My mom once joked that I have been thirty-five years old since I was three. She’s absolutely right; I am definitely an old soul. Whether that is good or bad, who knows, it just simply is for me. I’ve had my version of life figured out for a very long time. What I’ve had to learn along the way however is that not everyone does. And much to my consternation at the time I came upon this realization, we aren’t all old souls. Despite being wise to this information in my old age, one of the hardest lessons I have to learn over and over again is that life isn’t black and white. Much to my dismay, I keep stumbling upon large shades of gray in various life situations.
Like I said, as an old soul, I’ve had my version of life figured out since forever. Part of this and my being a black and white person includes a high moral standard that I hold myself to, and unfortunately tend to hold others to. I’m so black and white, that I never even mixed the two colors in art class as a child. As I’ve gotten older that the moral issues that have to be dealt with have changed, and with that change comes gray. We move from the black of its wrong to cheat on a test to the gray of cheating significant others.
I am adamantly against cheating on a significant other. Whether you are married and cheating or single with a married person, I think it is unacceptable. My friends all know this about me. Which is why I found myself surprised on multiple occasions when friends have told me that they were a cheater or a cheatee. (Cheatee: a single person who is canoodling with a married person.) What do you say to a friend who tells you something like that? Is there a right thing to say in that situation? I don’t know, but stuck with I care about you but don’t agree with that decision. When you see people cheat in movies, you tend to think less of them. Have you see the movie “Unfaithful?” Nobody likes Diane Lane at the end of that movie. Oddly enough, real life isn’t as black and white as the movies. I found shades of gray in a situation where I never expected there to be any. Because at the end of the day, these people were still my good friends. Making what I considered to be a poor choice didn’t change who these people were deep down or the reasons why we were friends.
On a lighter note, I had recently decided to do a spending diet, where I attempted not to eat out or shop on line for thirty days. What I realized after a week of being good and sticking to the plan was that things come up. I had an unplanned birthday happy hour to attend and another friends going away party. Things that I hadn’t planned for but were important and I needed to be at because they were for really good friends. I’d already missed one friends wedding, all hell was going to break lose if I missed her going away party. Things like that are important. And the world didn’t cave in because I broke my spending diet, which I had intended to be a black and white issue. Although not super significant in the grand scheme of things, it was a good reminder that life isn’t set in stone or perfect. That entering the gray zone is okay every now and again.
Being an old soul, I know exactly what is right and wrong for me. What is black and what is white. For me. That’s the distinction that I need to remember. That life isn’t black and white for everyone. And that it’s good to surround myself with people who aren’t afraid to dip in to the gray. Turns out you learn something about yourself when dipped into the gray, willing or not. And the gray can be fun. So despite my better judgment, bring on the gray. In appropriate amounts of course.
October 23, 2009
October 19, 2009
Ted Mosby
Throughout our years, we come into many versions of the perfect guy. First it’s Prince Charming, who can do the waltz perfectly. Then it’s some teen heart throb, like Jason Priestly or Mark Paul Gosselaar. Then it’s the high school quarterback, etc. The guy I am currently pining after? Ted Mosby. *sigh*
Like Prince Charming, he’s fictional, but has all those qualities that us single girls are looking for. He has a full time job, is witty and charming, and has the best hair. The writers of “How I Met Your Mother” have done a great job creating the perfect guy that the modern, semi-grown up girls love.
Here’s the thing though, he’s the coolest guy yet goes season through season, looking for his perfect significant other. He has a fair number of dates, and a fair number of nights as the sexless innkeeper, but can’t quite seem to find the right person. Heck, since Robyn (one of the other characters on the show), he can’t find anyone to even date long term. And if Ted Mosby, the guy that all us twenty something girls want to date, can’t find the relationship, where does that leave the rest of us?
The funny thing is, despite the fact that Ted Mosby is a fictional character, we all have a Ted in our lives. And like the CBS Ted, our own Ted’s have charm, personality, looks and occasionally the hair, yet can’t seem to find the right girl. And like the CBS Ted and his co-stars, all parties are perfectly happy being platonic friends with our real life Ted’s. Mine sits next to me at work.
Ted Mosby is pretty much the perfect guy in my opinion. And since he’s still somehow single, there’s hope that someday he and I will randomly meet and live happily ever after. And if he and I are not destined to be, at least the show is prefaced by him telling his kids how he met their mother, which means there is a happy ending in there somewhere. And if Ted gets his happy ending, I’m willing to bet that most of us will too at some point. Perhaps if we all start trading our platonic real-life Ted’s. And until then, we have Monday nights.
Like Prince Charming, he’s fictional, but has all those qualities that us single girls are looking for. He has a full time job, is witty and charming, and has the best hair. The writers of “How I Met Your Mother” have done a great job creating the perfect guy that the modern, semi-grown up girls love.
Here’s the thing though, he’s the coolest guy yet goes season through season, looking for his perfect significant other. He has a fair number of dates, and a fair number of nights as the sexless innkeeper, but can’t quite seem to find the right person. Heck, since Robyn (one of the other characters on the show), he can’t find anyone to even date long term. And if Ted Mosby, the guy that all us twenty something girls want to date, can’t find the relationship, where does that leave the rest of us?
The funny thing is, despite the fact that Ted Mosby is a fictional character, we all have a Ted in our lives. And like the CBS Ted, our own Ted’s have charm, personality, looks and occasionally the hair, yet can’t seem to find the right girl. And like the CBS Ted and his co-stars, all parties are perfectly happy being platonic friends with our real life Ted’s. Mine sits next to me at work.
Ted Mosby is pretty much the perfect guy in my opinion. And since he’s still somehow single, there’s hope that someday he and I will randomly meet and live happily ever after. And if he and I are not destined to be, at least the show is prefaced by him telling his kids how he met their mother, which means there is a happy ending in there somewhere. And if Ted gets his happy ending, I’m willing to bet that most of us will too at some point. Perhaps if we all start trading our platonic real-life Ted’s. And until then, we have Monday nights.
October 12, 2009
That's My Name
For the first five years that I worked downtown, I walked past the same Starbucks every day. Actually, I went by about eight of them, but one quickly became a favorite. I stopped in usually at least once a week to get my usual Americano with room and sometimes a bite to eat. Because I was there on a fairly regular basis, Starbucks does what it does best, customer service. They knew my order when I walked in and had already started making it before I got to the counter. One barista there was so nice that he’d slip me extra treats when I ordered food. We knew each other so well in fact, that we’d wave and exchange hellos if we ran into each other in other parts of Portland.
Sadly, my company left that part of town. Now instead of walking past Starbucks on my way to work, I walk past homeless shelters and have to be diligent about watching where I step. Puddles don’t just happen spontaneously when it hasn’t rained in days. Although the homeless folks are mostly friendly, often saying good morning or telling me how beautiful I am (I’m pretty sure its because I have all my teeth), it’s not the same as someone knowing who you are when you walk through the door.
That all changed again recently. And this time it wasn’t Starbucks. It was the gym. That’s right, the people at the gym know me by name. Although it makes sense since I’m there at the same time 4-5 times per week, it still threw me off the first time it happened. I walked into the gym like I always do on my way home from work, because its right smack in the middle of my commute home, and I was greeted by the check in girl who called me by my first name. Without even glancing at my membership card.
To this day, I am still greeted by my first name when I check in at the gym. You know you go to a place too often when they know your drink order or name or what your favorite scone is. But if you frequent a place so often that they know you as more that just a random customer, it’s probably not a bad thing that the place is the gym.
Sadly, my company left that part of town. Now instead of walking past Starbucks on my way to work, I walk past homeless shelters and have to be diligent about watching where I step. Puddles don’t just happen spontaneously when it hasn’t rained in days. Although the homeless folks are mostly friendly, often saying good morning or telling me how beautiful I am (I’m pretty sure its because I have all my teeth), it’s not the same as someone knowing who you are when you walk through the door.
That all changed again recently. And this time it wasn’t Starbucks. It was the gym. That’s right, the people at the gym know me by name. Although it makes sense since I’m there at the same time 4-5 times per week, it still threw me off the first time it happened. I walked into the gym like I always do on my way home from work, because its right smack in the middle of my commute home, and I was greeted by the check in girl who called me by my first name. Without even glancing at my membership card.
To this day, I am still greeted by my first name when I check in at the gym. You know you go to a place too often when they know your drink order or name or what your favorite scone is. But if you frequent a place so often that they know you as more that just a random customer, it’s probably not a bad thing that the place is the gym.
October 2, 2009
Red, White & Blue
I’ve never considered myself patriotic. To me, liberty and freedom is simply a way of life that I’ve never had to question. I was born and raised in the US and don’t know any different. Red, white, blue and the pursuit of happiness simply is.
I was 20 years old when 9/11 happened and I remember it vividly. It was terrible, the realization that a group of people could hate my country that much. This was the start of me changing my attitude towards America, or at least when I paused to think about what we had here. My protective bubble that I had been raised it now had an awfully big hole in it.
Then I had the opportunity to start traveling internationally. It ticked me off that others would travel with a Canadian flag on their backpacks and lie about being Americans. I’m guessing the Canadians aren’t real happy with a bunch of idiot Americans passing themselves off as their countrymen either. I wasn’t even sure why I really cared about something so inconsequential, but I did. If I put flags on my travel bags, I would have a Canadian and American flag – I’m a citizen of both countries. But why deny and be ashamed of where you came from? As a nation, we haven’t been perfect by any means, but what nation has? As an individual, I felt like I had an opportunity to undue any unjust stereotypes American travelers had. That we weren’t all loud, obnoxious and rude. That we could respect other people’s customs, especially when in their country. That we could be calm, polite and slow to anger . . . even when getting screamed at in Japanese for having the nerve to visit the Hiroshima Memorial.
So when did the big change come? I think it’s when my favorite brother had to go to war. When I realized that whether I agreed with this war or not, soldiers were dying. Not for our own freedom that we take for granted, but for the chance that other people could potentially experience the same thing. (And for oil, but I digress.) And despite my severe dislike that the US is in the Middle East at all, the soldiers and what they’re representing I respect and appreciate. I love that about Americans, that we can hate the war, but still say thank you to a soldier we pass in the airport.
I’ve heard the national anthem more times than I can possible remember. Pre 9/11, it was something you had to sit through to get to the start of a game and politely clapped for when it was over. Post 9/11, I love that people cheer and yell during the last few lines. It puts a big goofy grin on my face every time. Finally people are excited to be Americans.
Without the terrible tragedies that we as a country have suffered together in the past decade, I don’t know that we as a country could have gotten to a place where we’re proud again. I’m not sure I would have gotten to a place where I cared. I hope that the excitement continues and twenty years from now, people still cheer for “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” I hope that I continue to be pro-American. And I hope that through misfortune and uncertainty we are able to create an atmosphere where the next generation can continue to be proud that they are Americans.
I was 20 years old when 9/11 happened and I remember it vividly. It was terrible, the realization that a group of people could hate my country that much. This was the start of me changing my attitude towards America, or at least when I paused to think about what we had here. My protective bubble that I had been raised it now had an awfully big hole in it.
Then I had the opportunity to start traveling internationally. It ticked me off that others would travel with a Canadian flag on their backpacks and lie about being Americans. I’m guessing the Canadians aren’t real happy with a bunch of idiot Americans passing themselves off as their countrymen either. I wasn’t even sure why I really cared about something so inconsequential, but I did. If I put flags on my travel bags, I would have a Canadian and American flag – I’m a citizen of both countries. But why deny and be ashamed of where you came from? As a nation, we haven’t been perfect by any means, but what nation has? As an individual, I felt like I had an opportunity to undue any unjust stereotypes American travelers had. That we weren’t all loud, obnoxious and rude. That we could respect other people’s customs, especially when in their country. That we could be calm, polite and slow to anger . . . even when getting screamed at in Japanese for having the nerve to visit the Hiroshima Memorial.
So when did the big change come? I think it’s when my favorite brother had to go to war. When I realized that whether I agreed with this war or not, soldiers were dying. Not for our own freedom that we take for granted, but for the chance that other people could potentially experience the same thing. (And for oil, but I digress.) And despite my severe dislike that the US is in the Middle East at all, the soldiers and what they’re representing I respect and appreciate. I love that about Americans, that we can hate the war, but still say thank you to a soldier we pass in the airport.
I’ve heard the national anthem more times than I can possible remember. Pre 9/11, it was something you had to sit through to get to the start of a game and politely clapped for when it was over. Post 9/11, I love that people cheer and yell during the last few lines. It puts a big goofy grin on my face every time. Finally people are excited to be Americans.
Without the terrible tragedies that we as a country have suffered together in the past decade, I don’t know that we as a country could have gotten to a place where we’re proud again. I’m not sure I would have gotten to a place where I cared. I hope that the excitement continues and twenty years from now, people still cheer for “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” I hope that I continue to be pro-American. And I hope that through misfortune and uncertainty we are able to create an atmosphere where the next generation can continue to be proud that they are Americans.
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