MONDAY THOUGHTS: UP ABOVE MY HEAD

I wake up every day to the sounds of traffic, landing airplanes, chirping birds, car horns, sirens, and the muffled voices of children who are on their way to school. 

Sometimes I can hear the automated voices of Metro buses announcing stop locations, the hum of lawn mowers, jackhammers, or the rumbling of garbage trucks. 

It's all coming from outside. 

It's all a part of city living. 

It's expected. 

It's a part of the territory. 

Many times, however, it's quiet, and those times are like unexpected gifts. 

My sensibilities, however, dictate that I really should abandon the city and live in some remote, pastoral, rural area. 

I often wonder if I would, if I had the necessary cash to acquire a country home. 

I like DC, though. I do. 

I like Bellevue, mostly for it's proximity to every major highway, airports, and shopping. 

It's also not very far from the house where I grew up. 

My initial decision to live here was based on avoiding rush hour traffic, and being able to walk to work. 

My decision to stay has been challenged often, but obviously never changed. 

There have been noisy times, but they're always temporary. 

The noise above has always been a random police helicopter, re-routed incoming flights to Washington-Reagan, fireworks, thunder, or sleet. 

It always passes. 

Neighbors overhead, however, present a different challenge.

It's been several years since there was a tenant in the condo upstairs. It's been vacant much longer than not, and I've grown accustomed to the relative peace. 

I now have new neighbors, and as expected, with new neighbors comes noise. 

It should be regarded with as much nonchalance as the outdoor sounds, of which one has little control, but it isn't. 
The notion is that great consideration should automatically rule and reign when one does not live alone. 

No one, however is going to tiptoe around in their own home like a frightened rabbit. 

Every now and then, you're going to drop or slam something, or need to move quickly. 

Something may fall. 

There are things one must do while at home, and some of it requires energy and effort. 

The new sounds have introduced ear intrusions that greatly eclipse the outside sounds in volume and tolerance level. There are bricks, mortar and glass that diffuse the outside noise. There's apparently nothing protecting me from the noise upstairs. 

There are several loose floorboards-- and children. The combination of creaking, crunching, crying, running, squishing, stomping, jumping and banging is alive, abusive, and without harmony. 

It's an organism. 

It seems to be tangible. 

The sounds aren't just at the source. They invade my space like a runaway train. 

I physically sense them. 

I may as well be making them myself! 

They are present...in my face...an unwelcome part of my days and nights. 

The sounds are not just up there, they're in here. I mean, really IN here...in glorious surround sound. It's like being randomly punched, kicked, or pushed around by something you can't see. 

The noise travels across the ceiling and down the walls like a vine in a horror movie. 

It seems that, at any time, something or someone is going to come crashing through the ceiling. 

It is obvious that there isn't an ounce of insulation between the floors, just lots and lots of old wood...and loose nails...that needs glue...lots and lots of glue.

I hate complaining about anything as much as I hate confrontation. Something has to be done about the flooring above, though. I'm listening to the creaking, squeaking, snapping, thuds, thumps, bangs, bumps, and crunching, combined with the sounds of a riding mower, right now as I type. 

It's the supposed helplessness that makes you want to cry. 

What do you say? "Stop walking, running, moving, and being!" That would be highly inappropriate. 

What do you do? 

Bang on the ceiling with a broom handle? 

Run upstairs and pound on your neighbor's door? 

Have a fit?  

Of course not. 

The new neighbors are just living. 

They're not on a mission to drive me crazy. 

They're not deliberately being inconsiderate jerks. They're just living. 

There is that one floorboard I wish they'd avoid, though...or drive several screws or nails into it.

Today is yet another day when I wish I were independently wealthy. (I must get on that.) 

Everyone would have a single family home...or at least, I'd pay to have the floor boards secured, install a floating floor, insulation, or plush carpet, or state of the art soundproofing, and then pay to have them switch units with the lady downstairs who lives alone--she's as quiet as a feather.
It's an old building, so I'm sure that some amount of noise is an issue for everyone in the community who has someone living above them. How are other neighbors coping? 

A few nights ago, I turned on my voice memo on my phone to capture the noise. I let it run all night as I slept. I managed to obtain lots of auditory proof of a definite problem, in case I do decide to share it with the condo association. 

I also managed to obtain proof that I probably need to participate in a sleep study. Guess I won't be sharing that particular memo, after all...lol.

Maybe I should be less concerned about the noise upstairs, and more concerned about my labored, intermittent breathing. Yep. It's time to lighten up. Considering all of the ills in the world, if a little noise (or a lot) is my biggest problem, I suppose I'm doing okay.

How do you handle those things about which you can, presently, do little or nothing other than acknowledge their existence? 

Changing your attitude is a good start. 

I could move, or ask my neighbors to stop moving. Neither of those options is reasonable. 

I could have a tantrum. 

I could just go into the hallway and scream at the top of my lungs about all of the problems in the building. That would surely prompt someone to phone the authorities. 

A padded cell might provide just the quiet I adore, but a straight-jacket would be a definite bummer. 

One always has choices. Being frustrated or angry, although justifiable, won't help either. The thought that there is nothing you can do about something that impacts you every single day, is troubling in and of itself, without making things worse by reacting badly. 

Is the annoyance you face just one more thing to send you over the edge, or one more thing to motivate you to make some changes to improve your own lot? 

Do you have to be where you are, or do you choose to be? If it's a choice--if you're determined to stay--what's a part of the territory with which you need to find creative ways to cope? 

Okay. Perhaps you didn't start the problem. 

Perhaps you shouldn't have to deal with it. 

Perhaps you do resent that you're faced with finding solutions to a situation you didn't create--solutions that may be a bit uncomfortable, expensive, inconvenient, or require change, but feeling resentful and remaining frustrated won't make things better. 

Only you can alter how you feel about life's unexpected lemons.
If you can do something about a thing, go ahead. Whether that means, moving, talking a walk, donning earplugs, listening to ambient sounds, praying, singing, meditating, writing, or confronting, just do it. 

Make lemonade every chance you get.

FRIDAY THOUGHTS: THE CREATIVE WORKPLACE

You know what you're capable of, and you may not be the very best on Earth at it, but you still endeavor to do your best. 

You're also (if you're wise), always keenly aware that at any time, someone else can arrive on the scene and do, replicate, enhance, improve upon, or completely replace what you've done, leaving no trace of your efforts. Being okay with that, is one of the healthiest and most liberating feelings.  

(If you've already cashed the check, it's even better...lol...Ask any actor whose scene ended up on a cutting room floor.) 

To harmoniously work with others; be supportive, complimentary, and genuinely inspired by them, is a wonderful thing. 

The company of secure, creative people is magical. Those who can't tap into that kind of harmony, will expose and spread their own ills, envy, or inadequacy if they can. 

You, however, don't ever have to be drawn into the fray.

  
Recognize when people are comparing you, or your abilities to those of others, not in a genuinely complimentary way, but to blow smoke up your butt, gain compliance, get something for nothing, or exert control. Don't ignore that flag. 

Pitting people against each other is a desperate, psychological attempt at achieving power. Those who do it, don't ever expect you to call their bluff, take your proverbial marbles, and go happily play where those kind of mind games don't exist. 

If someone is continuously suggesting, insinuating, or reminding you that someone else can, and is willing, even desperate, to do your job, you may have to be bold enough to suggest that they contact and contract that "someone else", politely excuse yourself, and move on to the next stress-free opportunity. 

There always is one, you know, even if you create it yourself.

Always be in a position to encourage creative individuals. No. Encourage everyone. 

When you have the capacity, maturity, and willingness to admire, share, and even promote the gifts and talents of others, no one can manipulate you, puff you up, or launch you into pointless, destructive competition with your peers.

 

The goodness, or greatness of another person's ability takes absolutely nothing away from you. Catty imps may attempt to sow seeds of discord or insecurity, but, hey-- that's what catty imps do. 

You just keep genuinely applauding what's worthy of appreciation. 

Warm your own heart. It's positively therapeutic. 

It also honors and acknowledges God. 

He's made sure that everyone is good at something. Find out exactly what that is, in yourself and others, and glorify Him with and because of it. 

Celebrating, and not coveting or despising the abilities of others, is one of life's highlights--and it makes for a remarkable, productive workplace environment.

Strife is an enemy of creativity. Don't get caught up in it. 

You'll find that your greatest alliance is not with the instigator--the person desiring or exerting control, but with the individual(s) from which (if you're not thinking clearly) you'll distance yourself, begin to see as a threat, or begin to treat unkindly, disrespectfully or unfairly. 

It's usually the person who sees themselves as less valuable, who sows seeds of discord in creative situations. 

There are enough legitimate enemies, without allowing others to create new ones for you. 

If opportunists will manipulate them, don't think that you're not next in line. 

When it comes to those who see others as disposable, you can still do a good job for them, but you should never, ever get too comfortable or cozy.

Know why you do what you do, be crystal clear about it, and determine if the payoff--whatever it is--is truly worth your time, contributions, sacrifice, effort, and energy. 

Once you're darned sure; once you have established the parameters of your participation, you can carry on, and deliver consistently good work.

Many are often grossly mistaken about how hard-pressed you are to do one thing or another. Maybe it's your work ethic, attitude, or enthusiasm on the job that makes people think that "No" is not in your vocabulary.

When people switch from friendship mode to business mode, you'd better switch too--with all deliberate speed. When people show you who they are, don't daydream in the land of what you wish they'd be. 

Don't be the deer caught in headlights, because you weren't paying attention. 

Even if the work is fun, it's still work. 

Details can't be dealt with casually. 

You get what you permit. 

Don't be afraid to say what you want. If it's rejected, you haven't lost a thing. 

Know your worth and the value of your time. Differentiate employment, recreation, socializing, and volunteering. 

It's too late to try and make those distinctions when the work is done.

Mind the employer who sings your praises, while simultaneously bashing someone whose praises they used to sing. 

One day, you may meet that person who was cast aside, and find you're not as special or indispensable as you were led to believe, and your days, too, have always been numbered. 

Loyalty is learned, and so is deception. 

Refuse to be bought, and avoid a "groupthink" mentality. Speak up if you have to. 

People will use you, and attempt to silence you if you allow it. They'll try to make you think your skills are a dime a dozen, too. It's your choice to accept or reject the thought.

On the job, you may see people taking on roles that have nothing to do with the principal thing; jockeying for position; bragging about or fabricating relationships; inflating their importance. They are always frustrated when, in the end, all of their efforts don't get them what they really want. 

There's a difference between a conscientious person and a brown-noser. Sucking up always backfires when dealing with people who have a documented habit or history of regarding things, profits, their reputation, or the finished work, more than the people who labor to get a thing done. 

Unhealthy competition backfires, too. Take flattery with a grain of salt.

Make sure your working relationships are strong and respectful, however, recognize the difference between coworkers and friends. 

Cherish the rare times when they are one in the same, but even then, focus on the job. 

Setting boundaries and knowing expectations, is important. You always have a choice to remain or go. It's when you feel you don't, (often because of finances) that the dynamics of working relationships can seem abusive, stressful, tiring, frustrating, unfair, unclear, tricky, or shady. 

Know who you're working for.

Always remember that people matter, and God opens all the windows and doors of good opportunities. 

He is your source. HE dispenses favor--even when people begin to labor under the misapprehension that they do, and endeavor to convince you of it.  

BROWSING

The great customer service I'd been shown in the last few days reminded me of an in- store experience last weekend.
I'd had a lovely time at the festival, fell in love with the quaint town I was visiting, and was happy to be spending the night before returning home. I left the picturesque park, drove around a bit, admiring the serenity and neatness, then headed to the hotel. On the way, I saw a strip mall and decided to shop.
I didn't investigate, but some of the stores seemed to be closed. Either that, or the store lighting was unusually dim. I figured it was yet another sleepy town that closes shop early. One store was obviously open, though, and I was glad. For me, a hotel stay means, buy some Lysol or even Clorox, especially if a bath is in my future. I thought I'd pick up some kind of calming bath, bubbly something or other, something to drink, and even a few snacks for the room. I wasn't in a hurry, didn't have a list, and decided I'd just browse the aisles and pick up things as I went. I parked, took my debit and store discount cards from my purse, and entered the store. It was spacious and quiet. It seemed as if I was the only customer, and there was only one person working behind the check-out counter. I may have been in the store 10 minutes when I turned a corner and the woman I'd seen behind the counter came around a corner and almost ran into me. She was startled and flustered. She'd come looking for me. "Here we go", I thought. I'm not sure what she expected me to be doing other than shopping. I certainly hadn't been looking for her, and didn't need help. I was finding what I wanted on my own. Maybe in her estimation, I'd been missing from her view for too long. I don't know why stores stock merchandise in the back if, when customers venture to the back of the store it's a source of intense anxiety...Maybe people didn't generally come into the store and stay very long. Maybe I'd broken some customer browsing record or rule.  I was happily strolling up and down the aisles, arms almost full, and could have stayed in the store indefinitely. I wasn't in a hurry at all, but was on my way to the register soon.
The lady had come to look for me, but hadn't quite worked out what she would say when she found me. So, I waited. What did she want? Was the store about to close? Was there a special she'd neglected to tell me about? Was there a fire drill? Why had she left the front of the store and boldly sought me out? Did she think I'd passed out? Did she think I was hatching some diabolical plot? What if I WERE an armed criminal? She'd left the relative safety of the front of the store and come to find me. There we were. Just the two of us. If I'd wanted to, or had the mind to harm her, I certainly could have. If she'd wanted to harm me, my only recourse would have been smushing her face with a roll of Bounty, or blinding her with Early Morning Breeze-scented Lysol.
In the time she took to search for me, an actual thief could have made off with plenty of merchandise. I waited to see what she wanted. "Ma'am, we're about to close in 5 minutes" would have been appropriate given her posture, tone, and the look on her face. I guess customers who dash into stores right at closing time can be a bit infuriating to employees who are ready to go home. The store, however, closed at 10PM. It wasn't anywhere near that time.
All she managed to ask was, "Are you finished?" Where was I? In a store or sitting at a restaurant table? I wanted to ask, "Finished what?" but instead, I laughed and replied, "I guess I am. I'd better be. I'm running out of room to carry things." All of a sudden I didn't feel particularly welcome. Yep. I was finished.
Perhaps she didn't feel safe. I don't know. There I was, a stranger in town, dressed in a black maxi dress on one of the hottest days of the year-- and not carrying a purse. I decided my carefree browsing was over. She then followed me to the front of the store and took her place behind the register. The kicker was the look on her face when I produced my discount card and my debit card. Her disposition changed. She was suddenly pleasant. (Sometimes pleasantness comes on the scene a hair too late). I was actually a loyal customer of the chain, a stranger in town, true, but certainly not a shoplifter. Perhaps I would have spent more money had she left me alone. I definitely would have had she asked a kind, "May I help you?" or "Ma'am, are you finding everything, okay?" instead of a hostile, snarky "Are you finished?"
 
A conscientious store employee won't soundly obliterate your browsing flow by assuming you're a thief. They'll eagerly find you a basket or cart. It's happened to me at Giant in Fort Washington, Target in Lanham, Ross in Rivertowne, Rite-Aid in SW DC, and CVS in Oxon Hill. Smiling, understanding and sympathetic employees approach and say, "Here! Let me help you!"  What do you do? You keep shopping. It's good for their bottom line AND your retail needs.

When you're a law abiding citizen, you feel some kind of way when people assume you're a criminal and commence to treat you as if you are one. You don't think you look or behave suspiciously, but perhaps, to some people, you do. You don't think you're dangerous, menacing or destructive, but in the eyes of others, you are--no matter how you present yourself, behave, or communicate. Maybe it's a sign of the times, or maybe it's just the unfortunate fact that stereotypes, prejudice and fear still exist.
I've been followed in stores before. It used to annoy me. Now, I sometimes make a game of it. Store employees soon get tired of following you after you take them on twists and turns up and down the aisles and between the racks in their own places of employment-- and end up on their heels. They soon leave you alone and allow you to shop. There's a balance, however, that some employees have mastered. They know how to offer help, back off, and actually be helpful when asked.  Some, unfortunately, are just nuts. They forget that it's a store, not a museum. The products are for sale, not preservation. Some employees are so busy protecting the merchandise that they abuse and offend the people whose intent is to buy it. I suppose their aim is to not to reveal they're actually monitoring you, but I haven't encountered a store stalker yet who does it very well. They get awfully flustered when you come face to face with them, apologetically backpedal when you actually buy something, and they can't ever effectively explain why they are invading your personal space like a crazed mosquito instead of manning the cash register or door.

Maybe sensitivity training is in order. Maybe people who don't like people shouldn't work in retail. Maybe customer service has to be taught. I guess you don't know who's been robbed at gunpoint or locked in a supply closet and now views and profiles everyone who walks into a store as a potential threat. It won't stop me from browsing or shopping and I won't let one person ruin my opinion of a lovely town. If it happens again, though...Oh, who am I kidding. I'll just keep shopping and, hopefully, dispelling unfounded fears and ignorance one employee at a time.
The whole thing reminded me of my childhood when my Mother would dress up in her Sunday best--suit, gloves, hat, and pumps-- and dress us up, too---to go shopping. One had to look respectable, even affluent, then, but still ran the risk of being discriminated against in a place where they voluntarily came to spend their hard earned money.
Sadly, some things never change. What you don't do is let them wreck your day, or cause you to skip acknowledging when things go exceptionally well...: )

MONDAY THOUGHTS: SAVING SOLES

I like browsing online...I don't have to buy a thing...just look, admire, and move on....

I remember when I couldn't pass up a cute shoe, though--especially one considerably marked down in price. (I stopped saying "for/on sale". My Dad says, "EVERYTHING in the store is "on sale", and who set the prices?"

My motto used to be "The higher the better"...in reference to shoes, that is...Can you see me high? Me either…lol)

I remember my first sky-high pair of shoes. It was Easter Sunday 1972, and my mom was so upset. I recall her muttering something about my Dad knowing better, and me potentially breaking my neck or ankles. She was still sewing for the three of us that Easter eve, so my dad took Robyn and me to the Eastover Shopping Center J.C. Penney to buy shoes and said, "Get what you want so we can get out of here". 

We happily lost our minds that day...Mommy would have gone to "Stride Rite", "Jr. Mode Bootery", or "Boyce and Lewis" to purchase "good" shoes. 

I used to think there was a person named Arthur Pedic, and I hated him AND his ugly, "good" shoes.

The older I get, I appreciate dear ol' Arthur and all of his supportive, low, pain-free, cushion-y friends...The next high-as-a-kite pair I remember were for high school graduation. Bakers Shoes...Iverson Mall...When I made my choice, I clearly forgot about the slippery, marble runway that is St. Aloysius Gonzaga Church's middle aisle...I tipped all the way to my seat, but I liked my white shoes. I even added the shoe in one of my first drawing assignments in college...These days, my knees sit me down periodically to inquire whether or not I would like them to hang with me for the duration. I see their point, so I have descended to Earth considerably, always have flats on hand, and have let go of many pairs...*sigh*... Oh, I've kept a few favorites, but they now have a very strict time limit...I still like to look, though. There's something architectural; something positively artsy about certain shoes, even if putting them on and immediately taking a seat is all they're good for. It's funny how you can sense intense pain just by looking, so you make different choices...However, I think someone who has paid their tithes, rent/mortgage/utilities, bought groceries, added to their savings account, and has a few dollars to squander--AND quiet, not so bossy knees-- needs this simple, girly pair in their lives...They're currently available at one of my favorite sites, Gilt.com. Buy them. http://www.gilt.com/sale/women/fall-shoes-6633/product/1050526863-maiden-lane-ella-t-strap-pointed-toe-pump

It would make me very, very happy for you.