The Scapegoat

There is something that has been nagging at the back of my mind for the past little while, and I think I've just put my finger on it. Before I tell you what it is, I need to disclaimer this by saying that I am a huge part of what's bugging me about this, and my ranting about it is by no means excusing myself from bearing the majority of the responsibility for this. Ok the legal department is giving me the thumbs up, so I can continue.

The word BUSY.

I am SICK of it. I'm so sick of it. It is tossed around casually, and covers all manner of sins. It is the world's biggest scapegoat. A patsy for all the things that you don't want to do. When a friend you haven't seen for a while calls, and you don't call them back for two weeks, what do you say when you finally get around to dialing their number.

"Sorry it's been so long, I've just been so busy"

When you haven't done your dishes in 2 weeks, and your house smells like mouldy cheese and there are cobwebs above your bathroom mirror, how do you justify the mess?

"Wow, what a mess, I've just been so busy I haven't had time to clean"

When you realize that the "new" book you bought from Chapters is actually 6 months old, and you still haven't cracked the cover, what's your excuse for not reading it?

"Gee, I can't wait to read this, I've just been too busy"

BULL!

You've had time to see 6 movies, buy groceries, go to K-Days, lay around for a whole Sunday, read the new In Style magazine cover to cover, watch every episode of Mythbusters, and sit at Cafe Dabar for 3 hours, but you couldn't find 10 minutes to clean your bathroom? That's a load.

Ok, now before I get myself into trouble, I will say that I'm not advocating being a workaholic and running yourself ragged doing all of this stuff and spending 2 hours on the phone at a time trying to get back to everybody who calls, and stay up till 3 AM cleaning your house...I'm just saying let's be honest with ourselves. Let's not exchange the word "busy" for the word priority.
I will freely admit that it is more of a priority for me to watch movies and Mythbuster's with Derek than it is to be sure my dishes are done everyday. I would rather be reading In Style than a novel (sometimes) and I don't like spending time trying to plan out my weeks on the phone, who I will see when, and what night I may be able to scrounge for myself, however, I am not too busy to do this stuff.

I guess I'm just sick of hearing "busy" in place of "don't want too". I'm too busy to email - No, you don't want too. I'm too busy to clean - No, it's not at the top of your list. I've been to busy too call you back - No, you put something in priority sequence above making that call.
Let's just call it what it is. Myself included. I need to have a little better priorities when it comes to dealing with people. The cleaning and reading, not such a big deal, but when it comes to not returning phone calls and emails, I need to smarten up and value people a little bie more. I don't always remember that sometimes the 5 minutes it takes to phone someone back or shoot them an email might strengthen a bond, or make someone's day, I know it makes mine. And if I can't see them that week due to other priorities, well then maybe next week. At least I'll have taken the time.

So here is my soemn plea, as much to myself as to others; Let's stop using busy as an excuse for our likes, dislikes, and other priorities. Call it what it is, and do it with love.
Ok Done now.

A Good Old Fashioned Bad Day

So you know when a day is already bad before it even starts, because of the way you feel, not because of any of the events, and you go to work hoping beyond hope that the events will help to improve your mood, but it's just not in the cards for you and everything goes wrong on top of your already slightly sour disposition? Yeah that's today.
I had a small freak out in the car yesterday over all the things that must be done before I move, and even more about all the people I want to see and the lack of weekends that I have available. I am so afraid that people are actually going to be MAD at me if I don't get a chance to do everything we have breifly discussed doing before I leave. And as much as I want to do all of this stuff, I have neither the money nor the drive to fit it all in. Don't get me wrong, I want to go for coffee, but a camping trip is probably out, and mostly I just want to go to sleep. I have an inkling that "d'ya wanna help me pack?" Is not going to be as fun as "West Edmonton Mall Waterpark".
I am training somebody at work who just can't seem to catch on. First of all patience is NOT my strong suit, but I have aquitted myself of that flaw admirably (at least the first four times that I repeat myself) however, even Mother Theresa would be ready to open a can of Whoopass on this girl. Her voice has no volume but loud, 90% of her questions I have already answered, she has taken all my work and is doing it wrong, and doesn't understand when I try to help her correct it. And now my boss wants to bring in another person for me to train, while I will be taking on a whole new job for a week while Lisa is away. This is not feasible, and I told him so, and he replied "That was a pretty lame-ass excuse" (I'm pretty sure he was joking...but still) So I turned my back and walked out of his office, biting back the tears that I know were not necessary.
I was talking to Amanda about difference kinds of worry, and some are blatant outright crisis forms where there's lots to talk about and decide. And others are silent forms, where you know you can't change anything, and you just have to plod ahead, but the churning of your stomach belies to calm of your exterior.
Well I'm putting my lack of calm out there, my fears of rejection from the friends that I love, my trials about work, and I hope to not be labelled a complainer or whiny or anything....oh wait....too late! ;-) Sorry for those who get that, cheap shot, but it was begging to be taken!

ARGH and it just keeps getting worse!!!! 3 hours...I can do 3 hours.

Thoughts On Drama

First of all, Big Thanks to all those who shared their secrets - made me feel like I was in good company. You are awesome. Feel free to keep sharing them!
I've been thinking about addictions of late. Not your well documented alcohol or cigarettes or any of the hardcore scariness. I've actually been considering the possibility of a drama addiction. Now by drama I don't mean prancing around in Robin Hood tights, crying for Juliet and craving the stage lights. I'm talking about life drama, trauma, bad circumstance, Lemony Snickett's Unfortunate Events.
Is it possible to be addicted to upheaval?
I know the typical definition of a drama queen (I should, I've been hosting the luncheons for years) these are people who turn mild crises into catastrophies by their attitude and actions alone. However I think there are people who sit on the other side of this coin. The drama addicts. People who have had so many negative circumstances that they become addicted to the hardship of their lives. It is a slippery slope. Do not get me wrong, these people are not the same as the compassion-mongers that search for things to complain about in order to receive sympathy from friends and family, this is worse. Drama addicts actually THRIVE on the hardships in their lives. They use their negative experiences as a rush, a fix, an event to be anticipated, a problem to live through. The drama becomes the driving principle behind their exsistance, and without it they are lost. I know I've wished before that I would break my arm just to shake up my routine, to face the challenge, to do things one-handed and see what would change in my life. The pain would be worth it to me in that circumstance. However, that is not what drives me to get up everyday. There is a fine line between wishing for these things and causing them to happen. Anybody ever thought about steering their car off the road just to see what would happen? I'm not talking about suicide, just the trauma of the accident that would be such a rush. The incident that would shake things up, get the adrenaline moving, cause others around to take notice. What would change? How would people react? How would you react? It opens up a plethera of questions that were non-existant without that one incident. The anarchy of that one moment changes everything. Hmmm....
I guess I have no actual point, just wondering if anybody else has ever thought about these things before.
Just to disclaimer, these thoughts don't come from any scary source, they are just thoughts, I don't want any Help-Line numbers, I'm just diving into the psyche, not falling off the edge - so don't worry.

My Radio Confessions

Ok, I'm doing my own personal post secret post - but I'm being brave because it's not annonymous. I have an addiction....to calling the radio. I listen to the morning show on the Bear. Each morning they bring up a topic for discussion and I am ADDICTED to calling and getting my opinion in there. This morning it was golf, so I phoned in and whined about the golf channel, earlier this week it was Guys Night Out...I just can't resist!! Not only that, but I call in and place my requests to three different stations at a time, and most of the time I don't even hear the songs being played!! There's just something that thrills me about calling and actually talking to the person that is broadcasting over the whole city. Call me dramatic or star-struck, but I love it. Maybe they need a Radio-phoner's Anonymous for me to join....I can hear it now...

"If you're going to dial, dial your sponsor, we'll talk to you about current events."

"Just buy the CD, there's no need to request, you'll just get hurt when they don't play your song!"

This past winter I called into the Bear and Derek and we actually got invited by the DJ to the studio, provided we brought him a Tim's on the way, so we went and he actually let us come into the studio and listen to him broadcast - it was such a neat experience!!! Just fed the fire.
Ok, so there's my dirty little secret. Catharsis complete. No need to judge me. Really. Now I want everyone to leave a secret as a comment just so I don't feel so bad. I shared, I need some retribution of the best kind here. Must...feel...sane...again....

Moving Trucks and Mythbusters

It's so intriguing to me that all the deep thoughts and philosophical musings in the world don't actually change the course of my life. I am moving in 6 weeks. I am packing up and leaving the only province that I have called my home for the past 16 years, and Kant's view on Metaphysics doesn't change that one bit.

The part of me that LOVES Vancouver is SO stoked! The part of me that is loyal to King Ralph (no scathing comments please) is really bummed, and the part (or ALL) of me that loves Derek is not looking forward to our separation. I know, I know, we have it easy comparitively. I'm not disputing that, I'm just sayin....

It just gets me, you know? All my friends, everything that we've set up, all that I've built will be 1200 km's away. Blogging will be the major form of my communication, which means I will probably have no friends soon enough, because I will offend them all with through the innadequacies of e-communication. *sigh* eveybody feel sorry for me! Just kidding.
You're probably all sick of hearing moving talk, but it's the major event at the front of my brain lately.

I don't have anything incredibly philosophical or smart to say today (do I ever?) except that Mythbusters is the funnest show on TV!!! I have become an overnight addict. Exploding Tattoo's, Velocity of frozen vs. thawed chickens, exploding tiolets, it hilarity meets paranoia at it's best. A nice change to the unending slough of decorating, trading spaces, homes, spouses, kidneys, Who wants to Marry a Millionaires great aunt CRAP that's been tainting the TV guide lately. And I don't even have CABLE!

Psuedo-Science to the rescue!

REacting

This whole topic of acting in love has been swirling around our little blog ring lately, and I must say it has caused me some serious thought over the past few days about RE-acting as well. I am a very reactive person, as those of you who know me are well aware. I tend to spit out the first few words that come into my mouth with semi-reckless abandon, only to painfully analyze them later and realize that my words could have been construed as very hurtful, if taken in a certain context. I have been blessed, fortunately, with friends who seldom take my words to heart in a critical fashion, and love me anyways, even when they do. However this new emphasis on REACTING has created a new pensiveness, resulting in a delayed response time, and it may be a good thing.

There have been a number of comments posted (albeit, not on my personal blog) that have evoked a powerful desire in me to respond quickly and abrasively, to back up a point, or a friend's point. And yet something has stopped me. Generally I try to write a short concise response to someone who gets my back up, to make them think about what they have said in a different context, with an ultimately higher perspective (sarcasm alert). Usually these short and concise responses are full of biting sarcasm, pious advice, or at the very least sharp meaning. This is what I've been battling against.

This revelation was a process of discovery. The thing that got the ball rolling was that, in a haze of biting sarcasm-y goodness I found myself unwilling to sign my name on the bottom of my witty literary masterpiece. That immediately caused a pang of uncertainty about the quality of said comment. Why would I be unwilling to take responsibility for this beautific response? Was it because I wanted my statement to be read by unbiaised eyes? (This would be the easiest thing to tell myself) No, something told me I wasn't 100% comfortable with what I was saying, or maybe how I was saying it. I realized that I wasn't ready to take the heat of the debate that had the potential to spring from my necessary point. I realized that I wasn't prepared to be hurt in the process of this potential conversation. I realized that I was not writing any of this with love at the front of my cerebrum, or my heart for that matter.

I know so far this sounds like a lot of emotional crap, but it really resonated with me that I had the power to start a volley of e-critisims, cleverly disguised as short concise responses, and I was afraid to use it.

In retrospect, though the motive behind my lack of comment was fear (of being held responsible, of being burned at the stake, of hurting someone) I was glad I didn't seize the opportunity and held my literary monster in check. When I stripped my comments to the bare bones, it was NOT a necessary perspective full of love, but an angry desire to prove someone wrong, spewed out of pure frustration at what I deemed to be unfair. How could I be so blind? How could I presume to understand the thread of our conversations on love when I was so eager to punch back? I would only be exacerbating the problem by doing that which angered me in the first place. Retaliation much? Smooth Rach.

I admit I have been agitated with blogging of late, as the intensity meter has skyrocketed, and I am waiting in dread for the day that a criticism shows up in comment form, coldly disguised as a short concise response to my ramblings, and I shall be reduced to tears over the unfairness of it all.... I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop this, as I have consented to share my thoughts in a public forum. However, I am deciding to try and comment with grace, and most importantly love, from now on. Aside from the occasional well timed e-joke (who can resist?) I will attempt to impliment the proverbial Golden Rule in my comments, and treat others with the respect and love that I crave in return. Good luck to me. I suppose I have my work cut out for me, attempting to tone down my literary genious (haha) but as a wise man always told me, "It's a tough job...but somebody's gotta do it!" Love you dad!

News... and a little Kant

My Mom and Dad left this morning and I feel tired and empty. Part of the tiredness was the busy weekend, long wedding, and lack of sleep, and part is thinking about the future. I have set a last day of August 12, tentatively. That means I have 6 more weeks left of work, and 8 weeks until I move. 8 weeks. Then Derek and I will be separated for a month or two while he stays to make some more money before joining me out at the coast. I am not looking forward to that. I have already decided that I will be getting a serving job and working like a mad woman for those weeks, hopefully making enough to pay my debts and get a place of my own before starting school. This just seems like such a monstrous task, and yet I have the time that I need to pack and prepare, I will have two solid weeks off work before I go, and my mom is coming back the last week of August to help me prepare and stay sane.

My dad left "A Generous Orthodoxy" for me to read, and I gave him my copy of "The Poisonwood Bible" for his birthday. I hadn't finished it yet, but I was on hiatus from it, so now I will just have to buy a new one and get back into it. I made the mistake of going into the philosophy section of Chapters on the weekend (I had no choice - I was picking out a gift for Derek) and began to drool all over all the pretty books. Fortunately no one caught me, so I didn't have to pay for all the drool covered books. I wanted to buy Keirkegard, Nietchze, Emerson, and so many more.... Even though whenever I read them, I feel like an idiot because I have to have my "Pocket Dictionary of Theological Terms" right by my side and even my crappy Webster's dictionary is put to hardcore use.

I was reading "Prologemma on the Future of Metaphysics" by Kant. I LOVE some of his ideas. I mean, I don't know what to think about them, but I love them. The idea that everything we know, all of our scientific theories and mathematical and physical facts that have been determined are only absolute under the parameters of what our minds can grasp, is such a fascinating concept to me. The way we measure time in minutes and seconds is a condition of our limited mental capacity and not necessarily the way that time actually passes. Some minutes are longer or shorter, but when limited by the necessity of our minds to quantify and measure our existence, they are actually all the same length of time. So which is more important? The actual feeling of how long each minute takes, experientially? Or the quantifiable 60 seconds that we know a minute "really" takes? Which takes precedence? It seems only when faced with crisis or exceptional circumstances can our mind move beside the physical parameters that we place upon our existence..... Ok now I'm rambling....Sorry.