Rock Advice re: The Lord's Prayer

It's never appropriate to say the Lord's Prayer during a rock song, not even if you're Prince. It's corny and hackneyed. Don't do it.

"With The Rich And Mighty, Always A Little Patience"

The above is a quote of a quote from the movie The Philadelphia Story and it's stuck with me over the years since I first heard it. I've tried to keep it in mind because, as an egalitarian kind of gal and an only child, I have a little bit of trouble "accepting my place" in this world when it is not either as a peer to all or the center of the universe. This quote helps me deal with being subordinated.

Now, though, I have generated a new quote for handling the rich and mighty. I will share it with you here. I hope it helps you cope with the overblown, overprivelidged, overpowerful assholes in your world, like it has in mine.

When the rich and mighty turn their backs on you, kiss their asses and they will turn back around.

My Therapist's Tactics Work!

Mainly, my therapist, Karen, is helping me to reduce the stress in my life, so that I don't spend a majority of my time acting like a cornered lynx. If you know me at all, you know that I'm under a great deal of pressure. All that pressure causes your girl Flannery to flip out, lash out, weep, fret, pace, pick scabs, eat poorly, snap at people and make bad decisions. I've been to therapists before and they've usually been of the type to help me try to figure out what's wrong, which was useless to me. I know what my problems are; I just didn't know how to work through or around them. Usually, when faced with an obstacle I invent a rash and risky strategy and leap before I look. Sometimes that works, but usually, it just compounds my problems.

So I was skeptical when I sat down in Karen's office for the first time. I was preparing to waste time exploring why I was depressed, not how to move on. She started out by determining that I was under a lot of pressure and that we ought to start off by finding ways to reduce some of the stress in order to alleviate some of that pressure. In fact I was so surrounded by pressure, I really was having trouble determining what she meant. She kept saying, "Let's try to reduce your stress." I'd be like, OK, but I don't see how you're going to do that. My stresses seemed huge and out of my control: my work sucked, my commute sucked, my money issues sucked.

The things she told me to do at the first session seemed minor and I doubted that they would do me any good. But in the spirit of progress, I did try a few things and they seemed to work. They worked so well, in fact, that for the second session, I brought paper and pencil and took notes. I've been game to try just about any of her suggestions, but there was one piece of advice I was very reluctant to enact. Karen suggested I read a romance novel and told me it would be a nice way to keep my mind on romance and not lose sight of all that could be torrid/turgid in my life. I have to say, I am baring my soul here, so please be gentle when mocking me in the comments section. She backed up her advice by quoting studies that said women who read romance novels were happier in general.

I smiled and nodded and mentally tossed this idea right in my mental trash bin. I've read romance novels before. I used to work the midnight shift in a print room and I'd get so bored around 3:30 a.m. that I'd root through the drawers looking for anything to read, a pack of gum, instructions for assembling said desk, anything. Fortunately the day shift girl kept a stock of Harlequin romances in the drawer. In my experience, here is the plotline for ALL romance novels.

• Priveledged woman is succeeding in life
• Priveledged woman meets maverick cowboy/artist/Scotsman
• They hate each other at first and/or they fall madly in love
• They break each other's hearts out of stupidity or miscommunication
• They both go back to safer lovers or decide to date that guy/girl his/her mother always favored and nagged about
• A tragedy strikes
• They realize they can't live without each other
• They set sail/ride/fly off into the sunset

Sometimes you could encounter a priveledged man and a maverick woman, but the plotlines rarely varied from this formula. Frankly, I'd rather read the instructions for putting a desk together.

A week or so after she gave me this new suggestion, I found myself at the library with the girls. They were playing in the children's section and I told them I was going to dash over to the audio books to find some books for my commute. This is another of Karen's suggestions: to make sure I always have some book or music to escape to while driving. She also recommended that I make sure my car is my haven. Since I've followed those instructions, my commute has become a dream; it is my time to reflect, to drive, to learn, to be entertained. I now look forward to driving to work.

Anyway, I had to pick quickly since I hate to have the girls out of my sight in a public place. But this library is small and I could hear them over by the audio books, so I wasn't too worried about them. But I did try to choose quickly. I found a Hamish Macbeth mystery, The Death of a Maid, an Agatha Christie mystery, And then there were none, some old Sherlock Holmes radio shows, and, on impulse, Impossible, by Danielle Steele.

It took me a while to get around to listening to Impossible, but eventually I did. I won't go into the plot details here because I can already tell you are too smart for this piece of shit. It was so redundant, it broke all the rules of good writing (and not in a good way), it was predictable, it was clunky, it was stupid. I did not feel more romantic about my life at all. This book pissed me off, insulted my intelligence, and stretched my willing suspension of disbelief until it snapped in two.

But it did do something for me: I now know that my novel will be, if anything, better than Impossible. And you know what? Feeling superior is an aphrodisiac, so I guess in a way, this book did rekindle the fire in my writing loins. As for my other loins, maybe I'll try to find a romance novel with Fabio on the cover.

Unless you have any suggestions?

Today's Load Of Crap From A Fortune Cookie

This one is dedicated to Big Orange, who will belt out a big, sardonic gaffaw when he reads this turd nugget:

Don't be discouraged, because every wrong attempt discarded is another step forward.

These Bright Stars Are Bummed

And so am I, frankly. On top of my recent bout with bronchitis, I've also been struggling with Major Depression. Since Zach and Mandy have stepped forward and announced they both have been struggling with minor depression, I have gained the courage and strength to step forward too. I'm getting help through pharmaceuticals as well as counseling.

In the past, medication has always helped me get back on track and counseling has done zippo. So, I attended my first counseling session on Monday with trepidation and found it surprisingly helpful. Karen has given me some tips to help me reduce my stress levels and I thought I'd post them here for Zach and Mandy and you, though they may not apply to everyone as not everyone spends 3 hours in the car commuting to work each day, nor do they have children. If neither of those apply to you, you probably won't need these hints. But then again, maybe you might. Here are my stress reducers:

• Turn my car into a luxurious sanctuary, such that I can't wait to get in it each morning.
• Bring some fruit and some protein to eat along the way for energy.
• Do not listen to the news.
• Listen to books on tape.
• Introduce some scents such as pine into the car (pine is a stimulant).
• Don't talk on the cell phone.
• Get my children on a bedtime schedule where they are tucked in by 8:30 p.m. so that I won't be tempted to push back my bed time to get some me time or some me and Doc time.
• Add up my salary plus benefits to see what I'm really making at my job.
• Go for short walks during the day to get some exercise and some sunshine.
• Laugh more. Even if it means laughing for no reason at all.

So far, I've tried a few of these things and they are helping. But i'm still having trouble with the laughter. And here is where you guys come in. If I'm going to laugh more, you all are going to have to raise the bar and make everything you write funnier. I'm a tough crowd these days so you will need to aim high. Think of all the help you will be giving people like me and Zach and Mandy by just going that extra mile and stretching your funny bone till it hurts. I've thrown down the gauntlet; will you accept the challenge?

Good Morning, Class!

Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted to be a teacher. I used to play endless hours of school with my friends and by myself. There are several teachers in my family. It kind of seemed like a no-duh that I would become one one day. When I told my band director in high school, who was a mentor to me, that I wanted to be a teacher, he said, "Don't do it; you'll never make any money at it."

So I didn't do it. Now, I find myself with a BA in Classical and Medieval Studies and working in education on the sidelines, as it were, as a level four bureaucrat. I just took the Myers-Briggs personality assessment on Johnny Yen's blog, and what did I discover? I'm an eNFj, AKA the Teacher Idealist. According to the website, there are only 2 to 3 percent of the population with this personality and they are uniquely suited to the teaching profession. Way to go, BAND DIRECTOR. Thanks for your stellar advice.

And way to go ME, for letting one guy direct my future.

This little case study will stand as a lesson for all of you out there: NEVER MAKE LIFE-CHANGING DECISIONS WITHOUT CONSULTING AT LEAST TWO PEOPLE, ONE OF WHOM SHOULD BE A MEMBER OF YOUR FAMILY WHO KNOWS YOU WELL.

Class dismissed.

Some Free Advice

Hi, Rich Person!

I'm so glad to share the space with you at this moment. I'm practically dazzled by your diamond cufflinks and/or ruby brooches. Your manicured fingers flit for emphasis as you regale me with tales of your exotic adventures. I am left reeling by simply estimating in my head the possible costs incurred for hiring a personal rail car that hauls your well-toned ass across the country while insulating you from the hoi polloi. Really. I'm impressed.

I'm also thankful that you deem to share your stories with me. My eyes have been opened to a world that I will probably never get to visit. Your trips to the Carribean make my trips to the Mexican border pale in comparison. I've seen the Canadian Parliment building and sat in on a session. You've hung out with MP's. Real British MP's, not the British Lite (Canadian) ones. You've met mayors and sheiks. I've met Maynard's with the shakes.

Still, I've always felt that I could hold my head high around you. I never felt inflamed that you get a tax break for every hummer you buy. I've never begrudged you the opportunity to buy me lunch. I've laughed at your tales of hobnobbing with the goobershmoosers. I respect you for who you are.

But, here is where I draw the line: Please don't complain to me about your hired help. Don't try to get my sympathy when your butler scuffs the woodwork because he forgot to take off his shoes in your home. Don't try to make me laugh at the way your maid decides to clean your plush wool carpeting with dishwashing detergeant. I cannot commiserate with you here. I cannot find joy in these stories. So stop it.

Thank you,
Flannery Alden
Card Carrying Member of the Lower Middle Class

Every Now And Then...

...we have to have uncomfortable talks with those we love. We need to express hurt feelings or register dissatisfaction with the way things are going. I find, in many cases, it's important to set some ground rules. I'll list some of mine here, but I'd be very interested in hearing what some of your ground rules would be. Please add them to the comments. Here are mine:

• Turn off cell phones, TV's, etc.
• Try not to interrupt
• Try to remain objective
• Don't yell or throw things
• Try to keep going, even if it gets a bit uncomfortable, but also know when it's time to give each other space and cool off
• Try to identify the problem before offering solutions
• Respect each other's opinions and emotions; honor them as valid
• Promise to keep everything said in the fight confidential; don't go running to tell tales out of school
• Don't roll your eyes
• Don't point fingers
• No name calling
• Come up with a plan for the future that all can agree to
• If someone starts crying, immediately call a time out and hug that person til they stop
• Keep your values in your back pocket and don't compromise them for the sake of peace and quiet

Have I missed any? What would you add?

Wicked Wednesdays

My husband and I are a product of a long-distance relationship and I think we're doing pretty well. Married almost 8 years, two lovely daughters, a house and a cat. However, we weren't long distance for very long. We met in July at an Independence Day party. He was living in Newark and I in Cleveland. We lasted until about September, when I moved to Columbus, about 35 miles away instead of 300.

But during those long-distance days, it was very unsettling. On the weekends, when one of us would manage to visit the other (usually, I would drive to see him as I was the only one with a reliable car), it was lovely. We would have a good time, hang out with his friends, go for walks in the park and amuse each other with our best charms. Then it would be time to leave. I was sad to part, but I knew I could face the week ahead after having such a great time over the weekend. Monday would be good and we would talk on the phone. Tuesday, a little less so, maybe one of us couldn't reach the other by phone. Usually, I was the one who couldn't reach him. And since I was blessed with a neurotic mind and an overactive imagination; I usually began seriously to worry.

Was he out with another girl? Could I really trust him? Maybe I really wasn't in love with him afterall. No, I was; I thought. If I couldn't get in touch with him, on Wednesday, I'd seriously start to sulk, question my motives and just plain worry. Eventually, I'd talk to him and we'd make plans for the weekend and everything would be back to butterflies and bunnies.

I couldn't take it for very long. I was compelled to pick up and move myself closer to him. I quit my job, moved in with my Aunt and Uncle in Columbus and began a much more sensible relationship with him. We were closer, but not close enough. By February of the next year, we had decided to wed and set the date for October 25. By May, I'd decided to get a little apartment in Newark and we were finally dating in a "textbook" fashion. We could go out for dinner one night, catch a movie, go for a walk, whatever and then we could do it again the next day! We actually started to work at the same place and commute together. It was rad.

I don't like to be far away from him hardly ever. Even now, after 9 years of knowing him, I still want him close. I don't even like to be in different rooms from him in our house. I don't know if that strange or not. I think he feels the same way, although he is OK with being in different rooms from time to time.

On a side note, he did have to learn how to carry on a conversation with me while one or the other of us was on the john. This was a common practice in my family; conversations didn't stop just because you had to pee. We followed each other everywhere. Although, nowadays, I give him the space he needs and I'm finding that having some space myself is good too. It's amazing how protective I have become of that 47 second time allotment for taking a leak these days. My girls seem also to be of the mind that a pee shouldn't interfere with your next converstational point.

Anyway, having a long distance love was exciting at first; then a bit agonizing, then a bit of a drag, at least for someone with the attention span of a hummingbird (yours truly). But I do think they can work. If you find yourself in one and feeling the drag, I believe a change of perspective helps. Don't get too serious, too fast. Enjoy the glamour of savoring every moment together. Also enjoy the drama of being lovelorn during your days of separation. But, whatever happens, don't take each other too seriously. There is no point in worrying about what the other is doing. There is also no point in getting carried away when you're together and doing or saying things you may regret later.

Work for balance, grasshoppers. Give each other some space. Don't crowd each other in the bathroom. And keep trying to make it work so that you both feel comfortable and safe. It really is worth it.