Friday, November 11, 2005

Guilt, Regrets, Remorse & Goals… In that order.

I believe in reflection. I’ve been thinking a lot about the way I process things mentally lately. Fall brings with it the need for me to reflect. Like Jimmy Buffett says, “I took a week off just to try to recall the whole year.” Love that song… wish I could remember the name so you could all listen to it with me.

Guilt: What’s worse than guilt? Smugness. Yep, that’s me. I’m smug. A much nastier condition than guilt. Sure, I suffer from typical raised-Catholic guilt. (My grandma could get me to do anything she wanted just by giving me a look.) But, really, when I look at my situation… I’m damn close to having it all. I have a gorgeous home (ok, it only has 2 bedrooms & 1 bathroom, pink countertops, peach carpet, a sloping floor & a bachelor packrat living under the kitchen. The décor runs a little too much toward elk prints for my personal taste but I consider that a small marriage compromise). (Side tangent: Does the punctuation inside the ( ) marks or outside? I can never remember… where is my Holt Handbook?) I have a fantastic husband (ok, he’s a little moody, he obsesses about his weight & he mumbles, but he’s funny, smart & sexy). I have a sweet & clever kid (well, ok, he doesn’t eat veggies or fruit and he loves to do “dangerous tricks” and someday he will be 2 or 16 and I will pay the price for all the naughty things I’ve ever done in this life but that’s about karma and, really, that isn’t his fault). I have a job (yes, I’d like to cut back my hours & sometimes it bores the hell out of me and sometimes it is frustrating and I wish it paid more but it has great flexibility and I love the people I work with….). I have great friends (Lala, I wish you lived closer. K- I’ll call you this afternoon… swimming then drinks at my house, I promise we’ll use the BIG wine glasses… bring Baby K’s jammies so you can spend the night.) (Side tangent: Why does MS Word change “jammies” into “jimmies” every time I type it? What the hell is a jimmies? Also, please note how I strategically got past the “I know the punctuation should go inside the quotation marks but I hate that because it looks odd” dilemma by using italics…)

Regrets: I don’t have a lot of regrets. Well, let me rephrase that… I have a lot of things in my past that I COULD regret but I choose not too. Hell, I’m a very interesting person and I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have my, um, colorful past. There are a couple of things that haven’t come-to-pass that I think about sometimes. I always wanted to raise my children in a multi-lingual household. That isn’t happening. I also mourn the general lack of ethnic diversity in Montana (Really, all we’ve got are Native Americans, unless, of course, you count Hutterites and Canadians) and I dread raising a child who might look askance at someone’s skin simply due to lack of exposure to variety.

Remorse: I think remorse really only should happen when you do something big & bad…. Like when you maim or kill someone. I mean someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Goals: Don’t ever say I’m not an over-achiever. (Ok, truth, I’m a big planner but not so good on the follow-througher part.) I like to make my goals before Thanksgiving every year. It gives me something to assess when I hit the February doledrums. My goals for the next year aren’t big. I want to downhill ski more this winter. (Do you think 18 months is too young to learn to downhill?) I want to fly fish more in the coming year. I want to have all my holiday stuff done early in December so I can enjoy the season (don’t laugh… I actually manage this most years.) I want to get pregnant. I want to de-clutter & simplify my office. I want to take more pictures. I want to remodel our house (ok, that isn’t in the next year but I thought I’d throw that out there in case anyone has some brilliant ideas….).

So, what was the point of this post again? Damn, I can’t remember. Ok, add that to the goals: Remember to take ginko biloba memory aid. I just keep forgetting.

7 comments:

M&Co. said...

So who did you kill that deserved it?

McSwain said...

Just a thought--I grew up in "Whites & Indians" country, too. Interestingly enough, while there was no diversity, there also was very little racial hatred or strife in our midst. People who were "haters" had no reason to run around voicing their opinions. Mind you I'm NOT saying segregated society is good, and I'm well aware of the all-white enclaves in the Northwest in particular where hate is actively taught, but... in your average small town that's just not integrated yet, you can teach your child a lot in the absense of haters. Did I ramble? Sorry...

Nobody special said...

The song you are looking for is "Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes" or something like that. Fun blog. :)

Juggling Mother said...

mmm, I'm sure I nposted a comment yeaterday. Do you know where it went?

it said something like:

I don't ahve any regrets, everything I hav ever done has contributed towards making me me, and if I changed something, who knows what knock-on effect that might have? That's not to say that if i was put in exactly the same position again I wouldn't do things differently:-)

Remorse should be reserved for when you maim or kill someone "who doesn't deserve it"? Who does deserve to be maimed or killed?

Mary P. said...

I was called "conceited" when I was in high school because I was the only teenage girl in the entire city (probably the entire province) who didn't spend long hours obsessing on this or that imperfection in my body. If that made me conceited, then your appreciation of the good things in you life does indeed make you smug.

I prefer to think of people like us as counter-cultural mavericks. Smug on, sister!

mrtl said...

"lack of exposure to variety" - I'm going to remember that one.

Woman, you are an overachiever, aren't you? This is end-of-the-year stuff, and you're all over it.

Homestead said...

Just for the record.... I haven't killed anyone and I can't really think of a reason someone would deserve to die... but you know me, I like to keep my options open.