True Character

“Character is doing the right then when nobody’s looking. There are too many people who think that the only thing that’s right is to get by, and the only thing that’s wrong is to get caught.” – J.C. Watts

Someone told me once that there’s always one; and by that she meant that one person who doesn’t quite fit in the office dynamics and causes chaos and drama wherever he or she sets foot. I have one. I’ve known her true nature for some time now: someone who takes jabs at you when her superiors aren’t looking and then smiles and laughs it off as if to say, Who cares what I just said?! Listen to my cute laugh. How could you possibly be angry? Not only the jabs, but not a very approachable person, either. If she has offended you, one cannot simply approach her to discuss the matter because her feelings are the only feelings that matter and f*ck you for ever thinking differently.  

As I’ve known this about her, I’ve vented once to my manager because I was on the verge of ripping her condescending head from her condescending throat. Lately the infection of her smugness and sense of self-righteousness has been spreading as she causes one more dramatic event after another. I was very frustrated at first because I’ve always been good at connecting with and understanding people. She has always been an enigma to me. However, I now see that the problem was never me to begin with and I’m simply watching the circus act unfold on the sidelines. I guess the moral of this story is don’t try pretend to be something you’re not because your true colors show eventually and there’s no way to get around that.

On the topic of people that confuse me, I’ve crossed paths with several lately. One is my landlord’s soon to be 14-year-old daughter. I wanted to do everything I could for her – but quite honestly I don’t know what I can do. The poor thing is a hot mess and I had no idea teenagers could be so . . . devious. I was never that way and I guess that’s why I don’t understand. I think sometimes you just have to throw your hands up and be done with it. My intentions were genuine and good, but I realized early on that nothing good would come from my befriending this young lady because she hasn’t been honest with me and has tried to take advantage of my good nature. You’re too young for this kind of behavior!!! That’s all I can say about it.

I think sometimes a person needs to recognize when there are toxic sources in their life and cut those people out. No, it’s not easy. Sometimes you’ve known these people for what seems like a lifetime and even though you care for them, their presence has done more harm than good.  Sometimes you desperately want to help them and see them thrive in life, but know deep down there’s nothing you can do. I had to dismiss someone from my life recently. Even though he had helped me in countless ways, ultimately his presence did more harm than good and once he was gone I slowly began to feel better and suddenly life felt easier, despite how stressful life feels from time to time.

"Toxic people will pollute everything around them. Don't hesitate. Fumigate." - Mandy Hale

I stumbled across an article recently that described ‘hipster’ food and I nearly panicked when I thought, Dear God! I’m slowly turning into one of them! Kale: check. Kombucha: check. Mason jars: check . . . . I could keep going, but I’m still in a state of denial. In my defense, I have never enjoyed PBR and think that anyone who actually likes is a hipster indeed and also a fan of camel piss - because that’s what it tastes like.

My transformation isn't fully complete because I'm not here yet. 

While in this state of denial I’ve also joined the cycling community of Portland – and by joining I mean that I’ve done it once so far. In fact, it was just yesterday. The ride in wasn’t too bad. It’s 11 miles one way because I live so much farther away from work now. I know that not many of the devoted commuters where I work do more than 5 miles round trip. Why? Because they obviously make more and can afford to live closer. So, 22 mile round trip on my first try. Crazy? You bet. It’s gets crazier. Things were going smoothly on my way back home until I got about half way there, and then all hell broke loose.

I thought I had a genius idea by using the navigation app on my phone with the bicycle setting because I haven’t explored Portland enough to really know what I’m doing and rely too heavily on my navigation smart phone app. The phone outsmarted me because the damn thing started freaking out just as I was getting to mid SE Portland. It had me going in circles and instructed me to cut through Mt. Tabor park before I turned it off and said I’m SO done with you, Smart Phone! I thought for sure I’d died and awoken to the worst form of hell because all I could think about was getting back to my hound because he was probably lonely and hungry.

I just wanted to get back to my Sweet Boy. 

After dragging my bicycle up a very steep path at Mt. Tabor Park, coming out the other side and finally stumbling across another human being I desperately asked them to please point me in the direction in which street numbers start getting bigger. I kept following that direction until I found a familiar rode and made it home. That trip should have taken me an hour – instead it took me three. So, what should have been a 22 mile round trip was an easy 40 wrought with steep hills and foot baths in a freaking nature park. Why? WHY have I never learned a sense of direction?! Irish Lass-0, Smartphone-1.

That seems to be the general attitude among the regular cyclists. I refuse to conform to smugness. Quit talking to me with your eyes closed! 

For the record, the Irish Lass is tenacious and I’ll be back at it again in no time. While I’d love to take a ride out this weekend with ample time to figure it out, I have too many commitments, again . . . . Big Surprise! It looks like there’s absolutely nothing next weekend, so I’m going to take one of those ‘I don’t care who you are or what you need’ stances I keep saying I’d like to do and do whatever the hell I want in my beautifully accumulated free time.

Actually . . . can I go here instead of biking? This would really be better for my health. 

I’m hoping I can handle tango tonight. I decided yoga was a good idea yesterday before I made a ride home that took me a million hours. I’m sore all over and have come to the conclusion that I have two very important requirements for a significant other: big hands to massage my shoulders and a hot tub. Of course, there are other requirements, but those two are now mandatory. 

REQUIRED!! In the meantime I have my muscle rub. 

A Tale of Two Men

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

I met someone through a series of events not so long ago. He lives in New Jersey. I was in the middle of personal turmoil from which I thought I’d never escape. He listened and he understood. We talked on a daily basis and he supported me through things I never thought I’d get over.  

I’ve discovered I have a threshold when it comes to chaotic, sad or dramatic events. While this may not seem like a lot to you, reader, I assure you that it felt like the weight of a thousand basset hounds while I trudged through it. Within about the span of a month, I broke up with my best friend, I was told that the position I had temporarily filled would be given to someone else, I learned that this guy that had been consistently flirting with me was actually married, my car broken down and needed major repairs, and then October hit – and I freaking hate October.

In my mind, this is what October looks like.

I’ll break these down a little for the sake of insight. My former best friend and I had been super close for most of our lives. Despite how much it hurt, I still miss her sometimes. The position I wanted was something that I was thrilled to be a part of, even for a short time. I wasn’t disappointed about being let go, only how they went about it. I was working through a temp agency and officially applied for the position. I was then told that they had narrowed it down to five applicants; I was included and was given the date and time for an interview. When I went upstairs at the allotted time, there was no interview, only my supervisor there to tell me that they wouldn’t be keeping me. Ouch.

The attractive fellow flirting with me hit a little close to home because I found out he was married and had to practically pull his teeth out to get him to admit it. This emotional affair was initiated by him. It stung a bit deeper because I was unknowingly someone’s mistress once before and I still struggle to comprehend why human beings continue to treat one another like garbage.

The new term started and I was wrapping up my time with the employer that was letting me go. Despite their unsavory actions, I made an extra effort to get everything up to speed for the person filling my position. I updated the manual. The one that existed when I arrived was outdated by about five years. In a company of this size, policies and procedures are constantly changing.I even made a nicely organized file with all of the forms, signatures and templates that would be needed at some point. When I stepped in, I had to hunt those down myself. 

I felt like doing this more often than not. 

Just as all of this was ending, Mr. New Jersey made plans to fly out to meet me in person. I can say with full honesty that he is perhaps one of the nicest, patient, and generous people I’ve ever known. Despite his nature, I was tense during his visit. Little trivial things he did really got under my skin. The way he talked to me at times irritated me – it was as if he were speaking to a 4 year old child.

We went for a hike with my dogs. He wanted to hold my hand and stop every five minutes to kiss me. Again, this irritated me. 

Please. Stop. Touching. Me.

I chalked it up to the series of events that coincided with New Jersey’s visit. However, it’s been a little over a month since that visit and I’ve done nothing but try to pinpoint how I really felt towards him. Soon after his return home he began plans for a December visit and there was a constant feeling of anxiety every time we talked about his next journey to the west coast.

He sent me anywhere between five and ten text or facebook messages a day. For every one I responded to, three more were sent to me. I turned this over in my mind and thought that if it were me behaving in this way I would be told that my actions weren’t healthy and borderline obsessive.

While school genuinely had me busy (who has that kind of time to respond to that amount of texts?!), I distanced myself from him to sort out what was really going on in my mind.

Finding a place of emotional solitude is quite difficult when social media is constantly nagging at you.

My conclusion came to this: we’re just not right for each other. I don’t mind PDA. In fact, I rather like locking lips with someone I deeply care for in a public display that says, Yeah, ladies. Isn’t he fabulous?! I love him so much that I couldn't resist him for a moment longer.”  

What I originally chalked up to a chaotic series of events was my psyche telling me, "STOP!" He's serious and he's intense. I wish I could care for him. I truly do. He is a good person. However,  there are other good people in this world, and these things can't be forced. When I finally made the much dreaded phone call, I told him as much. It all feels superficial and fake to me; and that's the truth.

I kept waiting for the perfect time to tell him. Mr. New Jersey was effected by Hurricane Sandy. I felt like I was a horrible human being for not being supportive of him while he was sorting things out. I didn't want to have this conversation at the end of one of my exhaustive days; I didn't want to interrupt his life dealing with his hurricane torn house, his work, his family . . .  Most of all, I didn't want to hurt him. I have learned that there is no 'perfect time' for anything.

True to his nature, he understood and thanked me for my honesty.

I’ve apologized profusely because I don’t think this was very fair to Mr. New Jersey. Everything was falling apart when I met him. I was vulnerable, sad, lonely and confused and said things that I shouldn’t have. For that, I’m sorry. I'm the type of person that really needs time and space to consider something before I know how I feel about it - and sometimes that takes a while. For that, Mr. New Jersey, I am sorry. 

If you’re still reading I will now tell you about my latest epiphany. There’s a story behind this one as well.

Several years ago I met someone in my voice lessons class. Over time I became quite fond of him and didn’t realize how deep that fondness ran until he completely disappeared. I was crushed; I really was. I was also confused and self blaming because I felt as if the events in my life drove him away.

We reconnected and met up last week. I cried when he hugged me. True story. You've been missed, Old Friend.

My heart jumped for joy at the sight of him. 

He spent Thanksgiving with my family. He’s not a Portland native and has no family here. I can’t remember the last time I felt so unequivocally happy; I was afraid I had forgotten the emotion. I was happy because he was back in my life and being with him is the most natural thing in the world. Then it hit me: This is it. What exists between him and me - this is what I’m looking for.

His embrace is the most reassuring thing I’ve felt in some time and I am comfortable enough to be myself instead of some self absorbed neurotic mess.When he held me, the chaos in my mind subsided long enough for me to feel a calming peace. I confess it was hard for me to let go.

Is there anything beyond friendship for us? I really don’t know. Regardless, I am grateful. Even if he disappears tomorrow - I'll have had that experience that granted me clarity, peace, warmth and the inner glow that I thought was long gone. For these things, I am grateful.

Thank you, Old Friend. Thank you for showing me that I can be myself. Thank you for pointing me in the right direction because I was lost for a while.

“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”  ~ Marcel Proust