On Turning 30 Part VI: Losing Patience

I have always been a rather impatient, frustrated person. Even at a very young age, I remember being taunted at church camp (Church Camp of all places, WTF?!) for having "stress." Picture this, a 12 year-old me sitting in the canteen pushing a lukewarm chicken patty and three-day-old green beans around a plastic plate while my peers chant "Dana has stress! Dana has stress!" I suppose I should have been glad it was stress and not something more humiliating like enormous acne scars or snaggle teeth, which indeed, I had then.

Thinking back on this now, I remembered being really angry and even tearful at the chants because 1) a 12 year-old shouldn't really know STRESS in the adult sense of the term, let alone be teased for it and 2) did I mention this was CHURCH CAMP?! Had I been wise, I would have paid a therapist to undo the mind-print this experience left. :) This is also where praying should have come in handy.

Eighteen years later, that pre-teen stress has evolved in the gradual decline of composure and patience. I simply don't have much of it these days. I am wondering aloud right now if this is a cyclical thing, meaning that when I'm in my later years I'll be footloose and fancy free? I like to picture myself as a cool old bag, blue hair a-flyin' as I drive my badass red convertible down the highway at breakneck speeds. (If you're gonna go, do it kickass, I say.)
Or, is the slow erosion of patience and thus sanity, something that eventually whittles down to a nub and then *Poof!* you're what they all call 'over the edge?' Maybe they're one and the same thing? Just thinking about that right now.

Occasionally my friends here me say "I just hate people." Now, forgive me the harsh language - it's semantics - but it's the best way I can say it in the throes of a moment. People, in general, piss me off. As I grow older, I've begun losing that charming PR function of the brain. You know, the funnel-to-filter mechanism that helps mask the angst in a stressful situation? At 30 years-old, I'm running with the big girls wearing my contempt sometimes in an eye flash or a crooked downward smile. I'm trying, the will to try is still there, but I'm not as good at it as I was say, in college or high school. (Back in the 1990s, it wasn't considered cool to be a flamboyantly crass asshole like it is now. Now, kids throw vulgarity around like they do cash at an Abercrombie.)

My point is, I'm growing a bit concerned about blowing it too early (forgive the again vulgar pun) as it comes to being jaded, sarcastic, and cynical. I fear I'm losing my faith in people these days. I get frustrated, angry, and downright disappointed when I see people behaving in a manner I find disrespectful, nasty, or just plain insane. Don't get me wrong, there's a time and place for nastiness and friendly, sarcastic banter, but I'm finding that RUDE permeates the everyday a little much for my tastes. I'm beginning to wonder if I can hold it all in anymore. Take this example:

On Sunday afternoon, my boyfriend and I went to a grocery store to stock up on essentials for the week and the store was packed to the seams with people hunting down deals, bumper-carring their payloads, and generally getting in the way. Picture if you will, crowded aisles filled with people in motorized carts (I'd say a 2 to 1 aisle ratio), kids in those GD heelies, and loud, foul-mouthed adults peeling coupons and pissing and moaning over the fact that their government debit won't cover cigs. Anyway, after pushing the cart and trying to be humorous for the first fifteen minutes, it begins to escalate. The heat in the building rises; 1/2 of the store smells like rotting seafood (imagine!), and I've been scraped on the heels twice by offending carts. I've been forced to wait while people back up, pull up, move over, scuttle sideways, and I'm starting to feel like that kid in heelies is itching for a close-lining. (Note - I have promised my boyfriend NEVER to do this as technically, it is assault.)

What gives me pause about this situation now is that under these circumstances, in the past, I was able to merely mutter a few comments under my breath and go on with my day. Frustrated yes, but under control and really not all that bothered in the long run. But on this given Sunday, note one that was wrapping up a pretty damn good weekend, I didn't respond the same way.
Still in zone near the dairy section, I glanced away from the cart while searching for sharp cheddar cheese. It was then that I felt a jolt - someone had crashed into the end of my cart. In a flash, I snapped my attention forward, fist raised, ready to swing. Only in front of me was not an evil assailant, but my neighbor who wanted to give me a friendly tap on the cart as she passed.
*Whew!
Crisis averted! But still...WHAT was I thinking rearing back like that? Was I really going to strike someone for hitting my cart? Maybe? I don't know. At age 30, does your sense of decorum despite the madness start to go like the engine in a Dodge Stratus after only five years?! Wow. I scare myself.
Thinking about it scares me to death.
Had it not been my super cool neighbor, rather some everyday jackweed, would I really have shouted and waved my first around like a crazy person? Would I have buckled under stress and flung my green peppers like grenades?

I.Don't.Know.

And I'm scared to death. This is likely the part of the story where the doc prescribes a Prozac or Paxil, but frankly, I don't feel that imbalanced. I just have a rapidly deteriorating filter.
If you know me, you know I won't hit a person, especially a stranger, in a situation like this; however, my knee-jerk body response to this gave me a shake to reality.
I'm losing my patience.
Fast.

What IS it about old age and losing patience? I find that I get frustrated in even the smallest, most inadvertent moments. I don't want people walking in the door when I'm walking out; I want everyone to go at least five over the speed limit or I'm up their tailpipe (forgive the phrase) wailing on my horn. (Note - it's really hard to stay angry when your car horn sounds like a friendly salute, even when you're attempting viciousness.) :)
Seeing a blemish in the morning on my face is tantamount to destroying the day for me. The wind gets on my nerves. (After all, it's nearly always blowing something.)
And on...and on...

And I'll be honest, I'm NOT an unhappy person! I'm a pretty happy-go-lucky gal for the most part. I just want things to move quickly, smoothly, and in a rational order. The little chaos things or the actions that impede my progress, well, they're starting to affect me more significantly than ever.
(Moment of pondering...this CAN'T be the GD Change. Not possible. Now THAT would really piss me off.)

But it's the little things, the little bits of disrespect, and more often than not, it's the inanimate objects - the destroyed toilets in the bathroom wafting offending odors, the impossible paper towel dispensers, the hangers in the laundry room that seem to procreate with one another, and the unsuspecting pothole in the streets. This is what makes me 'lose it' more than anything.
I get irate about semi tractor-trailers, especially when they back up on a side street blocking all routes of traffic while they maneuver into a spot 3 feet wide. I get flamed when radio stations play the same three Li'l Wayne songs over and over. (Don't even start me on Lady Gaga.)
See? It's really not people...it's the product of people.
Does this make me crazy?

Or just old?

The other day I went up to a gas station attendant and (gasp) I asked to buy a pack of cigarettes (details of the reason not needed here). The pubescent behind the counter asked to see my ID. Of course, I was flattered. (18?! Holy hell! Awesome!)
But no...
I responded by flashing my driver's license, saying "Wow, that's flattering, thanks."
To which he responded,
"Well, you elderly people are looking younger and younger every day."

ELDERLY!?
(()*&(E^(&@)%*)(JDSOFI&)(*U&WS^))(*)#&%)*)$*)!*_0823570dso79087=!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Fill in what you will here.
Very much like the grocery store incident, I felt indeed compelled to punch my fist through customer service window, showing this snot-nosed drug-induced gas bag what elderly meant.
JUDO CHOP!

But I didn't. Filter engaged that time.

The point (and maybe moral) of this story is, is that as I get older, I'm finding that the torment and ability to 'reign it in' is becoming significantly more difficult. People can visibly see me wrestling with these moments, almost audibly coaching myself down. (Or they can see my boyfriend coaching me down...whatever.)
It's just that...the little nuisances are beginning to make me crazy.
I can handle a crisis. I can't seem to wrestle with benignity of police car ahead of me on the road slowing traffic down to a fearful crawl. It's enough to make my head spin. :)

I suppose this makes me not only older, but Type A.
But am I alone?
Surely they don't license this brand of crazy to just anyone.
Do they?

On Turning 30: A Day in the Mind...

I received an email forward once from my sister titled "Random Thoughts." Typically forwards annoy me, but today it was a rather witty, dry list someone created of his stream of consciousness on one given day.

For instance, the writer's son asked "What happens if you run over a ninja?" And, random topics like Facebook stalking, swine flu, and the 'fact' that pants never need washing.

Inspired, I've created my list for the day...


* I like wine. I like grape juice. I like grapes, even raisins. Prunes are okay, if necessary. I like grape-flavored Popsicles and Big League Chew. So why is it that I can't stand prune juice or the sweet, grape-flavored wine?

* If a wood chuck can chuck wood, in other words, he/she is a "WOOD CHUCK," then why do we always ask "how much wood can a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?" I mean, the animal ALREADY CAN! Right?

* What is wrong with Facebook or my computer today? Am I less of a person if I miss that thing when denied it?

* Every time someone mentions the Interweb lingo "face palm," all I can think about are faces and napalm. Is that bad?
Probably. Why can't I think of palm tree or pommes de terre?

* I am beginning to think I can't eat anything without it resting on my shirt hours after the fact. Is this old age or declining dining habits?

* I can't think about jello molds without thinking of the rotting carpet in my office or the black gelatinous ooze my boyfriend found in a jar of pasta sauce. Why do we make Jello molds anyway?

* I try to answer my office phone differently every time, even when I'm trying to answer the same way each time. Something in my sub-conscience won't allow me to say things twice into the phone though I ask people to repeat themselves all the time.

* People who walk too slowly in Meijer make me feel justified in hitting them with my own cart. They often are obstructing the aisle. I never have hit someone with my cart...but I think about it all the time.

* I want a degree in anger management. I can't find a school for that.

* I am terrified that the act of reading will disappear in America entirely. Reading spares others from asinine questions.

* I am losing patience with food.

* I miss Super Mario Brothers 3.
And Game Boy.

* I wonder what I will look like with white hair? I think I'm going to make a funny-looking old person, but I'm looking forward to speaking my mind on everything.

* Traveling has become a savings-tanker. Taxes, surcharges, fees, luxury fees, service fees....many didn't exist before. I remember when it didn't cost $80.00 to check 2 bags, one time en route to location and one time en route home.
Thanks a lot, Expedia. Next time, I'm going with that gnome. I like gnomes.

* Semi tractor-trailers scare me to death and piss me off. I see it as a daily David Vs. Goliath challenge. We invented jet packs and eco-friendly cars, but we haul everything with these 18-wheel monstrosities? Come on.

* I am at battle with carbohydrates. They hate my face.

* "I am the Walrus." The Beatles are fun, but have you ever seen a freaking walrus? They're badass. They have fighting tusks. Sometimes, I wish I had giant teeth to spear people with.

* Falling in love is very comparable to falling flat on your face in a Wal-Mart parking lot. I've done both. Both leave one hell of a welt.

* I remember when smoking cigarettes was considered classy and cool. Now, if you smoke, you rank right up there with toxic waste. Wait a minute, it's not that cool. Toxic waste can be recycled into newer, cooler things,...than you.

* The Disney and Nickelodeon channels hate parents. Why then do parents let kids watch their shows? Every parent character on these stations is portrayed as a buffoon. Spongebob can stay.

* Speaking of strollers, why are they so BIG now?! I think I saw one in the parking lot at O'Daniel the other day: mama special $19,500 for a used, Jeep baby stroller, big wheels and all-terrain ready. Seating for four plus luggage compartment.
Damn. When I was a baby, I had a mobile seat, with four little plastic wheels, a strap of fabric to sit on and a velcro safety belt. I was rockin' if we put the umbrella up. Nowadays, babies have cruise control, heated seats, anti-lock breaks, and airbags. :)

* My dentist told me my teeth with always look a bit yellow because "you're so fair, so pasty." Isn't the paste supposed to make my teeth white?! Why did I spend so many years brushing and flossing then, just so I can have taupe teeth?!

* Capris pants make me look like Tweedle Dee. Or an ice cream cone. Yes, I'm serious. Quit asking me if I want to buy those damn things!

* I think requiring women to have pap smears just to obtain birth control pills is a poor idea. It inspires the practice of unsafe sex. No one should have to have Pap smear for responsible sexual activity. The irresponsible ones should have to have the smears to get OFF birth control.

* Commercials are now louder than TV programs. I don't know about you, but I hate being startled and kicking my bowl of popcorn all over the room every time a Cialis or Kotex commercial comes on. As if those ads aren't creepy enough, let's blast the terms "ED" and "Flow" at master volume so everyone can reflect on the issues during a brief break in programming. No thanks.

* Facebook, Myspace, Twitter and any of their illegitimate sons and daughters are havens for selfishness and narcissism. You might as well jump up and down in front of your parents and scream "Look at me! Look at me!" If your parents are on Facebook or Myspace or Twitter, I encourage you to de-friend them, now. Parents + Facebook = social networking nightmare.

* It is not cool to break up with someone via text, social site, or voice mail. However, recent studies show this is far more common today. I picture a pool of sharks swimming around man's Facebook status waiting for the words "It's complicated" to become "Single."

* When I grow up, I want to be a cougar, but just for a minute so I have an excuse to wear a leopard print Snuggie.

* Kia is the new Dollar General of the automotive industry and I don't know why.

* Every time I get a spam mail or post, I think of some jackass hurling a real can of fake meat product at me. That's not right. I wonder if spammers get up each day, have breakfast, get dressed, and then sit at the computer with their coffee starting the day's spam threads. Hmmm...maybe it's a real job?

* Every one of us is dying, but fewer of us are doing it with class.

On Turning 30 Part IV: I See Rude People

For Christmas, my mother gave me a copy of Amy Alkon's book, I See Rude People. When I opened my stocking this year, I was taken aback at first thinking this is one of THOSE gifts, you know the kind, to teach you a passive-aggressive lesson about personal attitude. However, after considering that for a few days, I decided to read it.

Amy Alkon, I totally get you.

Ms. Alkon is a writer who chose to take on our country's declining customer service criteria and social situation codes in what I can only call a vigilante approach to sending rude people a message. (See tailgaters, loud cell phone calls in public, poorly mannered children and parents, etc.) Her story about tracking down the thief who stole her bubble gum pink Rambler is worth it alone. I read the book front to back within a few weeks and I have to say, I felt a bit vindicated in my desire for our society to execute better manners, better customer service, and better...well, everything!

For instance, I was talking with a friend the other day about the checkout lines in grocery stores here in Indiana. When I worked for a grocery store at age 16 (my first job you see), it was required by our managers to "be friendly" and "greet the customers." Now, if I go into Target or Meijer, I'm lucky if the cashier acknowledges my presence. Pay no mind that I'm buying a metric F-ton of groceries and could very well be the Unibomber in my hoodie and sunglasses, but the cashier isn't alarmed. I suppose the real 'flight risks' are using the SELF-CHECKOUT. Meanwhile, Cashier Kid is ringing up groceries in way that can only be described as EMO...slow, one-by-one, without looking up and without talking, as if I have all damn day to watch him mumble the lyrics to a Dashboard Confessionals tune. Did I mention he takes a cell phone call mid-check out and then ultimately becomes perplexed at the sight of my produce selection.

"What kind of apples are these?"
I can't resist. "Free ones."
"Oh."

Seriously!?
I know there's a reason they have those insane little stickers on the fruit and these read "Honeycrisp."

I feel badly. "They're Honeycrisp apples. I was just kidding."

Cashier Kid doesn't smile and keeps checking. We pause over bananas, a cucumber, and a container of blueberries.
I know technology has changed over the years, but I recall VISUAL aids in my cashier computer in the 90s...not just PLUs...showing the fruit.

"That'll be $112.95."
"Okay. I have a coupon for those NutriGrain bars."
Cashier Boy sighs. I am really putting him out. I'd like to add that I'm put out as well, having had to bag my own groceries and explain the products to the cashier.
What the, is that a Twilight button on his apron!?

This is what I'm talking about. The sighing, the lack of enthusiasm, the visible disgust at the mention of COUPON. No "Hello." No "Have a good day." No witty banter even when applied with modern sarcasm - apparently the kids don't dig it.
I worked harder for my purchases than the boy did and he gets $8.50/hour for it. I paid in. WTF?!

Now I realize that I'm coming off a bit nasty here, but do know that I understand that everyone has a bad day. I have them too - more often than I care to admit to anyone. However, this is a trend in retail. At Anne Taylor, our local OUTLET, salespeople won't condescend to wait on me or my friends. We're not all that trendy especially because we're paying in cash. Upon entering the store, I got a head nod, but the helpers scattered when we went looking for dressing room assistance. Victoria Secret was the same.

After shopping for under-nothings, my gal pal and I approached the check-out counter to pay for our items. We were the only customers in the store save two teenagers gabbing over a display of perfume. While my friend and I stood there, waiting to check out, the FOUR VS clerks surrounded the teenagers, assisting them.
Now I ask, if you have the opportunity to make a sale at the counter, do you throw your entire workforce at the 75% off counter and two girls under age 16?! Ack!
Forget that I've got about $200 worth of 'gear' under my arm, let's nab that 20% discount on 50% body spray.

Amy Alkon would have commented loudly or dropped the purchases on the floor and walked out. We didn't do that. We should have.
Instead, we waited like cattle to be served, not interrupting the saleswomen in their pursuit of the rated PG-13 sale.

This is the most infuriating part. In cases like these, at my age and with the kind of time I have (and my peers have), we should feel correct in asking for assistance or saying "Excuse me, but we'd like some help," but unfortunately, we try to be the nice ones, the polite ones, leading by "example" when in fact, that amounts to a hill a'beans.

Nice gals finish last they say.
Nice gals wait forty minutes to buy a bra.
*Sigh.

It makes me wonder where all the nice salespeople have gone? Where has customer service gone? When I was first entering the work force (insert grandma-ish tone and finger waggle), it was EXPECTED of me to be nice to everyone coming in. I had to serve thousands of breadsticks to greedy lakers knowing full well they wouldn't tip me as I waitressed to make college tuition in the summer. I HAD to ASK the customer for coupons when I worked at the grocery store and offer them the option of paper or plastic.

Not so anymore, if I want excellent service, I have to self-check out or buy online. Then I get the service I require and the liability of error placed firmly on...ME.

Nice. Real nice.

I know I sound like a curmudgeon, the type who hands out toothbrushes at Halloween and bookmarks at Easter, but I'm really not. I just want more people in this country to be polite.
BE NICE!

Office situations and social situations are the same too. Driving is the epitome of rudeness. The road is the only place where I've witnessed people TRYING to get into an accident.

Last night, a telemarketer called my cell phone to ask me to make a tax appointment. "Mrs Barnett?" My reply was, "I'm sorry, this isn't Mrs. Barnett, you must have the wrong number." To which the caller replied, "I mean, BARRETT. Barrett! I'm sorry, I mean Mrs. Barrett."
To this I could have replied, "There's no Mrs. Barrett," but that would have been a lie, in case she had called for my stepmom.
She hadn't.

Fact was, she didn't bother to even pronounce my name internally before blathering it into the phone, a call of course, I'm charged for.
How would you like it if I called you after 6 pm about your taxes and called you by another person's name?!

Ya wouldn't.

And people wonder why I 'screen' my calls. In fact, I don't even like the phone anymore. Though I think texting and emailing aren't great communication tools, I prefer it to having to stumble through awkward telemarketing calls, especially those nasty buggers who bring their numbers through as "Unknown Caller."
You never know when those calls are emergencies!
Grrrrr.

I think about people who work in customer service areas and I do have to sympathize a bit. Customers can be real a-holes too! There are a few of us out there who ruin it for everyone! For instance, the customer who comes in and doesn't bother to ask your name or say Hello. I've been called "Hey you!" "'Sup!" and "Come here before you get away!" all in a work day. I've given up on people when it comes to please and thank-you.
And the Divine help you if you have to tell a customer "NO." This can incur the wrath of the ages, all rage acquired by that customer between last night's pot roast and this morning's coffee.
My favorite insult to date is "You IGNANT STUPID B*TCH."
(Yes, I wrote 'ignant.' I don't know what it means.)

I get it, it's also tough making the 'cold call' and having to serve others, but remember you are making money! You have a job!
And both are good.
Really good.

Social situations are similar too. I know I'd be frustrated by a customer talking on his/her cell phone mid-transaction. To me, that just isn't fair. At least acknowledge Cashier Boy when you check out. Had I had my Blackberry to my face when he rang up my groceries, I would have earned that Emo, "I don't give a flick about you" sale.

Like Amy Alkon, people don't realize just how much of themselves they give away by carrying on full blown conversations in the grocery store, in the drive-thru, in Starbucks, etc. You have no idea who's listening and let's be honest, WE ALL CAN HEAR YOU and your cyber-lover on the phone! You're meeting at which truck stop again?

*Shudder.

And rudeness to others just starts here: The holier-than-thous who park their SUVs and trucks in TWO parking spots instead of one; The "Can I gets" instead of "May I haves;" The cut-in-line types who need to grab 'one more thing' before they can complete a sale; The obnoxious Starbucks customer who forgets he's just in STARBUCKs with the "Venti Mocha Frappe, no whip, half-skim, half-espresso, green tea shot with Vitamin B-12;" The sue-happy people who spill coffee in the drive-thrus; The people who destroy public bathrooms...I could go on all day.

I guess as I run into a spiral of a rant, I should find a point. My point is this: why can't we be nice to each other? Why can't we think of the other person's feelings and situations before we whiz all over the seat in the Bed, Bath, and Beyond bathroom? Why can't we think of the other people who can be helped by being nice to Emo Cashier Kid? Why can't we just turn off our cell phones when paying for the burger? Why can't we help more people in line with a smile?

The winter is gloomy and we're all short on Vitamin D and sunlight. I get it.
But remember, smiling and being kind to others may catch on a little and improve the state of customer service and manners in this area.
If not, I'm calling Amy Alkon.

On Turning 30 Part III: I get it, I don't have a baby, but I still have eggs

I know it's a new year and it's been months since I last put up a ranty post, but I haven't felt much like ranting about being 30 lately and have felt that I needed to wait for some appropriate fodder. I have it now.

Truthfully, being 30 years-old isn't all that bad. Frankly, it makes it okay for me to not be cool. I can stay in on a Friday night doing homework or watching The Office reruns and do so without guilt because no one called about going to the bar. I'm finding that I like peace and quiet and impromptu small group dinners with friends rather than the 10 pm - 3 am booze-hound crowds. I'm no longer too concerned about how I look in hot rollers in the morning (it's pretty freaking hilarious) and after one year and some months of dating, I finally allowed my boyfriend to see me with wet hair and no makeup. (Gasp!)

It's taken a few weeks, but I'm finally getting a little comfortable with crossing the 30 threshold. But there's this one thing that keeps happening...

For those of you who don't know me very well, allow me to give you a bit of a current profile. I have a career in higher education and attend graduate school in the evenings to earn my M.A. in English. In addition, I am on several committees both for and outside of work in the name of community service. I take yoga and tai chi. (Note - I'm pretty terrible at both, but I'm not giving in yet. They promise serenity and relaxation at some point.) I also have an active family and social life. When I'm not meeting a commitment of some kind, I can typically be found cleaning, reading, or writing. I suppose those are dull pastimes for some, but they bring me peace.

I recently added researching and buying a new car. This is somewhat a selfish project, but it's wavering between a desire and necessity and in time, the urgency warning will sound.

Anyway, I tend to sleep somewhere between 4 and 6 hours per night because if I'm not attending meetings, working, or going to school, I'm at home preparing for one of them or squeezing in an hour or two of relaxation. Now mind you, I'm not a whiz kid. There are people who are far busier than I am and who have even more projects on the side, but frankly, I think this is pretty par for someone my age, unmarried, and without children of my own.

Segue to what gets me riled up.
I get it. I'm not married and I haven't given birth. I don't have children of my own, though my boyfriend has two wonderful little girls who I love to spend time with. I also have nieces and nephews and friends with adorable little cherubs - all of whom I enjoy being around when I can. I'm pretty kid-friendly actually.

What galls me is this conversation, one that has occurred multiple times in my late 20s, but seems to now mark conversations with friends and family more frequently. When adults come together in conversation about life and the daily goings-on, oftentimes, we lament how busy were are or how stressed we are or how much we have on our proverbial plates by way of responsibilities. Recently, I was sharing my work stress with a friend who often shares her stress with me and upon listening to what I was worried about responded:
"Well, it's not like you have a sick kid at home or a family. You don't even know what busy is."

WTF?

Now, I'm not an idiot. Parenting is tough. Marriage is tough. Life in and of itself is tough. But I think it's pretty lame for parents to condescend on non-parents simply because they've chosen not to have children yet, or at all. Frankly, I can't imagine how stressful being a parent is because I'm not one yet...and I may never be one. But! Does that mean my concerns, my stresses, my responsibilities are LESSER in value because they don't relate to green burp-up and lipstick on the walls?

I'm not being facetious, I'm asking!

And I can't even fathom what it must feel like to have a child spring from your loins. I'm sure that takes its toll on the body and the psyche, but I have eggs. They may not be as fresh as yours, but they were there last time I checked.
I'm still a woman. I'm just not a mom.

My own mother got on board with this thinking when telling me to relax and rest more. Note - her concern was that I was wearing myself down and not getting enough rest. But she threw in "well, at least you're not pregnant or married or have children. It's not like that."

Talk about making me feel guilty. "Shame on you, Dana, for thinking you're actually stressed out and overwhelmed. If you don't have a baby, then it's peanuts, pumpkin."

Now I have to add here, the guilt + the responsibility and accountability of stress = manic state of self-loathing. Just so you know.
I still have eggs, dammit.

And I'm not saying that being a mom isn't tough and I have a great deal of respect for all moms out there - well the good ones that is - and I understand that my life can't possibly be held up against one of a parent's, but to me this is difference, not better or worse.
Right?

And I hate to pour salt into the wound here and point this out, but you don't need a license or a degree to get pregnant. I'm just saying. Damn near anyone can do it and those that cannot, well I feel for them. (I may even be in your camp and don't know it yet.)
But that said, just because you CAN give birth, doesn't mean you should. And just because you DID give birth to a beautiful child doesn't mean you should rub non-parents' noses in it. There may be a perfectly logical reason for someone like me to not have children. Doesn't mean I don't have problems or stress or responsibilities and it sure as hell doesn't mean I don't have a family.

PS: I HAVE A FAMILY.

*Takes deep yoga-like breath.

You see, I don't know where I am on the child-rearing spectrum yet. I love children and I know a lot of great, caring parents out there who inspire me. I don't know if I can have children yet and I don't know that it's in my future. What I've chosen (for the time being) is to NOT have children until my life is in order - when I'm in better health; have more flexible time; can be home more often; etc. To have a child in the chaos that is my career right now just wouldn't be fair to the little him or her. I'd even like to have one of those fancy soccer-mom-mobiles if I'm going to be one - the whole gamut. But not right now.

I have other things to do. And sure, I could eat crow on this sooner than later and not everyone has the option for being so on-the-fence, but I don't see how one person's baby automatically tips the scale away from the career-person. I heard different was good once?

I have one friend who is very dear to me and at the last minute asks me to babysit. Now, I ADORE her daughter and when possible would drop what I'm doing to help out. However, the few times I've had to say 'no' resulted in a "Hmph" and "Well what the heck are you doing?" in a tone to suggest the end-note "...that's more important than being with a child."
It hurts my feelings frankly. (And don't even start me on parents who constantly complain about having children; to me, that's not right either! Children, in my opinion, are a wonderful gift - except those murdering ones on Law & Order.) :)

You're right, I'm out boozing it up and driving a hot little red sports cars without care or concern or on the couch eating Doritos and playing video games. Sheesh. Someone has to go these meetings and someone has to make sure office opens on time.

This, to me, is why so many 30-something women become OBSESSED with procreation. They have to do it to fit in. They're getting pressure from all sides from other mommies and and their mommy's mommy and couple that with the age-old "you're not getting any younger" schtick and voila! your typical career woman morphs into hormonal, invitro-obsessed, maniac - clutching at babies in Wal-Mart and googling over maternity clothes before she's been on date 1.

Gak.
Not for me.

Now to be clear, I realize I may miss out on something truly beautiful someday if I never have a child of my own. I know that deep down; most of us do. I also know that if I don't have a child by age 31, it's gonna be okay. I have nine good years to still make it work if that's in the cards. I also know a lot of children out there who could benefit just from my being involved in their lives. That's okay and pretty cool too.

What I do not appreciate is this permeating assumption that women without children are children-haters, or selfish, or wealthy, or hard up, or cold and bitter,....and yada yada yada. It's just not true.

Some of us aren't mothers for perfectly sound reasons: we're babysitters, friends who can help out, step-parents, role models, Big Brothers or Big Sisters, mentors, etc. Some of us are just not there yet and just because one woman or couple got there first doesn't mean he/she or both of them get to condescend on whether or not their lives are more stressful. Their lives may have different meaning and different complications.

Just don't clobber me over the head with it, okay?
By reminding people like me that we're childless, well it just adds insult to injury. Next time, ask about my eggs first.

On Turning 30 Part II: The Adolescent Part

I suppose when you become 30 years-old, you're officially embarking on "middle aged." I'm not so sure about that. I think if this is true, then where do all the 'mid-life crises' come from or why do people like me still get acne? To me, I think turning 30 years-old is the equivalent to being back in middle school or embracing yet one more of life's adolescent, pubescent stages. You're faced with the merging together of a young past and an impending older age phase where you have to start considering the value of your 401K and if you're super fortunate like I am, AARP already has you on their mailing list. Talk about the compression of two reality checks!

First of all, people turning 30 are starting to realize that 'the party's over.' It's not nearly as cool to dress up like a skank and troll the bars until 4 am. Now when you hit the club, you're the old marm sitting at the bar and not the one getting your swerve on on the dance floor. And really, the bars you like are now the seedier, quieter ones where you can hear a good band, talk to your closest friends and wear comfortable clothes, even if it does feel a little like 'don't touch me armor.'

And let's face it, you're now a beer snob. Or a wine snob. Or a whiskey snob. Keystone and Ice House don't taste like they used to (did they ever taste at all?) and you're well past drinking an un-reciped concoction out of garbage can - who cares if Harry Buff brought the stuff? Boxed wine and Boon's Farm is now a perpetual joke and you can rib-poke your buddies laughing about how you used to drink Mad Dog 20/20 and how at one time it was 'good sh*t.' (No, it never was either.)

Instead you're sipping cabernet from a real wine glass (not a plastic one) or full flavored import out of the bottle because it tastes much better than what comes in the can.

And when I say the party's over, I don't mean the 30-somethings don't have fun, but we all understand the value of sleep now. Staying up all night or getting less than four hours of sleep is no longer possible. It yields a late shift or a sick day, or if everyone is unfortunate, your day to make others miserable at the office.
Eye bags can't be helped at this point and no amount of 'roid cream can tame them. Without your 6-8 hours, you're puffy, raggedy, and a real nasty ass to be around. It's that simple. So if you care about your family, friends, peers, colleagues...you try to 'call it' before midnight when possible.

Your body is kicking into a new gear right along side the party changes too and this is where it gets super complicated. For women, if we have kids, we have resigned ourselves to perpetually hating what that birth process put there forever, be it chunk in the trunk, or cellulite or a fat pack. Whatever. The cool thing about this change in life is that you have your children and can transition from body-image beast to doting mother.
(No seriously, I think this is how it should be if that's your case.)

Those of us without children, yet have the scars, the fat pack, the cellulite, the extra 20, well...we're just plain pissed because we earned it the selfish way. Or the lazy way. And it's more frustrating because those starvation diets that worked ten years ago don't apply now because your biological core has said, 'time's up for crazy fad crap. You lifestyle change or it's over - double digit sizes for good.'

And for women, the whole experience is compounded by the merging of biological phases and both aren't quite ready to give up yet. For instance, this is the time for hag hairs and dark circles, even the beginning of forehead wrinkles and yet you still fight acne, brush oily hair, and have to shave your legs. (unless you're a man and just don't need to do those things) :) And to make matters worse, your reproductive cycle is now out of whack and you're going through what every man went through back in high school when it comes to sex. How this transitions to cougar status, I don't know yet.

How are we supposed to feel? Men have their own issues, I'm sure. I just know the woman part a bit more intimately.

And if you're a woman, this clashing and thrashing of physiological and social changes makes you a walking, talking bomb of emotion. You need only light a match in a thirty mile radius and it's 'go time.' Suddenly, the littlest incidents and matters become cataclysmic and wait for it, you make irrational the newest fashion state.

It's the battle that will wage over the next 20 years, "I'm too young to be old, but I'm too old to be young" phase. We near-30s can't really hang with the young 20s and fit in yet we're not ready for 4 pm dinners and if you're a professional, you're not gonna be the CEO yet.

If you're in college, you're positioned in what I consider tantamount to that "I have no desire to talk in class so I'm going to pretend to take notes to fit in" part. You revert from the enthusiasm of discussion or ass-clowning that made you popular before and really, you're not ready to tap out yet either. However, your position in life has forced you to become a part of not one, but two generations and you have very little bandwidth for hearing at all, let alone making class lectures a priority.
You're too busy balancing your work load, children, and social life. The rest of your time is spent worrying about the former three along with your physical and emotional state which you constantly have to check against what everyone else is doing.

Unless you're 30 year-old expert. And if you are, call me.

The 30s and near-30s are smack dab in that crevice that separates the family people from the professional people and the 'both people' really don't weigh in until 35 when all the emotional crap is starting to subside and the path has been somewhat smoothed by those who fell before them.
(Note - this is my unchecked, unsolicited perception, nothing more.) :)

I gotta say, this whole turning 30 thing scares me to death. I have the emotional tolerance I had at 15 or 16 and yet, I have the responsibilities of a 40something. I feel like I'm perpetually playing dress-up and can't really find a costume or outfit that fits perfectly. It's reminiscent of those days in middle school when I still wasn't quite sure I was a girl until someone smacked me on the behind or whistled in my direction. At the time, I was still considering tomboy as a lifestyle which by the way, isn't the decision I made.

And I'm glad for that.

Turning 30 is a rocky time. You start questioning your decisions and yet you challenge every decision and option you had up to this point. It's the pivot point on the see-saw, your second shot at puberty. And you better make up your mind before you wake up and it's 40. (Ladies, that's the last biological tick time by the way.)

I have to tell you, honestly, I didn't think turning 30 would be a big deal for me. I can laugh about a lot of the indecisive, push-pull situations I encounter as I age, but I have found that it affects me a lot more than I'd like it to affect me. Conversations about children and careers and home life take on a heightened meaning, but that heightened state doesn't make much sense yet. I find myself questioning every decision I make, even the right ones. (Do I eat the rest of the M&Ms? Yes or no....NO.) :)
And I've started re-evaluating how people perceive me, if I am giving off the right vibes or the best impression. I've become suddenly introverted and quiet where I used to be more of a live-wire. Hmmm...

My goodness, when is it really okay not to care what other people think?! Ha ha.

And so I'm hoping that as my 30th approaches, that I'll get some of this figured out. Maybe figure out where I'm headed in a grander scheme, not just "after work, then yoga, then dinner, then study,..." and so on.

I'm at the place where the To Do list has to expand and yet, I'm not ready to change my insurance policies or buy a Buick. :) I also don't want to watch The Hills or Twitter much either. Hmmm...wait, stop...what lies between?

To me, it seems a bit of a chasm awaiting fodder for fun, discussion, and memories. And most of us are just poised to make it happen.
:)

On Turning 30: Part I - Reciprocity

In less than one month, I will turn 30 years-old. I have decided that now is the best time to write a series coined "On Turning 30." Appropriate? I think so. Over the past several months, turning over this milestone blasted to the forefront of my brain and has made everything in life seem just a bit more poignant. I remember last year saying "Thirty? No big deal. Age is a state of being." By the way, that's crap.

When a woman is about to become 30 years-old, it sets off a mindset that can somewhat shadow everyday experiences - rather - sheds a little emotional cast on things like getting groceries, going to work, driving, relationships, friendship, etc... Part one is dedicated to what I call relationship reciprocity. I've discussed this before, but as I age, my position on its necessity and importance is more serious.

Reciprocity? For those new to the concept, this means sharing, a balance set amongst or between people. It's at the core of the feng shui in any given circumstance. Let's start at the beginning...

In life, there are givers and there are takers, the latter being the easiest to define first. Why? Well, they TAKE. Whatever energy exists out there by opportunity, they seize it. Find a dollar on the sidewalk? It's theirs. You have five minutes? They'll talk. "Anyone want the other half of my sandwich?" Gone. It's that simple. These are the carpe diem people. To a degree, self-motivated and self-centered, they have to be respected because they have the innate ability to prioritize themselves, and to their credit, near or at the top, of their responsibility list. They're not out there waiting for an offer, they're just flat-out taking it. Takers aren't necessarily jerks, they're just tuned in to what they want and make that priority number one.

The yang of this equation are the givers. (Christian upbringing? You're more likely to be a giver unless some friendly atheist steered you oppositely.)

Givers are a breed of people who well, don't take. Or if they take, they take infrequently and usually take the smallest piece. The dollar on the sidewalk? They've turned it in or donated it. Your five minutes? They're all ears. Other half of a sandwich? Nah, they're not hungry. Givers are out there taking pride and joy in donating parts of themselves all over the place for the 'greater good' or the 'good of someone else.' They tend to live simply, require little of people, and take their time earning achievements. They pride 'fairness' and 'justice' and 'peace.' Unfortunately, the "I" in this equation is so far buried on the 'to do list' that givers tend to neglect themselves. They don't sleep, take personal time, or really say 'stop' when the time comes.

They make shitty managers, by the way. They're too busy worrying about how to help everyone else on the team.

What's the point? Every relationship - be it friendship, romantic, work, etc...is comprised of givers and takers. What has struck me as I approach 'middle age,' is just how much this affects whether or not any imbalance works or doesn't work in any given situation. Allow me to use an example that's close to home...

My sister and I are born and raised 'givers.' Told at an early age, "You don't hate anyone," and "Do unto others," we have both prided ourselves on being conscientious and the first to 'rush in and save someone' when needed. In school, we were the counselors for our friends. (I made this into a career, by the way.) As adults, we've found that always being reliable and responsible has gotten us, well, about 1 foot ahead of where we both were in high school. We're still the ones people want to talk to about their problems; still the ones who order the least expensive menu items; still the ones who hold our tongue for the sake of a situation...and so on. Know what? All that's earned us is one big whopping pound of resentment and frustration.

You see, givers have 'taker tendencies' only they're waiting the 'big pay off.' They're waiting to win the lottery; get the big promotion; have the rock star life by waiting patiently and doing for others, hoping it will, as they say, 'go around and come around.' Well dammit, I'm still waiting.

Does that mean the takers are perfect? Well hell no, but I have to respect their natural instinct for caring for themselves first and foremost. What my sister and I have both learned is that in doing for others our entire lives (up to this point) is that very few people really know us. People aren't compelled to ask us questions, we're too busy listening and they're too busy talking. They're not compelled to help us out with projects because well, we've already done them and submitted the finish product to everyone else for approval.

Do I have a point? I thought so when I started this blog entry, but what I have learned is the importance of balance. It becomes more significant as we age. We all want to be loved and accepted and treated as we would treat other people. And it doesn't always happen. What I've found as I reach 3.0, is that it's better to have fewer friends and more rewarding, balanced relationships than anything else. I don't' care if I do have over 300 friends on Facebook or Myspace, there are less than 100 that know me well. Less than 10 I'd call in an emergency or rely on for help. It's less about fitting in than it is about what you can get and give in relationships as you become an adult.

As I age, I'm more concerned with respect and reciprocity in relationships than anything else. I want the support of my peers and the balance in the three primary relationship facets of my life. To me, this starts with spending quality time with me (alone) and quality time with those upon whom I can depend. Perhaps you go through this yourself? I think we all do, despite age.

And I'm finding, the less I fit in, the better. I still like to give, but I now make a concerted effort to do so when I feel good about it, not just to help someone who is just going to ask me again, for help.

And for takers, it hurts a little when someone isn't there to accommodate. And for givers, it sucks that much more when you realize that once you stop giving, a relationship ends completely because the other party, well disappears.
Quick anecdote:
I had a friend once, someone I genuinely cared for and respected. I was on her speed dial for emergencies. We shared fun times. We had a blast at parties and shared mutual interests. Thing was, I made all the social plans. I set up all the conversations. I asked all the questions. One day, I stopped. Just to see what would happen.

She hasn't called me since.

C'est la freaking vie, as they say. :)

But we learn from it. Ideally, we're all a little part-giver, part-taker. We all contribute and we all take away. Check yourself.
What's your percentage?


I'm curious.

Part II to come...soon. :)

The Lunch Room's Back: Adult e-Drama

When I was in middle school, finding a place to sit during the lunch hour was the most socially awkward and difficult task during the first week of classes. As a sixth grader, I realized quickly that my elementary school pals were in different lunch periods and when gaping at a room predominantly mixed with older schoolmates, trying to find a familiar face and in turn, a seat, was a challenge.


Back then, I was five foot going on gangly and equipped with a full mouth of silver braces. I had bangs, bad clothes, and a backpack full of books that I was afraid I wouldn't have time between classes to leave behind in a locker. I was relieved when a table of seventh graders took mercy on me and beckoned me over.

These girls became my lunch pals for a semester and allowed me to adapt in a sea of unfamiliarity so that later, when I was in eighth grade, I could return the favor to another pal in good faith knowing that this positive cycle of friendship and acceptance could indeed, transcend all the nasty that can be junior high. (Mind you, this was the early 1990s so this particular breed of nasty is somewhat nostalgic.)

So forgive me if I grew up thinking one good turn deserves another. My ideological and romanticized interpretation of 'do unto others' is perhaps not the norm in today's instant gratification society (I waited 2 1/2 full years to return the favor!? What?!), but I have to say that as an adult, nothing can quite prepare you for eDrama.

The Internet, via social networking sites, has become an adult's virtual playground in which he or she can reenact being a bully, a puss, or a wallflower from middle school. We don't have the luxury of class times and teachers and principals with paddles long ago embossed and framed (when capital punishment officially died), to reign us in - keep us off each other. Can't slap your coworker or your friend for something nasty in person? Hit 'em on Myspace. Discredit them on Facebook. Blog about it. Hate a bit a more? Submit an Urban Dictionary definition just in case they ever want to date again.

Pissed because someone's more popular than you are? E-stalk them on Facebook and dig anything you can to obliterate them at work, in school, at parties, in church,...you name it. Because my goodness, someone's 'e-mood' certainly confirms what he or she is thinking second-to-second. (Hello - We have Twitter for that!)

It's bad enough that employers and potential employers plow the social networking sites, eliminating the 'chaff' from their stacks of resumes, but it's far worse to watch adults abuse one another in such a passive-aggressive manner when a simple "let's talk about it" would suffice.

Couples over-analyze daily status reports in hopes of catching one another in some misdemeanor in the relationship. Friends backbite one another and de-friend and befriend each other as the seasons change. Have an ethical issue you want to challenge your coworker about? Blog the hell out of their Facebook wall when you see political commentary. It's Facebook afterall, you can "like" anything you like and "delete" whatever you don't. Right?

Wrong. Some of these antics online are akin to shoving someone off the balance beam or giving someone a wedgie. All relegate you, as a person, to what we called at Carlin Park Elementary, "the bad box."

Have an issue with someone at church? Why tell them?! Read their Facebook or Myspace long enough and you'll achieve fodder to obtain their excommunication - get 'em thrown down from the pulpit, by God. Want to have someone excused from a committee? Look at their Myspace photos and pray for drunk ones.

It's all juvenile and pre-pubescent activity to me. And it's hilarious. Hysterical actually.
Daddy no longer needs to buy a BMW Z3 at 55 years-old, he can just get Facebook and troll the web for $75,000 less. He can spend the extra cash on a new head of hair or calf implants. (Though I beg him to take caution when the country finally, FINALLY, moves away from dial up and gets high speed. Mama's gonna have a laptop too.) They will eventually duke it out by whether or not they post "married" on their profiles.

Want to spy on your kids? A host of parents are now trolling the Internet to catch their children in the proverbial "act" all the time. (note - I think some of this is okay, frankly. It's a jungle out there!)

Not a bully by nature? Social networking sites are perfect for being a victim too! You can spend hours reading into Facebook posts hoping or thinking they're about you. You watch as two people converse and leave you out of the cyber conversation. Better yet, read into a survey your friend writes and see if the "Who's your best friend?" answer doesn't read YOU.
It's easy to hate the world when your view exists only between your seat and the 19 inches in front of you.
(computer screen, hello!)

And I have to laugh, because I've fallen into this before a few times and though I'm incredulous about how social networking has in many ways, replaced the phone, replaced email, replaced sharing in person, I see how it gets popular.
It recreates grade school for those of us who didn't quite survive it unscathed or without a few bridges left to burn.

When I was in fifth grade, someone shoved me off the balance beam. I fell off, arching wildly, slapping my back on the beam before hitting the ground in a heap. At the time, a few kids stood by and watched as I struggled to breathe before a recess monitor rushed to ensure I lived. I think today, I'll post on Facebook: "Dana Barrett got shoved of the balance beam."

Wonder how many will respond with "I like this."

Guess we're all still working on growing up a little...

:)