Vacation perspective

I love vacation. I love not setting an alarm, not worrying about cleaning or laundry or grocery shopping. Not dealing with work. I love the escape.

But it also comes at a price for me. I worry about the planning, and finding stuff to do that we will both enjoy. I worry about travel, especially if we're flying. I worry about my kitty being home alone. I work extra the week before and the week after because that's the nature of what I do.

But the pros definitely outweigh the cons, and in the end - I love vacation.

Something else I love? The perspective. Recently, I was able to take a trip and learn a few things along the way.

The only things in FL not wearing mouse ears.

"Cold" means different things to different people in different places...

... but Florida people have no idea what it means to be truly cold.

I like to be in an area full of stuff to see and do....

... but prefer to find that stuff off the beaten-path. A less hectic, less "touristy" destination is much more my speed.

It is possible to walk 70,000+ miles in a week and still gain 3 pounds...

... but only gaining 3 pounds on vacation is still an awful lot like losing weight. 

There is always going to be something to worry about, or some source of stress...

... but you can't let that stop you from loving life, and making memories.

Start listening

When horrific, tragic events like the shooting in Orlando occur, I'm always hesitant to post, here or anywhere else. I understand why people do. Many want to express their sorrow or anger, or just their support for the affected community. Some feel the effects personally. Some want to help in any way they can, no matter how small.

The problem I have seen, and the reason I avoid posting, is the comments that follow. The bickering over gun control or religious freedom or whether or not our President is a mole (Seriously!?) or whether or not people in the LGBT community are sinners or whether or not God was at work... It goes on and on and on. The arguments feed the hate and the anger, until both have a life of their own. Instead of using the tragedy as a way to come together, we allow it to tear us apart.

People who share opinions are instantly labeled: Conservative or liberal, republican or democrat, LGBT-friendly, religious, Christian, Muslim, pro-gun, anti-gun. Labels lead to assumptions; we automatically assume that because we know a person's political affiliation or religious practice, we must also know where he stands on gun-control or LGBT rights.

Assumptions are natural, and labels are easy. I'm as guilty as anyone. I read comments and I automatically assume I know where someone stands on any issue. I have leapt to the conclusion that disagreement is personal, and means we can not be friends.

But I have learned that why a person feels the way he does is just as important as what he feels - and how he chooses to express or act upon those feelings is more important than either.

I have also learned that although people may disagree on a defined political or social issue, that very well may agree that a problem exists - and they may even be able to find common ground on a solution.

My boyfriend and I disagree on a lot of political and social issues. It would be easy for us to label each other as insensitive or foolish or unyielding or hurtful. Instead, we take the time to share and listen. We talk about the issues - not about each other. We don't point fingers - we wonder out loud about what is happening and what should happen, and then share with each other why that may or may not work for everyone.

I have learned more about compassion and love and freedom and understanding and support from this one person than I have from all of the posts and articles I've read combined. He's wise and kind - and that's coming from someone who often disagrees with his point of view. I may not agree with him, but I absolutely respect him.

If I have learned one thing from spending time with someone who disagrees with me on so much, it is this: Nothing will ever change until we are all willing to stop fighting and start listening.

Slammed doors

Since my family's favorite holiday traditions of nagging and guilt have already started, I wanted to share my thoughts on gratitude now - while I still feel somewhat friendly and sentimental.

If I've learned anything in the last few years, it's that blessings are everywhere, even if they aren't always obvious. Sometimes what seems like missed opportunity is actually redirection towards something so much better. Sometimes, God slams a door shut because we are not smart enough to close it on our own.

There was a time when I thought my life would never be good, because it could never be what I wanted. I tried feeling sorry for myself - turns out, that doesn't really work. So I set out to make the best of what I could with what I had left. It didn't work right away, and at times I got discouraged. What I came to realize was that time wasn't being wasted - it just takes a long time and a lot of patience to build an amazing life full of joy and hope.

When I think about where I was even a year ago, I realize that if I had gotten everything I thought I wanted, I would have missed out on something so much better.

Sometimes, the most painful lessons are the biggest blessings. We have to hurt to understand what we really need. We have to go through loss to find what really matters. We have to be forced to change to figure out what we were doing wrong. But once you accept those lessons and open your heart to the possibility that you don't know everything... wonderful, amazing things happen.

This year, when asked why I am thankful, my answer will be:

I am thankful that God helped me see what I was doing wrong. I am thankful that He gave me friends who could help me navigate the loss, and make the changes I needed. But most of all, I am so very thankful that He slammed that door shut.

Always something

Have you ever heard someone say, "It's always something."

In my experience, it's usually an older woman, and she's usually shaking her head when she says the words. She usually just got bad news for herself, or heard a family member telling a sad story of his own.

I'm never really sure if she is saying it because she empathizes with someone going through a difficult time - or because she doesn't really care, but has nothing else to say, and feels like she needs to say something.

I heard it the other day, and I found myself wondering - why don't I hear people saying "it's always something" when they get good news or hear a happy story? Or is it just that some people always see the bad?

Like, if I tell them how I had a really nice weekend, that was quiet and peaceful. Or how I was able to hang out with Joe, enjoy my deck, and even get a little sun. Or if I share how canceled Friday plans turned into a lovely Sunday night. Or about my geat Sunday afternoon nap. Or even how when a few people did bug me, it was comical and I was able to laugh.

I'm sure some people would hear all that and think, "Oh that poor girl - she spent a weekend alone, getting stood up and napping with her cat! And a few people bothered her...I guess there's always something."

When the truth is, there really is always something - to be thankful for.

It's been a while

I haven't been around in a while. Truth be told I was going through some stuff...and work was busy...and then I found West Wing on netflix and the whole thing fell apart.

(For Christmas, X bought me a blu-ray player that streams netflix, among other things. Genius.)

Also, I've been hoping I'd be able to move this little corner of the internet over to the Times Union's corner, so though I was working on some posts, I kinda wanted to save them in case that came to fruition. It hasn't (yet, anyway). I'm sure when/if it does, I'll have something to say.

I was going to do the NaBloPoMo February prompts to get myself back in the groove - but the theme is love and sex, which I don't talk about too much (here, anyway). Maybe I'll do March over here - but in the meantime...


found it here


...back to why I've been gone.

December and (much of) January were not easy. Did you ever have someone in your life who dragged you down? But you really like this person, so you were determined to keep him in your life because darn it, you can make anything work? Who you don't want to walk out on because he needs you, and you don't want to be the bad friend who wasn't there to help?

That was my December and January.

It took a lot of soul-searching and crying and guilt (stupid Catholic upbringing) but I finally figured out that it was OK for me to look out for myself. I remembered that it is perfectly acceptable to protect my own happiness and my own self-esteem (and frankly, my own safety), and doing so does not make me a bad person or friend. I reminded myself that it's better to be alone for the right reasons, then with someone for the wrong reasons.

So I drew a line in the sand a couple of weeks ago and said no more. No more tears, no more heartbreak, no more putting my life on hold waiting for something that was never going to happen.

I realized what I really want is better - and better is what I really deserve.

On my heart

I am not making resolutions this year - but I am writing a few things on my heart.

Found it here.

- I will not let the problems of others bring me down
- I will thank God each day for all that I have
- I will remember to tell my friends how important they are, and how much I love them
- I will approach each day as though it will be the best day of the year - because it just may be
- I will surround myself only with people who add to my happiness
- I will learn to value myself the way others value me

I see some changes in how I approach my work, relationships, health, and finances in 2013. I know what I need to do, and I plan to do so. If I set a schedule, I know I'll probably fall behind; if I make specific promises, I know I'll probably fall slightly short.

I figure if I approach it by reminding myself of the big things...the little things have a good chance of falling into place.

I will set monthly goals for myself...and do my best to achieve them. I won't be too hard on myself if I don't always get it quite right. There's still next time.

I'm happy to see 2012 go. I was starting to hope it was all an episode of Dallas, and any minute Pam was going to wake up and find Bobby in the shower.

That's not the case, which is fine. I'm going to tuck the lessons and heartaches and triumphs from 2012 in my pocket, and push forward.

I'm ready for 2013. Bring it.

How kids affect your holiday

My holiday turned out to be more stressful and depressing than I planned. I mean - it's always a little bit stressful and I always get a little down at some point. There was just a bunch of unexpected stuff happening that sent this one over the edge.

I was feeling like this:

A big, jumbled, confusing pile that made no sense.

Then I got my stuff together, and realized my priorities were all out of whack. I had some people to make smile - important people. Plus I promised myself I could do it without help.

Kids make everything just a little bit better.

It's amazing what you can get done when you get your priorities in line.

Right place, right time

This morning, my neighbor couldn't start her car because it was so cold outside. She drives a new Mercedes. My little used Honda, with a million miles on the engine, started right up. I pulled out of my driveway and started my commute.

Less than two minutes from my house, I witnessed a pretty bad car accident. As I pulled over to call 911 and wait for help, it occurred to me that had I left my house just a teeny bit earlier, it could have been me in the car that was hit.

His airbag deployed; and I bet mine would have, too. When you're five feet tall, an airbag deployment is no joke. It's as likely to kill me as the accident.

Those two things are related somehow, in my mind. Somehow, I guess it all comes back to life is full of surprises. It's easy to get annoyed at the little things, but it's important to realize that everything really does happen the way it's meant to, and you really are right where you're supposed to be.

Hello, my name is...

"Maybe you have to let go of who you were to become who you will be." Sex and the City

In the car yesterday afternoon, I was thinking about how surprised people seem to be when they learn that Rock is a) my real last name (people often think it's made up) and b) my married last name - and I'm not married anymore.

I was trying to decide if I should write about the decision, and the apparent and unexpected fall-out, and the my friend Baking Suit posted this last week.. This is apparently a case of great minds thinking alike - and thus, this post was born.

I graduated college in 1996, engaged but not yet married. My last name was Ginett. Gi pronouned like give, nett prounounced like net. Prior to the commencement ceremony, graduates were asked to hand in an index card with our name written as we would like it pronounced as we walked across the stage. I wrote my name out; then I provided a phonetic spelling; then I provided examples of the correct pronunciation. My index card was given to an English professor with a PhD.

Who misprounounced my last name as I was handed my diploma.

I could not wait to get married and get rid of that last name. I love my family, and they are largely responsible for who I am as a person. But I wanted to be a Rock. Two years later, I would be.

Anyone who says that marriage doesn't change who you are has either never been married, or is living in a perpetual state of denial. I don't care how self-aware you are, if you lived together first, or what - being married changes you. Even just a teeny bit.

Since I married young, that was even more true for me. I hadn't even come into my own when I walked down the aisle, so I did a whole lotta changing in the ten years that followed.

Unfortunately, I learned that there was one thing that could change me more than marriage: Divorce. Four years later, I am most definitely not the same person I was when I got married, or even when the marriage started to end. But I am also not the same person who so happily marched down to the Social Security Office in July 1998 to begin the process of changing from a Ginett to a Rock.

So who the hell am I? Should I still be Sue Rock? Or go back to being Sue Ginett?

There was a time when I planned to change my name as soon as the ink was dry on my divorce papers. Of course that was also when I was angry with X, and dragging furniture to the end of the driveway on my own in a fit of...well....rage. Anger makes people do stupid things. I didn't need that bookcase, but I am very glad I didn't make any more lasting decisions while in that state of mind.

After things calmed down, and X and I started to develop a friendship, I saw things differently. Here are the factors that ultimately influenced my decision to keep my married name:

* Paperwork - I freaking hate it. Though it isn't terribly complicatd to legally change your name, getting it changed on bills, accounts, and even important documents (like the other diploma I received in 2008) is just a lot of work that I really don't want.

* Professional Branding - I'd already started blogging, networking, and other work, under this name. Changing it seemed like more of a hassle. Not to mention - Rock is just a cooler name than Ginett. Sorry, Dad - but it's true.

* Personal Branding - Most of my closest friends know me as Sue Rock (with a few exceptions). They'd probably keep referring to me that way, even if my name did change. So what's the point?

* Family Ties - X doesn't have a lot of family. My family loved him as though he was their own, and he loved them too. I can't speak for him, but I still consider X a part of my family (and I know my family feels the same). I feel like it's nice for him to have at least one other Rock around.

The bottom line is this: I came into who I am as a person with the last name Rock. It more closely identifies with who I am today, and I like the name. It's mine; I earned it, and I'm keeping it. So there.

Now, are there any circumstances under which I'd consider changing my name? I can think of only two:

Sue Jeter - has a nice ring, dontcha think?

* If X got remarried - Out of respect for the new Mrs. Rock, I might change my name, if it mattered to either of them. I doubt that it would (I'm not a Mrs., I'm a Ms., so she'd still be the only Mrs. X Rock around). But I'd be gracious enough to at least consider the change.

* If I got remarried - If I knew then what I know now, I'd never have changed my name in the first place - but I can't unring that bell. Still, I'd understand if my imaginary-future-husband (or as I like to call him, Derek) was uncomfortable with the idea that his wife's name was given to her by her ex-husband.

In that case, would I change my name to his, or just go back to my maiden name? I'm not sure. But I do know if I ever do this again, it will be the last time.

Anything to keep the paperwork to a minimum.

Powerful words

Did you hear this story about Gwyneth Paltrow tweeting the n-word?

She says she used the phrase because it's the lyric to a song. Fair enough - but I sorta think that still crosses a line.

Words are powerful. Sometimes, we give them too much power, and we need to try and negate that power. But that's a slow process, and it starts by teaching kids lessons - privately.

An international film star (Oscar-winning, at that) can't take to her very-public twitter account with a word that is possibly one of the most heated, racially-charged insults ever - and not expect to ruffle a few feathers.

After all - not all her followers know her friends said she could "take it back."

There are some things you just don't say.

Fat is not an insult

There really isn't anything like a four-year-old telling you, "You're fat." I swear I've never seen her mom's head swivel so fast, or a more angry look on her face. I didn't even have time to be upset, because all I could do was turn to the four-year-old and say, "Ooooo, you're in troublllllle...." Maturity - 1, Sue - 0

There's never a wrong time to teach kids that saying or doing mean things is not acceptable. But you know what I wonder?

Who decided "fat" was a mean thing to say?

No - seriously. I get that she may have thought she was making fun of me, and Mom had to correct her. Kids have to be taught there's a right and wrong time and place to say things, and also that there are some things you just shouldn't point out. This little girl doesn't have a mean bone in her body, and I know she felt bad that she may have hurt my feelings. I'm very sure she learned that lesson.

But if she thought that "fat" was a way to make fun of me - she had to have learned that from somewhere. Who decides which characteristics are negative, and which are positive? More importantly, who is passing on those decisions to the kids? She's observing something that is true. Maybe "fat" isn't the nicest way to phrase it - but I'm definitely not thin. And she's four - it's not like she's learned words like curvy, or plus-sized.

Really, it's not much different than if she says, "Your hair is brown and Mommy's is yellow." It's just an observation - and it's true.

Maybe sometimes, there needs to be a lesson about what words mean, and how much power they have. Maybe the idea is not to just teach kids not to say something - but why they shouldn't say something. Or maybe sometimes, the lesson should be that someone's differences aren't necessarily her flaws.

If the idea is to teach little girls not to insult each other by using the word "fat" - maybe the way to do that is to teach them that "fat" is not an insult.