My Annual Most Un-Christmasy Post of All

The Christmas spirit feels more elusive to me with each passing year. I am trying to go through the motions but I haven't gotten very far yet.

The lights are up, the decorations are out and my address book is sitting on top of a box of Christmas cards. Writing always pushes me through the part where I think I don't want any part of this season.

I don't enjoy shopping anywhere during the month of December. I feel there should be an express lane for those of us who are not inundated with Christmas shopping, Christmas groceries and/or anything Christmas related.

I am so grateful for the fact I don't have any Christmas related functions to attend. No need to worry about  hair, shoes, nails or a sparkly new outfit (or dusting off an old one), I am so relieved I have created a life where my social calendar in December really doesn't feel all that much different than the eleven months which preceded it. I cringe when people talk of all the Christmas functions they must attend. It is just not my cup of tea.

I'm looking forward to ten consecutive days off during the holidays. I'm looking forward to a relaxed family supper with my own little family. I'm looking forward to going out to see Mom and hopefully have the chance to see a few friends while I'm out there.  I am looking forward to a break from the routine. But Christmas itself? Not really a big deal.

I like an excuse to reach out and visit a few people via my Christmas letters. I love getting Christmas cards in the mail. The lights are pretty and (again) I'm really looking forward to some time off. But other than that, the Christmas hype is lost on me.

Let the gifts of the season be harmony within our relationships, treating each other with kindness and respect, being generous with our praise and letting others know how they impact your world in a positive way. But let's not save it just for Christmas. Let's share the joy, the kindness, the praise and respect the following eleven months as well.

I used to feel I did a better job at that. I'm losing ground with keeping in touch with people. I used to be better than I have become.

There is an idea of a "Grateful Jar" that I have stumbled upon a few times recently. Rather than making New Years resolutions, you keep track of the good things that happen throughout the year then you dump the jar full of your notations at the end of that year and reflect on all the good things that happened throughout the year.

I'm thinking an empty jar, with a little stack of notes would make a perfect gift. In fact maybe I will just make one up for myself. I think I need to focus on gratitude a little more often. It honestly changes my whole outlook on life, my "self talk" and the way I react to the world in general.

Life "is" the way you perceive that. And speaking of that and since I don't seem to have an original thought in my head today, I'm going to leave you with this little note to ponder. Life IS the way you choose to "read" it:

~ Chanie Gorkin, an 11th grader from Brooklyn

Cher - Just ... Cher

I discovered Sonny & Cher in a Grade 7 classroom that was teaching I-don't-know-what, but I clearly remember one of my teachers holding up a magazine and pointing out Sonny & Cher, to make a point to demonstrate what he was teaching.

I forgot what I was supposed to be learning, but I started following Sonny & Cher and never did stop.

I spent hours upon hours singing my heart out in my best 'Cher' impersonation for the bulk of my teen years. I watched her nuances, hair flicks, the way she held the hand that was not holding the mike, her deadpan humor and I 'was' Cher.

I bought every record that I could find and was quite heart broken when Sonny & Cher divorced and their TV variety show went off the air (with no syndicated reruns nor DVD box sets to recapture the magic). They were simply ... gone.

Gone, but never forgotten.

I followed Sonny and Cher throughout the years that followed. I was pleased when Cher did so well on her own. I was disappointed for Sonny when his star started to fade.

As it turned out, Cher ended up being a great role model for me. She lived life-after-divorce out loud and continued down the path she was on and became so much more than "... & Cher".

Cher is glamorous. Without make up, long nails, costumes and all of her fame, she could be is one of us. She did not define beauty (of the skin-deep variety). She defined (for me) all that lies underneath the superficial outer layer. She embodied who we can become if we are brave enough to pursue it.

Cher could have shrivelled up into a memory of one half, of a once-famous duo after their very public divorce. But she didn't. She just kept singing her heart out and pursuing her goals.

That was back in the year 1972. Fast forward to last night. June 21, 2014. I was there. I saw Cher perform in her final, final "Dressed to Kill Tour".

Cyndi Lauper was her opening act (more on Cyndi another day!) and she set the stage in a relatively (only because we did not yet know what was to come) quiet way and took me back a few decades and reminded me of 'where I was' when I heard that song.

Then ... Cher!

You heard her voice but did not know where it was coming from. We had some (very) annoying curtains directly in front of where we were sitting and I just 'knew' that all of the action was going to happen behind that curtain. How could they sell seats when you couldn't even see? My cousin (who, Thank-You-Very-Much, invited me along with her to see Cher) barely uttered the words "I hope to see that curtain drop!" When it did ...

"Woman's World" was the song that set the stage for the next few hours of our life. Cher segued into "Strong Enough" and then sat down and chatted with us for a little while. 

After the crowd sang "Happy Birthday" to Cyndi Lauper (who is 61 years old), age was very much on one's mind. Cher answered the question that most of us wanted to know. "I'm 68! .... this IS my final, final tour ... and here I am standing atop a pedastal (?20?) feet in the air, with a piece of dental floss securing me ..." and she was going to sing and perform for us. "And what is YOUR granny doing tonight?!?" she asked. And she was off!

Just before the show, my cousin and I were talking of work, future goals, what retirement means to us and all-of-the-things-the-working-person seems to chat about. Retirement always seems to be the end goal.

Then, we are witness to two stars who are 61 and 68 years old, singing and dancing their hearts out in front of thousands and thousands of people every few nights. 

I could not help but wonder what Cyndi & Cher talk about amongst themselves when they are sitting in the quiet, away from the public eye. Do you think it would go like this?

Cyndi: I don't know, Cher. This is a tough gig but I really, really need the medical plan coverage. I've got to keep on going for at least one more tour.

Cher: Ya, I know, Cyn. After I finish up this tour, I think that my retirement savings will last me as long as I need. But if not, I could add some more shows to my itinerary...

Cyndi: But Cher, when are we really going to get to pursue our passion and wake up in the morning without all of the politics that go along with this job??

Cher: Gee, don't know, Cyn ... I have been doing what I have to do for so many years, I have forgotten what it is like to follow my dreams... (Big, audible sigh)

I think ... NOT.

At least I hope not. Don't you think that they are still out there performing because they are pursing their passion? 

Money must be a part of the equation, but honestly, the pressure that they are under every few days and the physical rigors of dancing and singing your heart out and be at the top of their game for each and every performance? That takes quite a toll.  The adrenaline rush must be a little bit addictive. The need for public acclimation ... after all of these years? I don't (personally) think so. These two 'girls' strike me as people who  are (or certainly appear to be) pretty okay with who they are.

I think they like us. They really like us ... and they are in it for their fans. Fame is such a flighty and fickle thing. For those who have withstood the test of time, do you think they want to honor those who have helped them become who they are? Or are they in it because they can't yet afford to retire?

Well, Cher? I'd love to sit down and have the type of conversation that I have with my friends with you, so you could shine a little light on my perception.

In the meantime, "I Hope You Find It" (what you are looking for). Thank you for sharing your talents with the world.

The Gift of Choice

I have been hard pressed to understand exactly why my weekends have created a small amount of anxiety within me.

Yes, I know that it is very simple to pinpoint the physical reasons. I am juggling a few too many responsibilities and the weekend seems to be catch up time. If it isn't one thing, it is another. My time is consumed.

But as I wandered through this morning with only precious few minutes of it left before my daycare family starts arriving, there is a difference in the air this morning. I do not have to leave the house today. Unless I choose to do so.

Chances are very, very high that I will make the choice to wander outside the confines of life-at-home. I love taking my little people out for a walk. We are limited as to what we can do and how far we can go. But we have the choice to go (thank you, Spring).

The difference about my weekends is the lack of choice. I must leave the house by a specific time. It doesn't matter how much or how little that I have to do before that predestined time rolls around, I find at least three more things to do before I run out the door. I have adopted the bad habit of arriving five minutes late to any and all weekend obligations. It is a sickness. It is like I am internally fighting this weekend-must-do-mentality by being late. As if my time is more important than someone else's. As I wrote the words, I heard my inner voice saying, "On the weekend?? It is ..."

I work for friends. They would completely and totally understand if I called them up at the last minute and cancelled. So showing up five minutes late is not the extreme faux pas that my mother has ingrained in me. But my mom has taught me well. Five minutes ... thirty minutes ... or not showing up at all. It is all a sign of disrespect. That is not the message that I am trying to send when I wander in five minutes late to each and every Saturday or Sunday morning job that I have.

Perhaps that five minutes buys me the gift of 'choice'. I do choose to go. But on my own conditions .... Nope. I'm not buying that either. The minute that I must do something, it changes my mind set.

Each and every time I work at any of the above jobs, once I am there I am more than happy to take on whatever job is set out before me. In fact, yesterday was almost fun. It was enjoyable. Thoroughly. At no point after I headed the car in towards the day I was about to live, did I have a moment of regret or foreboding. I want to do this.

I chatted with my 'Sunday Boss' yesterday and she is more than a little bit accommodating when it comes to making this work. As time goes on, I will be able to do more from home and the need to go out to her place will lessen. I don't know if that is a good thing or not. Because my home is already my 7:30 - 5:30, Monday to Friday place-of-employment. Any time that I have had extra bookkeeping to do from home, I do with the greatest of effort. I don't like mixing my scheduled down-time at home with another job. I do sort of enjoy the physical distance that separates me from my work.

So ... the reality is that given a choice, I would probably choose to work outside of my home verses having work bully its way into my weekend. At home.

But no matter which way I slice and dice it, as usual ... it is Monday morning and I am beyond grateful that my work is coming to me.

Given a choice? I choose to work from home. Doing what I am doing works best for me right now. Even when my out-of-home work obligations infringe upon the weekend ... it simply makes Monday morning feel better than ever.

When you wake up on a Monday morning and feel gratitude for the day and week ahead of you ... you know that you have chosen well. You are where you are meant to be. At least for now.

Life is an Art Form

We read the same words. We each pulled out the exact same quote to prove our point. The points we were trying to prove were at polar opposites of each other. Yet we each found our own version of the truth, within the very same sentence.

Everything we see, hear, write and live is defined by our past, our vision and our personal perception of what lies before us.

Timing is everything. I remember reading a fictional novel about teen pregnancy. Three times. Before, during and after my own pregnancy at a young age. It was the same book. The exact same words. But the story changed each and every time, because of what I was living at that moment.

Art. Movies. Music. Writing. Each and every form of art brings a unique and personal meaning to the person seeing/watching or reading it. Each individual brings their own story into the art form and translates it differently than the next guy.

So it is with life. What feels right to me today, may differ from what felt right yesterday. Or a year from now. I walk through my days alone and I share my experiences after the fact. I must make decisions that I can live with. Every day.

" 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something." ~ Steve Jobs

This quote means different things to different people. On different days. In different circumstances. How each person perceives what needs to be changed is as individual as their fingerprint. The 'truth' lies within the eye of the beholder.

Disjointed

The world through eye glasses is a totally different place to be.

I have had glasses since I was 6 years old. I should know of a life no different. But thanks to the world of contact lenses verses my recent attempt to get back to wearing glasses, there is a vast difference. At least to me.

I remember feeling disjointed and disconnected from the world a lot as a teen. There was a detachment from my brain and body and I perceived life ... differently.

I don't remember the exact time when this detachment became less noticeable but my instincts tell me it is when I got interested in life (boys) and started thinking outside of my own head. But at the very same time, I also got contact lenses.

Which brings me back to the point of my story. When you wear contact lenses (or don't need glasses to enhance your vision), you see the world through your eyes - not through the lenses of a pair of glasses. When you see life through your eyes, you have full peripheral vision. There is a feeling of seeing things directly, rather than through a pair of lenses set apart from your actual eye.

I have worn contact lenses for about 33 years. I wear my glasses after supper, if my eyes are sore or if I've lost a contact lens. I associate wearing glasses with times of rest or on an emergency basis only.

This past week, I have been sporting a new pair of glasses. All day, every day, as I try to adapt my eyes to the world of glasses again. It has been a very odd experience.

Number 1 - is the automatic relaxation/lazy/sleepy mode that I associate with glasses. I look at myself in the mirror and have the feeling that I'm ready for bed. I can fall asleep at any time once I'm in glasses. And I do.

Number 2 - is the 'ugly' association that I have of myself in glasses. I have honestly felt very ugly (since the last 'very bad haircut') the past few months. I never feel beautiful or even pretty. I usually simply feel 'okay' about the reflection in the mirror. And I'm okay with that. But after this sense of walking around feeling ugly, I was ready for a makeover. I thought glasses may work. And I think they did. Until my mom laughed at the Chuck E Cheese rendition of a pencil drawing of Kurt and me on the first day of our holidays (where I was wearing my old glasses and in my ugly hair) ... she said it didn't even look like me. I looked in the mirror and even though I was sporting my new, cool glasses and my newest attempt to try to grow 'past' this most horrible haircut in recent history ... I still look the same as that picture my mom laughed at. 'The ugly' phase is alive and well.

Number 3 - I don't feel like my new glasses are a good 'fit' for me. The eyeglasses totally interfere with my peripheral vision, they are much smaller than I am accustomed to so I am constantly pushing them up because it feels like I'm looking over them. So ... I've worn out the skin at the top of the bridge of my nose. Now it hurts to wear my new glasses.

Number 4 - is the detachment I feel when I wear glasses. It's back. I love looking at the world through contact lenses. It gives me the sense that I am seeing everything first hand - not through a set of lenses, which are set apart from my eyeball.

At the moment, I'm wearing my ugly, old glasses (which are comfortable on my face and give me the feeling of a full range of vision) because I wore my contact lenses yesterday until my eyes were red and uncomfortable (after a week's break from wearing them). I'm having a bad hair day and simply feeling disjointed, ugly and tired.

I would like to banish mirrors from my life. The reflection you see back in a mirror is not important. It's what's within a person that makes them 'beautiful'. But as I look at life this morning through my old, slightly blurry pair of glasses ... I am feeling ugly and disconnected. I think I'll try looking at life through contact lenses once again.