Miscommunication

Isn't funny (or maybe tragic) what happens when communication fails? Romeo and Juliet would have been fine if they'd been able to pick up a telephone, or even chosen a reliable messenger.

And it's not just in words where communication fails. Sometimes its in interpretations. For example, I auditioned for a theater workshop last night, 25 people trying for 20 spots. There were worse singers, and certainly better singers than anything I could offer. I got up there, sang okay, not my best because of nerves and exhaustion, and then promptly sat down and hated myself for the rest of the night. While both my friends who auditioned with me, the instructor of the workshop, and her TA complimented me on a job well done, I was/am convinced I'll be one of the first cut. My brain won't communicate with reality. Even as I write this, I'm still convinced of an impending denial/failure. And how long will I beat myself up for that?

I was having a similar issue with my brother the other night, and our conversation has left me feeling frustrated and a little hurt.

It began as part of our normal check up on each other phone calls, and I shared with him a conversation I had with Tex. Last weekend we had talked about the moving in together thing, and Tex honestly shared that he wasn't ready yet, but maybe this summer when he doesn't have two cars for work, and he'd like us to move to an entirely new place somewhere in a different neighborhood. I can understand where Tex is coming from, but it wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear, and the thought of moving again--at least right now--is overwhelming. It still feels like I just got into my apartment. He assured me how seriously he was taking our relationship and that he was still as invested in it as I was. Although we didn't reach any solid conclusions or plans, the conversation ended well, and we agreed to talk about it again in the future/near the time that Tex enters grad school.

What I told my brother was that I was a bit bummed by the exchange but ultimately understood. What he told me was several variations of the following: "Well, make sure you don't do XYZ..." "I know how you are, so don't do XYZ..." "If you keep nagging at him, he's going to break up with you..." "I know how you are, so just relax..."

In short, he didn't listen. Or at least it feels that way. He instantly got critical of me and what I could potentially do. Does he think I'm so neurotic or stupid as to ruin a great relationship by hounding Tex to marry me? It felt a lot like he has no idea who I am as a person. What I was looking for was someone who could empathize but then give me a guy's p.o.v., instead I was told that I was ruining my relationship and would soon drive Tex away.

The conversation Tex and I had was a comfortable adult exchange between two people in a relationship. A little couple status check. I have no intention of rushing Tex towards anything, as I'm enjoying the journey as much as he is. It hurts that my brother, whom I love and respect, doesn't believe I'm capable of something like that. Instead he assumes...what? That I'm selfish and neurotic? I don't know.

But who I am right? Being passive aggressive by blogging about it instead of talking with my brother about how I feel. I know he was speaking from a place of love and concern--he knows how invested in my relationship I am and doesn't want to see me hurt. I just wish he'd listened a little more. And how I interpreted what he said amounts to the impact of miscommunication. Or in other words, a mess.

As a communications professional, there are lessons I can learn here.

Where ya been, kid?

My father had to sneeze yesterday. It was his first sneeze in a couple weeks. The first sneeze since skilled surgeons cut the meat between three of his ribs, deflated his left lung, and slung another wire into a chamber of his heart. The procedure, which allows his pacemaker to strengthen both sides of his heart (rather than a single side, as it had before), will allow him to live longer, better, and happier in the long run.

But first he had to get through the sneeze. "It was like my chest was being pulled apart again. I yelled 'YOW!' scaring your poor mother half to death and sent the dogs into a barking frenzy because they thought I was being attacked." It was an experience, he said, that he hopes not to go through again until the incisions and stitches have healed. Can you imagine being scared of a sneeze?

Before my dad went into surgery, he did his best to reassure me, my mom, and assorted family members that it was no big deal, he had the best of the best working on him, etc... And while all of this seemed like the truth, it didn't stop me from nearly crying on the phone as I said my "I love you and good luck" the night before he went in. What if that had been the last time I had spoken with my father? Would I always remember that he had been softly poking fun at my mom, in good spirits, and laughing as we said goodbye. It's pretty overwhelming to think about, and I thank whatever power it is out there that my father came home and only has to complain about recuperation.

Crazy what some people go through in a week or two isn't it?

Anti-love potion?

Check out this article on NYTimes.com: Anti-Love Drug May Be Ticket to Bliss

A decidedly less romantic take on love potions, but he definitely has some interesting points.

Crazy to think how potent pharmaceuticals are now and will grow to be. Will we even know ourselves anymore?

I think I'll have tea...

Here's something amusing for the weekend.

Did you know that if you drink three cups or more of coffee each day, you can shrink your breast size??

According to researchers, it's true.

Thankfully I've never liked coffee, otherwise my boobs would become concave (eek!).

Anyways, I'm hoping for some guest posting in the new year (hint, hint, hint). Maybe even SOON (p-p-p-please?). If you feel like contributing just let me know!

2009, whoa

Happy New Year everyone. Can't believe it's 2009.

Rang in the year with style (aka a lot of booze and some very good friends) and enjoyed the fact that Tex and I shared our second new year's eve kiss (aww). We spent the greater part of this past week (both of us on vacation, so sweet) together and hermiting in my apartment, playing video games, cooking, and just generally enjoying the intimacy. We hadn't been able to spend much time together in the two weeks previous, so it was really nice.

Time at home for Christmas was good too. Lots of food and presents and catching up. My brother had to split time between our fam and his wife's fam, but they made it work well, and it was fun to see them.

It was difficult, however, to see my grandfather. Having fallen down and then fallen ill, he had become bed-ridden at the start of December. Typically a jovial and smart-alecky type of a man, Pop had turned sad, unable to carry on much of a conversation, and unwilling to eat most of the time. I knew as I was seeing him, speaking with him, and telling him I loved him, that it would most likely be for the last time. And yesterday, I got the call that he had passed away Saturday night, holding hands with my grandmother and their adopted son. He requested that there be no services or funerals or anything at his passing, simply that his ashes be scattered at his favorite place--an old, rundown hunting camp where he spent a lot of his time with friends and his sons.

Pop didn't live an easy life, but he loved his grandchildren, and I will miss him.

This news, added with the befuddlement of the post-vacation haze, has made getting back to work today a little challenging to say the least. But I'm looking forward to lunch because Tex's parents got me a gift card to Barnes and Nobles, and book/CD shopping always helps to lighten my spirits.

If you're out there and reading this, please keep my family in your prayers this week. It's definitely appreciated.