Monday, November 13, 2006

A Change is Gonna Come

It's time for an intervention.

Over the past two weeks, I've become a sort of shell of my usual self, sitting at home, watching back-to-back episodes of Lost (the 1st season) and eating from one of those big tubs of 3 flavor popcorn for most meals of the day (why are there even 3 flavors in there? No one eats the butter flavor). My utter pathetic-ness of my psuedo-depression is even becoming annoying to myself. I think my wake up call came last week when it was 6 p.m. and I was hungry. I'd neglected to go to the grocery store, and I was too lazy to leave the house. Hence, the dinner of 2 out of 3-flavor popcorn. Not to mention Friday's lunch debacle when I was so weak I had to eat an orange before I could leave the house to go get Popeye's. Even that was a struggle; why can't they deliver it to my house?

So, I've decided to do something about it. I'll call it a self intervention. Armed with a newfound sense of determination, and the echoes of yesterday's sermon on procrastination - (yes, he seriously preached on procrastination. And unlike last week's extra speech on asking for people's opinions , this admonishment was NOT because of me) - I decided that Sunday would be my last day of the pure laziness that I've been disguising as depression.

The result? I'm sitting at the computer amidst a pile of papers that I've begun to organize, getting this blog out of the way, mentally preparing my "10 things I can do to change my life today" per our Pastor's instruction, and reformatting Chrissy's iPod. And despite the pile of papers, and my failure to exercise today, I really did get something done. I cooked and ate breakfast, started cleaning the office, cleaned the kitchen, vacummed the living room, folded clothes, cleaned off the kitchen table and made some soup for dinner. I also started running errands, but couldn't do much since today was a "holiday." I think I should also be able count mowing the yard, even though I did it Saturday.
I also completely finished part 1 of the new member's handbook I'm making for my church. And you know, it actually feels good to be doing something again.

And my calendar for this week is filled up too. Hair appointment tomorrow, Coffee on Wednesday, Spouses club meeting at 11 on Thursday and a Girl Scout meeting at 2 (did I mention I'm a Girl Scout leader now?); wine party Friday (it's not what it sounds like).

So, I've decided to take my life back, to take this time to just do what I want to, even though this what I want to do won't make me any money. And that OK. I figured all this out, and I haven't even done my homework assignment for church yet, so I know there's more work to be done.

Now that I've got my life all figured out, you answer the question. What are 10 things YOU can do today to change your life?

Monday, November 06, 2006

Pieces of Me

Ok, it's official. There is some kind of glass curse on me. Seriously.

I tried to ignore it, but everytime I turn around something's breaking. It started at the old apartment - Woodstock and I both broke glasses within a week's time - but now it's starting to spiral out of control.

Last month, I broke a wine glass and a champagne flute, this week it was a martini glass (and before you try to put two and two together, believe me, these things are not occurring during drunken moments; most of the time the glasses aren't even being used!).

Oh, and it's not just limited to me, visitors are also susceptible. When mom was visiting, she broke a heavy ceramic plant holder while trying to open the window. Last week, while a friend was over fixing my computer, his child went to the bathroom and broke the soap dispenser. And five minutes ago, a glass piece chipped off as I was taking the glass out of the dishwasher, and another glass already on the shelf, was cracked! Seriously, what is going on? I'm switching to plastic, tacky though it might be. And I saw the cutest Lenox balloon set at the PX, but I'm terrified to buy it though, because I'm afraid they'll break. I also have goblets in the storage room that I'm hesitant to bring out. Is this some type of a sign? A case of symbolism - the glass representing my life shattering into tiny pieces until I'm completely broken? I don't know, but I don't like it.

I'm supposed to have a wine tasting/party next week, which of course requires wine glasses, of which I now have only 6. Since buying more just seems like delaying the inevitable, I may be forced to come up with an alternative, but I still have one question:

Does wine taste the same if you drink it out of those red plastic cups? I think next week we may find out.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006


Well, if you live here, you know that I am in the midst of the worst-week-ever. Since I've been here, I've marveled at how safe Germany is. No need to lock car doors! I can leave the back door open for Taz! That type of thing. For me, it was like being back home in Gulfport where we felt safe, even knowing that we had a window that couldn't be locked. Even so, I still locked the car doors, per Woodstock's instruction. But apparently, the other night, I wasn't careful enough. When I got up the next morning, I started my day by going to pick up a friend to go downtown. Instinctively, I got ready to rake through the change Jamil keeps in the front console. Except it wasn't there. Panicked, I looked through the car ... what else was missing? It was mostly random stuff, pin-on rank without the backs, the Pink Panther costume the pastor's wife let me borrow (don't ask. Just ... don't), Jamil's sunglasses and my iPod. Thank goodness it was a shuffle, because if not, I would have really been tripping. When I went to the MP station to fill out a report, I was pissed. How DARE someone do this to me? And it wasn't about what was taken, but the principle: someone was in my car!

But later that night, as I prepared for bed, I had another feeling. Fear. I've never really been scared of many things - not genuinely scared I mean. And this feeling I had, I don't know. I thought back to last week when the wind blew over the mat in my backyard. What if the wind didn't blow it over? What if someone was checking for the key that I usually keep there and thank God, put away. I tiptoed outside in my slippers, just to make sure I'd locked the car door. Everytime I heard voices or a car door slam, I glanced out of the window suspiciously. And when I heard a door slam twice, but never heard footsteps, I went outside to investigate, arms folded with a frown on my face. Hmmm... a green Mercedes SUV, that looks unfamiliar. That night I stayed up as late as possible and then went to sleep on the couch.

I've always thought of myself as a strong, black woman. Although I've never been in a fight, I have no doubt that after surveying the scene for weapons, I could totally dole out a pretty good a-- whoopin'. I'm the one who picked bugs off of screaming women and children, and flicked them away. So this fear, this feeling that perhaps someone could come into the house and get me ... I don't know how to describe it. The pastor's wife told me to recite a scripture, "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." And I tried to recite it, but of course I can never remember the entire thing.

But I tried. And I told myself that I wouldn't be afraid. I've prayed about it, and I have received peace about the whole situation.

Even so, one little thing still looms in the back of mind, something that I will have to repent for if the time comes:

If I see Pink Panther walking down the street, I'm punching him in the face.

And then I'll ask for forgiveness.