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Showing posts with label weakness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weakness. Show all posts

Monday, December 31, 2012

wwebd?


It's rather fitting that this post comes at the close of the year, as most of us ponder resolutions to carry us through the next twelvemonth and help us improve.  My meditations on this subject have been brewing for quite awhile and have finally percolated in time for tonight's countdown.

For the past few months, I have been grappling with a slow, angry bout of Depression.  What finally alerted me to my current situation was one little thing:  I like leaving the house even less than usual.  I'm an introvert, I like being home, but lately, I avoid leaving.  I make excuses to the point where it's really not healthy.  (I know, I'm starting to sound like somebody from Hoarders...)  Knowing that something is wrong helps, but figuring out a solution sometimes takes some serious time and effort.

A few weeks ago, Mr. F and I managed to get out on a Saturday morning.  We went running and wandering through a local park for a long time.  Not only was it my first encounter with honest to goodness exercise in who knows how long, it was the first time I was really out in nature.  The sun soaked in through my skin and the darkness that had been clouding my mind disappeared for a few minutes.  All at once I remembered my favorite books, the heroines who have inspired my life and...I was ashamed.  What would they think of me if they could see me now? I thought.  This is not how Anne or Lizzy would be living their lives.  They would want me to be happy.  And all at once a mantra was born.

WWEBD?
or
What would Elizabeth Bennet do?

I thought of my favorite books, mainly anything Austen or from the Anne of Green Gables series.  The characters in these novels, which I have read, re-read, then read again, have seeped into me, becoming old friends and a part of who I am.  Over the years, I have turned to them to sort out my love life, figure out how to handle school, how to handle marriage, and coping with loss.  It only seemed fitting, therefore, that the lifeline I was seeking for a healthy lifestyle should come from them.  Pondering over their fictional experiences, I honed five simple guidelines that I have been trying to impart into my daily life.

1.  Read.  Not watch a movie or listen to NPR, READ!  As a lover of the written word, it is dumbfounding how often I substitute a book for a blog.  Reading a good book is so rejuvenating, enlightening, and very often feeds my creativity.  Books have a way of challenging me to be better, by broadening my understanding or filling my imagination to such an extent that all I want to do is create.  Very often after finishing a thoroughly engaging read, all I will want to do is paint, write, or make something.  If I can do it outside, all the better!

2.  Visit.  All of the Austen novels are based on neighbors interacting.  Without this simple action, there would never be a Mr. Darcy or Captain Wentworth.  Without visiting, Anne Shirley would never have met Diana Barry, heaven forbid!  As an introvert, this one is unbelievably hard for me.  I would so often like to stay at home because I feel awkward and clumsy around others.  But it is so good to do, and how on earth will I ever find more kindred spirits by staying on my sofa?

3.  Go for a walk.  I regularly have the phrase, "What are men to rocks and mountains," echo through my mind.  How can one experience life if they never leave their front door?  (If Bilbo could go on an adventure, so can I.)  I have gleaned from these novels a sincere love of nature.  Getting out of doors rejuvenates the senses, blows out the cobwebs of worry, and stimulates the body.  Very often, a quick Coke run to get me out of the house will change my mood drastically.  I can only imagine what a daily, thorough walk taking in the wonders of this island would do!

4.  Faith.  A constant throughout my favorite books is faith and hope.  Whether it be faith in people, like Anne Shirley's hopeless optimism, faith in God, or faith in self, like the Goose Girl had to find.  Faith is essential and so closely connected to hope.  But it is also something that requires constant diligence, through study, observance, perseverance, and a joyful attitude.

5.  Write. My second favorite of the Anne books is while she and Gilbert are engaged.  The entire book is her letters to Gil, full of her adventures, triumphs, and failures.  Not only did she probably keep a personal journal, but she was an avid correspondent.  She wrote, and she wrote a lot.

To me, the writing element is more "hone and exercise your talents" than "sit down and write."  I need to sing more, sketch more, take up a pen in my hand and feel it glide across a blank page.  Is there anything more delicious than the feeling of a good pen?  I love that feeling and haven't been searching it out enough.  It also means developing these talents, stretching them and molding them to their fullest capacities.


So, friends, this is my New Year's resolution.  It's not trendy.  It's probably a little hard to understand that it's stemmed from my battle with Depression.  But so it is.  My goal is to be healthy, but in a way I can understand; by tying back together the pieces of me that I love most.  The pieces I recognize best in my favorite heroines, who are also my oldest friends.  Sure, I have plans to organize the house and shed a few pounds, but those somehow all fit into these five guidelines in my mind.  By digging deep into the nooks of me that have been hiding these past few months and thinking, What would Elizabeth Bennet do? I'm really thinking, How does Engquist want to live?


Friday, September 16, 2011

love is

love is...

brushing your wife's hair until you both fall asleep.

giggling over nothing.

telling your wife she can buy the new Tyra Banks book.  (I haven't bought it, by the way...)

crying together.

telling your daughter it's going to be okay, even though you're going to miss her terribly.

telling your sister you're excited she's moving halfway around the world when all you want is a hug.

making jokes with your brother about McDonald's being more important in an international move than the Church.

realizing the above statement is made barely in jest.

calmly realizing  your wife's panic is normal and hiding your own.

plotting a giant family reunion when time, money, employment, and school would normally get in the way.

trying to plow through moving your mother into her new condo so you can focus on sending your son and daughter-in-law overseas.

mourning the loss of a woman who is just as much a mother to you as the woman who gave birth to you.

going to work to provide for your family, even when work really sucks.

phone calls from across the pond discussing fish measuring spoons from Anthropologie.

felt by the words, "I love you" heard through the receiver.



I am one lucky girl to have such an amazing family.   I love you.

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

woah-man

The following is a brief example of what stress, moving, a crazy work schedule, and hormones will do to a girl. Maybe not any girl, but definitely this one.

This morning I woke up feeling less calm and resigned to the world than usual. It took me longer to get ready and I very nearly missed breakfast at McDonald's. (I'm moving, I don't have food...) With a few minutes to spare I pulled into the drive-thru and asked if I had missed the most important meal of the day.

"No," came the voice through the intercom, "But they ran out of breakfast early today."

Bummer, but I could handle that. There was still coke. And fries. So that's what I ordered. (Feel free to attack me for being the most unhealthy person on the planet, I deserve it.)

But the fries hadn't been salted and tasted repulsive. And then...

my coke splotched on me. Not spilled, just splotched. But still! Coke and I have this overwhelming bond! How could my coke splotch on me in my delicate emotional state? It just didn't feel right or normal or safe anymore with coke splotching on me.

Needing solace in my disheveled condition, I turned on the radio and hoped for a halfway decent song that would distract me. What came on?

ONLY MY HAPPY SONG! No, truly. It's my happy song. To the point that I play it as I leave the temple because it's the only thing that encapsulates how happy the temple makes me. What song is this? Well, let me show you...



Yes, that's Chris Brown. Yes, he beat up Rihanna. But it's my happy song! Like, makes me happy when coke and the Czechoslovakian can't kind of happy song!

Except for today. When instead of rocking out and smiling like I usually do, I started to weep. Because I truly felt like Heavenly Father took pity on me and played Forever on the radio just to make me feel better and I was overwhelmed. And wept. Lame.

Stupid hormones.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

CDC alert

I'm suffering from serious A.D.D. today. This is what usually happens when I get to the gallery on Wednesdays. Why?

I sit at a computer all morning.

I'm not accustomed to this anymore. I instantly get more interested in what I could find on the world wide interweb than what I should actually be working on. Like training materials for the gallery.

So what have I been perusing today? Well, it started with this song by Sigur Ros and then morphed into an essay I feel like framing from the New York Times. It's all about how awesome young adult literature is. No surprise there, at all. But I liked having my bias supported. I took a brief break to watch giant, lolling thunderheads in the eastern sky from the sidewalk in front of the gallery. Apparently I had missed the actual storm. Sad!

Back inside and on youtube I remembered how much I loved this version of a Kings of Leon song by Tyler Hilton. So I listened to it multiple times. All while Marvin Gaye was being played on a neighboring computer.

Maybe that's the problem! I've been rocking out to Motown all day! That's why I can't focus... No, that doesn't seem right...

Anyway, after Tyler Hilton, I reconnected with friends in a truly personal fashion. I stalked their blogs. (The Nurse moved, in case you were wondering.) Then the Pioneer Woman taught me how to make berries and sweet cream. Which I really want to eat right now.

Now I'm writing a blog post and considering an NPR-inspired trek to eradicate grammatical errors.

Or I could just work.

Or listen to more Ray Charles.

Ray Charles it is.

Friday, July 23, 2010

jen-nay!

It's about a gallion degrees here today. With even more humidty. Meaning?

It's time for this.



Thank you, Columbus for producing Jeni's Ice Cream. You are temporarily forgiven for the whole buckeye thing.

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

creatively processing

Nearly every art history class I have ever taken has begun with the Greeks, the fathers of Western culture. One of the greatest components of their society was the dramatic arts. Oratory, comedy, and tragedy, these were what the Greeks treasured. In the latter of these genres, the performance was considered successful if and only if the audience experienced catharsis.
To our modern sensibilities, catharsis resonates with the idea of healing and restoration. While this is true, the Greeks understood catharsis to be so much more. It was a process of purifying, purifying the soul through the exhuming of extreme emotions. Unlike a movie today that may make you cry, a cathartic Greek piece made you feel to the utmost. Grief, sorrow, pain, joy. After this, this period of purging, burning the soul, came renewal.
I have been undergoing this ancient tradition for over a week now through a piece of my own art. Buried knee-deep in old journal entries, letters, and stories, I tackled my current demons through those of my past. I reread much of what I have written over the past couple of years. It hurt. Physical pain consumed me for a couple of days as demons ripped at my heart.
After everything had been read, I cut it all up into little pieces. I reexamined it and the fragments of my soul suddenly made more sense. My heart felt, above all else, a renewed and strengthened capacity to love. Catharsis, my friends, is a horrendous, painful, therapeutic, rejuvenating, peace-inducing process.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

studying for the GRE? hah!

Question: What is the distance formula?

Answer: d=engquist(coke+number of McDonald's within five miles)-need of caffeine


Question: What are the properties of a 30-60-90 triangle?

Answer: Oooo! Fun shapes! My notes would make a really great art piece!


Question: Use "metamorphosis" in a sentence.

Answer: In Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker undergoes a metamorphosis into Darth Vader.*


Question: How do you calculate percent increases and percent decreases?

Answer: Wait, does this involve fractions? Crap! I'm screwed...


Pray for me. The GRE is on Tuesday morning.

*This answer was actually not of my doing. It is to the merit of my study flashcards. If only they could have been so funny and useful with all the words, not just the ones I actually know..

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

meanwhile, back in the mitten

So, there was this one time when I came home for the weekend. The weekend turned into nearly a week. And I'm so okay with that. The initial reasoning behind my hiatus from the Scarlet and Grey was, and is, incredibly sad. A dear family friend died tragically a few weeks ago in a car accident while home in Lebanon. The stateside memorial service was this past Sunday, and my excuse to head north.

The memorial service was bittersweet. A full Catholic mass, little was said of the great woman I knew until the very end. At least, I don't think anything was said. Really, I have no idea. That's because ninety percent of what was said was in Arabic. You read right, Arabic. This was an entirely new experience for me. I've been to my fair share of religious services of varying faiths, but not once have I sat through something in Arabic. It was beautiful to listen to, there was a lot of holy smoke, and I was totally lost. My gratitude for the ability to be home for the service, however, cannot be measured.

In the interim of my visit, I have frequented several cider mills, a seasonal pastime and favorite activity of mine. It is my sincere belief that everyone should experience the fall east of the Mississippi at least once in their lifetime. It's fantastic! Apple orchards, changing leaves, rain, sweaters, pumpkin patches...what's there not to like?

My stay was extended because of today's events. I met with a gentleman from the Detroit Institute of Arts about the workings of the museum, gathering information as I try to make plans for my future. It rocked! He offered so much insight that is utterly invaluable! Then I was let loose in the DIA. Free to wander. Free. As in, without restraints and also devoid of the admission fee.

You know how most people love amusement parks? Their inner child comes out and they turn giddy? That was me for the glorius hour I had inside the walls of the DIA. I walked through the rooms, rather more quickly than I would have liked, and relished the masters who adorned their walls. There is no drug that could have brought me more delight. No candy more satisfying. I'm not even sure a good Coke would match up to the joy I felt this afternoon. It was pure, unequivicable bliss.

I'm currently supposed to be driving back down to Columbus. That's obviously not happening. The museum called, I listened, and Detroit is claiming me for one more night.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

positive reenforcement


I got the picture, that you finally sent.
I read your letter, and I know what you meant.
That's you and me, in Salt Lake City.
You sure look pretty.

Wish we could go back again.

And are you on my mind, every day, all the time?
And though you're far away, don't you know, I feel the same.

Oh well anyway, I just called to say,
Everything's gonna be okay.
Your friends aren't that far away.
Anyway.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Think of me with you.

Oh well anyway, I just called to say,
Everything's gonna be okay.
Your friends aren't so far away.
Tomorrow's another day.

Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.

Think of me with you.

Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.

Think of me with you.
Cause I do. I think of you

Chris Isaak, Don't Get So Down on Yourself

Monday, August 10, 2009

reeling



Turner Classic Movies, better known in the colloquial as TCM is both a virtue and a vice. For me at least. August they are running a series called Summer Under the Stars where each day of the month is devoted to one iconic film star. All day. Every day. Thirty-one days. That's a lot of films that I either love, rarely get to see, or have never seen before. Great news for my film loving sensibilities, plague-like news for my OSU application.

First there was the day of Harold Lloyd, silent film genius who I knew absolutely nothing about until last week. He was brilliant! The films were fantastic! And they were on average only about an hour long. Do you realize how many movies that is? Then there was the day of Judy Garland films, beginning with her early career working with Mickey Rooney in the "Andy" movies. Those I can typically avoid fairly well. But then, ,then the demonic forces of TCM unleashed films like Summer Stock and In the Good Old Summertime. Both of those are on my all-time favorites list as the diva-like Judy pairs up with the likes of Gene Kelly (be still my dancer loving heart!) and Van Johnson (seriously underestimated film legend, in my approximation). Here's the thing: I didn't get to watch the former of the two, and for good reason.

I was out watching another film. It's a disease I have, really. Me and my partners in crime rustled up some free tickets to the film Adam, an absolutley fantastic piece! It's about a young man with Asperger's Syndrome, a high-functioning form of autism, who struggles to find himself, work with Asperger's, and to find his place in the world. I'd watch it again in a heartbeat and listen to the soundtrack even sooner.

TCM really did a number on me yesterday though. One solid day of Cary Grant. This wouldn't have been as bad were it not for the fact that I watched An Affair to Remember before the Cary Grant-a-thon even began. So it was that late yesterday, I curled up at home after a day at the beach to watch Mr. Grant in Notorious and Houseboat. The latter of these films I have seen several times before. It is a light-hearted romance in which he stars with Sophia Loren. Good grief! That woman is a knockout!

The former of the two films, however, was new to me. Notorious is a Hitchcock film from 1946 in which Grant plays against Ingrid Bergman. Without even seeing the film, these three names should give a sense that it is fantastic. In reality though, this film is even better than you could imagine. Cary Grant, the total dreamboat that he is, has been inconized for his roles as a suave, debonnaire, witty man. He's absolutely brilliant at it. In Notorious, however, he is none of those things. Devastatingly handsome, to be sure. But his character is cold, distant, and brooding. I fell in love with him all over again feeling like I'd found a whole new side to him. The swooning that took place during that film was utterly absurd.

Luckily Cary Grant day came fairly early in the month giving me ample time to try to avoid TCM until Frank Sinatra day in the latter portion of August. That way I can focus on my appli-oh! Fun movie I've never seen before! Gotta go!

Monday, August 03, 2009

three days

That's the amount of time I spent away from a computer.

And loved it.

But I'm weak and the first thing I did when I got home from a weekend away was jump onto the internet.