much more, and started making a lot of my own household stuff (thereby not polluting and not giving money to corporations that don’t deserve it!). All things considered, I am quite proud of myself. For once I managed to get stuff done, despite feeling like jumping off a bridge for much of the year! Yay!

Here are the major things that I learned throughout the course of 2011 that I think have really contributed to being able to break through the blocks that have kept me from accomplishing some of these things for so long:

1.  I’m a big excuse-maker. I mean, I knew it before, but I don’t think I really understood the extent of it until this year. For example: there is nothing wrong with my metabolism. My GI issues/allergies/thyroid/whatever are not to blame for me being fat. I got fat because, in the immortal words of Dave Matthews, “I eat too much, I drink too much, I want too much, TOO MUCH!!!” Part of why I have fallen into being such a big excuse-maker is
2. I care too much about whether or not other people care about me. This is kind of where I’ve been going with the whole eating disorder discussion. I have had this really unhealthy need to be cared about that seems to be both the cause and effect of my troubles with food, and I’ve been wanting to get to the bottom of it. However, just realizing it and changing my behaviors and checking my attitudes accordingly have made a huge difference in my outlook on life.
3. Having realized that people don’t, and aren’t going to, care about me for the impossible reasons I’ve been harboring (looking good, being good at something,  accomplishing things), I have been able to stop making excuses and start honoring more authentic reasons for moving forward. The key is that I’ve learned the difference between caring and attention. I don’t want or need attention, and caring comes from myself first. I know this might seem a little “self-help 101,” but it’s been pretty profound for me. I don’t want to spend my life striving for the carrot of achievement. I want to spend my life being happy. Striving for my dreams and nothing else.

Really understanding all of the above has helped me to just admit that I am a deeply flawed person. Everyone is, whether they tell you about it or not. Being O.K. with just being deeply flawed has created a lot of space for me to start thinking about what it is that I really want to go for in 2012! More on that later…

Chaos Backstory: The Wonder Years

I started writing this post in August. I promised to post it in November. And now, as the year is drawing to a close, I’m finally ready to put it up. Because as I wrote in this post, I think it’s important to know the backstory when attempting to frame up the future.

I have never, at any point in my life, been what people would have considered “dangerously” thin. I have been slightly underweight, but nothing that anyone would have seen as cause for concern. More of my life has been spent being overweight.  Nobody could ever see that there was anything wrong with me (aside from being “fat”); and therefore, as people gradually learned about the eating disorder (ED) that I was actually treated for, they tended to write it off as a phase. In their eyes, my ED didn’t go on long enough to constitute a major life event.  I was never at death’s door. And “obviously” they couldn’t have been that serious, since I “allowed” myself to get fat again. The truth in reality is that I have had eating disorders in one direction or the other for almost my entire life, and for me they have always been a serious issue, despite what may or may not have been perceivable to others.

When I was in grade-school, I was painfully shy, but it’s hard to say which came first: the shyness, or the bullying. I was never a skinny kid; I was always a little bit rounded. But I was never overweight until I was seven.  My family moved to a new neighborhood that year. It was the year that intensive attention began being paid to my little brother and his special needs for getting through school. By default, or by virtue of not having any problems, I was on my own. Unfortunately, that was also the year that I was first allowed free reign in the kitchen. Since my eating was no longer being monitored, I did what any depressed seven-year-old would do: I ate a ton of junk food. It wasn’t lost on my classmates that I was getting bigger. The teasing started, and it didn’t stop until I decided to switch to public school for junior high, instead of going on to private high school with the rest of my classmates. It didn’t stop, even though I did actually lose a lot of the weight between dieting (I started dieting at age nine) and growth spurts before I left.

When I moved on to junior high, even though I was starting with a clean social slate, I had two major problems to contend with: 1. I had stopped growing at age 11, and my body was already fully developed, 2. Thanks to the previous seven years, it was already deeply ingrained in my head that I was fat, and therefore did not deserve love, kindness, sympathy, respect, or pretty much anything good. Obviously, the latter was to be the bigger problem.  The chip on my shoulder ensured that I still got targeted. Some of the more harrowing experiences happened during those years (being picked on while undressing in the locker room, having to file an on-campus restraining order because one of the few bullies from grade school that also switched to public school was still following me around the hall in high school yelling fat-based slurs).

Throughout jr. high and high school, I did make many good friends. A good core group of friends was something that I had been lacking before, and it was such a relief to finally feel like I wasn’t all alone. But I still always saw myself as the ugly duckling, and in hindsight, that warped vision of myself had already begun to create a much different internal world for me than what others saw on the outside. The body dismorphia aspect of an ED was definitely in full effect by the time high school rolled around.

I was always bracing for the next emotional hit,  and had therefore developed a bit of a sharp edge. I cringe when I think about some early attempts that boys made at asking me out. I was incapable of seeing myself as attractive, and completely used to being defensive about my appearance. One clear incident was a boy who was perfectly nice and not at all the type to be cruel, that attempted to ask me out and was met with an incredulous “no!” simply because I couldn’t believe that he was asking me out. I thought that he was being sarcastic and just teasing. He never spoke to me again – for good reason! I had unknowingly totally mortified him! Sadly, this would become a bit of a pattern in my early romantic life. I often didn’t realize until it was completely too late that my behavior , based on my own reality that others had no idea about, would seem totally bizarre and confusing to normal people who thought that I was a normal person.

Tomorrow: As if College Wasn’t Crazy Enough.

The Only Effective Protest

I’m not a big believer in protests, particularly not in the United States. They rarely accomplish anything, and what they do accomplish is often just some small appeasement to make everyone shut up. Protesters are basically like flies on a cow. They swarm around the massive government and corporations and get lazily and easily swatted down.  I am, however, a big advocate of movements. And what moves people in this country? Money.

I thought that the whole “leave your bank” movement within Occupy had promise. If you’re pissed off about something, the best way to protest now is by not financially supporting it, if you can help it at all. I think that it should have extended beyond banks to all kinds of corporations. Had there been a more organized effort, wouldn’t it have made more sense to just say “hey, a-holes, we don’t like what’s going on. And we are not going to give any more money to corporations that have shipped most of the jobs overseas, or are making greed-based layoffs,” or whatever your grievance may be.

The economy, as far as I can understand, is still supposed to be pretty circular. Businesses can’t bring money in if they’re not putting money out (in the form of wages). Well, our current economy shows that they CAN do that, at the cost of private citizens.  They can do it because they can get cheap labor elsewhere, and people will still pay the same amount for the final product. This is how our country got so top-heavy: people (individuals – don’t even get me started on corporate personhood!) getting richer and richer without actually contributing anything to society. So, if you feel truly passionate about putting this country back together, stop putting money in to businesses that aren’t functioning like good citizens. You can yell all you want, but nothing talks as loud as money. If you cut the money off, they’ll get the picture eventually.

So, this is where we get back to the generations analysis. People in American society really like their “stuff.” For various reasons, we have a really difficult time with the idea of not having a lot of stuff, or using stuff until it wears out, or putting any real thought into what kind of stuff we buy. The last generation in this country that really had to pull together, or really knows what it’s like to live without a lot of stuff, is still around, but is slowly passing on. My grandmother (of the Greatest Generation) knows how to make almost everything she needs to survive, and she knows how to fully use the things that she does purchase. She only purchases items that have real value to life, and ideally they are high-quality items that will last forever. My dad (baby-boomer) retained some of her values, in terms of quality of items, but is mainly interested in convenience, and bigger-better-faster-more. The boomers really created the culture of stuff, and began molding that mentality into self-worth: “you are nothing without your stuff.”

Gen Xers I think are a little less interested in convenience than the boomers (they’ll go the extra mile to recycle, or whatever), but still have enough of the boomer values in them to crave “stability” – a certain level of comfort that is directly related to owning a home and the correct furniture, car, techie gadgets, etc. We still have a bit of the bigger-better-faster-more mentality, and a lot of it is wrapped up in image. We’ve continued to press the agenda of stuff.  Now, of course, generation Y is completely obsessed with image. They have grown up entirely indoctrinated into dependence on corporations. How can they create an image if they don’t have stuff? Who would they be? How would they make themselves special and unique?

I guess I went into all the stuff with the different generations as a way to better understand why the hell people don’t just act on their anger. People prefer to bitch, not act, because acting is too hard (and I am not excusing myself from this behavior!). It is inconvenient. It is uncomfortable. It is scary because we might have to actually face ourselves and each other has human beings, rather than image projections. It is scary because we don’t know what to do with ourselves without our stuff. It is scary because we have never lived without. But the totally irrational piece is that there are still people living, like my grandmother, for whom none of the above was ever a problem! It is demonstrably true that we won’t die from the act of financial dissent! Furthermore, unlike my grandma’s time, there are now lots of businesses that make totally cool, totally ethical STUFF! You wouldn’t even have to totally give it up! All you have to do is think before you buy. If you can’t afford the ethical stuff, than just don’t buy the stuff.

This is what I mean by “financial freedom.” It’s not just getting out of debt, getting out from under the thumb that holds you down; it is also the ability to have a say as a citizen (because if you think that our political process works, you have on glasses so rosy you can barely see). I am still hoping that I will see a time where the members of each of the currently-living generations get over their disparate and selfish reasons for not acting, and actually decide to do some serious rebuilding of the country from the ground (individual) on up. You know – old-school American style.

Talkin’ ’bout My Generation (and Why We’re So Pissed Off)

Hi. I’m back. Suffice it to say, most of the month of November, as well as December, have continued to be just as craptacular as the day mentioned in my last post. However, I know very few people who have not been having at least some struggles lately. Everybody seems to have their something right now. I guess that I’ve been busy grieving for the probability of the life I had dreamed of. My personal process has followed the Kubler-Ross model to a T. I think I’m somewhere between the anger phase and the acceptance phase. Can I invent a new phase called the therapeutic Internet ranting/armchair philosophy phase?

Disclaimer: I make a lot of generalizations in this post, but they are based on some sociological theories on generations. Furthermore, this post is mainly about general observations of and difficulties experienced by my generation, and does not mean to discuss, or to particularly exclude, others.

 I was born in 1979, on the tail end of Generation X.  My parents were on the tail end of the baby-boomers, born in 1957 & 1958. Personally I feel that means that I was raised to expect a shit-storm: don’t trust authority, ask questions, think for yourself, but also have a lot of hope (If you follow the right steps, you’ll make it just fine).  Unfortunately, it seems like those of us that are on the cusp of Gen X and Gen Y inherited the perceptions and values of the Xers, and the economic situation of the Yers. Like a lot of my peers on the cusp of the 2 generations, I grew up feeling well cared-for and well-loved. However, unlike a lot of the later Gen Y, I did not grow up thinking that I was a special snowflake. I did not grow up thinking that the world owed me something. I certainly didn’t grow up thinking or expecting that my parents would take care of me beyond high school. I did grow up understanding that I had to earn the things that I got. And if I earned them, I deserved them. And if I didn’t earn them, I didn’t deserve them (ahem, latter Gen Y).

What seems to have happened in recent years is that there are a whole lot of people out there that, based on the old model of our society, the baby-boomer model, have earned a certain lifestyle.  They have made the investments. They have done the work. But now, rather than getting the big pay-off they get…nothing. They get over half a lifetime of indentured servitude, unhappy with underutilized skills and intelligence, making wages far lower than they should be; mainly to pay on student or housing loans that were touted as bullet-proof investments, not being able to go anywhere, not being able to do anything or buy anything. Here’s what you get for trusting authority, kids.

From out of this group of late Gen Xers and early Gen Yers comes things like the Occupy movement. We did what we were supposed to, and it didn’t pan out. In fact, our lives are worse than they would have been if we hadn’t been suckered into expensive educations or a little suburban jail cell of our very own. Now the corporations and the government have the gall to turn around and tell us it’s our fault. We’re stupid because we made the decisions that we were pushed to make. And now the economy is supposedly failing because we’re not spending. NEWSFLASH: WE DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY, geniuses!!! The earlier of us because we took student loans that weren’t supposed to be a gamble and now have jobs that don’t cover our bills (moi and a lot of my compatriots), and the later of us because we (even more screwed!) have student loans (because apparently you now need a degree to work at Barnes & Noble!) and can’t get jobs at all. And, frankly, we’re pissed. We’re grieving the lives we hoped for and didn’t get. We don’t know what to do with our rage. So we go out and march on the streets before we have really well-defined what it is we’re demanding.

All that being said, I didn’t participate in Occupy. I definitely feel the Occupy movement. However, I’m generally snobbish towards people who don’t plan, at least a little, before acting. Because they didn’t have a cohesive manifesto or action plan, the whole movement came across to the powers-that-be, and to the rest of the baby-boomers, as nothing more than a concerted temper-tantrum. Furthermore, we are in the middle of a big ol’ pile of poo right now. Seriously? The government is going to forgive all these ruinous student debts at the same time? Do you know how much money that is? You do know that the government is already in debt, right?  I don’t actually blame the Occupiers that much for their lack of cohesive thought, though. Our country is in such a mess, such a tangled web of issues right now, that it’s hard to separate them out and look hard at any given problem. There has been a long history during which things got f’d up. We’re not going to work it all out in a month.

Tomorrow: my thoughts on what, I feel, is a more rational and outcomes-based approach to protest, and its relationship to generational mind-sets.

And Then the World Exploded

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces.”

- Renee Zellwegger, Bridget Jone’s Diary

Why is the quote above so true? It seems like every time we start to pull the pieces together, there is not just one, but a series, of explosions that blow all the pieces back apart. Today’s tally for me and my husband:

• $500 in unexpected car repairs (we have no savings and no credit. How’s that for honesty?)
• A major professional crisis that could easily lead to some kind of further financial ruination
• Husband got sick (he doesn’t get sick pay)
• Key family member sick in a big way, arrangements need to be made in the near future, but said family member doesn’t want to cooperate.

It’s 11:00 and I’m super-tired and not feeling able to process anything, but I’m feeling so unsettled that I can’t quite bring myself to go to bed. Do you think that perpetual crisis (seriously, this is not an unusual day for us. This happens a minimum of quarterly, if not monthly) is a sign pointing to “you are doing the wrong things with your life and need to make big scary changes to make it stop”? Or do you chalk it up to “shit happens”? I vacillate wildly between the two.

I know that I can often seem cynical in my writing here, but I think that I really am an optimist at heart. Despite the fact that very little in my life has gone down according to plan, I still have hope that eventually I will not have to live with this boulder of stress sitting in my gut. However, I have a big crisis of faith on how to go about making that happen. My logical mind says “just work at it in  chunks. Eventually you’ll get there. Just stick with it.” But sometimes it seems completely impossible that the logical method will work because every time any tiny bit of headway is gained, something happens to F it all up. There’s not enough time to recover between crises.

My intuition, in these moments screams “Just go. Just drop everything (it’s all shite anyway) and proceed to do whatever feels right. Your probability of success is just as good, if not better that way!” It’s a scary solution. But I’m not sure why – it’s not like we have a whole lot to lose! Agreed upon societal rules? I don’t know.

I guess that’s enough nonsense out of me for one evening. What would you do?  What do you think? Thoughts? Advice?

As an aside, I have smoked today. Kind of a lot. I am not ashamed! The end.