Dating Douchebags- Why We're Ruining It For the Rest of Us

My roommate Whitney and I were talking recently about all the women we know who have been the unwitting victim of a douchebag guy.  Because…  There are a lot of them.  Like a really exorbitant number of them.  And many of them, herself and myself included, have had the unfortunate pleasure (please note sarcasm on the word pleasure) of being exposed to more than one.

You know the guy I am talking about.  He lets you blow every cent you earn on him while he pays for nothing.  He’ll tell you all of the amazing things about himself but never asks about you.  He accepts your fabulous birthday gift that you spent weeks putting together and half your paycheck on and maybe, if you’re lucky, he picks up something from the gas station when your birthday rolls around.  He’s never available when you want to do something but when he calls you out of the blue he expects you to rush right over.  He’s happy to sleep with you but tells you he’s just not ready for a relationship.  He’ll use your car, your connections, your tendency to do do do for others but when you need something…  It’s just not a good time for him.  Or sometimes, he’s just a complete and total epic liar.

The degree of douchebaggery changes, but the common thread is this:  You give, he takes. 

We know so many women that have encountered this kind of guy that we are beginning to wonder if this is the new normal.  As if it weren’t enough that in the sea of 7 billion people in the world that we are trying to weed out not just those with different interests and values, we now also have to worry about getting past those who are just complete assholes?

Some of you may be thinking right now, well sure.  That’s part of it.  You have to weed out those people too.  But I have to ask…  Why?  When did it become acceptable to have to encounter these kinds of people at all?  There are entire websites devoted to memes about the douchebag boyfriend…  How did this type of behavior become so prevalent that we can laugh at it rather than be mortified by it?

I can tell you where the blame for this lies. 

It’s your fault.

And it’s my fault.

We are all to blame.  Every single one of us who has ever encountered this dude.  And you all know who you are.  Because every woman I know who has encountered this guy has let him treat her in this way for far too long.  Because any time you let yourself be used is too much time.  And I’m not just talking about being used for your money or your physical possessions.  I’m talking about being used for your emotions, your love, your sex, your soul. 

We are all to blame because when this happens to us, instead of immediately putting our foot down and saying, “No.  I am better than this.  And you will treat me accordingly,” we spend countless hours trying to say the right thing, do the right thing, be prettier, smarter, sexier, wittier, whatever it is that we think will make him treat us the way we know we deserve to be treated.  But here’s the thing.  If he doesn’t start off treating you that way, he never will.  Because part of what you deserve is to be treated as you should be right off the bat.  So you see, if he doesn’t start there, he’ll never get there.  Never.  Ever. 

We teach people how to treat us.  And by immediately responding to someone’s poor imitation of attention we teach them that that poor excuse is good enough.  It’s not.  It’s not even close.  And what’s worse is that even when you finally realize that this douchebag is, in fact, a douchebag, you’ve already taught him that his behavior is acceptable enough and when the next poor unsuspecting one of us runs into him he starts all over again.  Because you told him it was ok.  For awhile at least, you told him it was ok.

It’s not.

Don’t you see?  We’re all ruining it for the rest of us.

 

I’m not here to tell you to love yourself, or be yourself, or even to be happy with yourself.  I don’t think the problem is your self esteem.  You have it.  I have it.  If we talked about it, you could probably admit that you’re pretty awesome.  Because you probably are.  You aren’t perfect but you’re not asking anybody else to be perfect either.  No I don’t think the problem is our self esteem.  I think it is our inherent belief that other people just can’t always see how awesome we are.

That douchebag guy?  He can see it.  He totally knows EXACTLY how awesome you are.  If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be trying to take advantage of it.  Because how many stories do you hear about douchebags taking advantage of girls who aren’t awesome?  Right.  None.

He knows how awesome you are.  And he is treating you like that anyway.  Because he can.  Because you taught him that he could.  Because the awesome girl before you taught him that he could.  And the girl after you will teach him that too.

 

Let me ask you this.  When a toddler throws a tantrum because he wants a cookie and you give him a cookie what does he learn?  Throw a tantrum, get a cookie.  If he throws a tantrum and you don’t give him that cookie what happens?  He might try this a few more times, but eventually he will learn that you don’t get a cookie by throwing a tantrum.  Bad behavior is not rewarded.

 

Bad behavior is not rewarded.

 

Bad behavior is not rewarded.

 

Ladies, I am begging you, stop rewarding bad behavior.  Can you imagine if every woman you knew put her foot down and opted not to let herself be treated poorly anymore?  My god, the revolution that would occur when men realized the only way to get a woman into bed was to treat her with respect and dignity and integrity and admiration…

 

I know this is easier said than done, but for the love of god, when some guy doesn’t treat you with the respect you deserve, high tail it out of there.  If he is worth your time, really really worth your time, he will quickly change his actions.  He will change them, you won’t change them for him.  That’s not how it works.  You will never be pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, sexy enough, anything enough.  Because you already are all those things, and he knows it.  And if that’s not enough to make him want to make you feel like he knows you are all of those things then why the hell would you waste another second of your time with him?

 

There are still good men out there.  I am convinced of it.  I know some of them.  I know men who, although they are just friends, make me feel like I’m a million bucks.  They tell me I am beautiful and smart and funny and talented and worth being treated like I am all of those things.  They tell me these things because they are true.  They do not tell me I am perfect.   I’m not.   But they tell me, by the way they treat me, that I am awesome.  I bet right now you are thinking of your guy friends who do the same for you…  Shouldn’t anyone that you are considering sleeping with make you feel just as good, if not better, than the guys you aren’t considering sleeping with?  I mean…  I’m just sayin’.

 

So I am asking you, all my single lady friends, to make a pact.  Let’s stop ruining it for the rest of us.  Let’s stop allowing ourselves to be treated as less than we are.  Let’s opt to walk away from anyone who makes us work to hard to be loved and appreciated.  Let’s leave the douchebags to each other until they figure out that being a douchebag just isn’t going to cut it anymore.  Because we know that they know how awesome we are.  And we aren’t going to let them pretend otherwise for one more minute.

 

How Blue Is Your Sky?

Having a nice little bout of insomnia this evening I took to one of my favorite insomniac past times- reading some of my old writing.

 

I was perusing a blog I used to keep on MySpace (I know…  MySpace), and came across an entry I made the day the Virginia Tech shootings happened.  This was how it started:

 

“The sky in Orlando today was that vibrant shade of blue that only exists in paintings. A blue so pure, so deep without being dark, that if you hadn't seen them before you wouldn't believe that clouds existed. The temperature dropped again too and so we're left with this beautiful day and a high of only 70 degrees. Breezy. Light. Breathable.”

 

I went on to talk about how this beautiful day was marred by what had happened.  A gunman killing at least 30 people.  At least 30 people.  We didn’t know yet how many.  We didn’t know that it would, more than 5 years later, remain the worst school shooting in American history.

 

I ended the entry with:

 

“I don't know. I wonder what their sky looked like today. I wonder if the sun was out and any of them decided to skip classes for the first nice day in a few weeks... Or if leftover rain from the storm lingered and so they thought, why get out of bed? And I wonder if the air will ever feel breathable to them again.”

 

A lot of you who know my writing also know that I wrote a piece about 9-11 for the stage that started with lines describing my own personal experience that day, and how I woke up looking at the sky and how blue it seemed…  “Like…  Electric blue.”

 

I remember the day, my freshman year of college, when we heard about Columbine.  The first of the tragedies of that nature to come.  We stood outside, in front of the theatre building, talking about how glad we all were to not be in a high school at that moment.  It was April.  And the sky was blue.  So blue that the clouds seemed almost neon in their contrast.  I remember thinking that, on the news, it looked like a pretty day in Colorado too.

 

A few weeks ago when a boy, a man I suppose, but a boy none-the-less, walked into an elementary school and killed 26 people, 20 of them small children, tiny children, I distinctly recall thinking, before I heard the news, what a beautiful day it was.  I know because I was sitting near a window in a restaurant where I could see a TV over the bar and I recall thinking what a strange sensation it was to be between the reality of beauty outside the window and the reality of horror on the television.

 

Strange, how beautiful it seems the day is each time the world spins out of control.  Never when it is dark and dreary, always when it is so beautiful it almost seems like a dream.

 

Maybe I am the only one who notices.

 

Maybe I am the only one who is supposed to.

 

I am always so profoundly affected by things like this.  My empathetic nature means I feel other people’s pain so deeply, to my core.  I can’t train my brain to stay out of the head of the people I have never and will never meet, feeling their fear, their sorrow.

 

Always on an exceptionally beautiful day.

 

The kind of day when everyone you bump into outside can’t help but say, “Man it’s such a nice day today!” As though we have to reaffirm that what we’re seeing is real.

 

In my memory, it was always the day I noticed first, not the heartache.  But now that I see the pattern, I have to wonder if it isn’t, in reality, the other way around.

 

At first I had hoped that my memory wasn’t tricking me and that the order I remembered it was the order in which it happened.

 

But then I thought, maybe…  Maybe I don’t hope that.  Maybe I hope that when something so senseless, so frightening, so heartbreaking occurs I can’t help but lift my eyes to the universe, God, mother nature, whatever you call it, and subconsciously say, “Please.  Please give me a sign that there is light and love and beauty and warmth and such natural magnificence in the world that I can believe there is more of all of those things than the other things creeping into this reality.  Please show me that if I am to be between these two realities that it is that beautiful, warm, inviting, blue sky that envelopes me in moments of sadness and chaos and not the dark, cold turmoil that violence brings.  Please show me that the tranquility I feel in those brief moments when I realize just how pretty the world is, is truly what the universe is meant to be.”

 

And in those moments, when it knows I need it most, the universe always answers back with an electric blue sky, piercingly clear air, and a warm sun to fill the void.  Usually a little breeze too, the kind that makes you close your eyes and take a slow, deep breath.

 

That must be it.  I don’t know that I can choose to believe my own memories over the possibility that the whole universe is reaching back to me when I stretch out my arms to it.  I think I choose to believe the memories are changed so that when I think back and feel the pang that comes with tragedy, it is quickly washed away in my minds eye by that terrific expanse of blue.  The world is just too beautiful for anything else to be true.

A New Day

"Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page. Take up one hole more in the buckle if necessary, or let down one, according to circumstances; but on the first of January let every man gird himself once more, with his face to the front, and take no interest in the things that were and are past."

-Henry Ward Beecher

2012- A Love Letter

Dear 2012-

We’ve had a good run.  Started off with a bang, stayed strong and steadfast for many months, and only began to question each other a bit in these last few months.  Such is the story of most of my relationships.

 

And much like those, we too now must say goodbye.  Not because it wasn’t good.  But because that’s just the way things go I suppose.  So know this is not a lament for the end but a love letter for everything you were.

 

Over the last year I have been given so many opportunities.  All of my major events were successful, and even when incredibly difficult my teams came together to make it happen.  Because that’s what you do when you do what you love.  I have never felt more sure of my skills than I did this year.  And I am not one to be sure of much. 

 

I watched friends cross the finish lines of marathons that I helped to make happen. 

 

I saw children fight Darth Vader and hundred of people meet their idols.  I became friends with some of those idols. 

 

I helped a movie premiere. 

 

I stood with nearly 100 Stormtroopers on Main Street USA. 

 

I got to go on my first ever cruise.  No, I got PAID to go on my first ever cruise and there I met two legendary Disney artists and a Hollywood producer who told me to call him if I ever get to LA. 

 

I helped cut ribbons and at one of those ribbon cuttings I, among other things, called the cues for OneRepublic to begin.

But my proudest professional moment was stage managing an event for the First Lady.  I worked side by side with people from the White House, and got to meet Michelle Obama.  And she was every bit as lovely as I had hoped.  I have never been more nervous to fail in my life.  And I didn’t.  And now, all events are judged by the level of pressure I felt then.  “Hey…  It’s not like it’s the first lady.”  ;)

 

And most importantly I felt I proved myself.  I was put onto a bench for a promotion and can say I feel that I earned it through blood, sweat, and tears.  Literal blood, sweat, and tears.  Not to mention 24 hour shifts, sleepless nights, frustrations, and some damn hard work.  I can’t wait for the chance to move forward.

I wrote two shows this year that made their way to the stage.  Both of which were incredibly difficult.  Both of which I am extremely proud.  The first consisted of monologues from people in the theatre.  My love letter to the theatre I called it.  And it was.  The other took one of my favorite subjects, Alice in Wonderland, and twisted into something new.  I have never been more nervous for a concept to fail.  I have never been more proud that it didn’t.  There were parts of that show that were transformative for me.  And while, for now, I need a little break from it, I know I will come back to it some day. 

 

I started this blog, decidedly uncensored and without rules.  Just the way I like it.

I celebrated Disney buying Lucas films.  This means nothing to many of you, but much to me.

 

I was invited by someone from the White House to a presidential rally and then watched my president win the election.

 

I gained a roommate but more so a confidante, a friend, a sister.  My life is better with Whitney in it.  Everyone’s life is better with Whitney in it.

 

The Corletts came to visit me, Diane came to visit me, Jackie came to visit me, Thea came to visit me, Eric came to visit me, Anthony came to visit me, Justin came to visit me.  So much love.  So much fun.

 

I became closer to many of the friends I already had but most of all with Aron who I love and adore.

 

My friend Rob, my partner in creative crime, married the love of his life, a beautiful wonderful woman whom I adore.

 

I spent countless lunches with Larry who might be the best listener on earth.

 

I got to see Danielle and Shane in their native Detroit.

 

I saw my favorite band, Blues Traveler, not one, not two, but three times.  And one of those times was when my sister, a single mother with not much to spare, saved her money to surprise me with a trip to Boston for my birthday. And then another surprise with backstage passes.  It was magical.  Not just because of the music and the excitement of being backstage, but more so for the time spent with my sister, time making up for the 10 years we lost.  I was and am humbled.

 

It was not all perfect.  It was not always easy.  And sometimes it was decidedly very very hard.  But in those moments I never felt alone and when I reached out to anyone they were always there.  The Corlett family was at the end of one of those reaches and as they always do they reached back with an open hand that shot right out of their heart without expectation or judgment.  And I was reminded again how lucky I am to have them in my life.

 

I resigned from an organization that I love because while it pains me still, I know it was the right thing for me.

 

An old love came back into my life which was good.  And then after a time went out again.  Which was also good.  Because this time he went out on my terms because I know what I need and that he is not it.

 

My heart was broken.  But it mends well.

 

I watched a friend come much to close to the edge of death.  For weeks I watched.  But then I watched her pull herself back over the edge.  And not only did she regain her life, I gained a family.  And somehow I knew the whole time that you wouldn’t take her from us. 

 

I had dark times, but I never, ever lost sight of the light.

And I was once again reminded that of all the things I have chosen in my life, my friends have been the best of my decisions.  I have very high standards of friendship, I know that.  But though they are high they are not unreasonable and the people I allow to get close to me never fail to be even better than I ask them to be.  They love me unconditionally, appreciate my sarcasm, support me when I cannot walk on my own, encourage me when I don’t believe in myself, understand that while I can appear to be a bitch sometimes there is (as my sister put it just today) a “mush pot of love underneath”, remind me that I am needed, hold my hand when I am afraid, listen patiently when I rant, are not frightened by my passion, and never ever let me feel crazy alone.  Of all the things you gave me, 2012, the understanding of just how damn lucky I am for this and this alone is the best thing.  Thank you for that.  Thank you.

I may have forgotten a few details; you were so very good to me.  And for anything I have forgotten I am sorry.  It is not because I don’t appreciate but because the abundance was more than any one person deserves.

 

I’ve heard many friends say how happy they are for this year to end.  I know the feeling.  Last year at this time as 2011 drew to a close I could not wait to flip my calendar and start trying to remember to write a 2 instead of 1 on the date.  I was DONE with your predecessor.  It had not been kind to me.  And so you were a welcome change.  This time is different.  2013 has already called ahead to let me know that it’s going to be a bit more difficult than you were.  I’m taking a deep breath and preparing, and trying to remember that so many difficult things in my life that I did not look forward to ended up being exactly what I needed.

 

And so that is probably it then, huh?  2012 was the year of receiving the things I didn’t even know I wanted.  I suppose 2013 may be the year to receive the things I didn’t even know I needed.  That’s harder on the front end (especially for a self proclaimed control freak like me)…  But usually ends up being better for you when it’s done.  I’ll take it.  I won’t always like it.  But I will take it. 

 

But just in case, my dear 2012, if you would be so kind as to phone ahead and let 2013 know to go easy on me, I sure would appreciate it.  Think of it as your one last act of goodwill.  And in return I shall remember you favorably and sing your praises.

 

Love always,

Me

Self Preservation Scrooge

I hate Christmas.

 

I mean I love it.  But I hate it.

 

I love the lights and the ornaments and ribbon.

 

I love Santa and magic and heart.

 

I love the spirit of giving and people walking around smiling at each other and generosity.

 

I love White Christmas and Miracle on 34^th Street (the original only please), The Year Without a Santa Claus, and Love Actually.  And I love the movie It’s A Wonderful Life with such affection it is as though it were a person.

 

Sweaters and snow and sleigh bells and Christmas music and Christmas trees.

 

I love those things.

 

But

 

I hate never having enough money to buy presents for all the people I want to.  And trying to get so much done into just a few weeks be it wrapping presents or sending cards or going around doing the holiday stuff that you can only see this time of year.

 

I hate when people you had no intention of giving a card give you a card and then you have to stress over whether you will look like an asshole if you don’t now give them one in return.

 

I hate those damn white skeleton reindeer light up lawn ornaments that move just slightly…  People…  They are creepy.  Not pretty.  Creepy.

 

I hate feeling like a jerk when I finally have to start saying that no, I would not like to donate $3 to whatever charity the store I am at is supporting because I’ve already given $3 twenty times.  They don’t know I’ve already given and given and given.  And I just look like a cheap bastard.

 

I always send presents late, if I remember to send them at all.

 

I hate the time and commitment it takes to decorate your living room, your lawn, your office, your tree.  You ought to be able to just wake up and find it all done for you.  It’s a freakin magical time of year after all.

 

I hate the disappointment that comes when you tell yourself that this year it will be better and it’s not.  Of course, that’s probably just my Christmas experience, not yours. 

 

There was a time in my family where every Christmas was worse than the last.  Major drama.  Major issues.  Major disappointments.  To be clear: Christmas sucked.  It’s leveled off, but remains a time of year when I feel the need to constantly be on guard for the Christmas curse.  And yes, that is what we called it.  The Christmas curse…  Being that we felt it necessary to name it, you might appreciate how it can be a little difficult.

 

If you are lucky enough, as most people are, to not have a Christmas curse then Christmas is a wonderful time of year if you have at least one of three things- a significant other, a close family, or money.

 

I have none of these.

 

While everybody says it’s not the presents that matter, we all know that to most people that’s a damn lie.  And we all know how good it makes us feel to give someone something that you know they want or that you know they will love.  It’s not that we are expecting extravagant things.  It’s not that we want to buy extravagant things for others.    But if you don’t have money it makes every possible gift an agonizing choice.  Even the little that you can do becomes a burden to figure out that you can do.  And then someone you weren’t expecting to give you a present gives you one and you’d like to give them one in return but you weren’t planning on it and so you’re whole budget goes out of whack if you reciprocate.

 

No significant other.  I’m not whining about it.  It’s just the way it is.  And all this lovey dovey crap is always better when you have someone to be lovey dovey with.  Nuff said.

 

And close family.  I love my family.  But there are few of them, they are spread out, and they don’t all get along with each other.  So I spend holidays trying to be careful about what I say to each to not make them sad or angry or uncomfortable.  And in the process it makes me a little sad and angry and uncomfortable sometimes.  I feel bad for each side.  And I feel bad that there are sides at all.  It’s a lonely feeling to be stuck in the middle.  It’s probably lonely on the sides to.  But in the middle you get to see what everybody is missing and if you are like me, someone who feels deeply and hurts for others, it breaks your heart. 

 

There are people in my family that I don’t speak to anymore because of disappointments of the past.  And while I know that my life is actually better without them in it, it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss a time when things were different.  Especially at Christmas.

 

And there are people in my family who have just been out of my life for a long time.  People I would welcome back in a heartbeat but who, for their own reasons, can’t be welcomed back right now.

 

We have few traditions, nothing passed on from earlier generations, no rituals to look forward to and bind us together.  A family is defined in part by those things.  How are you defined when you have no definitions?

 

On many holidays, but especially on Christmas, I see the facebook posts from friends describing the wonderful, relaxing, perfect day they had.  No literally many of them call the day perfect.  And I don’t begrudge them their perfect day.  I think it’s wonderful.  I’d like a little bit of that wonderful.  Just a little bit.  Just once in awhile.  I’d like to look forward to Christmas day, instead of feeling that familiar mix of dread and pre-disappointment. 

 

I don’t want to hate Christmas.  Really I don’t.  Because I love it at the same time (and isn’t it true that there is no worse feeling than not being able to help hating something you want very very badly to love).  Maybe someday I will get that chance.  This was not the year for that kind of change.  I have lots and lots of magic in my life.  Just never at the most magical time of year for all the rest of you.

 

So…  When I bah humbug a little too loudly for your taste.  Maybe cut me a little bit of slack.  I want to be merry and bright.  But I’m just not good at faking it.

In Defense of Mistakes To Grammar Nazis Everywhere

For the record- I am an intelligent, educated person.  I have a BA in theatre and minored in writing in undergrad.  I have a Masters of Science in Interdisciplinary Arts Education.  I am a thesis away from my MFA in Creative Writing with a double emphasis in Playwriting and Creative Non-Fiction.

 

I don’t tell you all of this to brag.

 

I tell you all of this to show that I’m not an idiot.

 

This is important to know because what I am about to tell you may lead you to believe otherwise.

 

I am an anti-grammar Nazi. 

 

I can hear the gasps echoing through the universe from my intelligent, educated friends.  These are people who feel physical pain when someone incorrectly uses your instead of you’re, to instead of too.  It wounds their soul to see the English language used incorrectly.

 

I should be one of those people.

 

I am not.

 

In fact if it weren’t for the internet I’m not even sure I would be so aware of the issue. 

 

I will admit that I notice it sometimes.  But I don’t think less of the perpetrator of such a crime. 

 

I just sort of don’t care.

 

And I admit- I am often the perpetrator.

 

(Somewhere my favorite high school English teacher just passed out.)

 

Your

You’re

 

To

Too

 

They’re

Their

 

Its

It’s

 

These are just a few of the things I commonly mix up.  Not because I don’t know the difference.  I do.

 

There are two reasons I do it.  First, I have believed for many years that I have a very mild (and yes, self diagnosed) form of dyslexia.  If you ever chat with me online you have probably noticed that it is not unusual for me to swap letters, particularly vowels.  I usually catch it almost immediately.  But in order to not do it I have to be concentrating.  This has been true all my life, ever since I could write I swapped letters around.  Even in handwritten notes I catch it quickly.  So I suppose it is more like my hands are dyslexic but my brain is not.  Like I have retrained my brain to make sure my eyes see the difference most of the time, but it hasn’t quite relayed the message to my hands.  When I was a kid I can recall making a very conscious decision that this would not deter me.  And I wouldn’t let anyone know.  Back then if you had a learning disability you were branded stupid, at least in my little town.  I didn’t want to be stupid.  And I didn’t want anyone to have any more reason than they already had to make fun of me.  So I kept it a secret.  I still mostly keep it a secret.  (Until now I suppose.)  Because I’ve learned to get around it.  I’ve earned advanced degrees.  And have found ways to hide it.  Except in these commonly mistaken words to which I pay little attention.  They are my tell in the English poker face I worked so hard to develop. 

 

The second reason?  I just don’t care.  (CHOKE*GASP*WHEEZE* went the educated among us.)  I just don’t.  I am a writer.  Yes.  And I love the English language.  Yes.  But you know what?  I just don’t care about words like to and too, they’re and their.  Particularly in my informal communication, texts and facebook, even this blog.  These are meant to be cursory thoughts, fleeting moments of observation, genuine and spontaneous expressions of joy, love, pain, aggravation, fear, insert emotion here.  I spell words incorrectly, use punctuation incorrectly, and often, very very often, end my sentences with a preposition.  For those of you who grammar rules come easy to you may be able to be impulsively perfect.  I cannot.  Add to this, these words seem so arbitrary to me, clouding my sentences because they have to be there for the words that matter.  There are so many other words that need my attention, scream for it even.  There are choices to be made between beautiful, exquisite, and gorgeous.  Decisions as to whether frightening, terrifying, or just plain scary is the word that fits.  Is my character sad, gloomy, or miserable?  Am I happy, elated, or ecstatic?  The other words in my sentence are like underwear, necessary to support but not meant to be seen (unless you are stripping down the sentence and really looking).  I put them in and then cover them up.

 

It is simply a matter of priorities.  Neither better nor worse, just different. 

 

So my Grammar Nazi friends, you are correct.  You will always be correct.  We grammar criminals concede that you are and will always be correct.  And we may even concede that in this way you may be a bit more intelligent than the rest of us.  And by all means, if I am writing something professional or I ask you to read something, correct away!

 

But I bet there are some things that other people find to be simple, big fat “duh’s” that you find difficult.

 

Parallel parking.

 

Cooking.

 

Memorization.

 

Math.

 

Telling a joke.

 

Singing.

 

Sudoku.

 

Cross Word Puzzles.

 

Sports.

 

 

Do I need to go on?

 

So the next time you see one of us do something that offends the Grammar Nazi inside of you maybe cut us just a teeny bit of slack.  We’re not stupid.  We just don’t see the same things you do.

30 Thankful Thoughts

Over the past month I have seen people posting on Facebook their month of thanks, stating something they are thankful for each and every day.

 

I tried this once.  I think I stopped after day 5.  There are few things I am so committed to that I can remember to do them each and every day.  Brushing my teeth.  Having a cup of coffee.

 

Yep.  That’s about it.

 

Plus there are days when you’re aggravated and people are annoying you and the frustration prevents you from being Suzy Sunshine.

 

And then of course, there are the days when things really are rough.  When it’s hard to be grateful, for anything. 

 

And you know what?  That’s ok.

 

Maybe I can’t remember to post why I am grateful everyday.  But I do think it.  All the time.

 

So on this Thanksgiving I will do what I do best…  Shove all the work I have procrastinated for the past month into a few minutes.

 

My 30 Thankful Thoughts (In No Particular Order)

 

1)

I am thankful for my heart.  This, mind you, is not some reference to my love or generosity or kindness.  I’m talking about the actual muscle that is my heart.  It’s over now so I feel comfortable talking about it, but a few months ago I had a bit of a scare.  While sitting at my desk one day my heart began to pound.  Out of the blue.  And I felt like someone was pushing on my back.  Scared. The. Shit. Out. Of. Me.  My father was 38 when he died from heart issues.  I am 32.  The math is not good.  It frightened me right into a cardiologist’s office.  I did tests, wore a heart monitor, and generally freaked out for about 4 weeks.  All while telling 2 maybe 3 people because I didn’t want anyone else to freak out with me.  Not until there was something to freak out about.

 

Turns out there was nothing to freak out about.  I’m fine.  My heart is fine. It’s better than fine.  It is surprisingly healthy and strong and in very good shape according to the Doc.  Whatever that heart pounding moment was, it was a fluke.  And I am very very grateful.

 

2)

I am thankful for my job.  Anyone who knows me knows this is true.  I am one of the lucky ones, working doing exactly what I love. 

 

3)

I am thankful for my friends.  I am so so fortunate to have the people in my life that I do.  I have high standards for the people I let, intentionally, into my life.  I am lucky to be surrounded by people who not only meet those standards but exceed them on a daily basis. 

 

4)

I am thankful for my family.  Usually when people say this they have very close, usually large extended families.  This is not my life.  So I am thankful in a different way.  Because I know what it means to not have family in your life.  So those who remain are precious to me.

 

5)

I am thankful for the fact that I suffer from the problem of clutter.  It means I have abundance, more than I need.  As difficult as things may be sometimes, I know that relatively speaking my problems are small.

 

6)

I am thankful for Facebook.  I know this will sound trite to some, but I mean this as sincerely as I mean anything else.  I am terrible about keeping in touch with people.  Facebook keeps me connected.  It keeps me informed about their lives and makes me feel like they are a part of mine. 

 

7)

I am thankful for my roommates.  I tell people all the time I have the best husband and wife in the world.  They’re kind of awesome.  And I have lived in some not awesome situations.  I am lucky.

 

8)

I am thankful for my ability to know when I have reached my limits.  And know when to reach out for help.

 

9)

I am thankful for my education.  Even if it is something I will be paying for for a long long time.

 

10)

I am thankful for technology like my cell phone, my blackberry, my IPod, when I get the privilege of using one, Ipads.  Without these things I would feel so disconnected and for someone like me who is, surprisingly, in many ways an introvert, these things force me to stay connected when it would be easier to retreat.

 

11)

I am thankful for books, the fact that I was encouraged all my life to read them, and that I love them still.

 

12)

I am thankful that I have food on my table (usually cooked by one of my awesome roommates) and clothes on my back.

 

13)

I am thankful that I have not had it easy.  Ask me another day and I may change my tune.  But for the most part I know that the things I have experienced have made me into the person I am, strong and capable and self aware.  If life had been smooth I would have had no reason to fight.  And fighting made me resilient.

 

14)

I am thankful for the really pretty amazing year I have had.  This alone is worthy of its own blog post, there have been too many amazing things to list.  Things like meeting the First Lady.  Things like seeing my favorite band 3 times, and being backstage at one of those concerts.  Things like a surprise trip to Boston for my birthday.  I am so very very lucky.

 

15)

I am thankful that President Obama was reelected.

 

16)

I am thankful that I still believe that people are mostly good at heart.

 

17) 

I am thankful for living in a beautiful place, minutes from destinations that some people save their whole lives to get to.

 

18)

I am thankful for music and art and literature and film.

 

19)

I am thankful for my ability to write.  Without it I’m pretty sure I would lose my mind.

 

20)

I am thankful for better living through chemistry.

 

21)

I am thankful for Tavern nights.

 

22)

I am thankful to have the kind of friends who want to come over on a Saturday night, hang out in their pajamas, watch SNL, and eat pizza.

 

23)

I am thankful that although she is not yet home, Nishi is alive and awake and aware and getting better and stronger everyday.  And I am thankful that I have become ever closer to her wonderful family.

 

24)

I am thankful to live in a country where I am free.  Free to live as I wish and free to disagree, openly, with anyone I please.  Sometimes including my government.

 

25)

I am thankful for Starbucks.  Really just caffeine in general.

 

26)

I am thankful to finally have the courage to say that there are things I am good at.

 

27)

I am thankful for my ability to find humor in the most unlikely places.

 

28)

I am thankful that I know this is not how the story has to end.

 

29)

I am thankful for hope.

 

30)

Above all, I am thankful that I love too fiercely, work too hard, laugh too loud, cry too easily,  expect too much, trust too readily, give too freely, sleep too little, and believe to freely.  These are my worst faults and my greatest strengths.  They are me.  And I am grateful to be myself.