Jennifer Sivec's Blog, page 4

What’s your sign, baby?

I’m a Pisces. 

At least, I think I’m a Pisces, which is what I’ve gone with my entire life. But since I was abandoned I have no idea what the actual day of my birth is. Since Pisces are born between February 19th and March 20th, it’s possible that I may have been born before or after. 

The sign of the fish does seem to describe me in many ways, so maybe the person who chose my birthday did get it right!

My head was reeling at all of the information out there about Pisces. 

Silly me, I thought being a Pisces was simply about being a sensitive and compassionate person, but it’s much more complicated than that. Astrology is all about how planets line up and to what degree, mythology, stars etc. but for this post’s purposes,  we’ll stick with the basics. It is Monday morning after all.

Strengths-Mostly

Weakenesses-Mostly

Likes & Dislikes-Definitely

Mostly, the sign fits, though it doesn’t often cross my mind that I’m who I am because I’m a Pisces. I’m probably more Pisces than  anything else so I guess I’ll keep it. 

What sign are you?

Just when I thought I couldn’t love Amazon Prime any more, I discovered Amazon Music, a benefit of Prime. I’m completely in love!

This challenge freaks me out because it’s personal. Five fears … the challenge is about your greatest fears but I don’t know if I can dig quite that deep. We’ll see how far I can go. 

I’m with AK Lawrence on two of hers. The first one is snakes. Snakes, rats, mice; basically anything creepy crawly. Even though I live a little rural, I’m a city girl at heart!
The second one is the fear that nobody will ever read my books, which is silly because I have wonderful readers. I think this is every author’s fear and that I would’ve be a normal writer if I wasn’t plagued by self-doubt. 
My children will hate me. They love me now, but I haven’t made any major mistakes yet. I know that as they get older, I’ll have more opportunities to really mess up and it scares the crap out of me. The what-ifs plague me every day and I worry that one day they won’t let me know them anymore. I remind myself to do my best, love them with my whole heart, and not allow my fear to paralyze me.
 Heights. I’m afraid of climbing up and down tall ladders. I don’t mind airplanes or elevators or looking out of windows from tall buildings, but you’ll never catch me sky diving or standing untethered from great heights. 
Vulnerability. This is the only deep fear I’ll share here. My writing makes me vulnerable which can be terrifying, but I share it because it’s good for me. I write because it’s healthy, less expensive than therapy, and more effective. I know that sharing my words opens me up and pushed me outside of my comfort zone, but I know that I need to.

I have many other things I’m afraid of but can’t bring myself to share for fear that they’ll come true. This is about as deep as I can get … the question is, what are you afraid of? 

There’s something you should know about me. 

I LOOOOOOVE quotes. I don’t often post or cite them, but I find something soothing and lyrical about those simple bits of wisdom from others. I keep them hidden in my heart for comfort and warmth and pull them out when I need them the most.

I especially love quotes from Ralph Waldo Emerson, Robert Frost, Helen Keller, Dr. Seuss, Maya Angelou, and the list goes on. I used to keep a book of my favorite quotes when I was younger in my  search for inspiration and wisdom, and even nor a quote will stay with me reminding me to be strong, or grateful, or kind. Words have always been one of my  passions and I love reading those of others whether they be poetic, wise, or insightful. 

The quote I love the most, that I carry with me every day is one by Maya Angelou. 

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

I think about it when I want to be angry, ugly, or nasty, and it think about it when I don’t. I don’t always make the right choices but I try. 

I also often think of Ms. Angelou’s words when I think about giving up on writing. 

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

I remind myself of what it felt like when I stopped any how frustrated I felt with life. 

One of my favorites though not necessarily a quote is the end of Robert Frost’s poem, The Road Not Taken: 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

This reminds me that every decision in my life takes me down a different road and that every decision makes all the difference.

I hope that I get to make a difference, which is why I’m drawn to both the Maya Angelou and Robert Frost quotes. I wonder why else we would be here unless it’s to matter to someone and to have some type of significance. Even if my contribution is small, these words remind me not to be selfish and that my decisions affect others. 

Even if I only inspire my children, that will truly have made all of the difference for me.

Peeves … we’ve all got’em and I doubt that mine will be any different than anyone else’s. I’ve found that mine have changed quite a bit over the years. As I get older I have less of them as I mellow out in my old age and gain perspective on what’s important in life. So here are my top three, not necessarily in order. 

Negativity. I have a hard time with people who dwell on, point out, and live in negativity. I’m all for a good rant every now and and again, but bitching just to bitch really grates on my nerves. I’m a big fan of finding a solution if there’s a problem. I’m also a big fan of finding the good and letting go of the bad, whether it’s situations, things, or people. Surrounding yourself with negative people and behavior only breeds and encourages more negativity. People who complain and spread negativity make me feel stabby!
Mean people. People who enjoy being mean to others because they think they can, completely baffle me. It takes a lot of energy to be mean and not as much to be kind, so I don’t get it. Everyone can probably dig for reasons into their childhood or present life that could give them an excuse to be mean. We’ve all got our demons to fight so there’s no excuse for jerkiness. It’s simple-don’t be an A-hole.
Political correctness. We take ourselves waaaaaaay too seriously. We’re worried to say, laugh at, or write the wrong thing for fear that we’ll offend someone. Offending someone has become almost as bad as killing someone these days. Even worse, we can no longer even laugh at ourselves or have a sense of humor about the world, because everything seems to be the end of it. Common sense is no longer the rule, it’s the exception, and people are no longer allowed to think for themselves. If we pray, salute the flag, or wish someone a Merry Christmas, we have to worry if we’ll offend someone. As an Asian-American female in her forties believe me when I tell you that I’ve seen both sides of being PC, and that the world needs to relax and find its sense of humor and pride again. Oy, people. Give it a rest!

So, go and give someone a hug, tell them they look nice, and have a blessed day.

My longest commute to work has been an hour and a half while my shortest has been fifteen. Right now, I’m somewhere in between, depending on the day. 

My commute to work typically consists of loud music and lots of mental preparedness as I run through my upcoming day. If I need a good pump-up session, I’ll play songs I can sing to so that I’m nice and awake. Yes, I’m the crazy chick rocking out at 7:00 in the morning to anything from Eminem to Ed Sheeran, my taste in music dependent on my mood. It’s rare that I drive to work in silence, though not unheard of.  

My commute home is typically quiet unless I’m wrapping up my day with phone calls. I like the peace and quiet of my drive home and often need it to unwind and clear my mind, in preparation for a crazy household with three crazy males. Since my sons have learned how to FaceTime me, I find that those drives are typically less quiet as they’ll call me and travel me on the way home, often. Now my rides home tend to be more interactive opposed to the solitude that I’m used to but I don’t mind one bit. 

I know how lucky I am to have people who love me and can’t wait to see me. 

I never met fruit that I didn’t like, but I’ve also never met the Durian, also known as stinky fruit. It’s pungent and memorable. I’ve never tried it not do I have any desire to do so. 

The first time I’ve ever even heard of it was on Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmernand it sounded awful. Otherwise, I’m a big fan of all fruit. 

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 

Not too long ago, one of my employees thought that I was the mother of a twenty-something year -old fellow employee of hers. Of course, I balked at the idea until I realized that I AM old enough to be her mother. Gaaaaaah!

In my mind,that twenty-something year-old employee is still me. Then reality sets in and I realize that twenty years have gone by in the blink of an eye. One marriage, two children, two houses, two dogs, and one long and successful career have flown by like a hurricane and I’m twenty years older than when it all began. 

It’s true that I no longer party until the wee hours of the night and that most nights I’m asleep before the evening news has concluded. I can no longer eat whatever I want or lose weight just by thinking about it. I have aches and pains that make me wonder what the hell happened to my body, and I no longer get carded at the bar, on the rare occasion that I’m in one. I’m now the old person at work, the experienced one, and am the senior person in most cases. My kids think that it I’m old and uncool because I don’t know who Fetty Wap is, and I agree with them most days.

I would be lying if I said that getting older didn’t suck sometimes, but I realize that it’s just part of life and I have no choice but to accept it. Fighting it is futile so I embrace my older self, appreciate the wisdom I’ve obtained, and accept that I’m going to have to visit my elliptical a whole helluva lot more than I’ve been. 

Now that I’m no longer the young kid who is up-and-coming, do I ever worry about my place in this world? 

No. 

In many ways, I think think that age is a state of mind. I’ve known seventy year-olds that are like forty-year olds and I’ve known thirty year-olds that remind me of eighty year-olds. When you choose to stop adapting, growing, and learning then you become less useful, less sought-after, and less valuable, no matter how old you are. I think that age matters less than state-of-mind. Does ageism exist in the world? Absolutely! It happens to those who are younger and those who are older and to say it doesn’t exist would be naive. Both think that they know more than the other, but each has something to teach the other. I now know who Fetty Wap is, and my kids learn from their old mom every day. I learn from my younger managers and employees and hopefully in turn, they learn from me. Because we co-exist and appreciate each other, the world is fuller and richer.

I’ve never felt less valuable because of my  age, whether it was to my family, my job, or the world. In many ways, I have so much more to contribute now. I’m wiser, smarter, better organized, more patient, and more intuitive than I’ve ever been. I’m also kinder and better able to let go of things that have hindered me in the past, like toxic people and unnecessary anger. While I no longer have the body of a twenty year old, I am more comfortable in my own skin, yet still willing to improve myself. As with anything in life, age is about perspective and the willingness to have an open heart and an open mind. 

There are times when I wish that I still got carded, but I wouldn’t trade my life now, for any of it. Even though I’m older, I wouldn’t want to learn all of those difficult lessons all over again or struggle through the growing pains. I’ve earned every laugh line and worry line that’s on my face, and I’m stronger for every trial and tribulation that I’ve endured. So, I say to Hell with ageism. Mine will never stop me or define me completely, and if I decide to write another book, get a tattoo, or dye my hair pink when I’m 70, then so be it. The world will just have to be prepared and deal with me!

I’ve been holding this in for far too long. I didn’t finish The Host by Stephanie Myer. I also haven’t finished 11/22/63 by Stephen King. I hate admitting it because I wanted to love both books so much but I found myself wandering off every time I would start them. 

(Pause, so you can throw fruit at me)

Okay, I feel better now.

I really think that it’s probably all about timing with both books and I’ve had readers who dnf the ones I’ve written. I get it. We don’t connect with every book we read but I truly did want to love both of those books, and will likely try and read them both again. I respect both authors so much and love their other works, so I’m hopeful that I’ll connect with the books when I’m meant to. 

Books that I love. 

I know that the post is only about one but that’s like asking me to pick my favorite child. It just can’t be done, or it depends on the day, either way they’re all my favorites. 

I’m currently rereading The Witching Hour by Anne Rice, which I love and have read often over the years. I used to reread East of Eden by John Steinbeck often, but haven’t revisited that classic in many years. I’ve recently read Deadbeat Dates and Deities by my good friend JC Wing, that is both smart and funny. I also love books like The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis and Letters Written in White by Kathryn Perez that capture your imagination, even long after you’ve read them.

One of my favorite books is The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I just love the story about deep love, possibility, and frustration. I love Claire and Henry and wish desperately that they could coexist in the same time period for just a little while longer than what they have, but then there would be no story. Maybe I’m a bit masochistic but the impossible love story is my favorite story of all time. 

I find that I’ve always been drawn to books that speak to me about love, loss, the unimaginable, and the impossible. Those are also the books that I love to write. I guess I’m a sucker for angsty stories, but I also love books that are clever and fun,  as well as books that will stay with me for a lifetime. That’s the beauty of books;  they comfort you, teach you, and expand your heart and mind, and if you find the right one, it’ll change you forever.

I don’t have any tattoos.

I always said that if I didn’t have one by the age of thirty that I wouldn’t get one and  that ship has long sailed. Nothing of great significance happened to me before I was thirty that I wanted to memorialize with any permanence.

Since then, much has happened to change me and I’ve changed my mind. I would get a tattoo, but just haven’t … yet. 

My sisters (in-law) and a I discussed getting Sisters tattoos on our feet, which I would still love to do. 

I’m a big fan of the tattoos on the back of your neck, though I don’t think that’s me. The best tattoo I ever saw was a lovely woman’s grandmother’s signature on the back of her neck. It was a beautiful tribute to her grandmother. 

I’ve contemplated getting a similar one on the inside of my wrist, with my grandma’s I Love You and her Xs and Os, that she sighed every letter she wrote me with. 

Some may be surprised with my affinity for tattoos, but I’ve always liked them and am always curious about what they mean to the person who has them. The more personal, the better, in my opinion.

Who knows, maybe I’ll get one someday. In the meantime, I’ll continue to admire them on others and ask their story about why they got it. For now, that’s good enough for me.