I'm in Chicago right now, doing a success speaker seminar. I always thought I was a decent speaker. Maybe even really good. Then we had our exercises. I realize that I use up a lot of nervous energy with "uhm" and "ok" and "so" and "well" that the talk uhmm sounds uhm like I'm uhm pausing so much uhm because uhm I have to think about what I say next. Yes, that's me. It's easier on the written page. You can edit and you can edit and you can edit. Speech is a little different. For someone with as much energy as I have, it's very difficult to edit the uhms while I'm talking at 200 miles per minute. In our exercise, I had great feedback. People loved my energy. Yay! That's great. Now, it's time to delete the "uhm" and add pauses instead. ARRRRGGGHHHHH. Do you guys have any idea on how difficult it is for me?
We tried our exercises again and the second time around I was a mess. It was horrible. It was a "tell her to sit down and quit while she's ahead" mess. I tried and I was failing miserably. Pause. Come on, you can do this. Pause. I kept trying to tell myself. Well, the funny thing with that is it takes you away from the talk when you are focused on the word pause or focused on pausing and focused on when to pause and how long to pause. Well, I thought I was pausing until the facilitator came up to a stumbling me and said, "Pause!" What the hell have I been trying to do so long? Haven't I been pausing enough already? No, I didn't say it. I was thinking it, but I followed direction. I paused. Then I froze. Yes, I froze. Completely blanked out. And then I broke down into laughter. "OK. I can do this," I said, took a deep breath and continued.
I was far worse than the first go around. Uhm I was uhm better than uhm falling flat on my face uhm in front of uhm everyone! I came back to my hotel room and I think about it. One of my colleagues said to me, "But you are fine. You are an actress!" and I explain to her how acting works. I explain to her how every word and intonation is memorized and practiced over and over and over again until it is internalized and you become the character. I asked her, "Do I want to write every one of these lectures and memorize them with intonation?" I forgot to mention movement to her. Yes, as an actress you have to memorize that too. If that was the case, I can do it. If I'm doing a lecture on improv then it's a whole new ballgame for me. Then it's a challenge and I don't know how I feel about challenges being 45 years old. I think about practice and persistence. That's the only way. The people who make it in life, are those who get up consistently, over and over and over, until they make it. They don't quit. We all experience challenges. How are we going to deal with them?
For me, for now, I'm not sure. I feel overwhelmed by this new challenge. Time to face the mirror and decide on the "uhm elimination". It's really frustrating. It's testing and pushing me to my limits. I have to change and it's not easy. Good luck to me, right! I'll need all the luck in the world and more if I have to get past these gates.
That's all I have for now. Hope you are all well,
Talk later,
TTR
Friday, August 4, 2017
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Muny tickets - 'til death do us part
Real quick, for those of you from another country who may have just stumbled upon my blog. The Muny is America's oldest and largest outdoor theatre. It is in one of the largest parks in the United States - Forest Park. Yes, we are bigger than Central Park in New York. This is in St. Louis, Missouri and going to the Muny is a part of St. Louis summer traditions. On with this post.
This past Tuesday, we were at the Muny for one of our rescheduled sessions of Something Happened on the way to the Forum. Phenomenal performance, but that's not the point of this post. The person sitting next to me talked about how they were not in their usual seasons seats, in row A. Wow! Row A? Those are usually seats that have been and continue to be in families for decades. Yes, decades. Most people don't give up those seats, except through death and not having a child. So, I asked him how long he has had those seats. He said a few years. A few years? That's less than 10 years and in my book, from everything I know about prime Muny tickets, that's not possible. How can you start a few years ago, like I did, and start on row A? I wanted to know.
He explains. It was technically not his seats. He didn't own them. Ah Ha! I knew it! The person who owned the tickets/seats has had them since 1916 is what he told me. We calculated to 102 years. Hmm. My math is off. Maybe he said 1915? Irrespective, that's a long time and if you have tickets to the Muny for so long, of course you are going to be in row A. Heck, at that point, you might as well be box seats A. As I'm typing this blog, I just realized that 102 years of holding those seats is simply not possible. The Muny turns 100 next year. So, maybe he meant 1960 or 1950 and it just sounded to me like 1916 or 1915? I remember the 102 years though. Oh well. That's not the point. The point is that the owner of those tickets on row A cannot transfer them. The Muny will not allow a transfer. Basically, the owners had several tickets in Row A and didn't use all of them anymore but they didn't want to give up those remaining tickets either. Why give them up? So, it moves laterally through them to their friends. My point in this is that everyone is doing it. No one is giving up their tickets. They keep it but have their friends pay for it or just give it away to their friends and it's all noble and fine. I feel that since it's already going on, why not allow a transfer of those tickets to the person of the owner's choice. It's happening anyway! The Muny rule is keep it in the family, but is it really being kept in the family?
I recently heard of a woman who doesn't even live in St. Louis anymore but she doesn't want to give up her tickets. She maybe comes to one show out of 7 and gives the rest away. I don't know. I guess it's like owning property or a home in another state that you never use. Why can't someone just buy that home from you? Well, no one wants to give up their prime property, right? And without the transferability (or sale of home) to friends or even nieces/nephews, one would want to keep it. I feel, ticket transfers should be allowed. Why not? Or maybe it's not allowed so in cases of death, there can be movement after all, but if there was transferability, there would be no movement and people in the rows at back will not ever be able to move forward.
So, my forward progress inches along. I think I've had Muny season's tickets for 7 years now. I was able to move 3 rows forward this season from row J to row G. It is something. If I ever get lucky enough to hit the row A in my lifetime, I would want my niece to be able to take it from me before I pass away. Otherwise, those tickets cannot be willed.
For now, any movement of tickets, literally means the death of someone. I can give up my Fox tickets after this season but I won't be willing to give up my Muny tickets. I never considered it, but looks like I'll have Muny tickets 'til death do us part.
Before I go, a quick note to those of you who have never been to the Muny. If you are in the St. Louis area in the summer, try a show there. It's well worth it. It's a neat experience.
Best to you all,
TTR
This past Tuesday, we were at the Muny for one of our rescheduled sessions of Something Happened on the way to the Forum. Phenomenal performance, but that's not the point of this post. The person sitting next to me talked about how they were not in their usual seasons seats, in row A. Wow! Row A? Those are usually seats that have been and continue to be in families for decades. Yes, decades. Most people don't give up those seats, except through death and not having a child. So, I asked him how long he has had those seats. He said a few years. A few years? That's less than 10 years and in my book, from everything I know about prime Muny tickets, that's not possible. How can you start a few years ago, like I did, and start on row A? I wanted to know.
He explains. It was technically not his seats. He didn't own them. Ah Ha! I knew it! The person who owned the tickets/seats has had them since 1916 is what he told me. We calculated to 102 years. Hmm. My math is off. Maybe he said 1915? Irrespective, that's a long time and if you have tickets to the Muny for so long, of course you are going to be in row A. Heck, at that point, you might as well be box seats A. As I'm typing this blog, I just realized that 102 years of holding those seats is simply not possible. The Muny turns 100 next year. So, maybe he meant 1960 or 1950 and it just sounded to me like 1916 or 1915? I remember the 102 years though. Oh well. That's not the point. The point is that the owner of those tickets on row A cannot transfer them. The Muny will not allow a transfer. Basically, the owners had several tickets in Row A and didn't use all of them anymore but they didn't want to give up those remaining tickets either. Why give them up? So, it moves laterally through them to their friends. My point in this is that everyone is doing it. No one is giving up their tickets. They keep it but have their friends pay for it or just give it away to their friends and it's all noble and fine. I feel that since it's already going on, why not allow a transfer of those tickets to the person of the owner's choice. It's happening anyway! The Muny rule is keep it in the family, but is it really being kept in the family?
I recently heard of a woman who doesn't even live in St. Louis anymore but she doesn't want to give up her tickets. She maybe comes to one show out of 7 and gives the rest away. I don't know. I guess it's like owning property or a home in another state that you never use. Why can't someone just buy that home from you? Well, no one wants to give up their prime property, right? And without the transferability (or sale of home) to friends or even nieces/nephews, one would want to keep it. I feel, ticket transfers should be allowed. Why not? Or maybe it's not allowed so in cases of death, there can be movement after all, but if there was transferability, there would be no movement and people in the rows at back will not ever be able to move forward.
So, my forward progress inches along. I think I've had Muny season's tickets for 7 years now. I was able to move 3 rows forward this season from row J to row G. It is something. If I ever get lucky enough to hit the row A in my lifetime, I would want my niece to be able to take it from me before I pass away. Otherwise, those tickets cannot be willed.
For now, any movement of tickets, literally means the death of someone. I can give up my Fox tickets after this season but I won't be willing to give up my Muny tickets. I never considered it, but looks like I'll have Muny tickets 'til death do us part.
Before I go, a quick note to those of you who have never been to the Muny. If you are in the St. Louis area in the summer, try a show there. It's well worth it. It's a neat experience.
Best to you all,
TTR
The odd one out
We're all unique in our own ways, but sometimes, how unique is too unique. When does the bell shaped norm drift into an outlier? It all started at my office. As a business owner, we're always looking for new ways to market the practice. Of course, there's the "what are other offices doing?" question. Should I, as a business owner, market my business that way or should I go about it with what I know (which is not much at all, unfortunately).
Recently, I heard of a marketing plan that another office was using. They were raffling tickets to Ed Sheeran (whoever that is) or the Cardinals. I guess in their office, there was an option for which raffle one wanted to win. You could only pick one. Apparently, for this office, 70% of their patients wanted the Cardinals tickets. I was talking with someone who said they would want the Cardinals tickets and that they never missed a single game. Someone else said Ed Sheeran. I said, I wouldn't enter either raffle. I take that back. I would probably enter and then give the tickets away if I won.
Then it hit me. All my marketing plans with raffling items would not be as successful, because it does not follow the platinum rule. I do not feel the pulse of the average person. We have raffled Oral B's latest toothbrush ($200 value) and we didn't get much interest. I guess, raffling items that people don't care about is not a good idea. Who cares about their teeth? Seriously? Apparently, what I value is not what the average person values, for the most part. I probably should have considered that a great toothbrush is not as fun as a sports or a concert ticket.
Regarding show tickets, I know what tickets I would want to raffle for my office - musical tickets to the Muny or the Fox. Maybe even symphony orchestra tickets, but the average person would give me that "I'm so sorry you are that way" look. Yet again, I'm reminded of a post from 2 years ago, still sitting in my unfinished pile. It was part of my trip to LA with my cousins. What they loved is very different from what I value.
I can see where I'm different, but then I wonder. There has to be something to connect on? The only thing I can think of is Harry Potter. I share that experience with all those who have read the 7 book series, and the Harry Potter fans are in the majority; thank God for that! Maybe I am a part of something.
If I'm looking at it as a personal trait, I would say, yay! From a business point of view, I definitely need help. I don't want to raffle things people don't care about. Maybe I should just ask my older teenage patients about what they think is the coolest.
The obvious reasons for my disconnect may be age and a generation gap, but do we really want to go there? Yes, let's please delve into it for a brief moment. I will leave you all with this question regarding being more mature and having a change in interests compared to the younger generation. Snap chat. I think it's the dumbest thing ever! Seriously, I have people wanting to take my picture and make me look like a dog or a cat or add a dumb tiara on me or something stupid and then the picture comes out and everyone laughs. Isn't this just great? Ya right! SMH. Part of me thinks, "does this really float your boat? Seriously?" and sometimes I'll say it and sometimes I'll just walk away from the Snap chat hub of, in my opinion, childishness. Back to the age thing. There is someone I know who is 15 years older than me. One day she tells me about how the kids are doing this new thing called Snap chat and how much fun it is. I give her this incredulous look. I know what Snap chat is but I don't think it's fun. She tells me that I don't know what it is then. She brings out a picture and makes it one where the tongue sticks out like a cartoon. This is Snap chat, she tells me. Isn't this fun? I wonder if she is just faking it. Maybe age has nothing to do with it. I may just be an outlier yet again regarding what I find as interesting or worthy. Or maybe I'm boring. Such is life.
I do have to run and finish the other "draft" on my inbox but thought I would let you guys read this for a bit and see what you think.
TTR
Recently, I heard of a marketing plan that another office was using. They were raffling tickets to Ed Sheeran (whoever that is) or the Cardinals. I guess in their office, there was an option for which raffle one wanted to win. You could only pick one. Apparently, for this office, 70% of their patients wanted the Cardinals tickets. I was talking with someone who said they would want the Cardinals tickets and that they never missed a single game. Someone else said Ed Sheeran. I said, I wouldn't enter either raffle. I take that back. I would probably enter and then give the tickets away if I won.
Then it hit me. All my marketing plans with raffling items would not be as successful, because it does not follow the platinum rule. I do not feel the pulse of the average person. We have raffled Oral B's latest toothbrush ($200 value) and we didn't get much interest. I guess, raffling items that people don't care about is not a good idea. Who cares about their teeth? Seriously? Apparently, what I value is not what the average person values, for the most part. I probably should have considered that a great toothbrush is not as fun as a sports or a concert ticket.
Regarding show tickets, I know what tickets I would want to raffle for my office - musical tickets to the Muny or the Fox. Maybe even symphony orchestra tickets, but the average person would give me that "I'm so sorry you are that way" look. Yet again, I'm reminded of a post from 2 years ago, still sitting in my unfinished pile. It was part of my trip to LA with my cousins. What they loved is very different from what I value.
I can see where I'm different, but then I wonder. There has to be something to connect on? The only thing I can think of is Harry Potter. I share that experience with all those who have read the 7 book series, and the Harry Potter fans are in the majority; thank God for that! Maybe I am a part of something.
If I'm looking at it as a personal trait, I would say, yay! From a business point of view, I definitely need help. I don't want to raffle things people don't care about. Maybe I should just ask my older teenage patients about what they think is the coolest.
The obvious reasons for my disconnect may be age and a generation gap, but do we really want to go there? Yes, let's please delve into it for a brief moment. I will leave you all with this question regarding being more mature and having a change in interests compared to the younger generation. Snap chat. I think it's the dumbest thing ever! Seriously, I have people wanting to take my picture and make me look like a dog or a cat or add a dumb tiara on me or something stupid and then the picture comes out and everyone laughs. Isn't this just great? Ya right! SMH. Part of me thinks, "does this really float your boat? Seriously?" and sometimes I'll say it and sometimes I'll just walk away from the Snap chat hub of, in my opinion, childishness. Back to the age thing. There is someone I know who is 15 years older than me. One day she tells me about how the kids are doing this new thing called Snap chat and how much fun it is. I give her this incredulous look. I know what Snap chat is but I don't think it's fun. She tells me that I don't know what it is then. She brings out a picture and makes it one where the tongue sticks out like a cartoon. This is Snap chat, she tells me. Isn't this fun? I wonder if she is just faking it. Maybe age has nothing to do with it. I may just be an outlier yet again regarding what I find as interesting or worthy. Or maybe I'm boring. Such is life.
I do have to run and finish the other "draft" on my inbox but thought I would let you guys read this for a bit and see what you think.
TTR
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Marking my territory, the natural way of course!
The theory goes that some animals piss and mark their territory. Apparently, it works for them; something along the lines of the scent keeping other animals away. If you've been following my blog, you'll know that I've been working on my garden. Have been for years. What does marking territory have to do with this? Well, there are several factors that contribute to the success or failure of healthy blooms, or just plain flowering, for that matter. The obvious are sunshine and water. Then there's the cruel decapitation factor. Yes, I mean decapitation by deer. Their mouths are flower bud guillotines. I'll spend days watching the slow process of budding and it'll be so close to bloom and then a sudden chop! Deer have no heart or manners. Mostly, I'll just have to take my squashed heart, hide my tears and return home cursing those monsters. Please stop if you think deer are so cute. Why don't you try planting something only to have it be eaten away a couple of days before they bloom?
So anyway, this year, I got a gardener. He seems quite knowledgeable on keeping deer away. His first attempt was to put dog poop around the plants. Did not work. He assured me that he had another fail proof plan - to smear the dog poop on the underside of the leaves of my plants. He said it would smell for a day or so, and it would keep the deer away after that. Well, it's worked. Mostly.
This past week, the deer rummaged through my favorite decorative sedum, they ate my yaro buds (a flowering herb that apparently deer do not like), and they chopped off the top of my black eyed Susan. I don't even know what this flower looks like. I've been waiting for it to bloom. Needless to say, I am not happy. My gardener came to re-treat all my plants with the dog poop but somewhere I did not feel satisfied.
This past weekend was Eid and my family got together and while we sat outside my friend's home, we were discussing deer and how to keep them away. My friend said that she had heard human pee could be used to mark territory. We all joked. I told her to get her whole family, herself included, to get their act together and start contributing in a real sense with their pee! My friend joked back and told me to go do it first and to report on how efficient it was. Everyone laughed. I said, why not and then everyone laughed about avoiding cups in my bathroom because you never know what I might have used them for.
As my husband and I drove home, I told him that it would be worth a try. Animals do it! Maybe the deer won't even get close. They may never have to taste the dog poop on the leaves. I am not trying to be kind to the deer. Secretly, I wished they tasted the dog poop and were disgusted and never came back, but with pee, they would hopefully smell the pee from much further away and not even bother. To be very honest, I don't really know what I expected or how to go about marking my territory. They don't sell pee at the stores, do they? I didn't look, but I figured asking would raise some eyebrows. Who knows? It might get one arrested? All I knew was that I needed to collect my pee which means I needed to pee in a cup.
The adventure so begins. I took my warm cup of pee outside and lined an area of my garden closer to my sedum. Some of the pee got on the sedum. I thought to myself, "Ha! There you go deer. Dog poop and human pee. Deal with that!" I felt quite smug. So, this peeing in the cup and marking an area of my garden continued 3 more times. I tried to talk my husband into going outside and doing his business. He asked me what the neighbors would think. I told him to do it when no one was watching, obviously. He just shook his head at me, and I wondered what husbands were for, if they couldn't perform such a small favor.
It was 11pm when I poured my last cup of pee outside. I gave up on my husband helping me but I was happy and grinning from ear to ear. I just had to figure out a way to keep this up though. Four cups of pee didn't give me much area, and there's the whole wait factor between one pee to the next, but I was determined. As I was figuring out my strategy for marking my territory, it dawned on me that the whole thing started as a joke. Would this effort work at all? Perhaps I should Google it, and so I did.
I found an article about human pee and plants. Do NOT pee on plants because the acidity will kill the plants. There was a whole bunch of warnings about using full strength pee. If you are using pee to provide nitrogen for plants, make sure you dilute 20:1. That's 20 parts water. I had just spilled some full strength, fresh pee earlier that evening on my favorite sedum. Noooooo! In my attempt to save my plants, have I gone on an accidental killing rage? Death by pee acid.
The article continued to talk about using early morning pee as it contained more hormones and stuff. Great, I'd been using evening pee. The kicker is the article stated male pee not female pee should be used to mark territory because male hormones could imply aggression? Apparently, a guy should use his morning pee and pee high (at the level of a deer) at a nearby tree. Oh, and get this. They did not even know for sure if it worked as they didn't know anyone who had tried it. Is this a joke? Seemed legit, but oh my!
In desperation, at 11:15pm, I go to my husband and tell him about the pee spill on my sedum and a small part of my phlox. He suggested I go outside and pour water to dilute the areas. So, there I am at 11:15pm outside in the dark, pouring water on my plants, hoping to dilute my stupidity.
The good news. A couple of good news. I don't have to pee in a cup anymore. I'm glad my husband declined my request to pee outside. Apparently, if you get caught, you'll be put on the sex offender registry for the rest of your life! Ya. I don't think my husband wants to be on that.
That's my story for this week. I hope you all enjoyed the read and I'm sure you guys have a better head on your shoulders than I do!
Best to all,
TTR
So anyway, this year, I got a gardener. He seems quite knowledgeable on keeping deer away. His first attempt was to put dog poop around the plants. Did not work. He assured me that he had another fail proof plan - to smear the dog poop on the underside of the leaves of my plants. He said it would smell for a day or so, and it would keep the deer away after that. Well, it's worked. Mostly.
This past week, the deer rummaged through my favorite decorative sedum, they ate my yaro buds (a flowering herb that apparently deer do not like), and they chopped off the top of my black eyed Susan. I don't even know what this flower looks like. I've been waiting for it to bloom. Needless to say, I am not happy. My gardener came to re-treat all my plants with the dog poop but somewhere I did not feel satisfied.
This past weekend was Eid and my family got together and while we sat outside my friend's home, we were discussing deer and how to keep them away. My friend said that she had heard human pee could be used to mark territory. We all joked. I told her to get her whole family, herself included, to get their act together and start contributing in a real sense with their pee! My friend joked back and told me to go do it first and to report on how efficient it was. Everyone laughed. I said, why not and then everyone laughed about avoiding cups in my bathroom because you never know what I might have used them for.
As my husband and I drove home, I told him that it would be worth a try. Animals do it! Maybe the deer won't even get close. They may never have to taste the dog poop on the leaves. I am not trying to be kind to the deer. Secretly, I wished they tasted the dog poop and were disgusted and never came back, but with pee, they would hopefully smell the pee from much further away and not even bother. To be very honest, I don't really know what I expected or how to go about marking my territory. They don't sell pee at the stores, do they? I didn't look, but I figured asking would raise some eyebrows. Who knows? It might get one arrested? All I knew was that I needed to collect my pee which means I needed to pee in a cup.
The adventure so begins. I took my warm cup of pee outside and lined an area of my garden closer to my sedum. Some of the pee got on the sedum. I thought to myself, "Ha! There you go deer. Dog poop and human pee. Deal with that!" I felt quite smug. So, this peeing in the cup and marking an area of my garden continued 3 more times. I tried to talk my husband into going outside and doing his business. He asked me what the neighbors would think. I told him to do it when no one was watching, obviously. He just shook his head at me, and I wondered what husbands were for, if they couldn't perform such a small favor.
It was 11pm when I poured my last cup of pee outside. I gave up on my husband helping me but I was happy and grinning from ear to ear. I just had to figure out a way to keep this up though. Four cups of pee didn't give me much area, and there's the whole wait factor between one pee to the next, but I was determined. As I was figuring out my strategy for marking my territory, it dawned on me that the whole thing started as a joke. Would this effort work at all? Perhaps I should Google it, and so I did.
I found an article about human pee and plants. Do NOT pee on plants because the acidity will kill the plants. There was a whole bunch of warnings about using full strength pee. If you are using pee to provide nitrogen for plants, make sure you dilute 20:1. That's 20 parts water. I had just spilled some full strength, fresh pee earlier that evening on my favorite sedum. Noooooo! In my attempt to save my plants, have I gone on an accidental killing rage? Death by pee acid.
The article continued to talk about using early morning pee as it contained more hormones and stuff. Great, I'd been using evening pee. The kicker is the article stated male pee not female pee should be used to mark territory because male hormones could imply aggression? Apparently, a guy should use his morning pee and pee high (at the level of a deer) at a nearby tree. Oh, and get this. They did not even know for sure if it worked as they didn't know anyone who had tried it. Is this a joke? Seemed legit, but oh my!
In desperation, at 11:15pm, I go to my husband and tell him about the pee spill on my sedum and a small part of my phlox. He suggested I go outside and pour water to dilute the areas. So, there I am at 11:15pm outside in the dark, pouring water on my plants, hoping to dilute my stupidity.
The good news. A couple of good news. I don't have to pee in a cup anymore. I'm glad my husband declined my request to pee outside. Apparently, if you get caught, you'll be put on the sex offender registry for the rest of your life! Ya. I don't think my husband wants to be on that.
That's my story for this week. I hope you all enjoyed the read and I'm sure you guys have a better head on your shoulders than I do!
Best to all,
TTR
Friday, June 16, 2017
To Color or not to Color
Tomorrow will be my 45th birthday and as the years have gone by they have left their marker on my hair - thinning and greying. I don't think there's much I can do for my hair not being as thick and healthy, but there is a remedy for greying. Hair dye. If you've read my previous post of "my journey to beautiful" you'll remember that I started coloring my hair, more as a beauty trend (big mistake I must add) in my early 30s. In the process of recovery, I had to go to a salon in America and allow my hair to grow out and after that, I can't remember why I continued. Did I notice the grey more?
Long story, short - I'm almost fully grey. I have to color every 2-4 weeks to keep my face looking young. For most women, it's part of their schedule. For me, it was part of my delayed schedule. I would color every 3 months or longer. I would wait for a family member to tell me that I needed to color my hair. The hassle of it. The time spent irrespective of whether I did it in a salon or at home. What is the price of beauty? I used to think that I just didn't want to spend the $100 or so to color my hair. Now that I do it at home, it's an $8 box of hair dye. Price point was just defeated. Yet, I'm left with this constant chore and I wonder why I have imposed it on myself. I wonder why society essentially has imposed it on me. Women have to look younger and to do that, we have to color our hair. I wonder what would happen if I let it go. I would be all grey. Sure, people say I have a youthful face, but youth is perception. Isn't it to some extent?
I saw a video a few weeks back of a woman who decided to go all grey. Basically, she let her hair grow out and was comfortable in her own skin. For someone who has struggled with beauty all her life, I struggle with the concept of going all grey and looking older. Age and women is not a good combination. I struggle with my sense of combatting norms and traditions. I've always sought to secretly fight the "rules" and yet, this is a rule I'm struggling to fight. I want to stand out there and say, I'm going grey and it's my choice. Deal with it! I want to say that with confidence. Will that day come or will I succumb to my own vanity and sense of holding on to an illusion because the world does?
I haven't colored for a few months now. There's over an inch of grey and it's becoming obvious. I often wonder what I will look like, all grey. Will I get used to it? Will it be my rebellion? My statement to the world that I don't f*&^ing care. I feel my inner strength is tested here. I need to get used to a new face. So many paradigms to deal with. While I shuffle my thoughts, let's hope my strength to not color wins out. Every time I think about this, I fail and in a moment of weakness I color and the cycle will start again. How long will I hold out? I don't know.
What if women never colored their hair? What if?
Best to you all,
TTR
Long story, short - I'm almost fully grey. I have to color every 2-4 weeks to keep my face looking young. For most women, it's part of their schedule. For me, it was part of my delayed schedule. I would color every 3 months or longer. I would wait for a family member to tell me that I needed to color my hair. The hassle of it. The time spent irrespective of whether I did it in a salon or at home. What is the price of beauty? I used to think that I just didn't want to spend the $100 or so to color my hair. Now that I do it at home, it's an $8 box of hair dye. Price point was just defeated. Yet, I'm left with this constant chore and I wonder why I have imposed it on myself. I wonder why society essentially has imposed it on me. Women have to look younger and to do that, we have to color our hair. I wonder what would happen if I let it go. I would be all grey. Sure, people say I have a youthful face, but youth is perception. Isn't it to some extent?
I saw a video a few weeks back of a woman who decided to go all grey. Basically, she let her hair grow out and was comfortable in her own skin. For someone who has struggled with beauty all her life, I struggle with the concept of going all grey and looking older. Age and women is not a good combination. I struggle with my sense of combatting norms and traditions. I've always sought to secretly fight the "rules" and yet, this is a rule I'm struggling to fight. I want to stand out there and say, I'm going grey and it's my choice. Deal with it! I want to say that with confidence. Will that day come or will I succumb to my own vanity and sense of holding on to an illusion because the world does?
I haven't colored for a few months now. There's over an inch of grey and it's becoming obvious. I often wonder what I will look like, all grey. Will I get used to it? Will it be my rebellion? My statement to the world that I don't f*&^ing care. I feel my inner strength is tested here. I need to get used to a new face. So many paradigms to deal with. While I shuffle my thoughts, let's hope my strength to not color wins out. Every time I think about this, I fail and in a moment of weakness I color and the cycle will start again. How long will I hold out? I don't know.
What if women never colored their hair? What if?
Best to you all,
TTR
Friday, June 9, 2017
An ode to my car
This was obviously written over a year ago and saved. Let's see where this post goes. PS. My car's name is Buddy.
Dear Buddy, I was in Florida this weekend and driving a VW. The car was much younger and hotter. Granted he didn't talk to me, he had a quiet strength that slowly stole my heart. I'm not looking to marry him but I realize that I am missing something in my life. You are wonderful but I've come to understand that there's more out there. I'm sorry. I wasn't planning on cheating on you. In fact, I had picked a companion that made me miss you more. However, that's not how the chips fell. I was given a VW instead of an Altima and his touch made me feel whole again. I had contemplated being with you til death do us part, but dear friend, I apologize. Soon, in a couple of years we may have to part ways.
There is no greater blow than to be deserted by the one you love but I fear the blow may be worse. As much as I loved the VW this past weekend, I am looking for something else now. Something far more sensual. My next car will be a beautiful hot and sexy Xylene. Sometimes, it is what it is.
I hope you understand. I will continue to be on your side for a couple of years but please don't misunderstand my philandering. I'm being as honest and unhurtful as I can.
I still love you. You have brought me countless joys and we have had some amazing journeys together laughing and singing our way to destinations. You will always be my first love.
Dear Buddy, It's me again. I'm so over the VW. I guess, I am still holding on to what we have. But then you had to argue with me and pick a fight over my wandering eyes. I tried to explain to you that, it's just an iPhone 7. How can you be jealous of him? Sure, he's new and enticing, but he's a phone and you are a car. Not playing fair with him has caused me to look again. Hey, it's your fault. He was trying to play my podcast and he asked you for help, but did you help? No. You just kept turning your blue tooth on and off and on and off and on and off. It's not funny Buddy. He was hurt and to be honest, so was I. I asked him to play the podcast. He didn't just do it to bug you.
Well, yet again, you have pushed me to look. My eyes have wandered through several car lots and several one-drive stands. Sorry. I couldn't help myself. You knew what I was doing and you knew why. Now, when they have officially release the younger, hotter, sexier female version of you, I think you know Xylene is just one car drive away. Are you hoping I stay now?
You do know that your newer version has Apple car play. That means Xylene could potentially be best friends with my iPhone and I don't have to deal with the random fighting. I see you have played my podcast yesterday for the whole ride, with no complaints. Seriously Buddy. The games must end. I do love you. You have been my friend through thick and thin, but I need to know that you are not going crazy on me and that you will not be jealous of any new friends.
I'll be honest here. I'm fighting with wanting to grow old with you, because it's not completely your fault. I get it. I'm also fighting to move on. Our relationship lacks trust and security that your newer version can offer. Blind spot detection. Adaptive cruise. Come on Buddy. Help me out here. You have been my trusted steed. I do love you, so help me God or you would have had new owners by now. I'm holding on. I'm trying. Please hold on with me. We have a very special kind of love. I don't want it to fade as yet.
Best wishes to you all,
TTR
Thursday, June 8, 2017
It's not Wimbledon!
I used to be an avid tennis player. If I had to quantify it, I used to play about 20 hours a week. There was one weekend I played 9 hours of tennis in the same day, going from match to match to match. Yes, I used to be crazy.
I ran for the ball and held out my racquet way ahead of me and fell, like a baseball slide. Yes, I scraped my arms and I still have the scar on my pelvis from my skin being peeled through my tennis skirt! I remember an orthodontist friend of mine who said to me that he was really concerned for my hands at that moment. I make a living on my hands being a dentist. This was 10 years ago. I guess priorities change...
Living the tennis dream was everything to me. I wanted to make it to sectionals and regionals and win it all with my team. My dream was to do it in the 4.0 leagues. Or even the 3.5 for that matter. I can't remember. The closest I got was to make it to play offs and after a grueling 3 set match that I won, my team still didn't place number 1. We didn't move ahead. Having such a dream, I still never considered switching my team. I stuck it through. I was sought after as a 3.5 singles player and I enjoyed the mini fame it got me.
Change is a wonderful thing. Sometimes. It makes you re-think the world. A few things changed for me. I was bumped up to 4.0. I was playing in my dream league. This was the tennis that I had fought so hard for. This was the blood, sweat and tears of my tennis dream. It came with a price. A hefty price. First, I couldn't hold my own as a singles player. The level of play was much, much, much higher than 3.5. I, who had 23 out of 25 wins in the 3.5 level surely could have some merit. No. I played my best game yet. All my balls hitting mark, exactly as I wanted them and willed them, painting the lines, and yet, all balls returned back, more fierce than before until I would lose the match 0 and 0. That wasn't the worst part. I could sense a loss of camaraderie. These women were not playing for friendly competition. They were playing for fierce competition alone. After my loss, that pretty much guaranteed my chances of play. Not! Around the same time, 2 other events took place that pretty much cemented my tennis breakdown. My coach moved to another club and took part of the team with her. My team in the next couple of years was split. Some players climbing the ranks to 4.0 and some sinking and some moving to the other club and some staying and well, I was tossed and turned in this shuffle. I tried to stay in the same club and that didn't work out too well. I tried to move back to my old coach and everything was just falling apart. I also got a divorce and priorities rapidly change after that.
I opened my practice and soon tennis became a vague memory. I tried to hold on, but I couldn't. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I know thinking to myself, as a consolation that although I would never reach my dream, it wasn't like my dream was a Wimbledon trophy. This was just a league match in a mini world with an opportunity to go and duke it out in Florida or California with other leagues from the country. It's nice but it's OK. It's not worth the intense, I will not smile, competition. Maybe it was all pay back time for when I was younger and more intense and intimidating myself. Oh well.
Age talks back at you as well. When I would try my hand at tennis, my knees would give way when I ran like I used to. I would suddenly just crumble into the ground watching the ball that I could have easily placed in my youth bounce one extra time. It is very strange when you are so much a part of a sport that it runs in your blood and one day it's just not a part of you anymore. Maybe I'll get back to it. Little at a time. Maybe. But for now, I keep telling myself that it's not Wimbledon!
Best to you all,
TTR
I ran for the ball and held out my racquet way ahead of me and fell, like a baseball slide. Yes, I scraped my arms and I still have the scar on my pelvis from my skin being peeled through my tennis skirt! I remember an orthodontist friend of mine who said to me that he was really concerned for my hands at that moment. I make a living on my hands being a dentist. This was 10 years ago. I guess priorities change...
Living the tennis dream was everything to me. I wanted to make it to sectionals and regionals and win it all with my team. My dream was to do it in the 4.0 leagues. Or even the 3.5 for that matter. I can't remember. The closest I got was to make it to play offs and after a grueling 3 set match that I won, my team still didn't place number 1. We didn't move ahead. Having such a dream, I still never considered switching my team. I stuck it through. I was sought after as a 3.5 singles player and I enjoyed the mini fame it got me.
Change is a wonderful thing. Sometimes. It makes you re-think the world. A few things changed for me. I was bumped up to 4.0. I was playing in my dream league. This was the tennis that I had fought so hard for. This was the blood, sweat and tears of my tennis dream. It came with a price. A hefty price. First, I couldn't hold my own as a singles player. The level of play was much, much, much higher than 3.5. I, who had 23 out of 25 wins in the 3.5 level surely could have some merit. No. I played my best game yet. All my balls hitting mark, exactly as I wanted them and willed them, painting the lines, and yet, all balls returned back, more fierce than before until I would lose the match 0 and 0. That wasn't the worst part. I could sense a loss of camaraderie. These women were not playing for friendly competition. They were playing for fierce competition alone. After my loss, that pretty much guaranteed my chances of play. Not! Around the same time, 2 other events took place that pretty much cemented my tennis breakdown. My coach moved to another club and took part of the team with her. My team in the next couple of years was split. Some players climbing the ranks to 4.0 and some sinking and some moving to the other club and some staying and well, I was tossed and turned in this shuffle. I tried to stay in the same club and that didn't work out too well. I tried to move back to my old coach and everything was just falling apart. I also got a divorce and priorities rapidly change after that.
I opened my practice and soon tennis became a vague memory. I tried to hold on, but I couldn't. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I know thinking to myself, as a consolation that although I would never reach my dream, it wasn't like my dream was a Wimbledon trophy. This was just a league match in a mini world with an opportunity to go and duke it out in Florida or California with other leagues from the country. It's nice but it's OK. It's not worth the intense, I will not smile, competition. Maybe it was all pay back time for when I was younger and more intense and intimidating myself. Oh well.
Age talks back at you as well. When I would try my hand at tennis, my knees would give way when I ran like I used to. I would suddenly just crumble into the ground watching the ball that I could have easily placed in my youth bounce one extra time. It is very strange when you are so much a part of a sport that it runs in your blood and one day it's just not a part of you anymore. Maybe I'll get back to it. Little at a time. Maybe. But for now, I keep telling myself that it's not Wimbledon!
Best to you all,
TTR
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