Jax Attax

I am generally very good at dealing with stress - to a fault, actually.  I am known for being “fine” through just about everything.  I suppose it is what makes me a go-to friend during times of trouble - and it also makes me good at my job.  I started to question this a bit when I received some difficult news last week.  My response was so cool, calm and collected that it freaked me out.  I am a problem solver - if something is wrong, tell me what it is and I will do everything I can to figure out how to solve it.  I have had to survive a lot in life, as we all have - but I suppose having to get through many things on my own has made me focus almost entirely inward.  I remember how I reacted when I found out last year that my brother had been in a devastating accident.  There was my father sitting stoically in the driver’s seat, on the phone and trying to get some answers.  My mother was in the passenger seat up front, doing her best not to drown in tears.  My younger sister was next to me in the back seat and, to be honest, I really don’t remember what she was doing.  All I know is that I kept telling myself to breath in and out deeply.  I can still feel the sensation of the air filling my lungs as I was looking out at the rolling hills of West Virginia.  For 3 hours I sat in the car repeating to myself - don’t get upset, yet - you will get there and assess the situation and give him whatever support he needs.  My sister almost fainted when she walked into the emergency room.  It is not an easy thing to see someone you love in traction, knowing they are scared, in pain and, in this case, totally unrecognizable.  I just went to him and grabbed his hand.  I wanted him to look in my eyes and see that I was not worried so that he would feel secure.  I don’t know if it worked, but it gave me some sense of purpose.  After questioning my response to the present family crisis, I seem to have struck a chord - within myself.  It started out as a subtle pang of emotion that has swelled and is now thrusting secret pockets of hidden feelings into the spotlight.  I’m not sure what it’s all about, but I think even the most put-together people among us need to clean out the closet every now and then to make room for whatever lies ahead …

Are people oblivious, careless or just plain cruel?  Sometimes I wonder if that distinction is even important, given that one can never really be certain of the truth.  It makes me angry when people do not take responsibility for their actions.  If there is one thing that I am upfront about, it is the fact that everything that sucks in my life is my own fault.  I’m not always sure how I went about making such a mess, but I gather that one half of my life involves doing something wrong/stupid and the other half is spent trying to fix it/clean it up.  I wish other people would own up to the same thing - maybe they aren’t so screwed up as I am but I’ve been told that everybody makes mistakes.  The thing is, I hate when you know that someone has done something to you, either directly or indirectly, that hurts; and whether or not it was done intentionally, there can be little doubt about how it will make you feel or what your reaction will be.  My philosphy has been, and remains, that the “oops, I didn’t realize at the time” defense is purely pretense.  It’s a not so passive, passive-aggressive maneuver.  I just want to reveal to the world today something that you probably already know - you are not fooling anyone.  I would prefer people simply embrace their meanness and stab me right in the heart, as opposed to stabbing me in the back.  

I have a healthy sense of humor, which I am very thankful for in this life. One thing I find particularly hilarious is the way a compliment can carry with it the distinct ring of an insult. Whether the injurious part is completely unintentional or just crudely cloaked does not detract from my amusement. Not to say that “I’m rubber and you’re glue”. I am human and a rather sensitive person, so I’m completely susceptible to the sting of a negative comment. I always return to the same thing in the end - I know who I am. I have a lot of experience with reconciling the misconceptions of others, but I’m out of that business. I no longer feel the need to correct those who unsuccessfully fill in the blanks. There really is freedom (and sometimes comedy) in letting go!

Sometimes I wonder, though I am not to my knowledge fluent in any other language, is it truly English that I speak?  Have I created a new language, unwittingly, which only I can understand?  Or could it be that my English has just gotten so poor that it has morphed into some unintelligible sublanguage that sounds a little something like “wah wah wah, wah wah, wah wah wah” to all humans other than me?  I ask myself this all the time because it seems like people really don’t hear what I am saying.  The only other possibility is that people choose not to listen to me, or that they interpret my actual words to fit whatever it is that they think I mean.  And that just can’t be - because don’t all people hate having their expressions, thoughts or words interpreted and read back to them incorrectly?  Or is that just me?

I have resisted the temptation to get a pet for many years.  With the type of work that I do and my lifestyle, in general, it would be cruel to leave an animal at home alone all the time.  This is particularly true considering that I have always been a dog person and have only recently come to accept and appreciate a very select group of cats.  Now I have a roommate who works from home and she has the sweetest little mini-dachshund named Pixie.  This delights me because it’s almost like having my own pet, but I don’t have to worry about who can watch her while I am gone for two weeks.  Pixie is such a well-behaved dog and she is ridiculously cute.  The only problem is that she does hate to be left for any small amount of time.  She is used to living with cats, so this current arrangement leaves her bored and lonely if she doesn’t have a lap to sit on.  We are considering getting a cat just to keep her company.  I can justify this to myself because it wouldn’t really be my pet - it would be Pixie’s!

Why is it so VERY difficult to get back into the groove of working after a long weekend? I’m sitting in a Denver hotel room attempting to be productive and feeling as if I am moving at a snail’s pace. I’m generally the kind of person who makes lists and derives great pleasure from checking items off that list. When I struggle with motivation, I usually force myself to jump right into a large project so that I get caught up in what I am doing before I have a chance to talk myself out of it. Thankfully, I do have a happy distraction - dinner plans. This is actually business-related, but I also get to see some of my extended family, which is always a treat. Let’s hope a nice steak and a cocktail will get me giddy and rarin’ to pull an all-nighter!