Tuesday, April 8, 2008


I've been trying and trying to think about what to write lately, and it boils down to the same old shadowboxing that I tend to do....

Some examples of the things I could have written about recently, but ended up arguing both sides so successfully that I wrote nothing instead:

Do I want to write about a petty argument with an internet chick that has bothered me a lot?

No, because 1.) that would be gossiping and I would likely turn judgmental, insomuch that I would then become the type of person which I hate, and 2.) it would mean that I actually care what this person thinks of me...real or perceived. I'm above that, right? Not really. Heather is still quite insecure about the things that matter most, despite a bold, confident facade.

Do I yearn to write about some delicate family of origin stuff, multiple instances?

Yes, because as much as I am happy for the one instance, I am also cautious and wish to seek balance between these two mindsets. This being my therapeutic outlet where better to sort through this myriad of feelings? Yes, for the second instance because it is freaking stranger than fiction, and I am waiting for somebody in my family to appear on Jerry Springer any day. But then....as much as it might be cathartic for me to get out, share, explore and/or poke fun of (sarcasm is my most primal coping mechanism) I'm not blogging it because I don't wish to cause hurt feelings as much of my writing regarding the FOO has tended to do...we do not have the same kind of understanding as Charlie Brown and I do in this arena.

Which, hey, I have to give Charlie Brown serious props, as he is an amazingly secure guy to let me air our dirty laundry as I have on here, and HONEY, I LOVE THAT ABOUT YOU!!!

Do I want to write about how the brain fog has descended upon me once again, how I'm having trouble coordinating my tongue with my thoughts, how I'm forgetting things, procrastinating in a way that is wildly different than my normally uber responsible self? How it really freaking bugs me when I get like this because I lose my wit and humor a la that one episode of Seinfeld where George comes up with his snarky comebacks DAYS later? I'm sharp as a tack, or can be, so where the hell did that sharpness go?

Yes, I do want to write about it. But the right words just don't come with precision - I want to capture it, and be heard with piercing clarity, and yet my thoughts on this state of mind I am in remain gray, fuzzy, difficult to communicate. Nor do they come with alacrity, readily available for my quick dispatch to the internet that this is IT, EXACTLY, that I'm going through and now please send validation, thankyouverymuch. And then, hell no, I don't want to write about it, because for once damn it, I want to be non-struggling! I want to be free and definitive in who I am, safe and secure, but mostly, content. I have a restless spirit....so much so that I sit here in awe that I've remained faithful, that Charlie Brown and I are staring down the barrel of double digits in marriage, that I haven't just bailed ship and said, "Onto the next great adventure." Sometimes I wonder if I am just by nature an unhappy person. Other times I realize that an unhappy person is usually quite content to be the Eeyore of their group. I am not. And that makes sharing about these depressive struggles of mine so difficult with people face to face. But here, here I can write about it. Even if I don't want to because when I return to this place I think in supposed to's and should not's, i.e. you shouldn't be here, again, you're supposed to be getting better with this. Well....I guess I did write something of substance here, after all, even if paradoxical substance.

Do I want to write about how ironic it is that some people take me as narcissistic because I write about my achievements, yet if they truly knew me they would know that it is not boasting?

Point: Yes. It's true that I have a category that claims its contents are bragging rights, but see above re: sarcasm. Anyone who knows me knows that I am much too insecure to be that serious about myself, lol. Finally, I have to remind myself everyday that despite what the world, my neurotransmitters, etc are telling me that I am changing. My family legacy, my community, myself. Without these little reminders, I would lose this "good race" that I am running. Counterpoint: No. For what in hell do I need to prove myself to some small-minded person who knows jack about me? I have a close relationship with my Lord, a deep faith - often pressure cooked and seasoned with doubts, but a rich and satisfying faith at the end of the day - that tells me I am doing what My Creator put me here for.

Do I want to write about the shitty e-mail I got last week from one of the nighttime dudes for the inclement weather shelter? Or how his subsequent phone call was an un-apology and a condescending, patriarchal, "let-me-put-you-in-your-right-proper-place-young-lady" lecture about how *I* had to be careful with my words when he'd ACTUALLY written words as offensive as "Maybe you ought to try yoga or deep breathing" whereas my communication glitch was more a perception problem than actual mal-intent.

Yes. I want to give ya'll the blow-by-blow, dissect every little statement and nuance in this man with a hero-delusion's e-mail. But, no, I'm a bigger woman than that man could ever give me credit for. I rest assured on the words of Laurel Thatcher Ulrich...make no mistake, I am not out to create a name for myself, rather I wish to advance change for the quality of lives of others. And sitting around, bowing down to men who don't uphold their community pledges (to provide shelter to the homeless when it is x degrees out) isn't exactly going to do that. Asking pointed questions about the damned elephants in the room and keeping people accountable will...eventually. Right?

Do I want to write about how the unbloggable scholarly excitement has turned out to be mere manipulation by an academic hoping to eke out some additional cash prior to retiring? How he used me and two other graduate students to expand upon his initial proposal to the university for an encore class, brand the class with a catchy title, and then market this proposal to the university administraters, all on the now-farcical premise that he would, of course, ask that we be hired to help him facilitate the class?

Hell yes, I do want to write about it. I want to shred this professor into mincemeat. This one had me mad, in my white-trash upbringing kind of mad....which was kind of funny when I was conversing with my lily-white always-had-been-upper-middle-class colleague, who was equally pissed, but with much more decorum. Alas, I fear that such a post could be construed as slander given no written agreements were ever formally drawn up. Hello, my name is Heather Meyer and I've been totally punked by a professor. Never again. I am also curious if he gave the drawings our class developed together proper credit when he used them to lecture at DePaul U this spring? I know he used them at least because he'd e-mailed me about getting them in a more user friendly format prior to the class shiz hitting the fan.

Internets, I can't make this stuff up. Why is it that things just pile up on me like this?

Anywho's bro is here now and I must get to properly entertaining, er feeding, him. Love that guy, I do.

© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved


  1. Oh Red.....SO much of that sucks I just don't know where to start! I think I'll just fixate on the prof, though....BASTARD!!! I'm so angry that he would mess with you like that!! GRRRRRR! Really, that was very frustrating to read. I'm so sorry that you were mislead that way! Hugs to you!!

  2. Oooooooh goodness you have a lot to be blocked about! Sheesh... the poop needs to stop... *HUGS* I too like Lynn think that professor needs to be run out and flogged... just lightly but make it hurt. GRR!

  3. After running and grabbing my magnifying glass so I could read your beautiful words (yes even in angst its beauty) you are loved.

    Mean people suck.

    Sometimes I are thinks its them there nice to sound dumb and not so smartstacated. It's relieving....

    Life is complicated.... complicated!

    When in doubt dye your hair, change your name and flee the country. I'm kidding! I think. If I suddenly start commenting as "Sally" don't panic!