It’s My PMS and I’ll Complain if I Want To

Posted under Life, Ranting by Sarah

That’s right. PMS!!!! Be afraid. Be very afraid! Run far and don’t stop until there are no thundering footfalls behind you or huffy voices ringing in your ear. If there’s a hint of a whine in any voice, tune it out. Come back in a week–I promise all will be well.

If only there were a way to put a ban on PMS. “Warning: All Pre-Menstrual Syndrome symptoms are hereby prohibited from approaching any female body in the country of ________. Violators will be electrically shocked, then incinerated. Females suspecting PMS attacks may use whatever means necessary to defend themselves.“

Or maybe some sort of internal system that warns anyone about to have a conversation with a PMS-prone woman, “Please be advised: This woman is subject to hormonal circumstances beyond her control and is not entirely sane at this time. We advise you to either send her an email or try again in a week. Thanks for your cooperation.“

Why must raging hormones translate into raging emotions? Why must the natural and otherwise relatively quiet process of eggs being transported out of our ovaries, then flushed out of our uteruses be accompanied by so much ANGST?! Angst that not only makes us our own enemies, but lashes out to attack everyone around us, too, except maybe that hot delivery guy at our door. Him, we adore! Where was I?

If I’m PMS-ing, I don’t like to be surprised. The audacity of you to not think about giving me notice! If I’m PMS-ing, it’s always your fault, until I realize I’m PMS-ing. Then I’m too embarrassed to admit to it. Why, oh WHY can’t I control. These. HORMONES?

There’s a pill for everything else–why isn’t there a pill to cancel the effects of PMS? Or is it kept on the down-low, away from us “small-timers” (that’s what they think)?

Am I ranting? Sorry. Internal warning device must be defective. Sanity will return in a week. I promise.

On Demand: Proof of My Craftiness

Posted under Creativity by Sarah

The photos haven’t been edited, so please ignore the background. I’ve been asked for some pics a few times, so here ya go! Unless otherwise stated, these cards are made of 6″ squre cardstock. The larger sized ones are part of a collection I made for my cousin’s store. When I get the pictures of the rest of them, I’ll post them. Meanwhile, you can purchase some of my cards at sarahnadian.etsy.com. Enjoy!

This is a mini card, and below is a collection of several. They’re 2″ x 2″.

Above: Another mini.

Jimified, I Am

Posted under Idiosyncraticness, Jimi, Life, Love by Sarah

Today was mostly spent fighting coxxys pain in a Buick LeSabre, going 85 miles per hour on I-69 N (for the anatomically illiterate, “coxxys” means “tail bone”). Yes, my NBS (Numb Bum Syndrome) is back in fully aggravating force (read history here), and I’m starting to hypochondriacally research possible (actual medical) conditions. Ack!

But that’s not what I’m here to write about. I was driving for several hours on I-69 because it was the end of my long and prodigious weekend in Indianapolis with Jimi (My Cyber Boyfriend). He’s whom I’m here to write about tonight.

This is one of those moments when I wonder what he’ll think of what I’m about to write, and what my family will think, and what my friends will think, and what his family will think, and what his friends will think, and you get the picture. Not that it’s a big deal, just that when one is being transparent on the Internet, one needs to consider such things so as to offend no one nor disclose inappropriate information. Again, not that I believe I’ll be offending anyone, nor do I plan on disclosing inappropriate information. This post is not that kind of juicy!

I once said to Jimi that I hope to be able to show the world glimpses of the deep and introspective, the sensitive and well-rounded sides of him that few get to see or appreciate and many would never assume from his often outrageous behaviour.

One of the unfortunate things about having a long-distance relationship that has been built mostly through online communication is that it is difficult to convey one’s true emotions. I’ve tried “emoticons”and “smileys”, but they are mostly just silly and shallow and fall very short of what I’m really feeling. All this to say that, when I get to spend rare and coveted “in-person” time with my man, stuff that may have aggravated or confused me as a result of chatting through IM takes shape, finds balance, and adds another facet to the intriguing man that is Jimi. An intriguing man that I fall more in love with via every interaction.

As we lounged on a hawaiian-patterned blanket on a grassy knoll in a quaint park yesterday afternoon, soaking up the sun’s rays and grazing on each other’s company, my heart was basking in contentedness. The intimacy of sharing a few lazy hours doing absolutely nothing but talking and laughing and cuddling with Jimi intensified a growing awareness that my heart has never been so at home.

He is someone I can easily and confidently trust, laugh with, laugh at, cry with, be angry at, make up (and out, heehee) with, be quiet with, talk about God and the world with, learn with,
grow with, shop with, eat with, work hard with, be lazy with, be broken with, and you get the point by now I hope.

He is not intimidated by my neediness: he is eager to redeem it through loving me (that’s the simple explanation). He doesn’t always do what I might expect: he surprises me by going above and beyond, with my happiness and well-being in mind. He doesn’t play into my (occasional?!) manipulative whims: he tell me straight up how it is, firmly and tenderly.

Like me, he can be cynical and sarcastic; enjoys a wide range of music; hates religiosity and legalism; enjoys digging deeper into truth, God and life; is comfortable talking about “taboo” subjects; loves technology; is aware of pop culture trends; has opinions about fashion; and likes to cook.

Unlike me, he can be uber-realistic where I like to be somewhat more idealistic. He plans for a year from now whereas I plan for this week. He thinks I should get a pair of white pants or shorts, but I’m a little skeptical. He takes every opportunity to shock people, but I like to work up to it. He brushes his teeth once a day and hasn’t been to the dentist since fourth grade; I’ve had over 25 cavities filled since sixth grade and can’t leave the house or go to bed without brushing my teeth.

He is Jimi. When we talk about other guys in my life, the simple truth always emerges: they’re not Jimi enough! He is Jimi, and he’s my Jimi, and I love him, and this is the beginning of my promise to tell the world of the greatness that is Jimi.

Something new on my Other Blog

Posted under MuSiNgS by Sarah

Check out a new MuSiNgS, called Faith: Springs or Bricks, inspired by Rob Bell’s book, Velvet Elvis, over on my musings.atransparentlife.com page.

The Crazy is Me!

Posted under Idiosyncraticness, Life, Money, Ranting by Sarah

If you’ve found yourself wondering if your life would ever turn itself around into something you actually enjoy, you might be able to identify with me right now. This is one of those times in which I really do think I have issues that need professional help.

I feel trapped in a place I don’t really want to live, without the resources or the timeline to look for something else (but, deep down, thankful to not have to pay rent).

This is the first phase in my life in which I’ve really needed to win my own bread, but the things that I love doing (writing, singing, crafting) aren’t making me any money and I’m not sure how to turn that around, especially without formal training or experience or anyone jumping on my bandwagon to help me. And I’ve never had to put much effort into finding a job–they’ve always come to me. I don’t want to believe that getting a decent job requires working my butt off, but I’m getting the feeling that I’m delusional in other areas, so perhaps I am in this one, too.

I’ve been discouraged by the attempts I’ve made to make and sell crafty stuff, even with the addition of a “shop” at Etsy.com. I think my cards are cool, but they’ve landed with a resounding thud on the bottom of the Internet’s creative pile, apparently.

I was at first really excited about my potential for making some money with articles at Helium. com, but in three months, several articles haven’t even made me a dollar. A writing contest offering from $5 to a few hundred dollars to the author with the best ratings seemed like a great idea, one that I could enjoy putting effort into. Little did I know that there are people out there with NOTHING BETTER TO DO BUT SIT ON THE INTERNET AND MAKE UP STUFF FOR EACH AND EVERY CATEGORY, thus guaranteeing them a spot in the running. Being someone who likes to write about stuff I actually am familiar with, and feeling the moral or perhaps only anal retentive urge to write a quality piece, spinning off a few words (and making them sound like I know what I’m talking about) under every category is just not gonna work for me.

Maybe it’s blind arrogance that makes me think I may have skills worthy of the public, but I still think I do. I regularly see CD jackets, publications, articles, etc. that people are getting paid for but which even my untrained eye can plainly see are subpar and I, yes, I, Sarah Koopmans, could improve upon them, but are they hiring me, the one with the skill sitting around, waiting to be asked? OF COURSE NOT!

Perhaps I shouldn’t be posting momentary delusions on this site–I could be destroying my (however false) reputation for levelheadedness and maturity–but, if I’m going to be transparent, I need to be able to write blogs that aren’t balanced and sane, so I’ll take my chances. After all, these posts are juicy, and everyone knows that juicy-ness (and sex) is what keeps people interested. Tune in next time for my take on why women avoid sex, and what to do about it. There you have it: juicy-ness, sex, gunmen, cat lovers, ranting, and God–there aren’t many places you can go to get a combination of all of that!

After all this ranting, I should add that I took a proactive step this afternoon that should make me more hire-able: I rented the Smart Serve training kit (Ontario’s way of training people to serve alcohol responsibly). I’m now out $30, so it had better pay off!!

I think I’d better end this rant before I have to cite my own blog as the cause of my depression.

Of Cat Lovers and Gunmen

Posted under Life, News by Sarah

As reported by Yahoo.com, there are crazies from coast to coast:

Bob and Betty Matas, 72 and 71, respectively, a couple from New York, decided to retire to northern Arizona. When the time came for them to pack up their belongings and head west, Bob & Betty couldn’t bear the thought of their two cats, Pretty Face and Cleopatra, being stuck in the cargo hold of a plane for several hours, so they caught a cab. After hailing a ride with him a few months earlier and joking about their upcoming trip, cabbie Douglas Guldeniz agreed to take the couple the 2500 miles to Arizona in his yellow hybrid Ford SUV, a fare that earned him $3000, plus gas, food, and accommodations. The cat-loving couple became somewhat famous on their journey, people approaching them at rest stops to ask, “Are you the ones?” They arrived today.

It’s not likely I’ll ever own a cat, but if on the off chance I do somehow obtain one, let me make it publicly clear, here and now, that, if I need to transport this cat, said feline will ride in the cargo hold of the plane. Not even a yellow hybrid SUV could tempt me. Not even if I’m 71, not even if I’m 101. My tailbone can’t handle prolonged sitting as it is! Can you imagine it five decades from now?

In other news, this morning, Monday, April 16th, 2007, a gunman started shooting people at Virginia Tech university. Before noon, he had killed 32 people, injured 26, and then proceeded to kill himself. This bloody incident has not only become the deadliest U.S. campus shooting, but also the deadliest mass shooting in United States history.

This is the shortest report of this bloodbath you’ll find online, I’m sure, but you get the point, and you can look it up for the details. I’m not gonna equate this shooting with being in the end times, though it may be true; or suggest we take a moment to think of the families affected, though I do wonder how it feels to go through that; I just want to point out that North America is a war zone, too. It’s awesome that causes are cool now, and great if you are personally doing something about war in Sudan, genocide in Darfur, or the sex slave trade in Indonesia; just don’t turn a blind eye to your neighbours. Don’t forget to be Christ to your coworker, the cashier at Wal-mart, the taxi driver, your family (hard one for me, I’ll admit).

In conclusion, we have the Black Eyed Peas to thank for this wisdom: “Crazy is what crazy do“.

Sunday Brunch

Posted under Idiosyncraticness, Jimi, Life, Money, Music, Yummies by Sarah

Will spring ever come to Huron County? I’m seeing pictures and hearing tales that spring has arrived to other places around North America but why the heck isn’t it showing its very welcome face around here? Unless, having been away for so many springs in a row, I forget what the coming of spring looks like. I’m expecting at least a little warmth… are you with me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last night I decided I wouldn’t do something I had wanted to do and something that could turn into a dream for me and something that others were encouraging me to do, something that I kinda feel chicken for not being brave enough to do. However, it’s a good decision. Not a decision I love, perhaps, but a wise one, my current circumstances considered. I’m hoping and praying for another chance, someday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m a mean cynic sometimes. Sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve had creator’s block lately (other than the envelopes and the desk thing from last post), if there is such a thing. If there isn’t, I’m establishing such a thing right now. Making 20 cards has taken me more than two weeks… I swear it’s not that I’ve been slacking, although, of course, I’m also known as Queen Procrastinator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I like complaining about Pepsi. I used to not care, but after living in Mexico, Coke-drinking capital of the world, where Coke is made with cane sugar instead of refined sugar, you learn to recognize it for its reigning greatness (that’s the product, not the company as a whole). Pepsi costs half as much in Mexico, and with good reason… its inferiority is blatantly obvious there! The difference between the world’s two top-selling colas is forever imprinted on my tastebuds, and a Pepsi fan I will never be.

If you serve me pizza or anything else that’s hot and greasy and you have neither Coke nor any suitable replacement, but you do have Pepsi, I’ll drink it–after complaining. Because I like people to know, you especially, that Coke is superior in taste. And I’m a cynic like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I need money. For the first time in my life, I’m feeling the crunch of needing to make my own money in order to pay necessary bills. And that’s without having any major ones! Seriously, jobs have pretty much just fallen into my lap in the past. Having to hand out resumes is intimidating!! I am learning to suck it up, however, much to Jimi’s relief

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My salvation might be in question. That’s right. I was in a bar on Friday night. Listening to my amazingly talented friend Nathan play secular songs! And I even sat down and stayed. For a few hours!

It gets worse: I had a beer. Yes, you saw correctly, I bought and drank one of those beverages fondly known as “cold ones”, the ones associated with bush parties, dancing, and devil worship.

God have mercy on my soul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have I mentioned that I’m a cynic? I’m told the Internet likes cynics. I think I’ll stick around for a while.

I’m a Creative Genius

Posted under Creativity, Idiosyncraticness, Jimi by Sarah

Occasionally, when met by a problem, if I’m motivated, I can come up with a viable solution. It might not be pretty or professional enough to earn me the cover of Martha Stewart Living or even Real Simple, but it accomplishes its purpose, if only temporarily.

Of course you know I’m leading up to something, which obviously is an account of how and why I think I qualify for the title of Creative Genius. I doubt Martha Stewart would agree, but just let me revel in my small-time problem-solving skills for a minute, okay? OKAY?

Now then, Exhibit A: Envelopes.

A few weeks ago, I started making cards. To sell. Previously, I had made cards that were 4″ by 6″, but for some reason, this time around, I decided I wanted to make square cards. 6″ x 6″ square, to be exact. I didn’t think anything strange about wanting to make 6″ square cards. I didn’t sit and wonder, “Does anyone else make 6″ square cards? If so, are there adequately-sized envelopes readily available?” Hindsight being 20/20, I now know that I should have sat and asked myself those very questions. After creating several designs and posting them on the Internet to sell here, it wasn’t until someone asked me to make 20 for them to sell in their store that I began to think seriously about envelopes. Can’t sell cards without envelopes. It’s just not done, not on this side of the world, anyway.

I started by looking online. I could get 6.25″ square envelopes–just not cheaply. So I expanded my search; to the local scrapbooking store. I found 6.25″ square envelopes–only they were made of vellum (shiny, transparent paper) and cost $1.40 apiece, or three times as much as the expensive regular paper ones I had found online. My other options were exactly 6″ square (meaning they’d be 0.25″ too small) or 7.5″ square (meaning my cards would be swimming in them, which is just not done when it comes to selling cards). I came to the conclusion that I would have to broaden my search even further: to the city I went. I went to a Michael’s. I went to a Staples. I went to a party supply store, another office supply store, a Giant Tiger (which now sells scrapbooking stuff, FYI), a Wal-Mart, and another scrapbooking store. All to absolutely no avail, and complete with some derisive body language on the part of one of the scrapbook store ladies, convincing me of my utter envelope ignorance. Commercial venues, you have failed me!

I was quite discouraged when I returned home from my forays envelope-less. When I bemoaned my failure to my boyfriend via AIM, his response was that I should make my own, duh! At first, I was defensive: “Do you know how to make envelopes? Do you know where to get the special glue that people can lick-and-stick later? Uh-huh, that’s what I thought!!” I didn’t get far before he put me out of my misery by suggesting that I seek the wisdom and assistance of The Almighty and Omniscient Google.

Lo and behold, I found this and this.

After the purchase of a ream of 8.5″ by 14″ paper (8.5″ by 11″ just wouldn’t be big enough, obviously) (thanks, Mom) and a significant amount of drawing and measuring and cutting, I created the only 6.25″ by 6.25″ envelopes to be had ’round these parts. And they are a pretty fine piece of work, if I do say so myself, all tapered and professional-looking! This is one of those instances in which I long for a digital camera that actually worked so I could show you what I mean. Guess you’ll just have to take my biased word for it.

For future reference: The time and effort needed to make envelopes from scratch aren’t worth it.
Note to self: Make cards that fit into envelopes that are readily available.

Exhibit B: My Desk

Like most desks, mine was meant to be used with a chair. For most people, this wouldn’t be cause for concern. Then again, most people don’t have tailbone issues quite like mine. Lately, it has gotten to the point where I’m only comfortable sitting for certain lengths of time, which are always varied, even if I’m switching from a stool to a chair to an exercise ball. I believe in the benefits of the latter, but it’s not a simple solution for my case. Not sitting isn’t an option, either: most things I do at home involve this common but apparently unnatural position (crafting, writing, eating, reading, etc.).

This afternoon, I decided I’d had my limit of prolonged sitting, at least for now, and I set out to find a solution. Being the frugal and impatient person that I am, I sought objects to prop up my existing desk instead of creating or buying a new one. One Rubbermaid container and one milk crate later, I have a standing-height desk instead of a sitting-height one.

After typing most of this post standing up at my renovated desk, now my back is complaining. It seems no solution will be fool-proof, but I’d like to believe that with the addition of a tall stool, and the options being to stand, sit or half-sit, half-stand, my bones and muscles will be much happier. (Again, sorry that I have no picture to show you)

Would you agree with my self-proclaimed verdict, that I’m a Creative Genius? Guess it doesn’t matter much, seeing that I’m convinced and I’m the one doing the writing here!

Happy (Christmas) Easter

Posted under Family, God, Life, Seasons by Sarah

When I was a kid and Easter Sunday felt like the first day of Spring, I loved sunrise services. I would carefully pick an outfit that looked as “Spring-y” as possible, which meant it was mostly yellow, green, pink, or white. I would be excited about wearing only a sweater over my dress instead of a winter coat.

To this day, the thought of greeting the sun on a warm-ish Easter Sunday morning evokes excitement. A day in which people are gathered in celebration, all over the world! A day full of surprises, bright colours, good food, and family.

This morning, what I’m excited about is seeing my neices this afternoon, and playing with them, albeit indoors. Salome bossing Jaida around, stealing books right out of her hand and asking Auntie Sarah to read them to her. Or grabbing my hand to lead me to her room, where I’ll sit listening to her jabber on and on about very amusing topics that are too advanced for Auntie Sarah to fully understand, duh. Then, of course, there will be another book to read. Then another, then another, then another, till I’ve read all of the books in their possession five times each. Jaida will happily toddle around with her recently discovered walking skills, charming us all with her smile and patient personality.

This morning is the fourth day of what I like to call Winter: Recharged. Snow has not stopped falling for four days straight, and there are no signs of it letting up! Needless to say, I didn’t hear of any sunrise services being planned for this, my first Easter at home in Canada in six years. Apparently I didn’t pray hard enough for snow at Christmas and sun at Easter, because the Big Weatherman In the Sky seems to have gotten them mixed up (no, not a slam against God’s abilities, but a joke; laugh with me now).

Happy Easter, anyway. May your day be filled with laughter and good food and cracked, dyed eggs leaving stains all around your house because the kids can’t hide them outdoors.

Article: A Story to Live By

Posted under Life, Quotes by Sarah

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister’s bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. “This,” he said, “is not a slip. This is lingerie.” He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached. “Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion. ” He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes that we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me. “Don’t ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you’re alive is a special occasion.”

I remembered those words throughout the funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California from the Midwestern town where my sister’s family lives. I thought about all the things that she had done without realizing that they were special.

I’m still thinking about his words, and they’ve changed my life. I’m reading more and dusting less. I’m sitting on the deck and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I’m spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savor, not endure. I’m trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I’m not “saving” anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event–such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. my theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without wincing. I’m not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my party-going friends’.

“Someday” and “one of these days” are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it’s worth seeing or hearing of doing, I want to see and hear and do it now. I ‘m not sure what my sister would have done had she known that she wouldn’t be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she would have called my family members and a few close friends. She might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food. I’m guessing–I’ll never know.

It’s those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom I was going to get in touch with–someday. Angry because I hadn’t written certain letters that I intended to write–one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn’t tell my husband and daughter often enough how much I truly love them. I’m trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives.

And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special.

Every day, every minute, every breath truly is… a gift from God.