That Damn Plant

Well, it's the end of the year.  Today is New Year's Eve; the last day of 2009.  There is such a sense of urgency that comes with New Years Eve.  If there was something you didn't get done, or say, or do, this is the last day and the last chance to do so.  Not to mention how you have to spend that last hour of the day which is also the last hour of the year.  If your not dressed fabulously, going to a fabulous place to do fabulous things with a fabulous other person of which you have to have a fabulous kiss with at the stroke of midnight...well, your whole next year is pretty much going to suck.  The future of your existence is at stake if you don't properly celebrate this day.  So, you better hurry.  Hurry, I say!!

Actually, I'm just going to pay some utility bills (they're a little on the late side), probably eat some chips and cheese dip, and start some laundry.  My last hours of the night will be spent on my couch wondering why Ryan Seacrest is famous and I'm not while eating fudge from Christmas.  A part of me is kind of looking forward to that.

To be honest, I'm a little disappointed in myself about this past year.  This time last year I had a plan.  I was going to get my debt under control; I was going to only make A's and maybe an occasional B in my courses;  I was going to let go of that one thing that has hurt so much; I was going to keep my room and car clean.  Well, I'm still a little behind in everything that has a payment due date; my grades match the initials of my name; I still haven't let go; and let's just say if you need a ride give me a few minutes to throw the mountain of stuff in my passenger seat to the back seat (hey I was looking for that coffee mug).  Oh, how easily promises to yourself can be broken. 

My birthday is a week and one day after New Years.  Last year my sister and him each gave me the same kind of plant.  Although I love them, I do not keep plants.  There are those incredible and magical people in my family that can give a plant a wink and a smile and that plant will instantly bloom into a mystifying flower that sparkles and dances on command . (Okay, that's an over exaggeration.  But my grandparents, my mom, and my Aunt Char know how to keep plants pretty).  I, on the other hand, am a plant murderer wanted in three states.  I forget to water them or whatever else it is you do with them.  That's why I'm not good with animals either.  Love the thought of them, but so much trouble having to feed and water them.  It's really a wonder my kids are still alive and thriving.

So, I have these two plants and I decide to include them in my New Years plan.  I was going to keep them alive.  I watered , placed in the window sill, talked to them.  Those first few weeks I went through paperwork, I purged, I cleaned, and I made out a budget.  I think I even exercised for two whole weeks in a row!  This would be the year that I would become new and improved; out of debt and the keeper of alive plants!  Woo Hoo!

My sister's plant died around week three.

As the year went on, I did what I always do.  I gave up.  I got discouraged.  I stopped trying as hard. I let myself get hurt.  I forgot to pray.  Disorganization and his gang of debt, frustration, resentment and procrastination crept back into my life.  It was, by all accounts, a hard and rather crappy year.  The thing that really sucks about all of this, is that I am not under the illusion or in denial about the fact that there is no one to blame for this but myself.  I see how and where I went wrong, I even know what needs to be done to fix these things.  But, I just never stick to it.

It was yesterday, New Years Eve Eve, that it hit me.  I was up in my room, getting ready for laundry day, when I just dissolved into tears.  It was one of those horrible crying fits where your eyes are puffy for hours after.  I looked like I was having an allergic reaction to shell fish all day.  I just hated the fact that I was pretty much in the same place I was last year.  So, there I was sitting on the floor in my room, violently crying about how much my life sucked and how much of a disappointment I am and yelling out to God "why!?!" (of which I could almost feel Him rolling his eyes at me), when I looked up and saw the plant the he gave me on the window sill.  It's pretty sad looking, but alive.  There's only four leaves left and two of those are half brown.  But, it was still alive.  A whole year and maybe five waterings later, it was still alive.

That's when something else hit me.  This past year, with all that happened, was the closest I had come to meeting my goals.  I'm still in school, I still have my home, the lights are still on, my kids are still alive and they are truly amazing.  My life is good.  No, my life is incredible.  I have so much to do and so much to accomplish, and I haven't a clue about how to start.  But, I guess maybe I've already started.  I never thought I'd be good mom, but I am.  And I'm still in school, and graduation is a year away.  I, Angela Clark, will be college graduate in a year (I was barely a high school graduate).  As far as love...last year I was determined to get it.  This year, it would be nice.  But it's not a need, it'd be more of an add on.


No plans this next year.  No resolutions.  No empty promises.  Every moment will be taken as it comes.  I pray I will savor them all.  I'm sure I won't, but I'll give it a try.  And maybe at some point that plant will bloom again...although I'm probably not going to plan on it.

An Analytical Look on Why I Hate Analyzing

Fall semester is over. Correction: a very humbling fall semester is over. Nope. Another correction: a very long, stressful, humbling fall semester is over. The long part I blame on my professors (you know who you are), the stressful I blame on everyone else (you know who you are), the humbling I blame on myself (I have to take some responsibility).

This semester I finally had decided on a minor. Writing. Which basically means that if the whole psychology bit doesn't work out I have staring at my computer screen for hours wondering what to write about to fall back on. I'm pretty excited. I don't know what kind of writer I am. I did pretty well in Technical Writing and also in Creative Writing. Either way, I think if Ivana Trump can write and sell a book with the title Free to Love, I have somewhat a chance of being half way successful...and I'm okay with that.

What I am not good at is analyzing. I hate it. Which sucks considering I picked a major and minor that both analyzes everything to death. If only UCA offered degrees in watching TV marathons while eating pizza...mmm, pizza. Anyway, I had to analyze a speech based on its rhetoric. Probably the worst paper ever. Lyndon Johnson's We Shall Overcome was the speech I chose to "dig deeper". I don't want to dig deeper (yeah...I'm going to make a great therapist). The stupid paper had to be 4-5 pages long. That's shorter than my middle school kid's papers and there I was struggling to get through page 2. The question that gets me when analyzing is the question "why?".

Last semester, in American History, I had to analyze a critical article about a book. I had to analyze an article that analyzed another written work. Really? At that point, what more is there to say. I made a good grade on it, but throughout my paper the professor wrote out "why?...explain" beside all my points and observations. My answer..."uh...because...". I don't know why. My question is why do we have to over analyze everything? Why can't we just chalk it up to the writer felt like it, whatever it is he/she wrote?

Basically, I'm lazy. I'm lazy and a whole lotta selfish. I want to write my thoughts based on my own opinions or experiences. Johnson's speech was great. He wanted Civil Rights, but he actually wanted those rights carried out, not just passed through Congress and then forgotten. He was passionate and direct. He held all in America, not just us Southern folks, responsible to carry these rights out. I like Johnson. No one ever thinks of him, but he had balls. That's right. I think Johnson had balls to make a speech like that in 1965 when there was such a divide on the race issue. Unfortunately I can't make that stretch to four pages and I don't think my professor would had appreciated the whole 'he had balls' thing.

I also took Theories of Personality this semester. I never wanted to shoot myself more than I did while reading the 40 page chapter on Carl Jung. And Freud was no picnic either, but at least he has that whole sex and aggression thing to hold my attention. The whole dream analysis, and if you weren't successful at breast feeding or potty training your screwed as an adult, not to mention all the archetypes you could be from your ancestral past; ugh. Which basically means not only are you screwed to an adulthood of unhealthy relationships and horrible dreams if you had trouble breast feeding and potty training, you have to worry about your ancestors screwing you up as well. No one recovers from that.

My stance: sometimes we spend so much time digging in our past looking for answers to our problems, we forget that the answers are here in the present and then never move on. Yes, the past effects us. Yes, we should read others arguments and opinions to help form or confirm our own. Yes, we need to be able to articulate our arguments. But, more importantly we should take a closer look at where we are now and decide where we are going from here. And, also be able to decide what is REALLY important and worth looking deeper at. Not everything is worth it. And the real question shouldn't be why the writer wrote what he/she wrote; it should be why do we have an opinion about it or not have an opinion. Sometimes what doesn't move us is as telling as what does move us.

My very last paper of the semester was a ranking of all the Theorists we studied. It was ranked from least to most of how their theories will influence which type of therapy we'll use in our careers. We studied eleven of them and had to write at least a page on each of their theories. I'm a last hour type of writer. So, I get a little punchy at 2:00am towards the end of the semester. Anyway, as I got to Freud my 'screw it' spirit took over and this is what I wrote:

"The whole oral, anal, phallic, latency stages are lost on me. That’s not my interest. Maybe someone being scared to go potty when they were a kid makes them really up tight to this day, but honestly let’s get the guy a laxative and move on."

I made an A. Punchy works for me.

Analyze what I wrote and let me know what I'm really saying. It needs to be 5-6 pages long and be sure to explain your arguments. Oh...and wish me luck for Spring semester.