First, the world tells us - without a plan, you have no hope. "An idea without a plan, is just a dream". You better have a plan.
Then the world tells us: it's okay if everything doesn't go according to plan, you might end up in a better place.
SOOOOOO
Which is it? Am I supposed to plan? (as I really I am a planner) Or plan, then not really care if I get the end results?
Once again, which is it?
I could list a million quotes:
Something about the only failure is the failure to plan. Am I planning to succeed or am I planning to not care if my plans go off the deep end.
Society tells us to plan our lives. Then they tell us to live your own path. Fight the fight.
Be different. Be the same.
Vote my way.
Once again: Yes, plan. Plan for emergencies.
Plan for vacations.
Plan for vacations that count as emergencies.
Plan to get your heart broke
Plan:
for failures
successes
adventures
for staying at home
to live without the one whom woke you up in life
to be bored
to be sad
to be happy
for some of these things to happen all in one weekend. Or maybe one day.
The highs.
The lows.
To give up
Or not.
Don't ever let anyone else tell you whom you are going to be. Or your life is going to turn out a certain way.
Plan to find yourself.
Just remember, whom you've been all along.
The road to hell is led with good intentions.
Just remember who you've been all along.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Monday, October 27, 2014
Predicting the future
Psychics. Fortune tellers.
What comes to mind when you hear these words?
Fake? Day dream believers? Seller of hopes? Not real.
It's funny. When I hear these words. MOST OF THE TIME. I think: "misunderstood".
We all receive those "thoughts" or "foreshadowing" or "pings" in our lives. Little things that go unnoticed. Until much later. Then we look back and think "Oh, yeah, I've been thinking about those things for years."
Do I believe I can tell you those "little things" about your life? No. Not a chance. Can someone else tell you those things about your life? Maybe. Can you look back at your life and "SEE" what was coming. ABSOLUTELY.
Without a doubt.
We just don't listen. The world tells us things all the time. We hear them. The first time. The hundredth time.
My favorite future prediction story has to do with my youngest son:
I always knew I was going to have a Nolan.
This from the woman whom wasn't sure she was going to have kids. I knew I was going to have a Nolan though.
My mom had baby-sat for a family when she was growing up. The ages all begin to blend at some point in life. As my mom is only 19 years younger than her mom. The other parents were only a few years younger than my grand-parents. We all grew up together.
The third child of the family my mom baby sat, well, I think he's only 5 or 6 years older than me. I'm not sure.
What I do know: we were at their house in Tulsa, OK. I couldn't have been more than 5. AT THE OLDEST.
But, I remember the conversation very clearly:
We were discussing our friends (my mom and I). We were talking about names. Going through everyone's names. (No, I don't know why). And we get to the third child. His name is Brian Nolan B.
I remember rolling over on to my stomach. I remember saying "what did you say his middle name was?" "Nolan". Very distinctly I remember replying "Nolan" "That's a different kind of name".
She explained to me he was named after a business partner of his dad's. I couldn't have been more than five.
I'm not sure when I began to remember the story. I married a guy with a Scottish/Irish background. We wanted their names to "go with" their last name".
When I was pregnant with my second son - we didn't know if he was going to be a boy or girl. This drove the world crazy. "How can you not know??" My reply, "I have the rest of my life to know."
There are so few "good surprises" in life. You know, the surprises that take your breath away. That let you breathe the way life told you all along you were going to breathe this way.
About the time my labor started, the priest from the church called and asked if we he was here yet. .
I remember telling him, "I know you aren't going to believe this, but my contractions started about an hour ago. Although we still aren't sure if he is a boy or a girl.".
Nolan's dad didn't even know at this point. The priest asked if he could call the hospital tomorrow to check on us. Of course, I replied.
We are in the Labor and Delivery room at Rose Hospital in Denver, CO. It's the final moments. My doctor - whom was about my age - looked around the room. She said "SO, is it a boy or a girl?"
Nurse: Girl. Dad: I have no idea. Me: He's a boy. His name is Nolan.
He was born a few minutes later. I forgot to ask if he was a boy or a girl.
I guess they aren't really surprises. Just listen people. Just listen.
What comes to mind when you hear these words?
Fake? Day dream believers? Seller of hopes? Not real.
It's funny. When I hear these words. MOST OF THE TIME. I think: "misunderstood".
We all receive those "thoughts" or "foreshadowing" or "pings" in our lives. Little things that go unnoticed. Until much later. Then we look back and think "Oh, yeah, I've been thinking about those things for years."
Do I believe I can tell you those "little things" about your life? No. Not a chance. Can someone else tell you those things about your life? Maybe. Can you look back at your life and "SEE" what was coming. ABSOLUTELY.
Without a doubt.
We just don't listen. The world tells us things all the time. We hear them. The first time. The hundredth time.
My favorite future prediction story has to do with my youngest son:
I always knew I was going to have a Nolan.
This from the woman whom wasn't sure she was going to have kids. I knew I was going to have a Nolan though.
My mom had baby-sat for a family when she was growing up. The ages all begin to blend at some point in life. As my mom is only 19 years younger than her mom. The other parents were only a few years younger than my grand-parents. We all grew up together.
The third child of the family my mom baby sat, well, I think he's only 5 or 6 years older than me. I'm not sure.
What I do know: we were at their house in Tulsa, OK. I couldn't have been more than 5. AT THE OLDEST.
But, I remember the conversation very clearly:
We were discussing our friends (my mom and I). We were talking about names. Going through everyone's names. (No, I don't know why). And we get to the third child. His name is Brian Nolan B.
I remember rolling over on to my stomach. I remember saying "what did you say his middle name was?" "Nolan". Very distinctly I remember replying "Nolan" "That's a different kind of name".
She explained to me he was named after a business partner of his dad's. I couldn't have been more than five.
I'm not sure when I began to remember the story. I married a guy with a Scottish/Irish background. We wanted their names to "go with" their last name".
When I was pregnant with my second son - we didn't know if he was going to be a boy or girl. This drove the world crazy. "How can you not know??" My reply, "I have the rest of my life to know."
There are so few "good surprises" in life. You know, the surprises that take your breath away. That let you breathe the way life told you all along you were going to breathe this way.
About the time my labor started, the priest from the church called and asked if we he was here yet. .
I remember telling him, "I know you aren't going to believe this, but my contractions started about an hour ago. Although we still aren't sure if he is a boy or a girl.".
Nolan's dad didn't even know at this point. The priest asked if he could call the hospital tomorrow to check on us. Of course, I replied.
We are in the Labor and Delivery room at Rose Hospital in Denver, CO. It's the final moments. My doctor - whom was about my age - looked around the room. She said "SO, is it a boy or a girl?"
Nurse: Girl. Dad: I have no idea. Me: He's a boy. His name is Nolan.
He was born a few minutes later. I forgot to ask if he was a boy or a girl.
I guess they aren't really surprises. Just listen people. Just listen.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
News
Turn your TV off.
All of you.
Turn the internet news off too.
Unless you are willing to make a change and DO SOMETHING that will make a difference. Quit whining.
My oldest "son" in Hawaii and I were talking about ISIS today. He also sent a text about the Governor of Colorado.
The response to him, from me: "What are YOU doing about it but complaining?"
Then he calls, he tells me I'm a very bad person (well, this is not true, as we had several conversations about now and what is going on in the world.)
Truth be told: I couldn't tell you what was going on in the world.
Is it important to know what is going on?
ABSOLUTELY.
Are you going to do anything about the fact it isn't the way YOU believe?
THEN, (I'm sorry) - Be quiet - it's just whining.
No one has EVER changed their mind in a moment approached by controversy.
Most people might actually listen to others. When you tell people though, you have to change your mind? That doesn't work. We all know that.
I hear the mayor in Houston, TX is trying to combine the separation of the church and state. I don't agree with that.
However, other than just ignoring it - I can have a conversation with friends. I can tell people I don't agree.
What I can't do: Tell someone else my way of thinking is the right way. Their way is not.
What I can do:
Stop reading the newspaper
Don't read the headlines on the internet
Volunteer
Worry less
Breathe more
Make a difference.
Or keep whining.
It's not news, it's just chatter.....
All of you.
Turn the internet news off too.
Unless you are willing to make a change and DO SOMETHING that will make a difference. Quit whining.
My oldest "son" in Hawaii and I were talking about ISIS today. He also sent a text about the Governor of Colorado.
The response to him, from me: "What are YOU doing about it but complaining?"
Then he calls, he tells me I'm a very bad person (well, this is not true, as we had several conversations about now and what is going on in the world.)
Truth be told: I couldn't tell you what was going on in the world.
Is it important to know what is going on?
ABSOLUTELY.
Are you going to do anything about the fact it isn't the way YOU believe?
THEN, (I'm sorry) - Be quiet - it's just whining.
No one has EVER changed their mind in a moment approached by controversy.
Most people might actually listen to others. When you tell people though, you have to change your mind? That doesn't work. We all know that.
I hear the mayor in Houston, TX is trying to combine the separation of the church and state. I don't agree with that.
However, other than just ignoring it - I can have a conversation with friends. I can tell people I don't agree.
What I can't do: Tell someone else my way of thinking is the right way. Their way is not.
What I can do:
Stop reading the newspaper
Don't read the headlines on the internet
Volunteer
Worry less
Breathe more
Make a difference.
Or keep whining.
It's not news, it's just chatter.....
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Soft
A good friend of mine at the club has become "soft".
I say this lightly. I do owe another entire tribute to my women friends at the club where I work out. Where else do you know an entire group of people - but the only way to recognize them is naked?
The locker room - well, you stand there naked talking to other women. Over-weight. Under weight. Eating disorders. Career women. Stay at home moms. Retired women. "Trophy" wives. Women that never worked, as they married men whom didn't think they should. Everything in between.
The women whom swim laps every day. Or go to the morning class. Those whom rush off. Those whom linger. Those whom are training. Those whom the only place they have to go is the club. You can see their loneliness pouring from their skin.
We've been through births. Deaths. Heart aches. Success.
All while standing their naked.
This year the club put out "bath wraps" - which I have always loved, but well, these make you hot. They must not be 100% cotton. Must be polyester.
Can I borrow your brush? Do you have a tampon? An extra razor? What is going on with your hormones? Does this get better? Does this get worse? What books have you read? You taking a trip?I'm running late for a meeting, whom has an extra bra in their bag?
One of the women from the locker room - her husband died in bike wreck last year. He was in his early 60's. Her father was a gold medal winner in the Olympics in Germany. He met Hitler. I love all her stories. We've all been there to help her back to her new "normal".
One woman, she and her husband classified themselves as alcoholics. Now they run marathons and Ironman's. They have twin girls in 3rd grade. My youngest son is their hero - running his first half marathon at 12. They love that story.
Another locker room friend. She's always been "hard". Determined. And seriously, the best body ever. I don't know anyone out there whom wouldn't be jealous of her body. Not bony skinny - just in shape.
5 years ago - she gave birth to a baby girl. Two years later another one. 19 years ago - she gave up one.
She never has let herself feel.
I tell her all the time "You got "Soft" on me." She's such a great mom. She bitches. She moans. She grumbles. She works out everyday. She's honest.
She looks better than most of us could ever dream. She's over 40.
She now knows the daughter she gave up at 19. She works in a PICU unit of a hospital as a nurse. She's hardcore when she needs to be.
But, I've known her for years. She's a bit softer than she use to be.
I say this lightly. I do owe another entire tribute to my women friends at the club where I work out. Where else do you know an entire group of people - but the only way to recognize them is naked?
The locker room - well, you stand there naked talking to other women. Over-weight. Under weight. Eating disorders. Career women. Stay at home moms. Retired women. "Trophy" wives. Women that never worked, as they married men whom didn't think they should. Everything in between.
The women whom swim laps every day. Or go to the morning class. Those whom rush off. Those whom linger. Those whom are training. Those whom the only place they have to go is the club. You can see their loneliness pouring from their skin.
We've been through births. Deaths. Heart aches. Success.
All while standing their naked.
This year the club put out "bath wraps" - which I have always loved, but well, these make you hot. They must not be 100% cotton. Must be polyester.
Can I borrow your brush? Do you have a tampon? An extra razor? What is going on with your hormones? Does this get better? Does this get worse? What books have you read? You taking a trip?I'm running late for a meeting, whom has an extra bra in their bag?
One of the women from the locker room - her husband died in bike wreck last year. He was in his early 60's. Her father was a gold medal winner in the Olympics in Germany. He met Hitler. I love all her stories. We've all been there to help her back to her new "normal".
One woman, she and her husband classified themselves as alcoholics. Now they run marathons and Ironman's. They have twin girls in 3rd grade. My youngest son is their hero - running his first half marathon at 12. They love that story.
Another locker room friend. She's always been "hard". Determined. And seriously, the best body ever. I don't know anyone out there whom wouldn't be jealous of her body. Not bony skinny - just in shape.
5 years ago - she gave birth to a baby girl. Two years later another one. 19 years ago - she gave up one.
She never has let herself feel.
I tell her all the time "You got "Soft" on me." She's such a great mom. She bitches. She moans. She grumbles. She works out everyday. She's honest.
She looks better than most of us could ever dream. She's over 40.
She now knows the daughter she gave up at 19. She works in a PICU unit of a hospital as a nurse. She's hardcore when she needs to be.
But, I've known her for years. She's a bit softer than she use to be.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
The way my brain works
My brain NEVER stops. Ever.
Of course, all the things that flutter across my mind, don't make sense. These are not logical thoughts. Actually, they are logical thoughts, but a bit of over-thinking.
Not over-thinking of the stuff I should be over-thinking. You know, not:
Of course, all the things that flutter across my mind, don't make sense. These are not logical thoughts. Actually, they are logical thoughts, but a bit of over-thinking.
Not over-thinking of the stuff I should be over-thinking. You know, not:
- How's my retirement doing?
- What is the best ACT/SAT prep class out there for my kids? I should research that more.
- Am I focused enough on work?
- What can I do to make my business grow?
- Where am I going to move after the kids are gone to college? Or should I wait until after college.
Those BORING things we NEED to do. The things that we SHOULD think about. I just don't. My life just works out, not going to over think it.
No, my mind works more like this:
I'm driving to get groceries and I think of a couple of more things I need. Only two seconds later I have NO idea (as in NOT A CLUE) what I was going to add to the list. (No list = it doesn't make it home).
Oh, then I see some graffiti on an over pass. In the middle of the bridge. In the middle of the space between the top and the "space". How do they get there? Do they hang upside down on the freeway and spray paint? Do they go to graffiti school as in I think all the graffiti looks the same. Is there a class for this?
Oh, look there is another pot shop - let's count how many pot shops we can spot in the next mile.
Crap, green light - I just remembered what I was going to add to the grocery list and I need to write it down before I forget again. Oh well, maybe it will come back before I get to the store.
I really love the song on the radio. Only I don't ever know the titles or the artist. Oh, wait, this song sounds just like the one that makes me think of the second summer in Hawaii. You know the one! Why can't I think of it!!
I'm at the grocery store. Where's that list?
My brain makes me really tired.
Friday, October 17, 2014
When we are home
When I'm out on my adventures - I don't ever miss anything. I don't miss my house. I don't miss my friends, because with communication the way it is today, we still communicate. I don't miss my kids - as they are usually with me. I don't miss work.
I'm perfectly content being out exploring the world.
It's when I'm home, I miss things.
Shouldn't it be the other way around?
I don't think I'm missing out on things when I'm home, but I start to miss things that I'm not doing. With him.
I start to miss traveling. I do really miss the airport - the watching of people. Random strangers connecting. Flights that can take you to far away destinations or quick adventures.
I miss my adventures. Not that I don't have them at home. The adventures are just different when you are in a different place.
I miss my family when I'm home. My extended family. My boys when they are at their dads. I actually miss them when they are at school too (even though they drive me nuts when we are together).
I miss things that aren't real. I miss people whom aren't present.
Peter Pan was in town this weekend. I didn't see him. But it made me think. It's funny - he lives half a world away. He lives with a girlfriend. He says he's not happy - but he doesn't make the change. I could on and on about this story - as it never seems to go away.
Truth be told though, we probably text every other week. Some times we do go three weeks, but not much more without reaching out to each other.
He's out having adventures too. He's living his life.
But when he gets home.
He's in his childhood room. In his childhood house. He's safe. I'm the one to whom he calls or texts. I always know when he's home.
The texts/calls are different. He can let himself me vulnerable.
It's us truly missing each other.
He was here this week. He left on Tuesday night. He had texted me at midnight Monday night - after a weekend of texts, asking if he could stop by.
I replied "Nope".
It was the middle of the night.
We only miss each other when we are at home.
PS.
I sent him a text last night. Of course, I'm home - and he's safe for me to miss now. He is also back to his life. He was in Boston - he had an emergency appendectomy - he had been internally bleeding for over a day. His girlfriend was not in town. I'm the first person he let know after surgery.
He nearly died. He was in surgery for over 5 hours.
I couldn't breathe - as of course, the person I am felt guilty for not letting him come over. Maybe I would have known something was wrong.
But I was home, missing him.
I'm perfectly content being out exploring the world.
It's when I'm home, I miss things.
Shouldn't it be the other way around?
I don't think I'm missing out on things when I'm home, but I start to miss things that I'm not doing. With him.
I start to miss traveling. I do really miss the airport - the watching of people. Random strangers connecting. Flights that can take you to far away destinations or quick adventures.
I miss my adventures. Not that I don't have them at home. The adventures are just different when you are in a different place.
I miss my family when I'm home. My extended family. My boys when they are at their dads. I actually miss them when they are at school too (even though they drive me nuts when we are together).
I miss things that aren't real. I miss people whom aren't present.
Peter Pan was in town this weekend. I didn't see him. But it made me think. It's funny - he lives half a world away. He lives with a girlfriend. He says he's not happy - but he doesn't make the change. I could on and on about this story - as it never seems to go away.
Truth be told though, we probably text every other week. Some times we do go three weeks, but not much more without reaching out to each other.
He's out having adventures too. He's living his life.
But when he gets home.
He's in his childhood room. In his childhood house. He's safe. I'm the one to whom he calls or texts. I always know when he's home.
The texts/calls are different. He can let himself me vulnerable.
It's us truly missing each other.
He was here this week. He left on Tuesday night. He had texted me at midnight Monday night - after a weekend of texts, asking if he could stop by.
I replied "Nope".
It was the middle of the night.
We only miss each other when we are at home.
PS.
I sent him a text last night. Of course, I'm home - and he's safe for me to miss now. He is also back to his life. He was in Boston - he had an emergency appendectomy - he had been internally bleeding for over a day. His girlfriend was not in town. I'm the first person he let know after surgery.
He nearly died. He was in surgery for over 5 hours.
I couldn't breathe - as of course, the person I am felt guilty for not letting him come over. Maybe I would have known something was wrong.
But I was home, missing him.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
It's complicated
I was "chatting" with a friend of mine in London the other day. We were on instant messenger.
I've known him a long time. In fact, I don't even think I was pregnant with Nolan when I met him. We worked together.
He and his girlfriend had met in St Louis. Moved to Denver. Both were from "the other side of the pond" - I believe she was from Slovenia. He was from England.
I worked with him. My children's dad and I did several things with them. We knew them for years.
We got divorced. He and his girlfriend broke up. We went out a couple of times. But I'm not sure either of us really knew how to act in this situation - so we did what I commonly do, we became friends.
He moved back to Europe a few years ago. We've never lost touch. In fact, we all went to dinner together in London in the Spring. He bought Duncan a pint of beer. I remember him saying to the boys "wow, you grew up!"
In our messaging we were talking about dating and he is dating this woman. Then he says "It's complicated".
The first thing I respond is "Is she married?"
"She has twin 17 year olds" "She never married, but is with her partner of 18 years".
We chat for a bit about this. I didn't ask if this "partner" was male or female - as in the USA when someone says "partner" - I assume, business or same sex. However, across the world "partner" can mean all sorts of things.
Of course though, my grandfather always called his grand-sons his "partners" - to me, that is what "partner" really means".
See, it's not complicated. It's love.
I've known him a long time. In fact, I don't even think I was pregnant with Nolan when I met him. We worked together.
He and his girlfriend had met in St Louis. Moved to Denver. Both were from "the other side of the pond" - I believe she was from Slovenia. He was from England.
I worked with him. My children's dad and I did several things with them. We knew them for years.
We got divorced. He and his girlfriend broke up. We went out a couple of times. But I'm not sure either of us really knew how to act in this situation - so we did what I commonly do, we became friends.
He moved back to Europe a few years ago. We've never lost touch. In fact, we all went to dinner together in London in the Spring. He bought Duncan a pint of beer. I remember him saying to the boys "wow, you grew up!"
In our messaging we were talking about dating and he is dating this woman. Then he says "It's complicated".
The first thing I respond is "Is she married?"
"She has twin 17 year olds" "She never married, but is with her partner of 18 years".
We chat for a bit about this. I didn't ask if this "partner" was male or female - as in the USA when someone says "partner" - I assume, business or same sex. However, across the world "partner" can mean all sorts of things.
Of course though, my grandfather always called his grand-sons his "partners" - to me, that is what "partner" really means".
See, it's not complicated. It's love.
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