Saturday, December 10, 2011

Take a Sad Song and Make it Better

Hey Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it better
Better, better, better, better, BETTER, oh!
Na na na, na-na na na
Na-na na na, hey Jude

Na na na, na-na na na

Na-na na na, hey Jude

In Roman Catholicism growing up, I learned that St. Jude is the Patron Saint of Desperate Cases. And whether The Beatles deliberately meant to associate their song with this Saint or not, I always want to link the two together.

December has arrived and I've been feeling a little down and out, and as much as I have trouble admitting it.....maybe a little desperate. Desperate because I took a major pay-cut, desperate because I don't have a home of my own anymore, desperate because all of my belongings are in storage in another state, desperate because my Kitty is living with my parents and not with me where he belongs, desperate because I don't have time to drive to NC to renew my expired car registration (and I can't just fly there- I need the actual car there.....NC DMV: please don't read this blog, by the way), desperate because I walked away from a developing relationship that was going incredibly well, desperate because I keep choosing to change my life- when maybe I just need to stay still for awhile. I indeed love my career and I've wanted to do this for quite some time, but lately I'm uncertain I was ready to pay the price that came with it. Simply put, I had to change careers, but I think I sacrificed some other important things in order to do so. Additionally, I have something called "ear block", so I was grounded for three days because it could cause permanent damage to my eardrums if I choose to fly. So tomorrow I am eligible to go back to work and I am grateful for that. But I still don't feel great- my immune system falls apart when I'm distressed. And I am not sure what to do to make it better.

Although when I created this blog three years ago, I never intended to complain, nor air my dirty laundry, I did want to feel comfortable sharing with you- my friends and readers- what is happening in my life. So without saying too much, I've got to admit I'm going through a rough patch. Although, I begin to feel this way every December. Then I start to make it better (better, BETTER!) in January after the holidays are over.

I just finished reading a book, James Patterson's Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas. It left me in tears every time I read a chapter, yet I couldn't put it down. The lasting lesson in Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas is the story of five balls. In it Life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. Every day you keep them all in the air. Then you come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls are made of glass. When dropped, they will probably shatter.

I think I let some important things shatter recently. I chose a career that I've always wanted to do, but I think this means I caused a developing relationship to become dangerously close to failing. I guess I just assumed that because I'd be able to fly to anywhere, anytime I want on my days off, I could just make any and every personal relationship in my life work. Maybe not. I am promising myself never ever again to choose career over anything else, especially relationships.

At this stage of my life I vacillate about whether I want children of my own, but I know for a fact I do want a life-partner. And an apartment of my own to share with that life-partner. I don't even care if we ever get married or not. But I do know I have a desperate need to feel needed. One of my friends posted on facebook recently that she watched a homeless man in the park share his baguette with the pigeons. I think this is a simple illustration of the very basic need of everyone to feel needed in some capacity.
Don't get me wrong- there are plenty of people who need me. Like my passengers on the plane. I pretend I'm throwing a grand party when I'm working. I welcome my guests and I serve my guests drinks and I stand at the door and say goodbye to my guests, as they deplane. I tell them to enjoy their vacations and I wish them happy honeymoons. I smile at the babies and wave to them as their parents carry them through the jet-way. I try to be kind to everyone, because I know how stressful flying can be. So if I just pretend I'm a hostess and I'm throwing a gigantic soiree, I feel as though I've accomplished something. That's why I love First Class so much. I put out my fine china and serve up my best meals and mix fancy cocktails and pour wine to the brim. And because the number of "guests" is so much fewer than main cabin, I have more time to flirt.....I mean .....more time to build a rapport with passengers.

And then I have my family and friends who (I would like to believe) need me too. Recently I visited my nephew Sergio, and I held him and taught him how to blow kisses. Look how sweet he is and how big he got. He turns 1 on December 30:
And I visited my friend Maura yesterday in Brooklyn and we took her baby Timmy for a 3 mile walk through her neighborhood in Bay Ridge:
Timmy is about 3 months older than Sergio. I like this age- they are fun and sweet babies. They smile and laugh and hug and cuddle in my lap at this age, but they like to play too. And I feel so needed. They reach up their little arms because they want to be held. And their mamas sometimes need a break.

So there goes- there's a happy note with which to end this very depressing, crappy blog.

Please send a Novena to St. Jude for me, a wish to the Universe, or simply good thoughts my way so I can take this sad song and make it better (Better, BETTER!) I would enjoy my own apartment in the city (it doesn't have to be big or fancy- a small Manhattan one-bedroom will do!) with my Kitty curled up in my lap and a life-partner for whom to prepare dinner and drinks when we both get home from work. And to wait for me with open arms when I get back from my trips. Is that really asking so much? I don't think it is. And by the way- he gets free trips with me whenever he wants, in First Class around the world, for crissakes.

Happy Holidays, Everyone. If you have any words of wisdom or thoughts for me, I am all ears *now that they are finally unblocked. I need you too.