Risk assessment

First she was the annoying three-year-old sister of one of my classmates, following us and trying to play along in our games when we played in her basement.  Then she was an eight-year-old that I knew better than her sister that was once my friend and I marvelled at how she wore her white hightop sneakers on the wrong feet on purpose. Soon she was eleven with tall shellacked bangs and curly dark hair.  And then she was fourteen and we'd grown apart.

 

D was never young when I knew him, but he was young at heart and trying hard to heal an old wound, probably more than one old wound actually.  I was only trying out my flirting skills, learning to control my new superpower - I didn't know what flirting could lead to until him.  When we agreed that it was a bad idea for him to attend Prom with me, I was relieved.  I liked the cachet I received from the whispers of the few who know without the stares we would've received if he had come.  I've never had any desire to be an animal in a zoo or the subject of paparazzi. 

 

Clearly she didn't consider those risks either when she made her choices.  Ten years didn't seem like a problem, much the same way that he and I discounted eight.  And now she has eight years of supervision in front of her and a lifetime of registration, questions in job interviews.  Now she has to start a new life at the same age that I released D, making him find another future as well.

Leaving it behind

Our friend BP stopped by just after my study group left one night. He came into my room where I was putting the finishing touches on the homework set we had just finished and began to talk, "I was downstairs at PJ's just now. I came by because I wanted to talk to him, but his girlfriend Lara came by a few minutes after I did."


Hearing Lara's name still hurt a bit but, not wanting to BP to catch on, I murmured agreeably.

"She comes in and plops down in the chair that PJ was sitting in. The whole time I was trying to talk him, she is sitting on top of him and touching him. Doesn't he know how much that bothers me since my break up? I don't want to see that."

Mentally I'm thinking, "I don't want to hear this. Can't he tell how much this is hurting me?", but now BP is on a roll venting and all I can do is try to partially tune him out. My lack of response finally had its desired effect when BP left, seemingly relieved at having told someone who understood how tortured he felt and seemingly oblivious to the pain he had just pushed onto me.


I sat on the floor of my room, surrounded by a haze of depression and emotional pain. My friend from across the hall came over with her copy of our homework and settled down to work, but I couldn't keep my focus on my textbook. I wanted to be smaller somehow and protected from all this pain. Without saying a word I got up from the floor and went into the bathroom. I left the lights off, feeling safer in the pitch dark room, and went into the far corner of the shower stall where I sat with my arms around my raised knees.


At first it was difficult to quiet my rioting thoughts and I was afraid of someone coming in to find me. What would they think of me hiding in a completely dark shower stall? But after a few minutes my body began to adopt the quiet of the room and I felt some peace. The pain was still there but I didn't feel so completely overwhelmed by it.


The door opened and I braced for discovery. My roommate, BLB, turned on the light and said my name. Thank goodness it was that friend, someone I felt safe revealing my weakness and pain to. I responded and she opened the door to the shower area. She gave me a hand getting up off the cool tile floor and with just a few words I followed her out, leaving most of my pain behind.

Loving Colorado winters

Tuesday afternoon I gazed out my office window, shocked at the huge snowflakes falling purposefully towards the parking lot - and my car - below. I then looked down at my shoes -- cute brown flats that I had thrown on over my bare feet that morning and hoped the flurry would be extraordinarily short-lived.

I left the office very late that night. I was glad that I had my long winter coat and scarf, but that didn't help the tops of my feet from getting chilled from the wind. As I got close to my car, the fluffy snow began to cling to my pants cuffs, brushing against my feet with every mincing step I took. I gratefully sank into my driver's seat, only then considering how the car was covered in nearly three inches of snow and I wouldn't be going anywhere until all the snow was brushed off, so I steeled my resolve and headed back into the night with one glove and my snow scraper, cursing the capricious nature of Colorado winters.

Thursday Thirteen: Lincoln's birthday edition

1. I have been obsessed with Abraham Lincoln for as long as I can remember.
2. I was frustrated as a first-grader because one of my Lincoln story books had his mother's name wrong.
3. I dressed up as Abraham Lincoln for our "Night of the Notables" in fourth grade.
4. For that event, I also created a diorama of Lincoln's assassination using flexible baseball action figures for President Lincoln, Mary Todd Lincoln, Major Rathbone, his fiance Clara Harris & John Wilkes Booth.
5. When I was in eighth grade I got a shirt with a giant penny on the front of it.
6. I made a hairclip to match by hot-gluing pennies to a plain barrette.
7. I just got rid of that hairclip when I moved last year, but I still have the shirt.
8. As a Senior Girl Scout I had the amazing opportunity to spend ten days in Gettysburg with fifty other Girl Scouts who were equally as obsessed as I was.
9. We recreated Pickett's Charge during part of our time on the battlefield and spent time in the cemetery at Gettysburg.
10. We took a day trip to D.C. where we visited the White House, Ford's Theater & the Peterson Boarding House, as well as Arlington Cemetery.
11. I once inadvertently spent an entire Saturday in bed watching books about Lincoln on CSPAN's Book TV -- the first time I'd ever watched that channel.
12. Last year I went out of my way to take 10 minutes to speedwalk through the Lincoln Bicentennial travelling exhibit between meetings and heading to the airport because I was afraid I wouldn't get another chance -- and then got to see it at a leisurely pace this summer when it was in Denver during the DNC.
13. Happy 200th birthday President Lincoln!

Why I love working with engineers

Love Letter to Yourself

I found this fascinating quote today:

The other thing I’m going to do is write me a letter. A love letter. Seriously. You know the old saying that you need to love yourself before others will love you (or something like that). Here I am, coming off a long, long relationship where I thought I loved another person - and I thought he loved me. To be honest, losing that love has shaken my whole concept of love; what it really is, how you get it and how you give it.Debbie Harris, Coffee For One, Feb 2009

Her questions about love really resonated with me. I feel very comfortable with unconditional familial love but, when it comes to romantic love, I find myself less confident to express what it is and how to give it.

Debbie goes on to ask what you would write in a love letter to yourself? I find it a very thought provoking exercise. Visit her blog to comment, or leave your ideas here.

New year, new errors

How long does it take me to learn that it is 2009 when I'm writing the date? 

 

Not long enough to avoid using 2009 instead of 2008 when doing end-of-the-year spreadsheets.