Fist of all, ugh at the painful motivation it has taken to get this post written! I find that the less I have to do, getting things accomplished is much harder. I have discovered that I do not enjoy having all the time in the world; it drives me mental! I need the pressure of having to get things done. Getting that out of the way, I will now stop waisting your time and get to the topic I wish to discuss.
Growing up, if we couldn't drive there...we didn't travel there. My Mom has always had this deathly fear of flying. And not to blame her (Thanks Mom), but those fears bled over to be a bit. One of my best friends in the entire universe (so close we consider each other family) found out she was having a baby. She and her husband asked my husband and I to be the baby's Godparents. Of course we were thrilled! We shouted yes without even having to think twice! I was dying to be there for the birth of my first Godchild. But, she lives in Washington state...I live in Georgia. You do the math. I had to decide if I was going to let my fears and anxieties get the better of me, or if I was going to woman up, face them and be there for my friend.
In Lord of the Rings, on the eve of a mighty battle, Pippin and Gandalf are looking out across the battle lands from a balcony. Pippin turned to Gandalf and spoke some of the truest words I have ever heard/read. He said, "I don't want to go into battle, Gandalf. But waiting on the edge of what I can't escape is far worse." The anticipation of an event that causes you anxiety, is usually much worse than the actual event. My ticket was purchased in June; I had six months worth of building anticipation.
The night before my trip, I found myself filled with so much nervous energy that I couldn't sit still. I kept myself busy by cleaning and making lists and more lists, then making lists of those lists. I Googled 'what to do at an airport, what not to do at an airport, the best thing to wear at an airport' etc. My hair stylist suggested asking my doctor for something to help calm me down for the plane ride. (Yes, I was pouring out my soul to anyone who would listen. My stylist was a captive audience...don't judge me). I seriously considered that at one point, but decided against it. I figured I needed to feel the fear and then face it head on. Cut to the drive up from Valdosta to Atlanta; it is about a four hour trip. Thankfully, my husband was able to drive me up and until we hit the off-ramp to the airport, I was perfectly ok. We laughed and joked and talked and sang along to music (badly on my part. I just sort of shout the lyrics). The mass scale of the place bowled me over and I was beginning to wish I had taken my stylist's advice. Navigating the airport was stressful for me! Where do I go?! What do I do?! You might be saying to yourself right now, 'God, just calm down and follow the signs!' Which is what I thought I could do until I saw the insane amount of signs they have in an airport!
First order of business, get my boarding pass. The only signs I saw for checking in were things like 'Sky Miles Blue Ridge Mile High Club' or something like that. I finally stopped an employee and asked him where the normal people checked in. He chuckled and asked if this was my first time flying. I wanted to save face and say no, but he had me clocked. So I admitted to it and he said he would check me in. I checked 'get boarding pass' off my list. You think I'm joking. Anyway, I digress. He then pointed me to the baggage check counter and I got through that with a breeze. We sat down at the IHOP and had a $40 lunch consisting of eggs and juice. Ridiculous I say! I then had to say goodbye to my husband and head through the security check....alone. I felt like I was walking The Green Mile. I was sweating profusely. I took the best piece of advice ever given me when doing something new; play follow the leader. That doesn't mean that my heart wasn't beating out of my chest. I swore that I had the pungent scent of a nervous first time flyer oozing out of my pores and that at any moment I would be discovered. However, nobody seemed to notice. (I think I might put 'calmly getting through security' on my acting resume now). I then made my way to my gate and waited. And waited. And waited some more. I was so worked up about the whole thing that I managed to arrive three hours early!
The thing is, I thought the actual flight would be what I freaked out over the most. But once I got sat in my seat and the plane made its way into the air, I calmed down. All the way down. It was the most relaxing feeling. I was sat next to a lovely man that struck up a nice conversation with me. We chatted for a couple of hours before he took a nap and I watched a movie on the screen in the head rest in front of me. As I often do (seriously, this is just one recent example), I had built up this huge ordeal in my head and was making it into something much worse than it actually was. The point is, is that this was something I was always afraid of doing, but I faced it head on and now I'm in Washington awaiting the birth of my Godchild. I'm naturally an adventurous person if you can believe it. I have so many places I want to go and so many thing I want to do! Some of which scare the ever loving mess out of me. But if I let those fears become the reason I don't try, I will regret it for the rest of my life. And I am bound and determined to never have any more regrets.
"All we have to do is decide what to do with the time given us." -Gandalf in The Fellowship of the Ring
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Inappropriate Behavior
I have been having a difficult time in coming up with an idea, or topic, for this next blog post. And this is what I’ve decided on…I’m in the mood to tell a good story. Now, some of the best stories, in my opinion, involve self-deprecating humor. Some of the most idiotic things I have done have made the best stories; and I am not one who takes herself too seriously. I’ve literally had to ask my husband and my brother for the best ‘incident’. That is how many times I have acted like a complete moron.
There is a song by the Bare Naked Ladies called ‘One Week’. And within that song, there is a line that says, "I’m the kind of guy that laughs at a funeral." Well, I had never considered myself that kind of person…until one unsuspecting day. I don’t know whose funeral it was, but I remember I went with my Mom. Let me digress for a moment. Awkward silences make me laugh. I don’t know why, but they do. So when the preacher asked the family and friends to bow their heads for a moment of silence in honor of the deceased…I lost it. Now, if it had been a short silence, I would have been fine. But the preacher must have fallen asleep at the podium because the ‘moment’ of silence turned into what felt like a bloody lifetime of silence. All of a sudden, the laughter overwhelmed me as I tried to stifle it. Trying to stifle your laughter is almost worse than rearing your head back and letting it go. I was making an amalgamation of weird hog like grunting noises and snake hisses. My eyes began to water as I tried to hold it all in. My mother at this point, noticed the commotion I was causing and began elbowing me in the ribs and silently screaming through her teeth (it actually can be done and my mother is a pro) for me to shut up. This, of course, only made things worse. The hog grunts got louder, the snake hisses got longer and my whole body began to shake. Thanks Mom.
The people in the pews around me eventually began to notice and were giving me looks straight from the Devil himself. A lady in front of me turned and said, "You should be ashamed of yourself." And I was. How was I going to explain to all of these people, that I truly meant no disrespect without furthering the depth of the grave I had begun digging?! Maybe I wouldn’t have to. Maybe my Mom would be so upset and ashamed of me that she would hurry me through the church corridor and out the door as soon as the service was over. At this point, you may be asking yourself…did that indeed happen? Did she get out of the horrible situation virtually unscathed? No. No I did not. My mother decided to hang around after the service to partake in the many types of food and beverage that was provided for us in the church kitchen. Again. Thanks Mom.
Now I was stuck with several dozen people I did not know, who all secretly hated me. Looking back now, I realize that I should have left well enough alone. I should have just kept my head down and ate my macaroni casserole. But the desperation to try and not seem like a total asshole prevailed and I began to try to explain to the people nearest me that I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, that I was sure their Nana or Aunt, or second cousin twice removed was a wonderful person. Most smiled and nodded and continued on eating the disgusting Jello pudding while others out right ignored me. I don’t blame the people in the latter category, by the way. Boy I was wearing that shovel out. FINALLY, we left. And in case you are wondering, yes I did get an ear full of a lecture on the car ride home. The entire car ride home. And if memory serves me right, it was about a two hour drive. Every funeral I’ve attended since then, I get a shudder inducing fear when the words, "let’s have a moment of silence in honor of the deceased" are uttered. Moral of the story? I should probably never attend another funeral…or any other serious event that may contain an extended moment of silence.
There is a song by the Bare Naked Ladies called ‘One Week’. And within that song, there is a line that says, "I’m the kind of guy that laughs at a funeral." Well, I had never considered myself that kind of person…until one unsuspecting day. I don’t know whose funeral it was, but I remember I went with my Mom. Let me digress for a moment. Awkward silences make me laugh. I don’t know why, but they do. So when the preacher asked the family and friends to bow their heads for a moment of silence in honor of the deceased…I lost it. Now, if it had been a short silence, I would have been fine. But the preacher must have fallen asleep at the podium because the ‘moment’ of silence turned into what felt like a bloody lifetime of silence. All of a sudden, the laughter overwhelmed me as I tried to stifle it. Trying to stifle your laughter is almost worse than rearing your head back and letting it go. I was making an amalgamation of weird hog like grunting noises and snake hisses. My eyes began to water as I tried to hold it all in. My mother at this point, noticed the commotion I was causing and began elbowing me in the ribs and silently screaming through her teeth (it actually can be done and my mother is a pro) for me to shut up. This, of course, only made things worse. The hog grunts got louder, the snake hisses got longer and my whole body began to shake. Thanks Mom.
The people in the pews around me eventually began to notice and were giving me looks straight from the Devil himself. A lady in front of me turned and said, "You should be ashamed of yourself." And I was. How was I going to explain to all of these people, that I truly meant no disrespect without furthering the depth of the grave I had begun digging?! Maybe I wouldn’t have to. Maybe my Mom would be so upset and ashamed of me that she would hurry me through the church corridor and out the door as soon as the service was over. At this point, you may be asking yourself…did that indeed happen? Did she get out of the horrible situation virtually unscathed? No. No I did not. My mother decided to hang around after the service to partake in the many types of food and beverage that was provided for us in the church kitchen. Again. Thanks Mom.
Now I was stuck with several dozen people I did not know, who all secretly hated me. Looking back now, I realize that I should have left well enough alone. I should have just kept my head down and ate my macaroni casserole. But the desperation to try and not seem like a total asshole prevailed and I began to try to explain to the people nearest me that I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, that I was sure their Nana or Aunt, or second cousin twice removed was a wonderful person. Most smiled and nodded and continued on eating the disgusting Jello pudding while others out right ignored me. I don’t blame the people in the latter category, by the way. Boy I was wearing that shovel out. FINALLY, we left. And in case you are wondering, yes I did get an ear full of a lecture on the car ride home. The entire car ride home. And if memory serves me right, it was about a two hour drive. Every funeral I’ve attended since then, I get a shudder inducing fear when the words, "let’s have a moment of silence in honor of the deceased" are uttered. Moral of the story? I should probably never attend another funeral…or any other serious event that may contain an extended moment of silence.
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