Mini-Blog: Embracing...Holy Moly, is it Wednesday already?

I was thinking that it was about time to update my blog (Thanks again for joining us, Carrie!!). And then I realized that it's been almost a week. What happened to the last five days of my life?

I feel as though I've been in a fog or something for the past few days, going through the motions and not really registering anything. The strangest thing is, there was no catalyst. I just went on autopilot last week and didn't even realize it. 

Très bizarre.

I think all of this interacting with zombie authors (authors who write about zombies, not authors who are zombies...then again...) is starting to rub off on me.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'm back among the living and should return to my regularly scheduled madness soon.

FIOS has arrived...

And that means that I should (please note the emphasis on "should") be able to renew my pledge to make this blog more than a passing fancy. I make no promises.

In case my prolonged absence had you scratching your noggins, let me ease your minds. I've been busy procuring an apartment (and all of the necessary accoutrement) with a long-time friend recently returned to the US of A after serving overseas. I hadn't seen her in years and suddenly we're living together. It's magnificent. And the place is really coming together, which always helps any transition.

But this new arrangement got me thinking about long-term (long-lasting)/long-distance relationships (of any kind) and why some succeed where others fail. I don't really know why this topic was the station my train of thought decided to break down at, but here I am. And I'm wondering: Is it really as simple as dedication (even one-sided dedication)?

If I were to compile two lists of my relationships (friends, romantic interests and even family), with one list containing the names of people who "made it" and the other a list of those who didn't, I believe the only thing the folks on the first list would have in common would be that one or both of us decided that we were going to make it work and stay in touch, and did. We may have had/have our up and down and periods of extended silence, but in the end an effort was/is made. The end.

I've run it over and over in my brain, and there was invariably a moment in each of my long-term and/or long-distance relationships when one of us made the effort to bug the other person into staying attached. Sadly, most of the time the driving force came from the other person...but that's a topic for a shrink's couch, not my blog.

My point is that my various familial and congenial relationships capable of withstanding the tests of time and space do not succeed because of some inherent trait somehow encoded into the relationship. The people who bothered to email, call or see me with some sort of regularity and sticktoitiveness are the ones with whom I've remained connected.

Am I the only one for whom this holds true? Does it matter?

In the end, I know that I have a network of people to whom I really matter and who really matter to me. What more could I ask for?

Then again, if effort is all it takes, why would any of my relationships fail?

Time is Money

I love America. The country is breathtakingly beautiful, and I appreciate the lifestyle and the security that being born and raised here has provided me. However, my time in Rome allowed me to gain a different perspective, and though I didn't come back home thinking that American culture needed a complete overhaul, there was one significant difference between the two cultures that really affected me, made me take pause, if you will.

Time.

I don't mean to say that the construct itself was different. Although, if you listen to Einstein... but that's another topic altogether. No, I'm referring to the way that the Romans treat time, and the way I felt about time while I was there.

I lived about a 15-20 minute walk away from my school and quite a distance from the Forum, the Colosseum, and all the other touristy landmarks that make Rome such a popular destination. My friends were spread out around the city, as well. Regularly, I would find myself walking for hours or waiting for buses that had no schedule. But, the important part of this story is that I would do it willingly and that I didn't care that things took so long, that there were practically no such things as schedules. I didn't care in the least.

In fact, I would laugh at tourists who complained and think not so kind thoughts about my fellow study abroad students who seemed to never get over their American obsession with time. For me, letting go of that particular hang up was the best part about my time in la Città Eterna. Well, maybe not the best, but it certainly ranked highly.

You see, I felt more productive, was more productive, while in Rome than ever before. Being a Type A, overachieving, people pleaser, I have been molded by my American upbringing to operate with the attitude that the more pressure I'm under, the more proverbial balls I am juggling, the better I'll perform. But, while that may be true, paradoxically, the same holds true of the opposite circumstance; I lead a happier, fuller, more productive life when there is no pressure, no time constraints, and just the right number of proverbial balls.

I bring this up, because, as you know, I have been job hunting for the past two weeks. Recently, an entire day was ruined for me due to the fact that I'd had to invest a large chuck of time in jumping through hoops to get a position with a temp agency. It was successful, and in about an hour, I will be leaving for my first temp position secured for me by them.

However, my day was ruined because of the fact that I felt my time had been devalued. I groused and pouted and was in a particularly rotten mood for the simple fact that I had been kept waiting. Time is money, I told myself, and since you're not worth anything right now, no one values your time. Boy, did that rub me the wrong way. And, all my friends agreed.

Looking back on it now, I realize that had that experience taken place in Rome I wouldn't have thought twice about it, especially considering the fact that I didn't have anything else to do that day. Did I forget to mention that? Well, I didn't. My day was completely free, and still, I was insulted. Time is money.

That's my problem with American society - that phrase, that ideology. If that much value is placed on time, if it is used as a means of demonstrating respect, then people necessarily become more apt to throw tantrums when their time is devalued, when things don't go the way they planned. And that makes for a nation full of tempestuous toddlers running around in grown up bodies. I should know; I'm one of them.