Who needs extreme sports when Survival is this Exhilarating?

Thursday evening and the world is good again. After a few days of some pretty serious self-doubt I emerge hopeful. I'm looking forward to Saturday and spending some money at Target and the flower shop. What else is there?

Don't think about the future, don't ponder the past, don't judge yourself.

Just converse with co-workers, just smile, just take a break, just take care of yourself.

Well....

I teeter between wishing I was dead, wishing I was better, and wishing I would win the lottery.

Nobody can save you, even if they want to, nobody.

It costs 2 dollars to get into the state park, just to eat lunch at a picnic table beneath a mature tree. The trees are held ransom and then they wonder why everybody is on anti-depressants.

It costs 6 dollars to get into the county park, just for the privilege of walking on a path where the risk of being hit by a car or raped is minimal. They build a landscape for cars and wonder why everybody is fat.


There are so many ways to solve the debt/spending problem.

Stop spending money on roads, make everybody walk everywhere, everybody gets healthier, health care costs go down. See that attacks the money problem from each end.

Everybody boycott health insurance (or outlaw it for all I care) and then let the doctor decide what you need and then just pay for it, like with money that day. If you can't afford it, then you know what you are going to die of.

Eliminate all income and social security tax paid for people making 35k or less. You ever tried to live on 35k or less, around here? You know every penny you pay in taxes. Give them that money back and they will spend it.

Every person I know who makes 250 a year or more is old, white, a man, buys muscle cars from the 60's, plays a hell of a lot of golf, and has a cadre of lawyers to keep his kids out of legal trouble. Haven't seen any of them decide to become a "job creator".

Every "job creator" I know makes way less than 250 a year and the biggest gripe of their employees is they do not have health insurance or any retirement plan.

Stop spending so much money to spy on people.

Teach people to know things, mentor them, let them apprentice in trade.

Stop watching TV.

Let gay people get married and adopt kids...lots of kids...I would have loved to have been raised by gay people.

Cleaning Service

As I move around the house, focusing on this pile and neutralizing this stack and discovering this or that unpleasantness in a corner, I wonder if it is all worth it. Maybe I should be doing something more fun with my day off?

The cleaning ladies come tomorrow. The house must meet certain standards before they will dig in. They could reject me, with a curt note and threats of never returning, the check left upon the table. They are A-rated on Angie's list, they don't need my crap.

Oh the excellent feeling I have when I come home from work and the lemony smell of cleaning products swirls out the front door! I skip into the house and wander around in amazement, gazing at the shiny wood floors, the little vacuum attachment marks on the sofas, the crumb-less stove-top, the expanse of wrinkle-free bedspread with neatly propped up pillows. It's worth the uncertainty and waves of doubt the day before.

The next few days I feel so pleased if someone stops in, and sees the glorious condition of my home. At this time, I would say, it is worth it.

Well I have to go, there are plastic containers all OVER the kitchen....

A Walk in the Woods

I finished reading A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail by Bill Bryson. I liked it. He thinks like I do and says all the snarky things I would want to say under similar circumstances.

What is shy?

Words that have been used to describe me are, shy, introverted, and quiet. This past weekend while visiting my little nieces they gave me a "personality test" from one of their girlie books. One of the questions was, at a party are you talking to everybody or quiet in a corner, and I said quiet. Unbelieving, they both pealed out a REALLY?!

You see amongst 8 and 10 year old girls I am the LIFE of the party. I'm willing to do any silly thing to get a reaction from them and will do it almost anywhere. I once went out in public debuting about 20 little butterfly clips in my hair since the littlest one had styled it that way. When it comes to pleasing the kids, I'll do it all and with flair.

So what is it to be shy? Obviously shyness around strangers is more common than when hanging out with family. I'll venture a theory that shyness can accumulate over time after a series of negative reactions received from others. Like when people talk over you, or cut you off. Or when people are argumentative and treat every conversation as an opportunity to prove a point.

Of course the negativity can run in the opposite direction too, there is the guilt and embarrassment of letting yourself do too much talking. And you end up saying things you wish you hadn't and the mental filter goes up and your mouth shuts up.

Does that make you shy or wise?

Sunday

As another Sunday winds down and another work week looms in my immediate future, I try to focus and figure out what my strategy will be for maintaining emotional balance next week.

I spent a splendid weekend in the south visiting my kin-folk. As I filed out of the airport toward the husband awaiting me in the car, I notice the people working on a Sunday night in the airport. These jobs entail picking up garbage off the plane, picking up garbage off the floor of the airport, or even worse, working at a shop in the airport, where one must spend lonely hours sitting in an empty store for practically no monetary return, and surely no benefits.

It immediately makes me feel grateful for my job and my paycheck when I see workers like this. I could never live my life on their pay, and I would probably not even be able to do it, since it requires punching a time-clock, something I have never been able to master. They do encourage me greatly to go in and get the damned job done. No whining. No stressing.

The Good News is...

I may be unreliable, stressed-out, unfocused, slow, lazy, a loner and disappointing, but I am NOT depressed.

Writer's Block

Ever heard of writer's block? Well sometimes I get worker's block. There are numerous techniques I've developed over the years to help dissipate it. Walk around and talk to co-workers, get coffee, surf the internet, go sit in my car, go sit in the ladies room, and type emails to friends are some of my tactics. Today I tried them all and by 4:30pm I was getting nowhere. Like literally nowhere, sitting there staring, click open outlook, close outlook, open outlook, close outlook. So I left (the last resort technique) and came home. God I hope tomorrow is better. Huge tasks are piling up, and they ain't gonna get done by themselves...that's for goddamn sure.

And it's only Tuesday

At the beginning of the day I felt like a double-dutch rejectee trying to get back in the game.

By the end of the day I was like a cricket with one leg tore off trying to escape the cats.

The Great Gatsby

Read it. It's short. The writing style is unique. Certainly different than what I am used to, but I could follow it. And the poor neighbor at the end has to witness the friendless funeral. This ending reminded me a bit of A Man in Full by Tom Wolfe. It's a manly concern, a legacy thing I suppose. It does not strike me as all that tragic, a little sad maybe.

It's the physiological symptoms that tell me I've had enough

When at work I am overwhelmed at the number of details I am required to look after. There are so many I could not even list them here.  I check contract drawings against factory drawings, factory drawings against other factory drawings to make sure mating equipment, can, er, mate.  Endless checking is required to make sure every item on an order is correct, and an order may have hundreds of items. IT SUCKS!

Adding to the insurmountable mountain of details is a computer system that requires its own pampering .  One must check the computer to make sure everything matches up, then check the computer again, since sometimes the computer automatically changes things for reasons that can only be explained by someone in IT, but in no way make sense to a human trying to get work done. These are called ‘glitches’. THESE WILL HAUNT YOU FOREVER!

I used to think it was just my particular industry, but after working Saturday’s at the vets I’m convinced it’s everywhere. Recently I was confronted about a pricing error in the computer system that had been passed on to a customer. I was charged with being negligent because I should have caught the computer error. I can think of a list of reasons why this wasn’t particularly my fault, but whatever, when you are confronted it’s all over. ASSIGNING BLAME IS SOMETHING PEOPLE DO WHO CANNOT ACCEPT THAT SHIT HAPPENS!

Detailed paper documentation -> detailed computer files -> ever vigilant for computer glitches -> repeat.

Note to self: next job, make sure it does not require the cycle above. It is impossible and will make you crazy!

Sunday

After a mostly pleasant weekend myself re-emerges. So I was not lost forever! The successful formula was dinner out with the husband, a trip to the used bookstore, laundry folded and put away, litter pans emptied, plants watered, a lot of sleep.

Godspeed J. Work had next week and earn a bunch of money.

Wednesday Work opens up the heart to Despair

A work overload creates an atmosphere of controlled panic where speed and efficiency flow from my fingertips onto the keyboard and bounce off my tongue into the phone. My mind ceaselessly pushes, "work faster, get more done, this absolutely MUST get this done by 11, then this must get done...". Every breath reminds me of the pressure in the center of my chest, dull pain emanates outward and back toward the spine, up to the shoulders and down to the stomach. Even my elbows hurt. I frantically check my bank account, retirement account, calculating best case scenarios. I consider bargaining for more vacation time.

My character is drained of humor and common courtesies during the day. In the evening it leaves a shell of a being unable to enjoy gardening, reading, eating, walking the dogs or even television shows. I breathe in, and out, deep, and slow,
remembering
to let
my stomach rise, and fall
with my lungs.

On more manageable days I feel I am on the cusp of discovering something about myself, something crucial, important, altering. If I just had a little bit more time to think things through. Then I am robbed of the time, I must perform, and I don't like it. My house of cards blown over, just as I was setting the top-most one.

Was I ever onto anything? Am I a fool? Why not embrace the work-load? A million chances at self-discovery, none of them pursued to success. To change the story of my life.

It shows what happens when you ask too much of a limited resource: it disappears.

             From Why the Colorado River Stopped Flowing, as heard by me on All Things Considered on NPR.

Wow. I'm really trying to keep up appearances. Work is killing me. One co-worker left in March, then the other left mid-June. I'm all that is left of my job description. It is my understanding that the lapse in hiring replacements is a money saving measure, standard procedure. A replacement has been hired and starts August 3rd. So I only need to survive two more weeks.

If only it were only the two weeks. I work managing projects, and lately we have started many new projects. As any project manager can tell you, the early work is the most important. I have, I don't know, about 10 projects that will last a year or two that are all getting off to a very bad start. The repercussions will probably reverberate for years, long beyond the life-span of this next new chick starting August 3rd. Yahoo, I'm sure I'll still be around, mopping up the mess.

Little Bee

Finished reading Little Bee. It was good, did it in a week. The story was good, made you think. But what I liked best was the way Little Bee told her story, as a foreigner, in a Nigerian accent.

For Real

Part of the engine of the global economy is the unreasonable demands that can be placed on people you don't know. For there's always someone else you don't know who will do it cheaper.

Bless all the Bad Kids the Good People send their kids to Private School to Avoid ever having to Meet.

I was going to post about my hard-working ass, but as I sit outside on the deck, I notice the neighbor kid out on her roof.

It makes me optimistic about the future.

Of the three homes I can see stretching across the end of the yard, I've seen kids on all. In a neighborhood of tiny yards, too many people and not enough privacy the kids figured this one out. On their roofs they talk and play and observe without interruption.

I know the schools around here are not great, their parents probably work all hours, their teachers probably think they are all delinquents. And a portion of them most likely are.

But a few will break out, and go somewhere, and see a different world where they'll learn and grow and acquire sophisticated tastes. Survival multiplies in their gut. And someday, when they're making some money and can go visit a posh restaurant any time they want, they'll remember....a little patch of roof, hovering above an itty bitty yard, beneath the airport's approach path, on a humid summer's night ....

"I wish I hadn't even gone."

There are certain people I have cut out of my life. And I am forever having to explain to my mother why. I never have an acceptable reason. Like 'because they are alcoholics', or 'they abandoned me' or 'they beat me when I was little' or any of the common reasons people give for forsaking kin-folk. But at last, a simple reason occurred to me. Many times on the drive home after visiting these relatives, I'd heartily wish I hadn't even gone.

The realization came about today, as the husband and I drove homeward in the truck, both windows down, the dogs tired but happy in the center, I stared at the familiar route 10 trees sliding by and thought how glad I was we had gone visiting that afternoon. I had not wanted to go, the lists of chores scoffing at me, my stewing over how incompetent I was at last week's work convention still on a low simmer.

But the kids and back-yard and trees and dogs and shared strawberry short-cake sent the lonesome, tormenting thoughts away. A shared afternoon with my sister-in-law's family made all the difference to me. They helped ME. And that is worth going back for.

Just walked in from my "gas and cash" run. "Gas" and "Cash" both completed. Now "pack".

I went to the post office where a woman walked in with 7 children buzzing around her. Had to stop myself from gasping aloud, "Are you really going in there with all those kids?!", as I was filling out forms and perturbed that this pre-adolescent mob scene would be ahead of me in line.

As I drive about town I wonder about my blog and if the two blogs I have been following via a bookmark could be added to my blog list. I like them, but adding to my blog list feels like stalking. It does make it easier for me to access and read. Hmmm... feeble social skill set not helping me make a decision. I don't know these two people from adam, just found by clicking around you know.

Where'd all the Good People Go?

Where'd all the Good People Go? is actually the refrain of a song I like. Who are the good people? The tiny part of my brain that thinks it knows these things tells me the good people have jobs, that they show up to on time, if not early.  They work hard all day and make their company money. They come home at a decent hour and make dinner, talk to their kids, straighten up their houses, say 'Hi' to the neighbors, call their mother, brush their teeth, and turn out all the lights and the TV before going to sleep, in their bed.

On the weekends they mow and mulch their lawns. They fix broken gutters and maybe power-wash the siding. They decorate the outside of their homes according to the season, and remove said decorations promptly, and put it all away in rubber-maid bins they store in the attic. They drag the decorations down and unpack it, then pack it up again and again and again.

They take nice planned out vacations, they go weekends to visit friends. They send little gifts to their friends kids on their birthdays. They always remember to send Christmas, sympathy and 'thinking of you' cards. They use coupons, all their bills are paid on time, they have adequate retirement savings. Their car is always presentable. Their house never smells funny.

They can't believe people who let their grass get too high, and don't use weed-n-feed every fall. They look on in disgust at people who show up late for work. They sneer at laziness and ungratefulness. They just don't believe in clutter, at all, anywhere.

The good people, who keep everything going along, going along.....banks and political parties and corporations and universities and sports leagues and the highway system.....and Facebook.

Stayed Home Today

Just emailed 'out' this morning and then read Brave New World. It was an ok book, I don't see what all the fuss is about though. It seemed kind of old-fashioned. I was not impressed with the way women generally were portrayed in the book either. I read it because in the local paper there was a hullabaloo about having high school kids read it. And I have to admit, after I read it I don't think I would be too pleased if my teenage child had to read this book either. The book does more to solidify out of date notions about women than it does to make the kids think about science and how it could affect society in the future. And why would a black kid even want to bother with the book? The book is best left where it began, in 1932.

Beyond all that though I'm glad a lay in bed all day and read. After reading it I journalled a little, the pen and paper way, then showered. Before coming downstairs it felt like I had a direction for the rest of the day. But the atmosphere in my head is hugely different between upstairs and downstairs. Downstairs the feelings of being lost just flood in from every direction. Upstairs is safe. Safe to plan and daydream and pretend. Downstairs too real, upstairs just enough removed.

Maybe I should walk v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y down the steps and see how many steps I can get upstairs head down.

Dark Comedy

Actual email I received today:


"Christine and Karla were just at your house and they cleaned but they missed a few things because there was cat poop on the carpet and the bathroom floor.  I was wondering if you minded us rescheduling the cleaning? I was also wondering if you could clean up the cat poop and litter box before the next cleaning so we could get the things that we missed this time?  Please let us know what you think. I hope to hear from you soon."

Rehearsal - Part I

A man at work, who was a co-worker until the struggles with cancer forced him to go on disability, transitioned to hospice care. I never liked this man when we worked together. He was divisive amongst co-workers, and slightly creepy on a one-on-one basis. He was difficult to communicate with and could act like an ass if you were at a level below him on the work scale. He tended to over complicate everything. The cancer forced everyone around him to cover for his portion of the work so that he could be at appointments etc. This went on for a year and a half. Then ultimately the cancer became his full-time job.

Apparently now everyone must go visit him, or at the very least send him cards. At least that is what all my co-workers are doing, but no one ever asks me. I bring this up because last Friday a particular group of co-workers paid a visit to his home and did not include me. There was no mention made to me, at all.

I dare not complain, since I did not and do not want to go visit this guy. I mean, I never liked him, and I had thought other co-workers were of the same opinion. But this event makes me wonder, of course, did I somehow dislike him more than everyone else and everyone picked up on that? Is one supposed to get over not liking somebody when they are near death? Perhaps everyone knew that if asked, I would say no. And I'm quite certain I would have. I don't think your relationship with someone should change when death is knocking. I try to behave as if death is knocking every day. Whether or not I am living up to this credo can only be determined when I too, am at death's door. When I'm lying on my death-bed, do I want everybody I ever knew, liked or not, trotting through my bedroom? I don't think so. And does this make me different from other people?

I think probably don't know if this makes me different from other people, because honestly I don't believe most people think about their own death. Or if they do think about it, it is some sanitized Christian version of lights, and heaven, and Pearly Gates, and being judged.

I am not certain of much, but one thing I am certain of, is when I die, I want to be quiet and focused on what is happening.

Heat Reflecting off Mulberry

I finished reading Snow Falling on Cedars.

It took me about 4 days. I enjoyed it. I stayed up later than my usual bed-time to finish it. My little light shines.

I found myself jealous of the characters easy relationship with nature. Within moments the citizens of San Piedro island could be walking on a beach or standing among trees of a forest, or even out on a boat. It made me wonder why I don't spend more time doing these things. I can make a list of excuses certainly, but basically it is because there is not much nature nearby. There are not even sidewalks in my neighborhood.

How to Stop Burning Bridges

Step one is the hardest: how to recognize a bridge worth maintaining. In my experience bridges don't burn or even catch fire, they fall apart due to neglect. Only after they have fallen completely apart do you recognize there even was a bridge and that it traversed a deep canyon.

A deep canyon that widens with every step you take away from it, or for that matter even closer to it. For standing at the edge and wishing for a way back does not rebuild the bridge. Reconstruction requires thought, a plan, and a list of materials. Then you must drive to the hardware store, go up and down aisles until you find everything, and buy some tools too that you don't have or can't remember where you put them. Then when you discover you can't fit all the supplies in your car, you have to inquire about renting a truck by the hour, loading it, driving it back to where the gaping wound in your past lies, off-loading the tools and materials, driving back and picking up your car that was left sitting in the parking lot.

If then you can get back to the site of your materials and tools without stopping at McDonald's for a McCafe with chocolate syrup and whipped topping to console yourself about how much work this is, and then tell yourself that really, you can live with this big canyon in the landscape of your life, it's ok, you'll just navigate around it, well then, you have more perseverance and focus than I.

Sunday

So it is Sunday again and I feel like myself.

Phew! Just in time to....start work again Monday?

The work weeks have me on a treadmill that is both safe and unsatisfying.

Sundays are glorious in that work worries seem to keep their distance. The calibration in my head adjusts back to MY approved measurements of success (as opposed to aforementioned work) and I am able to do things like: putter in the yard, make myself a glass of iced tea, and do a load of laundry with the self-assuredness of a truly balanced, productive citizen of the world.

Early week I cling onto my Sunday Strength by coming home at lunch and talking to my cats. It helps a little. But the scales of sanity are easily tipped when faced with 8 grueling hours of workery. That's eight EVERY DAY mind you. The stream of incoming emails and coworker jockeying quickly sap the Sunday Strength.

Additionally I have myself as a direct target of manly adoration from a few, and I am not skillful at handling this social situation either. I am a truly sweet, kind, not-to-bad to look at woman and I cannot turn it off. I am noticing at least 3 co-workers saying things to me they should not be saying, but I don't know what to say to shut them up. It is difficult because I do like these guys, I think of them as my friends, and then they take me by surprise. I spoke to one male co-worker if my patient listening to these guys was implying that I was available and he said yes. That men will think everything is okay unless they are actively given a "no" and I act offended. So there is that pain in the ass in addition to everything else work entails. My god, I thought being married was enough to stop men from behaving badly, but apparently not.

Difficulty begets difficulty and the week drags on. Friday's are good, I usually drink too much and then lay awake planning how I will get caught up next week. Saturday I'm doing stuff that life requires and then glorious Sunday reappears and I get to be myself again! Safe at home with the husband and the dogs and cats.

Begging and Pleading

The world is presently spinning because I went into work today. Your welcome everybody.

It sucked.

On the drive home I wanted to beg and plead to God to help me "endure the things I cannot change", namely work. But I do not believe there is a God, and Buddhas don't come across as sympathetic to lazy, modern women who just want more time to watch TV without the interference of productivity demands.

So I am left with the wanting, the wanting to beg and plead, and no one, not even an imaginary invisible remote being, that could possibly want to listen and propel circumstances in my favor. The wanting gets pent up and turns into whining. Whining the husband has implemented a zero tolerance policy on. I am not impressed with the whining either, but it pours out of me as easily as pee after a pot of coffee. It's all got to go somewhere.

A Monday Evening

I don't know what to do so I take a nap.

Do I read? Do I write? Do I clean? Trim the dog's nails? Buy stuff on-line?

I don't know what to do so I paint my nails.

Purple, dark and longing for a future to match.

Wednesday

It is Wednesday and I have been thinking about moving for a job. It is counter-intuitive for me. No job could be worth selling a house, moving, getting used to new surroundings, new people, finding a new place to keep all the crap and animals and husband. For a job...I might hate?

Newton

Newton died today.

I'm amazed at how animals handle dying. It is a subject of intense interest to me, that I never tire of, and is endlessly varied.

At the time of death he appeared to be quite ready, relieved, and absent of fear.

He knew it was coming for weeks, yet it did not unnerve him. How can that be? What makes the heart pound and the blood pulse so steadily? No fear, no regrets, no wondering "why me?".

He took care of himself. He was always cleaned, would fight another cat if needed in a heartbeat. He would fight for that patch of sunshine, or the good chair, or the spot in my lap. He was no subservient do-gooder.

Yet, at a moment someone new walked in the house he was there to greet, and purr and stick around to make the guest feel they must be special for a cat to pay such attention. He could look lovingly towards you within a second of being called with a hiss directed toward the oncoming dog simultaneously. How did he do that? So effortlessly? The looking after himself whilst giving to others.

That's what I want to know, the secret. And he died, and took the gift with him.

Sunday

The husband has left the house and I cannot find the TV remote anywhere. This happens to me all the time, I cannot fathom where he puts it. But I know he will come home, and within 30 seconds will be clicking around the stations. So now I am stuck cleaning house with an infomercial going, sigh.

Pre-Sunday

Facebook Anxiety
At 25 friends, I fear I have befriended too many. How can I politely unfriend?

Newton
He is not long for this world.

Monday Morning

I hired a maid service to "help" me, and now today they are already half hour late. Why why why. This is not helping me. I need help dammit, not more people who require my patience and sympathy!

Sunday

Hello Blog,

No little gems are coming to mind, but feel compelled to post. As you are one of only a few friends, and I cannot afford to lose the ones I got. You are so good at putting up with my whining.

Lately I have been considering, who would stick with me if the shit really hit the fan? It is a short list. And I figure time invested in those few is worth the investment. Everyone else is mere decoration. Of course, on the flip side, I am certain I am mere decoration to others, actually most, of the people and family I interact with.

The maid service starts Monday. I hope they do a good job, I don't need another money drain. But I do feel much better with a clean house. Been going to that car cleaning place too, damn they are a hell of a lot faster than I could ever do.

I've been considering getting a third job, but don't know what yet. Maybe volunteering, but I prefer a paid gig.

Later Blog,
Jennifer

One of the few Epiphanies of my Life

We were at the front desk chatting, while the vet was in an exam room with the dog and it's owner. There are close to two decades between us, but we were working harmoniously, both focused on our goal of getting home early.

Lynn was chatty. She was conflicted as always, testing the waters to get somebody's approval.  I was both honored that she would want my approval and felt I owed karma, as I did the same at her age.

Connie, a past co-worker whom Lynn had been spending an oddly large amount of time with, had called Lynn to let her know she was pissed since Lynn hadn't been spending enough time with her lately. Knowing what I know about Connie, I was thinking how it may be better for Lynn to stay away from Connie. Connie was divisive, bitter and on edge, about to fall into a canyon of craziness. For her part, Lynn had never seemed so together, her previous defensive nature mellowed, revealing a reasonable human being. She lamented, "I have a boyfriend and family, I don't have time for all her crap all the time."

"That's why I don't have any friends," I immediately responded.

Lynn raised her hand and we high-fived as she said, "Me either."

Sunday Sunday

A long three-day weekend. Three-day since Friday I took off work, not because President's Day is a holiday from my job.

The family met at a lawyers office to discuss the state of my late Grandmother's house and how to get it sold. Or more appropriately, how to get it off everybody's hands. As the attorney was speaking options took form. Sell it, auction it, or burn it. Auction being the most likely, burning the most entertaining. It could sell, but it comes at a risk of turmoil that could forever fracture relationships. But how can relationships compete with money, or nostalgia, or power?

That evening we drank and flirted with young girls and shared a few pictures.

Next morning breakfast was cooked in short order and the caravan down to the house began. Move things out, clean, change the locks, fix the front door, eat a bucket of KFC, take a load to the dump, a load to the thrift store, finish packing vehicles with treasures, head back.

That evening we drank and flirted with young girls and shared a few stories.

The family stays the same, the family changes. Who has a permanent position? Who is disposable? How do I fit into it, why am I concerned? Maybe becoming an adult is not relying on it. Not relying on anything or anyone, but ghosts, memories and yourself.

Relying on your own story.

Back to My Life of Quiet Desperation

Enough of this Bridget Jones' diary business and grand 30,0000 foot views of life. Back to the whole point of this blog, how work SUCKS, and how I need to be freed from the chains of my own incapabilities.

The workday, a never ending uphill push against details over-looked, requests unanswered, ego's unfulfilled. My ego in particular. A single workday can undo a whole life.

I check the bank account to make sure at least that is on track. Yes, all bills paid with money left in the coffer. Good, good, all this shit has paid off today, I won't be living on the street tonight.

But tomorrow, oh tomorrow. Tomorrow could be the day all hell rains down and they tell me to get out. Or worse, or worse, they tell me to fix everything and won't let me go home until everthing is straightened out. The hell, the pure hell. And crying wouldn't help.

I'm too old to become a stripper, however at times it crosses my mind that it might be an enjoyable job. Aside from the freaks and losers.

Tomorrow will be better, tomorrow will be better.

The dog didn't take a crap on the carpet today. Hallelulah! Gve thanks for small miracles.

40+40=80

I assumed the trajectory of my life would go like this:
      /\
    /    \
  /        \
/            \

But terrified it will go like this:

      /\
    /    \
  /       |
/         |___

And hopeful it will end up like this:

      /|      /
    /  |    /
  /    |  /
/      |/

My Hot Chocolate

2 mugfuls of milk
2 tablespoons cocoa
4 tablespoons brown sugar
a little bit of cinnamon
a little bit of red pepper

Put mini-chocolate chips and marshmallows in the mug before pouring in the hot chocolate.

A little bit of exotic comfort food! The best!

(Although the husband says it tastes like dirt.)

Yet Another Morning

I don't particularly have anything to post today, but I had to put something up so that long soliloquy on working mothers is not the first post up there. It's soooo long, I can't imagine anyone would want to slog through it all. One of the things I like about having a blog is being able to go back through and read old posts, and even I don't want to re-read that one.

Big news around here is trying to house train Ziva. Ziva is winning, carpeting is losing. It's not a fun time. The doggie urine smell is getting bad, and I'm falling way behind on picking up her poop piles.

Yesterday we erected the kennel, and she will spend her days in there. That will help, but she still sneaks off even when we are home and then 'poof!' a new pile has appeared.

Work and Mothers and Fathers and the Rest of Us - Who Cares?

A post on a career blog I read has me perplexed. The post is about working mothers versus working women who are not mothers. The use of the word "versus" is one I don't think should ever be used, but there it is, these discussions always have to go one way or the other with no grey in between.

This topic usually uninterests me and I don't read such articles. And I suspect I do not visit sites that would even venture into this subject anyways, so what I see is only the tip of the iceberg.

First of all, why are groups of women all categorized together at all? Work, mothering and being a spouse are all such individual endeavors that I don't see how people think their particular combination of these three is "typical" or that they can make assumptions about anybody else who appears to have combined these three things in the same fashion they have.

But for some reason women continue to discuss this as if there is a correct formula, or at the very least feel their group has to express themselves to the other group so they be understood. Why? Why do any women care? What do they believe they have to gain? Is there some legislation they would like passed? If this is their aim, I for one wish they would be more direct about it. Because it appears women like to tear each other apart just to try and make themselves feel better. And that makes me sad.

I have no kids, by choice. And mostly I do not get any feedback on this, probably because I am anti-social and don't talk to anybody, but I digress. My point here is that I have had some people tell me I must have foregone having children so I can focus on my career. No, that is not the reason. Why do people think it must be children or career? My career is mediocre, I've never particularly had any career ambition or goals. I don't work tons of over-time, but still, I don't want any children.

I don't want children because I just don't. The feeling never grabbed me. Babies don't get me excited, not like I see other women act. I've never had a good relationship with my mother and the thought of having a child of my own only brings up thoughts of teenagers yelling they hate me, sick kids making me stay up all night, and having to give up watching television marathons on weekends because a needy, little, self-centered sentient being has a soccer tournament. See? It's best if I am never any ones mother, it would just suck for that poor human, but it is not because I have a sky-rocketing career.

Do I think I am a more valuable worker because I do not have the worry of children, or have to take days off for them, or any of that business? No, no I don't. As a matter of fact, I have wondered if I would be a more efficient worker if I did have kids because I would be forced to keep my workday to certain hours. If I did have children, I would either be more efficient, or I would be a disaster. I tend to believe the disaster is more likely. Which is why I do have enormous admiration for the women who work and have children. They have skills I cannot fathom.

That being said, I do think some mothers have very high expectations of themselves and are fairly demanding of their husbands. Some examples are a mother who was upset she did not meet her sales goal in the same year she took off to have a baby. Another is a man I work with who told his wife he did not want her going back to school to get a PhD because they had 4 children and he did not think he could do his job and take care of the kids while she was working on a doctorate. I supported the man, the working mothers in the office admonished him for holding his wife back. But I could see his point, kids are a big project and if he didn't think he could keep the household together at least he was honest. And if you have kids shouldn't you be willing to sacrifice some things to have them? Nobody told anybody they had to have kids.

Very often working moms pull together and form a little clique at work. You hear them at lunch, clucking about their kids and sharing pictures and otherwise supporting one another. But there are other people at work, single people that I know of, who take care of elderly parents. They aren't forming little clique's, and nobody wants to see pictures. I don't hear continual complaints about how nobody understands them, or that the entire workforce needs to change to accommodate them. And having an elderly parent that needs care wasn't their decision, it was a responsibility hoisted onto them.

And finally I'd like point out that the person who has it the worst when a newborn is born, is the father who has a wife who has decided to stay at home, yet wants the husband to be her complete connection to the outside world. I have sat next to many a man who gets numerous phone-calls a day, I hear the poor man try to be nice, I know what he's dealing with at work and it's not pretty, yet he's got this whiny woman calling him 10 times a day. And I just know the woman on the other end is probably complaining to her mother, her sister and all the playtime mothers about how the husband doesn't understand this and that and how lucky he is that he gets to leave the house every morning. But I have seen the other side of it, the pain in the man's face when he is trying to be pleasant on the phone when he knows his boss is expecting him in a meeting, the tremendous pressure of having to keep earning a paycheck so the whiny wife and crying baby have a roof over their head and food to eat. And generally they do not complain, they do not have other fathers they are cliquish with, they just do it.

And I wonder why can't mothers be more like that?

Anna

Anna Karenina was the first book I read after college graduation. It just seemed the next logical step;

1. Graduate
2. Read Anna Karenina
3. Live the rest of life.

It took me six months. I had moved in with my father, step-mother, sister and half-brother and had no money and no ambition. Only a kind-of boyfriend, a job with a temp agency and a deep dis-satisfaction with everything.

I checked A.K. out of the local library. It was heavy, hard-back, with a protective clear plastic around the cover. It went everywhere with me, a page squeezed in here and there, an unusual dogged determination propelling me through the book.

I read during lunch break from my receptionist's job, at home in my temporary bedroom set up in my step-mother's guest room, on the metro.

I finished it, and it went back to the library along with a fair amount of late charges. No epiphanies had risen up to greet my poor lost self. No game plans for the rest of my life had been formulated. Only now I knew Anna, a woman who was deeply dis-satisfied with everything, with no way out. Trapped for all eternity.

It's time to read Anna K. again.

Another Morning

Another late morning getting ready for work. But it is Friday and that means I have almost completed 5 days, 40 hours, of earning my keep in this world.

Sir, please mark this down in my favor.

Working at the Vets

About 4 years ago now I started working every other Saturday at the veterinarian's office. Reception mostly, help hold animals, draw up some vaccines, and take some temperatures. I did it because I was miserable at my job (really? really) and thought the divergence would help give me a fresh perspective.

Four years on and I'm wondering if it is still worth it. The problem is, I can't say no. If I could just stick with the every other weekend thing I would be fine, but they keep asking me to fill in here and there, in the evenings and extra Saturdays.

It is killing me. And, to work the evenings I have to leave my regular job a little early. If I were a stellar employee otherwise this would not be a big deal, but, you know.

So this morning I am trying to pump myself up to be able to call the Dr. and ask her to cut back on the hours. Why can't I just blurt it out? I feel bad about it.

Party Completed

So I had been planning this party for about a month. It turned out real well. People came, seemed to have a good time, enjoyed the food and drink and there was copious conversation. Not as many people came as I had hoped, but, hey.

I even had tablecloths, candles, and white twinkling lights strung around.

I drank too many Margaritas and today have been feeding all day. There was something about the alcohol that sucked every nutrient out of my body, and it all needed to be replaced, today.

The dogs and I finished off the salmon dip together.

Everyone simply loves Zeva. Everybody says, "She's wonderful for a little dog." See, it just proves you can't judge a book by it's cover, or put much faith in stereotypes. She is a 5 pound chihuahua/dachschund mix and just so adorable and loving. Our big girl, Teyla, was very well-mannered throughout the evening, and stayed laying on the family room floor listening to the conversations. She is a gorgeous Belgian Shepherd and is the Audrey Hepburn of dogs. Beautiful eyes, petite, always a lady and her coat could not be anymore exquisite than if it had been designed by a top fashion designer.

Today husband and I watched TV all day. We watched "Talladega Nights". I appreciate that move more each time I see it. Every single scripted word is funny; there is no wasted time setting up jokes. That's pretty amazing.

Work hard next week, Me. Try to get alot done and earn the money you are paid. It's 5 days, you can do it.

When Fog is Good

I've been lost lately. Some things have been happening, and these happenings have distorted my sense of who I am. The little awareness I had. Tonight an 'I'm okay' feeling is rolling in like fog, and I need it to stick around. I need it until my mind can maintain a healthy atmosphere on it's own. When will that be?

Can't do it - Meaning Life as it Should be Done by the Good People

Last evening I went to Trader Joe's (the uppity grocery store), had to ask a clerk a question even, then went to the uppity beer store. Nobody at the beer store helped me, so I loaded 6 six packs, 3 bottles of wine and a party pack of beer into my trunk myself. I went to Shop Rite (the nice grocery store that just opened bringing things like 'almond milk' and such to my blue-collar enclave near Baltimore) to find some lamb because I wanted to make lamb kabobs this weekend.

I came home and cut my fresh flowers I had purchased and put them in vases around the house. I had a panic attack because I could not find my dusting stuff, which I still can't find. I wiped down and straightened up numerous surfaces, including the dining room table and buffet. I had to yell at the husband a few times to "come get his crap". It was go-go until the late hour of 10pm.

Now this morning I can barely move. My mind has frozen up. I know there are people out there who live like this every day, and do more! But I simply cannot do it.

Hey, I already knew all this about myself, but now it is documented in my blog. So when they have to do forensic analysis later they can read and nod, "Yep, yep, she definitely had X.".

Good-Bye Blue Jay Barrens

Removed the blog Blue Jay Barrens from my blog roll. It disappeared some weeks back, and I thought it was having technical problems. Alas, it has not reappeared. It was a great blog about nature, and trees and stuff. Really well written and terrific photographs. I'll miss it.

Considering Cause and Effect

How has what I have done, what I am doing, and what I will do in the future, effect the story of my life?

Is the story of my life tragic if it ends on a bad note, but there were highlights in the middle? Do I forgo certain opportunities in an attempt to steer my life towards a "happy ending"? The happy ending is not a certainty, however certain decisions have some statistically bad endings. I know about them, I've read about them. Avoiding these decisions, without having to commit them first to learn their certain tragic result, is called "wisdom". And making decisions that the common wisdom considers "bad" is called "foolishness".

Foolishness...fools...those that receive no mercy...

Appalled, and appalled some more

I'm appalled I did not win the 330 million mega-millions.

Today's mind flitted between wanting to end it all in dramatic fashion and believing itself to be the cleverest mind ever. Bad mind! Bad mind!

I'm overusing the words "weird" and "strange" at work. But everything IS weird and strange, so my generous use of the words will continue.

Work is something to endure. I will endure.

Sometimes I wonder if my only skill is the ability to make men want me enough to put up with all my other crap. I do have some wiles related to femininity that I will sling around when in a crisis.

8th avenue closed. One homeless guy killed another homeless guy and now it is not an option. Shit.

I wish things would get real bad. I can be extremely creative, assertive, and calm when things are bad. Things aren't that bad though, so I'm playing it safe and freaking out.

Sunday Afternoon

My favorite day is here again. I'm actually making fair progress on my "to do" list.  I watched "Little Miss Sunshine" on tv and cleaned during commercials. God I love that movie. There are certain movies I watch anytime they are on tv and that is one. Another is "40 Year Old Virgin".

Before "Little Miss Sunshine" today I watched "Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations". I love that show too. Yesterday there were multiple "No Reservations" on in a row, so I watched them while doing laundry. He goes to the ends of the earth, places no one else would go. And he can hang with the roughest crowds. I like him. He shows me places and people I will probably never get a chance to see and meet. I also thoroughly enjoy the parental warnings that are displayed after every commercial before "No Reservations" comes back on. Hilarious! A reminder of just how fucked up the modern world truly is. I'm not sure why the warnings are on his show, there was some incident, he said "fuck" or something like that.

I personally think the Indiana Jones' require a parental discretion warning. Those are movies that I recall hurting me deeply as a kid. In the first Indiana Jones' I loved Marion. To me, she was his partner, and an integral character to the movie. When the second move came out I was so excited to see Marion again. I remember brimming with anticipation as we sat in the dark theater. Then slowly the realization sunk in that there would be no Marion. She was not mentioned. She had been nothing. Women were forgettable and replaceable. I remember having a panicked feeling and gasping to keep sobs from exploding from me. It was torture to have to sit there and watch the whole movie. After that I hated Indiana Jones. I still get really upset when I see any reference to this trilogy.

I had a similar experience with "Star Wars" and Princess Leia. I kept expecting her to do something, get in there and fight. But she was a huge disappointment. And similar to IJ, after the second movie, I simply was not that interested any more.

After seeing "American Graffiti" I realized it is just George Lucas. He is an ass with very narrow vision.

3 New Years Ideas and an expansion on the third

1. I have a compost pile, with leaves, and kitchen scraps. Recently I turned it and steam came up. Yay!!!!!!

2. We have been discussing where to go on vacation this year. Indecision grips me. My wish is to be able to come to a decision and follow through on the plans.

3. My lack of social skills problem could be due to ADD. I don't know. This probably requires months more of research and scheduling a visit with the psychiatrist to conclude. I want to do that this year. At least explore it and see what comes of it.

Blather about number 3. above.
The more I look into ADD web-sites and read, the more I like it. It fits me. I'm reading the "Girl-ADD" book now. That is what the husband and I dubbed it. This came about because the husband said maybe he has ADD, and I said yes that could be a possibility, and suggested he read the book when I'm done. He said, but that is for women, and I'm a man. I said maybe he has girl-ADD and he is a unique medical case. We now discuss ADD using this term, in all seriousness.

So one thing I like about reading the ADD book is difficult for me to put into words. But I shall try. It is letting me accept who I am as I am, with the bad things, the frustrating things and all. Having a messy house, a messy desk, inability to maintain relationships over long-ish periods of time, my extreme phone phobias, the way I always start a job and everybody thinks I'm the greatest thing and then I slowly decline as I get bored with it into a big disappointment. That's all me. Me, me, me.

That I wear tags on new clothes until someone notices and tells me (I did this the other day and the co-worker appeared truly distraught that I had done this. I was at the printer and I said, "Oh thanks, I'll cut it off when I get back to me desk." Just as calm as can be. I've done this a bunch. Sometimes I have worn clothes all day with the store tags on them, thinking I would fix it when I got home, and still didn't cut the tags off. And wore them a few more times.)

I am the worst offender for leaving old lunches in the refrigerator at work. They pile up fast. I try to make sure I have left nothing in the work refrigerator when I leave on Friday's. But.... I recently told the refrigerator monitor that I am a problem lunch-leaver. So he knows. And now I don't have to feel ashamed about it. I used to really feel bad, because I would overhear the receptionist and the refrigerator monitor talking about "Who would leave this stuff in the refrigerator?!" and then I would be embarrassed to tell them it was chronically me, because I was one of the good guys. But I am now over that, mostly. I did put an empty coffee pot back on a hot burner and burned the bottom of the pot and overheard the receptionist bitching about what kind of irresponsible moron would do that....I didn't fess up to that one. I figured it would blow over. It's me, me me, it's all me. But people think of me as a nice, together person and I don't want to disappoint them.

So anyway, I'm trying to accept all that about me, and that makes me feel better and then not need Zoloft. Cause if I can't accept that stuff and let it get to me, I'll need it again. And I want to move forward, not backward.

It's all me, all the parts. I'm irresponsible, and late, and bad at dead-lines, and procrastinate, and have trouble starting projects, especially if I think they are dumb, unnecessary or boring. But much of the corporate world is dumb, unnecessary and boring. That's just how it goes.

I'm blathering, I'll go now. But it felt like a healthy blather!