Last night my husband and I took advantage of restaurant week here in Boston. It should be noted that the city is so dense and has so much culture that restaurant week actually spans two weeks, not just one. They do exclude the weekends, capitalist bastards. Oh well. It was quite the feat just putting a plan in place and following through with it as J and I are well known for our dreams of doing stuff, but never actually doing the activity because we're so overwhelmed with options.
For example, last weekend we spent two days talking about going to a beach, or Walden pond, or a National park, or the city, or downtown, or a historic tour, or...well, you get the idea. In the end, we finally made it to Costco and Trader Joes. Yes, folks, that was our final outing.
We've been tracking and counting down restaurant week here as it was one of our most favorite things to do in Indy. There was some serious web browsing and research as to which restaurant we should dedicate our finances and taste buds. In the end, we chose Harvest.
A very interesting phenomena occurs when we are out to dinner. I've noticed this doesn't happen just to us, but it happens to most people. We do not order the exact same item even if it is what we really want. God forbid we should have two orders of duck on the table. Turns out there is a Harvard professor who actually wrote a book on this. I ran across it at the Harvard Coop (kind of like their bookstore). Its all about how we sabotage our own happiness. I know, a really uplifting subject, right?
So here we are in the elegant courtyard of a restaurant in Harvard Square last night at the only available reservation left: 8:30 PM.
J: "So what are you going to get?"
A: "I was thinking of starting with the corn soup with Chantilly mushrooms and crab."
J: "Damn."
A: "You know, you could get the same thing."
J: "What else were you thinking about for your entree?"
A: "The sole with the heirloom tomato and cannelli beans."
J: "Well, I guess I'll get the pork then."
A: "Why not order what you want?"
In the end, we did both end up with the soup and it was delicious. There were some striking differences between restaurant week here vs. in Indy. For one, the crowd was remarkably divergent. Our dining partners were decked out in Topsiders without socks, button downs with V-neck sweaters, long hair with product (guys), long hair without much make-up and product (girls), pre-labor day white trousers, hobo bags, messenger bags, and theoretical discussions. It was about as obnoxious as the wine pairings with each course. Somehow it fit, but seemed pretentious none-the-less. One thing was for certain as we eavesdropped on our dining companions and sipped our Willamette valley pinot noir: we certainly weren't in Kansas (or anywhere near it) anymore.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Hocus Pocus
Boy, how does one really follow up the last two postings that were both extremely dark? Well, I can begin by reassuring my readership that life out here isn't as dark as it was. Its still a bit more overcast and shadow dwelling than I prefer, but it certainly isn't as bleak. What changed? I don't know. Time? Perspective? Magic?
I like that last one. A little bibbity bobbedy boo, if you will. If it were only that simple, right? But seriously, I got a really nice shot of hope the other day by finding out that research shows that I can get pregnant on my current anti-depressants and not cause any harm to the fetus. I swear, only at Harvard would there be a whole perinatal psychiatry program. Talking about being in the right place at the right time. Seriously, that news was like angels singing down from heaven above.
I like that last one. A little bibbity bobbedy boo, if you will. If it were only that simple, right? But seriously, I got a really nice shot of hope the other day by finding out that research shows that I can get pregnant on my current anti-depressants and not cause any harm to the fetus. I swear, only at Harvard would there be a whole perinatal psychiatry program. Talking about being in the right place at the right time. Seriously, that news was like angels singing down from heaven above.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Who Am I and What Have You Done With Me?
"In search for your destiny, you will often find yourself obliged to change direction."
(The Fifth Mountain ~ Paulo Coehlo)
This past week has been rough. Ok, "rough," doesn't begin to cover the truth. That makes it sound like I've been frolicking about fields of daisies with friendly elves and bunnies compared to what it has really been like. The toll of all of my losses have begun to accumulate and weigh heavily: the loss of my professional identity and belief that I was a solid professional when I left my job from hell, the loss of two of extremely close and influential grandparents, the loss of a home and space I loved that represented happiness, the loss of yet another career momentum and direction, the loss of an anticipated job offer, the loss of staying connected to family of origin through important rituals like weddings... Granted, several of these are self-inflicted through choices, but they are losses none-the-less. When one is faced with so many losses it is easy to find your perspective shifted unconsciously from expecting happy doors to open to simply pure dread and anticipating when the next shoe will drop.
That perspective changes the way you view the world. All of a sudden life is not filled with opportunity, but instead isolation. It is not a pleasant way to exist. It brings everything under a microscope to be questioned, examined, and calls for judgement to take place. In this past week I have questioned my purpose in life, my true desires, my own limitations, my marriage, and even my own will.
After my last post with failure being out in the open, I wrote to mentors and friends asking for a different perspective on the latest loss and being rejected. I shared my sorrow, my hopelessness, my grief, and self-scorn. One wrote, "Job, Shmob. Something is trying to find you and it wasn't that job. Yeah, I know, easy for me to say. But I do have to look at your life and see that the universe is helping you to shift your focus. You're right that a career is different than a job, but sometimes, it's "just a job" that shows you something new about yourself." At times I forget that just as much as I'm trying to find my destiny, my destiny is also trying to find me. It was a blissful reminder.
Others reminded me that while it may seem like a failure now, it opened up doors and awareness I didn't have before. It would have been a short term solution, but may have perpetuated a long term problem. "Problem" being not being 100% clear about my intention and life desires. Going along blissfully in ignorance is not a solution. And not knowing what you want is a massive problem. I am able to tell you what I don't want better than what I do want. I have ideas, but no lines in the sand or force. Furthermore, I feel so deserted its hard for me to muster my strength and will anything. I worry that anything I put on the table right now as a potential solution is just a band-aid. Its like putting a band-aid on someone who needs a kidney transplant.
My friends and family have been my best allies. It is clear how much they love me and want me to be happy. They don't want me to lose who I am and compromise what I hold dear. They rage at the thought of me selling myself short and compromising too much. I think that the problem is right now, I don't know who I am or what it will take for me to be happy. They have been my fierce cheerleaders, advisors, and sounding boards. I am so lucky to have them.
Its ironic that my presentation I gave at the job interview was on managing transitions. Change may be the physical situation, but transition is the psychological adjustment to the change. People have no problem with change; its the transition people resist. All beginnings start with endings. Endings must be grieved. I must be on the verge of a lot of beginnings, then, because the losses are swallowing me whole.
I can imagine I've been a nightmare to live with. Hell, I haven't liked living with me this past week either and I can't exactly leave me. I'm certain my conversations have been filled with projections: accusing decisions are being made through fear, wondering where the strength is in our vows to get through this, anger and rage about compromise and purposefully inflicting loss, insolence about violated plans (not agreements or commitments, just plans), accusations of selfishness. I will not discredit me solely; I believe there is validity and truth to what I ask and perceive as well. If it looks like a duck and talks like a duck then it is a duck. I'm certain I have acted as the crazy woman perfectly this week. Crazy isn't the right word: grief stricken is 100% accurate.
(The Fifth Mountain ~ Paulo Coehlo)
This past week has been rough. Ok, "rough," doesn't begin to cover the truth. That makes it sound like I've been frolicking about fields of daisies with friendly elves and bunnies compared to what it has really been like. The toll of all of my losses have begun to accumulate and weigh heavily: the loss of my professional identity and belief that I was a solid professional when I left my job from hell, the loss of two of extremely close and influential grandparents, the loss of a home and space I loved that represented happiness, the loss of yet another career momentum and direction, the loss of an anticipated job offer, the loss of staying connected to family of origin through important rituals like weddings... Granted, several of these are self-inflicted through choices, but they are losses none-the-less. When one is faced with so many losses it is easy to find your perspective shifted unconsciously from expecting happy doors to open to simply pure dread and anticipating when the next shoe will drop.
That perspective changes the way you view the world. All of a sudden life is not filled with opportunity, but instead isolation. It is not a pleasant way to exist. It brings everything under a microscope to be questioned, examined, and calls for judgement to take place. In this past week I have questioned my purpose in life, my true desires, my own limitations, my marriage, and even my own will.
After my last post with failure being out in the open, I wrote to mentors and friends asking for a different perspective on the latest loss and being rejected. I shared my sorrow, my hopelessness, my grief, and self-scorn. One wrote, "Job, Shmob. Something is trying to find you and it wasn't that job. Yeah, I know, easy for me to say. But I do have to look at your life and see that the universe is helping you to shift your focus. You're right that a career is different than a job, but sometimes, it's "just a job" that shows you something new about yourself." At times I forget that just as much as I'm trying to find my destiny, my destiny is also trying to find me. It was a blissful reminder.
Others reminded me that while it may seem like a failure now, it opened up doors and awareness I didn't have before. It would have been a short term solution, but may have perpetuated a long term problem. "Problem" being not being 100% clear about my intention and life desires. Going along blissfully in ignorance is not a solution. And not knowing what you want is a massive problem. I am able to tell you what I don't want better than what I do want. I have ideas, but no lines in the sand or force. Furthermore, I feel so deserted its hard for me to muster my strength and will anything. I worry that anything I put on the table right now as a potential solution is just a band-aid. Its like putting a band-aid on someone who needs a kidney transplant.
My friends and family have been my best allies. It is clear how much they love me and want me to be happy. They don't want me to lose who I am and compromise what I hold dear. They rage at the thought of me selling myself short and compromising too much. I think that the problem is right now, I don't know who I am or what it will take for me to be happy. They have been my fierce cheerleaders, advisors, and sounding boards. I am so lucky to have them.
Its ironic that my presentation I gave at the job interview was on managing transitions. Change may be the physical situation, but transition is the psychological adjustment to the change. People have no problem with change; its the transition people resist. All beginnings start with endings. Endings must be grieved. I must be on the verge of a lot of beginnings, then, because the losses are swallowing me whole.
I can imagine I've been a nightmare to live with. Hell, I haven't liked living with me this past week either and I can't exactly leave me. I'm certain my conversations have been filled with projections: accusing decisions are being made through fear, wondering where the strength is in our vows to get through this, anger and rage about compromise and purposefully inflicting loss, insolence about violated plans (not agreements or commitments, just plans), accusations of selfishness. I will not discredit me solely; I believe there is validity and truth to what I ask and perceive as well. If it looks like a duck and talks like a duck then it is a duck. I'm certain I have acted as the crazy woman perfectly this week. Crazy isn't the right word: grief stricken is 100% accurate.
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