Good Deed #1
Yesterday started my Lenten journey of paying it forward. And what do you suppose I did for my random act of kindness? Well, it wasn’t anything spectacularly big … but I suppose by being a “random” or unplanned act, it doesn’t have to be anything astounding.
I must say, though … for my first “good deed,” I couldn’t ask for anything more simple and direct. Meaning that I really didn’t have to go so far out of my way to look for something nice to do. In this case, as I was walking into my work area … which just happens to be in a high traffic conference room area … I just happened to look down at a rather important-looking piece of paper that rested on the carpet. I bent down to get a closer look and realized that it happened to be someone’s RN license. And the name on the license didn’t belong to anyone that I knew.
As soon as I settled in to my cubicle, I logged on to my computer and proceeded to email the person whose name was on the license. Within minutes I was handing over the RN license to particularly happy individual; grateful that he didn’t have to spend the time logging on to the State’s website to print up a copy of the original license I just handed to him.
There you go … my first random act of kindness. And now, I get to unveil the first (of many) things that I’m thankful for.
I guess I will go for the most obvious thing (at least for me) that I’m grateful for … and that would be the fact that I married my best friend. Seeing that we first met in high school and have been together as a couple since the summer I graduated from high school … I am thankful that we have grown up and “grown into” the relationship that we have today. In other words, both of us have been very fortunate that we haven’t had any previous “baggage” to bring into our world; that we’ve been able to build our adult relationship from scratch.
And because I know there aren’t that many couples out there that have had this luxury of growing up together into a relationship and having the patience with each other as we’ve fumbled through “rookie” mistakes, I know that we’re lucky. And I am most grateful.
So there you have it … Day 1 of 40 done.
Keeping the Momentum
There’s a part of me that realizes I’ve changed since coming to a resolution with my infertility; since moving to Chicago. It’s been a gradual change; mostly based on the increasing confidence and strength I’ve garnered over the past year.
And this past month, with all the writing I’ve been doing … I realize that my posts have definitely taken a different tone. Specifically, I’ve noticed that I’ve taken a break from the sad, depressing — and even angry — parts of my life.
I have always loved making observations about myself and of the world. My mom always told me that I was both very perceptive and inquisitive, so I guess it comes naturally to me. The only problem I’ve encountered (especially more recently) is that I often forget what an impact some of these observations have on me. And if I don’t write them down … well, then my “lightbulb moment” gets lost in the dim recess of my mind.
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Speaking of observations … yesterday was the “observed” Catholic Holy Day of Ash Wednesday. Ask me if I went to mass … and I’m sure you’d already know the answer. But we’ve already had many a conversation about my actual “practice” of my Catholic faith.
Regardless, there are certain things … traditions, really … that I like to follow. (Coincidentally, a bloggie friend recently talked about how traditions in religion is something she enjoys … read about it here.) One of them is the practice of “giving up” something during Lent.
I debated for a few days as to what I would give up this year. In the past, I’ve typically given up things that I really, really enjoy … knowing that I’d really only be practicing the art of self-restraint. One year it was chocolate-covered pretzels, and another year was caramel apple suckers. Come Easter after both years, I was so good at exercising self-restraint that I no longer had those “cravings” to consume them as I had done before Ash Wednesday.
This year I thought about giving up Coca-Cola (I’m addicted) or even any form of chocolate (detrimental to *anyone’s* sanity). And as I told my co-worker this, she told me what she decided to do different for Lent this year.
Since she was already pretty adept at giving up things for Lent, my co-worker chose to “pay it forward” this Lenten season. Meaning that she would decide to do one random act of kindness every day for the 40 days before Easter.
The more she talked about her plans, the more she had me sold on doing the same thing. Even though I understand the concept of “giving up” something for Lent as being able to exercise abstinence and to “purify the soul” before the day of Resurrection … the “rebel” Catholic in me thinks that this concept in this century is self-defeating, rather than self-appreciating.
If this sounds muddled, let me explain it with this train of thought: If I decide to give up chocolate for Lent this year and I’m not successful, I know I’d feel guilty. Even worse is that the mere thought of having chocolate before Easter would already elicit those feelings of guilt … even if I didn’t have any .
Yeah, self-defeating.
But … let’s say that instead of “giving up” something, I decide to “give” something to someone else … like an extra sandwich from my catered lunch meeting today to the homeless person outside of the Starbucks by work … well, it would make me feel as if I’ve helped someone else and it would make me feel good about myself. And in the end, it would boost my confidence.
Kinda like how once I started to allow myself to feel “happy” again (after 12+ years of infertility), I’ve managed to garner some momentum in gaining confidence and strength. And more importantly, contentment in my overall life. (See how it all ties together?)
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My goal this February was to write an entry a day; and seeing that I have only 11 days to go, I’m pretty sure I will meet this goal and gather more of that strength and confidence.
SO … in order to continue that forward momentum, I’ve decided to borrow my co-worker’s Lenten promise. Starting today (and ending on Easter Monday … since I’m already a day behind), I am going to vow to perform one random act of kindness a day and document that daily deed on my blog.
But not only that … I’m also going write about one thing that I’m thankful for every day. Because the exercise here is to remember that others may not have the same luxuries (whether material or other luxuries) in life that I do.
And I hope this gets me closer towards feeling more fulfilled in this life.
Blades of Glory
I admit it. I totally love watching the Olympics; and particularly the Winter Games. Oh, don’t get me wrong … I love the Summer Games, too (particularly any of the swimming events). However, there’s something about the danger of any of the Winter events that makes it more … thrilling.
I mean, even Pairs Figure Skating can be dangerous; as I’ve imagined various scenarios of ice blades or toe picks landing on places that they shouldn’t be. Especially as one of the pairs actually had such a nasty incident back in 2007.
And take a look at the Georgian luger, Nodar Kumaritashvili. Even though I don’t endorse looking at any of the videos of the crash … for those that have seen it, it’s just simply horrific. I just feel for his family and for his fellow competing countrymen.
Anyway, last night I watched the beginning of the Men’s Figure Skating competition. And as Hubby & I listened to some of the commentary while watching the French skater, Florent Amodio and the Canadian skater, Vaughn Chipeur perform, both of us could not stop giggling. Simply because it reminded us so much of some of the “commentary” done on the movie “Blades of Glory.”
Let me explain.
Jon Heder’s character is Jimmy MacElroy. He’s a very … for lack of better description … “feminine” male skater. And in the movie, “video interview” goes a little something like this:
“He’s a child of privilege. A classic skater, defined by elegance, precision, and the ability to endure great pain. He was plucked from an orphanage at age 4 by billionaire champion-maker, Darren MacElroy. Once a breeder of some of the most successful racehorses in the world, Darren had turned his attention to nurturing athletically advanced human orphans. His ultimate find came in the form of skating wonderkid, Jimmy.”
Uh huh; incredibly cheesy. And then there’s Amodio. As he skated, the commentator gave us his biography:
“… found on the streets of Brazil and eventually adopted as a young infant by a French couple. He started skating at age four when long-time coach Bernard Glesser discovered him in a public skating session.”
Then there’s Will Ferrell’s character, Chazz Michael Michaels. He’s a very skilled skater, but too much of a rebel. Chazz’s biography in the movie goes a little like this:
“At age twelve, Chazz escaped a life of running cigarettes and illegal fireworks by becoming a star in Detroit’s underground sewer skating scene. The only skater to win four national championships and an adult film award, which is not to say this ruffian heartthrob doesn’t have a softer side. He recently published a book of poetry, ‘Let Me Put My Poems In You.'”
Uh yeah. Too frickin’ funny … I especially enjoyed the whole “nod” to Detroit. Then the commentary on Vaughn Chipeur:
“He likes cars. He likes loud music and rock ‘n’ roll. And he’s got the same style on the ice. He’s strong, athletic and macho, which is a refreshing. He’s found a style that suits what he likes. The audience really responds to it, and now the judges are responding to it, which is great.”
Oh … come on . Y’all have to see a little similarity there, don’t you?!
Anyway, the whole point of this post wasn’t to poke at Men’s Figure Skating. Quite honestly, I do enjoy watching the men skate as well. I just simply enjoy a male figure skater who is athletic, yet graceful. But not so graceful that it looks too … dainty.
No, the point of this post is more about how much I love the concept of the Olympic Games. I love how all these various nations can gather together in the spirit of comraderie and competition. How individuals who represent their country can still cheer for their fellow athlete. And really, isn’t that what sports are supposed to be about? Competing for a title, yet still respecting the sport?
In US sports today, I can’t say that’s a 100% true. Especially when we live in a country obsessed with “superstars.” Not saying that all super-athletes have no respect for their game … in fact, there are some professional sports out there, like Hockey, that still seem to respect the game. I’m just saying that sometimes other material things (<cough>money <cough>) get in the way of that respect.
So that’s what’s refreshing about the Olympics for me. Sometimes it’s not even about cheering for my country (although, with that said … Go USA!), it’s about cheering for everyone that has even made it to the games.
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Oh, and sorry … I have just one more dig at Men’s Figure Skating. Some of these costumes are ridiculous! Foremost is Johnny Weir’s “Rock the Tassle” black unitard with pink trim.
But the one that *got* me the most was the outfit AND music used by the Italian skater, Samuel Contesti. Not only was he dressed in jean overalls (conveniently “shaped” in the “right spots), but he skated to a very rockabilly-blues song by the J. Geils Band.
It just seems odd that an Italian man should be wearing a very “hillbilly outfit” while skating to a very American song. Very truly a “Starbust Contradiction” …
Today, I am Polish-Filipino
If there’s one thing I love about Chicago, it’s the fact that they share a lot of the same traditions as Detroit does. Today just happens to be one of those days.
I had a co-worker back in Michigan that moved from the East Coast. The first February in Detroit, she recalled how she’d be reading the newspaper and would stumble upon this word that she had NO idea how to pronounce.
“Pack-zee? Pass-key?” That’s how she thought the word would sound like. “And what the *heck* is ‘Pazz-ski Day’ anyway?”
My fellow Detroiters and I laughed when we heard that statement. “Poonch-kee,” we corrected her. But really, we couldn’t fault her because … well, unless your Polish, you probably wouldn’t know how to pronounce “Paczki.”
For those of you that aren’t familiar with what a Paczki is, it’s a deep-fried piece of dough that is typically filled with either crème or jelly. Sounds like a regular doughnut, doesn’t it? Except it isn’t … it’s made out of especially rich dough containing eggs, fats, sugars and sometimes milk. So basically it’s a lot more calories than your typical filled doughnut.
Paczki Day started as a Polish tradition in which a typical Polish-Catholic would make batches and batches of paczki to try to purge any ingredients that might spoil during the Lenten season. And, of course, what better day to get “rid” of all those extra paczki than to make Fat Tuesday the official day for these treats?
This tradition carried over to the US, and in particular the Midwestern states, where there are large communities of Polish-Americans. Detroit, in particular, has Hamtramck; a city of Polish descendents within the city of Detroit. And Chicago, apparently also has a multitude of Polish neighborhoods; which is collectively known as Chicago Polonia.
And why do I know so much of the history of Paczki Day? Well … let’s just say the Catholic Grade School I went to comprised mostly of Polish-Americans. So much that this Filipino-American knew more about pierogi and sauerkraut than the typical non-Polish-American.
Seriously … our Grade School’s Annual Festival comprised of your typical Midway rides, a beer tent and a Polka contest. (And no … I do not know how to Polka. But I have been taken around the dance floor a couple times!) In fact these same co-workers (who helped me tease our East Coast transplant) have all but named me an “Honorary Pole” for knowing a little too much of Polish traditions!
So yes … I just thought I’d bring a little history to y’all non-Polish peeps and any non-Midwesterners. Have a wonderful FAT TUESDAY and a Happy Paczki Day!!