For the past few weeks, I’ve been wrestling with a certain decision. I’ve gone back and forth, back and forth, with no real conclusion. During this process, I’ve asked for advice and one particular piece of advice that to be honest has completely freaked me out.

One of my friends asked me, “Alisha, where do you want to be in the next five years?”?

It seems like a pretty harmless question doesn’t it?

And I didn’t think much about it until I realized that in five years, I’m going to be knocking on the big 4-0. I’ll be 39 and some change.

Forty.

4-0.

Turning 30 didn’t freak me out at all. In fact, my thirties have been my best years so far. I’ve learned so much about myself. I’ve settled in to my own skin and become (for better or worse) more of who I am. I’ve done things that I was old enough to know better to do, but had a damn good time doing them anyway.

But 40?

Yeah, I can already tell that I don’t think I’m going to handle that one well.

It’s already got me thinking. Where DO I want to be in five years?  What do I want to be doing?

In five years, Keith will be 21. An adult and pretty much on his own. I’ll have raised a child already and have a freedom I’ve never known. 

Where do I want to be?

Do I want to be still in education?  Do I want to be writing?  Do I want to be married?  Do I want to be in Lafayette? In Louisiana? 

Would I want to be tied down with so much newly found freedom?

It’s alot to think about. And when I think about where I want to be, and when I figure that out, then I have to start thinking about how I’m going to get there.

All I’ve really figured out is where I am now, is not where I want to be.

So, where DO I want to be?

Hmmmm…Right now?

Right now, I want to be mixing me up a blody mary and enjoying the rest of this lazy Sunday.  For now, the questions and the thinking can wait.

Cheers and Peace!

I’m out!

So, I’ve started riding my exercise bike. I’ve got one of those reclining bike things that you can read a magazine or a book on while you pedal away to your heart’s content, or your legs give out.  Whichever happens first.

I’m a big fan of personal growth books.  I love to read books about relationships, money matters, etc.  And yesterday, I just happened to pick up the Love Smart book by Dr. Phil. Of course, I’m not really looking for a new relationship.  I’m quite content with the one I’ve got, but the last couple of chapters are about how to keep your relationship from becoming stagnant.

I’m reading through the chapter and one of the techniques he lists for keeping your relationship healthy is to write love notes to each other. Okay.  Seems like a good idea to me.  I haven’t been cheesy and done something like write a love note in years. 

So, I whip out my pen and paper and write something up real quick.  I have to go into work and we’ve planned to bbq later in the evening so I leave the note with his name on it and smiley faces on it on top of the bbq stuff and later head to work.

He comes to meet me at work, thanks me for the note, calls me “SuperCheese” and we head home.

We start getting the stuff ready to bbq and something catches my eye on the ceiling.  It’s a HUGE bug.  South Louisiana doesn’t have regular size bugs, they have these things that look like they belong on a sci-fi movie.  It looks big enough to grab up a chair and join us at the table.  It looks like something Ian will have to take a bat to to get rid of.

“Kill it, Ian!” I tell him.

He reaches on the counter, grabs the love note I’ve written him and begins to try to kill this predator that has taken up residence on our ceiling.

I’m looking at him like he’s lost his mind. He kills the bug, and looks at me triumphantly. 

“What?” he looks at me, his smile fading as he realizes I’m unhappy.

“You used my letter to kill that bug.”

“And?  What else was I supposed to use?”

I look down at the sandals I had discarded as I’d entered the house. “How about a shoe?”

“I can’t win with you, can I?”

I look at him, THAT look still on my face.

“Ugh, Alisha, stop being such a…a…a….WOMAN!”

Now, I can’t do anything but laugh. What else was I supposed to be?

I guess it’s true.  Men really are from Mars and women are really from Venus.

He was happy to be the hero, to save me from the evil creature on the ceiling.  I was upset because of his use of weapon.  How many times has this scenario played out over the centuries?

Caveman:  “Man bring home sabertooth tiger for family.  Food.”

Cavewoman: “Did you really have to kill it that way?  Poor thing.  Did it suffer?”

Caveman:  Ugh.

Knight:  “I’ve come to rescue you fair maiden, from the enemy.”

Fair Maiden (as she looks around at the fallen captors around her):  “You expect me to walk through that?”

Knight:  Ugh.

20th Century Fisherman to Girlfriend: “Okay now. Reel the fish in reallll slow.”

Girlfriend reels in the fish real slow, gets it to the bank. “Throw it back.”

Fisherman:  “What?”

Girlfriend:  “Throw it back.  He looks like he’s suffering.”

Fisherman:  Ugh.

See what I mean?

Something tells me things aren’t likely to change anytime soon either. 

Peace!

I’m out!

That’s probably the first time I’ve heard it in my thirties.  When I heard it as an adult, I thought of how true this song is.  How many times do we see a homeless person and just walk on by, caught up in our own lives and our own problems?”

I’ll be the first to confess that I am guilty of this.  I’ll see a homeless person, think, “What a shame” and go on about my merry way, thinking of groceries that need to be bought, bills that need to be paid.  And it doesn’t strike me as ironic that these ”problems” that I’m so caught up in and stressed about are problems that this person I just passed would love to have?

Not only do I not stop enough to count my blessings, I haven’t done anything in years to make a positive change in the area around me.  Yes, I teach, and that probably makes a small impact, but when was the last time I volunteered in a food kitchen, gave to a homeless shelter, or other worthwhile cause? Or really did something to make someone else feel better?

I think we get caught up in our own lives and think things should be changed, but we always expect someone else to do it.  We think that’s someone else’s job.  But really, Michael’s right.  It starts with the Man (or Woman) in the Mirror.

It starts with us.

Mother Theresa said, “We cannot do great things.  We can only do small things with great love.” 

So, I’m committing myself to do one small thing a week this month. What small things?  I’m not sure yet.  I may buy a few extra groceries and throw them in the Food Bank donation box on my way out.  I may check off that “Share the Light” box on my utility bill and help out someone who can’t afford their light bill this month.  Or I was watching the morning news last week and the council for the elderly needed box fans to help keep our elderly cool.  Or I may just do all three.

All small things. 

And I’m challenging you to do the same.  Do one, two, three, four, or however many small things.  Forward this blog, challenge a friend.  And tell us your stories.  What small thing did you do?

Peace!

I’m out!

I remember when I was writing All I Want and I wrote a blog/entry about knowing what I would do with a relationship if I found one.  I compared my hunt to my dog Sammie’s hunt for lizards.  She spends hour after hour, day after day, on the hunt for lizards.  Now, I’m quite sure I know that Sammie DOESN’T know what she’s going to do with that lizard if she finds it. 

Much like I didn’t know what to do with my relationship when I found it.  Or it found me.  Or we found each other. I can’t say we met and fell in love because that’s not how it happened.  In a very When Harry Met Sally kind of way, we had known each other for awhile before the thought of a relationship even crossed our minds.  And I’m not sure it ever really crossed our minds. 

I remember one night thinking, “I think he wants to kiss me.” 

And a couple nights later, he did.

I’d like to add the old cliche’ in “and we were inseparable ever since.”

But, I can’t.  We were inseparable before that, our relationship simply was. 

We did go through that rose colored glass phase, the wart phase, and the Alisha’s freaking out because she’s in a relationship phase. (Yes, that is a phase….one that has caused the tanking of several relationships)

That’s also the same phase as “Alisha’s In A Relationship and Doesn’t Know What to Do With it Phase.”

Luckily, with a lot of communication, compromise, and ALOT of patience, we’ve been able to make it through my neurotic phase as well.  Well, until the next one pops up. Which one would that be?  Hell if I know, I don’t think I’ve ever made it this far in a relationship.  This is a WHOLE new ballgame for me.

Cowboy made me think of my book again.  He just loves it that he has a starring role, and he brings it up every now and then. He asked if my bf had read the book.  I was like, “Ummm….No. I really don’t think he wants to either.” And considering the content, I’m probably right.

Cowboy said I needed to add my bf into my book to give it a happy ending.  For a while, I thought about it.  But, while I was pondering it, Cowboy said to the bartender, “There are no happy endings, only unfinished stories.” 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how profound that statement was.  How much like it was like one of my favorite lines in any novel was, “All endings are actually beginnings” or something like that from The Five People You Meet in Heaven.

I thought about it while we were at the bar. 

I thought about it when we went to Cowboy’s to meet Cowboy.  When I thought of how I had gone to meet Cowboy there because I had such a huge crush on him.  When he had put his arm around me and I wondered if it meant something.

When I dancing with my bf (I really need to come up with an alias for him).  And watching Cowboy dance with other girls. 

When we had to keep our friend from going to get “Buckethead”.  (That’s a WHOLE other story.)

I thought of how right he was.  I can’t say that there was a happy ending with Cowboy.  There was never an ending.  The story simply changed.  It’s unfinished.

Just like me and my bf are unfinished.  A happy ending is still an ending.  And we haven’t ended.  Just like me and Cowboy, our stories have simply changed.

Happy beginnings?  Yes.  Happy adventures?  Yes.  Happy lessons learnd?  Yes. Yes. Yes.

But happy endings?  Definitely not.

Maybe there are no happy endings, maybe they should be called happy beginnings.

“All endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time…”….from The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom.

For now, I’m off to do some more writing.  Who knows, maybe it’s time to dust off that query letter for All I Want and submit it one more time. 

Peace, ya’ll!

I’m out!

Being single definitely has it’s advantages.  You answer to no one.  You get the whole bed to yourself.  You get to learn about you and what you want. 

But, I’m learning that being in a good relationship has it’s advantages too.  You have someone to laugh with, to share things with, and you get to continue to learn about yourself and what you want.

But, like being single, it’s not all rosy.  What happens after that initial glow rubs off?  When you start to see the warts, when you have your first fight?  That’s when the REAL adventure kicks in. 

I was talking with a friend of mine recently, sharing some of of my frustrations when he asked me, “Alisha, have you ever had a knife?”

I look at him with my puzzled pug look, “Of course I have.  Why?”

“Has that knife ever gone dull?”

“Yes.”  I’m still confused.  I have no clue what this has to do with my relationship.

“Alisha, sometimes you have to sharpen the knife so it continues to work.”

And just like that it made sense.  Sometimes you have to sharpen the knife of your relationship.  After that initial rush wears off, it can get dull.  It’s up to the two of you to do what needs to be done to sharpen it back up.

How do you sharpen it? 

Commitment

Cooperation

Communication

Having a sense of humor and a willingness to inject a little wackiness into the relationship seems to work as well. 

After all, I wouldn’t be me without a little wackiness.

For now, I’m off to enjoy a little rest and relaxation.  This wacky girl is tired. 

Here’s to new adventures and “sharpening the knife”!

Cheers!

I’m out!

A friend of mine wrote an awesome comment on my blog the other day, she said she loved her husband, warts and all.  I’ve thought alot about that statement.  About how true it was.

When you first start dating someone you’re so excited.  You think this is the best relationship EVER!  You are so lucky!  He is soooooo PERFECT!!!  You can’t believe you lived this long without having this person in your life.

It’s kind of like what Eddie Murphy says about the cracker.  If you haven’t eaten in a long time and someone throws you a saltine, you think it’s a Ritz.  It’s the best cracker EVER!  You can’t believe you’ve lived this long without this cracker.

THEN, you’re looking at the other person one day, and you start to think, “What is that on his/her face?”

It’s a wart.  And why haven’t you noticed it before?  It could be the insomnia you’ve been experiencing from either doing the deed or thinking about doing the deed or it could be the rose colored glasses you’ve finally taken off.

So you deal with the wart.  It’s not that big. 

You go along back on your merry way.  You’re having a good time.  Things are going well.  

THEN……

You look at that wart again.  What’s that?  Hair?  There’s a hair in the wart!

EWWWWWWW!!!!

Now you have to stop and evaluate.  Can you live with this wart? Is this something you feel like you can look at every day for the rest of your life?  

Maybe the wart is not picking up the laundry, not picking up the tab anymore, or picking his nose.  Who knows?  Everyone has different warts and everyone has different warts they find in their partners.  Maybe it’s just finding someone whose warts we can live with and who can live with ours.  

Who knows?

Right know, what I know is that it’s time for me to get some sleep.  After this blog, I think I’m definitely sleep deprived.

Here’s to my friend, her great comments, and warts.

Peace, love, and crawfish!

I’m out!

A couple of weeks ago I posted a blog about relationships, I said that being in a relationship was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And that’s still true. In some of my past relationships it’s always been “it’s my way or the highway” and that was true on both parts; mine and the guy. We’d fight, break up, get back together, and the cycle would continue.

Compromise has never been easy for me in relationships. I guess when you’re a single mom for a long time you just get comfortable with making decisions. It really is your way because that’s the only way it can be.

Here’s an example.

Last year around this time I started dating a contractor and began redecorating my house. Well, the relationship fizzled (apparently I’m not very good with men with small kids) and I was left with several projects unfinished. A half painted kitchen being one of those projects.

I decided over spring break that instead of hanging out on the beach with some friends of mine, I should stay home and finish. The main reason for this is my parent’s coming for a visit in late May.

I went to Home Depot to look for some color ideas. Something to go along with some tile I wanted for my backsplash. After much wishy-washing and going back and forth, I decided on a green. I find a picture in a Southern Living magazine of a kitchen that I like and the cabinets are the same green.

I asked BF, who lives in the house and has to live with the colors I choose what he thinks, “I don’t care.” he tells me.

Okay, we’re going with the green.

We’re on our way to Home Depot when he tells me, “I really don’t like green”

“What?”

“I really don’t like green.”

“Ok, well what color do you like?” I ask him.

“Maybe A wine color.”

“Okay.”

I pick out a few colors, ask him which one he thinks is the best.

“I don’t care.”

I have the paint man mix me up a gallon.

“Here’s your purple.” he tells me.

Purple? PURPLE?

I get it home, open it up, sure enough. It’s kinda the color of eggplant.

UGH.

I decide to give it a try. I paint a little of it on the kitchen drawer. I let it dry.

I hate it.

I now have a gallon of eggplant colored paint and have no idea what I’m going to do with it.

I think for a little bit, pull out a couple more magazines and find a kitchen I like with red cabinets. I ask again. “Do you like this color?”

“It’s red.”

“Yes. It is”

“Whatever you think.”

“Okay, we’re going with the red.”

I run back to Lowe’s get the red and start painting. And actually I really love the color. It reminds me of Sooner red which is really kind of funny since I live with a Tiger fan.
Hee, hee!

We’re in Home Depot a couple of nights ago to pick up some more paintbrushes (my kitchen project has now become the never ending kitchen project) and I decide to look at some kitchen countertops.

The first one we get to is a beautiful kitchen. I love it. It has glass cabinets, honey colored cabinets doors, and even the countertops are pretty.

“I like it” BF tells me. “I especially like the green walls.”

This green is the same green color I wanted to paint my cabinets.

“You’re kidding right?” I ask him.

“No,” I really like it…What?” He asks as I walk away.

“I’m about to choke you.” I tell him and at this point, I’m only half joking.

Green. I make my Homer Simpson noise and head to the paint brushes.

As a single girl, the decision would be easy. There would be no discussing, I’d simply make up my mind and go with it. Right or wrong, it was my decision to make. And giving up that freedom has been hard. I’m not very good at it.

I guess it’s one of the lessons I need to learn. I can not be in control all the time. And it can’t be “my way or the highway” all the time.

Compromise.

Unless you’re talking about paint.

Heehee!

For now, I’m off to do some more painting. Go Sooner Red!

Here’s to learning new lessons and home improvements!

Cheers!

I’m out!

I was reading a magazine article recently.  It said one of the biggest misconceptions women have about what their lives should be is that their lives should be balanced. And I have to agree.  The more I try to balance my life, the more UNBALANCED it becomes. And the more frustrated I get.

I was thinking about that today.  Most of you know I work two jobs.  I have a full time teaching job and I work part time as a bartender. Usually on the weekends, but lately, I’ve been working double shifts on Saturdays.

Try balancing two jobs, being a single mom, a girlfriend, a housekeeper, a teacher, a sister, a daughter, a friend, and any other hat I wear.

It cannot be done. 

Something suffers.  It may be the housework, it may be that those papers don’t get graded until another day, or that dinner isn’t always home cooked. 

And what happens to me in the process?

I get worn out.  I’ve never been able to find balance so reading this article was like a godsend to me.  I realized that I’ve been searching for the Holy Grail, and let me tell you, my search is more Monty Python than reality.

So last week, I work my five days at my teaching job, work Saturday night, then get up this morning already thinking of all I need to get done.

It was enough to make me pull my hair out.  I needed to clean the kitchen, finish painting the cabinets, do laundry, the list goes on and on.

You know what I did?

I chucked my mental list into my mental trashcan and hit the road. 

I went to the flea market, browsed around.  Went to Lowe’s and bought some vegetables for my new little veggie garden, went and visited with some friends.  And on my way back, another friend called and asked me to meet her at the festival. 

So  I went.

I had a blast.  I was sitting there relaxing, listening to the good music and feeling the sun on my face, the wind in my hair and I realized I don’t take enough time to do that.  I go and I go and I go until I poop out and can’t go anymore.

I wear myself out.  And I know I’m not the only one who does this. 

I was reading my little devotional book earlier and it said man (and I’m assuming woman) wasn’t meant to work all the time.  That we needed breaks to rejuvenate ourselves.  What a timely lesson that is for me.

I need to take breaks for me.  So that I don’t wear myself out.

After all, the old adage is true…..All work and no play makes Alisha a very dull (and a very tired) old girl.

So, I made a decision today.  This week, I am going to finish those cabinet doors.  And then, we’re packing up the Saturn and hitting the road.  We’re packing the tents, the ice chests, and heading out.  Where we end up who knows.  All I know is I’m going to take some time to relax.  To enjoy some sun.  Maybe do some crabbing and shrimping and have a big old boil right on some beach. 

I’m excited already.

For now, I’m off to rub some aloe on this sunburn I acquired today.  It was well worth it.

Peace ya’ll!

Here’s to a great week!

I’m out!

One of the perks of my second job is the internet jukebox. All kinds of different people come in playing all kinds of different music. I get exposed to artists that I probably listen to otherwise.

One of my new favorite bands is Primus. Well,  Les Claypool, the bassist. I love the way he plays the bass. It’s so different, and to me, unique. I can’t think of another bassist that sounds the same. If you listen to their other songs like “Mr. Krinkle”, the music revolves around his bass.  I love it.

I’m all about different and unique.

Anyway, just thought I would share. For now, I’m off to get some rest. I have a big day of painting tomorrow. Fun, fun!

Here’s to great music!

Peace! I’m out!

BTW, if you have a moment, check out the blog nod I got from the Authentic Times Blog! Woo-hoo! I’m getting noticed!

http://authentictimes.com/authenticblogs