Not be like

I've recently observed in my friends that many of them are trying to "not be like their parent(s)". Some more than other have a strong motivator of being the opposite of their parents, or trying to create the opposite environment from how they grew up. Often times leading to irrational behavior, excessive saving or hording. Which leads me to wonder if I do that myself, and if so, what specifically am I trying to 'not be like'?

Left-hand Suzuki Method

While working on a friend of my mom's home computer this weekend. She was left alone with a toddler for a while. When we got back from Target, I was watching him play with a toy she'd given him that probably shouldn't have been a toy. She noticed he was pulling on it cord with his left hand and commented that he was probably left handed. I grabbed a plastic ring from the every-baby toy (the rod with different sized rings) and handed it to him. Trying to offer it to him from his right side. He grabbed it with his left hand. "Yup," she said "left handed."
She didn't seem to imply anything from it, just and observation. I like to think that I possess non-critical observation skills too. And now see where I get some of it from. I'm not sure why, but I was deeply impressed by her.

I'm hurt

They went out partying without me, and my feelings are hurt that I wasn't included. It was even a safe bet that I'd decline. But I wasn't asked. Wow, we really have drifted apart.
I have this strange 'adult' feeling about it all. Like, "You've drifted too. You can't put all of blame on them." And I mean it too. So that tempers the hurt way more than I thought it would.

"We become close to those closest too us."

That's certainly true for me. R. And it's how I use to be with them. But now they live near each other but far (4 blocks) from me. We really are urban dwellers. =)

This wedding really will be a new chapter for me. I'm anxious for different reasons than everyone else. For me this will be another goodbye.

Why is "being me" the hardest thing I'll ever do? Odd that it actually makes a lot of other things in life rather simple. Just do them, and they're done. Simple. But when it comes to myself. I struggle. Painting - easy, pottery - easy (difficult to master), work - easy, money - easy. I need to learn the leasons of self-expression and apply them to my life.

Andrew

Do I hear shouting?

What a wonderfully cool and brisk weekend. The weather was chilly all weekend and made for great sleeping, except for the yelling.
Now the bar down on the street is often loud between 1:30-2:30am as people are leaving drunk and shouting to each other. But something else was happening this weekend that had people shouting well after that. I think it was around 4am but I was so tired I only thought "what is that?" and went back to sleep.
It's amazing the conversations that float up into the apartment. =)

Strange dreams

One of the good things about having a roommate that binge eats at night, is that I find myself wanting to eat less and less. Just seeing the uncontrollable gluttony is enough lower my own appetite. Which brings me to wondering if my body has found a supply of Prozac, because the dreams I've been having are getting vivid.

Last nights dreams was about someone falling, then gliding into a college campus. Wandering around with their mini-glider under one arm. Turning around looking for stuff and ending up somewhere else. Then at some point time jumped and there were two of him. He called himself and they decided to try and find each other. I watched as one of them, still with the glider under his arm, found himself in a office. The glass door leading to a hallway read "Security Personal Only", but two people were walking by. One of the two said "He's waiting for you out front." They ended up meeting in some open social meeting area. A visitors lobby with tables. The place had a mental facility look and feel. They chatted for a while, and he realized his other self must have said they were twins. Everyone would look over and smile, like they were happy to see them sitting together.

There's more, but it's been evaporating all morning. So that's just the essence of the dream.

Dog and pony

I have a dog and pony show with work today. It's been a week or so since I've touched the material (maybe two weeks) and I'm starting to forget the details a little. So this should be an interesting meeting.

R got sick from a magic cookie last night. Poor guy. I think he might have been a little drunk on top of that. He started in with the "what's wrong with me?" mumbling that barely concious people tend to do, and I didn't know if I should even answer. Would he remember anything I said in the morning anyway? I just told him I thought he had unresolved anger issues. Which I know is rather generic and vague but I really didn't feel like nursing him anyway.

And.... my eye is twitching from stress. But it should be better by lunchtime when my meetings over. "Just remember, fake it until you make it!" ;)

The rushing feeling

I'm having that rushing feeling like life is go by too fast. That I'm not taking advantage of my youth and the years are slipping by. I think it may be a fear affect of stress, since I just had a high stress moment at work. Now that I'm breathing again everything doesn't seem so bad. But the lingering feeling of time wasted is still with me.

I'm still painting and think I may actually keep this one up. I think, for me, I've learned a trick about it. Fake it. I'm not a great painter, maybe not even a good one. But if I fake it, it appears as confidence. I think the phrase is "fake it until you make it." While I was driving home this weekend I was trying to think of what to paint next, and I've decided to do a painting "for me". Which seems like such a novel idea, and so foreign from my usually process.

I woke up Saturday from a strong dream. Most of the story is forgotten by now, but the feeling is still with me. And waking up and being happy it was all a dream is such a new sensation for me. It's like the Prozac dreams of yore had visited me. I'd helped someone get home and had fallen asleep at there place. Then the next morning I went outside and couldn't find my car anywhere. I walked around the neighborhood with my FOB clicking it looking for a response. Only to find two other cars in a garage that responsed to my clicks but weren't my car. I was then forced to scrape up bus fare to make trek home so I could report it stolen. "no good deed goes unpunished"? That wasn't my first thought, but I guess it fits. I think it was more a feeling of being alone. This dream being only slightly better than one days before where I was giving myself different math problems to solve.