Damn Swede

My South Carolinan aunt and uncle stopped by my condo earlier today because they happened to be driving by. They had not yet seen the place, so they appropriately “oooooh-ed” and “aaaaah-ed” as I took them from room to room. I had a snack set out on the platter I was thrilled to salvage from my Grandmother’s house - the same plate my aunt deemed “ugly”. She was tickled to see it in use.

We chit-chatted about life, work this, plans for condo improvements that, laughing along the way. It got to be time for them to move on to my parents house and we hugged mulitple times as they walked to the door. “I guess I will see you soon,” I say. At this point Janelle’s eyes begin to water. At my grandmother’s doctor’s requests, my uncle and aunt were on their way to upper Michigan to be with my grandmother in her final hours.

In a way, my grandmother’s passing will be a graduation. My parents will become the eldest generation and my nieces and nephews will move into the role of the third generation - not be much differenct than their current role. The second generation, however, is the generation with the responsibility. It is that generation’s job to carefully watch the first generation for any signs of weakness. Forgetfulness and fatigue will set in as we slowly commandeer family responsibilities away from them. Problems that used to be solved behind closed doors will now not only require our attendance but our vote. It will now be our job to spend the day in the kitchen, making sure people are fed at a time close to normal. We will be figuring out the sleeping arrangements and making sure everyone has clean towels. All these are in preparation for the major decisions concerning our parents we will have to face in the future.

I like being the third generation. There is a certain security in not having that much responsibility. A blissful ignorance of death being a far away thing, instead of something that is steadily approaching. I have never felt more like an adult than I do now.

That’s how long it has been since I had a good night’s sleep. Well, plus or minus a day. Which I just realized means that I haven’t sleep well all year. It’s funny how that sounds more dramatic than twelve days. At some point I know I will sleep out of sheer exhaustion.

Monday and Tuesday we were on set filming TV commercials, film of the featured limited time offer sandwiches for the year for one of my clients. Filming commericals is the most glamorous-sounding aspect of advertising. Let me tell you, it is not. Twelve to fourteen hour days for approximately thirty-three seconds of footage. Despite the make-shift office we created on set, vice presidents and clients alike still get restless . . . and no amounts of Trival Pursuit or darts could fully entertain. A team of food stylists, armed with tweezers and tiny brushes, busily clear the set of crumbs and carefully place pieces of oregano on the sandwich. Props switch out ramekins to create the right contrast. “The green one or the red one?” was one of the biggest decisions of the day. Production Assistants run to the grocery store to get fresh basil while the Producers keep the day on track.

Even though I have been in the business for ten years, I am still amazed by the amount of work that goes on behind the scenes. All this work for a 7% increase in sales. That is if we are lucky.

It is starting again, I can feel it.

It begins slowly. The things I need to accomplish swirl around in my head, faster and faster until they start slipping away. Because of this I become more diligent about writing out my tasks. My heart starts racing and I feel shortness of breath. I often compare it to drowning, because it increases in intensity as time passes making it difficult to breathe.

Nighttime is the worst because one of two things occur - insomnia or nightmares. Either way, I don’t sleep much. To ensure a decent night’s sleep, I find myself staying up hours past my normal bedtime. I wait until my sight is blurry and my mind has officially shut off until I dare fall into bed. Even now as I write this, I am avoiding sleep despite being exhausted. By doing this I will pass out once my head hits the pillow and I am ensured a sleep-filled, nightmare-free night’s rest.

At least until I wake in a fright at 5:00 AM.

I spent my afternoon at Chuck E. Cheese’s, which isn’t exactly what I had planned for the day.

I had originally planned to sleep in and go check out cabinet stores to start pricing the additional cabinets I want to put into my kitchen. When I came home last night my home phone was still out of order, despite the fifth visit by an AT&T technician this week. I called them up and read them the riot act (as nice as possible because I felt bad for the CSR). A technician was at my house by 8:15 AM, screwing up my plans for sleeping in. I did pack up my Christmas decorations and took a little nap. Sinthia called and asked me to go to get her resized engagement ring from the jeweler and then Chuck E. Cheese’s for a play date for her son Ian. Wanting the company, I agreed to accompany her.

Chuck E. Cheese’s has always been a mystery to me. Just today (at 31 years old), I took my first steps inside this “magic” world of chintsy games and bad pizza. This particular location was packed - birthday parties, families and single dads with weekend custody went from game to game, dropping tokens in and taking tickets out. It was obvious that some families were frequent enough visitors to learn how to beat the system. A mom stood to the side of the basketball hoop game as her son handed her the mini-basketballs so she could drop them directly in the hoop. Across the way, there were three kids gathered around a “Whop-a-mole” game. Upon closer look, one was using the provided mallet to continually hit one of the openings while his two cohorts each used their hands to hit the remaining open holes. Tickets poured out of the front of the game.

My grandmother’s new husband, when they first married fifteen years ago, ingratiated himselves with my much-younger cousins my taking them to Chuck E. Cheese’s. Initially jealous, I am now thankful I was not a part of this tradition.

As I was watching Ian run from game to game, I was struck by the wide-eye innocence of youth. Going to Disneyland as a child was magical; going a few years ago I was taken aback by how cheap it all looked. But watching Elijah, Anna and Nathaniel during the Pirates of Penzance or the Swiss Family Robinson boat rides, they believed the animated pirates were coming for them and the robotic giraffe was going to nibble on their hair.

In a lot of ways I wish I still had that wonderment and awe for life in general. Instead, I keep my head down and focus on getting my job done, errands run and generally try to stay out of people’s way.

I went on a business trip a couple years ago with my agency’s Vice President of Branding. This guy is super-smart and very accomplished in his career. He is also one of the coolest guys you will ever met. We were in San Francisco and had the morning to explore the city before we were due to the airport. The streets of Chinatown called out to us and off we went, exploring the shops along the way. At 1:00 a car would be waiting for us at the hotel, from which we had wandered about a mile. After a leisurely morning, I began to get nervous about lunch because time was running out. Head down, I began to walk faster, pointing out all the restaurants I saw. “How about that one? Or that one? That one?” Looking back, John remained a half block behind standing on the corner. I retraced my steps. “John?” He had his back to me and was looking up one of San Francisco’s many hills. He glanced back at me, raised his hands in the air and exclaimed, “Look at this! Isn’t this beautiful?!” In my haste I forgot to look around and, he was right, it was beautiful. Seeing John that way it occured to me that becoming more mature did not mean you had to leave that wonderment behind and I vowed to slow down and regain that awe. That was two years ago, and I was reminded of my goal today.

Sometimes goals fall by the wayside of life, as the exercise companies well know this time of year. But sometimes goals cannot be accomplished within a year alone, requiring years of effort and discipline. For me, I think this is one of those goals.

What does the ‘E’ stand for anyway?

Or so Dr. Phil would have us to believe during the intro of his show.

I was cleaning the house on the First when his show came on and he made this statement. It is a silly thing to cause me pause, but I realized I am not that excited about my life. As I continued my cleaning I took a quick mental inventory:
WORK - I work at a place where promises are made and broken as quickly as Pamela Anderson’s marriages. Processes are implemented to complicate lives, not streamline them. Employee satisfaction is spoken of but never addressed. I feel defeated because there is nothing I can do to change my environment, even though I adore the people I work with and find the actual work interesting. Well, nothing but leave.

LOVE - My mother asked me over Christmas, “Are you still okay with being single?” Hum. I am content. I would like to find a man that I can love and who will love me. I don’t want to settle for just any man, however, and for the right one I will wait.

FAMILY & FRIENDS - I just moved to Chicago 2.5 years ago. True friendships take time to develop and I am still in the process of developing them. My neighbor, who is perhaps my closest local friend, will move to the South Side in less than two weeks. We all know about my brother’s family, my friends and the parents of my goddaughter moved earlier this year, so this move pretty much completes the cycle. At this point I am annoying myself because it sounds so melodramatic. I am truly blessed with by my loving and supportive family, which is mostly luck. I feel even more blessed by the friendships I have developed over the years. I just wish they lived here!

FAITH - When I got to this point, I stopped cleaning. My conversion to Orthodoxy happened in a church that was comprised of one extended family plus a couple others. This family had a lot of family traditions, treated as THE Tradition, that befuttled a convert like me. The church I attend now, in addition to the guidance from my brother, has opened my eyes over the past couple years even further to the mysteries of True Faith. This, combined with the inpending responsibility of my first godchild, makes me excited.

I suppose that there is a lesson to be had in there somewhere. I may switch jobs, go on numberless first dates, endure many heartbreaks and see friends come in and out of my life . . . but my faith will always be constant.