I loved Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer as a child. I still do, in fact. Maybe it is the universal theme of trying desperately to just belong but discovering that uniqueness is a much better alternative. The Island of Misfit Toys was always the saddest part to me. (Although Rudolph not being allowed to play any reindeer games was sad, too). Here you had a whole island full of interesting characters that were banished from everyone else for being unique.
Sometimes I feel like a toy from the 1980s, while people around me are custom built, straight off the factory line, new toys. I may have the same abilities and talents as the newer toys, but because I lost my shininess long ago, I’m not taken as seriously. This is frustrating to no end.
There’s been a lot of news this week about how children today have much shorter attention spans than we had as kids. And it’s no wonder with all of the things competing for their attention. I think adults suffer from this, too. But for us, it isn’t just that we can’t concentrate, it’s that we can’t even keep up with the people in our lives, our jobs, our responsibilities. So who gets the attention? The squeaky wheel and the shiny, new toy.
You don’t seem to miss me
- Patty Loveless and George Jones
Last night when I was trying to fall asleep I rattled off a list of people in my head that I need to contact for various reasons. Then I counted all of the ways that people could choose to get in touch with me. I counted ten. There are ten ways that someone can “reach out and touch” me, so to speak. In no particular order: 1) Cell phone, 2) Home phone, 3) Work phone, 4) Personal email, 5) Work email, 6) Facebook, 7) Twitter, 8) Blackberry Instant Messenger, 9) Google Talk, 10) Sending a letter to my home address.
One of my relationships has been reduced to a series of Blackberry IMs. I stay in touch with another person through texts and phone calls only. One person I communicate with almost exclusively by email. And there are a lot of folks that I only communicate with through Facebook or Twitter. While I’m thankful to have so many choices and ways to communicate, sometimes I think it stifles the intimacy of the relationship.
There’s really nothing like sitting across from a friend and sharing a meal. There’s no body language through IMs. While you can pick up “tone” in lots of ways, the best way is to hear it. I’m an introvert and I know that a lot of the time I hide behind texts or emails. I can control what I say and edit myself before sending messages that way. In person, sometimes words just spill out with no warning. It’s messy.
I’ll be without access to phone, emails, IMs, texts, etc . for a couple of weeks at the end of the month. Something tells me it will be good for my psyche. Maybe I’ll come home with some perspective and a plan to resuscitate some dying by IM relationships. One thing is for sure, I’ll know if I miss those messages and the person behind them. And if I don’t, that’s pretty telling.
- Patsy Cline
Dread is such a wasted emotion. It’s the pessimist’s emotion of choice. It seems so pointless. What good does it do to dwell on something that will possibly be unpleasant? Dreading something doesn’t make it go away and it doesn’t help you feel better about it. It’s almost like a time filler of sorts. I know I have to do x at this specific time which gives me x number of hours, days, weeks to dread it.
But why can’t we stop dreading things? I guess it is part of a basic human instinct of self preservation. We don’t like the unknown and no one wants to deal with something unpleasant. There’s usually a very good reason I dread things and most of the time it turns out to not be quite as bad as I imagined. That’s when I get angry at myself for dreading it to begin with.
I never learn, though. One of the main dread triggers for me is and will always be going to the doctor. Even if it is just for a checkup, or for nothing serious, I always dread it starting from the moment I make the appointment. Thankfully it is rarely as bad as I imagine it to be. So with that in mind, I’m trying my best to make a conscious effort today (as I have a doctor’s appointment in less than two hours) to focus on other things. I’m sad to report, though, that so far it isn’t working. I’m sure my “white coat syndrome” will kick in and they will find my blood pressure to be high when I arrive.
Oh well. I’ll try to at least think that it will all be over in a few hours and how happy I will feel when it is. Anyone have any tired and true dread busters?
I want it more than I can tell
And for once it might be grand
To have someone understand
I want so much more than they've got planned
- Belle from Beauty and the Beast
Remember that feeling of “are we there yet” that you always had every time you got in the car as a kid? Sometimes I feel that way about life as a whole. I’ve always had trouble discerning the supposed joy of the journey from the destination. I guess it boils down to me feeling like there is something greater, something more than this for me. Is this all there is to life? Work, eat, sleep, repeat?
I remember the 21 year old version of myself that was determined to do big things and go big places. Don’t get me wrong, I have had a wonderful life so far, but I wonder about a few particular forks in the road and what would’ve happened had I gone the other direction. Clearly this is the week for me to wonder about those things.
But, so here I am. And the good news is that no matter what else is going on in life, I can still go places and see things. I’ve marked Austin and New York off my list already this year and next up is the big one – Italy! I’ve really started to love to travel in the past several years. I’ve even managed to get the obsessive compulsive worrier side of me to come around and just enjoy the ride.
Travel and family and friends are what provide me with lasting, amazing memories. These are the things I’ll look back on in one year and in 50 years and smile. Here’s to Italy and here’s to even more new places in the rest of 2010!
There's a dream that I always will dream
And the hope keeps me waiting
- Little Big Town
Sometimes it is just inevitable to sit around and wonder about what might have been. Ugh, just typing that phrase makes me feel, I don’t know, a bit ill, because really, Amy? Really? Aren’t there more important things to do than to dwell on the past?
I know I could better spend my time on other thoughts, hopes, dreams, ideas, etc. Heck, I could even use that time to write instead. I’m inquisitive by nature and I think my mind is still trying to make sense of old news. Maybe this is just my way of continuing to deal with it, or my attempt to learn something from it.
But what happens when there doesn’t seem to be a lesson to learn? What happens when you can’t, no matter how hard you try, see the bigger picture? I guess that’s why I can’t seem to let it go. If I keep analyzing it, rethinking it, then maybe I can come up with a solution.
I can’t change the past, but as far as I know, I can change my present and my future. So I keep searching for the answer. Will I get the answer I want, or will I just realize, like I have so many times before, that what’s meant to be will be? I guess we’ll find out…
I know what I want so don’t hold me down
- Colbie Caillat
You know how no matter how old you are, when you express displeasure about anything in your life, at some point some older person is going to say to you, “You’re just at that age.” Meaning, you’re just at that awkward, pre-pubescent age, or you’re just at that age where your baby fat is showing, or you’re just at that age when boys are mean to you because they like you. The list goes on and on and on.
What age is 31, exactly?
For most people, 31 is the age of responsibility – jobs, marriages, mortgages, cars and babies. You’re out of those awkward post college years and in most cases you should find yourself relatively settled into your career and your life. You’re in a routine and you’re stable.
Or you could be me. I’m at “that age.” In my case, I’m also at the age of responsibility when it comes to a career, a mortgage, bills, etc. But I don’t fit the mold in any of the other ways whatsoever. I’m not married and I don’t have kids. And say what you will, but many other 30 something’s around me can verify, that for that very reason, “this age” we’re in right now? It is hard. Super hard.
I have so many friends that are married with kids. I love all of them and I love all of their kids. They look at me and go, “Oh! To be single and do whatever you want whenever you want!” I look at them and go, “Oh! To have someone there when you come home at the end of the day.” It’s a classic case of wanting what you don’t have or the grass always being greener.
The only thing I can think to do is live my life to the very, very fullest and to try my best to enjoy each day. Whatever happens in life will just happen. I’m not tied down, so let’s see how far this kite can go.
Over numbers, encumbered numbered words
More words than I had ever heard and I feel so alive
- Jason Mraz
I’m at a crossroads with the blog here. I have so very many things to say, but in a weird way, I’m afraid to open that box. Once it is out on the web for the world to see, there really isn’t any taking it back. But I figure, what’s a blog without honesty, right?
So I’m going post a series of entries that may be a little raw and honest. Maybe it’ll be cathartic in a way, or maybe it will just come across as selfish and whiny. Either way, get ready, here I come.
I hate the Super Bowl. There, I said it. It actually feels good to get that out there. I know it seems so crazy, but let me explain.
I love college football. Love, love, love. I grew up watching Alabama football and I’ll spend the rest of my days doing the same. To me, watching a bunch of college kids work hard and play hard is fun. Those guys may not be making straight A’s but at least they are being held to some academic standard of achievement, albeit a minimum one. I’m not a fan of professional sports. To me, it is watching a group of grown men that are insanely rich get richer. And come on, who among us mere mortals wouldn’t like to list “play games” as our occupation? So maybe I have some resentment there about grown people playing games for ridiculous amounts of money. Here in the real world, we work pretty much 48 weeks out of the year and collect an amount per year that is probably equal to what professional athletes make in a single game.
The whole Super Bowl thing just depresses me for other reasons, too. For one thing, it is in the winter. And by winter, I mean the dead of winter. You know, the post-holiday funk, will the sun ever shine again part. To top it off, it’s on Sunday night, which for me, most weeks, is the dreaded, ugh tomorrow is Monday timeslot. So by all means, let’s all go to parties and eat too much and drink too much on a Sunday night. Monday will be awesome, no?
Next thing: As a former advertising major and current ad junkie, the Super Bowl should be a big, bold exercise in watching the creativity of agencies and companies in full flourish. Instead, it feels more like an exercise of “which commercial sucked the worst?” And “they spent HOW MUCH for those 30 seconds?!” Each year, for every Google "Parisian Love" there is an you can insert your own worst ad, I don’t even have one this year. It also makes me miss being in the ad world, too.
And last but not least, the 18 hours of continuous coverage? Come on, isn’t that a bit much? Pre-game, Kick off show, game, half time show, post game report, etc. etc. It’s too much. And it is all ratings driven and why do we have ratings? Ah yes, that money word, there it is again.
The Super Bowl is a habit, a pastime, a fun activity, a tradition for millions and good for you if you’re in that category. But me? Well, I’d rather catch up on shows on my DVR and read.
Wait, did I really just use Glen Frey lyrics? Yikes. Old much? Hmm... don't answer that.
So I was given the opportunity by a friend from high school and college to be featured in a blog for her company magazines.com. She emailed me a series of questions about my magazine reading habits, my favorite magazine, etc. It's a cool concept and she is featuring a different person each month. As my luck would have it, the first profile featured a dude that reads the New Yorker. Yeah...so... what did I pick as my favorite?
Well, you may have to wait and see!
In the meantime, here's a burning question - for the article, she told me to feel free to put in links to ther sites, so should I link to this site? Do we want random people reading the amydabbsness or no? I can't make up my mind, so it is up to you dear reader(s).
I've never been so insecure of what I know
I've gotta figure this out
I need a story to tell
Where's the feeling I long for?
I've gotta figure it out
- Erin McCarley
I don’t like change. That’s just all there is to it. Even when I know it would be good for me, I have a hard time taking that first step. Because, after all, what is scarier than the unknown? And I’m at the perfect time in my life to pretty much up and do whatever I want. I’m not married and not tied down in any way whatsoever (except for that pesky mortgage).
So the question is what do I want to do with myself exactly?
And the answer is a resounding, “Yeah, I don’t know.”
Until I moved away for college, I lived in the same house my entire life. My parents, thankfully, have been happily married for almost 40 years. I've been going to the same church since I was 6 years old, and I still attend when I’m home visiting. So, I come from a rock solid environment and for that I’m thankful. But I worry it has almost made me complacent.
Making the decision to go to The University of Alabama was a hard one. It would’ve been much easier to go to UAH and live at home and basically have the same exact life. It would’ve been easier to go to UNA, where I already had friends and would have fit right in immediately and could’ve even come home during the week if I wanted. But in the end, UA was it for me because, lord help me, I wanted, craved, needed that Advertising degree.
It was the right choice.
Moving back home after college was a given, as I had no job lined up and no choice. It worked out for the best as I started my career in a place that allowed me to do a whole lot more work than they should have considering my lack of experience. I met life long friends and enjoyed being back in my home town again. When I finally realized I had gone as far as I could there, I was determined to make my next move be somewhere away – somewhere that I would truly be on my own. Could I do it? Could I survive?
And so far I have. That was seven years and four months ago. My twenties are gone and I feel relatively happy about the way I spent them. Would I do some things differently? Absolutely. But, I don’t regret much and I have learned a lot about myself. I settled into a career that I never would have imagined I would have. I made some great friends and I bought a house.
And now I don’t know what’s next. Not that you ever really do know what’s next, with life being what happens while we make plans and all, but right now I can feel that proverbial crossroads in front of me.
I need a change. And I do mean a whole, encompassing change from the inside out. I’m ready to go places, see things, meet people and maybe try to find that 23 year old girl that wasn’t afraid to take a leap when she saw an opportunity.
“Life is short / Love is sweet / Ain’t no time like this time, baby.” – Carrie Underwood
