Forever Learning

Sometimes I get tired enough that all I want to do is lie on my couch, absorb (or not) my favorite television show and pretend that the world doesn't exist. But for the most part, I enjoy learning new things. I'm not very adventurous when it comes to doing new things, but I do love learning.

I've been involved in martial arts classes for a handful of years now. One of the (many) things I love about my classes is that there is always something new to learn. On the surface, I'm still going over things I was taught the very first time I stepped on the mat. In reality, I'm still practicing all those original moves and building on top of them with new and varying techniques. There are times I'm overwhelmed with new information. However, I absolutely love learning new combinations or moves and working at memorizing them (especially if it involves hitting things).

Finding an online course for Photoshop has been a highlight of this past year. Although the tests at the end of each section were sometimes difficult, I had an absolute blast gaining new information and learning brand new things I could use with such a fascinating program. I can't tell you how many techniques I wished I knew three years ago while working on particular projects. If only. But at least now I know them and I'm using them quite often in my digital art endeavors.

I recently talked about how much I love books. Lately I've been reading up on particular angles of human behaviors and nonverbal communication. I'm captivated by the information tucked in those pages. How people interact. Speak to each other. Physically react. How we perceive each other and the world around us. What to say and how to respond, depending on what another person says or how they behave themselves. Talk about a complicated web of possible scenarios and outcomes.

This fall, I'll be taking a class at a community college on graphic communication. Once again, I'm looking forward to learning something new and putting it to use in the workplace.

All these things are really just a small fraction of items that I'm learning every day. And I'm not alone in this. Everyone is constantly learning all the time, even when it's not obvious. Have you ever stopped to wonder how on earth our brains can handle all of that? I am forever amazed at how God has wired the human mind, enabling us to actually learn every single day without maxing out. Unlike a computer, we don't run out of space. (Although I've witnessed how age can be a bit of a detriment when it comes to retaining information!) We don't need batteries, external hard drives or more RAM. Incredible.

Here's hoping for many more years of learning new things. It's just more fun that way.


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Singing in the Snow

So, yesterday was another snow day for me. As in, I woke up to blowing snow and a ridiculously low wind chill, which made me decide it was worthless to try and drive the 45 minutes to work. I went back to bed.

When I did finally get up, I took this picture off my front porch.

My poor car (which isn't a hatchback - it just looks like it from the snow piling up on the trunk) appeared to be frozen stiff. The wind was howling and blowing even more snow off my apartment roof. Snow from just a couple days prior was still piled up behind my car. I think my nose froze solid in the three and a half seconds I stood outside. The picture doesn't show very well that at this point, the snow was still falling pretty steadily. And then I heard it.

Birds.

Singing.

Seriously? I could hear all kinds of birds up in the trees (I didn't look for them, since I was trying to avoid hypothermia) singing up a storm (no pun intended). If I hadn't seen the snow or felt the cold temperature, I would have thought it was springtime. It stunned me (for that extra half second), and I stepped back inside my apartment just shaking my head.

Now, I don't speak Birdish, so maybe these flocks of birds were on the warpath and hurling insults at each other, but my imagination happily sits on the notion that these particular feathered creatures were part of a merry choir.

To be honest, it kind of made me think about my own attitude. I'm all for snow days, but I was on the verge of loathing a day stuck at home with a ton of work piling up at the office. But I was inside! Warm. Dry. Lying back on my couch and sipping coffee while watching television. At least I wasn't stuck outside, up in a tree, battling the wind, snow and cold like those poor birds were.

I looked up some Bible references about singing, and this one struck me as interesting. It's in the book of Acts, and two missionaries, Paul and Silas, are in prison (after being severely beaten) for spreading the word about Jesus. They're in just about the worst pickle they could be in, and here they're found praying and singing. Singing! By the grace of God, they escaped prison that night and even managed to find a new believer in the jailer himself. 

So, yesterday was another snow day for me. As in, I woke up to blowing snow and a ridiculously low wind chill... But I still had a reason to sing. If the birds can sing... if Paul and Silas could sing... then I certainly can find reason to refrain from complaints and find something to be thankful for instead.


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A Leaning Tower of Paper

It wouldn't have been so bad, had there not been a bump. But had there been no bump, there would have been no reason for laughter, either.

It was a dark and stormy night... well, actually, it was mid-morning, the sun was shining brightly, and the inside of my workplace was lit very well also. We do a lot of printing where I work. And when lots of printing is happening, lots of paper is happening, too. When when lots of paper is happening, lots of cutting very large stacks of paper is happening as well.

Thankfully, I'm not the one who does most of said cutting. My office buddy takes care of much of that - at least in this morning's case. When a print job requires more paper - you cut more paper. That's just the way it is. And when a table-height cart is available to haul the paper, that is the obvious mode of transportation.

Imagine, if you will, the cart, which, though a comfortable height, has a surface of only 16"x20" or thereabouts. Not large enough to contain two stacks of 12"x18" paper. So what should one do? Make a single, incredibly tall stack of paper, of course. I believe my office buddy, after creating the stack, used the adjective "Dr. Seuss-like" to describe the leaning, weaving, precarious-to-say-the-least, enormous pile of thick, glossy paper.

I watched. Yes, I chose to watch, not drive the cart. My eyes never left the cart. Or my office buddy's one hand that sat atop the paper tower above her eye-level, while her other hand drove. As any assistant would do, I walked alongside her, ready to lend aid, but surely in a case like this, no help would be necessary.

But see...there's this little slope in the floor where two concrete slabs meet. Call it a bump if you will. It's not enough to stop a wheeled object short, but it's enough to at least give a vehicle a jolt.

Yeah, you know where I'm going with this, don't you?

The cart, in all its splendor, hit the bump full-force. Now, the paper was so heavy because the tower was so tall, which created too much momentum for the cart to stop. So instead of all the paper sliding off the front of the cart, it slid backwards - towards my office buddy.

My ninja-like reflexes kicked in and I lunged for that crumbling mountain of coated, 12"x18" stock. My arm wedged itself between the razor-sharp edges of the paper and my office buddy, whom I was trying to save. In the meantime, both her hands became busy, also trying to stop the mountain's momentum and keep a disaster from happening. The result? The both of us hanging onto the paper, chasing the cart as it continued to move forward on its own - towards a nearby shelf.

A vision flashed before my eyes of us hitting the shelf head-on, then watching in horror as the shelf toppled over into our beloved digital press, crushing it under its weight. Thankfully, my vision did not come true, however, we did run into the shelf. The corner of it, to be precise. Did you know the corner of a metal shelf will cut into a stack of paper and leave a triangle-shaped notch? Neither did I. But, I do now.

So here we are, both still clutching the now almost-horizontal tower, defying all odds along with the law of gravity. We would not allow one paper to touch the floor. No sir! Why? Because we're just that way.

Granted, it was a close call. Because even though we had paper digging into our arms, and muscles that were straining to hold it all together, we were laughing uncontrollably. (Did I mention there were no witnesses? How sad.)

Somehow, I managed to pull my trapped arm out of the mangled mess and begin relieving my office buddy by lifting off the paper, small stacks at a time, and placing them on a nearby table. And yes - we actually did succeed in not allowing one single sheet of paper to touch the floor. And the shelf was fine. And the cart was fine. And we were fine (although we did have a few paper cuts, and our sides were sore from laughing).

So I guess, when you see a bump, you can slow down and ease over. Or you can ram it head-on and bask in the laughter-infused aftermath.

Enjoying the Sweat

I recently heard a phrase that went something like this: “Nobody enjoys exercising anyway.” I don’t remember the exact conversation, but it was emphasized that there really was no enjoyment in exercising. In the results, perhaps, but certainly not the activity.

I’m not sure, but I have a feeling that maybe I found another area in which I’m an oddball. I have to admit…I like exercising. I like sweating. I like feeling my muscles burn as they strain to keep up with my determination. Of course, I enjoy the results of exercise the most, but I do actually enjoy the activities that make me sweat and get my blood pumping.

There’s a strange sort of satisfaction in trying my hardest at a physical activity. Granted, half the time I bite off more than I can chew when it comes to straining my joints or my back, but I still do what I can.

The other day, I was lying face-down on the mat during my kickboxing class. I’d just completed one of several exercises (which means six rounds of as many reps as I could do) and there was a part of me that wasn’t so sure I’d be able to complete the rest of class, let alone walk away when it was over. Or even survive at all. But as I pushed myself up and saw a puddle of sweat where my forehead had been, there was a bigger part of me that found satisfaction.

I finished class with higher numbers than expected (and I did manage to not only walk of the mat, but drive to work without collapsing behind the wheel). I was exhausted, but…it felt good. It wasn’t just the aftereffects though. It was the fact that I’d survived. I’d pushed my limits, sweat til my shirt was soaked, and at one point thought my muscles would probably burst at the seams. But the fact that I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do – that’s what made it enjoyable.

Exercising is tough. No doubt. And hard stuff usually isn’t fun. I won’t lie – there are mornings I don’t want to even roll out of bed, let alone go to a kickboxing class. But nine times out of ten, I’m glad I went because I really do enjoy it.

So for those of you who hate the act of exercising and only do it for the results – I’m sorry. I wish you could enjoy it like I do. Call me weird. I like to sweat. (And shower. Don’t worry – I don’t forget that little task either.)

Sometimes the hard stuff can be enjoyed more than we think. Like life. I haven’t quite figured that one out yet, but if I do, I’ll be sure to share that here, too.

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Caught Unawares

I didn’t want to die. I mean Heaven is a lovely thought - I just didn’t feel I really wanted to leave Earth at that particular moment…in that particular position. You know how sometimes it only takes a split second to envision what the future might look like? Yeah, that’s kind of how this was.

Storms were moving through the area – the kind that come bearing tornado watches, the threat of hail and ear-splitting thunder. Don’t get me wrong – I love thunderstorms. I’ve developed a keen appreciation for pouring rain and long rolls of thunder. This particular evening though, things were just a bit too eerie. The clouds looked downright evil, and my cell phone kept warning me of flash flooding. Thankfully, I was inside my apartment, dry and cozy as could be.

Until I needed to use the restroom.

I usually keep the window cracked open in my bathroom as a source of fresh air since my entire apartment gets stuffy. So as I sat and…pondered…many things, I enjoyed the sound of rain outside. Soon though, I realized the wind was starting to pick up. A lot. A whole lot. I could hear the trees crashing around outside, and I started to feel my apartment shake just a bit.

Where’s my cell phone? I need to check radar. Shoot, I must have left it in the living room. I don’t hear any tornado sirens, but that wind is starting to rumble something awful. Surely this is just some short-lived high wind – nothing to worry about…right?

And as my pulse quickened with just a tad bit of anxiousness (I’d hate to say “fear”), I realized the worst part of my situation. At this point, I really wasn’t even concerned that I didn’t have a basement to go to. I had a closet that also served as a miniature storm shelter, so there was no real problem there. What I realized was the state in which I…sat. And then I saw it. The future.

The vision which entered my mind was one of rubble. My apartment had been demolished by an EF-5 tornado. Debris was everywhere. My cats had been transported to OZ. And me…they found me buried under the rubble…on the commode.

Really now! Who would want to die like that?! I’m sure there have been similar instances throughout history of people being caught unprepared, but not me! I couldn’t die like that. Ninja’s died honorable deaths in grand battles, not deaths brought on while sitting on the potty!

I’m glad to say there was a happy ending. I managed to complete my…task…and exit the chamber of untimely death before anything too drastic happened. Of course, after any panic had subsided, so did the wind. It had knocked a few small branches off the tree outside, but that was about it. No demolished apartment. No rubble. And no headlines in the newspaper about how a poor girl had been caught unawares. (I’ll refrain from any puns at this point.)

The moral of the story?

Yeah, I’m not really sure there is one. Other than check the weather before you answer the call of nature. ‘Cause nature apparently has a sense of humor.



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Thursday Nonsense - The Dreaded Foot Covering

Socks and I have never gotten along. I remember, as a child, refusing to don my socks and shoes to go outdoors. I literally threw fits. I would sass my parents, sit and pout, cry and refuse to put on socks. I didn’t particularly like shoes either, but it really was the socks part that bothered me most. Any kind of socks. Thin ones, thick ones, short ones, long ones or fuzzy ones. It didn’t matter if they were dull white ones, or ones bright with color. I hated all of them. If I would have had my way, I would have spent my life barefoot. Of course, I couldn’t. It wasn’t realistic, and my parents kept working with me until I outgrew the temper tantrums. What I didn’t outgrow, however, was my abhorrence of socks.

I still detest them. I’ve just learned to adapt, and someone my age throwing a fit over something as silly as socks would be…well, awkward. I’ve also learned that sometimes it’s better to have warm toes, or toes that don’t rub raw inside my shoes. And I’ve also learned that the part of socks I hate most are the seams. (Apparently I’m just very sensitive to touch. I hate wearing elastic or scratchy clothing – always have. Loose clothes are the best, and stiff belts or tight shoes are the worst. Don’t ever put a piece of lint in my shoe – I’ll go nuts.)

I now actually wear my socks inside-out. Yep. At any given time, inside my shoes are feet covered in inside-out socks. It doesn’t matter what kind of socks they are. As long as I can have the seam not touching my skin, it’s better. Not great, but better. Now, all of my socks are thin. I can barely stand to have thick socks on, because the seams are thicker. And when I put my shoes on every morning, it sometimes takes several tries before my feet can stand the position of the sock’s seam around my toes.

While my quirk can be frustrating, at least it provides a bit of entertainment. Even I have to admit it’s rather amusing. Maybe one day I’ll be able to wear socks like they’re supposed to be worn. But until then, I’ll just add it to my collection of oddities.

Surely I’m not the only one with a weird clothing quirk.