Thursday, June 24, 2010

Templates, irony and random musings

The irony of it all.  I just had to do it.....I was perusing the new Blogger templates and I found this one.  It's RAIN on a window.  HA HA HA HA.  It is Not a "sunny day"!  Or is it?
Sometimes I really enjoy a rainy day.  I mean, I enjoy the sun too, but the rain can be nice.  A slow, steady rain, pelting gently against the windows, soaking into the ground for a natural flower watering.  I enjoy it most on a warm summer day.  I even enjoy running in the rain on days like that, though usually I am working.

There are so many lovely templates to choose from.  I'll keep this one for a little while, at least until I feel a need for shift in my Blog feng shui.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Goals and Goal Setting.....my perspective, that is

Yesterday I heard the following exchange between two women a young lady with whom I am familiar and another (an attorney) who I had not previously met:
(A) Attorney: "So, what did you do before this job?"
(YL) Young lady: "Oh, I was a paralegal."
(A) "Really? So, what are your goals now?  Do you have any goals?"
(YL) "No, not really.   I don't have any goals, I mean, this opportunity came along and I decided to take it."
Upon speaking with "YL" after the exchange took place, she informed me that she felt rather silly leading this woman to believe that she had no goals in life.  While she was amused, she felt uncomfortable with the likelihood that this woman was passing judgement on her perceived lack of gusto.  We had a nice chuckle at the probable thought process of the attorney.  Maybe something like, "oh, this poor girl.  She had such a future, now here she is running around carrying papers and getting coffee with no real goals."  On the surface, it may seem exactly that way.  YL may have had a promising legal career ahead of her.  She may have continued her studies and become a high powered attorney, making history with her legal prowess.  Or not.  Who knows and who cares.  YL saw an opportunity in front of her, one that she saw as an exciting adventure (btw, I really can't say what she does, so suffice it to say that it is not a job for just anyone) on which she felt a calling to embark. 
The reality of YL's scenario is that she does, in fact, have goals.  Now, we did not go into a detailed discussion of her long term life plans or anything, but in our brief chuckle over her conversation with the attorney, we did focus on the goals of the moment.  At the moment, ("moment" meaning "this point in time" generally speaking) her goal is to be the best that she can be at whatever it is that she is doing at the time.  An admirable goal, I think.
All of this lead me to ponder the premise of "goal setting".  What exactly does this mean, how important is it, to whom, and why?  Books by "experts" have been written on this subject.  I am not an expert goal writer, or an expert anything, for that matter.  I do, however, have some thoughts on the subject.
Some may argue that goals must be measurable and being the best that one can be at a given time is not directly measurable and therefore cannot be a goal.  Okay, perhaps, but who are we to challenge someone else's goals?  
I am a part of a Martial Arts program in which we often tell students (and as students, are reminded) to set goals, write them down, keep track and then raise the bar as we achieve those goals.  We don't question one-another's mission, as we are all involved in the Martial Arts for our own personal reasons.  We do, however, help to motivate one another to become stronger, quicker, more fluent Martial Artists, and to carry these skills into our everyday lives.  We encourage one another to be the best that we can be and we give one another the space to do so in our own time and in our own way while simultaneously "raising the bar" for ourselves and each other.  The goals that I refer to here are measurable in some way and they are ever changing.  
     So what of the non-measurable goals - those times of “flux” where we are just working to be the best that we can be?  In my mind, this is perfectly acceptable.  I will refer to this as a “tweener-time”.  A time in which we are still working, moving, and living life one day at a time.  A “floatation” time, if you will.  I hesitate to say a time of waiting, because that implies a lack of doing.  I will say a time of being instead.  This might be a time in which we are entering into a new venture with unknown opportunities, or it might be a time just after we have accomplished something that we have been working toward.  It could be any time.  The important thing is that we sometimes need these down times to reflect, regroup and reassess our personal plan.  It is during these times that we are allowing ourselves to be the space in which we can grow and learn and be certain that we are headed in a comfortable direction.  (By “comfortable”, I mean a direction that resonates well within us.)
     An important point to keep in mind, however, is that we might be well served to limit the amount of time that we spend in these “tweener-times”.  I certainly would not give a time-frame, as we are all different.  However, the measure that I like to use is my own level of restlessness.  Personally, I tend to get antsy if I am not working on or toward something specific.  I am learning, however, to embrace the “tweener-times” and use them to my advantage by reflecting and reassessing, then preparing for the next endeavor.   I would say, then, that when restlessness begins to set in, that may be a good time to sit down and plot out a list of goals, plans or intentions.  To use a phrase that I have heard on more than one occasion lately, “write your life plan in pencil”; Or, write out your list of goals, plans or intentions in ink, but be open to the possibility of shifting gears and directions as life moves along.  
In other words, be open to recognizing and seizing opportunities as they come along.   Who wouldn’t want to do that, you might wonder.  I think that most of us want to be open to and recognize opportunities, but sometimes those opportunities are mistaken for roadblocks.  Sometimes, as we travel the pathway to our goals or intentions, we come across some sort of obstacle.  Whether it is physical, emotional, spiritual, alien, or some other entity, the very “thing” that seems to block our path may, in fact, be a doorway to a new beginning.  Whether a roadblock or a doorway, this bump in the road is an opportunity for us to learn and grow.  It very well may turn out that, after stepping through the doorway and achieving a specific goal, we look back at the obstacle and realize that it was vital to the achievement of our goal.  
For instance, I have been working on this post for a couple of days now.  I have encountered many bumps along the way that have precluded me from completing it.  However, each of those bumps has provided me with another bit of insight into what I want to say and how I might say it.  My current, immediate goal is to finish writing this and get it posted!
So here are the bullet points:  (each of which, of course, could easily have an entire chapter devoted to it.)
--  Goals are good whether they are broad and vague to the outsider or are daily/weekly/monthly goals/plans.
--  It is important to allow ourselves to be the space for ourselves and others to achieve and or modify our/their goals.
--  It is important to give ourselves the freedom to “move” and/or shift our focus and our goals
--  Be willing to recognize and seize the opportunity - roadblocks vs. doorways.
What is actually happening with YL is that she has given herself some leeway in her life plan.  She began one path and when a new doorway opened, she remained flexible and followed it.  She has an overview map of the area and is willing to travel previously unchartered territory on her journey through the land.  This, I think, is something that we could all do.  In fact, I think many of us do this, though we may find ourselves resisting a potential opportunity because we see it as an obstacle in our path rather than a doorway to a new journey.  So, let us all embrace our willingness to see the doorways, gather our thoughts and lists of goals and journey together on the Pathway that is before us.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

It's All So Clear NOW

Do you ever get the feeling that you are playing a constant game of "catch up"?  Don't worry, that's a rhetorical question.  I feel like this nearly every day.  Always one (or more) steps behind on my "to do" list for the day. 
I know, I know, that's not a very positive way of looking at things.  Pretty much goes against the grain of everything I like to say when speaking from my soap box.  Alas, I speaketh the truth (my truth, as it were).
I think that today I figured out exactly why I am always a task or two behind schedule. 
Aside from the fact that I am certain that I have "Adult A.D.D." (for instance, while cleaning the bedroom, which should consist of dusting and vacuuming, I often find myself constructing a new piece of furniture or rearranging the room), something always comes up.
This evening's adventure sums it up quite nicely.

The background:

My lovely wife baked a banana bread/cake for my co-worker (our neighbor and kind gentleman who looks after our dogs and house when we are away and simply one of the nicest people I have ever or will ever meet.)  She asked my to take it over to him.
 
Here's how it went:
The Beginning:

I grabbed the loaf, stuck it in a bag, grabbed the keys and went to the garage to pump up my bike tires.  (successful on all accounts)
I hopped on my bike and off I went.  I peddled furiously for the 3 blocks that it takes to get to his house.  Knowing that he was at work, I thought it would make sense to "break in" - i.e. enter the house via the door by using a key to open it.  Earlier in the day I had gone over to leave some keys for a vehicle and they were still there....(this is foreshadowing, folks....just not very subtle.  It is also important to note that I have about 6 different sets of keys to different vehicles, houses, offices, etc.  Some are combined, some are not.  Please also note that I did NOT have a cell phone with me.)  Yep, I could probably just stop here, but that would be no fun, so I shall continue.

The Arrival:

I hopped off of my bicycle and trotted happily into the sunroom.  I pulled out my wad of keys and proceeded to jam some keys into the door knob.  (one at a time, of course.)  None worked.  Probably because they were the keys to the back door of MY house.  So, I placed the loaf so gently on the table and hopped back on my bike to peddle home and retrieve the "proper" set of keys.  Surely his house key must be on the other key ring.  Off I went.

Back Home:

I ran in, grabbed the other keys and zipped back over.  (btw, bicycle safety....always wear a helmet!!)

The Re-Arrival:

I hopped off the bike and trotted back into the sunroom, certain that I had the right keys this time.  (still no phone with me, btw, though I did hear a "voice" when I left my house the second time saying, "Wait, grab your personal cell....grab it....I'm serious....you should get it."  To which I responded, "huh, yeah ok, whatever", and off I went Sans phone.)
Needless to say, this was also the wrong set of keys.  Not a one would even fit in the door.  Then it occurred to me.  The door key was attached to the car key that I had brought over and "hidden" earlier in the day.  Duh!  All those trips for nothing.  It had been here the whole time!  As Stevie (formerly known as "Baby-Ruth" in this Blog) would say, "Mommy, you're so SILWY!"
So, I retrieved said keys and, being quite proud of my detective skills and sneakiness of dropping off a prized loaf of Banana Goodness to an unsuspecting pal, I let myself into the house.

The Incident:

As soon as I opened the door, I heard it.  A lovely feminine voice saying, "System Armed.  Disarm System Now", followed by "BEEP BEEP BEEP".  "Back door open. Disarm System now."  "BEEP BEEP BEEP".
So I said, "*(&&^&%***@@@#$%^&^*)*()#)"  Then I spun in a circle looking for a phone that I knew wasn't there.  I then recalled seeing a little flip phone in the car in the driveway.  The car that I had the keys for......PERFECT!!!  I grabbed the phone to call home and get a phone number to call the my pal whose house I had just entered.  Luckily I was able to get through and get the numbers as the alarm was screeching at me in the background.  Unluckily, it was a prepaid cell phone and I had used up the rest of the minutes with that one call.
CRAP.
So, I relocked the house, let the alarm keep screaming at me, and peddled furiously back home to get my cell phone.  (btw, it is a very rare occasion indeed that I don't have at least one, if not TWO phones attached to me.  Of course this is the time I pick to go without technology!)
Faster than the wicked witch going after Toto, I zipped back home, grabbed my phone and dialed. 
I have to confess.  I was talking on the phone while riding.  No, it wasn't hands free.  One hand on the handle bar, the other on the phone, holding it to my ear as I peddled and breathed heavily, hoping to get back with an alarm code before the police showed up and tackled me to the ground.  (This is why it is important to wear a helmet!)
I made it back, re-entered and keyed in the alarm code.  The plan was to escape and be on my way prior to the arrival of the "locals".  That didn't go as planned either. 
Just as I was "sneaking" back out of the house, there they were......the "locals"......out front and coming my way.  Not that it mattered.  I mean, really, how much was I going to get away with on a bicycle anyway?
Thankfully, I had the password and aside from a bit of embarrassment on my part and the loss of the banana bread surprise, there was no harm done and we all went on our merry way.

I'm hoping that is the best friggin' banana bread that my lovely lady has ever made!  (and I'm sure it is.)
So you see, it's not that I procrastinate and make myself fall behind in my "chores".  It's that the universe likes to give little quizzes and drop hints to us just to see if we are paying attention.  There are too many points to mention at which I could have made a teensy tiny turn to avoid all such chaos, so I shall leave it up to interpretation.

And so we have Clarity.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

All in a Day's Work

My day began the other morning in the typical manner: wake up, groggily get a cup of freshly ground and brewed coffee (mmmm), shower, get dressed, make breakfast (note, the last two usually occur simultaneously), grab the goodies and run out the door. And so began my adventures.  


Arachniphobicoffeeia  
 
I made my way east, continuing my routine with a coffee pick-up at a "local" Dunkin Donuts. It is at this point that I generally, uneventfully, make use of the restroom. This morning, as I was doing what we ("we" meaning "potty trained humans) do in the porcelain throne room, I saw him. Right in front of me and coming fast; large, black, and hairy, he was coming right at me.  
Faster and faster - it was definitely Aragog! I know they showed his "character" dying in one of the films, but he is out and about ladies and gentlemen!  
As he got closer and larger, it was all I could do to keep from shrieking and running out of the restroom into the parking lot, pants (with all of the attached equipment - those who know what I do know what is attached) around my ankles, hoping against hope that I wouldn't trip and fall and be woven into an intricate web of ARAGOG cuisine. I was, however, frozen, partly due to fear - mostly due to the fact that I really had to pee. I'm sure he smelled my fear. It was one of those moments where time seems to slow down, unfortunately it didn't slow for Aragog. He kept coming at me and I couldn't stop peeing.  
Closer and closer he came; he just kept coming. He was nearly to my right shoe, just millimeters away from my toes, when I finally managed to grab my belt and all it's attachments and leap to safety. I put myself back together faster than Harry can create a patronis charm, washed my hands and I was OUT OF THERE!  
I slammed the door shut behind me to make sure the 8-legged giant didn't come after anyone else. I am certain that the entire eastern seaboard was saved by my courageous act of door slamming. He was, after all, at least the size of a quarter!  


The Squeegee  


Fully recovered from the Aragog incident, I continued on my way and began my search for a squeegee. You see, there are not only gigantic (quarter-size or larger) spiders here in the great Garden State, but also humming bird (or larger) size flying insects which I am fully convinced are filled with tar and purposely fly into the car windshield. Due to the many miles spent traversing the roadways up and down the state, it became imperative that I locate a squeegee.
     I stopped at the first logical place I saw - a gas station.
    The 105 year old attendant was more than happy to assist me.
     I didn't see the usual squeegee on the pump set up, so I said, "Excuse me, Sir, do you have a squeegee?"
     He seemed to be looking in my general direction, so I took that to mean that he did know that a voice had spoken.
     "Hi", I said as I raised my hand in a friendly neighborly sort of way. "Do you have a squeegee for my window?"
     He made a motion with his arm in the general direction of the pump behind me as his vocal cords resonated with a low rumble. I walked toward the pump but still didn't see the squeegee. Meanwhile, the gas-man was assisting another customer with the refueling of his truck. I wandered aimlessly about for a couple of seconds, then decided to try again.
     "Excuse me, I'm sorry, I don't see the squeegee. Where is it again?"
     This time, the ancient fellow gestured toward the building.
     It occurred to me that I must have misjudged the direction of his first gesture, so I sheepishly made my way toward the doorway. I fully expected to find a squeegee and bucket right in front of me, ready for my tar-bug removal project. However, all I found were boxes and a broom handle, minus the broom.
     Now the frustration was beginning to set in. Was this guy just not understanding what I was saying, could he not hear me, or was he just toying with my emotions? Just then, the driver of the freshly fueled work truck piped in.
"What do you need?" he asked, as though he hadn't heard my pleading requests for a squeegee the whole time he was watching his gas get pumped.
     "Oh, I was just looking for a squeegee for the bug-covered windshield, but they don't seem to have one here."
     "Did you try windshield washer fluid?" He asked.
     "Huh?" I muttered intelligently.
     "You know, washer fluid? For the windshield? You put it on there and it helps clean the window?"
     "Yes, I know what it is", I retorted, "but I still need a long object to clean it. My arms just aren't that long." (For the visual, I was dressed in a business suit and driving a large SUV, so the option of cleaning the windshield without an extension of my arm was just nonexistent.)
     "No", he said, "I mean use the windshield wipers. You put the fluid in the tank, then you squeeze the little button and the windshield wipers clean it for you. Did you try that?"
     Unable to bite my tongue any longer, I said, "Sir, I'm not an idiot. I know how to use the windshield wipers and the cleaning function. I have tried that about 10 times and these tar-filled bugs do not come off that way. It will require some scrubbing."

     "Why would you have a squeegee? Is this your gas station? I mean, do you work here?"
     "No, I don't work here, but this is my truck," he said, pointing to the large work truck next to the gas pump.
Not completely sure how to respond, I said, "Oh, ok. Well, I certainly am not expecting you to have the equipment to clean my windshield."
     "Ok, let me see what I have." 

He said this with a tone of utter annoyance, as though I had asked him to use his tongue to clean the bugs from my windshield.  
"No, really sir, it's ok."  
"Fine, just a second, let me just see if I have any glass cleaner," he grumbled as he pulled open his side container door and began to rummage through is things.  
Still not understanding why my windshield project had become so personal to him, I assured him that there was no need for him to dig through is things and that I really didn't have time to continue my quest. He seemed very annoyed and frustrated, but I had no time to help him with that. I hopped back in the car and the tar-bugs and I quickly departed the scene.  
I have no idea why my inquiry into the existence of a squeegee caused such confusion with one (very old) man and such an attempt at martyrdom in another. All I know is that the next time the windshield is covered in bugs, I'm just going to clean it with my sock. It will be less stressful for everyone.  


Sock Puppet??  


Later this same day, the bugs and I and our passengers were stopped at a traffic light. I noticed that the driver of the car in front of us seemed to be in a heated conversation based on the movements of his head. I also noticed that there seemed to be no passenger, so figured he must be on the phone.  
Then, I saw what appeared to be a tiny head in the center of the car. A closer look, (aka, slight lean forward and a squint) revealed something quite interesting. I saw with a tiny bit of surprise and a large dose of certainty, a SOCK on the man's hand.  
Yep, I was certain that he was talking to a sock puppet.  
I stared, dumbfounded. Really? A person talking to a sock puppet? Alone, in the car? Did he think that would count as a passenger for the HOV lane??  
I squinted through the tar-bug splatters and leaned forward to get a better view of the puppet show. My line of sight cleared a bit as I leaned around one of the larger splatters and then I just felt plain silly and rather disappointed.  
There was no sock puppet. No puppet at all. It was just his hand and a cell phone. He may have been talking to the hand, but at least it was holding a communication device, not wearing a sock.  
Crap, I thought. If only that guy would have had a squeegee in his truck.......and then the light turned green.