if it quirks..

then, I have done my job

Category: Essays

Push and pull

I was a ballerina as a child.

Straight back, shoulders rolled back, long limbs, lengthened neck, pointed toes.

Precision and accuracy are key. Timing is key. Self-reliance is key.

Grace, always grace. If you lose your shoe, the show goes on. You keep dancing and make it look flawless. Finish to the end.

I cried backstage once because it wasn’t a perfect show. My shoe came off, and I dragged it helplessly around the stage trying in vain to make everything look flawless.

I eventually kicked the little slipper away down stage. Apparently, this made the audience laugh and giggle. My mother said it was amusing and endearing to the audience. I just thought it was embarrassing. Patty the dance teacher told me I did a good job, but I knew she was supposed to say that to make me feel better.

But I excelled at ballet after that because I learned to rely on myself for the perfect dance routine.

***

I never partner danced until I was an adult.

I was stiff and unyielding as I had been taught by ballet. It’s hard to unlearn something that has been ground into you over the span of 10 years.

I was comfortable relying on myself to make the dance moves happen, anticipate the beat and memorize the next step.

But partner dancing is completely different. I was supposed to follow the lead of someone. I was supposed to feel the intuition of my partner and let him give me subtle cues of where to go next.

This I couldn’t do. Push and pull was foreign to me. Lessons were difficult because my partners were also learning to be confident in leading.

Always the same comment: “You’re so stiff. Loosen up.”

But I always felt my partners were going to let me whirl away on the dance floor. Their grip was not firm.

And firmness is important in partner dancing. If she can’t trust your judgment on the floor, the lady will fly away.

Push and pull.

Firm and flowing

Truth and trust

He and me

These are fundamental in a symbiotic relationship, which is what the dance meant. Dancing with someone is a meeting of wills. Willing the best in the other and reacting to a reaction. It’s physics in the best kind of way.

I had to unlearn the harsh structure of the prima ballerina.

The unknown in a dance is the part that makes you better.

It made me free.

It made me ok with ebbing and flowing.

Push and pull

Time warps and machines are unnecessary

If you could go back in time or forward in time, would you do it? There’s always that moment of nostalgia that floods my chest and butterflies there. I have to resuscitate myself sometimes when I think about “the good old days”. We like to think that things were better when we were younger. Was it? Or maybe we just weren’t paying that close of attention. And I’m sure that parents everywhere are grateful for that because they had enough to worry about besides scared, frightened kids.

If I had the ability to go back in time, I wouldn’t. Don’t mess with time.

Don’t.

Things have passed a certain way and that is that. Do not stray off the path. That’s what I learned from Ray Bradbury when I read “Sound of Thunder”. Going back in time creates all kinds of scenarios. What do you do if you meet yourself? What do you do if someone you know recognizes you? How you deal with a situation now would change the course of who you were and ultimately change you in the future. Your past is connected to your present and future self. If you were happy with yourself in your present, then why mess with it?

The good old days don’t actually exist. We humans are predictable. We have a tendency to go for the wrong thing. WE are attracted to bad stuff. Bad boys. Bad girls. Bad money. Bad habits. Bad bets. Bad deals. Bad, bad, bad. Regrets are rampant in the present, but do you really think that things would be that different if you could change it all? What fresh bad could you introduce by changing your course or another’s course in the past?

13 | 1

January the 13th was a Friday.

Friday the 13th.

We went to get our marriage license.

I thought this day would be turned joyful.

Joyful and celebratory

Eyes shining for our future.

The day was grey, wet, rainy, chilly.

We were hopeful for the sunshine eventually to pierce through the clouds.

[It’s called the Sunshine State for a reason]

We arrived at 7:00 AM and the doors were already crowded.

People arriving for passports, immigration status, marriage licenses

…like us.

We didn’t make an appointment. Didn’t think I would need one.

Rookie mistake

They opened the office space and we all filed in to the waiting room.

10 windows and they opened 4

They began calling numbers.

More numbers

Time crawled by

Inched by

We didn’t get called

We had a number, but they skipped it

They serviced all those people who made the appointment online.

An hour later and we decided to play with the system that played with us.

I booked an appointment online for the exact time and date we were there.

“No same day appointments” the website screeched in red ink.

I submitted the ticket and marched to the kiosk to claim it.

The state would not toil with our future like that.

The moment the slip 101B hit my finger tips, it only took a few moments for the lady at the window to call it.

Five minutes later, two signatures, and one notary stamp, we had our license to wed.

“Not bad for a Friday the 13th,” I thought.

My mom sent a text at 3:30 PM.

“Mia Jo died.”

Ok, good night.

When it’s bedtime, daddy comes to the door. He won’t go further than the doorway.

He won’t come and touch my forehead or tuck me in the way that mommy does.

He stands awkwardly and says, “Ok, good night.”

With my chin popping out of the covers, I look at his silhouette trying to make out his face.

But all is shadow.

I say, “Good night, I love you daddy.”

The air shivers with silence as he shifts before responding,

“Ok.”

He turns and walks away to his room.

//

When you’re a kid, you can’t understand fully the hurt that a parent may be going through.

But you can understand that something is wrong.

And I slept fitfully asking what I could do to get more than just an ‘ok’

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

When the Night is Dark Around

I believe in angels and demons.

There was a time when I was young

I had a recurring dream

Late in the night

Pitch black room

Fan whirring

Sister inhaling and exhaling

Her breaths even and peaceful

Not mine.

My eyes were staring

At my covers pulled tight over my head

Only my little nose sticking out

To breathe, of course.

But you know how we tell ourselves those lies

To keep things at bay?

If I cover my head, they won’t know I’m here.

It won’t know I’m here.

It won’t find me, just think I’m some inanimate lump.

But not this time.

I to this day remember

Some dark, shapeless, languid shape,

like a man with no bones,

Sliding up to the window

From the outside

And slithering paper thin through the window.

Pale eyes and paler fangs

I couldn’t scream

Because I was paralyzed

Watching this thing making it’s way across the carpeted floor.

Making it’s way to me.

Silence, stealth and absolute terror swelled inside the room.

Closer and closer

And then I just started praying.

Clasping my hands together and praying as hard as I could.

Hail Mary

full of grace

the Lord is with you

Blessed are you among women

And blessed is the fruit of your womb

Holy Mary, Mother of GOD

Pray for us sinners

Now and at the hour of our death.

I prayed that over and over and over

I didn’t pause.

Screwed my eyes shut and kept on praying

Asking for peace of mind

Asking for it to go away

Asking for sleep to take me into a swift blissful nothing

Take me away from this darkness.

I don’t know when I fell asleep.

But I remember seeing bright sentinel figures holding torches

Around my bed.

Shoulder to shoulder stoic figures that didn’t speak or move.

But they were there and they kept watch through the night.

I drifted away.

And for that I believe.

The Family Thorns

Do you believe that family wounds pass on through generations?

Frank was 20 when he took his life. Nobody speaks of him.

Selma hated pictures of herself so much that she would scratch out her face.

June was basically an orphan caught between two warring worlds of Swedish Lutherans and Irish Catholics.

And let’s be honest, there really isn’t that much difference between those two denominations.

It’s funny the differences people choose to magnify.

Her Swedish aunties took the helm and doted on her.

The Cullens would have nothing to do with her.

Robert and Mary knew how to have a good time and forget it all in a fog of liquor,

Including their youngest child ailing with scarlet fever.

They went out one night to party and came home to a blind child whose fever had taken his sight.

Despite them, he went on to become a talented pianist who hosted his own jazz program on the radio.

Jo has always been jealous, and she had three daughters to bring down with her spite.

God gave her an opportunity to change her green with envy heart for something warmer toned –

The chance to love her daughters and bring them up with confidence.

But she chose throwing tantrums, hiding in her room when she didn’t get her way, and leaving her children to wonder what they did wrong.

Norm was an alcoholic, but he sobered up in favor of cigarettes.

Then, he sobered up from the tobacco to take up gardening and car remodeling.

I can remember the smoke clouds choking the back porch at Mia and Papa’s when we arrived in the summer.

To this day, I find tobacco smoke comforting. Don’t smoke personally, but secondhand smoke doesn’t bother me one bit.

Wanda and Ray had Norm; but nobody knows what happened to Ray. Skipped town?

Norm knew Joe as his dad, but it was far from paternal. Far from filial.

They lived next door to one another for years and never spoke, built up hedge walls, warred about nonsense, and cut each other out of their lives.

Cut the rest of us out, too. At least they kept the hedge trimmed and clipped.

Mom says I met Wanda when I was a baby. I have no memory of her.

I certainly have no memory of Big Joe because Papa described him lovingly as a SOB the day Big Joe died.

Sometimes I wonder if jealousy is a family trait.

I wonder if I am self-conscious because of people who slashed their own image or never grew up in a house with a mother who really cared.

But I also don’t believe in blaming the past for the present – not 100% at least.

People have choices and personal responsibility is paramount.

But sometimes I wonder and sometimes I feel haunted with wondering about all these family thorns.

❣️

Procrastination : OFF

Definition

transitive verbto put off intentionally and habitually

intransitive verbto put off intentionally the doing of something that should be done

History and Etymology for procrastinate

Latin procrastinatus, past participle of procrastinare, from pro- forward + crastinus of tomorrow, from cras tomorrow

“Fun” Fact

Like its synonyms “delay,” “lag,” “loiter,” “dawdle,” and “dally,” “procrastinate” means to move or act slowly so as to fall behind. It typically implies blameworthy delay especially through laziness or apathy.


Turning away from the “waiting game”

I am a procrastinator. I have to to fight against this habit of character every single day. In all honesty, I really despise it. I am the type of person who is so laid back and easy going. While this is a good characteristic for something like weekend plans with friends, it is not a good characteristic for serious life situations like paying your rent on time.

And I am in a constant battle with myself to fight the urge of apathy, lethargy and the mentality of “it can wait until tomorrow”.

I used to be 100% in the camp of “I put the ‘pro’ in procrastinate”. Indeed, when I went away to college, I found a Facebook group (when Facebook was not monetized and groups were just for meeting people) that was called “Procrastinators of Tomorrow” or something along those lines. As a doe-eyed 18-year-old, I was excited to join this group and post randomly on the group feed about putting off homework, then spending “all-nighters” in the library to write a 5-page essay.

This was only the beginning though.

It was worse. As a young collegiate, my parents told me not to wait to do important “adult” things in order to avoid the consequences of paying fees or working double.

I literally put off opening a bank account because I didn’t want to go and talk to a person in the bank. About two weeks into my freshman year at college, my mother was calling me to check in. During the chat, she casually inquired about my bank account and had I deposited the money she gave me, etc.

I sheepishly admitted that I had not gone yet, but I would do it tomorrow. In true mother hen fashion (and I mean this in a positive tone – a caring parent is nothing to jab at), she emphatically demanded that I march over to the bank at that moment, open an account, and deposit the money.

Of course, as a young adult I took this as nagging and uninteresting. But, I did it…eventually. It really wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be or uncomfortable.

And there is the heart of my problem at times.

I find myself thinking that if something seems too difficult or time consuming, I should put it off until tomorrow. Expending energy is too much work. I can’t believe I have these thoughts, but I actually have them. This makes me wonder if the core of procrastination begins with a lack of motivation or even belief in self. Is this where laziness comes from?

Is it really a matter of ‘I’m too tired; I’ll do it later’? OR is it deeper? I don’t think I can do this or that it is worthwhile to put that much effort into it, so I’ll forego it until tomorrow (i.e. I probably will never get to this).

Let me be clear – I am no doctor or any qualified professional on procrastination. However, studies seem to back up this theory on reasons why people procrastinate. I only have my own personal experiences to make such claims and a limited amount of research. I don’t know if that is the universal answer for people who are chronic procrastinators, but I think that my procrastination and laziness stems from insecurity in my own abilities.

While this fact haunts me and makes me ashamed, I know that it is good to name something for what it is. “Admitting you have a problem is the first step.”

So, what am I gonna do about it? For me, switching procrastination to “off” is about being intentional and forming a system.

Deactivating procrastination is more than “flipping a switch”

It’s easy to say that you’re going to wake up and run a mile at 6:30 am to prepare for an upcoming 5K. It’s much harder to put that in practice, especially if you are a chronic procrastinator.

I truly admire people who are organized, use planners, make lists, set goals and take initiative. That is not me. I have to work very hard to be and practice all of those habits.

And that is where deactivation begins – with mindfulness.

I HAVE to make myself do all of the things I say I am going to do AND stick to them. Let me tell you, procrastination has won more times than I can count, but I keep forming better habits everyday.

Here are seven ways to be intentional in forming a system to prevent procrastination:

  • Make a list – Make your goal tangible; make it something you HAVE TO cross off a list. If it’s something simple like cleaning your bathroom mirror once a week, write it down in a place you cannot avoid seeing it staring at you. This will help keep you accountable.
  • Set mini-goals/milestones – Some goals are so big, like singing at an open mic or running a marathon. Set pit stops and checkpoints for yourself along the way.
  • Get an accountability partner – Procrastination often comes with a disproportionate sense of independence and “do it yourself” attitude, which lends itself to a posture of getting things done later since you have no one to answer to. Accountability can remedy this. Share your struggles with others and ask for help. Ask a trusted friend, a parent, sibling, partner, teacher, mentor, coach to keep you in check, remind you of your “duty”, or work with you on your goal. An accountability partner can be a great cheerleader and example.
  • Adopt the mantra “do it now” – If something is going to take 5 minutes to do, then do it then and there. Do not hesitate. If it came to mind, then it is obviously something valuable, important or necessary. Don’t give your brain or body time to talk you out of an opportunity to get something done.
  • Develop systems Studies have shown that it takes between 18-254 days to develop a habit. That’s a large margin! Real talk, procrastinators would probably fall on the further end of that range around the 250 day marker. Developing systematic changes in behavior takes time, effort, skill and dedication. Be very clear with yourself and what it is you want to accomplish. If you want to clean the tub once a week, then set a specific day, maybe even a time. Time how long it will take you to do it. Put it on your “list”, make it real. Now, it’s something that you must get done. Continue following your system and document progress if applicable. Do what works for you.
  • Planner – If you are the type of person who does well with planners and likes that type of structure, then get a planner, calendar, or other type of organizational media that helps you log progress, etc.
  • Affirm yourself – Yes, be your own cheerleader. Affirmations help you take a step towards self-reliance and “switching off procrastination”. Whether you have low self-esteem or you don’t feel equipped to reach your goal, tell yourself that you can, that you are valuable, that you have meaning, that you are capable. Hype yourself up; don’t be shy. For the sake of clarity, affirmations should not negate humility. A healthy amount of self-confidence really goes a long way for those who suffer from procrastination.

This list is really only a starter and I am sure there are far more tips out there that can help curb procrastination. I know these are the things that have worked for me on my journey.

Another note: I cannot stress enough that you ought to be gentle on yourself, but also disciplined. This is more than building habits; it’s building character and restructuring how you actually think. As your habits change, so does your mindset. You will learn to appreciate time better, to stay focused, to value what you do and who you are, to be active and take initiatives. Whether you are procrastinating on something simple like washing the dirty dishes in the sink or something larger like jumpstarting your freelance cleaning business, you will achieve these goals with measured mindfulness.

So, bear that in mind as you embark on flipping procrastination to “off”.

Blemish – “Teacher, ugly.”

They say that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”.  Or does it all boil down to cultural standards for beauty?  In this story, the skin you’re in is a blemish in the eye of the beholder- literally.

ESOL teachers are the people who see the world through rose-tinted glasses.  We imagine that going to a far-flung place, experiencing the culture, learning from the people, eating the food and traveling all over make us enlightened and culturally savvy.

What you don’t expect is some obscure backlash; maybe you imagine some, but it never happens the way you think it will in your head.  Cultural shock is no joke for global travelers, especially ESOL teachers.  For the most part, your experience is positive, but there’s always an asinine moment or two that can make you pine for home.

Freshly graduated. Twenty-one-years-old.  A deep appreciation (slightly obsessive) for Asian culture, in particular, Korean culture.  What else was I supposed to do after graduation?  Teach ESOL in South Korea, of course! 

One of the first things you note about people in South Korea is that sameness and continuity are ingrained in the people.  This is neither bad nor good, it simply is a fact.  It is hard not to notice how people have very similar physical characteristics – barring face shape and other minute details. 

Hair color, eye shape, general skin tone and overall body shape and size.  These qualities are, for the most part, shared across the board. 

What do they prize though in beauty standards? 

First of all, I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing someone compliment me on how small my face was and how big my eyes were.  It was not uncommon for people, Korean women in particular, to have surgeries to make their faces smaller or their eyes larger. 

Second, clean, unblemished, milky skin is the beauty standard hands down.  People bleach their skin, wear all manner of creams and powders, bust out umbrellas in full-sunlight and will go fully covered to the beach.  Tanned skin is undesirable as it is a sign of working in the fields or causes wrinkles.  I don’t know all the reasons, but I do know that pale, unblemished, smooth skin is the standard of beauty in South Korea.  People do their utmost to keep their skin super clean and perfect looking – absolute porcelain. 

Enter the little American with freckles everywhere.  My arms and face are particularly freckled.  Otherwise, I’m pretty white.  However, no one ever commented on my freckles when I was in Korea. 

One day, I arrived at my rural Korean grade school to teach English in the countryside.  At this point, it was all still so romantic to me.

I happened to be wearing no sweater and my arms were uncovered.  Upon entering the classroom, I noted that today was second graders.  “Oh, so sweet, so fun, so cute,” I thought to myself.

They were having some free time before class started – just playing here and there.

My co-teacher and I were standing at the front chatting when a small boy approached.

“Ugh, they are so cute!” Thought I again, beaming at this small child.

He came forward, shyly to me and the other teacher.  He addressed me in the best English he could muster, gesturing to my be-speckled arm.

“Teacher, what is?”

I said, “These?  They are freckles.”  I pointed proudly to them, because to be honest, I always got compliments on my freckles.  I was expecting him to nod in wonder or something.

He did nod.  Then he looked up at me still pointing to my arm and said, “Teacher, UGLY.”

Then, he skipped away smirking.

I was in shock.  My co-teacher was chuckling at his cheek because to her he was a silly child just making a joke to get close to the English teacher.  But I was a little taken aback by it all.  I had never considered my freckles to be ugly.  Now, I was in a place where my skin and the little melanin spots it produced was considered hideous.

What a revelation.

My freckles are blemishes to these people.  I never imagined it would happen to me, but someone told me my skin was ugly.

I was an adult, but it still stung a bit.  That might have been the first time that I was awake to the idea that cultural shock is not always positive.  That day the rose-tinted glasses came off.