I’m Back And Hobbling For A Reason

Though I’ve been absent, my brain has been mulling. Churning to the point where I can no longer avoid talking to you because of some bad experience blogging for an internet marketing business that’s not worth it’s weight in chewed on Styrofoam cups.

 

UNPAID INTERNSHIPS = FREE LABOR at least in my case

(also my right hand kinda goes cold and numb if I type too long. Boo for that.) Regardless I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m letting that crap hold me back from doing something I actually love. Write, even if just for the hell of it.

So much has changed since last we spoke!

  • I’ve moved into the best apartment ever in Andersonville, Chicago, with the most fabulous landlord that wears sparkly earmuffs and Monkee’s tshirts. She’s fantastic.
  • I have new doctors actually making an effort to figure me out. Crackly mold lungs, super sleepiness, short term memory loss, numb right hand etc, all on the table for dissection. (edit: Both my shoulders are jacked up making it hard to type for very long… so blogs might take a min as I have to stop every time I can no longer feel my fingers. Just saying.)

    milwaukee trip '14

    Coors brew plant. Not all our drinks, I swear.

  • Have the best boyfriend ever. Ever. My mother calls him a gift from God even though she hasn’t met him yet.
  • I’m learning a lot about the needs of the communities on Chicago’s South Side and developing ideas to help give the youth there a voice of their own outside their limited environment.
  • Oh, and I learned to knit. It’s fun, and I give most of it away to kids who needed some warmth during this last year’s polar vortex crap. Seriously, my hair froze.

The point is, I’m back. I love this and I love talking with you, so I don’t intend on going anywhere soon.

Next blog, trying to save my friend from death by selling everything I make on Etsy. It’s a thought right?

so this is something I make pretty frequently.

so this is something I make pretty frequently.

 

Let me know what you think about that last thing, or if you have a physical therapist that accepts Medicaid. Seriously. 

I need input. Talk to me people.

Weirdness and best intentions.

Annalise

“No one has ever become poor by giving.”
― Anne Frankdiary of Anne Frank

Where Is Your Support System Today?

I remember the days where if you got a blister it just meant you were getting tougher, or it was natural to just wrap up that twisted or sprained ankle and try again. When I landed on my head, neck, or back because of a misstep or a slip, I walked it off. No tears. No big deal. Just move forward. When I was 12 and I broke my wrist doing beam drills, I finished my crunches and cool down before I got in the car and told my mom that we should stop at the hospital on the way home. Did I stop pushing myself? No, I did everything I was doing before, just one handed.

I was a gymnast. A hard-core, gym before and after school, chalk smeared on my face and legs, focused, competitive gymnast. There was nothing else so important to me, and no feasible life beyond the doors of that building full of equipment and drive. I didn’t see it as work or exercise, it was training and I loved it.

that's me in the green

that’s me in the green

It really didn’t matter your social status at school or life at home, we all came from different places, were different ages, but as teammates were were also best friends. The common ground was a vault runway and spring floor. I will always consider those girls some of the most important people in my life no matter the distance between us. If you’re reading, I love you guys so much.

So why is this at all important? Honestly, I’m just trying to figure out when I became a fragile little wimp. Maybe I’m exaggerating, I’m not totally wimpy, (I actually have an incredibly high pain tolerance) but I definitely cry more about dumb crap.

A few months ago, before we realized my rib was broken and acupuncture was supposed to be my pain management (and hydrocodone, don’t judge), my acupuncturist said something to me. After asking me about my animal expertise and how that applies to her cat with IBS, she wanted to know where all my stress goes at the end of the day. I told her about my family being far away, my job generally being no human contact, my limited friends here in Chicago, and minimal contact with the ones at home. Then she pointed out something that I never saw as a problem until lately.

“So you really have no support system at all.”

I was a little offended, but I didn’t need to ask what she meant. However, I was high on prescription drugs from my doctor, so it has taken a moment to sink in.

Nationals in Florida

Nationals in Florida (second from left)

I know I’m not the only one who has realized this at some point or another. Are we really alone? No, not really. There are always people somewhere. Maybe the problem is that we have a hard time trusting that new people are going to get our weirdness or where we came from the way the old one inherently did. I have a hard time with trusting people, and for good reason. So how does one develop a decent support system… or any system at all instead of claiming emotional self sufficiency and ignoring the downside of being a hermit?

Any thoughts?

“Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”
― Albert Camus

“A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.”
William Shakespeare

love and questions,

Patience and Dirty Pennies

It’s a virtue right? I learned them all in third grade (yea parochial school…)Patience-is-a-Virtue

It would be easy to say I know a lot about patience, and then tell you that its development definitely has a payoff, and that I am now at some great job with great opportunities for growth because I’ve spent years gaining experience in something that can only be learned. But it isn’t true. I’m not at that great job I know I could do better than the next guy. I’m not writing copy for a progressive media company or marketing firm. I take care of animals, and not enough of them to meet a basic wage let alone live comfortably. What’s true here is that I have developed a capacity for patience, and it has taken more than just time.

I am not always the greatest of people. I have been mean. I have been stubborn. I have gotten easily frustrated, been quick to anger and neglectful with forgiveness. I don’t sit atop a hill thinking I have something to teach anyone. I’m pretty sure that’s not my role. As of semi-recently, through acquiring patience, I have found that I am here to quietly listen and help.

I know the feeling kid.

I know the feeling kid.

“Why is that homeless man yelling?”

“What the crap are these people talking about?”

“Your stupid dog tried to bite me!”

“That old lady has lost her mind, just ignore what she’s saying.”

“This is outrageously annoying. I hate people. Get me out of here.”

“I’ll always fail, won’t I?”

“I wish she would control her children/ walk faster/ calm down/ speak up.”

The list of things we say, ALL THE TIME, goes on and on. I’m not writing this to make you feel guilty. Far from it. I just think that some things are worth an extra moment of open inspection.

run children!

The Lawrence Welk Show!

In 2007 I began a series of jobs that forced a change in my attitude. I, for no reason whatsoever, became a caregiver at an assisted living facility. My only relevant experience at the time was watching my grandmother go, and seeing the help she received in that process. It was a suck-it-up-these-people-need-you-now-so-learn-fast sort of deal. They need you even if they tell you they don’t, that you are a fat cow, that you stole their money and then threaten or act on physical violence towards you. It doesn’t matter. Fast forward 50 years, and that’s you. Not much use in denying that sort of mental deterioration or that the years will always take their toll.

I learned what they needed, how to talk to them and eventually help some of their worried children understand them too. After less than a year I didn’t have as many residents as I had people dear to me that I still think about and hope the best for. Reality is at least half of them are gone by now, but I appreciate them still. My sweet War Heroes, my devious English Teachers, my Giants of Industry who swooned over Elvis and made me watch reruns of Lawrence Welk (Those short skirts! Scandalous! ) Their basic skills were gone, some of them yelled things like “PURPLE!”  when they were frustrated, but they were somehow aware and very much alive.

Then I moved on to animal care. Patients who couldn’t talk with anything but their body language, claws and  teeth. I love my animals, but sometimes I really hated everyone else’s.

guess which one is closest to what working at an animal hospital is actually like.

Guess which one is more realistic…

Woman Rubbing Noses with PuppyAt best, most were defensive in a hospital environment. Yet who can blame them? They are hurt and/or scared. They are angry because where they come from they were taught to be. Still, without understanding, they are put down and out of mind the moment they have a bit of medical trouble or act out by peeing on a blanket.

I once was asked to “get this done as quickly as possible because there’s only 15 min. on the meter.” Don’t be shocked, more than a few people can’t be bothered to deal with daily shots or weekly sub-q fluids. If their kid got scratched or a neighbor got bit, priorities are weighed.  Sometimes it’s asking too much. So the kid pulled a tail or the neighbor startled the dog by sticking a hand in its face or over its head, and not taking a moment to see how uncomfortable the animal became. It’s an aggressive animal in a fragile environment, period. I get it. There are other options, but I do get it.

Learning patience is trying and difficult to say the least. I have been bitten and scratched by animal and human alike (It hurts more with people if you would believe it. More bacteria too, which means worse infections).


So why am I talking about this? Tomorrow I am headed to an interview that may help shape my future in a way that I have actually hoped for. I have been disappointed before when it comes to over inflated expectations. I get a little gung ho and start planning my entire life after one glimmer of hope ahead. That glimmer often times ends up being a shiny gum wrapper or at best, a worn penny tail side up. I am talking about this because tomorrow as I head down to River North, and even right now as I sit here, I have to remind myself to have patience. This may or may not be it. I may or may not take this path. No matter what, with patience I can still retain hope.
 worse infections). There are countless failures. You find yourself inadequate and judge harshly every time you can’t succeed and feel better, somehow accomplished. Feel you’re making some progress. You start forcing yourself to understand people and things you would never want to. Sometimes you do this only for your mental survival. Those you find to be at their worst, or out of your comprehensive reach, then become much more familiar as understanding goes. That’s your pay off I suppose. Empathy. Not a better situation for yourself, not really, but a window into the separate and solitary minds around you.

I have developed a strange habit. When coming upon a penny in the street tail up, I reach down and turn it over so that someone after me can find it and smile. I know it’s silly, but there is still something in a lucky penny that nostalgia clings to. Patience tells me that even if I don’t end up where I thought, I can believe that with a tiny bit of hopeful patience to keep them going, they might find something even better.

penny

Pending Hope: Restoring Our Humanity With Coffee

CoffeeHandsYou’ve heard it called by a few different names, but no matter how you phrase it, the concept of suspended or pending coffee is a great one.

If you’ve been out of the loop, a suspended coffee is the act of paying for an additional cup of coffee along with your daily order. This extra dollar or so is produced later as donation in the form of a cup of coffee for a stranger in need of a boost. It is the best kind of charity. Anonymous.

It began in working class Naples, Italy (some say during the first World War) as  caffè sospesoSince then this traditional act of kindness has spread through the EU and into the States. Skeptic that I am, I felt that it would be really easy to get cheated by the cafes, especially when paying cash, but it has been reportedly handled with impressive social responsibility and integrity.

A reliable sense that we will be treated as we treat others is something I am trying to believe in. I must admit however, that there are times when I am less than hopeful for our future. Every time a see another report about how I live in the Murder Capital of the US I hesitate when leaving the house knowing that there is a small chance that I am not safe. These small moments of charity give me hope. I want to run into Starbucks and yell “Sharing caffeine is ingenious!” at the barista. And truly it is.

Sometimes a small act that one doesn’t even remember afterward can be the huge difference between hope and despair or life and death for another person, because some say everything and everyone are connected somehow… A smile, a “good morning,” a free coffee: who knows what kind gesture will touch another soul and kindle a flame of inspiration and transformation?” (Ortuoste, Jenny, “Random Acts of Coffee.” Manila Standard Today.com Apr. 04, 2013.)

So tomorrow, when you grab your next cup to charge your neurons before work, think about how little it would affect you to leave an extra buck for a pending no-frills cup-o-joe, and talk to your community cafes about shedding some light on humanity’s good side by implementing this simple system. Check out this video then download the free sticker below and see what you can do to improve the mood of your neighborhood.

Because it’s not about how it makes you look, it’s about restoring hope in yourself and giving simple joy to others.

STICKER!

STICKER!