When Expecting the Worst….

I had been anxious, uncertain, and dreading yesterday afternoon for nearly a week. The time had finally come to address an issue regarding an uncomfortable situation with someone that I barely know. Although I felt confident and secure that the choice I was making was right, I had no idea what kind of response I would receive. I don’t like confrontation. It’s a trigger mechanism for me, causing me to just do what someone else wants of me instead of standing firm in the choice that I know is right for me. That’s why I so often end up overcommitted with no clear way out of a bad situation.

Imagine my relief when an anticipated awkward conversation was actually an honest talk between people sharing a common goal. This was not the experience I was expecting at all. What made the difference, you ask? I think there were a couple of factors at play. First, I determined to be transparently honest about a lot of things that I normally would have hidden. I let some walls down and permitted the person on the other side of the table to see my point of view as clearly as I could. It was scary to remove all of the defense mechanisms, but I knew it was the only way that this conversation could be productive and beneficial for everyone involved.

The other factor was one I had no control over, but was given with generosity and grace. The other party came to the table with open ears and an open heart, willing to actually hear the things I was trying to feebly express. I saw no indication of judgement on his face, never felt like a disappointment, or sensed any frustration. Instead, I received compassion, grace, and understanding. For the first time in a very long time, I knew that I was being heard as an individual with hurts, concerns, and choices that had to be made that would be right for me.

I anticipated confrontation. I met grace, compassion, and Christian love. The meeting was scheduled with someone I hardly knew. I left having made a new friend — even though the outcome of our conversation was probably not what he had hoped — and a person that had gained more of my trust simply because he listened….and heard what was being said. I’m so thankful for those times when what we expect are not what we deserve. Yesterday’s potentially awkward conversation was a perfect reminder of the gift of grace that I desperately needed to see.

Laughing at Yourself

Momma said there would be days like this. Days when nothing seems to go quite right no matter what you do. Days when you are not sure if you should just crawl back in bed and try coming out with the next sunrise or simply cower in a far away corner while you wave the white flag of surrender. On these days, you can either choose to cry or learn to laugh at yourself.  I’ve cried enough over the years. I’m finally learning to laugh again….and it feels great!

Laughing at myself and at the absurdity of certain situations helps me to remember just how insignificant some things truly are. Laughing helps me to look for joy even in what feels like the worst of times. It helps me to admit the part I play in the frustrating situation and helps me stay humble. Most of all, laughing at myself reduces stress before it can become overwhelming and helps those around me feel more comfortable as well. That sounds like a win-win situation to me!

Clear out the grey clouds that are trying to loom over your day and simply chuckle. After all, things can’t always go wrong….and if they do, you’ll still be able to find something to smile about.

Finding Moments of Escape

Privacy and quietness are prized possessions of the introvert. These golden treasures can also be horribly elusive. The roar of the television, the incessant dialogue about “nothing”, and the demand to do life scream for our focus and attention while our inner self is crying out for a moment to solitude. At times, the introvert’s attempts to escape the maddening crowd can be viewed as rudeness. We are accused of wanting to be a hermit. As a self-proclaimed introvert, here are a few ways that I have found to grab moments of escape without offending others (most of the time….)

• Quietly disappear. Many times it is really that simple. When you find yourself becoming stressed by the crowd, quietly walk away without explanation or theatrics. This allows the “crowd” to continue their fun without worrying about you.
• Set a timer and relax. When the “crowd” is more intimate and an extended absence would be more noticeable, set a timer for 5 or 10 minutes and escape. Do whatever brings you peace — reading, listening to music, meditating, or lying down — without guilt. The knowledge that the timer will recall you to the scene when necessary allows your mind to rest and gives your introvert the break that is desperately needed.
• Prepare an answer for your return. If your absence was noticed, you want to have an honest answer ready for the concerned. A short response like “I needed to catch my breath” allows you to tell the truth without making others present feel uncomfortable or guilty. As you spend more time with the group, they will become more accepting of your short escapes and the questions will come less frequently.

It is also possible to minimize the frequency of your need to escape from the crowd. Preparing yourself mentally for the “crowd” in advance can be extremely helpful. This includes estimating how long you need to be present before leaving and looking forward to smaller, more personal interactions within the larger setting. I also find it helpful to regularly schedule “mental health” escapes. These might include a trip to the movies or a local museum alone; a relaxing afternoon in the park or local library can also provide a calming escape from the normal hustle and bustle. Lastly, speak honestly with trusted friends and family about your occasional need for escape. People tend to be more understanding and accepting than you expect and can provide cover for you when you find yourself needing to retreat momentarily.

Being an introvert is not an illness; it’s just the way we are wired. It’s not right or wrong. It’s just you (and me). Accept and love yourself in spite of the “awkward” situations you find yourself in and consistently learn new ways to cope with your need to be alone sometimes.

Is It Possible to Be Too Cautious?

Last week, I planned to meet a man that I have known for several years through cyberspace. We both are members of a piano teacher’s forum and have connected because we are two of the very few men in the group and both live in the South. He and his family were taking a road trip that led them through Memphis, and since I was here as well, we decided to meet briefly for coffee. (He would drink the coffee; I would have a Coke.)

On the day that we were to meet, we were in contact in the forum and settled on a place and time. I sent him a private message that included my cell phone number, letting him know that he could feel free to call or text if he got lost or was running late. What I assumed was a kind gesture led to a very long email that was essentially a lecture on how irresponsible I was to give out my phone number so easily to someone I had never met. He told me how necessary it was to be careful and that if we ended up meeting, I should know that he would be armed in order to guarantee his safety. To say I was a little shocked is putting it mildly. After I apologized for offending him (apparently), I got one last message telling me that the family’s travel plans had changed and they would not be stopping as we had planned.

I am well aware of the importance of being cautious in our online activity. I have heard the horror stories of meeting someone you have met online in person only to have a disastrous result. Still, I find myself wondering if it is possible to take caution too far. At what point do we let our good sense and intuition guide us rather than succumbing to absolute fear? If we refuse to trust the goodness in people, we are potentially shutting ourselves off from healthy new relationships. Constant fear limits our ability to experience new adventure. Quite simply, when we constantly anticipate the worst in all situations and people, the outcome is crippling.

I have to wonder what was at work in my friend’s life to cause him to be so untrusting. Was there a suspicion of technology at work? Was this simply a generational difference? (He is in his early 60s.) Had he recently heard frightening news stories about the area? Has he had a bad experience in the past with a similar situation? I don’t know and doubt that I will every learn the truth. It appears that he has chosen to leave the piano forum.

Perhaps I am too naïve, but I choose to trust my instincts to guide me. I refuse to live in constant fear, always being suspicious of the intentions of other people. My views may change as I continue to age, but for now, I choose to live life without fear to the fullest!

Not Getting Paid As Promised!

I have gone back and forth about whether I should really write this post….but I finally decided to go ahead with it. I need to vent. After all, this is my personal blog….about my life and experiences.

Last month, I was contacted by a local high school to do some playing for an instrumental competition — Texas UIL Solo and Ensemble. The rehearsal process involved several evenings of rehearsals. That’s not exactly true. The evenings were spent teaching high school students to count basic rhythms, learning complex accompaniment parts, and twiddling my thumbs when these irresponsible students didn’t show up for rehearsal slots they had reserved. I agreed to do it because I believe in music education and wanted to begin a solid relationship with the high school. The rate of $45 per student was quoted to my colleague and me for the rehearsals and performances. I needed the money……so I agreed to take on 20 students.

I’ve already vented about the insane amount of paperwork I had to complete for this gig, so I won’t rehash that frustration. Still, I was beginning to wonder when I was going to actually see the money. I built my budget expecting to have the extra $900 in my account. Imagine my surprise when I received an email from the assistant band director yesterday telling me that he needed an invoice for the services before I could get paid. I can handle that with no problem.  But he further tells me that I will be paid $20/hour for rehearsal and $20/student for the performance. Students that didn’t show up for the competition are being deducted from my compensation — even though I already learned their music!  (Did I mention that I also had to sight read a piece at the competition with a student because his inept coaches gave him the WRONG BLASTED PIECE to play?!?!?) Before you think I’m complaining over a reduction of $5 per student, it’s much more severe; student rehearsals were 7 minutes long!  In other words, I am being paid HALF of what I was quoted when I agreed to perform.

I don’t know if this is a case of deception, poor communication, or incompetence. I’m in a pickle though. I can send the invoice for the correct amount and have my payment delayed longer because the amount was not approved by the district. When the assistant director was questioned, he said that he mistakenly quoted the amount for the state competition instead of the regional. Either way, because this was a verbal agreement, I don’t have a leg to stand on for the promised rate of payment. Since services have already been rendered, I don’t have anything I can withhold until I receive all of my money.

What does this mean for the future? I suppose I’ll have to have a written contract that includes rate of payment before agreeing to play. I hate to become that person, but I have to protect myself and make sure that I’m receiving the payment I deserve and was promised.

Oh…..I forgot to mention that this same school has already asked me to accompany students at the state competition. I don’t know how I can trust the institution to pay a fair amount after being stiffed. This is certainly not going to make me want to play for PISD in the future.

Paperwork is the Pits!

I absolutely love making music. I love getting to work with young students and presenting performances to showcase their hard work and talent. I love the fact that I get paid to make music daily. However, I hate filling out paperwork in order to get paid.

Let me give you a little background before I launch into this rant. I have been contracted to accompany a few instrumental students from Plainview High School for an upcoming competition this weekend. I did some similar work for another area high school a few weeks back as well. For that school, I simply had to provide my social security number and my fee; a check was cut and sent right away. That’s the situation that I am used to when working as a contracted professional in high schools in Arkansas, Tennessee, California, and now — Texas.

But wait! Plainview is going to need additional information. I spent a significant chunk of my lunch hour filling out a part-time job application — did I mention that this job will involve a total of 8 hours of work by the time the contest is over? — that was PAGES UPON PAGES in length. Come on! Do I really need to decline health insurance? How many times must I declare that I am a U.S. citizen? I understand that much of this is mandated by the federal government, but I find myself wondering if my short-term involvement actually requires all of this. Based on the comments of the employees that were trying to get all of the paperwork together, they were not entirely sure that it was necessary…..but their supervisors demanded it be done, so here we are. My work with the school district will most likely be done before this mass of paperwork is actually processed! This is insane! No wonder people shy away from getting involved with public school districts for short-term commitments.

Now that I’ve ranted about the lunacy of the situation, I’ll accept the fact that I’ve lost those precious minutes of my life, chalk it up as another example of inane bureaucratic crap, and prepare to take a voided check back to the business office so I can actually get paid the money that I’m working to earn.

My Vacation Alarm Clock

When I take a vacation, one of the things I most look forward to is sleeping in past my normal alarm time. I’m not tethered to my regular schedule; I have no pressing commitments or appointments to keep. It’s not always possible to avoid the annoying alarm clock entirely when visiting family.

Staying with family in another town is an easy way to vacation without breaking the bank. It’s always important to remember that the family you are staying with still has their regular routine and responsibilities. This may mean that you may not get as much sleep as you had hoped.

On our recent trip to Texas, I crashed on a cot in the living room. Obviously, this area would be a major thoroughfare in the home. Located next to the kitchen, I could always expect at least one nighttime visit from the teenager who refuses to conform to traditional sleep habits. My Dad’s sole purpose for heading to Texas each year is the fishing. In order to avoid the exorbitant heat, he and my cousin would head out around 5am each morning. Dad cannot walk quietly on the hardwood floor….it’s simply impossible!

Just as I would finally drift again to the Land of Nod, I was greeted by numerous alarm clocks sounding at once. Literally! The sleeper in the bedroom off the kitchen cannot wake up! To solve this problem, she sets numerous bells, chimes, and songs that are intended to raise the dead. As the zombie begins to rise, the energetic grandson enters to greet his Nana while his mother packs his lunch for the day. As this is happening in the kitchen, there is a constant procession from the refrigerator to the bathroom. Most mornings I’m playing opossum to avoid early morning conversations with all of these “wide-awake” people. By the time everyone leaves for work, I’m wide awake and roll over to find Mom perched on the couch. In the early days of each vacation, this is the point where I attempt to grab a few more minutes of sleep by stealing away to Mom and Dad’s room. However, it doesn’t take many attempts to remember that I can rarely go back to sleep once I am fully awake. Thankfully, I’m on vacation and don’t have to form any type of coherent thought….because Heaven knows that logical thought is one of the first things to go when I am sleep deprived.

Despite the early morning wake ups, this year’s family vacation was a great time away, visiting with family and enjoying a little relaxation.

Wearing the Wrong Pants

Despite my offers to handle things, Mom insisted on coming home for an afternoon while Dad was in the hospital to take care of the laundry. (I seem to have a vague recollection of pink t-shirts and underwear when I was in college that may explain her feelings about my laundry skills. The specifics seem to be fading from memory now….) Imagine my surprise when I discovered that my Mom is also susceptible to laundry mistakes.

It had been another long week filled with teaching, rehearsals, and daily trips to the hospital. When Friday finally rolled around, I was a bit perturbed that I had to conduct a student conference on a day I was scheduled to be off work. Heaven forbid that faculty appear on campus wearing anything less than business casual! On this particular Friday, I was impressed that I had managed to pull clothes from the closet that actually matched and got them on my body successfully. I barely remember getting dressed at all.

As the day progressed, I began to notice that I was having issues with my slacks. My heel was getting caught in the cuff. My belt was singed tightly against my waist, but the pants did not feel normal. I began to think that all of the busyness of the last few weeks had equated to some weight loss. When visiting the men’s room, I had to check that the clasp was still in tact. My pants were entirely too loose.

As I was driving home, I decided it was time to check the tags and figure out what was going on. Upon inspection, I realized that I had been wearing my dad’s pants all day long. Dad’s waistband is four inches larger than mine! How in the world had this happened? Then it dawned on me…Mom had dealt with the laundry last weekend while barely able to keep her eyes open. She hung Dad’s pants in my closet! After shaking my head at her mistake, I was very thankful that the slacks had stayed around my waist all day. A single tug caused by a missed step could have resulted in a breezy and embarrassing situation with my — or Dad’s — pants gathered around my ankles.

It’s safe to assume that I will be paying closer attention to the tags in all of my clothes for at least the next few weeks. And I’ll smile to know that my potential wardrobe malfunction has not had the chance for a repeat performance.

Tattered Pants

When I come home from a long day of work, the first thing I want to do is get comfortable. Call them lounge pants, pajama bottoms, or sleep pants……putting these pants on is a highlight of my day. My body is comfortable, my mind is at rest, and I’m ready to enjoy the last few hours of my day. While I have several pairs of them, there is one pair that I always go back to……or at least that I always WENT back to……here’s the story.

The pants are certainly not a fashion statement. They are beige with large blue stripes. I’ve worn them for several years now and they have begun to show their age. The fabric has thinned. The edges have begun to fray. The elastic waistband has started to peek through the cloth. Several holes have formed. Actually, “holes” is probably an inaccurate word choice. “Craters” would be a more truthful depiction of the tears.

Earlier this week, I was relaxing in my room wearing these favorite pajamas. I turned and heard fabric tearing. My heart sank, but I still didn’t want to accept the inevitable. Another movement lead to a more pronounced ripping sound. This sound was accompanied by a breeze along my right leg though. Not only had the pajamas torn, the entire seam along the leg had come apart! Thank goodness there was no one around! I would have been petrified!

Alas, I had to say goodbye to my pajama pants. (For the record, there wasn’t enough of the leg remaining to attempt turning them into shorts either!) They found their way into the trash heap. If a sanitation worker runs across them, I’m sure they will conjure some interesting story! Oh well, now I’ll just have to start the process of finding a new favorite pair of sleep pants.

P.S. I plan to enjoy the Labor Day holiday with my family on Monday, so there will be no new post. Livin’ Life will return on Wednesday with the latest edition of “Hits and Misses.”

Making Small Talk

Regardless of who you are or what you do, the ability to make small talk with strangers and casual acquaintances is essential. Some people are blessed with the gift of gab. I’m not one of those people. I don’t enjoy hearing myself talk and tend to allow others to lead the way. Still, I have learned to chat when the need arises.

Small talk is easy in certain situations. I met a new colleague this week and we discovered that we share a common interest. There’s something to talk about…..and we talked and talked! Nothing was earth-shattering about our conversation, but we began to build a relationship. When you run into treasured people from your past after months or years of separation, conversation flows as you remember times gone by and catch up on each other’s lives.

The worst possible situation is making small talk with those people that really didn’t leave a positive impression on you during previous interactions. The dialogue is only made worse when the other party thinks that you have more in common than you really do. Earlier this week I experienced one of those horribly awkward situations. I ran into an acquaintance who I was hoping would be satisfied with a simple hello. No….this person wanted to chat. Questions are asked and answered with little real sharing. Then there was the dreaded sound of the proverbial crickets chirping as I frantically waited for something to be said. Ugh! Finally, the individual ended the conversation with “Well, don’t let me keep you.” It wasn’t my intention to be rude, but the conversation was over before it began.

For years, people have tried to make me feel guilty for not being a social butterfly. News alert, folks:  I don’t! There’s a huge difference between unacceptable rudeness and the quiet introversion that makes me who I am. While I can make small talk with others in my profession, I choose not to do that in my personal life. If I don’t have an authentic connection with a person, I’m not going to attempt to convince you that we do. I choose to leave the small talk for the office; I prefer real dialogue with my friends.