Sunday, January 31, 2010

all i have to do is dream...


Ah, REM, that blessed part of sleep where the imagination runs wild, the stage associated with processing emotions, retaining memories, and relieving (or reliving) stress. Depending upon your personal cycle, one will usually experience three to five episodes of Dream Sleep (REM) each night. Strange that we don’t remember them all.


I’m a dreamer and by that I don’t mean that I am a “dream the impossible dream” type of girl…although I do tend to fantasize about the impossible more often than I care to admit. What I mean by dreamer is that I usually remember at least one or two of my dreams every night. It baffles me that others aren’t the same way. Talk about missing out! Although I have had my share of terrifyingly upsetting dreams, I also have my share of fun, exciting, and hopeful ones as well.


Last night’s fit into that latter category.

Sparing you the details of a somewhat confusing dream, what I remember most is that I “had” a baby. Don’t remember giving birth or the other fun steps leading up to that blessed event but I had one still the same. The other wrap-me-in-blankets-of-love moment was when I happened to remember who the father was and how excited and pleased we were with our masterpiece of a creation. (For the record, I cannot even begin to imagine the connection two people must feel after that experience. I’m sure it is amazing!)


Needless to say, I woke up with somewhat of a crush on the father of my baby and find myself wishing I was still asleep. But more than that it reminded me of two things:


1. I really do want children. Lately I’ve been realizing how much work it takes to be a parent…a good parent, at that. It must be physically and emotionally exhausting. Making sure that they are cared for, fed, clothed, taught the things that they need to know to thrive, to excel, to become spiritually sound. It must be heart-wrenching to watch your child struggle in life, to see them friendless, teased, to watch how life can sometimes be so disappointing and unfair. It’s a lot of pressure and I’ve seen what happens when parents fail to fully perform. But despite it all, there is something within in me that absolutely wants children and is up to the challenge. I’m sure the blessings of parenthood far outweigh every sleepless night, every neglected task, every changed schedule, every sacrifice. That being said…


2. I want a good husband. Now this seems obvious to most. Everyone wants a good companion, an equal and loving partner. But I want someone who is GOOD...really GOOD. I’ve always been a sucker for nice guys. I am drawn to men who have good hearts and who strive to do what is right no matter what. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, life has dealt me a hand where these guys don’t typically reciprocate my feelings…especially as of late. As a result, questions like “does it really matter” have taken up residence in my brain and I have faltered a bit in my resolve. However, last night’s “husband” is a very good man. One of the best I am acquainted with—of that I am sure. Sadly, we don’t really spend much time together, nor have we ever, really. I’m not even sure if we are compatible. But what I know is that he has the qualities of a good man, the qualities of a good husband. I’m sure that this crush will fade soon, but for now, he is the face of my personal course corrector—something that I really needed…when I needed it the most.


Oh those poor souls who can’t remember their dream sleep. Aside from the physical benefits of completing a full sleep cycle, it’s clear that dreams can serve more than one purpose…for me anyway…


And to my dream husband...thanks, babe. :) (I'm really not as crazy as I may appear right now.)

Monday, January 18, 2010

i heart iron chef

THIS, Ladies and Gentleman, was A favorite activity from my Christmas 2009 trip home...not THE favorite....but A favorite. (It was pretty high up there though.)

What do you get when you combine the Food Network, Bobby Flay, and intense competition?

Heaven? Not quite, but close.




It's Iron Chef, silly!

Iron Chef Bobby Flay and some White House lady (no disrespect) vs. Iron Chef Batali and Emeril. Two hours of mad cooking skills, creative masterpieces, and lots of Bobby goodness. It was a grand sight to behold. Bobby Flay and his compadre won, of course. My little heart couldn't have been happier.

2010: year of the "don't put the bold on hold"


I must give credit, where credit is due--this year's new mantra


"Don't put the bold on hold"


is a phrase lovingly borrowed from my good friend, Sarah. A few years ago, this was her year's mantra. For 2010, it is mine.

Quite recently, a few of my really good friends have made big decisions. Considering that I am feeling that change is in the air, I have been watching them and admiring their go-get-'em attitudes. It's something that I've always wanted to adopt but for one reason or another, passivity has held me back. What if something went wrong? What if I made a wrong decision? What if I was rejected? I realized however, that I have been worry unnecessarily. So what if I fail? At least I tried. Worrying about something before it has even happened or WILL ever happen takes up entirely too much energy and time. I'm not condoning leaping without looking. Weighing options is still a valuable part of decision making. But be brave! I realized that no one is holding me back expect for me. So, if I want to save all my money and travel to Italy, then I'm going to. (That might take a year or two, but still. Do it!) If I want to take a class, I will rearrange my schedule so that I can. If I want to tell someone exactly how I feel, I will. The possibilities are endless and the idea of taking control is well, liberating.


So here's to 2010 and the year of "Don't put the bold on hold!"

Here are a few things that I am excited for this year...

1. Learning more about nutrition and cooking
2. Reading more books
3. Going to the gym
4. Dejunking my apartment and life
5. Reconnecting with friends
6. Improving my relationship with God
7. Learning more about my Poly culture & heritage
8. Being more honest with myself and others
9. Serving more
10. Being brave

...to be continued as I see fit...

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

R-E-S-P-svee-T. find out what it means to me. ...

I have a new found respect for working mothers...and fathers.

Last night I babysat one of the most darling 1 going on 2-year-olds on the planet. He's a happy baby, chunky, and just so sweet. There is nothing better than him snuggling up on your shoulder when he is getting sleepy. I had offered to watch him long ago but the opportunity never worked itself out until just recently. We set up the appointment last week. A 2.5 hour gig immediately after work. No problem...or so I thought.

Now nothing terribly difficult or trying happened. Nothing even close to that. Again, he was a pleasant baby. We played, we laughed, we had a good time. We read books, played in his cardboard house, played with the locks on the door, and ate Goldfish (He ate Goldfish. I can't stand the things.) But by the time my 2.5 hours were up, I was
exhausted. Granted, I hadn't been sleeping well for the past few weeks, I had just completed a full day's work, and I hadn't eaten for several hours, but still! I was so tired when I got home! Mothers (and fathers) around the world do this very thing day in and day out. They don't do this once a week or once a month. This is their life. This is their work, the most important work that they could ever do.

I left wondering and hoping that should the day come for me to be a mother, I would have the energy to keep up with a child. That I would have the patience and know-how to teach meaningful life lessons. I came away appreciating what my parents sacrificed for me and my brother and sister. I came away appreciating that my dad would constantly be looking for ways to better provide for the family and to still make time to teach us of his heritage, to develop talents, and to give us opportunities to do fun things. I came away appreciating my mother and her tireless efforts to help us excel in school, to counsel with us when we were faced with difficulties, to keep us fed, in clean clothing, in an organized home. Parents are simply amazing.

Now I don't know what the future holds, but I do know this. Watching parents through adult eyes is a completely different experience from when you are young. I'm grateful for that but wish I would have had a better understanding while growing up. I also realize now that being single, in no way, prepares you for the type of exhaustion, love, and sacrifice that inevitably comes from parenthood. And yet I still look forward to the day for that to happen...all the while hoping to discover the secret formula to unlocking unlimited energy (not in a powder or liquid form).

Sunday, January 10, 2010

hell, spells, and seinfeld

I feel like my life has the makings of a Seinfeld episode in it...or at least the potential for one. A few differences, however, one being that I am alone in my battle and don't have the well meaning support of kooky friends. For the last few hours I have been tortured by my annoying downstairs neighbors and their @#!$^% music. Now I've never been to Hell but I'm pretty sure that they play that exact music down there. It's sad, really, I used to like Latin music but I can hardly stand it right now. I would be perfectly happy if I never heard Reggatone or this Mexican polka crap that shakes my floors and rattles my furniture and windows ever again.

I've always been one to fantasize about the impossible, but oh how this brings that out in me. I wish that I was Hermione from Harry Potter. I would be casting spells left and right. Perhaps their speakers would disappear, or maybe all they could ever hear again would be Disney songs. No matter what they played or where they went, it would be Disney 24/7..and not even the good songs. It would be the ones that you always skip. And maybe it would only be 4 of them...on a continuous loop! (I can still be somewhat generous.) Oh, the possibilities!



Anyway, borrowing this idea from my upstairs neighbor, the first time this happened I started to bang on my floor with the end of my broomstick. (Maybe I am a witch.) When that would happen to me, I would immediately turn the TV or music down and then apologize with a phone call or something. However, I soon learned with the neighbors downstairs that the broomstick wasn't loud enough. They couldn't even hear it over their horrid music. So in an effort to be somewhat cordial I braved the unknown and decided to head downstairs to have a conversation. I was somewhat hesitant at first because I don't normally go around exploring my building by myself--especially when I know that there are men--probably drunk men--that I need to confront. But I was desperate so I went. I knocked on the door. Nothing. I rang the doorbell. Nothing. I did this for about 4 minutes and then got scared. Visions of them answering the door with a gun flashed in my head so I ran back to my apartment.

Fast forward to today. Knowing that the broom didn't work I went straight for the big guns. I picked up my five pound weights and started to bang on the floor. Much, much better as far as sound production goes. Still no response. At one point I started to switch arms because I wanted to get an even workout between the two. They would occasionally stop, so I would stop. And then they would start up again. At one point they even started to bang on my floor. The nerve.

Here's where the Seinfeld episode started to formulate in my mind: We would go back and forth banging on the floor or on the ceiling. The music would get louder so I would get my music and hold the speakers to my floor. I would choose some score from an opera--something that I love but something that I'm sure would torment them. I would be relentless. Between the weights and the opera surely I would win. But then I remembered that far too often, Seinfeld episodes would end unfavorably for our main characters. As a friendly ending didn't readily come to my mind, Seinfeld then turned into a CSI episode...something much more realistic and believable for my building. I could then picture them pulling out a gun and shooting me through my floor or maybe them coming to my door and as I went to answer it they would shoot me through the peephole. Incidentally, if I am found dead within the next week or so, it was my neighbors in 4E.

I really could have kept up the back and forth for an hour or more if I had wanted to. I was that ticked. But I thought about it and decided to not waste my time that way. Instead, I decided to waste my time complaining about them on my blog.

Pretty please, let me be magic....Evanesco! (It's a vanishing spell.) :)