Tuesday, September 27, 2011

What Goes Down...Must Go Up

Yes, you're reading this right. But don't panic, I don't mean this in the traditional sense--Newton, the apple, all that bologna (can you tell science was never my strong suit).
That being said, this past weekend I was schooled in gravity, and learned that maybe Newtown left something out.

As we all learned, last week was a bit rough. I was tired. Drained. Emotional. Moody. Very, very moody. Last week I had two mornings that ended in tears before I even stepped out the door for work and more arguments disagreements with my boyfriend than in our entire relationship. I was in a serious funk and didn't know how the funk to get over it. 

But thankfully, I've recovered (insert violins) and learned that thank GOD moods are cyclical. Unfortunately they go down. Down, down. Way down. Funky down. But my friends, what Mr. Newton left out (because he clearly didn't know anyone with PMS) was that what goes down must also come up. And mine came up in a big way this weekend. Let me explain.

While it was another crazy weekend, I was home for a wedding. I wasn't attending in the traditional sense, however, I was rather trying out my J. Lo skills helping out my friend with all the last minute details on the big wedding day: 

(Shout out to the beautiful bride)!

While I spent the majority of the reception running around, collecting this that and the other, when I left that evening I could tell that I'd really helped out. I saw a weight lifted off my friend's shoulders and it just made me feel good. As corny as it sounds, I felt good that I could help someone else enjoy not just their day, but the day of all days.  And before I knew it, my mood started to defy gravity.

In addition to wedding-palooza, my boyfriend and I were also home visiting his Dad who was recovering from emergency surgery last weekend. While I sat in the hospital room, looking at someone who not only defied the odds and survived a major surgery, but was on a road to recovery, gravity took its toll and my mood slowly began to vanish. 

I looked around at my boyfriend, who I knew was thankful I was there, even if I wasn't doing anything. I looked around at a family that has let me become part of its own; that has not only allowed me in but welcomed me with open arms.

I felt good for the first time in days. Lucky. Privileged. To be able to do things for others, to be present, to be healthy, to have answered prayers and to just be back to normal. 

So when the going gets tough, forget what you learned in school. What goes down will always come up, even if it takes awhile.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Lacking and Slacking

Ever get in a funk and realize, maybe you're just not all there today? I think if you opened up my head today you'd find absolutely nothing.

When I wrote about our big adventure, I joked that things would slow down eventually, maybe around Christmas time. But after these last few weeks, I'm beginning to think I may be eating my words.

So little time, so much to do. Is it lacking or slacking? I couldn't tell you, but lately it seems like a everything is falling into one of these piles:

Mornings fueled by coffee, afternoons by Red Bull and weekends scheduled here there and everywhere; a lack of sleep. 

Papers, projects and chapters finished at the 11th hour that take just as long to complete, yet only contain about half the effort; a slack of motivation. 

A half marathon exactly two months away, yet a schedule and routine that are continuously interrupted; a slack of exercise (also see, "slack of motivation.")

A light at the end of the tunnel, so dimly lit its almost completely disappeared; a lack of attention to school. 

Two overdrawn bank accounts in one day and a pre-work meltdown filled with tears and bad words; a lack of money (also see, "a lack of sleep.")

A blog that sits unloved, unattended and nearly forgotten for 10 days; a slack of attention.

Here's to a lack-less and slack-less tomorrow..

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Chilling Anniversary

I remember where I was; 2nd period Spanish class, just a week into 8th grade.

Few days in our lives can we reflect and remember each year exactly where we were, what we were doing, what we were wearing--the most minimal details of a day that otherwise could have passed as just another day. Except as we all learned in the early hours of Tuesday, September 11, 2001, this would not be just another day.

Today as we remember, mourn, give thanks, I remember that sunny day ten years ago. 

I remember knowing what had happened, but not really knowing as our school chose to operate normally without TV coverage so as not to cause "a distraction" for the remainder of the day.

I remember going home scared, yet naive, about the details of what had unfolded while I continued on with English, Algebra and History.

I remember no one questioning that we would attend church on a Tuesday evening, a special mass for all of us to make sense of what had just happened that morning.

I remember the deafening silence as we filtered into church, the looks of fellow parishioners hoping to find solace that night.  

I remember praying. For those lost, for those missing, for those who would never return home. For friends and for families, my own and all of those strangers whose images and faces had been burned in my brain from endless coverage on TV screens.

I remember trying to have faith, but hoping at the same time that the world wasn't falling apart. That tomorrow another building, and another plane wouldn't see the same fate. I remember being very scared.

Ten years later, on this chilling anniversary, I still pray. Maybe not in a crowded church, but silently on an overcast Sunday lost in thought.  

I pray for those who sacrificed and those who continue to sacrifice today. 

I pray for a war, that ten years later, still rages. For casualties that still mount.

I pray to never again remember another day so vividly.

I pray that today we all remember, and never forget.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

To Routine Or Not To Routine

What a busy week (which you can probably tell from my lack of sharing here...sorry!), but back to school is tough whether you're 8th grade or 18th grade. I finally feel like the storm has passed and after weeks of a trip across America, non stop moving and car bonding time, I'm back on a regular schedule. 

In the last few days of the great adventure, which also happened to be the last weeks of my summer, you think I'd be reveling in the lack of routine. But, I'd hope that at this point we know each other well enough to know that's not how I operate. I remember telling a friend of mine,  while the impending school year was making me want to crawl into bed and not get out, I was looking forward to getting back into a routine and a schedule. Her response? "You're so weird.." If only she knew I'd accepted that a lonnnng time ago.

For one whole week now, I've been doing the routine. And naturally it has its pros and cons. All of this begs the question; to routine or not to routine?


Back to work and school means back to working solid hours during the day and having classes in the evening. I have forced myself to work out everyday this week because I'm suppose to be training for another half marathon. A two hour break between work and class means I know exactly where I'll be. Gross. 

No more car trips. My love affair with the 5-10 hour car rides that have filled our time these last few weeks is officially over. RIP hours of my life I'll never get back, you're surely missed. Don't' think I'm not counting every weekend until I have to hop back in that thing. September 23rd is the next journey home, I have hope I'll be cured by then.

While getting back to school should most likely be on the con list, I can count on two fingers the number of semesters I have left. Funny how you enter grad school in an effort to put off joining the real world, then you're one year down and wish you could drop everything and join right now. However, I know the circus will still be there in May..


Night classes for both my boyfriend and I have resulted in very little relaxing time upon returning home. While coming home is a great relief post-class, I don't think we've eaten dinner before 9:30pm one night this week. Eat, make an effort to clean up the apartment, TV, bed, repeat until Thursday.

Speaking of TV, my poor housewives and Teen Moms have suffered greatly. Between the big trip and then another week without cable I'm scrambling to catch up on all my favorites. Now with school starting I'm falling further and further behind. Rest assured ugly cry Farrah, Maci, Bint-ley and the New Jersey gang (housewives and shore, c'mon now-- I don't discriminate).  You all have not been forgotten..

Now that I'm sharing an apartment, there are two routines. Mine begins at 7:00am, his around 11:00am or later. Damn college kids..

So what have we learned here? Well the grass is always greener I guess. The routine I craved is now here. Womp, womp. 

So when is Thanksgiving break again?