Springtime Ramblings

Posted under Coffee, Creativity, Seasons, Slackers Anonymous, The Guts Of Me, Writing by Sarah

Today was supposed to be a study-and-do-laundry day, but it’s turned into a be-emotional-and-cry-too-much day, so I’m taking advantage of the inspiration accrued from heightened feelings to share some thoughts with my blog-o-sphere.

Lately, I’ve been sharing most of my great ideas, my daily happenings, my rants, my inspirations, and my emotions with my stellar boyfriend Johnathan, and dividing my time between him, school, and work, plus  snatches of time for family and band; there hasn’t been enough time or energy to overflow to this site. Reality is, that’s not likely to change anytime soon, but perhaps Facebook could eat up a bit less of my time and A Transparent Life could have more!

Blogging is something I really enjoy. It’s something I want to do every day, all the time, and do a great job of it. I want my blog to be inspiring and enlightening, thought-provoking and entertaining. Blogging is also something that will help me hone my writing skills to prepare for the day I get my dream job as a columnist of some variety. Would you read my column?

Oh yeah, I guess I haven’t followed up about that stellar boyfriend of mine since I posted that vague but entertaining interview with myself, months ago! Sorry about that! Suffice it to say I got so caught up in all that fuzzy new relationship stuff that you mattered a little less to me–for a while. Please accept my apology for neglecting you!

So what you really want to know is: a) YES, I have a boyfriend!; b) It’s great! c) We’re serious; d) I like him a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!! e) I’m very happy. :) 

All the mushy things that you can imagine can be added here, as well as all of the usual relationship ups and downs–I’m finding that they’re all valuable experiences, and we care for each other even more when we get through something. That surprises me! It’s amazing to have someone so close to you who cares so much about you that sometimes you just want to shake your head in disbelief and say in your most skeptical voice, “Have you met me?” because you assume if they have, they couldn’t possibly want to stick around. But they do, again and again! Bizarre and awe-inspiring!

Are you feeling nauseated yet? ‘Cause I am. Kidding!! I’m living it!

More on romance and all that gushy stuff later, I promise. For now, I’m out, because I have to email a friend, and finish watching an episode of NCIS LA and look out my window at the springtime sunshine and oh–study for my last exam of the year!

Sarah out.

Going Down in History

Posted under Books, Writing by Sarah

When they write about me in history books, what will they say? I was reading about a French political philosopher and author in one of my textbooks last night, and, in the margin of my notebook, found myself writing:

Sarah Koopmans (1981 - ?)

Canadian religious and social philosopher and author

Can’t you just see it? A couple hundred years from now, if I make enough waves during my lifetime, and my existence is significant enough to mention in some kind of history book, I imagine that’s not far from how it might appear.

Like me, when you think “philosopher”, Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato come to mind; perhaps I am not easily compared to the ancient toga-wearers, but when I read this description of philosophy, there is much that I identify with:

Philosophy is defined as: The study of general and fundamental problems concerning matters such as existence, knowledge, values, reason, mind, and language; the pursuit of wisdom, a search for a general understanding of values and reality by chiefly speculative rather than observational means, an analysis of the grounds of and concepts expressing fundamental beliefs.

A philosopher is, then, someone who seeks wisdom and enlightenment; a person who seeks reason and truth by thinking and meditation.

This thing that I do, this blog, is my journal of observations as I study humanity. Someday, hopefully, I’ll graduate to a more formal outlet for my ideas and findings, but lucky you to have known me when–!

A Day in My Life, June 2008

Posted under Beauty, Books, Church, Clothes, Coffee, Creativity, Culture, Family, GrownUpVille, Idiosyncraticness, Lessons, Life, Longings, Mom, Money, Music, Nature, News, Seasons, Serverdom, Singing, Society, Technology, The Guts Of Me, Trixie the Toyota, Waitressing, Writing, Yummies by Sarah

I had a sudden desire today to chronicle and compare the different stages of my life, as I look back and notice that my life in June 2008 is remarkable different from that of June 2007, June 2006, June 2005, and so on.

I invite you to be a witness on this journey.

June 2008 finds me 27 years old, living in a two-bedroom second-floor apartment in the only apartment building in a tiny town in East Huron County called Brucefield. This town is known for it’s flashing light, yellow if you’re driving between Clinton and Exeter on Highway 4, or red if you’re coming from either Seaforth or Bayfield. There is one elementary school, one church, one drive-in restaurant, two mechanic shops, one Asian/Home Decor/B&B/Lunch Room location, and one fire station.

My apartment overlooks a cornfield, the view of which is mostly obstructed by a lovely birch tree. Said tree helps me feel more confident walking around in my apartment in less-than-decent clothing on summer nights. After all, who would be driving by slowly enough whose gaze could penetrate the birch branches in the split second I happen to be passing through my dining room, several feet from my beautiful picture window?

I enjoy living alone, though sometimes I do wish someone was there to care whether I came in or not, or to wonder where I was, or to motivate me to do dishes, finally! My neighbours are understanding and quiet, the area is safe, and I actually have a place to call home. MY home. I’ve immensely enjoyed painting and decorating my apartment, putting all of my good taste to good use in a place where I’m the boss, now and forever.

Another addition to my life is that of Trixie the Toyota, a pretty, dark-green 1997 4Runner who goes with me everywhere I go. She hauls the accoutrements of my life and hobbies without complaint. She has survived being rolled over in the ditch after skidding out on an icy country road, being hit-and-run by some unknown person, a not-so-successful attempt at backing up a trailer, and carrying some of my more treasured furniture.

Not so enjoyable are the bills that go with being established and mobile, namely cell phone, rent, insurance, hydro, phone/internet, groceries, gas, repairs, etc. I can’t say as I ever yearned for that part of nesting, but I take it in stride, usually. I’ll be much happier when I can finally get my tax returns done (for the past 2 years), pay off my credit card, and have money set aside for winter tires.

I have spent more than a year at the same job, as a server at The Brew’n Arms English pub and restaurant in Bayfield, Ontario. Earlier this year, I graduated to keyholder and Dining Room Manager, as well as Kitchen Painter and Orchid-Caretaker extraordinaire. My bosses are wonderful people who have become friends and family, as well as the most understanding and flexible supervisors anyone could ask for. They make me want to stay and do my best for them, for their business, for their town.

Last year at this time, I was also working as a drywaller, and, shocker! I don’t miss it a tiny bit. I do enjoy my refined house-painting skills, which I have recently put to good use in a “cottage” in Bayfield, and hope to expand as a second job. If you hear of someone looking to hire a house painter, give them my number!

I’m not attending church because I couldn’t handle the one I had called “home” for years. I’m generally fed up with the institution that is what church has become, with all its expectations and traditions and legalism. I would enjoy a faith-based community of believers that is honest and open, a group that can laugh and be reverent in an informal way. I really could expand this paragraph to a whole essay, but suffice it to say that I have not encountered such a community, but I still seek to hold onto my beliefs. I am discovering more of what life is like on “the other side” (outside the Christian bubble), and it’s very educational, despite occasionally dangerous.

If it were possible to live on coffee, I’d do it.

I’ve joined the wonderful realm of BlackBerry, as I once dreamed of doing. And I’m paying for it, too.

Writing is still my best communication method.

I rarely see earlier than 10 AM, or close my eyes earlier than 1 or 2 AM. I’d like to change that.

The music in my life has developed over the past year as well. I am the youngest voice of the all-female cover band, Cactus Jam, and I love it, despite playing mostly Legions. I was also privileged enough to be part of Noted!, a project sponsored by the United Way in my county, which is helping to boost the music careers of the 17 women chosen to participate. We got to record 14 tracks in a professional studio, and a great-sounding CD is the result. This past winter I also ventured out to sing a few times at Open Mic nights at a local pub, and have been the featured soloist at two church events.

This year finds me recently motherless, a drastic blight on anyone’s life, and definitely on mine. It has changed so many things and finally propelled me into nesting in the first place. It also made my brother and I guardians of our youngest brother and launched me further into the land of disabled children in Ontario. I now have a lawyer, communicate regularly with several case workers, get all kinds of official mail, and have to return junk mail still addressed to Mom.

June 2008 also finds me blonde, and with an even greater fashion sense. I love that about growing older! I predict I’ll still be stylish in my 80s. If I’m not, remind me of now.

I’ve discovered I love flowers and plants, doing the Toronto Saturday Star crossword, Pinot Grigio and Shiraz, premium beer, CBC Radio, brie on melba rounds with semi-dried tomatoes in duck confit, Dollarama’s plain candles, serving dessert, mom’s old couch and armchair (with my apartment’s decor built around them), C&E used furniture in Goderich, Americanos from The Bean, and living in Huron County!!! (Sorry, but that deserved more than three exclamation points)
Being Sarah Elizabeth takes different shapes all the time, and I’m enjoying the process. Here’s to another year!

We’re Back!

Posted under Writing by Sarah

By a stroke of… something, I had a miraculous MSN Messenger encounter with the woman who designed this blog site this morning. This design has been in progress now for, well, too long, and I honestly thought I’d lost it and my domain name, that’s how long it had been since I had heard from the designer.

However, happy-as-a-clam-I-am because HERE IT IS! And it’s BEAUTIFUL, if I do say so myself.

So. Do come back and have fun! There are millions of words in the English language, and endless combinations of them, and SO many more for me to discover right here!

(And thank you, Auntie Pea!)

I am a Fly

Posted under Love, Poetry, The Guts Of Me, Writing by Sarah

A discussion with a friend tonight led me to dig up something I wrote ages, or at least six years, ago, that I think merits sharing:

They say that love will happen when you least expect it… but how could it possibly strike me unawares when I am constantly looking for it, ever watching for its arrival? All receptors are on full alert, technicians ready to receive and store incriminating data. I am a satellite registering and measuring love’s radiowaves. I am a fly, with huge, magnifying eyes, able to see an approach from any direction. I constantly change position, leaving no area unsearched, no rock unturned in my search for love. How, thus, could it find me unawares?

And yet, I know it must.

So Not Okay

Posted under Family, Friends, Life, The Guts Of Me, Writing by Sarah

Using the words I hear so often as I make my way through the seasons of The West Wing, I would like to issue a statement. Guess that makes you the press.

Despite the recent silence on this end of ATransparentLife.com, life has been anything but uneventful for me. The events include an eight-hour road trip to Ohio for the wedding of a friend, which became a mini YWAM Monterrey reunion; witnessing Remembrance Day ceremonies on television for the first time in a long time; getting two winter coats for $70; living through the first snowfall of the season; oh, and moving back into my mom’s house, which I will be doing later today (it’s 1:13 AM).

Which brings me to my point: I’m so not okay. So not okay with moving back in with my mom, so not okay with being the oldest, so not okay with Mom being single, so not okay with how my family sucks at communication, so not okay with being weak yet neither am I okay with any I-Gotta-Be-The-Strongest-Cause-I’m-The-Oldest philosophy, and, for those of you wannabe therapists out there, so not okay with you trying to fix me.

I’m gonna spill my guts some more before this is over, but pretty please, do me a favour and don’t use the comments section, which I should probably close if I was using my better, more cowardly judgment, to try out your quacking skills. Just listen and know the pain.

In the past couple of weeks, I was shocked to learn through late-night Facebook messages from a good friend that Mom had called her twice in the same week because she couldn’t get off the couch and none of her children were there to help her. Not getting off the couch meant she couldn’t get to the bathroom nor could she feed herself. As a side effect of the steroids they put her on to combat the aggressive symptoms of brain cancer (double vision, migraines, etc.), she is very weak. She spends most of her time sleeping and has little appetite, as a result of the new and more powerful drug she is taking to target the cancer in her liver.

Mom now has a hospital bed on the first floor, a cane, daily homecare, someone to help her shower, and a rotating schedule which delegates her children certain days of the week to be on call and to help get her supper and get her to bed, as well as certain jobs around the house.

I really want to finish this while I’m on an early-morning roll, but my body is so not okay with staying up any longer. I’ll try to jump on this wave again later today once I’m back in Highspeedlandia. Ciao.

~~~~~~

I’m back on an early-morning roll, just three days later. I now come to you live courtesy of a brand-spankin’-new Belkin Wireless G Router. What is life without the ability to communicate globally simply floating through the air? Still haven’t had a chance to properly unpack everything, perhaps because this room is simply so dang small!

Basically the deal with my mom is she’s not doing well right now and what if she doesn’t get better? So we (my siblings and I) are supposed to be diving into every moment as if she only has a handful left. I want to dive onto the nearest plane headed for anywhere but here.

Someone wrote me today about their own experience caring for their sick mother and about how they resented her for being sick. I think that’s part of what I feel. After all, moms are supposed to be strong and run their own households! A good friend told me she just didn’t get why I wouldn’t want to be at home and close by, at my mother’s beck and call. Talking about it made me feel as if I have really deep, sick issues. I definitely don’t have a better explanation for wanting to run farther away from rather than closer to. Something, sometime, happened to screw with my head, I guess, which is influencing my current emotions.

I’m taking my time about being emotional and angry and exploring the depths of that. I’m pushing the limits of being “weak” and, again, emotional in ways I’ve never allowed myself to, ever. Hopefully it gets worse before it gets better?

I will eventually talk to someone, the right person, but I doubt it’s going to be you, at least not concerning this topic, blogs on this site excepted (to spell it out for you, you’ll have to come here for the dish or go hungry). So please, just pray for me and us all and send food to my mom’s house if you can.

Thanks for the Shout-Out

Posted under Shout-Outs, Writing by Sarah

Maile of Daily Relish wrote the following about A Transparent Life :

If she likes us, then she must be cool, too, so don’t be snobby… check out her site!

The Turkey, The Tension, and the Giving of Thanks

Posted under Discipline, Family, Ranting, Seasons, Writing by Sarah

It’s 1:17 AM and I should really be sleeping. It’s been too many late nights and too many mornings hauling my behind out of bed while feeling like I’m being irresponsible and/or missing something important. I hate that feeling. Still, I had this great blog title in my mind, and the conviction that I should be writing more, and that I should discipline myself to write at least a little something every day if I’m gonna be serious about this blog and about the whole writing thing.

Yes, I’m rambling (settle in, folks).

Today (well, yesterday, technically) was our Thanksgiving celebration. We held it at my brother’s house, the one that’s married, and one of my mom’s sisters and her family joined us: something we’ve never done before. Auntie and Uncle have five kids, three married and the other two with significant others. All were there but one sibling and her husband (and their two sons). We are six plus one wife and one significant other. All of us were there but one sibling.

Auntie and Mommy both have cancer and aren’t in the best of health these days, and decided they weren’t going to be cooking or hosting, which was fine with us because we have a sibling who is married with a cool house in a different town and three gorgeous little daughters to distract us from ourselves.

I started the day later than I’d have liked, missed what would have been a fun and refreshing walk with the friends I live with, and got to my mom’s house to pick her and little bro PK up to head to big bro SK’s house. PK was still in bed because, well, he’s eighteen and Tegan and Sara were playing last night in London. Nuff said. Mom had been up for hours and was ready and waiting for her sleepyhead children to pack up the stuff she was responsible for and get their butts in the car. PK was annoyed at being summoned from his slumber, Mom was annoyed at our tardiness, and I was wondering if that was gonna be the tone of the day.

Thanks to the novelty of having ten relatives, a sibling’s girlfriend, the youngest brother we rarely see, his worker, and three nieces in attendance, not to mention some great food (yes, and wine), it wasn’t. I made up for my earlier lack of responsibility in having neglected to get up in time to make my usual rolls and cranberry sauce by making other rolls and buying canned cranberry sauce, and then by generally making sure the whole food train was running on schedule. And by looking cute, if I do say so myself.

There was a general sense of gratitude that we were able to be together for the special occasion, especially right before we ate, when we took a few moments to poll each other for things we were grateful for. A few of us became teary-eyed when some talked about how we need to make family time precious these days, and especially when one of the cousins’ girlfriend shared her thanks to my mom for giving her hope.

Several hours, laughs, and food courses later, it was time for the mother and the little brother and I to head out, away from the convenient distractions, into our car with just the three of us, on the road for forty-five minutes. That is, we finally pulled out of the driveway about twenty minutes after I took the initiative to announce (because Mom was out of energy for the day) that we were leaving, and started to make preparations for it, including having PK take the food containers out to the car. I stood around for a while in the general vicinity of the door, waiting, waiting. Then I made the rounds of good-byes, hoping to further signify that our time was indeed up, following which I stood at the door some more, with my bags (yes, there were two) over my shoulder.

Mom got up: finally! A motion in the right direction! She moved to the bathroom. So I stood for another few minutes as she did her business and began her farewells. I then announced my next step: leaving the house to approach the car (insert fanfare here). Before I left, PK got up from the couch to which he’d returned after loading the car, and headed to the throne room for his turn (have I mentioned it’s only a forty-five minute drive?), following which I assumed he’d head outside. I put my stuff in the car, arranged some things in the back seat, and was just getting into mine as Mom came out. Perfect timing! Then we turned the car on, ready to drive away as soon as PK came out. What seemed like ten minutes later but was probably only one, Mom suggested we turn off the car. I didn’t want to because it felt like enabling, but I did because I pay for the gas.

Still we waited. Had I not just stood inside the room waiting for, well, a while before leaving the house, then waited in the car for what seemed like too long, and had I known that Guy Cousin Number One was doing something special for my mom, the patience would have lasted longer. As it was (as I perceived it, anyway), the logical expiration of my patience had come and gone, so I stormed the castle. I met my opponent just past the drawbridge, looking for his shoes, and we had words that might have been in Greek for all he understood them. Big, Bad Bitch (or B—h if seeing all the letters offends you) strikes again!

It’s 2:00 AM right now. Just wanted you to know that. And you can feel free to take the blame!

Ahh familiar familial tension and how it just makes me want to run, run, run in the other direction. For the record, I didn’t ask for my personality or my birth order, and I’m willing to trade if anyone has something cooler to offer.

Not being able to swerve to miss hitting a skunk after only a few minutes on the road went a little way towards alleviating the tension, but I have to say I didn’t finish the day on as grateful a note as I would have hoped. It’s a good thing my passengers were both sleep-deprived: I got time to cool down.

Turns out the things that I listed as being the most grateful for I really truly am: my new (fake) glasses, wine, and my Uncle for bringing the wine, but mostly for being immune to all the family crap. Cheers, Unc! And Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Of Blogtherapy and Gradual Transparency

Posted under Dooce, Transparency, Writing by Sarah

Right now, sitting in a big old house where I live with friends who are away, on an overcast day in the middle of the country, just over one week after a breakup and a couple of weeks of out-of-the-ordinary events, without food or coffee in my belly, and desperate for a haircut, it seemed like a great moment to tell the world that I find solace in this blog. When I get the chance to string words together here, I feel like I’ve come home.

Many of my readers have commented that they enjoy my writing style and some have suggested that I write a column for a magazine or newspaper. I shouldn’t have to tell you that I love getting feedback like that: YES!! Mission accomplished! And I would LOVE writing a column. If you have a lead on any such opportunities, please pass them on!

More and more I think that writing is one of the things I was born to do. I can write much better than I can speak. I submit the fact that I don’t have formal training, and I don’t know the specific rules of journalism, but I was born in the era of blogging, when even the formal media is being affected by what private individuals are writing.

I also often get feedback expressing surprise about how transparent I am on this site, but I have to confess that I wish I felt free to be more unreserved. There are topics I’d like to tap into, stuff I’d like to air, but I admit fear is holding me back. I know that my mother and my siblings and my best friends and ex-boyfriends and other relatives and former leaders and coworkers and people that respect me are reading this blog, and I’m afraid of a) shocking them, b) losing their respect, or c) making them think I’ve lost faith.

Dooce is one of my blogging heroes. She is ballsy, witty, and has an uncanny ability to twist any seemingly ordinary situation into something hilarious. Her way with adjectives and comparisons is awe-inspiring, though inevitably some of you would find her offensive. This woman’s possibly uber-transparent blog got her fired, but several years later, she gets paid to blog! Both her and her husband are now able to live off of the ads posted on her site.

Sure, it would be cool to get paid to blog, but my point is that I’d like to become more transparent about topics which may be uncomfortable to my peeps. I might go into stuff you didn’t want to know about me, or stuff which might cause you to lose respect somehow. I apologize in advance if I ever offend anyone. It is never my goal to offend, but always my goal to boldly be real about my particular human experience, and I’m honestly kind of sick of glazing over some of the more “juicy” stuff.

Do I have the nerve? I’m not sure, but I’m gonna follow my instincts step by step and we’ll find out together!

Meanwhile, have I mentioned that I love writing this blog and I love that you’re reading it right now? Bring over some friends and let’s get this party started!

Catering

Posted under Church, Idiosyncraticness, Life, Writing by Sarah

Writing stuff that’s going to be read by everyone from your grandmother to the kids in the youth group where you’re a leader to some guy you met once to your former boss is complicated. It really is. Not joking with you there.

Do I go with slightly funny or can I possibly launch into mocking Canadians, Mexicans, Hawaiians, the Dutch, or those from the H.C. (Huron County, where I currently live), because I know all those people groups well and I can do it? But one of them might be offended, eh! I’m thirsty (translation: it’s 2:58 pm. translation: coffee time)!

Should I stay away from mocking church and its tribal nuances, as Drew Marshall so eloquently put it, because some of my readers think church is the best thing, like, ever, hallelujah, amen?! Or will there be enough church-goers (I’m one of them, I guess I’ll admit) that can laugh at themselves to make it worth the risk?

Can I swear (because I’m okay with that every now and then, when it’s appropriate)? Or should I be concerned about what Mr. Board Member might think of me should he happen to hear about this website and come over to read this exact post? Might I get “fired” from being a youth group leader if I say “what the hell” instead of “what the heck”? Even though we all know “heck” is a substitute?

There are things I’d like to write about that I don’t want to expose while living in my hometown, where people that have known me for years (and know that I consider myself a “missionary”, which means I’m holier than everyone else, obviously) can look me in the eye and stare in shock. In that one restaurant that everyone goes to for brunch. I’d like to talk about my church, but not when I live two blocks away and my next-door and 9-door-down neighbours attend there, too. They might hear about this website, and then they’ll look at me differently, you know they will! You just can’t escape gossip in a town of 7500, although I must say it seems to be better than living in CLA-n, town of closer to 3000 with one main corner in the centre of it.

I also wonder if those people who get the being-online-24/7 thing (they’re the ones who get “24/7″, too) and know what blogs are actually want to read my stuff if it’s longer than a few lines and doesn’t include pictures? If I don’t make references to rap or raves, and if I don’t say motherf****** at least once every 30 seconds, will they understand me?

Like I said, complicated. I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could just write whatever I felt like, whenever. One of these days, I’m gonna write a tell-all book and then it will be too late for me, wherever I live, but I feel much better about that somehow. It’s as if getting published in print adds an air of legitimacy to would-be scandal, whereas publishing your own subjective words online is suspiciously subversive.

I strangely want people to know that I AM scandalously and suspiciously subversive, but I want them to figure it out without my telling them face-to-face. Because that would just be awkward. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned growing up in a small town, it’s that when things get awkward, either get drunk, or get outta there!