Secrets don’t make friends

I’ve had this song running through my head all day.  No reason, just woke up with it playing in the background of my mind.  It’s a beautiful song, haunting, melancholy, almost emotionally draining, feelings pretty similar to holding a secret.

We all have secrets.  Some are work related (an affinity for swiping post-it notes, for example), most are personal.  Some are just about ourselves and some very much involve others.  It’s easy to justify keeping a secret when it has the potential to impact someone who you care for, especially if it in turn will end up impacting you as well. 

The question then becomes, what is the true motivation for keeping your secrets?  Is the real reason you don’t tell someone you’ve cheated because you don’t want to hurt them?  Or is it because you don’t want to face the fallout?  The inevitable anger, disappointment, hurt, judgement.  Is the real reason you don’t tell someone how you really feel about something because you don’t want to hurt their feelings?  Or is it because you don’t want to face the consequences of rocking the boat?  And then there are the secrets we’re burdened with by others.

We all want privacy.  And we all make mistakes.  But making a mistake means taking responsibility.  Sometimes it’s best to burst the secret bubble and let that other person (or persons) in on it.  Sometimes it’s best to shut your mouth.  That’s a decision that you have to make.  I have secrets; plenty of them.  Most of them are soul crushing, gut wrenching, “oh my god I’m a horrible person” kind of secrets.  And I don’t think that I have the right to share any of them just to make myself feel better.  It’s my secret, it’s my mistake, it’s my burden and that makes it my load to carry.  Who am I to put that on someone else’s shoulders just to relieve my own?  Maybe it’s masochistic.  Maybe it’s some sort of sick idea of penance for the things I’ve done.  It doesn’t matter.  It’s the decision I’ve made.  And it’s something I carry with me every day, but it should be.  Because that means I still have a conscience. 

And besides, as the lovely ladies of The Pierces say, “cause two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.”

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Tom Petty had it right.  The waiting really is the hardest part.

Last week I had a job interview somewhere other than my current place of employment.  It was, in my mind, a fairly successful interview;  the interviewer was very laid back which led to a relaxed atmosphere.  There was more discussion than questions and answers, and it was a very engaging and positive experience.  Two days later I got a phone call asking about my French language skills.  I explained that I hadn’t taken French since elementary school, but I’m always open to learning.  The interviewer mentioned it wasn’t integral to the job and they could always send me on a course if necessary.  And that I would hear from him soon.

And now it’s 11am on Monday morning.  The interview was almost a week ago, and while I know that 6 days (4 business days) is not an excruciating period of time to wait, for me, it’s incredibly painful.  There’s that lack of patience again.  I have my phone sitting in front of me, waiting for it to ring and give me the good news (or the gentle let-down), and I have been resisting all urges to check the inboxes for those emails that haven’t arrived yet. 

And this leads me to ponder exactly how much time I spend waiting.  It feels like my whole life, I’m waiting.  I wait to fall asleep.  I wait to leave for work.  I wait for lunch.  I wait for the end of the day.  I wait in the line at the grocery store to pick up dinner.  I wait at the red lights on my commute.  Waiting for deadlines, waiting for responses, waiting for something to smack me upside the head and say “Hey, this is the path you need to take!” or even “Hey, you’re making the right decision!” (that one never seems to come, by the way).  I’m currently waiting to move out of my house and begin my 6 month trial separation of my 10 year relationship.  Once that begins, I’ll be waiting for the end to see where it goes.  Waiting to see if I was right, or if I’ll regret everything that’s passed in the last 4 months.  Waiting to see if it’s all worth it.

Lao Tzu says “I have just three things to teach:  simplicity, patience, compassion.  These three are your greatest treasures.” 

These are the words that I will use to guide myself through the next 6 months.  Simplicity, patience, compassion. 

Media Separation Project stats:
Day 1 – 5 hours down, 11 to go.

Once Upon A Time

In my past life, I used to be interested.  I used to be a writer, and a media studies student.  I used to want to create, and dream, and rebel.  I wanted to learn the system, take it down, and fuck it up.  I analyzed and theorized and argued passionately.  Apathy was not a word in my vocabulary. 

It seems so long ago now.  The writings of McLuhan and Innis are faded, memories that dance on the tip of my tongue but never seem to shape into anything tangible enough for me to recall.  But one thing I do remember from the classes is always being asked to question my relationship with media, and technology in turn.

Sometimes I worry that I’ve become addicted.  I was constantly checking and re-checking my in-boxes; now I have a phone that notifies me when new messages come in.  I still check and re-check though.  I’m co-dependent with my technology.  It cannot exist without me, and I cannot exist without it.  I’m in communication with a small handful of people that I’ve known between 1.5 years and 1.5 months.  I’m obsessed with each of them.  I want to know everything about them.  I want to know if they’ve read the messages I’ve sent, and why they haven’t written yet.  I’m greedy for instant gratification, and I get frustrated when the response isn’t instantaneous.  There is no room for patience in my life anymore when it comes to this, and that adds to the already impressive anxiety rummaging around the back of my head.  I’ve become far more comfortable expressing myself through words.  No surprise, considering that I am a writer, or at least, have been writing for as long as I can remember.  But the reliance on the technology, on the emails and messages and texts, has absolutely affected my comfort level in face-to-face interactions. 

We’re becoming a society where over-the-computer interactions are far more prevalent.  We can order food online, we have to apply for jobs online, we shop and bank online and deal with customer service agents through chat rooms.  We have self check out counters now.  We can text rather than dial the numbers and speak to someone.  We can even run our symptoms through Google and self-diagnose.  Is it any wonder that anxiety rates are rising?  It makes sense that when I know I have to approach someone and actually speak without being able to type and edit my words, I get nervous.  It makes sense that there are times when I will just sit and stare at the Gmail in-box tab on my browser.

And so, I’m bringing forward a challenge to myself.  For the whole of this week I will not.  I will not obsessively check and re-check my in-box.  I will not turn my phone’s idle screen off unless I hear the notification buzz.  Any non work related emails will not be answered immediately; there will be a period of at least 1 day between.  If I can distance myself, then perhaps I can distance my obsession, and in turn, distance my anxiety.

And maybe, just maybe I will find enough time not wasted from these media compulsions to actually pick up a book and read a few chapters.

First things first

You know how they say “this is the first day of the rest of your life”?  I’ve always rolled my eyes at it.  Every day can be the first day of the rest of your life.  Who knows what tomorrow brings?  Maybe today is the last day of your life.  Maybe yesterday was, maybe tomorrow will be. Who’s to say?

I’m a 31-year-old woman who is getting ready to embark on a whole new phase of my life.  It’s alternately terrifying and exciting all at once.  A big part of my change in circumstance will involve a new focus on redeveloping myself.  I’ve always wanted to start a blog.  I’m an obsessive communicator and having an outlet is something necessary at this point.  I can’t say what this will be about, but I imagine it will reflect my personality; random, awkward, focused, chaotic, positive, and occasionally angst ridden.  It will be verbose and pretentious, concise and self-deprecating.  It will be whatever it will be.

This is a time of great change, and I’m going to meet it head on, arms open, screaming with glee.

This truly is the first day of the rest of my life.