To date, or not to date: That is the question

There are several adages people sling to those in the face of divorce or an ended long term relationship. Whether they’ve lived it personally or through a family member, or just think they know everything, advice mongers will climb out of every corner offering you wisdom. They not only have thoughts on the appropriate time to begin dating, but also on whom you should avoid, what you should try and attract, and the most suitable place to find said persons of interest. I love them all, don’t get me wrong, they are speaking out of heart and that is never anything to rebuke. But how do I weigh who is right and who is wrong? Or do I follow my own heart and figure it out for myself?

Divorce is a heartache not comparable to anything else. It’s a loss of companionship, sentiment, and self. To pick up the pieces and start anew is not only difficult, it proves near impossible some days. That worsens if, like myself, you have been attached and used to one idea, one person, one built in self esteem security system for over a decade. Your relationship foundation, once solid, has crumbled, remains lying around you, floating on the surface on the sea, and sunk far below anything you will ever see again. You are left holding random parts that will never glue back together, and now need to find a way to make a new “safe haven”, a new home, externally and internally. While the court says when things are final based on a date and a stamp from a judge, I know when my marriage hi-tailed it out of my life. I know when that chapter ended and paper or not, it isn’t ever coming back. I don’t need paper to tell me what’s final, I live it every day, and have for quite some time. That book has long been finished. So who better than me to say when I’m ready for the first chapter of the next?

Some tell you to “stay single as long as you can”. Others with a bit more bite like to say “the best way to get over one is under another”. There are warnings of “sharks”, people that prey on a vulnerable situation to make out like a bandit in their own game. There are warnings of “creeps”, more commonly the folk who are jobless, have a criminal record (or should), or are out to get everything but a piece of your heart. To meet at a bar is deplorable, to meet at church is recommended (if only you go to one that isn’t primarily dominated of married couples and seniors and by the way, from personal experience, GOOD LUCK WITH THAT), and then there is the newest dating craze of meeting someone to date “online”, which contrary to common “taboo”, is actually becoming the number one successful method in finding your soul mate.

I am dominantly indecisive in nature. If you ask me what’s my preferred fast food restaurant between McDonalds and Burger King, even though I tend to eat Burger King more, I will dig inside my head to find pro’s for McDonalds until even I am left wondering which truly is my favorite. I am also very loyal to my loved ones, their ideals, and the words they speak into my life. But as each day grows on, I’m also growing a loyalty to myself, someone long neglected and long deserving of a “first dibs” on the advice front. So which do I choose? Which side wins the debate?

While I don’t necessarily know what I want or need at this point, I don’t see how companionship in form of the opposite sex should be considered a bad or harmful thing, nor do I think in finding and establishing said companionship I am setting myself up for an altar walk or green mile of shame. I don’t think going to a movie or dancing, enjoying a meal or entertaining a telephone conversation will take my attention off of my top priorities in life…my children, my self, my future. Choosing to spend my recently expanded free time with someone other than friends or family, a someone who just happens to be of male persuasion, does not make me a bad mother or a bad friend or a bad person. I am not committing a crime. I’m still at the center of my situation and I’m learning daily my biggest fan has to be me, and as I begin to believe in myself more than I ever have, it would be nice to show that sparkle off to someone else once in a while. I’d simply be broadening my circle of amazing friends and shaking off some loneliness. Why not step outside of the box I’ve become so accustomed to, so trapped inside, in search of what could be a little piece of happiness, a little pep in my step from a random text or an unexpected compliment? Every relationship is built with trust and if I’m going to continue in my journey with myself, I need to start trusting that I can and will make the right choice.

Now the only question that remains is where to go? Stay tuned:)

2014 All original content copyright Sara Elzerman

Why I can’t write fiction

My life long dream from as young as I can remember was to write a book of fiction.  Not just any book, a best seller, something that would graze the book store windows for weeks on end.  My first book, my only book, was written in elementary school and featured a mouse and some stolen cheese.  Author, illustrator, editor, I was very proud of my creation and even more so to “publish” it to my parents and sister, a kids most important audience.  Through the years thereafter I developed stronger words, wrote some poems, editorials on life, and even a short story my high school history teacher never stopped praising me for.  But then I slowly lost grasp of my dream.  Time became sparser, life became busy, excuses more abundant.  My dreams and needs were channeled into the dreams and needs of others and now I have a series of half started novels surrounding me, covered in dust bunnies.

The more I try, the more time I’m given, the less I get up and grab the reins to get back on the horse and until today I never quite figured out why. 

At first I blamed a fear of rejection.  Who in their right mind wants to hear that the thing they love the most and yearn to do most every minute of every day is garbage?  But then I started blogging, publicly blogging, and learned that isn’t quite the problem. Every day I have a new follower, another like, so while rejection is still out there, it’s no longer making me cower in the corner.  

My next resolve was that the more I write, the more I release my heart and true self into society’s hands.  Being a very private person when it comes to certain parts of my life (contrary to what my facebook friends might think), this isn’t in my nature.  Sure, I’m fine telling the world about the hilariousness of my kids, the moments of my life that make me say “WAAAAA????” either in hilarity or anger.  But when it comes to the deep stuff, the stuff that makes me tick, I lock it up and fight battles behind closed doors.  Hence, when the emotions start pouring, the easier to quit.  Though I firmly believe this area adds a good amount of weight to the problem, it is not the center, nor the majority. 

The problem, I’ve reconciled, is that I’ve become too stuck within myself.  In all of the semi novel ideas that fill my mind, all the half written pages that stock my shelf, not one book is void of an event I’VE personally experienced, or a person that hasn’t played a huge role in my life, positive or negative.  It’s all about me.  How can one hope to look outside themselves to create something new when completely caught up in their past life?  Don’t get me wrong, I could probably write close to ten novels on the things I’ve encountered in the last year alone, all very interesting.  But none of it fiction, none of it taking me creatively beyond my wildest imagination, none of it fulfilling my dream.

Writing is an outlet, yes.  It is a healthy way for me to scream, to cry, to laugh, to relive some of the best moments I’ve ever had and discard the worst.  But it has the potential to be so much more, too.  By staying “stuck” in these “moments, by not releasing myself of the pain that most of my past entails, I can’t dream or hope to experience my future or live my dream.  The unknown will always be just that unless I allow myself to venture out of the old and into the new.   These windows of emotions I keep at bay and happenings I have lived through, they shouldn’t be the catalyst to push my writing into a better place.  While it’s certainly not unheard of to utilize life’s fortune and misfortune to create bestsellers, the drive should be the wonderment of unleashing the beautiful mind….the excitement of charting untraveled lands, experiencing new places and situations only imagination can build, creating amazing new characters, with all of the traits I long to possess or admire in others.   To conquer the beauty of something new, I need to lay down the baggage of the old and the toxic, get OUT of my head, AWAY from my life, and dream up a new one. 

 

Winter is here. Rules for appropriate driving.

Am I the only “Michigander” currently fed up with the seemingly crazy and/or terrified folk posing as drivers on the winter roads?  Chances are these individuals are not “vacationing” here admidst the beauty of dirty ice and salty slush that cakes your car and dirties your pants, especially considering you have the old style Michigan plate on the back of your vehicle.  If I had to make an educated guess, I’d even say a good number of these people have lived here since the day they were born and therefore have been forced to brave many a snow covered, unplowed road several times a year. 

Why, then, have you all lost your sense of Michigan mojo, only given to us chosen citizens who have fought a nasty winter storm behind the steering wheel and lived to tell about it?  Winter has come, y’all, and I think you can do it once again as you have the past umpteen years thus far.  Let me assist you in regaining your self pride, your “ego” if you will, so that moving forward you will be able to look foreigners of the sun in the eye, those wonderful people who maybe see one lone snowflake fall once every couple of years, and say “You know nothing, foreigner of the sun”.  Below is a list every Michigander should already know and begin utilizing at once to not bring out the Italian of seasoned drivers like myself, and keep us all safe and sound:)

1)  You can change lanes. You do not need to stay stuck behind Aunt Maud who is having a hyperventilate because the wiper blades are on full blast and the noise is catastrophic to her 40’s pops.   Your car will not do a 360, not even a 180, I promise.  And – as an added bonus – those snow banks currently piling in the middle of the roads due to cars not being used to their capacity and driving over them ?  Yea, those, they will seemingly begin to diminish because driving on them will separate them, making it easier to melt.  SCIENCE!!! 

2)  It is perfectly acceptable and even DEMANDED that you drive over 10mph.  Unless you’re tires are 5 years old, in which case the only thing you should be using for travel is a bus, you will not lose control.  Unless the snow is piled midway up your car door, in which case refer to the bus recommendation above, your car is heavy enough to soldier through.  In driving at speeds slower than a donkey, however, you are causing a bit of a traffic jam, in turn causing much road rage and also bettering your chances of getting stuck.  I don’t know about you, but if I just ticked off 15+ cars driving like a camel and then got stuck, leaving them backed up another hour or so, with nothing better to do than get out of their car and come find me, I’d find myself at a bit of a scary impass.  DRIVE PEOPLE.

3)  Don’t be a speed demon.  Speed kills in normal conditions when it takes an ambulance only seconds to arrive, let alone hours because of bad conditions and too many drivers.  You are in the same position as everyone else.  Take a chill pill, turn on some DMB, or Manilow, some 90’s hip hop and dance it out, or whatever does it for you, and go with the flow.  You want to get there alive as does everyone around you, why not jam out on the way so as to wipe – that – rage off your shoulder?  Sorry, Jay z gone bad for a moment there.

4)  Get off my tail.  Literally.  I do have a nice back end, this I know thanks to many compliments, but everyone deserves personal space and may I offer a simple reminder from Drivers Ed 101 : Always allow one car length for every 10 miles you are driving in case of an accident.   Centimeters away from kissing my bumper going 40 miles an hour, especially if my children are in the backseat, you are setting yourself up for a world of hurt should something go wrong so I’m doing you the favor, really.  Do you honestly think that by hounding me so close I’m going to feel some kind of kindness or sorrow that I’m keeping you from driving like a demon straight out of hell and potentially hurting me, my neighbor or even your stupid self?  Wrong-o genius.  You are simply validating that I need to stay in my place, team up with homeboy next to me and keep time so you are boxed in and leave you with no choice but to simma donna.  So simma donna.

5) STAY OFF YOUR FREAKING CELL PHONE.  You do not need to call anyone, text, plug in your battery, or check facebook for the gazillionth time when you are surrounded by flakes a fury in rush hour.  They can wait.  In case you failed to realize, our family and friends are currently living around the same outdoor conditions and are assuming without your unnecessary heads up that you are stuck in traffic, or snow, or both.  The Amish live without house phones, electricity, cars and television every day, and guess what?  THEY LIVE.  They eat, breathe, work and maintain an active lifestyle the same as you and me.  I think you can bear to last one hour without syncing up with your online community to let them know what is clearly obvious.

6) Did I say you can change lanes?  Change lanes.

7)  Use your blinker.  You paid for it.  It’s there for a reason.  It keeps me away from you and vice versa.  The click is faster than liking someone’s Facebook status.  Seriously.  Just say yes.

8)  If you cannot adhere to all the rules above because of fear, stupidity, or uncertainty, PLEASE do the rest of us who appreciate correct snowy driving a favor, and refrain.  Opposite from above, JUST SAY NO.  Be a passenger, take a bus, pull up the UGGS and go for a walk but stay away from the driving wheel.  Better to be safe than sorry, and if an accident doesn’t claim your vehicle for your errors in judgment, my Italian just might.  The Italian is a bit uglier, just being honest, so fair warning.

So there you have it.  Be safe, keep me safe, leave ‘Momstxi” in one working, pretty piece, and we are all friends.  Till next time:)

 

 

Death, redefined

Back in days of ole, when someone passed away, whoever was in the room with the deceased would immediately stop the clock. This ritual began in the Victorian era, and it was based on a belief that when a person died time stood still for them and a new period of existence started without time. To allow time to continue was to invite the spirit of the deceased to remain and haunt unendingly. Stopping time was a way to allow the deceased to move on.

As I sit in my kitchen, surrounded by a semi silence spiked with my Pandora mix, I look up to the wall and realize I haven’t changed the calendar since agreeing upon a death of another kind, divorce. Not only is it the death of my marriage, but of a huge part of my adult existence. So it sits. Up on the wall, blazing with my pain, empty boxes, birthdays jotted down long past, denist appointments long expired. And, there I sat. Future vacation plans untraveled. Future dreams left to waste. Future memories unmade. Future picture frames empty of 5 smiles. My heart at my feet and my head hanging down.

Can it be this is a death worse than death? With true death, you watch the light leave someone’s eyes, and then you see them no more, other than in your head and the footprints they’ve left on your heart. You rationalize that the loved one truly is moving on to a better place, as sad as that is for all to bear and whether you believe that place is heaven or a completely new life with new possibilities and new breath, does not matter. In either event it’s a place of beautiful and of happy, not of worry, uncertainty, instability and sadness. In this instance, this kind of death, the loved one is not only still in front of you, but no longer loved, you aren’t allowed to love them, at least not in the same context they once were. I’ve lost a partner, mate, confidant, hugger, friend, and too many other adjectives to list, and by choice, not circumstance. The memories linger longer, bolder, because they are memories now tangled with that fateful memory that ended it all. And every time I look upon that face from now until my last breath, that conversation, the last one, is burning in their eyes. That day, that moment, that part of time has been lost. My heart from that minute has completely shut down and is frozen in that world of months ago, never to move forward, never to replay. The deceased, aka my marriage, is left to remain in peace, buried 6 feet under, resting quietly in darkness and stillness for all eternity, to offer me hope to gain new life and new love, free from the horror and fright of ghosts.

While the calendar sits, and I continue to make my way up to the coffin to pay my emotional respects to the relationship being laid to rest, I choose to remain breathing. Walking. Living. I will leave the calendar untouched, with all of it’s plans and deadlines, and move on to create a new one. Those memories of my past will dance forever in that space, void of time, void of life, no color. I can dance here, even in the midst of tears. I can create a new panoramic dream. One full of forest green and deep purple and hot pink, and while it’s tinged with blue here and there, maybe some black too, the vividness of what lies ahead seems to drown out the sorrows. The light needs the dark, of course, to enhance the beauty of the end result. My time has moved forward, my clock is still ticking, and as hard as it gets, no matter what booby traps are left to be thrown in my path, I soldier on.

All original content copyright by Sara Elzerman, 2014.

Source(s):
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080714233526AAy01Pg
http://www.sandiego.org/article/Visitors/665

Time

I come from a big family, full of nationalities and ideals, and I’ve gathered many stories throughout the years, and watched my grandmothers more than anyone, portray a lifestyle that was from another time, another reality.  My paternal grandmother could write several bestsellers from the horrors and excitement she has survived, and my maternal grandmother possesses a quiet strength, a strength seen by few, an honest courage, that only comes from living a hard life but a full one.  These women have been role models to me throughout time, regardless of how close or distant the relationship was, and even now, as these women are facing the final chapter in their life story, their fearlessness fading into the horizon, I can’t help but be awed by all they have unknowingly taught me.

It’s amazing how every day, we wake up, and repeat the same behavior simply for the sake of habit or materialism that 20 years from now will mean nothing,  Some of us will earn a pension for our efforts, some of us the honor of claiming our successful adult children.  But at the end of the day, when we are alone, our loved ones now engulfed in their own lives and their own families, are we going to look back at those days with happiness?  With pride?  Or wish for more?

Priorities are defined as a thing that is regarded as more important than another, the fact or condition of being treated as more important.  Priorities to my generation have become a career, financial stability, a toy or two, maybe a family, and self.  In the older generations, family was first, especially for a woman, a job second, unless you were a man in which case the first two were reversed.  A toy was a treat, a privilege, not an entitlement.   What was self?  There was no such thing.  You did what you did for the love of a family or a spouse whether you wanted to or not.  Marriage was a priority, finding a true love and not only committing to that love in a church, but for a lifetime thereafter, divorce was revered as one of the most evil sins one could ever commit.  Now?  Divorce is more predominant than marriage, if you can figure that out, for the simple love and search for complete happiness. But what is happiness?  What truly makes and keeps someone happy?  Do we even know anymore? 

I went to visit with my grandma yesterday at her assisted living home.  My grandma, the grandma who once worked two and a half full time jobs, who never sat still between maintaining her home, her kids, her grandkids and making her ever famous homemade chicken noodle soup.  The one who has lived through more loss, more trauma, more fear than anything I could ever imagine, and lived to tell about it.  Not only lived to tell about it, over and over, but with a smile on her now wrinkled face, her head high, her faith higher.  My grandma, once strong as a rock, can now barely hold a spoon up to her mouth to feed herself.  She forgets who I am, she forgets that I remember when my uncle passed away, she can’t see good enough to change the channel on the remote control or write out a birthday card. 

This is the sad truth of aging, I know that, I know that we all go through this and one day I’ll be there too.  But what hit me is how close she lives to me and how rarely I go visit her.   How in such a short period of time, I went from being able to maintain a solid conversation with her, she was coherent enough to connect with me emotionally and physically, and now I’m lucky she remembers me for the span of my visit, let alone being able to talk about anything other than the Tigers, or the food, or the weather.   Yes, I have an out of the home job, yes I have three little kids that more often that not CONSUME my life, and yes I have self care that also needs attending to, like reading and exersizing and breathing in silence, which is OH SO HARD to come by.   Do I want to look back after she’s gone and find regret that I didn’t go visit when I was driving down the street headed elsewhere? 

More important than that, though, it brought up the question of time, how precious it truly is and how easily it can be lost.  I’ve lost great people in my life whether to death or grudges or unresolved drama  or distance.  If I were to be taken tomorrow, these people would never know my heart, they would never know my apologies, my pain at the loss of them from my life.  Likewise the people I am close to still and blessed to still have around, have I done all I can with and for them as a friend, a mother, a sister, a daughter?  Did I give up those dinner plans to go to a milestone birthday party?  Did I make myself available not only to give love but to receive it?

In life, drama is always a step away.  It waits for us at all, like a ghost, the minute the house goes empty and the lights go out, it creeps from the shadows to terrify our life and upset our peace.  Drama only has control if you give it that power.  If you cut it out, refuse to acknowledge it by facing it head on, resolve hurts past and present, discuss misunderstanding, be open to hearing that you aren’t perfect either and even more open to begin a change for the better, think of how much the quality of life could improve.  No more awkward silences or run ins, no more “what if’s”, or “I should have, could have, would have” if given another chance.   No looking back in regret or wonder.  Why stay at a hated job that works you 80 hours a week because you’re afraid you can’t do anything else.  If a buddy asks you to call off and go fishing, GO.  Some day you won’t be able to.  If a girlfriend asks you to go have a cup of coffee but the schedule you’ve planned for the day won’t fit it, throw out that page in the calendar and GO.  Some day she won’t be there to ask.  If your kid asks you to come see them at a party at school midday, CALL OFF AND GO.  One day, they won’t even call you to say hello.  Of course we need to work, and we need to take care of kids and a house, but we don’t need to get so caught up in these things that we lose sight of what is important. 

A million dollars would make anyone happy for the moment, but the money will eventually run out.  Time.  Love.  Quality relationships that build us up and inspire us.  These things are the true treasures.  These things should be sacrificed for, these things should be a focal point for our attention.   Repair what’s broken instead of throwing it away and if it’s beyond fixing, lose no sleep in throwing it away.  Don’t trouble over hurt when their is so much to love.  Don’t focus on tears when there is so much to laugh about.  When you hear a good song, dance no matter where you are and who is around.  Give hugs.  Help a stranger.  Reach out to someone you’ve hurt.  Play with your kids.

My wake up call was very loud yesterday and thankfully I allowed myself to hear it, loud and clear.  I have a lot of answering to do, a lot of wrongs to right and a lot of garbage to dispose of.  This life is full of choices and even the bad ones will direct our future.  Choose wisely. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is there a right or a wrong answer or should I just breathe?

The universe in which we live can be a pretty amazing place to put a head down and be a part of. Its filled with natural beauty no artist could ever recreate, a diversity from one country to the next that movie producers only hope to capture, and a power in relationships that a world renowned author prays to portray. It can also, at times, be a hard place to want to wake up in every day and over the last few weeks I’ve had my fair share of both.

Though I’m probably one of the worst Christians to ever walk the face of this earth, meaning more often than not I take to my own way of doing things, I do, in most things, hold firm to certain values and ideals I was raised upon. The ideals that there is a God, a great One, a loving One, a firm One but a fair One. This God is there for us in our time of need, He is there when we don’t want or need Him to be, and His way is the only way we will get to heaven after our human form takes it’s last breath. These things I agree with, but it’s all the stuff in between that makes “walking the walk” a little tougher to….well….walk.

I’ve never been a trusting person. I’ve always been predominantly shy in social circles and kept only a few people close. Even those few were kept at arms length for a time, some still are, and because in my short 32 years of life, I have been crushed from the inside out by the people who meant the most to me, the closest to me, family, lovers and friends. The people I let my guard down to, the people I gave my heart and bared my soul to, the people who I’ve depended on for an ear or a hand or a hug, have let me down. My story is probably the same for at least half of the human population, but to me it is unique, to me it is harder, because it’s mine and I’ve walked it, alone. In being this way, I’ve tricked myself into believing I’m protected, that I’m saving myself a world of hurt and rejection and more sadness. Ironically, realistically, I have missed the best opportunities for true friendship and to experience love in it’s truest form.

The Bible tells us when someone wrongs us to forgive them. 70×7 we are to turn the other cheek, what does that mean exactly though? Jesus walked with more sinners than He did saints and we, as followers, are to follow His footsteps and constantly ask ourselves “What Would Jesus Do?”. Would Jesus approve of a person consistently being surrounded by lies to remain in a bad place and forced to suffer the pain those lies inflict? Would Jesus be okay watching someone be walked on and emotionally neglected daily because of words only one meant spoken in a church many years ago? Would He want someone to embrace a family member who threatened their loved ones for the sake of the “family” name? The would He’s and what if’s are endless based on who you are and where you’ve been. Is there any right or wrong answer?

I’m all about giving people second chances, I have given several chances to several people over the years and these “chances” have given me nothing but more of the same, only with a different background scene and sometimes different characters. If I say I love God and believe in Him, am I forced, then, for the sake of this belief, to live out a miserable existance, surrounded by people who bring me down? God is a selfish God, but WE aren’t permitted to be selfish. Does this mean it’s selfishness, and therefore a sin, to want a life full of happiness sprinkled with pain instead of the opposite? Or is it okay to have enough and say you’ve had enough and put boundaries up to avoid more “enough” to rear it’s ugly head into your future? God will always love us, but will we be punished for only forgiving 200 times instead of 490?

I believe forgiveness takes a strong soul, a tough stomach. It takes courage, it takes humility. It takes the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes and live through their perspective if only momentarily. It takes understanding and compassion, even when you are so angry, not even a straight jacket could keep you contained. The act of forgiveness is not shameful, it’s not foolish, it’s as Christ like as they come. And while Jesus did mingle with the bad guys, He never acted like them, He never appeased them or ignored their faults or condoned their behavior. He separated Himself from the sin and continued to love and pray for the sinner. To me, then, separating yourself from those who harm you or bring you ill will is not condemned, so long as you harbor no bitterness in your heart. And that ugly word is a conversation for another blog:)

I don’t write this to offend those of the Christian faith, and if I have than I truly apologize. My intent is simply to attempt and sort out my current questions of life, love and faith into something I can make sense of and grab onto in order to move forward in the best way. Maybe I am a doubting Thomas, maybe I’m thinking too much from the head and not enough from my heart, something I am guilty of a lot. Maybe in writing this all down I will get hit with a bolt of realization and my questions will no longer be. And maybe it’s just a bunch of useless words on a page I’ve wasted about an hour putting together. What I do know is this. Every scenario is different, to each of us, which makes the joy of being individuals in this vast and crazy universe more powerful. What answer applies to me may not fit for you and that’s okay. It doesn’t make your idea right or mine wrong, it makes it different because I have red heels and you prefer blue pumps. God has a different path for each of us so why not a different set of rules to go along with that path? Of course certain things will always remain black and white. But if He allows us to encounter different people in our lifetimes, and He brings us all a unique set of circumstances and heartache to conquer or run from, can’t what He tells us differ from soul to soul? Person to person?

Maybe I’ll never know the answer, maybe I’ll never have the guts enough or faith enough to face that answer, but I do know this. Everyone has a breaking point and there is no shame or evil in admitting that. Maybe this is a human attribute and not of God. I believe our conscience, however, is a gift from God, and from the moment we reach mental understanding, we have it at our disposal to guide our steps. That conscience is our “crap-o-meter”. It tells us what’s good and bad, what to run to and what to run from, what to fear and what to love. It weeds out the bad eggs from the good. From time to time it may need a tune up, we may let the bad trickle in, but to deny it’s warnings is to deny not only the best our life is trying to give, but God’s direction.

“Above all, be true to yourself, and if you cannot put your heart into it, then take yourself out of it” – Hardy Jackson

All original content Copyright Sara D Elzerman, 2013.

The do’s and DO NOT EVER’s of public restroom etiquette, 101

It is used by many, cleaned by less and loathed by all (dum dah dum) . . . .the public restroom. We all have a sickening story or five about what we’ve seen, or heard, upon entering into one of these facilities and I think it’s safe to say that no matter how old or young you may be, there are a set of unspoken rules one must follow to make this already hideous experience managable.

I am a member of what society deems “the fairer sex”. Most of us women types are bred from a very wee age to be clean, whether we are doing so for ourselves or others, to be polite, to use manners in everything we do, and above all else, to be a LADY. We put our pinkies up when we drink, we cross our legs in a skirt . . .well . . .most of us do . . .and we personify grace with every move we make. These teachings, apparently, were left out of Charmaines school of potty ethics and so if you will, please take a moment for a lesson of the top 10 behaviors a lady should exude while tending to nature:

10) Your momma/husband/maid doesn’t work here, and we, your coworkers, will not substitute in their absence. I don’t get paid enough to do my own job, let alone clean up after your laziness too. If you get water all over the sink, wipe it up. If you miss the garbage can with your paper towels or, um, “napkins”, pick them up and try try again. Practice makes perfect.

9) Pee belongs IN the bowl. Not around it, not on it, not on the floor surrounding it, INSIDE THE ACTUAL BOWL, where the water sits, in there. If you miss -and I don’t even want to begin imagining how this happens- there is free toilet paper at your disposal to take care of the problem. And yes, ladies, pee all over the seat for a woman who was anatomically DESIGNED to sit her bum down and have all the room in the world to make the target, IS A PROBLEM.

8) Sound affects are AWESOME in stereo surround sitting in the movie theatre, or snuggled up next to your significant other, but they are anything but awesome in the john. I don’t need to hear you grunting like you are benching your weight at the gym, I don’t want to hear you breathing heavy, I don’t want to hear you at all to be honest, I want to pretend you are not even there, so get in, get out, like a stealth spy, and we are golden.

7) If you use the last of the TP, do everyone a favor. It’s okay in this instance to NOT be a tree hugger, the more paper the better, in fact. Share. Either find someone to replace the roll, grab some paper towel and place it on the dowel where the old TP used to live, or grab some TP from the next stall and set it up so the person waiting behind you does not have to “drip dry”. That’s just not nice.

6) Wash. Your. Hands. Please. With soap. Do this. Even if you feel your germs are superior to other’s, even if you swear you are germ free after this event, that no “waste” came anywhere near your paw. While that truly may be the case, that point is irrelevant. There were germs hanging out already when you sat, and then on the paper you touched, and when you touched the door and then when you flushed the toilet, probably up to 20 others shared germs too. And now you, in your delusional “germ free zone” are going to spread your germs AND those 25 others all over the office that I have to breathe in for 7 hours each day. Soap is free, towel is free, PLUS it gets you at least 2 other minutes out of the hum drum bore of the office. Win win all the way around!

5) Do not talk to me while I’m in the stall. You can catch me before, you can hit me up after, but not in the middle. That is my safe place. When that door shuts, so should all outside distractions and conversations. I have one job to do, one that isn’t interesting, a dirty one, and I don’t want to be talking about your love life, my children, and everything in between while I do it. This isn’t like walking in the park, or cooking dinner while on the cell, there are private things going on in there and I do not want you in my head while I’m doing them.

4) So there is this handle looking thing toward the top/back of the toilet, see, and if you push it down, the water and all that’s in the water, will go down this hole to this faraway place that noone needs or wants to know about. It’s magical, really, so be a part of that magic and please . . . .when you are done . . .PUSH THAT LEVER. Also, hang out a minute to make sure it did, in fact, go down that hole. I have this really bad habit of holding things in me until the last minute, with most things in life, including this subject, so when I am ready to go, and that stall opens up, I am IN, and I don’t have time to unbutton my jeans most days, let alone to be grossed out by the art project the last person left behind.

3) Most women have an “aunt flo”, or a “special friend”, or a “time” that comes to visit them every month. None of us particularly enjoy this aunt/friend/time, yet it happens all the same, and we are obligated to do our due diligence in making sure she has the most cleanest of stays imaginable. Regardless of what your grandma said, you CAN flush your tampons down that magical hole I was talking about above. And if you choose to opt for a “padded” option, PLEASE wrap it up before you pitch it. And when you do pitch it, make sure it goes all the way to the bottom of the handy singled out trash bag that each stall is blessed with, so that the next user does not have to get your aunt’s remains on her hands. Yes, ladies, GROSS. It’s bad enough we have our own, we don’t need to deal with your’s too.

2) While commonly a woman is taught that “number two” should be avoided publicly at all times, I will be the first to admit, sometimes it is 100% unavoidable. A lady should have no fear, however, as she should always be prepared and in saying that I mean, they make travel sized perfume and body sprays for a reason. They are fairly cheap, some free. Sneak this sweet stuff in your pocket or your purse, and do not be afraid to bear arms. I personally do not want to come back from lunch and smell someone else’s from the hour before . . .yea, sorry I guess that was a bit much . . . .I’d much rather smell the 2.00 baby soft we used as teens. Help a sister out:)

1) NUMERO UNO, we have reached the end and so we exit with a bang . . . .or rather, a bomb, or rather, DO NOT BOMB. Bombs over baghdad was an awful song, and one I certainly do not want to hear it in the bathroom, live action, from a coworker, that I have to sit with and look at for the rest of the afternoon with a new found air of disgust circling her figure. If you know you are on the verge of a number two situation (as in see above #2 situation), and we all KNOW, ladies, when this time is upon us . . . .if your space is currently occupied with other lingering shoes under the doors, as you feel the fireworks getting ready to pop, three words . . .PREEMPTIVE COURTESY FLUSH. Kills two birds with one stone as follows: Noone else has to hear your turmoil and face embarassment, both for you as the injured and for them being a witness AND the smell will be significantly less if it isn’t lingering around for minutes. You may use this flush as much as possible, I’d much rather hear 10-20 water swirls than, well, the other.

I have omitted rules for the male genre because I am not of this species and something tells me that a good portion of the above is actually done on purpose for reactions sake as guys tend to have a different set of “rules” in this department. I will leave them that as I am never affected by it, but should the day ever come where I am, be ready boys, I will be waiting.

All of these scenarios I have personally faced in inspiration of this list, about three of them just this afternoon, which has prompted my immediate call to action. What would your mother’s say, ladies, your grandmothers? While I am a firm believer in doing your own thing and living for you, I also know we all choose to habitate in a home vs a pig pen. 90% of the time we love our human nature, and therefore, let’s be human, in all areas of our life, and release. What you wouldn’t do for you, don’t force upon someone else.

“Just be clean, girls. That is all.” – Longnote

All original content copyright, Sara Elzerman, 2013.

I have arrived

Words.  Some say they mean nothing without action.  Some say they are more dangerous than a loaded gun.  Which is it?  I believe words are powerful.  Words have the ability to inspire the soul, to kill the heart, to change a mood, to change a life.    Look at the kid in school who can’t hold his head high in the halls because his peers refer to him as “the freak” for wearing the wrong clothes and daring to show any individuality.  Look at the mother who tells her child every day that she loves them.  Look at the doctor who just delivered the news to family that their loved one has passed on.  Look at the friends who after years of silent feelings toward one another finally speak them out loud.  Tell these people words mean nothing. Tell these people words have no affect on the future of their footprints.    Words are never just words, sometimes the simple action of speaking them is more combustive than an atomic bomb.  And so, I write, to own a little bit of that power and consume it’s beauty.  Up until today i have only written to feel, to vent, to remember, to breathe.  I’ve been afraid of my own power to the point of self suffocation.  I start a book, and I quit when it gets too emotionally intense to push through, or I’ll start editing mid through to second guess myself and what once was inspiring is now covered in x’s and red marks, and so today, I write for bravery.  I write to share, I write to open, I write to get my butt off the lazy chair, or in my case, my huge comfy queen sized bed, and publish a novel.  And that is today’s life lesson according to Longnote, followed by inspiration in the form of a quote :

Words  are also actions, and actions are a kind of words.
Ralph  Waldo Emerson
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/words_6.html#fj0pXskwr7gpo9uY.99