The Girl Cell

Last week a friend suggested I watch this short video of Eve Ensler and her theory about the 'girl cell'. Those were 20 minutes well spent. Since then, I have seen the video about 5 times - and I have stopped apologizing.

I have always been a firm believer in letting people know how you feel, letting it all out. Being angry, crying, yelling, stomping on the bubble wrap, all of that. But at the same time, I have often found myself apologizing for getting emotional, for being less than sturdy, for feeling and letting it be known that I feel. It sucks that it took another woman telling me that it's okay, for me to realize that it really is 'okay'. Why on earth should I apologize for something so guttural and natural and important? I am who I am, and I would be so much less if I didn't feel and hurt and get emotional - in layman's terms: PMS-ey.

It's sad that so many people use that term, PMS-ey. Not only do men use it, but women have adopted it. Fine, there are hormonal changes that affect your mood, but damn! Just because we menstruate, does not mean every word, action or feeling that you don't approve of (or agree with) is attributable to Mother Nature. Please don't give her all the credit, some of it is original thought, genuine, raw, personal compilation of mental umms and ahhs, electric shocks, chemical transactions, reuptake, tingles, ruptures…

And that was another episode of "Naila's Wandering Mind"

Here's the link if anyone is interested: http://www.ted.com/talks/eve_ensler_embrace_your_inner_girl.html

Then Why Don't You Marry It?

“We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”

---Dr. Seuss

I remember that in grade school the line was --- if you love it so much, why don’t marry it? Whether you be referring to raisins, coke or little Bobby, the rule applied. I’m curious why it’s so easy to use the word love? To say I love you…? I know that in my own life I use the word often, in the more casual “I love chocolate” way and the more serious “I love you” way.
I’ve felt it, said it and I’ve meant it.
I also know the difference when I say I love you vs. feeling “in love” with someone--- at least in my own life. Whether I understand love on a grander scale --- that’s up for debate. Articulating what I do understand --- impossible. Demonstrating it with flowers and candy --- for that, there’s Mastercard.

But so here’s the reason for this ramble. I’m confuzzled. When a colleague says I love you as she walks off – does she really? She can’t, we don’t even know each other that well. Someone you’ve been friends with for years says it, and it resonates, you feel it. Though I like to think the people involved know what I mean when I utter those 3 words, I know what I mean, but what if we are all making these grandiose assumptions? Making the same assumptions? What if it wasn’t meant in the way I think it was? The word can be used too loosely sometimes.

But why do I trust it when it comes from an old friend more than a friend I met a week ago? You can fall in love in a moment, yet I still have this nagging thought that time is indeed a factor and I’m not entirely sure why.

Maybe the whole thinking with your brain vs your heart notion is playing a factor. Maybe I can’t let my brain take a backseat (entirely) in these matters. Maybe what I’m doing is catching myself in a web of faulty assumption. I know feelings can develop quickly, yet I cannot mentally accept it when it translates into what I might misconstrue as a hasty “I love you”. Cognitive dissonance anyone? Sometimes being introspective or self-aware or whatever this personal psychotherapy session I’ve got going on can be a pain in the ass.

The finer moments ...

“I want you to want me
I need you to need me
I’d love you to love me
I’m beggin’ you to beg me”
-I Want You To Want Me by Letters To Cleo

You know that feeling, when you get a twinge inside because you’re thinking about someone you really miss. That gentle tug at your heart strings. Then depending on who that person is, the feeling can take a turn for the worst…or maybe not. If it’s that “I-miss-you-like-crazy-I-want-you-here” kind of miss it can be painful, bittersweet (sometimes). But if it’s a simple “do-you-remember-when-we …?-that-was-fun” kind of miss its sweet and happy and you smile as you recount an old memory. The latter I love, the former I loathe. Haha. But they are all part of the ebbs and flows of life right? People move in and out of your life, some waddle back in, some rest at the shore waiting, some get lost at sea…

So today I was at my computer working away when I get an unsuspected message from a friend who moved away … “Hi Naila. I miss you. That’s it.”

Girly awwwwww *in unison*

And I had just been talking about him the night before, talking about him to a new friend. And get this, as I wrote this in the library after a much needed coffee break, I get to sneak in on a conversation he’s having with another friend outside and I get to hear his voice and actually say “hello”. Ahhh the finer moments of life.
 

When I was a kid my grandmother would tell me all these superstitious, tell-tale signs of when people were thinking negative thoughts about you (you’d choke) or if they were cursing you out loud (you’d bite your tongue). But never did she say what bodily mishap meant someone was thinking nice thoughts about me.

Happy Tuesday - the sun is smiling today, maybe you should too! :)

P.S. I wrote this a few weeks ago... then decided to dig it up and brush it off a little for today :)

An Ode To You

“Whoever has created
An abiding friendship,

Or has won

A true and loving wife,

All who can call at least one soul theirs,

Join in our song of praise” 

–“Ode to Joy” Beethoven’s 9 Symphony

I really want to thank all the special people in my life who have always been there for me, always stood by me no matter what and who have always been there in the stands with banners and foam fingers.

To those who held my hand as I took a step off my soapbox, to those who held my hand as I lifted myself off the floor.

To those who stood by even when they knew I was wrong, to those who gave me the confidence to admit that sometimes I’m right.

Thank you to those who dried my tears, and to those who decided to join in and cry with me.

Thank you to those who helped me grow, reminded me to take a minute and think about what “I” want.
Those who reminded me that I can do it, that I will get through it, that I will fix it and that I will come out on the other end and I will be standing.

To those who were brave enough to tell me the brutal, the harsh, the honest, no-nonsense truth.
To those who whispered to me that I have something on my face, or that my socks don’t match.

Thank you for answering your phones at 3am when I am in dire need of someone to listen to me plan an event in my head, listen to me rant, cry, edit a paper, or just sit silently on the other end so I don’t have to study alone.

Thank you for the good luck messages, the “get well soon”s and the “I love you”s.

Thank you for showing up, signing, donating, listening, clicking, pasting, holding, lifting, inviting, speaking, sitting, teaching -  even though you could have been doing something else instead.

Thank you for holding my hand, kissing my forehead, bringing me chocolate ice cream and texting me jokes to brighten my day.

If I don’t say this enough or if I haven’t said it yet – I appreciate you and all that you do. You all make such a difference in my life, you all have a special place in my heart.

Don’t you dare listen to the people who say love cannot make the world go ‘round. There is such power in this 4-letter, monosyllabic word.

Love is the gentle nudge behind everything I do, everything I believe I can accomplish and everything I strive for.

Pay It Forward

April 29th is Pay it Forward Day – I love the idea behind this. I think it is great that the notion of doing good and passing on the good is being advertised. But I don’t think you need a facebook event to tell you it’s a good idea, and you don’t necessarily need a specified day to do it. So make everyday ‘pay it forward day’. One of my professors told this story in a lecture a few weeks ago – it really got me thinking about the simple things we do in life. I often wonder about the impact, or lack thereof sometimes, of my own everyday actions. I like to think that I do ‘good’ and that the good spreads in whispering circular movements, soft ripples through the world – my [urm…] poetic moment of the day :p

Just wanted to share the story – don’t ever forget that a simple gesture can have the greatest effect on a person, and similarly, a slight hint of malice can have the opposite effect. We can each do something to pay it forward no matter how big or small the gesture --- I promise it will make a difference.

…

“One day when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “why would anyone bring all his books home on Friday? He must really be a nerd.” I had quite a weekend planned – parties, a football game with friends – so I shrugged my shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running towards him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms, and tripping him, so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying – I saw them land in the grass about 10 feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him, so I jogged over to him as he crawled around looking for his glasses. I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him the glasses, I said “those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.” He looked at me and said, “hey thanks.” There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books and I asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I’d never seen him before. He said he’d gone to a private school before now. I would never have hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home and I carried his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with me and my friends, and he said “yes”. We hung out all weekend, and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle, with the huge stack of books again. I stopped and said, “damn, boy you’re going to really build some serious muslc with that pile of books everyday.” He just laughed, and handed me half the pile.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends and that miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going into business on a football scholarship. Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn’t me having to get up there and speak! On graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys who really found himself during high school. He’d filled out, actually looked god in glasses; he had more dates than me, and all the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech, so I smacked him on the back and said, “hey big guy, you’ll be great.” He looked at me with one of those looks – the really grateful ones – and smiled. “Thanks,” he said. He started his speech, cleared his throat, and began. “Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years: your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach. But mostly, your friends. I’m here to tell you a story.” I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked about how he had cleaned out his locker so hs mom wouldn’t have to do it later, and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me, gave me a little smile. “Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.” I heard the gasp go through the crown as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his mom and dad look at me and smiling that grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize its’ depth. Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture, you can change a person’s life.”

If I got held up - I'd want Jackie Chan to be there, or Shahrukh...whichever

Who exactly are we catering to? When you become a police officer - you agree to fight the good fight, to put yourself in harm's way and protect citizens, right? In the same way that the troops fighting wars oversears understnad the risks associated with their jobs ...so here's my issue with the police. By all means, do your thing...but please put the tasers away? Maybe? Pretty please? I don't know...

So okay, here's the thing. Recently I've been hearing a lot about the police and the funny shenanigans they pull...and I’ve come to the conclusion that there are way too many rules in place that help keep the cops safe, and not nearly as many that keep the citizens safe [very possible from the cops themselves]. I understand that it is harder to deal with criminals and disgruntled and disorderly men and women in the streets these days – but seriously guys, where is the line?

Before I continue rambling, for anyone reading this – this is my own opinion…I could be wrong, I could be misinformed. Please correct me if I am wrong… ok. So I’ve taken care of the whole opinion ownership thing …lol…

I was watching a news report about a man who died after being stabbed (I believe) – he had to walk a block away from his house, while he was bleeding, to get to the ambulance. Why? Well, apparently, when the 911 call was made there was mention of a gun (not too sure about this, I think it was speculative at the time of the report). And when a gun is mentioned, the cops and ambulance can park FAR away from the house in question, wait for the police to assess and handle the situation. Ok, that’s cool…save yourselves. But let’s assume there was a gun involved, and the man was shot. Would you want a man, who is most likely bleeding profusely to walk a block to help save himself? Nooooooo. Bring him a freaken gurney! And seriously…ok there might have been a gun involved. The cops should have been front and center – put on a vest, use those tactical, bullet-averting skills they teach you at the police academy and maybe try to “serve and protect” a man in need of assistance??? In this case, once the situation inside the house was assessed (no gun) the ambulance still couldn’t drive up close enough …why? There were fire trucks and police vehicles blocking the way. You’ve got to be kidding me??? And not ONE of them brought the man out of his house on a stretcher…nope. But thank fully they did ‘walk him to the ambulance’.

Okay, so on to the next thing – taser guns. Really? I thought they only used things like that on angry bears in the woods?!?!! Yeah, it’s not as deadly a weapon as a gun (tell that to Robert Dziekanski’s family) so I guess I understand it…but what’s next? Using tranquilizer guns – I hear they can shoot from upto 10 feet away…maybe they can modify them to make the range 1 block away? Ooooh!! Ooooh! Maybe they can just dip the end of an arrow in curare (poison used by natives to kill animals, also used as anesthesia in ect :p) – Archery refresher courses for the cops yaaay! :-)

I am not saying I would like to see the police get hurt, I’m not saying that at all. But what happened to the good old days, when a man could be restrained with handcuffs, not high voltage? If I’m in the middle of the street and a guy comes at me with a gun I want to be sure that the cop walking down the street will do something… not hide behind a garbage can until the man gets bored of me and drops his gun….I’ve seen them do it in Jackie Chan movies – you can get someone out of that situation and nope, I don’t think I ever saw them use a taser gun…just a few strategically aimed hits and kicks. Hell, let’s get some bollywood actors over here to teach them a move or two. C’mon – you’ve seen it! One man vs. 10 bad guys…he always manages to get out alive and the bad guys are rolling around in pain on the floor. His weapon of choice? A stick.

But in all seriousness, what happened to the good old days when the police were these buff men and women who could run faster than the bad guys, and could restrain them if need be? Yes, they knew how to shoot a gun, but they also knew how to disarm a criminal and had the sense to grab a gurnery from the far-away ambulance and carry a bleeding man from his home to the ambulance. Sadly, the man I’m talking about (44 year old Garth Isfeld) died in hospital. Not sure why – but needless to say, the family is less than happy about the events that took place after he was injured.

Thoughts?

A Double Dose

Dear Mr. Sandman,

Another night of broken sleep. I have no problem getting a few hours here and there; I can deal with sleep deprivation. But it’s broken sleep – the kind that just burns my rubber wheels! Mr. Sandman why are you teasing me so? You visit, stay for a while, then sneak off to go see my neighbour… I’m a light sleeper, I heard you hop away…and then I couldn’t fall asleep again.

And please Mr. Sandman can you tell me why you left me that little terrorist gift? Those nightmares that I wish were meant for someone else…the ones that haunt me because they are so damn reflective of my inner-most fears and worries? What did I ever do to you Mr. Sandman? Can you please call me so we can talk about this apparent mis-communication? I think you must have me mistaken for someone else who so clearly angered you. And if I have done something that disturbed you – please accept my apology, whatever I did, I did it unknowingly, it was unintentional, I am sorry.

I can make it up to you…but please swing by tonight... or even this afternoon around 2-ish and sprinkle some of your brute, manly, Old Spice-like fairy dust on me so I can catch a Z or two.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Yours truly,

Sleepy NailZzzz

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So I’ve been trying to put together a coherent thought. I have many, but I can’t seem to come full circle with any of them. The past week has been full of questions, some upsetting answers, but for the most part, just questions. And because of who I am, incapable of lying to myself, I will admit: most are unanswerable questions. I will forever stew in my puddle of muck-y CSF (cerebro-spinal fluid – I know it doesn’t work, it just sounded right). The questions will swim around in my mind until I finally decide that I’ve had enough and I will do one of two things. Either push them far far away into the depths of my mental Never Never Land or I can come to terms with the fact that I will never have the answers I crave. These will forever remain the “unanswerable questions of life”. My unanswerable questions will join the likes of other famous questions like Why are there instructions on shampoo bottles? Wet, lather, rinse, repeat if desired. Are we really that dense a civilization that we need to be reminded every morning? Gosh!