December 09, 2008
December 05, 2008
It Really is Real
A while back I wrote about my brother, Tom, telling me that his girlfriend was pregnant. He typically "lies" to me so I refused to believe him. At the baby shower, Bonnie appeared to have a belly-bump but I still was not convinced.I upped the ante and insisted on seeing the actual baby before I would believe it.
Well, last night I met Klaire and she is very real.
Tom called me at 4:00 to tell me that Bonnie was at the hospital having heavy contractions and then again at 6:30 to tell me that 'he had a Klaire'.
Logic and I rushed over to Ballard and were greeted by a 5 lb, 12 oz. bundle who immediately stole my heart.
My brother is officially a daddy and I am, again, an aunt.
Having been through this before, you would think that I have grown accustomed to how this works but every single time that I get to hold a new member of my family, I am reminded of what a gift it truly is.
I haven't held Klaire in roughly 14 hours and my heart hurts. I loathe work on a normal day but today it is exponentially worse.
Well, last night I met Klaire and she is very real.
Tom called me at 4:00 to tell me that Bonnie was at the hospital having heavy contractions and then again at 6:30 to tell me that 'he had a Klaire'.
Logic and I rushed over to Ballard and were greeted by a 5 lb, 12 oz. bundle who immediately stole my heart.
My brother is officially a daddy and I am, again, an aunt.
Having been through this before, you would think that I have grown accustomed to how this works but every single time that I get to hold a new member of my family, I am reminded of what a gift it truly is.
I haven't held Klaire in roughly 14 hours and my heart hurts. I loathe work on a normal day but today it is exponentially worse.
November 28, 2008
Fed Up
Work is really starting to wear on me. Is there such a thing as the Four-Year-Itch? Cause I think I've caught it.
November 14, 2008
Pro-Abortion
Often times when I start my morning reading the news, I get queasy. So much is being thrown at me from National to World to Local news that it can easily seem overwhelming. So this morning I had my breakfast before I searched the headlines.
Now I'm wishing I hadn't. After reading one particular article I feel like blowing chunks:
"A South Carolina Roman Catholic priest has told his parishioners that they should refrain from receiving Holy Communion if they voted for Barack Obama because the Democratic president-elect supports abortion, and supporting him "constitutes material cooperation with intrinsic evil."
The Rev. Jay Scott Newman said in a letter distributed Sunday to parishioners at St. Mary's Catholic Church in Greenville that they are putting their souls at risk if they take Holy Communion before doing penance for their vote.
"Our nation has chosen for its chief executive the most radical pro-abortion politician ever to serve in the United States Senate or to run for president." (msnbc)
"Obama is Pro-Abortion"???? Yes, his goal is to convince people to have them. That's right. He stands outside abortion clinics trying to get people to go in. He organizes rallies with signs that read: "Do You Really Want a Baby? Why Not Kill It Instead?"
Man. I didn't expect Conservative America to actually pay attention to what he had to say because it was pretty obvious that they already had their minds made up. (Or maybe they'd already been told by their priests that their souls would be in jeopardy if they voted for Obama so they didn't even watch the debates.) But I think it's important to point out a portion of the debate between Obama and McCain in October.
McCain: "...Then there was another bill before the Senate Judiciary Committee in the state of Illinois not that long ago, where he voted against a ban on partial-birth abortion, one of the late-term abortion, a really -- one of the bad procedures, a terrible. And then, on the floor of the Illinois State Senate, he voted present.
I don't know how you vote "present" on some of that. I don't know how you align yourself with the extreme aspect of the pro- abortion movement in America."
Obama: "If it sounds incredible that I would vote to withhold lifesaving treatment from an infant, that's because it's not true. The -- here are the facts...nobody's pro-abortion. I think it's always a tragic situation." (cnn)
Now I'm wishing I hadn't. After reading one particular article I feel like blowing chunks:
"A South Carolina Roman Catholic priest has told his parishioners that they should refrain from receiving Holy Communion if they voted for Barack Obama because the Democratic president-elect supports abortion, and supporting him "constitutes material cooperation with intrinsic evil."
The Rev. Jay Scott Newman said in a letter distributed Sunday to parishioners at St. Mary's Catholic Church in Greenville that they are putting their souls at risk if they take Holy Communion before doing penance for their vote.
"Our nation has chosen for its chief executive the most radical pro-abortion politician ever to serve in the United States Senate or to run for president." (msnbc)
"Obama is Pro-Abortion"???? Yes, his goal is to convince people to have them. That's right. He stands outside abortion clinics trying to get people to go in. He organizes rallies with signs that read: "Do You Really Want a Baby? Why Not Kill It Instead?"
Man. I didn't expect Conservative America to actually pay attention to what he had to say because it was pretty obvious that they already had their minds made up. (Or maybe they'd already been told by their priests that their souls would be in jeopardy if they voted for Obama so they didn't even watch the debates.) But I think it's important to point out a portion of the debate between Obama and McCain in October.
McCain: "...Then there was another bill before the Senate Judiciary Committee in the state of Illinois not that long ago, where he voted against a ban on partial-birth abortion, one of the late-term abortion, a really -- one of the bad procedures, a terrible. And then, on the floor of the Illinois State Senate, he voted present.
I don't know how you vote "present" on some of that. I don't know how you align yourself with the extreme aspect of the pro- abortion movement in America."
Obama: "If it sounds incredible that I would vote to withhold lifesaving treatment from an infant, that's because it's not true. The -- here are the facts...nobody's pro-abortion. I think it's always a tragic situation." (cnn)
November 06, 2008
November 05, 2008
Montana Nicknames
I was recently asked why Montana was called Big Sky Country. Apparently, the fact that I lived there for three years qualified me to know the answer. Unfortunately, I did not.
Wanting to sound smart, I did some research and came across a site that I found to be rather interesting.
Passing on my new-found wealth of knowledge, here is a list of Montana nicknames and reasons why:
Country of the Mountains ~ This was a Shoshone expression "Toyabe-Shock-up". It was the first published nickname coined in 1865 by Granville Stuart while publishing the first book to promote Montana.
The Treasure State ~ this was the first nickname to gain acceptance by residents of Montana. It appeared on the cover of a promotional booklet published by the Montana Bureau of Agriculture, Labor, and Industry and was referring to Montana's ranking as the country's foremost producer of metallic treasure--gold, silver, and, most importantly, copper.
Land of Shining Mountains ~ The same 1895 guidebook that introduced The Treasure State nickname also referred to Montana as the "Land of Shining Mountains". This was coined by brothers Pierre and Chevalier Verendrye, French Canadian fur traders and explorers. They gazed upon the snow-capped northern Rockies and dubbed them the "Shining Mountains." According to historian Joaquin Miller's 1894 history of Montana, Native tribes also referred to the Rockies as "the Shining" because of their glittering snow. The Land of Shining Mountains remained in the popular lexicon for several decades, but the Treasure State proved its greater staying power.
Stubbed-Toe State ~ Probably the oddest moniker attached to Montana, the nickname refers to the mountainous region of western Montana where the multitude of rocks might pose a hazard to the novice hiker. This is according to the 1922 World Almanac.
Montana: High, Wide and Handsome ~ One of the most resonant Montana epithets, it first came into use during the 1940s and 50s. Its original source is unknown, although evidence points to C. B. Glasscock, who stated that "Life in Butte was high, wide, and occasionally handsome" in War of the Copper Kings published in 1935.
Big Sky Country ~ borrowed from the book The Big Sky, by A. B. Guthrie, Jr. A bestselling fur trade novel.
P.S. this is all taken from the website. I only summarized.
Wanting to sound smart, I did some research and came across a site that I found to be rather interesting.
Passing on my new-found wealth of knowledge, here is a list of Montana nicknames and reasons why:
Country of the Mountains ~ This was a Shoshone expression "Toyabe-Shock-up". It was the first published nickname coined in 1865 by Granville Stuart while publishing the first book to promote Montana.
The Treasure State ~ this was the first nickname to gain acceptance by residents of Montana. It appeared on the cover of a promotional booklet published by the Montana Bureau of Agriculture, Labor, and Industry and was referring to Montana's ranking as the country's foremost producer of metallic treasure--gold, silver, and, most importantly, copper.
Land of Shining Mountains ~ The same 1895 guidebook that introduced The Treasure State nickname also referred to Montana as the "Land of Shining Mountains". This was coined by brothers Pierre and Chevalier Verendrye, French Canadian fur traders and explorers. They gazed upon the snow-capped northern Rockies and dubbed them the "Shining Mountains." According to historian Joaquin Miller's 1894 history of Montana, Native tribes also referred to the Rockies as "the Shining" because of their glittering snow. The Land of Shining Mountains remained in the popular lexicon for several decades, but the Treasure State proved its greater staying power.
Stubbed-Toe State ~ Probably the oddest moniker attached to Montana, the nickname refers to the mountainous region of western Montana where the multitude of rocks might pose a hazard to the novice hiker. This is according to the 1922 World Almanac.
Montana: High, Wide and Handsome ~ One of the most resonant Montana epithets, it first came into use during the 1940s and 50s. Its original source is unknown, although evidence points to C. B. Glasscock, who stated that "Life in Butte was high, wide, and occasionally handsome" in War of the Copper Kings published in 1935.
Big Sky Country ~ borrowed from the book The Big Sky, by A. B. Guthrie, Jr. A bestselling fur trade novel.
P.S. this is all taken from the website. I only summarized.
Do You Think
... that Lorne Michaels and Jon Stewart are disappointed with the outcome of the election?
November 04, 2008
November 03, 2008
Barack and Maya
"She was the person who encouraged and allowed us to take chances. She was proud of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren and left this world with the knowledge that her impact on all of us was meaningful and enduring. Our debt to her is beyond measure."
~regarding their Grandmother. What a bitter-sweet time for them.
~regarding their Grandmother. What a bitter-sweet time for them.
October 31, 2008
The Douchies
Another round of the Douche Awards today.
This time I'd like to nominate the maroon Ford Taurus that parked so close to my car in the public garage yesterday that I had to get in from the passenger side door. Not only was that incredibly inconsiderate but I'm pretty sure it was impossible for said person to get out of their car without significantly dinging up mine (luckily, I didn't see any maroon paint on my door).
Thanks alot douche!
This time I'd like to nominate the maroon Ford Taurus that parked so close to my car in the public garage yesterday that I had to get in from the passenger side door. Not only was that incredibly inconsiderate but I'm pretty sure it was impossible for said person to get out of their car without significantly dinging up mine (luckily, I didn't see any maroon paint on my door).
Thanks alot douche!
October 30, 2008
What It Might Be Like
Not that I know... but I have the feeling I am being prepped for parenthood.
My cat, Grace, has Fatty Liver Disease which is treatable but she has been a wreck for the past few weeks; losing weight, throwing up, refusing to eat, turning yellow, you know - all the good stuff.
We have taken her to the vet more times that I can count and have done everything from blood-work to an ultra-sound to inserting a feeding tube. We're finally starting to see some progress so it has been worth all the effort, but damnit! I'm tired.
This whole ordeal has required a lot of sacrifices. The most recent one has been lack of sleep. All of the other sacrifices I can handle - like turning our house into a virtual vet office - including the hanging IV, but missing sleep is about to push me over the edge.
I remember reading a post by Aaryn a while back that talked about the challenges of parenting: more specifically, her daughter's lack of sleep which resulted in her lack of sleep. Now I can't compare what's going on to me to what happened to her but I can complain nonetheless.
I didn't sign on the dotted-line the way parents do. They know what they're getting themselves into. But lack of sleep is one of the reasons I have avoided that kind of paperwork. So to find myself in a situation where I'm losing sleep because of my cat.... well let me just say that if this is how being a cat-owner is, I never want kids.
My cat, Grace, has Fatty Liver Disease which is treatable but she has been a wreck for the past few weeks; losing weight, throwing up, refusing to eat, turning yellow, you know - all the good stuff.
We have taken her to the vet more times that I can count and have done everything from blood-work to an ultra-sound to inserting a feeding tube. We're finally starting to see some progress so it has been worth all the effort, but damnit! I'm tired.
This whole ordeal has required a lot of sacrifices. The most recent one has been lack of sleep. All of the other sacrifices I can handle - like turning our house into a virtual vet office - including the hanging IV, but missing sleep is about to push me over the edge.
I remember reading a post by Aaryn a while back that talked about the challenges of parenting: more specifically, her daughter's lack of sleep which resulted in her lack of sleep. Now I can't compare what's going on to me to what happened to her but I can complain nonetheless.
I didn't sign on the dotted-line the way parents do. They know what they're getting themselves into. But lack of sleep is one of the reasons I have avoided that kind of paperwork. So to find myself in a situation where I'm losing sleep because of my cat.... well let me just say that if this is how being a cat-owner is, I never want kids.
October 28, 2008
October 17, 2008
October 09, 2008
The List
Happy, Happy Birthday!
Today's Your Special Day!
Happy, Happy Birthday!
That's Why I'm Here to Say!
oh Happy, Happy Birthday!
May All Your Dreams Come True!
Happy, Happy Birthday!
From Me-e-e To You!
Jill is the first one to call barring any major catastrophe. She likes to make sure I know that she loves me the most. And she likes to sing me the Birthday Song when I'm still warm and squishy from a restful night's sleep. With no catastrophe to speak of, my first phone call today was from her. She called five more times throughout the day. In her last message she told me the story of how mom and dad were visiting her on her birthday last year and she woke up to find that mom had placed Post-Its all over the house that read "Happy Birthday, Jilly". So in her own special way, as she put it, she was calling me throughout the day to make sure I felt as loved as she did on her birthday; and loved I did feel.
Since I moved around so much growing up, I am proud to say I've wrangled quite an extensive "friends" list. This list is great for traveling cross-country because I always have a place to stay. It is also great on my birthday because I am guaranteed at least six phone calls, a dozen emails and birthday cards trickling in for the two weeks surronding my birthday.
I like to draw my birthday out. Similar to Christmas, the fun is over when it's time to clean up the wrapping paper, so I make it last as long as possible. Last night Logic agreed to let me open the gifts he gave me and then this morning I unwrapped the new Wellies from his family. But there was still a box and half a dozen cards that I wanted to save until I got home from work. So when we returned home, I was excited to see another four cards in the mail for me! Before opening the cards Logic was dying for me to open the last box, so I obliged. It was from Lilikoi and Ranger and it was full of my favorite things: PB M&Ms, Lush bath products and some Hawaiian tea.
Next I decided to open my cards. Organizing them in the order I wanted to open them, I noticed that the card from my Godmother had a return address from California even though she lives in Washington. I knew she had a sister near San Francisco and assumed that she was visiting her. When it came time to open her card, which she sends every year, I was surprised to find a note fall out with a pictures of the Virgin Mary on it. This wasn't typical for her. She usually sent me cute cards with puppies or flowers on it but I still turned it over expecting to see the familiar hand-writing wishing me a Happy Birthday. When I turned the card over, I saw that it was a Mass Card*. What happened next took a few minutes for me to register.
My breath caught in my throat and I grappled to find the piece of paper that fell out of the envelope when I hastily pulled out the card. Finding the paper, I flipped it over. Logic looked on, expecting me to tell him how my Godmother was doing and to read him the kind words she most definitely had written. He was nearly as shocked as I was when the words "she's dead" fell out of my mouth. The next few minutes, I just sat on the couch reading and re-reading the card:
We are saddened to let you know that our sister, Margaret, died on September 21, 2008at Lourdes Medical Center in Pasco, Washington due to complications of cancer.
Please remember our family and the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, of which she was a member for 52 years.
With love,
(her family)
I put the note down, exasperated.
"They didn't even say how she died!".
Logic picked up the note and scoured every line.
"Cancer", he whispered.
I had read the card five times and missed that fucking C word every time. I must have seen it but couldn't absorb it; didn't want to believe it.
I was still expecting my birthday card.
She was the nurse in my delivery room. And since the day I was born when she cradled me before handing me to my dad, she has always sent me a card. She would usually include a cheesy gift that I would be embarrassed to show anyone. Being a nun, she was delightfully out of touch when it came to the latest toys and instead sent me a home-made apron or a magnet with my name on it or an oven mitt. Things I took for granted because I didn't expect the gifts to stop coming. But as I sit here, reeling from the news, I wish I had shown that rooster magnet off to all of my friends and that I'd worn that apron at least once. Now I don't even know where they are.
I know she wouldn't be hurt by my lack of interest in her gifts. She and I both knew that it wasn't about the gifts at all. It was about that day, now twenty nine years ago, when she helped my parents bring me into this world and how special we both knew we were to each other.
Every year, after opening her card and the little trinket that she spent her time searching for, buying, wrapping and shipping, I would sit down and write her a Thank You card that not only included a detailed list of everything she sent, but also an update on how I was doing. One time I even asked her when her birthday was so that I could send HER a card and make sure she felt as loved as I did on my birthday but she never responded with an answer. No, she didn't want anything from me; except for the rare card and the even rarer visit to see her.
I was the closest thing she would ever have to a child of her own. She joined the convent at an early age and devoted most of her life as a nurse to working in the Delivery Room, counselor teenage mothers and, later in life, devoting most of her time to AIDS patients and the elderly. She sacrificed her own possibility for children so that she could help other people's children into the world, help them when they found themselves scared and pregnant at sixteen, suffering from a weakened immune system as a result of the AIDS virus, and comforting them as they eased their way into death.
Today I did not get a birthday card from Sister Margaret Mary,
(Happy, Happy Birthday...)
but the absence of that card
(Today's Your Special Day...)
is much deeper than the lack of its delivery.
(Happy, Happy Birthday)
Instead,
(May All Your Dreams Come True)
as the day winds down,
(Happy, Happy Birthday)
the one she helped usher me into,
(From Me-e-e To You)
I find myself with one less friend on the list.
*card sent out to loved ones asking for their prayers.
Today's Your Special Day!
Happy, Happy Birthday!
That's Why I'm Here to Say!
oh Happy, Happy Birthday!
May All Your Dreams Come True!
Happy, Happy Birthday!
From Me-e-e To You!
Jill is the first one to call barring any major catastrophe. She likes to make sure I know that she loves me the most. And she likes to sing me the Birthday Song when I'm still warm and squishy from a restful night's sleep. With no catastrophe to speak of, my first phone call today was from her. She called five more times throughout the day. In her last message she told me the story of how mom and dad were visiting her on her birthday last year and she woke up to find that mom had placed Post-Its all over the house that read "Happy Birthday, Jilly". So in her own special way, as she put it, she was calling me throughout the day to make sure I felt as loved as she did on her birthday; and loved I did feel.
Since I moved around so much growing up, I am proud to say I've wrangled quite an extensive "friends" list. This list is great for traveling cross-country because I always have a place to stay. It is also great on my birthday because I am guaranteed at least six phone calls, a dozen emails and birthday cards trickling in for the two weeks surronding my birthday.
I like to draw my birthday out. Similar to Christmas, the fun is over when it's time to clean up the wrapping paper, so I make it last as long as possible. Last night Logic agreed to let me open the gifts he gave me and then this morning I unwrapped the new Wellies from his family. But there was still a box and half a dozen cards that I wanted to save until I got home from work. So when we returned home, I was excited to see another four cards in the mail for me! Before opening the cards Logic was dying for me to open the last box, so I obliged. It was from Lilikoi and Ranger and it was full of my favorite things: PB M&Ms, Lush bath products and some Hawaiian tea.
Next I decided to open my cards. Organizing them in the order I wanted to open them, I noticed that the card from my Godmother had a return address from California even though she lives in Washington. I knew she had a sister near San Francisco and assumed that she was visiting her. When it came time to open her card, which she sends every year, I was surprised to find a note fall out with a pictures of the Virgin Mary on it. This wasn't typical for her. She usually sent me cute cards with puppies or flowers on it but I still turned it over expecting to see the familiar hand-writing wishing me a Happy Birthday. When I turned the card over, I saw that it was a Mass Card*. What happened next took a few minutes for me to register.
My breath caught in my throat and I grappled to find the piece of paper that fell out of the envelope when I hastily pulled out the card. Finding the paper, I flipped it over. Logic looked on, expecting me to tell him how my Godmother was doing and to read him the kind words she most definitely had written. He was nearly as shocked as I was when the words "she's dead" fell out of my mouth. The next few minutes, I just sat on the couch reading and re-reading the card:
We are saddened to let you know that our sister, Margaret, died on September 21, 2008at Lourdes Medical Center in Pasco, Washington due to complications of cancer.
Please remember our family and the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, of which she was a member for 52 years.
With love,
(her family)
I put the note down, exasperated.
"They didn't even say how she died!".
Logic picked up the note and scoured every line.
"Cancer", he whispered.
I had read the card five times and missed that fucking C word every time. I must have seen it but couldn't absorb it; didn't want to believe it.
I was still expecting my birthday card.
She was the nurse in my delivery room. And since the day I was born when she cradled me before handing me to my dad, she has always sent me a card. She would usually include a cheesy gift that I would be embarrassed to show anyone. Being a nun, she was delightfully out of touch when it came to the latest toys and instead sent me a home-made apron or a magnet with my name on it or an oven mitt. Things I took for granted because I didn't expect the gifts to stop coming. But as I sit here, reeling from the news, I wish I had shown that rooster magnet off to all of my friends and that I'd worn that apron at least once. Now I don't even know where they are.
I know she wouldn't be hurt by my lack of interest in her gifts. She and I both knew that it wasn't about the gifts at all. It was about that day, now twenty nine years ago, when she helped my parents bring me into this world and how special we both knew we were to each other.
Every year, after opening her card and the little trinket that she spent her time searching for, buying, wrapping and shipping, I would sit down and write her a Thank You card that not only included a detailed list of everything she sent, but also an update on how I was doing. One time I even asked her when her birthday was so that I could send HER a card and make sure she felt as loved as I did on my birthday but she never responded with an answer. No, she didn't want anything from me; except for the rare card and the even rarer visit to see her.
I was the closest thing she would ever have to a child of her own. She joined the convent at an early age and devoted most of her life as a nurse to working in the Delivery Room, counselor teenage mothers and, later in life, devoting most of her time to AIDS patients and the elderly. She sacrificed her own possibility for children so that she could help other people's children into the world, help them when they found themselves scared and pregnant at sixteen, suffering from a weakened immune system as a result of the AIDS virus, and comforting them as they eased their way into death.
Today I did not get a birthday card from Sister Margaret Mary,
(Happy, Happy Birthday...)
but the absence of that card
(Today's Your Special Day...)
is much deeper than the lack of its delivery.
(Happy, Happy Birthday)
Instead,
(May All Your Dreams Come True)
as the day winds down,
(Happy, Happy Birthday)
the one she helped usher me into,
(From Me-e-e To You)
I find myself with one less friend on the list.
*card sent out to loved ones asking for their prayers.
October 08, 2008
October 07, 2008
The Right Place at the Right Time
I was walking out of a restroom this morning when a woman walked in and I noticed that she was crying. I had just gone for a walk because I needed to clear my head. I was thinking about Thoreau and how he believed that man is, at its core, truly unhappy. He believed that sometimes those thoughts of displeasure are tucked away but they tend to resurface now and again; reminding man that he is unsatisfied with his life. (An interesting tidbit: In Buddhism, that philosophy is called Dukkha and is roughly translated to mean living with suffering.)
With Thoreau's thoughts on my mind and the walk behind me, I decided to go into the restroom for one final moment to myself before heading back to work. I allowed myself a few minutes to strategize about how I was going to manage the hectic weeks ahead of me and then I focused on the one part of me that was seeing those thoughts float by and I cleared everything else out of my mind. I sat there for a while - just being - and I felt somewhat restored. And at the moment when I felt that I had accomplished my task of shoving out the negative thoughts, I ran into that woman at the sinks. She was wiping a few tears from her face; attempting to hide her crying but it was obvious that she was shaken up. As a woman, it isn't rare to see another women visibly upset in a restroom so you learn to gauge people's needs; whether they need someone to talk to or whether they need to be alone. This woman looked scared and vulnerable so I decided to see if she was okay.
She was receptive to my concern and told me about her recent Epileptic attack. She said she is given enough warning to be able to brace herself but unfortunately, this time she was around a group of co-workers and was mortified when she began to seize. As soon as she regained control of her body, she rushed to the restroom to regain her composure. There's a possibility that she wished she'd been alone in that bathroom, but I hope that she was as relieved to run into me as I was to run into her. Maybe for her I needed to be there because she needed someone to sympathize with her epilepsy. And for me, maybe she was there because I needed genuine human interaction; I needed my day to mean something; something other than meaning to make money. I'm sorry that my sense of fulfillment came at her expense but the next time I'm having a rough day I hope to remember that maybe my discomfort is helping someone else to feel fulfilled by helping me.
With Thoreau's thoughts on my mind and the walk behind me, I decided to go into the restroom for one final moment to myself before heading back to work. I allowed myself a few minutes to strategize about how I was going to manage the hectic weeks ahead of me and then I focused on the one part of me that was seeing those thoughts float by and I cleared everything else out of my mind. I sat there for a while - just being - and I felt somewhat restored. And at the moment when I felt that I had accomplished my task of shoving out the negative thoughts, I ran into that woman at the sinks. She was wiping a few tears from her face; attempting to hide her crying but it was obvious that she was shaken up. As a woman, it isn't rare to see another women visibly upset in a restroom so you learn to gauge people's needs; whether they need someone to talk to or whether they need to be alone. This woman looked scared and vulnerable so I decided to see if she was okay.
She was receptive to my concern and told me about her recent Epileptic attack. She said she is given enough warning to be able to brace herself but unfortunately, this time she was around a group of co-workers and was mortified when she began to seize. As soon as she regained control of her body, she rushed to the restroom to regain her composure. There's a possibility that she wished she'd been alone in that bathroom, but I hope that she was as relieved to run into me as I was to run into her. Maybe for her I needed to be there because she needed someone to sympathize with her epilepsy. And for me, maybe she was there because I needed genuine human interaction; I needed my day to mean something; something other than meaning to make money. I'm sorry that my sense of fulfillment came at her expense but the next time I'm having a rough day I hope to remember that maybe my discomfort is helping someone else to feel fulfilled by helping me.
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