Random Musings When it Amuses Me

My niece - a bouncing 9 lb baby girl - was born this morning!  Name is still to be announced…Mom and Dad are doing fine.  Mom is especially enjoying the morphine. 

I am an anxious bundle of sleepy nerves this morning as I await to hear of the arrival of my niece who was to be delivered by C-section this morning at 7:30 am.  I’m very much looking forward to meeting her and hearing that Mom and Dad are doing well…more to come soon!!

I knew that something was up with me when the other night one of my employees came to me after her shift and said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you seem really sad.  Is everything okay?”

I was caught off guard - I hadn’t really noticed that I wasn’t feeling myself, which when you de-construct that statement, makes no sense at all.  In that moment, I played it off as, “oh, I’m just tired.” but on my way home that night I was hung up on the moment and realized that yeah, I’m feeling a little down lately.

And I don’t know why!

What’s the deal with that!?

I’m not overly emotional, or suicidal or anything like that, so please don’t be concerned.  But I am feeling a bit of a funk.  I’ve been sleeping a lot and have felt overly tired.  I haven’t had a lot of energy lately.  My appetite is actually out of control - so, is this emotional eating?  But it’s not constant…I had a lovely afternoon and evening with my husband yesterday and felt great.  But after sleeping nearly 10 hours last night and getting up this morning, I’m just not the complete version of myself.

So, I’m thinking that this really is a reflection of what I felt at my yoga class.  That I am experience this sense of lacking balance - both physically and mentally.  But once balance is gone, it’s tough to get it back.  What’s the deal with that?!

I’ve found another yoga class.

Yeah, I know.  “So what.”  But it’s been probably a good two years - maybe more - since I was really into my yoga practice and the return to the mat tonight was wonderful.  And it came back to me like riding a bike.

While I was engaged and preparing and planning my wedding, I attended a weekly yoga class at a studio that I adored.  The studio was on my walk home from work, back when I lived in the city, and was a peaceful retreat from the workday, wedding stress, and life in general.  I attended class with a close friend and former co-worker, and our lighthearted banter en route to class gave way to quiet support during class.  I didn’t really know anyone at the studio and never really became close to the instructor, but it still felt a bit like a community.  I’ve missed that lately.

This new yoga class I’ve discovered is actually at the community center where I live.  Though we moved out to the burbs nearly two years ago, we haven’t really gotten to know any of our neighbors and pretty much keep to ourselves.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that some of my fellow yogis were a lot like me.  And even happier to find another teacher that I liked.  And for being away from my practice for such a long time, I was quite pleased that I was able to fall right back into the flow of things again.  For the most part, I’ve maintained my flexibility.  My strength could be improved, but my balance was way off.  I fear that’s indicative of a greater problem…

Things are a bit crazy at work lately.  Lots of changes and disappointments - mostly in colleagues who I was fond of, but have learned better - have left me a bit overly focused on work lately.  I have trouble sleeping sometimes.  I go in early and stay late and work through lunch.  I lack balance.

So, for week 1 of my newly found yogina lifestyle I have set my intention on something very specific.

Reclaim your balance.

So, I offended someone with my last post.  Probably more than one person, although to date, I’ve only received one piece of “That really pissed me off” feedback.

Evidently, the acronym “J.A.P.” is derogatory and I’m now a “racist”.

Does it make things any better if I say that I’m half Jewish?  It’s true - by heredity - by faith, I guess I most closely align with atheism.  That’s a blog for another day.  If I could tell you the slander I’ve had thrown at me for not believing in God on Jesus, well, it’s bound to offend many of the Red States, I’ll tell you that for sure.

I’m not really surprised that I offended someone, actually.  Not that I’m trying to be a catalyst for this type of thing, but offending people can be an effective way of making them examine their beliefs, their behaviors, and their reactions.  And for the first time - ever - I was just called “closed-minded”, and that I can’t help but chuckle at it.  A first time for everything, indeed.

That being said, I do understand that the term “J.A.P.” could be deemed offensive.  I get that.  In respect to these particular women, I was certainly not writing from a place of peace and love. And if I offended you, allow me to apologize.  I harbor no ill will toward the Jewish culture.  My grandfather, after all, did escape the holocaust.  (Oh, he’s the one who told me about this term to begin with, by the way, something about how I better not be acting like some “J.A.P.” when I threw a tantrum as a young girl…but I digress).

And so,  here and henceforth, let me say that I’m imperfect.  We all are.  It’s part of the human experience.  I’m going to  - from time to time - spout off on things that really piss me off.  It’s not always going to be pretty, or kind, and I’m not going to wrap it up in a nice little bow.  I’m also going to reflect on some beautiful moments and some painful moments.  It’s life - and life can be offensive sometimes.

Oy vey is all I can say.

Many aspects of my job align with the service industry. The other night I had the displeasure to work with some of the most high maintenance women I’ve ever come across in my life. I’ve heard of the ubiquitous J.A.P. (Jewish-American Princess) before, but being raised in a more rural part of the country, I was far more familiar with the scandals of Mormonism than the intricacies of Hebrew culture.

In case you, dear reader, are also sitting before your screen with a big question mark (?), allow me to elaborate to bring the term into context.

Urban Dictionary defines the term “J.A.P.” as: “a bitchy, spoiled, gold-digging Jewish female; Raised in a wealthy household, selfish, high-maintenance to the point of sheer insanity, stuck-up, the worst woman to date/marry on planet earth, yet deemed the most desirable by Jewish mothers, who attempt to force them down the throats of their unsuspecting sons (all for the sake of persevering ‘Jewish Heritage.’)”

It goes on to say, “A Female who collects designer fashion items and status symbols (including men). Bane to the existence of dating men. The key to an unhappy relationship for the rest of your life. Large breasted, outwardly attractive, internally spoiled, greedy, complicated, self-righteous, and obnoxiously difficult and overbearing Jewish female.”

In other words, a raving bitch.

I had the pleasure of working with about 90 of them the other night.

I pride myself as being a rather laid-back kind of person. Someone today said I was a glass half-full kind of gal.  I like that.  I once had a boyfriend accuse me of being high-maintenance, and I really just chalked that up to his inexperience with women. But even I was quite shocked at the display of bitchiness prancing about me last night. I’d never experienced a J.A.P. in all her glory.

It certainly is not pleasant.

I put it right up there with a Brazilian bikini wax. You truly have to be a glutton for punishment for this kind of treatment, but unlike the Brazilian, there’s no satisfying reward in the end when your hidden talents and secrets are discovered by someone who appreciates what you’ve suffered through. Rather, following a treatment with a J.A.P., you’re left feeling violated, angry, unsatisfied, exposed, taken advantage of, and dare I say, vengeful?

It’s no wonder so many Jewish men are in therapy - and so many became therapists!

And so, I have decided to make these women the subject of my blog this evening. And I warn you - I am drinking wine while blogging, and no, it is not Kosher.

The party that these women threw in my establishment was reminiscent of the snooty sorority party we all know from our college days. (The kegger - not the “wine and cheese night”.) Of course, as was the case then, so be it now and once you add alcohol it all goes down hill. Of course, these women were all “mom’s”. It was a “mom’s night out”. To that, I can say, I’m developing a theory as to why so many children are completely dysfunctional.  My upbringing was not all roses, but (and I never say this) thanks, Mom.  I’m really quite balanced, after all.

These were also wealthy women. The irony is that with their wealth, also came this unrealistic expectation that they should get a discount on everything they cast their false eyelashes upon. It was a throw-back to the way Cleopatra probably expected to be waited upon. If only I could have unleashed a plethora of venomous snakes upon the establishment to put an end to it all. Drats.

I could go on and on about how these women told me and my staff to “fuck-off” when we asked them to conform to some rules or policies, or how they did at least $200 worth of damage to the venue, but in the end, that would just be petty on my part.

The thing is, when you know that you are perpetuating a stereotype, don’t you think you owe it to yourself and those around you to do better? To break that stigma? Or is it really true that in fact, “birds of a feather, flock together” and should I at least count my blessings that every J.A.P. in the County was accounted for last night and that for one night only I did my service to free the rest of the population from them.

In this case, to make myself feel a bit better, I’ll take the humanitarian side of this issue and allow myself to believe that I suffered for the greater good of humanity - for one night, the kingdom went without its princesses. I hope it was good. I’ll be damned if I play jester again.

This is a theme with me, it seems. I have started multiple blogs, and eventually they all become stagnant. I lose interest. I think part of it is that I become to concerned about “theme”. I had one blog where I was trying to review something every day. I don’t think that I ever really succeeded at reviewing something on a daily basis. I had the best intentions, though.

So, I’m trying again - mostly because I like to write, and I feel like it gives me a nice creative release and keeps me in touch with myself, something that as I get older I’m discovering can become more difficult than I ever really thought. So, I’m blogging - for myself this time - with no real goal or motive other than to do it when I have the time and the inspiration, and maybe some folks will find what I have to say somewhat interesting. I also wanted to give myself a little bit of anonymity. Let’s keep this between us bloggers, shall we? After all, isn’t there some kind of code?

Anyway, if what I write strikes a fancy with you, let me know. Maybe I have a career as a reclusive writer in front of me (it sounds blissful, I do have to admit). If you don’t, well, piss off. It’s not meant for your anyway.