Uncategorized

What a Crutch

/ Sloan / Leave a comment

I’ve spent the last two, almost three, full days, cell phone free. My phone and I parted ways on Chicago Ave while riding my bike to work. She decided to commit suicide by jumping. The road is in the process of being paved, my phone and I had been stuck at the hip for over a year and I think she was feeling suffocated. She went for the plunge somewhere between Larabee and Orleans, I imagine, she held her breath and took the leap she had longed for.
When I arrived at work and realized she was gone I went searching, calling and leaving messages–wondering if she was alone, cold and scared, or perhaps happy to be out of the confines of my pocket and purse. She grew wings when I wasn’t looking and needed the independence.

Day 1:
The phantom vibrations were unbearable. I kept grabbing my seat pocket thinking I was receiving a text or Facebook notification. I wanted to check the weather, check the time, check my work schedule… I couldn’t. I suppose I have a watch, I could look out the window, and I could ask someone else about work. All day at work I wanted to update my status to tell people I had lost my phone… but I couldn’t. I worried about who was texting me, would they be mad at the lack of response? What if there was an emergency?
The ride home I was at a stop light and wanted to snap a photo for InstaGram but my camera was at home and my cell phone was living the life she always wanted. When I arrived home and needed to get in touch with people about plans tomorrow I used Facebook and email, that sufficed and got me through the night. No alarms needed to be set, at least I could depend on my inner clock to take care of waking me on time.

Day 2:
The vibrations lessened, I remembered why I bought a watch, and I wasn’t so concerned about the SnapChaps from across the world I was missing out on. When I left my house I wasn’t able to track the CTA but instead relied on knowing another bus would be there promptly if I miss the first one. As I sat on the bus I started to noticed people. I watched and observed the behavior and lack of interaction we have with one another because of technology. The young professional across from me reading on her I-pad. The teenagers texting. The older guy listening to music with his eyes closed, completely unaware of his surroundings.
I locked eyes with an elderly woman and smiled. She was sitting, like me, with an open book in her hands not reading. We were appreciating our surroundings and soaking in all of what Chicago people watching has to offer.

Day 3: (Today)
My new phone arrived today and I just picked her up. I opened the box and she feels familiar and comfortable in my hand–still asleep and so peaceful she’s slumbering the box she arrived in. I spent the day shopping, working out, walking and visiting with a girlfriend. She on her phone for part of it, me driving or observing the stores and the people walking by.
I just got home from our day and made a cup of tea, checking email and facebook and have yet to wake the new phone from her dreams. These few days remind of when I was far away traveling, no one knowing where I was or what I was doing, no texts to answer, no emails to read on the spot, no facebook messages that I don’t want to reply to–just me, me in my head answering to no one.

I think I’ll spend another hour or so hanging out with myself, reading, writing, drinking my tea before I wake her and plug my life back into such a serious relationship. It’s been a trying couple of days, I won’t say that I didn’t get lost and wish I had an electronic map in my pocket, a bus schedule and my best friends phone number–I wanted all those things more than once. But this little break has taught me to be more dependent on myself, not wishing ‘he’ would text, (well, maybe a little… maybe just wondering WHO had texted and not gotten a response.)

Take a break from your devises. Do some real people watching when you’re on public transportation or the coffee shop. Rely on intuition rather than Google Maps. Write your thoughts down in a Moleskine journal rather than updating your facebook status or tweeting to your 143 followers. Say hi to that dude sitting on the bus, ask him what he’s listening to or reading. Keep your phone locked up in your pocket a little longer rather that using it as a crutch to avoid eye contact.

Break it off for a moment or two and see how you feel.

Hugs Not Drugs… Maybe a Few Drugs

/ Sloan / 4 Comments

In South America women greet women with a kiss on the right cheek. Men greet men with a firm hand shake or a quick embrace. Men greet women with a kiss on the cheek and maybe an embrace.

In Thailand people greet each other with a wai. [a prayer motion, hands to the heart, the nose or the fore head; depending on the level of respect that needs to be given.]

In my family we tend to give a quick hug or Hello while we try to figure out if a hug is appropriate. Or more likely than not we just say “Hi” and begin talking about what’s happening in our lives.

In Oregon, where I lived for a year, where I just visited for a week after being gone for a year and half, I embraced every person I greeted. I saw my old roommates, my roommates boyfriend, the peoples who’s couch I have crashed on numerous times, old running buddies, my old boss, my brother’s ex girlfriend, some dude I hooked up with years ago, some dude my roommates friend hooked up with years ago, former co-workers, actors and their girlfriends, the girl who’s dating the guy I dated once, that person who gave me acupuncture that one time… we all hugged. Every time I saw each person–whether it had been a year and half or I saw them at the coffee shop the morning before–we embraced, smiled and enjoyed each others body warmth.

I could write about the trails I hiked and ran on, the people I caught up with, the drama I’m glad to not be a part of in such a small town, the babies my friends have had, the engagement rings and the emotions I felt when I was able to spend time with people who are very important to me.

But I’m writing about hugs. When was the last time you got a really good embrace? Like, full body contact, arms wrapped around each other and you didn’t let go until you felt like you were ready to let go. Do it. Go give someone a hug, (maybe I’ll be lucky and I’ll see you right after you read this and I will get that hug!) But do it, find someone you care about and give a good hug. You know you’ll both enjoy it.

Facebook-20141108-081242

The Death Of Joy

/ Sloan / 1 Comment

Someone posted a quote on Instagram a while ago about ‘comparison’. It went something like: “Comparison is the death of joy.” These words cannot ring truer to myself and probably most women and I imagine most men too. I guess everyone can probably be included. Comparing ourselves to someone else will kill what joy you have in your life.

I believe that when we compare it’s not only going to lead us to seeing the differences it’s going to lead us to other negative emotions. What do I mean? What do I compare myself to and how does that make me react? I am the queen of comparing myself to others, I, and I’m sure many others, do it unconsciously and therefore it’s really hard to try and stop.

My list of evil comparisons:
-Body type. (I’m not thin enough, strong enough, fit enough. My legs are too short, my boobs too small, my waist isn’t as defined as her waist.)
-Creativity. (SHE’S a way better writer than me.)
-Productivity. (WOW, my roommates get so much more done in a day than I do.)
-Hair. (I wish I could pull off bangs.)
-Teeth. (Better buy me some whitening strips.)
-Style. (Damn, why can’t I dress like THAT.)
-Relationship status. (Being single is only cool for so long… let’s get real, EVERYONE on Facebook is getting engaged.)
-Travel. (Sorry, hiding you from my newsfeed. Pictures of you eating naan and mediating in the desert are making me jealous.)

Jealous. Shit.

For me, that’s what comparison comes down to. Jealousy. And where does jealousy get us in the long run? I can stare at the stylish chick across the street wishing I had her boots, perfect hair and not even notice myself rear ending the 1972 mint condition VW Beetle until I’m whiplashed and hoping the owner didn’t notice… and then I’m jealous of whom ever is driving that car… it’s vicious cycle.

Then my Jealousy wonders… is someone jealous of ME? “Nooooooooo… Don’t be silly”, she says, “your hair is frizzy, your butt is huge and you’re living la vida single… come on…”

Wait.
Isn’t Jealousy’s worst enemy is Confidence? Confidence is big and tall and has shoulders that likes to push negativity out of the way. She doesn’t need to argue with Jealousy because she knows that she’s wrong and knows that comparing is evil and only leads to depressed nights on the couch ‘should-ing’ herself until it’s time to go to bed. Confidence will dance her way around the kitchen eating something that nourishes her body and doesn’t give a second thought to the serving size because she worked hard today and her body is telling her what she needs.

Some how, in a parallel universe I think that Jealousy and Confidence can play together. They can sit at the bar and enjoy each other’s company. Jealousy can bring ideas, wants and needs to the table. She can bring to head the fact that, yeah, maybe something needs to change. Confidence can show her how to make those changes. She can be the movement and motivation to turn what Jealousy is saying and throw a positive twist on it–making Jealousy believe in herself.

Maybe your hair isn’t just frizzy, it’s fun and wild! And girl, that booty is something the boys TALK about. And give us a break, being single is great–at least you’re not lost in some dead end relationship or married unhappily. EMBRACE IT.

So, instead of comparing, let’s embrace. Let’s utilize our differences and build one another up to create a world of Confidnces and Jealousys that can work together to be amazing.