March 31, 2009

One Word...five minutes

Okay so in my senior year of high school I had this teacher, Mr. Taylor. Mr. Taylor taught English and had a multitude of unorthodox teaching techniques and unique viewpoints. He definitely left an impression on all of us...

Anyway, Mr. Taylor used to have us journal for the first five minutes of every class. He would provide us with a word or a quote (sometimes from literature) and we had to free write on whatever came to mind with regards to his provided subject for five minutes. The one rule was that we were not allowed to pick up our pen from our paper until the five minutes were up. So...I am going to give it a try...I am a bit rusty and I am using a keyboard rather than a pen...but Mr. Taylor- this is for you...sort of. Oh this is for you...anti-perspirant is your friend, go into the Shower Clean scented light...it will be okay. Promise.

Here are the rules according to Mr. Taylor and revised by me...I am going to open a book, choose the first word that jumps out and set the timer on my I-Devil...here goes nothin'...

The word is frustrated...Haha funny that should be the word that I see first. I get frustrated much more frequently and easily than I should. Not angry-frustrated per se- just generally frustrated. When things don't go my way-when I can't have what I want, when and how I want it...Did I just admit to being a spoiled brat? I think that I did...which I knew about myself. Work REALLY hard to hide/change that aspect of myself, but I don't often admit to it... ESPECIALLY when called out on it...oh well. Haha I am most guilty of this because I guess I get frustrated when I fail to meet my own undefined expectations. Frustrated by my own inadequacies... and shortsightedness...at my numerous imperfections...Why I have to be flaming scarlet hot or icy blue frozen and can't just wade around in the lukewarm pool of indifference...like everybody else. Seems so much easier. I find myself exhausting. That is frustrating too. Frustrated that I care too much, think too much, say too much...but not in that order- the thinking usually comes in last place. Makes me weary.

Also I get frustrated that I get frustrated because it is a total waste of time and emotion and hard to work out, but that doesn't keep me from rolling around in it like a mud wrestler taking down a worthy adversary from time to time...haha stretch for a metaphor-I know...but
I don't want to be a pig in mud...thanks for indulging me that...

Let me think of some things that frustrate me about myself...lack of vision, lack of patience...I am the absolute worst judge of time to ever roam this crazy earth... As in how long it will take to get ready to go somewhere. Shower, makeup, hair, clothes, shoes, accessories...repeat most of these steps for the kiddos...minus the make up...Although I do this most days, I often do not have to do this on a schedule...which according to me should be a four letter word...never to be uttered in my presence.Did I mention how long it takes to find my keys? ESPECIALLY if they are where the are SUPPOSED to be. How long it will take to get loaded up and into the car, how long it will take to drive to the desired location and how much longer it will take if there is traffic, an empty gas tank or an accident...If I get lost...even with the aid of Gretchen Pearl Steinbacher-my GPS with the British accent that I changed accidentally and now she just sounds so much better informed and seems more capable of directing me to my desired location...Or if the Monkeys fight the whole way and I have to try to stunt drive while I referee and THEN I have to try to put back the hair I pulled out of my scalp before I can go anywhere publicly... How long I will be in a place once I finally arrive...forget about if I see anything shiny, or run into anyone I want to speak with...or have to ask for help... and how long it will take me to get back home again...You see my predicament? The clock is not my friend. If I set my stubborn mind- not to be late it is only successful because I have literally allowed an hour more than should be reasonably necessary...Let's not talk of being reasonable. A whole 'nother can of worms...or olives...that sounds better.

I get frustrated at my sensitivity, my vulnerability. I get frustrated that I am not only a poor judge of time...but of situations...and restrictions...hmmm...I get frustrated at my lack of parenting skills...that I am too big of a child myself to be the example that I would like to be .All mature and responsible...Wise... I get frustrated that I have no desire to do things that I believe I should WANT to do like cook...and sometimes communicate effectively. I get frustrated that I do not have enough room in my closet to hang all my clothes effectively...I get frustrated at my adorable but noisy puggle...because sometimes he becomes too much for me with the scratching and the whining and the crying...grrr...he has the worst habits I have ever seen in a dog and it is due to total lack of training...Where is the Dog Whisperer when I need him?...tsk...tsk...submit... HELP...how can he do that anyway? I get frustrated that life never quite meets up to my expectations, nor I to it's- I am sure...

Saved by the bell. hahaha...Added the paragraphing after the fact.

Now I am frustrated by my inability to adequately describe my thoughts on frustration in five minutes...Heehee

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