The Shallow End by: Karen Pilarski

I remember the first time I took swim class in high school. Ugly black swimsuits recycled from decades past. It was 1995 not 1940. The hideous and tight swimming cap left a long red mark on my forehead. In the class period after there was always one smart ass who would ask if you had swim that day. If it wasn’t the imprint of the cap it was the repugnant smell of chlorine that lasted the rest of the day.  

I was a big baby about gym and swim. That first day I cautiously dipped my big toe in the lukewarm water.  Around me colorful swimming caps bobbed up and down in the pool. I noticed long arms of classmates stretching out making beautiful rhythmic waves. The swim coach yelled for me to get in the water. There I was clinging to the ladder and making my way into the watery abyss. My legs tensed up and arms flailing around like a fish out of water. As I gasped for breath I clutched the wall. Somehow I passed swim class with a C-. 

It is simple to stay in the shallow end of the pool. It is comfortable and protective. The bad part is all that is being missed by taking the easy way. While flopping around in water that barely goes up to the knees, others have the freedom to move. There are unlimited boundaries to see how fast it takes to make it to the other side. At times, I have clutched that wall and stayed in the shallow end. However, when I really want something I go full force like an Olympian going for the gold. It is hard to take risks and have a leap of faith when there is nothing stopping from dragging someone under the tide. Maybe this is where the saying ‘sink or swim’ comes from. The choice has to be made, should I try or just let myself give up and drown in effort? 

It is very hard to make the choice when it is a small fish in a big pond. Think of the job market and read a random job posting. There is always a requirement of a specific number of years experience. Others applicants are more experienced and skilled. Many are biting at the bait wanting that job. I’m educated and creative but the hook is I lack experience. How can a person make a splash if no one is willing to take a chance on the little fish? I often dream of writing and editing for a newspaper, magazine or news station. I do have my writing ‘sea legs.’ My work has been published. I just have to keep sticking my head out of the water to be noticed. The possibility of sinking is feasible but the opportunity to swim in the big pool is worth the dive.

My Step Son, Myself by:Karen Pilarski

I joked with a colleague today about how I'm slowly turning into my parents. At times I randomly fall asleep at the table or in a movie theater. Temper flares up like a flame and then is extinguished after counting to ten. Somehow I have inherited impatience, weird health aliments and the ability to ride a wave of emotional ups and downs. Why wasn't I born with art, crafts, and cooking skills? My father likes to learn different languages and culture. Open minded to it, sure. Yet no real drive to fully engage in doing it. My mom and brothers are talented artists. I'm the odd ball who loves to write. Although I have no biological children, I have a step children. I hope some of my attributes have imprinted into their souls.

 My step son Nathan is fourteen. Fourteen going on twenty. Conceited and entitled sense of being. How quickly one can go from fourteen to four in a blink of an eye. My husband as my in-laws tell me, was the exact same way. My step son is smart and a book worm like his dad. He has the same large nose and the same smile. He is actually a very handsome mini version of my husband. If the contemptuous attitude would disappear, Nathan would be an actual human being. I meander. Youngsters don't understand it is not what they say that hurts it is the feelings that singe others. Nathan told me last weekend that he no longer wanted to come over by me and his father's house. "I can't take three days in a row over there." He also told my husband that he wishes I never married his father. Some of the haste comes with the territory of being a step parent. It is a given the "you are not my mother" card would be shown.

Maya Angelou said “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” I love her quote! I have had some good and bad times in my life. The strongest memories come from the feelings that attached to those fading visions. What I felt carries more weight than the words spoken. A lesson I wish Nathan would learn is that it doesn't matter what over the top and dramatic words he says. Nor does it matter the cuss words spewed out of his mouth. It barely registers with me the stomping and throwing fits. What matters is the sadness I feel when he takes out his trouble on others. Specifically his father. A sense of failure as a parent for letting this child spin so far out of control. People often trivialize Nathan's attitude as 'being a teen.' A friend of mine said she thinks Nathan should be shipped to a third world country in order to see real suffering and difficulties. Maybe the feelings of hopelessness of those who lived there would sear the icy exterior?

 I know with time Nathan will grow out of the immature thinking and take responsibility for his actions. As  memories of his youth drifts into years past, I imagine there will be lingering unpleasant feelings that spring back up at times. When he becomes a parent himself I hope he remembers not how he acted, but how he made those around him feel. Perhaps he will be a better parent and person for it. One day he will remember me and his dad as good parents and not the controlling monsters he claims all authority figures to be. In the distant future he will jokingly and lovingly remark how he is becoming his parents.

Regret and Reality by: Karen Pilarski

I wish I met you years before

Avoiding the thunder and heavy rain that poured

All before the grave mistakes

Unearthed from underneath the ground

Ugliness of choices and feelings now decomposing along the floor

Scratched and bruised from the chances I tried to take

Only to be left shivering and dying in it’s wake

Longing the caress of the hand discovering the softness of my face

Hunger to consume the sweetness of your taste

Distance of miles and life stretched on too far

Unable to travel to where you are

Perhaps in another time or place

Yet reminded the bed chosen can’t be unmade.

I hate Cupid by: Karen Pilarski

Red cellophane hearts stacked on shelves. Children pressing buttons on those furry stuffed animals that sing off key tunes. Red Hots spilled on the floor. Chocolate and cartoon kid cards litter the store. It is Valentine’s Day. The single person’s dreaded time of the year. If you the reader are single, I’ll let you in on a secret.  People in relationships hate this day too. 

Where is the actual courting? If the relationship is a few years old most people wait until the day before or morning of to get last minute Valentine’s Day gifts. I know someone who thinks the day was created from card industry and he would be ‘fake’ if he bought into it. However, let me point out when he was married to his first wife and even before that he seemed to buy into it. There is a story of finding a crystal rose he bought for an old girlfriend.  While I love romance and lovely gestures, I don’t want to make someone do something they don’t want to do. 

Despite the lack of gifts, where is the actual romance? Is it enough to take someone out to eat or to a movie? Then what? A few winks and drinks and then it is time to hit the sheets.

It would be simpler to eliminate the notion that romance has to be forced.  I would prefer someone to hide treats in my desk or write a message on a foggy mirror. There doesn’t have to be some gallant answer that involves a huge diamond and flower strewn paths. 

The daydreams and fantasies that are built up in our heads never live up to the hype.  The cute waitress might actually be a chain smoking crazy cat lady. The nerdy and bald guy you are crushing on may have a gambling addiction and a weird infection.  For some single people anything is better than nothing at all. To be frank, married and couples share the same belief.  

While I am married, I loathe Valentine’s Day. The card never really says how you feel. The chocolate gives you a stomach ache.  The card I would like to get says the following:

Dear hon,

You look sexy and thin in everything you wear. I’d rather watch the ‘Carrie Diaries’ than some dumb game. I cleaned the whole house and made you a candle light dinner. Low cal of course.

P.S. I told my mother she is not allowed over until next year.

With all my heart and soul,

Hubby

 So singles lets unite with married people and whip conversation hearts at those kissy faced jerks in the wooing stage of romance.

The Devil Wannabe Wears Faux Prada By: Karen Pilarski

The Devil Wears Prada was a popular movie starring Anne Hathaway. She was a tad meek and a bit boorish looking. She had a back stabbing colleague and a cantankerous boss. I think the character and elements of the film are relatable to people in similar situations.  Everyone has had that job where they were basically peons. Who can forget that first job at a greasy fast food joint? The hungry and crabby customers and screaming children were encountered everyday. The pimply and gawky teenaged supervisor blamed and ridiculed. After work would be spent scrubbing off the maldorous smell of spoiled meat and soured ice cream. The first job is where dues were paid. So you thought.

Fast forward some years and countless crappy jobs. Degrees have been awarded and now you are in the bigger (slightly higher) leagues. I have a friend named Lilly who is amazing. She is creative, compassionate, organized and smart. Lilly tried to do all the right things to get noticed. She was passed up for a promotion for God knows what reason. She wasn’t boorish or meek. She had experience, a degree, ambition and drive. She had the misfortune to work under a tyrant. She is now fielding other job offers as I write this.

Just because a person has a degree doesn’t mean the sky opens and the dream job rains down from the heavens above. This reality kicks in after six months of looking for a higher paying job and not having any luck. What people want is for someone to provide guidance, understanding and last of all respect.

I recently started to network. I have had wonderful connections ask me about my writing and invite me for coffee. I even inspired a blog post! It seems people really feel for the novice. They understand the daunting journey of getting recognized and trying to get a foot in the door. That said, sometimes there is a bad networking connection.  I accidentally sent a request to network with someone that I didn’t know. Understandably she asked how I knew her. That should have been the end. Nope, she proceeded to critique my profile and offer unsolicited suggestions. While I’m open to suggestions, this one seemed a bit mean spirited. She didn’t even look at my profile closely to see her suggestions were there. That alone was disrespectful.  She then trivialized personal writing as “my struggles.”  Ouch. 

The point is all colleagues and especially supervisors should treat employees with respect and acknowledge them. You never know when the copy boy might become CEO of a large corporation or that secretary becomes the next Barbara Walters. You lived a mile in their shoes.  Show future leaders how to climb the success ladder. Don’t yank the ladder from under them.   

Dream Cheating for Dummies (I am that dummy) By: Karen Pilarski

Last night I watched Indecent Proposal and Fatal Attraction with my husband’s 21 year old god daughter.  We killed off a bottle of wine and made scandalous remarks about Robert Redford. Not sure if it was Redford’s intoxicating offer or the alcohol that wrecked havoc on my sleep. I had a crazy dream I kissed another man. To protect privacy and spare being ridiculed, I will call him ‘Redford.’  In real life I know Redford. Redford and I were in a building that was being repaired when suddenly smooching occurred. I casually invited him over to my place.  Some point in this dream my husband and I had a row and he went to work angry. Redford and I made plans for our torrid indiscretion.

As anyone who recalls their dreams knows, your home is mildly or wildly different. My husband and I lived in a townhouse. It was messy (that part is actually true) with garbage and boxes everywhere. There was cot with a sleeping bag. I thought if Redford asked I would just lie and say we had just moved in. I looked outside my window and noticed Redford sitting on the steps. Suddenly my mother-in-law pulls up! Way to destroy the impending tryst. My husband gets out of the car and looks at Redford. I uttered some unsavory words. I thought “why the hell is he home?” He wasn’t in his uniform which was strange. Poor Redford looked like he wanted to soil himself. My mother-in-law called the cops! A cop pulls up in an instant (which is pretty good for Milwaukee). My husband gets back into the car. I run downstairs and see the officer talking to Redford. The cop asks what is going on here. He said Redford explained he was over there to buy a refrigerator. I mouth “A fridge, seriously?”  The cop makes us go in the back of the squad car for an interrogation. Excuses are made to try to get out of the uncomfortable situation. The officer steps out of the car. He goes and talks to my husband. My mother-in-law and husband speed off into the night.

Redford and I are in the back of the squad car. We start kissing and I stop him. I say “I really have feelings for you but I can’t do this.” He agrees. I go back home alone (which sucks already).  I frantically call my husband but it goes right to voice mail. I call my mother-in-law and she is short with me. She tells me my husband quit his job. I was more aggravated that he quit his job then I was that I got busted for cheating. I spent the rest of the dream going through boxes in our place. The boxes had Redford’s stuff in them. There were family pictures, baby photos, mementos.  I woke up.

I told my husband about the dream and he just shook his head and laughed. This dream had some obvious points. One, everyone has trash and past baggage. Sometimes it is possible to gather other people's  baggage without even knowing it. The cop was apparently my conscious self telling me what I was doing was wrong. Should I be insulted “Redford” didn’t offer a million dollars for a night with me? I’ll save that one for another dream.  Memo to me, never watch movies about sex and drink. Finally, no bunnies were boiled in the making of this dream.

The Terrible 30's

The two year old was quietly sitting in her booster seat. It wasn’t until a red balloon came into her sights did she start to stir. She wailed and thrashed herself around.  Scratches on her mom’s arm was proof this sassy girl wasn’t giving up. The same scenario happened after the older girl said she was full. A delicious piece of chocolate cake was placed in front of her dad. She wanted that cake even though her tummy was making noises and cramping. When her dad took a call, she snuck a bite. When he returned he demanded to know who took a bite. The older girl took a deep breath and then blamed the two year old. 

Funny how people want what they didn’t know existed or what they didn’t know they needed. As children we learn to cry or throw a fit when something doesn’t go our way.  We learn how to fight for our fair share. Whether another kid’s toy or the candy sticking out in plain view. As we grow older we learn to stop the impulse to take whatever we want or pitch a tantrum at will. 

As teenagers we learn to manipulate and use things to our advantage. Any tidbit of information can be used in our favor.  This comes in handy in school when you catch a conversation about the boy you are crushing on. A whisper about a house party tickles the eardrum. Observation is a teenager’s secret weapon. 

Being an adult and wanting comes at a price. Adults want to the best house, the lucrative job, and the perfect marriage. When those things don’t happen, we stew. Resentment takes over and spirals into guilt and regret. Someone else is in possession of what we want. It would be easy to regress back to our two year old selves. Scream and grab at what we think should belong to us. Act like a rebellious teenager and scheme to get our way? As we see in reality shows and the news, people do use these tactics. Wanting may cost us. It could cost us our current jobs, current marriages, current state of being.  Some have an affair; few may pick up and move far away. My adult self would rather just accept the conditions then disturb them. 

I wish I could act like a two year old. No longer caring about other’s feelings or if they get hurt.  I wouldn’t sweat over leaving people and things behind in my wake. Unfortunately, I’m not a toddler.  I tend to care too much what people think and feel. Often times at the expense of my own feelings and wants.  Although the wanting is still there, I have to be an adult. It is time to put on my big girl pants and deal with life as it comes.