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On thinking about the future me….

/ micahdl / 3 Comments

It’s funny to think of leaving a legacy. Probably because I’ve always felt that I’m just too young to be thinking about it. My grandparents left (or will leave) incredible legacies, but they’re, well, OLD! The reality, though, is that their legacy began far before they were “old” (which is a stupid word to describe any of my grandparents because they, like my parents, refuse to let their minds age with their bodies. They’re amazing). It does make me wonder, though, what people will think of 50, 60, 70 years from now when they hear my name.

If I could choose what people would think, I’d want them to think that I was really successful; that I did something with my life that I was passionate about; that I raised good, decent, smart children; that I loved with reckless abandon; that I sang songs whenever I bloody well felt like it; that I didn’t fear; that I took adventures and traveled until I finally kicked it; that I was in the middle of the best joke ever when my family surrounded me when I died; that I didn’t give a hoot what anyone thought as long as what I was doing felt good and right (morally, ethically, emotionally); that my faith was evident, real, and not cliche; that I had friends from every part of my life; that I never gave up; that I fought hard for things I was passionate about.

Yeah. That’s what I hope people think of when they hear my name a bazillion years from today.

So now, it’s just a matter of living a life worth being thought of in those ways. That’s really the hard part, isn’t it? So many days go by when it doesn’t even cross my mind what someone might think of my life in the future. I do things that are wrong and ugly (take my road rage, for example) and I think things that my parents would be appalled by. Hey, it happens. I’m human, too, ya know.

Maybe it’s worth thinking about my legacy on a more regular basis. Maybe it would help me live a more productive and passionate life…

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On finding the time….

/ micahdl / Leave a comment

It’s not easy for me to lose track of time; let’s just put that out there. I’ve become known in my circle of friends as the person who can plan her life in 15-minute increments. I’m super Type-A and can admittedly be kind of a control freak sometimes.
So when I do lose track of time, it’s a big deal for me, personally. One of two things can happen: 1) I can completely lose my head and fall apart or 2) I find that I’m just enjoying something so much that I really don’t care. It’s hard to think of that last time I actually lost track of time. I’m constantly looking at a clock and wondering what time it is.
That said, I can be fairly certain the last time I didn’t care about how fast or slow a clock was moving, I was probably laughing hysterically. Those are my favorite moments in life. I have a couple girl friends that can reduce me to a mess of snorts and giggles and knee slaps in a matter of seconds. Those are the moments in which I really could not care less about what time it is. I crave those times of laughter and want them to last as long as humanly possible. I lose track of time when I’m with my closest, dearest friends. Being with those people remind me that life is more than a series of events that need to be gotten to, accomplished, and moved on from. There is a time and a place for organization and planning. But more importantly, there are times when turning off the phones and disregarding the clocks are crucial.
So if you’re like me, take a chance on not knowing (or caring) what time it is. And if you’re the opposite of me, remind us Type-A characters that taking time to enjoy life and get lost in it isn’t the worst thing in the world…in fact, it might be the best time we have all week…

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On radiation, love, and acceptance….

/ micahdl / 2 Comments
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the type of person that wants to look my very best nearly all the time, even when I’m camping. Call me crazy, but that’s how I’ve always rolled. Pretty everyone that’s ever known me knows this to be true. I took it to an extreme once when people started making fun of me for this and took a curling iron on a camping trip. It was a giant “F*** you!” to a lot of the people that had made fun of me and it was done in jest and irony, but I did it nonetheless (no, I never used it. I’m not that dumb).
For whatever reason, I always want to make sure I look my best, but I fail at that a LOT. This failure stems from my own feelings of inadequacy so where I fail, most people probably don’t even see it.
My lips are constantly chapped. I have rough, worked hands. My feet are vein-y and look weird. My breasts are approximately two sizes to small (I’m like the Grinch of boobs). I have a gut that I can’t seem to get rid of despite my best efforts. My cheeks are a little too wide, especially on one side, thanks to my molar removal surgery when I was 17. I have an inexplicable scar on my forehead that I try to cover with my bangs most of the time. I have bowed legs and am knock-kneed (yeah, it provides for good entertainment when I’m running…it’s worse than Phoebe, I swear). I have birthing hips and an ass that won’t quit.
On top of all that, I tend to speak my mind at inappropriate times. Sometimes I tell bad jokes and say things that I regret because they come out so much differently than I intend. I can be lazy and rude. I’ve been known to go for the cheap laugh. All of which are the product of some situation or another.
Junior high and high school were rough for me, like they are for so many people. I was anorexic and probably mildly depressed for a good few years (though few probably knew that). The one person who probably should have known never would have because I hid it THAT well. I don’t even think I admitted it to that person until well after high school and it was a painful conversation to say the least.
I still carry all of those issues and insecurities with me and I probably always will. But I’m coming to terms with the fact that I will never be perfect and, maybe more importantly, no one is expecting me to be. I read something the other day that struck a chord with me and resonates with a mantra that I want to carry with me always: A mother who radiates self-love and acceptance actually vaccinates her daughter against low self-esteem (Naomi Wolf).
I have a lot of issues and things that I think are “wrong” with me, but I don’t ever want any spawn of mine to think that he or she has to be anything they can’t, don’t want, or don’t need to be. So I’m working on trying to carry all my “mistakes” and insecurities proudly and be okay with all of them. I’ll still try to have a flat belly, but I’m not going to deny myself a good burger.
Like she said in “Eat Pray Love“: “I’m so tired of saying no and waking up in the morning and recalling every single thing I ate the day before. Counting every calorie I consume so I know exactly how much self-loathing to take into the shower. I’m going for it. I have no interest in being obese. I’m just through with the guilt. So this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to finish this pizza and then we’re going to go watch the soccer game, and tomorrow, we’re going to go on a little date and buy ourselves some bigger jeans.”
And now here’s a picture that maybe isn’t my favorite: 
 
Yep, bow-legged, crazy, and WHOA! Check out that five-head!
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On creative disasters….

/ micahdl / Leave a comment
The other day, my creativity came up in conversation with my husband. We’re both rather creative people, to be honest. He’s written several books and has come up with no less than three different universes for those books. It’s pretty amazing. I’m looking forward to hearing the stories he comes up with to tell our kids at bedtime (because, sorry honey…A Game of Thrones is NOT, I repeat, NOT an acceptable bedtime story for a toddler). He has a wonderful imagination and I never tire of reading his stories (especially the “love stories” that he writes when I ask him to).
My creativity lies in a different type of story-telling and even more in the ability to envision events and see them through to completion. Todd is forever going on and on about how he thinks I’m a great writer and that I should put that to use in the vein of story-telling. I’m not quite sure where he gets that idea. I tried writing a story once and it was kind of an epic fail. I’ve actually written a number of stories, all of them for one class or another. Fiction is a beast to write, no lie. It’s not my favorite thing to do by a long shot. My best story-telling comes when I’m simply re-telling a story that’s already happened (that, I can write some damn fine poetry).
My family is a huge mess of hilarious stories. I will never tire of telling stories of my dad’s many (MANY) home-improvement injuries or my brother’s travels or my sister’s inability to distinguish Queen from Def Leppard or my mom’s many years of teaching (and her inexplicable punch-dancing when I sing the “Team America” theme song). I guess if I wanted to write a book, something Todd is really itching for me to do, it would be something of a memoir based on my family. The problem there is the problem that comes with many memoirs: no one really cares (except maybe for the people mentioned in them).
My own life story is what can only be described as “beautiful disaster.” Seriously. There are so many points in my life that make me think, “Well, that wasn’t bright, was it?” or “How am I still alive?” or “What possessed me to think THAT was a good idea?” Those are really some of the funniest parts, even if they involve me admitting my own stupidity.
I doubt I’ll ever write a book, much less one about my family, but if you’re ever in the market for a good story, especially one that involves injury and mayhem, then I’m your girl.

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On being average….

/ micahdl / 2 Comments
There are a lot of times in life when I just want to be the best at everything, anything, whatever comes my way. I get this feeling in my gut when someone tells me I can’t do something that makes me want to be the best EVER and just go for it. This has happened with a lot of things…and I think my desire to prove myself started when I was about 12-years-old and I just never stopped. Being told that I can’t do something just makes me want to be the strongest, smartest, thinnest, fastest, generally the bestest at all of it.

Unfortunately, life often gets in the way and I simply don’t have the time or energy (or money) to make myself be the greatest. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all. Maybe, just maybe, our moments of sheer ordinariness are what makes us all so special. This constant barrage from media, peers, bosses, parents, everyone telling us that we have to be the best at something (or everything) just doesn’t make sense. Mostly, it doesn’t make sense because it’s just not possible. I’ll never have the prettiest house or the fanciest car or be the smartest at math or run the fastest 10K or be able to lift a bazillion pounds or have the flattest abs. I just won’t. And I think it’s high time that I decide that I’m okay with that.

Because my version of “ordinary” is not the same as yours, or anyone else’s. My “ordinary” makes me different. Where I am ordinary, someone else is remarkable (the bestest, even)…and the reverse is true as well. Maybe my ordinary is remarkable to someone else.

Not recognizing our own ordinary as often exceptional is discounting some of the greatest pieces of ourselves. It leads us to false expectations and crappy comparisons. It has the danger of making us feel like we’re somehow not worth it because there’s this one things (maybe even twelve things) we can’t do. So what? I’m struggling to find a good reason not to celebrate my ordinary, frankly. I won’t ever be good at math, so there’s no point in me frustrating myself to try. Rather, shouldn’t I focus on the fact that I’m incredibly organized and use THAT to push and motivate myself? I’ll probably never be able to run a marathon, but I can jog with my dogs and enjoy the time I have with them and my music. My house won’t ever be the prettiest one out there, but it’s certainly a home and I can revel in filling that home with little ones and memories.

My ordinary may very well be just that. But it’s MY ordinary and no one else’s ordinary will ever be like mine.

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On getting serious with me….

/ micahdl / Leave a comment
I recently read a post by Ash Ambridge via Erika Nepolitano (RedHeadWriting…really, you should check out both sites, because they’re pretty awesome gals) which was something of a wake-up call for me. For a long time, I’ve been flirting with a lot of career moves…well, I’ve been flirting with starting a career at all, frankly. I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life – TEN YEARS – simply having jobs. At 31-years-old, it’s high time I get my act together and start doing things that make me happy, things that I’m passionate about. And yes, I’d really like to make some money doing it.
It took (and will continue to take) some slaps in the face from life (and great writers and business people) to show me that there are things that I love to do and that I’m good at doing and that I should get paid to do. Wedding planning has long been something that I’ve loved. I’m good at it. I know I am. I’m efficient and organized, almost to a fault, which comes is really handy sometimes. But beyond simply weddings, I love planning events. Anyone that knows me, knows that I love to throw a party. It’s not really the party itself that I love (though I do thoroughly enjoy doing that); it’s the planning and the behind-the-scenes that I really get all up-in-arms about. Same goes for weddings. I revel in knowing the ins-and-outs of one of the most important days in a couples life.
So I’m making an executive decision that at the end of the summer, I’m going to take this whole wedding/event thing a lot more seriously. I want to get a designation; I want to make some money; I want to live every part of my life passionately and fully. I know it’s going to be quite the undertaking. I have no idea what any of it means. I know that it’ll essentially be a second job for a good long while. I don’t know the analytics behind it. But I know that I want to do it. And knowing is half the battle (thanks, GI Joe)…

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On feeling engaged….

/ micahdl / Leave a comment
I think we all have a path; some sort of destiny that we’re to fulfill. Some find their path much sooner than others. Some, like me, take their sweet time trying to figure out exactly what they’re supposed to do and when to do it. But with that, I think there are several paths that we’re all destined to take. Life is too long and too interesting to only take one journey, right? There are a few paths that I want to get going on (career and mother) and others that I’ve successfully completed (student) and still others that will be on-going, that my future paths will meet up with (daughter, sister, friend, wife).

Recently, I’ve been kind of focused on the “career” side of things. For a long time, I’ve felt like I’ve been living just A life and not MY life, in that regard. I wonder what it feels like to know that what you’re doing is what you’re meant to do. I watched the finale of the Oprah Show while I was in Boston and, damn. That woman is inspirational! She’s just a really good speaker. She spent much of the show talking about how what she’d been doing for the last 25 years was exactly what she knew she was always meant to do. I don’t know if that’s luck or skill or ingenuity or what, but it’s something. Whatever it is, we all have it in us to do what we’re meant to do.

Knowing you’re full of life comes with that territory. When we finally figure out exactly what we’re supposed to be doing, our life suddenly becomes engaged, as if we’re finally in-gear and can make things happen. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt fully engaged yet, but I have had moments that made me feel like I had just made a good decision. Like the time I quit a horrible job with no job on the horizon and only a couple grand in savings. It felt amazing to know I’d just done something really good for myself. Little moments like that crop up all the time, but I’m very curious to know what it feels like when that giant moment of recognition and engagement happens…?

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On living in the moment….

/ micahdl / 1 Comment
There are people that like surprises and people that loathe them entirely. I’m part of the group that likes them. In fact, I kind of love them. I think that probably has a lot to do with my propensity for organization and planning. When you have the capability of planning a day (nay, a LIFE) out in 15-minute increments, surprises are a welcome, well, surprise.

I hate when plans go awry or when wrenches get thrown into the mix…surprises of a bad nature are never welcome. I think most people would agree with that. I mean things like getting an unexpected email (or better, a card in the snail mail) or coming home to a clean house or having chocolates dropped off on my desk. I’m a huge fan of THOSE kinds of surprises. When I was planning my wedding, I left two rather important things to chance/surprise…the guestbook and my flowers. Yup. I left my flowers up to chance. I told the designer the basic idea of what I wanted and let her go to town. I never saw a single design that she’d planned, never saw what would be the finished product of a single flower until she brought them to the ceremony. Part of that was because I trusted her (and her impeccable portfolio) intrinsically and part of it was because, with all the planning, I knew every single detail of the entire day and knew exactly how everything would play out. There would be no mistakes, no surprises, nothing would happen without my express consent. And it didn’t. So those flowers…man, what a wonderful surprise that was! I damn near cried when I saw them.

None of that is really the point. The point, I think, is to allow yourself the chance to be surprised. I often tell people that they could tell me the end to just about any movie and if I end up actually watching it, I’ll still be surprised by the ending. Hell, Titanic was practically a surprise to me! Enjoying life’s happy surprises are part of my way of trying to live in the moment. So often, I get caught up in planning (and I assure you, I can plan w-a-y far in advance…like, years in advance) that I forget to enjoy the moments of NOW. So for those of you who hate surprises, I challenge you to let yourself start enjoying even the smallest ones. And those of you, like me, who live for the surprises, keep on keeping on…you never know when the next one will hit you!

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On the validity of life….

/ micahdl / Leave a comment
“It’s not like I subsist on external validation; but it is nice to get it from time to time.” – me

For a long time, I think I did subsist on external validation. It was like I had to hear from someone else that I was good enough or smart enough in order to really believe it for myself. It took a good long while (and some counseling) to finally start believing that I was good enough simply because I thought I was good enough.

Still though…it’s nice to hear it every now and again. I think if we’re all honest with ourselves, we all like to heard how good or smart we are at something, especially the things that are important to us. It’s part of being human, I suppose. The feeling of knowing we’re valued holds a lot of weight with us. We’re emotional beings; some of us wear emotions openly (I’m that person most of the time) and some of us can hide them, but at the end of the day, we all feel the emotions brought on by life.

Our day jobs are probably one of the biggest places we need to feel validated and worth it. We pursue more education and designations for our own well-being, sure, but we also pursue it in an effort to be noticed by the people that matter (read: the people that can increase our paycheck and our titles). We spend the majority of our time at our day jobs, so it becomes part of who we are. And knowing that we’re contributing to the overall growth of our company or business is something that a lot of us want to be a part of. Sometimes, that external validation falls flat…we simply aren’t recognized or rewarded. And that SUCKS. It just does.

The problem is when that lack of validation starts to permeate the rest of our life. We are more than our work. Despite how hard a lot of us work at our jobs, we are more than just designers and programmers and paper pushers and analysts. I’ve noticed, for myself, that a lack of validation in one area of my life can start to drastically affect the rest of my life. If I’m not a good “x”, then I must not be a good “y” or “z.” I mean, it’s not true, but the feelings happen. It’s in those moments that a) I am glad I have friends who will validate me and b) it’s time to take stock of things I am good at and that I love to do. I’m good at baking (I’m REAL good at baking); I throw a mean party; I’m organized (almost to a disturbing degree). I am a sum of very many parts; just because one part doesn’t always feel right doesn’t mean the rest aren’t exactly as they should be.

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On remembering the good times….

/ micahdl / Leave a comment

I feel like I’ve been doing a great deal of reminiscing lately. Sometimes, I really just like to think about the past and all the good things that happened there. Sure, there are plenty of parts about my history that I’d be happy to forget, but in the midst of all that crap, there are a lot of bright, happy, shiny moments. Those are the ones that I like to think about from time to time.

Do you ever have moments that you’d like to go back to? Portions of life that you’d really love to re-visit? I do. One that comes up for me is singing with my college choir in Minnesota at Christmas time. I assure you, that was one of the hardest years I’ll probably ever experience, but being with that choir was something that I relish. There were times that I absolutely HATED singing some of the things we did, but if you know me, Christmas time is something I kind of live for. And singing Christmas-y songs is something I’ll never tire of. I can remember pretty distinctly some of the feelings I had doing those songs and being with those people. A lot of happiness surrounds those few weeks and I loved it! That was also the time when there was something seriously wrong with one of my ears and, being that I was a broke college kid still being supported by my parents, I had no way of seeing a doctor in the dinky MN town I was living in. I realized during all of that, there was nothing that could keep me from singing. I tried to see the good in it. It was like one my ears was constantly plugged up so it was almost like I had a permanent monitor. It was annoying as all get-out, but I couldn’t seem to do anything about it so whatever. Fortunately, my mom was (and still is) a champion at scheduling all our doctor and dentist visits when one of us would come home from school at breaks so she forked over the cash and I got my ears figured out. Phew!

Christmas time that year was pretty happy-go-lucky for me, like most Christmases tend to be. I miss a lot of those people and am only vaguely connected to a few of them anymore, but man…those were some good times. I got to be girly and weird along with some of the girliest and weirdest girls I’ll probably ever meet. There’s nothing quite like living in a dorm with great people. So many of the girls I sang with I also lived with and I knew, without a doubt, that they had my back that year (despite some of the less-than-awesome things I got in trouble over).  We laughed and cried and celebrated over a lot of things…those were (and are) amazing girls.

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