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A Fresh Coat of PaintThere are people who couldn't imagine a worse punishment than spending a Sunday afternoon faced with a paintbrush and four walls begging for a fresh look. I'm not one of them. For some reason, I find painting incredibly cathartic. I've never been sure if it's the constant, repetitive motion that requires no thought, and therefore releases my brain to think about other things, or if it's something else entirely. Regardless, I had a bit of an epiphany this afternoon, while I was painting the living room and kitchen of my new place. Life takes a toll of the walls of our houses - little boys scuff and ding them with their baseballs, and the everyday dirt slowly piles up, and their look changes. What was once fresh and new becomes dingy and dated. We pass by those walls every single day, and it becomes so routine that we forget to look, to assess the condition. I watched the paint smoothly glide onto the walls, hiding all imperfections - that smudge from the last tenant's shoe scraping the wall, the dirty handprint under the light switch - and when I was done, I was reminded again of how much difference a little time and a little paint can make. I wish that camouflaging the effects of life on ourselves was a little easier. I wish that the bumps and bruises that I wear around every day were as easy to erase. If only I could make decisions knowing that the past disappointments and heartache weren't coming along for the ride, that I wasn't using the past to make decisions about the future. Not that learning from our pasts isn't great, because it is. But where is the line separating learning from our pasts and letting our pasts dictate our futures? Is it stupid to wish that I could paint over all of that? Is it naive to think that life would be easier if there were certain emotional places that didn't hurt every time someone accidentally touched upon them? Is it irrational to stand in my living room and wish that I could put a fresh coat of paint on my soul, and start all over? To look upon life again with the wonder of a child who knows that the boogeyman isn't real, and who trusts those she loves with an unconditional fervor that is the greatest love of all, and who wakes up each day with thoughts of dreams and hopes instead of disappointments and obligations. I want to go back to those days of eternal innocence and unlimited optimism, instead of walking around every day knowing that boogeymen (and there are certainly more than one) are all too real and all around us, and that the people we love all too often don't love us back as much as we'd like, and that life has more disappointments than joys on any given day. At what point, do you think, do all the scuffs and dings, the bumps and bruises, the disappointments and pain, start to change who we are? And how do we make sure they're not changing us for worse, but for the better? I think I'm going to need more paint. "I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time." -Jack London
Cancun Party #3I'm in Cancun baby!!
This year should be just as good as the last several have been. I'm meeting up with the Tamworth (London) boys this time around, and I'm really looking forward to it. 10 days this time, and it doesn't get much better than 10 days in the sun and sand, with nothing to worry about than how drunk I want to be by noon.
I hope all of you are well - I know it's been FOREVER since I've written - but now you have the Cancun stories to look forward to!! (And I know that's the only reason some of you read this blog!! haha)
"No regrets. Live life to the fullest, and don't ever look back." -Me
I Almost Feel Tough . . .My lesson for the week:
(Softball, thrown by a man with massive arms)
+
(My [formerly] beautiful face)
=
No, those marks on my face are not stitches. They are the imprint of the softball threads into my skin. The ball literally hit my face so hard that the threads cut their mark into my skin. Let me explain. I was playing softball with my co-ed team Thursday night, and during the course of the first game, managed to take a softball right in the face, thrown by the man who hit three home runs that night. He had a pretty strong arm, as evidenced by the ball he threw knocking me straight out. I literally dropped like a rock. But then I woke up, sat up, and continued on playing for the remainder of that game, and the next. After that, though, I decided that I should probably go to the emergency room, because I felt like crap. My whole face felt like someone had hit me with a bat (or a softball, as it were). Anyway, the final prognosis is that I have a concussion, whiplash from the impact, and a broken nose. Wonder of all wonders, I have no bruising. I never bruise, which is more evidence of my weird-as-hell body.
My face does hurt pretty damn bad, though.
"I shall grow old but never lose life's zest, because the road's last turn will be the best." -Henry van Dyke
AmbitionI think Martin Luther King, Jr. said it best:
If you know me very well at all, you've probably heard me say this quote. It's one of my favorites, and it means something incredible to me.
There lives within me this all-encompassing desire to succeed, to make something of myself. I'm not sure where it comes from, but I do know that I've had it my entire life. It's not necessarily the need to make a lot of money, although that will be hella nice, when it happens. (Can you feel the confidence there?
 ) I am not happy just doing anything - I have to be good at it. That goes for work, sports, parenting . . . just life in general. I don't want to live my life just coasting along. I want to be able to look back 70 years from now (yes, I plan on living a long time) and know that by being alive, I made a difference.
Since I am so particular about my own ambition, I find myself being more and more particular about the ambition of men I'm interested in. It's no longer enough for me to meet a guy who is hot and funny and good to me (and good in bed . . . ), he has to have that ambition that MLK Jr. was talking about. I don't care what the guy does for a living, whether it's construction or teaching or law or whatever. What I do care about, though, is how important it is to him, and how much he strives to be the best at it he can be.
Isn't it funny that the older we get, the more we learn about ourselves? The last five or six years have been such eye-opening ones for me - I hardly feel like the same person I was back then. And in many ways, I'm not the same. I've become a mother, I've fallen in love and subsequently suffered a broken heart, I've learned to understand myself, I've embraced sexual freedom, and I've made a name for myself professionally. All of these changes just help to underscore my need to be someone, to be the best that I can be. I am happier today than I have ever been, and that is because I'm living my life the absolute best that I can. Life is good - wring every ounce of happiness out of it that you can!!
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat." -Theodore Roosevelt Much Ado About . . . a Lot, ActuallySince I've been away for so long, I thought I'd let you know what's been going on in the life of Courtney these days. I'm as busy as ever, with more men in the picture than I ever thought possible (and I'm sure that surprises none of you!) So, here goes:
I started my current job nearly a year ago, and almost from the first moment, I felt like I had found 'my' place. I felt comfortable with the people, comfortable with the policies, comfortable with the general outlook, and the direction the company was moving in.
A year later, and that feeling has intensified. Right now, I'm working a lot, and we've made so many changes I'm having a hard time remembering them all, but I love going to work every day. And that makes all the difference in the world. And I feel like every single day I make a difference, and that feels oh, so good.
Braeden is doing very well. Even though he is meeting all requirements for moving on to first grade, his teacher is still recommending that I hold him back, which makes absolutely no sense to me. I've decided to go ahead and send him on to first grade, and I feel very confident in my decision. Basketball season has just ended, and t-ball season has just begun, and I'm playing on a softball team as well, so our weeknights and weekends are full of sports. (Still no single parents, so it looks like the Northwest Arkansas people are still working on their marriages.
 ) Other than that, I think he's just enjoying being a little boy. We have a new puppy, whom Braeden aptly named Cosmo. He is super-cute, and a bundle of energy. And I'm continually cleaning up for him. Isn't he just too cute?
In January, I talked about my recent diagnosis with PCOS, and the steps my doctor and I were taking to treat it. We haven't had a lot of luck getting all the symptoms to go away, and with controlling my hormone levels, so he sent me to a specialist last week, who performed all sorts of wonderful tests on me. I should be hearing some results back pretty soon. I just want to be done worrying about all this crap. On a brighter note, however, the insulin resistance drug the doctor prescribed has had a wonderful side effect - I've lost 12 pounds! I can't see it anywhere other than my face, but even there it looks pretty damn good! Have a look for youself:
You can't deny that beautiful face! (And yes, you can punch me for my arrogance later.
In the course of things, this would be the time for me to talk about all the men, but I think we need an entire blog post for that. This thing would be way too long if I started talking about all of them. So I'll leave you wondering . . .
"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." -Eleanor Roosevelt
The Prodigal Son Returns . . .Okay, okay, I'm sorry I've disappeared for more than a month. I'm not dead, or lying in a hospital somewhere (as some have suggested), I've just been very, very busy. My birthday was last week (and where were alll my birthday wishes??!!) and I celebrated for way too long. And there are lots of men in my life suddenly!
Anyway, I shall return. Hope all is well with you! Heart Attack . . .So, a week after having the dream that Braeden was kidnapped, I lose him in a clothing store. Monday night we were shopping, and I was looking at some jeans. When I turned around, Braeden was nowhere to be seen. I freaked out. Probably more than I normally would considering the previous dream. I immediately started yelling for him, and when he didn't respond, I caught the first employee and told them I had lost a child and to lock the doors at once, not letting anyone out until I had found him.
He was only lost for about 7 minutes, but I believe those were the longest seven minutes of my life. Nothing had happened to him; he had wandered off and then couldn't find his way back to me. We were both crying by the time we found each other. I need a vacation. "Children will not remember you for the material things you provided, but for the feeling that you cherished them." -Richard L. Evans A Sense of the SixthI very rarely dream. Or, maybe the correct way to say that is, I very rarely have a conscious memory of any dreams I may have. However, I have been known to have a dream, and then that dream come true.
The first time it happened, it was with something very insignificant. I have a friend, Luke, who I didn't see for about 4 years after graduation. He moved away with the Navy, and I was still here at home. One night, I dreamt that I saw him at a football game. The next day, I told my mother about it, because it was odd that I would dream about someone I hadn't seen or even talked to in years, and we were actually on our way to a football game. And who do I see walking up the sidewalk outside the stadium than Luke? It freaked me out, to tell the truth.
Since then, it's happened a couple more times - but never with something important. The dreams have always dealt with seemingly insignificant things. What's tricky, though, is trying to figure out which ones are going to come true, and which are not. The ones that do come true have a common theme - they're very real. There aren't any imaginary elements in them. It's almost like I'm watching a movie starring myself. The other dreams all have imaginary components (the recurring dream in which I'm being chased by a dragon, for example), and I never expect they're going to manifest themselves.
The reason I'm writing about this is that I've had two very disturbing experiences lately, one a true dream and the other more of a conscious something. A couple of weeks ago, I had another one of those dreams where everything looks perfectly normal, like I'm actually living whatever is in the dream. Braeden and I were out and about, doing our normal everyday things. And then suddenly the dream plunged right into a nightmare. Braeden was kidnapped. And the dream was so specific and detailed. I remember calling the police, and answering their thousand-and-one questions. I remember going through my digital camera, looking for my most recent picture of Braeden (which was one from his basketball game the Saturday before). An Amber Alert was issued, and at the end of the dream, the police were telling me that he had been missing for too long, and we probably weren't ever going to find him.
I woke up in a cold sweat, and immediately went to Braeden's room, just to physically make sure that he was still sleeping there in his John Deere-themed room. I've been on hyper-alert for the last week, because I'm completely freaked out by the thought that this might turn into a real-life situation.
The other experience wasn't a dream at all. It happened while I was wide awake. I was getting ready for bed one night a few days ago, and suddenly the only thoughts in my brain were dealing with the death of my grandfather. I was envisioning his death and funeral in my mind, but I was wide awake. I tried to stop thinking about it, even going so far as to turn on my radio next to my bed to distract my brain. Nothing worked, and I couldn't sleep for thinking about what I would say as a eulogy at his memorial service. I finally had to get out of bed and write down the eulogy that I had written in my head, and once I did that, I was able to go to bed and go to sleep. But I was very upset by the whole thing. I've said from the very beginning that there are just a few people who I would be devastated to lose, and he's absolutely one of them.
The next day my grandmother called and said that Papa had been put in the hospital the night before, with chest pains and breathing problems. He seems to be fine now, and is no longer in the hospital, but I wonder what else was going on.
I'm not sure what to think of all this. I have always been a staunch believer in that elusive 'sixth sense' that some people seem to have. I think that everyone has it, but a lot of people don't recognize it, whether accidentally or intentionally. I think we're all connected by more than just the physical realm to one another. But right now, the otherworldly connection is freaking me the hell out. And I'm praying that the dream about Braeden was just that - a neurological manifestation representing something entirely different.
"Life is eternal, and love is immortal,
and death is only a horizon;
and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight." -Rossiter Worthington Raymond UpdatesSo I thought now would be a good time to give you all some updates on things I've mentioned here recently.
Since my car was totaled, I had to very quickly find and buy a new one. I worked with the dealership owned by a man whose daughter is married to my cousin, where the finance manager is my old boss from the bank, and I used to date the salesman. Nothing like having a few connections to make the whole process a little easier, eh? I was able to buy the vehicle at such a low price that it absorbed the negative equity I was bringing in from the wrecked car (which was also brand-new, dammit). And it is really pretty! Look:
I decided to go with something a little bigger this time. Nothing like getting hit by a 1-ton pickup to illustrate how little a car can be. (And just so you know, I do have gap insurance on this one. No one can say I didn't learn my lesson.)
It was a month ago that I wrote about my recent diagnosis with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. I started taking the medication, and as of last Sunday, three weeks in, I had lost 10 pounds!! Ten pounds!! Can you believe it? I have steadily lost about 3 pounds a week since starting the medication, and I just almost can't believe it. I'm not doing anything differently than before, but I'm finally seeing results. I can't tell you how absolutely awesome and exciting this is. I don't know how much longer these results will keep happening, but I'm going to keep enjoying them while I can!
Of course, as soon as I brag on Dextric, he goes and does something incredibly stupid. I'm not going to give a lot of details here, but it involves alcohol (and perhaps something more), sex (with me), and passing out. Considering that I had not been drinking (or doing anything else), perhaps my patience was lower than normal. Anyway, I'm sure I'll get over it (he has apologized), but I just think I'm too old to deal with shit like that anymore.
So there you have it - my life in a nutshell. A new ride, a trimmer body, and some complicated baggage. Ha!
"Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create fact." -William James
In Case You Were Not Already Aware . . .News flash: Life is complicated.
I am known (online and off) for my independent nature. I do not feel the need to conform to society's standards for living, regardless of public opinion. This applies to all aspects of my life - love, sex, work, parenting, family, etc.
For the last three years I've bucked the norm by remaining single and enjoying it. I've had a ton of fun, and experienced some incredible things (Cancun anyone?). My family has had a hard time understanding that, and apparently I've done a sucky job of explaining it. For those of you who are unaware of the culture here where I live, this is a special place. The Bible Belt region of the U.S. places a huge emphasis on traditional actions. It is considered very unpopular for young people to be unmarried parents, or for anyone to be attracted to someone of the same sex, or for anyone to participate in 'intercourse' outside the 'holy sanctity of marriage'. It is also very rare to find a woman of my age that is not married or divorced. In fact, there are several woman from my graduating high school class that I can think of off the top of my head who have been married or divorced several times by now.
At this point in my life, I feel like I'm ready for a relationship - emotionally ready, and that's an accomplishment for me. However, there are so many other things going on in my life - I'm not sure I have the time or the energy for that kind of a commitment. By the time my day ends, I know that I've wrung every possible ounce of get-up-and-go that I have, and that's without a man at all!
At the same time, there are so many decisions to be made right now. Two of the most important current choices: 1) Braeden's teacher has recommended that he be held back to repeat kindergarten next year; and 2) I'm having to decide on a new vehicle by noon tomorrow, and there is the tricky situation of a lack of gap insurance and a totaled-out brand-spanking-new car. The car decision is a pain in my ass, and difficult on the budget, but I can make that one by myself. The decision regarding Braeden's education, however, is a hard one to make. (This is how it works: his teacher can recommend that he be held back, but it's my decision in the end.) The problem there is this decision, a decision that I have to make solely on my own (his father's response when I told him the situation was "well, I'm sure you'll make the right choice"), will have a lasting impact on Braeden's life. Whether I choose yes or no, there will be repurcussions. How the hell do I possibly make a decision like that? I'm not qualified to be making those kind of decisions!!
My current relationships with men consist mostly of 'friends-with-benefits' arrangements. I have no problem getting together for a little physical release, but I don't have the time, generally speaking, to sit and have a conversation. I've got 'friend-friends' for that. There is one man that is making a run for something more. Dextric (originally mentioned here) is still going strong, and I find myself liking him more and more. He's smart and funny and just a little bit goofy, all of which are major pluses in the pros column. He understands that I don't have a lot of free time, so he's perfectly willing to come over to my house at 9:00 p.m. (after I've put Braeden to bed) and sit and talk with me while I do homework, until midnight when he leaves to drive the 40 minutes back to his own house. He's not needy, as evidenced by the lack of pouting that occurs when a couple weeks go by before we see each other, and I very much appreciate that. I was just at his house last night to watch a movie, and after the movie we laid in the bed and cuddled and talked (no sex - it's okay - I'll give you a minute to gasp in shock) for a couple of hours. And it was really, really nice. (Did I mention that he's a social worker? And that he's also going to school like me? Is he perfect or what?)
The point of this entry (which has been unbelievably long and rambling - I'm sorry) is that while I enjoy being on my own, the last several weeks have had me wishing for someone around to cuddle, and for someone to help me make the decisions that kick my ass. I feel a little bit lonely, and a whole lot alone. I'm sure it'll pass, as it always does. For tonight, though, I'm going to hug my body pillow a little tighter, and dream of a really, really yummy man.
"What is uttered from the heart alone, will win the hearts of others to your own." -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Ouch . . . That HurtHere's a little lesson in the Laws of Nature:
(Snow)
+
(My car - before)
+
(An icy, steep hill)
=
(My car - after)
AND
(My poor, poor car)
Braeden and I were both in the vehicle. I had just picked him up from school, and we were headed home. There is a long, really steep hill (not the one pictured, actually - I wasn't going to chance driving to that one again), and it was covered in ice and snow. I started down it, and immediately started to slide, which isn't a big deal, since I know how to handle a slide. What was a big deal, however, was the minivan some stupid idiot had left illegally parked in the street at the bottom of the hill. Instead of my slide coming to a stop at the bottom just because there was nowhere else to go, I came to a stop when I hit the minivan. That didn't cause much damage, to either of our vehicles, but the 1-ton pickup sliding down the hill behind me that smashed into us did. Braeden was in the backseat, and came very close to being very seriously injured. As it was, both of us had to be transported to the hospital in an ambulance - he ended up with only a minor bump on the head (thank goodness), and I ended up with whiplash (and I hurt like hell today).
My car is probably totaled, which means that all the work I did just five months ago, researching and buying a new one, was all for naught. I'm going to have to do it again. But at least neither Braeden nor I were seriously injured. That is what's most important, after all.
"The difficulties, hardships and trials of life, the obstacles one encounters on the road to fortune are positive blessings. They knit the muscles more firmly and teach self-reliance. Peril is the element in which power is developed." -W. Matthews
The Ups and the DownsKids are great. Just when you think you're making progress, they show you just how far you have to go. Case in point:
Braeden and I were on our way to Buffalo Wild Wings tonight (it is Thursday, after all), and I stopped off at an ATM to get cash. (A little back-story here - there are arcade games at the restaurant that Braeden plays - I allow him $2 before dinner and $2 after dinner.) When I was withdrawing the cash, he said, "Can I have a dollar to play the games?" I told him that was why I was getting the money, and then I said, (jokingly, of course), "You wouldn't even love me anymore if it wasn't for my money." He protested, and then was quiet for a moment.
We continued driving along, listening to the radio, when he said, "You love me even when you're mad, remember? And you're proud of me even when I lose at basketball. You're proud of me no matter what I do."
I have to tell you - I got a little teary-eyed. There are days, as a parent, when I wonder if I'm making any impact on my son at all. I wonder if those moments when I scream and yell and get angry are the moments he's going to remember. I wonder if he knows how much I love him, and how empty my life would be without him in it. And then along he comes, and says exactly what I've wanted to teach him. That no matter what, I will always love him and be proud of him. If those two concepts were the only two that I had the opportunity to teach him, I would be happy. Because of all of them, those are the two most important to me.
Of course, it was a scant 20 minutes later, as I was still basking in the glow of parental success, that Braeden decides to throw down one of the most spectacular tantrums of his lifetime. Thank heavens that the normal noise level of BWW is rather high, because I managed to avoid the attention of most of the patrons. I was not so lucky regarding the super-cute boy from work who just happened to be walking by our table at the same time.
Nothing like a kicking, screaming, tears-streaming-down-the-face five-year-old to bring me back to earth.
"Children will not remember you for the material things you provided, but for the feeling that you cherished them." -Richard L. Evans
Why Do YOU Do This?Because I had nothing better to do (read: I was procrastinating from school and house-cleaning), the survey that Beth brought to my attention on her blog enticed me. It was developed by Darren of darrenbarefoot.com fame, and it made me think a lot more than I was expecting.
It was nice to reaffirm within myself why I began blogging, and why I continue. I've been incredibly busy lately, and it becomes easier and easier to use excuses about why I don't have time to blog, instead of just sitting my ass down and doing it.
I have to say that writing about why I love blogging re-inspired me. I'm not promising posts every day (c'mon, people!), but I promise to make them more worthy of your time. (Although I personally cannot think of a better use of your time than laughing at my mismatched shoes debacle.)
So I guess I'll say thanks to Darren for the survey, and to Beth for introducing us. Go get inspired yourselves!
"Life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight." -Rossiter Worthington Raymond
Let This Be a Lesson . . .If you're ever in a really big hurry to get ready to go out, make sure you do a final once-over to check your ensemble/appearance.
Otherwise, you might show up at the restaurant looking like this:
Yes, those are my feet. And yes, I was actually outside the restaurant, when my date said, "what the hell are you wearing?"
Apparently, I should not be so indecisive about my choice of footwear.
"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You." -Dr. Seuss
HopeI have had some lingering health problems for the last several years now, and have been told numerous things as to the root cause. I've gone through doctor after doctor after doctor, with most of them passing off my 'symptoms' as psychological and/or stress-related. I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to know that something is not right, but to be told that you are imagining things.
When I started my new job, I quickly found a new physician about a block from my office, hoping that he would be convenient for my health-care needs. What I found instead was a doctor that actually listens when I talk, who asks questions that actually mean something, and who works to find a reason behind any complaint.
And so, finally, last week I was given a diagnosis. Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. I cannot tell you how relieved I am just to have an answer to the question that has been on my mind for years! As of now, we are treating this with hormone therapy (i.e. birth control pills - since I'm not actively trying to get pregnant!!) and (since the condition also causes insulin resistance - similar to that of diabetes - which itself causes weight gain and an inability to lose weight) an insulin resistance drug called Metformin. I can't give you an update on how the drugs are working, but really what I'm most excited about is knowing what's going on, and what I need to do to fix it, and also knowing that I have someone in my corner - namely, Dr. Olsen!
This condition is entirely reversible - so wish me luck, guys. I'm going to be doing my best to make 2007 the healthiest year of my life!
"Our strength grows out of our weakness." -Ralph Waldo Emerson |
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