Just a Nut

Home Alone

2009-07-13T22:39:00.003-04:00

So I'm at home all by myself this last weekend. In general I like having some quiet time to myself, but after a few days I realize it's exceptionally boring. I'm so used to hearing the tippity tap taping and the muttering that comes from somewhere to my left. Sure, the first night I blasted music she hates, took up the entire bed, and made sure to cook something she would have found repulsive. But it's not nearly as fun to do those things when I can't hear her grumbling about it.

So now I'm just waiting for her to come home and do all the things that annoy me. You really can't avoid being annoyed with someone when you live with them and so much of your life is wrapped around theirs.

For instance, she downs her food in record time and then stares at you while you eat like some kind of psychopath. It's creepy, and you're constantly wondering if something's on your face or in your teeth. She turns the channel to ESPN or something else exceptionally horrible or repetitive, and then leaves it there for hours. When we go to bed, she has to chat for at least 15 minutes. She's seen me all day and yet needs to have a chit-chat just as I'm about to nod off. I'm constantly being asked to go on a walk, which wouldn't be bad, except she has no concept of distance. She will walk you until your feet fall off and you're praying for death. And yet, I'm here, and I miss being annoyed.

"Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come." -- Lord Byron

You Win Some...

2009-06-16T10:52:00.007-04:00

Dear Contractor,

My loathing towards you knows no bounds. 2 days means 2 periods of 24 hours. It does not mean well over a week with no end in sight. A tranquilized lemur could have finished my kitchen remodel in this amount of time. When you arrive to work at 9 AM, you should work until a reasonable time. Leaving at 2 PM every day is not a reasonable time, especially after taking an hour and a half lunch. Saying, "I'm going to Home Depot for X" only to disappear for the rest of the day makes me want to take that exceptionally loud drill you have and encourage it to become acquainted with your truck.

Unfortunately, I know that your truck is currently in the shop. How do I know this, along with way to many details of your personal life? Oh that's right, you're always on your cell phone talking about them. Here's a tip for future reference: When you're dragging your feet on a job, try not to complain loudly on your cell phone that the auto shop is taking their sweet time with your truck after telling you that it will only take 2 days. How you cannot see the parallel boggles my mind. Saying, "It's been a week, that's costing me money" is idiotic considering *you* have forced me to eat out all freaking week.

It also helps if you don't have to hang the cabinets 6 times because you keep booching the same thing over and over. Yes, holes need to be made in the back splash for the outlets. So why oh why when you actually do remember to do it, do you put them in the wrong place? Why do I have to tell you that the drawers wont open? Doesn't it occur to you to check? Who the hell doesn't pull out the drawer immediately after putting it in? I know that's the very first thing I did when building my dressers from Ikea. And why, for the love of god are the doors on the cabinet under the sink at different heights and not flush? Perhaps that has something to do with their inability to close? Please, tell me you're blind or had some of the vast amounts of dust you've been creating in your eye. Because that's the only option other than being a totally incompetent boob.

Sincerely,
A very HUNGRY person

---------

While the above should have ruined my weekend, it didn't. I had a fantastic weekend. I took Saturday off in trade for a very late Sunday night. This means it seemed like I had Friday - Monday off apart from working over night on Sunday. It's a rare treat that Dina and I have so much time off at the same time.

Saturday was pride here in Boston. So we were able to see Kathy Griffin live. I can't believe how fun that was. I laughed for 2 hours straight and still smile just thinking about it.

Sunday we were able to catch Up in 3D. What a wonderful movie that is. I was particularly impressed that they didn't use any of the cheap 3D tricks like throwing things at you, yet made the 3d really effective. I also found myself a little teary eyed at the movie. Poor Dina was sniffling after the movie ended which always breaks my heart. Dina, unlike me, looks almost cute when crying because she gets these big teary eyes like a 4 year old. I, on the other hand, end up looking like a red faced snot factory. It's really unflattering to see my face contorted and the sniveling.

So while my kitchen is a total disaster and giant headache, the weekend made it seem unimportant. So now while I listen to a screeching saw, I just let my mind drift back to the weekend fun. It's the only thing keeping me out of jail and away from assault charges.

"Um miss, can I borrow something to measure this counter I just cut? I think it's too short." -- My Contractor

It's In The Mail

2009-06-02T03:04:00.004-04:00

Packing things to send away is always strange and slightly idiotic. The whole mess is only made worse when Dina joins me. We both have a tendency to go a bit overboard. Thankfully we use flat rate boxes and then just stuff the crap out of them.

For some reason, we are compelled to send things that I doubt anyone actually wants. Once I crossed the state line into Mass, I found myself suddenly sending people maple syrup. It didn't matter to me that they probably had no need, it was just something I couldn't stop myself from doing. Something happens to your brain when you live here, where you suddenly think maple is a crusade. You must promote maple, sing its praises, adore maple, worship at it's sappy bucket, and scorn any product with fake maple flavor. The cult of maple is all powerful. There's no resisting it, so you might as well not try. If I try, I fear I may find a sugar maple tree limb in my bed in the morning, or be attacked by the sap bucket in a dark alley.

Even if I can resist the temptation to send syrup, I get suckered into sending baked goods by Dina. She loves to bake, but what the hell do you do with 6 dozen cookies? I know! Pawn them off on anyone silly enough to give you their address. So there we were tonight baking away until 2am. It wouldn't be so bad if we hadn't decided to experiment. Just a note, peanut butter cookies using fresh chocolate peanut butter are not as spiffy as they sound. It was sad really.

I'm glad to say we finished all our boxes. At least this time there was no fire. (Dina doesn't let me play with that anymore). There was an unfortunate incident with a hot baking sheet and my hand. On the plus side, I can now rob a bank because I have no finger prints on one hand.

I'm just happy I remembered to slip some Spider-man stickers in with the birthday/mother's day/father's day box I sent to Arizona. Something tells me that compared to all of the things I sent to the adults, the 99 cent Spider-man stickers for my nephew will be the hit.

Here's hoping we all stumble across something small that makes us smile. We all need Spider-man stickers from time to time.

"Or don't you like to write letters. I do because it's such a swell way to keep from working and yet feel you've done something." -- Ernest Hemingway

Freeze

2009-05-19T03:06:00.009-04:00

On a whim I decided I needed to create a new profile image. Thankfully I found the penguin image to refer to, so that was a snap to get done. I thought for sure the penguin would be the difficult part. But no, it was the damn cactus that drove me nuts. I couldn't decide how to shade it, and then once I did I still didn't like it. I finally gave up because I just didn't want to look at it anymore. So there you have it, one penguin near an oddly shaded frozen cactus. See, even when not living in Arizona, the cactus are still the bane of my existence.

My apartment either has heat on, or AC. So after the horrible heat wave, the residents asked that the AC get kicked on. I was thrilled when they scheduled the switch for today, I hate being hot. Of course the very day that it gets turned on, the temperature outside plummets. As I type this, there is sure to be an icicle dangling from my nose. I'd check, but I lost feeling to my extremities a little while ago. So, I figured a new, yet cold, image was called for.

"Don't knock the weather. If it didn't change once in a while, nine out of ten people couldn't start a conversation." -- Frank McKinney Hubbard

Overdue

2009-05-12T01:02:00.004-04:00

So I've recently been reminded of something some total idiot wrote at some point. This person clearly had no concept of the scale of their idiocy. It's just a shame that I had to be that idiot.

So when this glass shatters
and the tint falls away
I'll stand with shaking heart
with irrational hope
that answers will come
this fear is unwarranted
this courtship of friendship
can survive
a shattered illusion

"It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend." -- William Blake

4 years

2009-05-06T20:05:00.004-04:00

What is the 4 year anniversary? (Ok it's not really 4 years, but we've known each other for 4 years). This is the question I asked Dina and the answer was, "I believe it's jpeg". The woman can sniff out digital camera gadgetry from 6 blocks away. No matter what store we're in we will have to go and look at them. She calls it "nerding". It really doesn't matter to me because we always walk out of there without buying anything.

So, imagine my surprise when I found out the 4th year is supposed to be fruit or flowers. If I came home with either of those she'd look at me as if I'd just sprouted a tulip for a head. But, I then found a site that had modern anniversary gifts. Apparently it's the appliance anniversary. She'd agree that a new vacuum would be far more romantic. She's a loon.

It's all moot, we're not actually married. However 4 years is still a long time, and we need a new vacuum.

"There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort." -- Jane Austen

Just Jammin'

2009-04-18T16:16:00.000-04:00

This really is quite incredible and I've been jamming to it all afternoon. I'm thinking I'll be needing to pick up the album.

Playing For Change | Song Around The World "Stand By Me" from Concord Music Group

"No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid. Just as long as you stand, stand by me" -- Ben E. King

Nyquil

2009-04-11T22:16:00.000-04:00

Ugh, I don't feel good. But then, I never feel good when I get home from a trip. I always seem to get sick 30 seconds after the plane lands. Thankfully I don't get sick on vacation, that would be even worse.

So I'm stuck at home wishing my cold medicine would kick in before Dina gets home. If not she'll be tempted to get a funnel and pour fluids into me. Her cure for every sickness is fluids and lots of them. She'll even spy on you to make sure you're drinking enough. I've actually had to sneak off and pour my drink in a nearby plant. Hopefully she won't tie the mysterious plant death to me, I was sure to cover my tracks.

When I get sick I get depressed. So I end up sitting there thinking of all the what if questions. What if I had handled things differently? What if I had made a different choice here or there? What if I could go back in time and change something...

A what if only brings about more questions. It gives you a strange false sense of hope that you can change the past. I can't, and all the cold medicine in the world won't make me delusional enough to think I can. It will however make daytime television infinitely more interesting.

"Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died." -- Erma Bombeck

Swag

2009-04-03T21:49:00.000-04:00

I'm currently drooling over some T-shirts from Three Rings. I'm a sucker for an interesting T shirt. By far my favorite is this one. When you start in Whirled you're just a little tofu. So the curd happens just tickles me.

We'll also be getting some mugs to add to the nerdy mug collection. What can I say, I just can't help myself. It's always good to celebrate your tofu roots.

"Doing nothing is very hard to do...you never know when you're finished." -- Leslie Nielsen

On The Road Again

2009-03-30T23:49:00.002-04:00

It hasn't been all that long, yet here I am home again. I think mom was missing me because it was rather short notice. Thankfully my job allows me to come for a visit whenever possible. Of course she claimed that she wanted me there for my nephew's birthday. Hey, it's as good an excuse as any. Besides, mom arraigned for him to have a Shetland pony, Mosey, give some rides. Apparently a woman she knows has a rescued pony and often takes the disabled children my mom deals with at work on rides.

So as usual I went overboard. It's crazy how much I like this little guy. He's just such a sweet happy boy. You can't be around him and not feel happy just to watch him. He's become the center of the world, as he should be. So when I come I naturally bring books and other goodies. He has a thing for stickers, so I always make sure to have a pack or two.

He loved the pony, he was just scared to ride it. So instead he lead it around by a rope while his friends rode. Of course as soon as the pony was put back into the trailer, he wanted his ride. Thankfully the wonderful woman brought Mosey back out for him.

He may not remember this birthday since it's only his third, but there's no way that I forget his smile. There's no way I forget his bear hug and the big growl he uses just for me. Well granted that's because I told him that giving big hugs meant you had to growl. As a side note, I also taught him where his parents put the batteries for some of his more obnoxious toys. His parents can thank me later.

"You make 'em, I amuse 'em." -- Dr. Theodore Seuss

Bah Love Bug

2009-02-15T04:58:00.001-05:00

I've always hated Valentine's Day. I'm forever thankful that I'm with someone who thinks it's just as silly. I firmly believe that you should do those little things on normal days if you really want to show someone you care. I think she agrees because it's not uncommon for her to come home with a Dunkie iced tea for me for no reason at all.

However, we're not stupid, we celebrate the day after Valentine's Day with a passion, it's half off chocolate day! Now *that* is worth a celebration.

"Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie." -- Jim Davis

Year One Down

2009-02-04T18:15:00.003-05:00

It's been one year. A whole year where half was spend getting biweekly updates about chemo treatments and radiation. Then another half of a year where my mother redefined tired. And yet, somehow she went to work every day but 4 days. She managed to see her grandson at least twice a month and nag me from across the country. A year of my dad being a shining example to all husbands on how to be supportive and take care of everything. It was a year that I really learned how much I care about my entire family. I'm glad it's over, but not as glad as I was today when I heard mom's tests were clean.

I can't wait for this year.

"When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on." -- Franklin D. Roosevelt

Furry Face

2009-01-23T03:09:00.002-05:00

Good writing touches you, makes you connect to it, and allows you to feel something. At times it comes from places I wouldn't expect. There's an ESPN writer that Dina reads. At one point she sent me a link to an article he wrote about his dog. Anyone whose ever had an animal can relate. By the end, I wiped away the tears and had an overwhelming urge to call my dad to ask about the puppy of doom. I miss my puppy, but I know she's happy where she is.

Leaving her in Tucson wasn't easy, yet I knew it was the best thing. She'd gotten used to dad and he, in his retirement, made her his best friend. I hate when leaving something you love behind is the best choice. Thankfully she remembers me. Each time I visit she climbs up me in an effort to sit on my shoulders. Though now she generally ends up laying on my chest.

"If you are a dog and your owner suggests that you wear a sweater... suggest that he wear a tail." ~Fran Lebowitz

Make Way

2009-01-17T03:10:00.000-05:00

Boston drivers make driving a contact sport. As soon as you buckle in you know you're flirting with danger. Sure, every city claims they have crappy drivers, but there really is no comparison. They have their hands glued to the horn, which is good because it helps to move people out of the way when you're driving on the sidewalk or cutting off a cop. I literally cannot drive for more than 10 mins without saying the phrase, "Holy shit, what a *insert colorful language*".

I always thought I was an average driver if not above average. Of course we all think that which is clearly why there are so many accidents. But I'm the stooge that allows people in before me and uses that odd invention, the turn signal. I even know how to merge. Merging alone sets me apart from everyone in Mass. They are physically incapable of speeding up to be able to merge into traffic without forcing every car on the road to slam on their breaks and the horn.

So you can imagine my shock when I watched these inconsiderate Massholes (as I fondly refer to them) stop at a traffic circle, aka death trap, to allow a meandering gaggle of geese to cross. Not one person honked, gave a finger, or cursed. One even smiled! I couldn't believe it, I almost had to check that I hadn't inadvertently crossed the state line.

It just proves that there's always time to stop and smell the roses... or smell the geese.

"Patience is something you admire in the driver behind you and scorn in the one ahead." -- Mac McCleary

Riddle Me This

2009-01-04T04:46:00.000-05:00

I've recently had the urge to write, or at least be creative in someway. I really don't know what's brought it on... well yes I do, I just don't know what to do about it.

Figuring out what to do about something is always harder than finding the problem. I could always try poking in Flash and making something for Whirled. For whatever reason, I'm more comfortable doing that. Perhaps the more geek there is in something, the higher the comfort level?

"I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn't say any other way - things I had no words for." -- Georgia O'Keeffe

A Big Wheel Knocked on the Door

2008-12-27T05:28:00.002-05:00

Holidays are so much better when there's a child getting presents. As you get older you forget how much fun ripping paper is, or hell how much fun playing in an empty box is. But kids remind you of all these things the moment they giggle and dive right into playing with the gift they got. The hug you get when they say thank you is even better.

I think I went a little over bored, but I dare anyone to blame me. You try resisting the impulse to get one more truck for the cutest boy on Earth before pointing fingers. Thankfully he's almost 3 so the toys aren't all that expensive. He's thrilled with a $1 finger puppet.

Anyway, my family likes to save big gifts and give them in goofy ways. So this year as presents were over a mysterious doorbell rang.

Riley: "Omeone's at da door!"
Me: "I think it's for you..." Who cares that it's the back door we're pointing at?
Riley: "No, Daddy gets doors cuz mailmen bring bills." Makes perfect sense, who wants those?
Me: "I'll come with you." We then go to the door and a red and yellow Big Wheel waiting with a big bow on it.
Riley: "Woah!"
Me: "I think it's for you, let's bring it in." We brought it inside and he just stared at it."
Riley: "That's not a bill Daddy!" If it were, I'd want bills like that.
His dad: "No, it's a Big Wheel and all yours." He then showed him how to get on it and they rode around the living room a bit. For the rest of the night at random points he'd just say, "Big wheel rang da door bell."

"Life is like riding a bicycle - in order to keep your balance, you must keep moving." -- Albert Einstein

Leavin On a Jet Plane

2008-12-16T15:53:00.002-05:00

Thankfully I do know when I'll be home again (3 weeks). However, Dina's already pouting about how long I'll be gone. It just makes sense to make the vacations long to get the most bang for my buck. I don't have to worry about missing work since it goes with me. However I can't help but feel for her. I always get lonely when I'm left home alone. Well lonely after the first night where I drink a bottle of wine and watch a horrible B movie while taking up the whole bed.

I've been homesick and looking froward to seeing mom, the nephew, my puppy, and the rest of the clan. However, I'm going to miss sleeping next to the wiggling lump that insists on scooting back so her back is against me. We could be in a bed the size of Nantucket and she'd still wiggle back to squish me.

It's too bad she couldn't come, but with a new job starting, that's not really possible. I'm sure by the first night she will build a fake me out of pillows. Let's face it... I wouldn't have it any other way.

"If people were meant to pop out of bed, we'd all sleep in toasters." -- Author unknown, attributed to Jim Davis

Dancin In The Chair

2008-12-07T09:35:00.002-05:00

I've said it before and I'll say it again: If I couldn't sit here listening to music blasting while working, it's quite possible I'd have to quit after giving myself a concussion from whacking my head against the keyboard repeatedly. As it is, it's common to see me hurl a kooshball or paper ball at the monitor.

However, occasional frustration aside, I love my job. Any job where you can be barefoot is a keeper. Plus I'm constantly finding myself laughing hysterically at something someone said.

Below is an example of our typical pointless conversation:

Coworker A: "Crap, not snow again!"
Coworker B: "What is this white stuff that you speak of?"
Coworker A: "It's cold bits of ice falling from the sky!"
Coworker C: "You have slushies falling from the sky! Yum! What flavor?"
Coworker A: "They come in plain, plain, and road salt"
Coworker C: "I guess cherry is too much to ask for then."

My mother often worries that working at home will turn me into some type of hermit. I'm already half hermit anyway, so there's really no further I could sink into this. Yet I feel connected to people because I'm constantly chatting online. But I can see her point really. I've recently been thinking about friends who've left my life and the reasons for it. In doing so, I realize again why I'm a bit of a hermit. It may just be better that way.

"When humor goes, there goes civilization." -- Erma Bombeck

Crafty Eats

2008-11-19T03:54:00.000-05:00

I think I'm getting old. I actually allowed myself to be convinced to learn to crochet. Worse yet, we have a weekly meet-up (aka cook 'n hook) at our apartment with Dina, Lisa, and myself. On the one hand, at least this is more social than the computer. On the other hand, I'm not eighty. So every Wednesday we sit there playing with yarn and watching Top Chef. Sometimes we even bake, which Dina is always up for.

I actually enjoy it more than I thought I would. I get off later than either so they both arrive from work while I'm still puttering away at the keyboard. I'm not sure if I love the easy conversation and the mocking of the people on the television, or the routine. It's so nice to have a standing appointment for some silly downtime that doesn't include a computer.

"What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul." -- Yiddish Proverb

California, Seriously?

2008-11-05T17:46:00.002-05:00

I generally avoid politics in blog postings because I can't imagine I'll ever feel the need to be reminded about the horror show that is politics. However, I cannot believe California of all states is so monumentally ridiculous. Rather than write some diatribe that will either fall on deaf ears or be preaching to the choir, I figured I'd just link to someone whose already summed up my opinion quite nicely.

From Memo to California By Dana Claire Simpson. It was written by the same person who did a wonderful web comic called Ozy and Millie.

"There's also the sheer idiocy of a ballot initiative process that allows constitutional amendments to be introduced by absolutely anyone and pass by a simple majority vote. The entire point of constitutional government is to prevent passing whims of the electorate to be enshrined in stone if they cross certain lines, and to protect vulnerable minorities from the tyranny of the majority. You know, like protecting, oh, say, gay people from the panicky whims of idiots who listen to Mormons."

"All of us who are concerned for peace and triumph of reason and justice must be keenly aware how small an influence reason and honest good will exert upon events in the political field." -- Albert Einstein

Waste of Time

2008-10-30T01:04:00.000-04:00

I've always had a fascination with silly Flash games. This particular little game has just tickled me to no end. It's in Whirled and called Corpse Craft. When you enter whirled, just click on games at the top.

I'm not really sure why I like these little ways to kill time. Perhaps it's a bit telling about me that I'd rather click quietly on a computer than go out to a club. I'm just not sure if I want to know exactly what it's saying about me.

"Our whole life is solving puzzles." -- Erno Rubik

Fun Fact

2008-10-13T00:37:00.002-04:00

Bees will create a nest anywhere. So in the future, if your car mirror stops working, don't just go grabbing for it to correct it. That might be your first instinct, I know it was mine, but think of the bees. They lurk in the shadows waiting for their moment to pounce. Who cares if it's an idiotic place for them to live, perhaps they enjoy a little speed. They're the daredevils of insects!

You really never will be more scared then when you reach out and a flood of them come storming out pissed that you disturbed them. Take it from me, just live with a broken mirror. You don't need to see what's behind you anyway, for all you know there are more bees.

"I discovered I scream the same way whether I'm about to be devoured by a Great White or if a piece of seaweed touches my foot." -- Kevin James

Web Comics

2008-10-02T16:51:00.001-04:00

I really love a web comic called Real Life. It seriously makes me giggle and half the time it hits the nail on the head for me. The following is an exact conversation I had with Dina no more than two days ago. (Click on the image to make it larger.)

This comic is nerdy, adorable, and full of awesome. If you have a chance, I really recommend reading it. You'll want to start at the beginning, but it's well worth it. If you look closely, you'll even catch a few mentions of Puzzle Pirates.

"Procrastination isn't the problem, it's the solution. So procrastinate now, don't put it off." -- Ellen DeGeneres

Hopeless

2008-09-16T17:14:00.000-04:00

It's too late, it's over. I've now officially fallen victim to the evils of the interwebs and technology. I expect the sky to fall or my mother to call and shame me at any moment. I don't mean that I work online from home, that's acceptable. I'm not worried that many of my friends only communicate with me via typing; that's common. I don't even mean that I met my girl friend in an online video game. That's nerdy, but not a crime. No, it's worse and yet I'm unapologetic. I, in my incredible wisdom and laziness, ordered my grocery online. And you know what? It was fantastic!

"It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity." -- Albert Einstein

What Time Is It?

2008-09-13T16:08:00.001-04:00

Ever since my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, we've ended phone conversations by saying, "I love you." We'd never really done that before. While I always knew my parents cared, we were never the touchy feely type. I don't like the reasons for it, but I think I like this change.

She's doing well and going to work every day. I don't know why really, I'd love to see her take some time off to recover. Hell I wish she took time off when doing her treatments. Perhaps her way of dealing with it is to keep moving. At this point, whatever it takes is fine by me.

I'm a bit homesick at the moment. Time's funny that way. It wasn't too long ago that I really just wanted to leave, and now I'm sitting here wishing I was back. I think I just wish I could check for myself that everything is still ok. Biweekly phone calls really don't cut it. I'd also get the added bonus of nephew time.

I don't know when the next visit will be, but I sure plan on enjoying my time there. Time is important, I want to make sure that from now on I take it when I can.

"Time! the corrector when our judgments err." -- Lord Byron

The Nose Knows

2008-09-09T09:39:00.000-04:00

So we see a bumper sticker, "You can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friends nose." Little did I know this was going to give Dina ideas.

The next morning I'm woken up with her inches from my face getting ready to stick her finger up my nose.

Me: "Um sweetie? What the hell are you doing?"
Her: "I'm going to try something out?"
Me: "You are NOT going to pick my nose!"
She sticks it right up there.
Me: "Ack! That's disgusting!"
Her: "No that's love. I'm still here aren't I?"

And she is. However I now sleep with one eye open.

"Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly." -- Proverb

It's Love

2008-09-05T02:54:00.002-04:00

They way to a geek's heart is through their gadgetry, forget the stomach. It took very little convincing to get me to agree to suck it up and buy a new computer. Working online from a tiny travel laptop was probably going to make me go blind. So while I cannot afford the computer I want, I can easily afford something that's far better than what I have, and yet still not to much that I cannot replace it in a year or two. Thus off we went to tax-free New Hampshire.

As with every outing, Dina's motivated by where we eat. She already knew exactly where we would eat before we hit the road. Do we look up computers and do some comparison shopping? Nope. But don't worry, we have the restaurant question nailed down. What kind of weird priorities do we have?

After we ate (see our priorities?), we proceeded to go back and forth to the same stores over and over again to try to save some minuscule amount. In the end, at this point in time, there's not a ton of difference when you really think about it. Sure you have to ignore total crap brands, but for what I do with a computer, I certainly don't need something that can run a nuclear attack sub. It took a while but I walked out of there with a brand new middle-of-the-road-entirely-forgettable-mediocre computer!

So while the computer doesn't need to last, I figured a monitor could. I also am sick of not having anything nice, and I've spend quite a lot of time saving for a good one. I'm in love. This thing is 22 inches of pure Samsung love. I wanted to cuddle it in the car on the way home, but the mocking look and rolling eyes from the driver dashed those hopes.

If you don't hear from me for a while, I ran off with Sammy, the monitor of wonder...

"Lo! Men have become the tools of their tools." -- Henry David Thoreau

Cardboard Boxes

2008-08-28T22:13:00.000-04:00

I think the worst part about moving is unpacking. I'm sitting here looking at the boxes knowing I don't want to do it. The wine alone will take up a whole wall. As a side note, we really have to drink some of that. While I love our wine trips to Napa and New York, we actually should crack open a bottle once in a blue moon.

Part of the problem is to unpack we first have to deal with our new furniture. We were smart and moved some of our new furniture unassembled and still in their Ikea boxes. So that's 3 dressers, 2 bookshelves, 2 cubby bookshelves, a kitchen buffet, and two table desks. How the hell am I going to put these together. I don't care if we have an electric screwdriver, this shit is impossible to deal with.

So I thought I'd get started on the bookshelves. My first issue was all the pieces and screws are in a blister pack. Blister packs are evil contraptions invented by psychotics in an effort to bring frustration to consumers. So while I violently poked at it, it flung open scattering all the screws and tiny nails everywhere.

A good part of the afternoon was spent on my hands and knees. After that, I found myself preforming minor feats of gymnastics to hold things while I screwed them together. Dina was back in Amherst cleaning the condo so it could be ready for its open house, so it was just me. Just so you know, when they say 2 people are required to build something, they mean it. Of course it would have gone smoother had all the pages of the instructions been there.

Anyway after 3 hours later we had one finished, though oddly leaning, bookshelf. I've never been so proud of creating something so wobbly.

"The 50-50-90 rule: Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there's a 90% probability you'll get it wrong." -- Andy Rooney

29 2/2

2008-07-21T22:36:00.000-04:00

Her: "Happy Birthday... you're thir...!"
Me: Holds up a hand. "Don't even say it. I'm 29 and 2 halves."
Her: Looks perplexed as her logical mind tries to find an argument to refute my claim. "Ok, but then I have no wrinkles *and* you admit to a gray hair."
Me: Sighs. "Do I get chocolate cake?"
Her: "Of course."
Me: "It's a deal, Beelzebub."

"Beware of the young doctor and the old barber." -- Benjamin Franklin

Movin' On Up

2008-07-18T10:35:00.001-04:00

I hate packing. Why do we have all this crap? I'm incredibly grateful that I was able to sucker Dina into getting movers so I don't have to lug this junk. I've tried to thin it out since we're moving from a condo in Amherst to an apartment in Brookline, but I failed miserably. I just look at whatever it is and think, "Well I could use this again.... You never know when you need a 9th cutting board".

I've never lived in a city, so this is going to be quite the change. I already know I'm going to miss the beauty and joy that is parking. I've been assured that grocery stores do have lots so I don't have to find a way to bring home food on the T. But still, I have to wonder if I'm going to go half nuts. If there's a news story about some naked crazy lady holding the T hostage while rocking herself and whimpering about there being too many people... you'll know it's me. However, if you do read this article, please bring the bail money and a towel.

"Nothing endures but change." -- Heraclitus

Say What?

2008-07-02T01:27:00.000-04:00

How people behave online amazes me. While working I'm constantly wondering how these people function in the real world. I don't understand why someone would present themselves like an idiot, or enjoy being a jerk. Anonymity brings out some strange things in people. I've started to think that it amplifies traits you already have. So a jerk will be an even bigger jerk in that type of environment.

I've come across people who will literally waste hours of their life repeatedly being a jerk to only find themselves right where they started again. You're wasting both of our time, but at least I'm paid for it. Then there's the overly sensitive person who will be crushed because someone called them "mean". How did you make it through kindergarten? I was called far worse on the monkey bars.

Just because people don't know it's you, doesn't mean you're not aware. If you don't mind that you act like a jerk just because they're not looking at your face, they don't need to see your face to see the real you.

"The Internet is just a world passing around notes in a classroom." -- Jon Stewart

Wait And See

2008-06-15T04:30:00.000-04:00

With surgery, radiation, and chemo winding down, I can't help but be somewhat reassured. She did very well with her treatments, even if I wish she had taken more time off work than the day after her treatment. Apparently that's the day it hit her the most and she considered the "bad day". In her words, "She just keeps on truckin' on". Perhaps that's the most important thing any of us can do, just keep going.

Thankfully as my mom is truckin' my dad has been a nice backseat driver. He's taken over everything and gone to every single appointment. With the beard he grew when he retired he now looks like a big gray grizzly trailing after her. He's what I'd want to be if I had to help someone through this, and exactly what I'd need if I were in mom's shoes. I'm proud of them both.

Now we wait. The waiting doesn't really end. We'll always be waiting for the next checkup or milestone. There's the first clean test, the first year...etc. However I have no doubt she'll continue truckin', and my dad will be in the passenger seat with the road map.

"Courage is being scared to death... and saddling up anyway." -- John Wayne

Addiction

2008-06-14T06:44:00.000-04:00

It's obvious I have an addictive personality. This is why I was a smoker, though thankfully that hasn't been the case for a few years. However, while I can break the nicotine habit, I cannot seem to break the caffeine or silly time waster video game habit.

This is why I was in "Dunkie" or Dunkin' Donuts at some obscene time of night. They have brewed iced tea, not that fake powder crap. It calls me to in all its bitter glory. So you can get a cup of it that's the size of a small Norwegian village for less than $2.50. Just don't ruin it with sugar or a lemon, that will only create seeds for you to accidentally suck up through the straw.

This brings me to my fear of bubble tea. Everyone seems to love this stuff, but it boggles my mind. These little gummy balls come shooting up the straw ready to coke you to death. Yes, even iced tea addiction can kill. No thanks, just give me my giant Dunkie.

So while I was waiting in line I looked over at a little Christmas tree they had on display. The ornaments were little packets of sugar substances glued to paperclips. Of course I went to get a closer look at this work of "art". If you know me at all you know what happened.

It really wasn't my fault! Who puts a tree on a wobbly table and then props it up with a few books? Worse yet, who decorates with little packets that are prone to ripping?

As I sat there sprawled across the floor covered in sugar packets and fake pine needles I looked up to see a lovely young police officer trying not to laugh. "Oh sorry officer, I cannot tell a lie, I did chop down the Splenda tree."

I made it home safe and sound to conquer the digital seas of Puzzle Pirates armed with my tea.

"You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me." -- C.S. Lewis

Snooping

2008-06-01T21:38:00.001-04:00

There's something incredibly personal and invasive about condo shopping. We know we want to move to Boston, but we're not sure if buying a condo is a better idea than renting. However, we're learning more and more towards renting. So we've been going around with a Realtor looking at places. I actually enjoy doing this, but Dina would rather be yodeling in the reflecting pool at the mall naked.

What I don't understand about the whole process are the owners of these buildings. Sure most of them look rather nice and the owners clearly made an effort to show the best side of their place. However the exceptions can be almost scary. Below is a list of things that you as a seller should avoid. I've now seen each at and can honestly say it's probably not the impression you want to leave potential buyers.

- Remove the broken air conditioning unit from the living room. While you're at it, get rid of the bucket catching water in the bed room.

- Put the man eating dog/monster in his own room. At the very least give him something to gnaw on other than the unsuspecting home buyers.

- If you had fish for dinner last night, take out the trash. At the very least don't leave the half-eaten carcass on the floor.

- If you have 20+ cats, please leave a window open. At the very least, remove the litter trays in the middle of each room that haven't been cleaned since the Hoover administration.

- Sex toys are fun, and perfectly normal. However, hanging them from a moving ceiling fan is just creepy. Why are they there? Can the ceiling fan even hold your weight?

- Put away the shackles attached to your bed. Handcuffs are one thing, shackles are another. Or perhaps you should limit it to one pair, not 3. Maybe I can introduce you to the person above?

The key to selling your home should really be: Remove things that would make the average buyer cringe.

"I'm not going to vacuum until Sears makes one you can ride on." -- Roseanne Barr

Sleepless in MA

2008-05-16T03:47:00.000-04:00

I have an amazing ability to ignore or compartmentalize things. It's as if I can turn the lights off in one area and almost forget that it's there. It's not until late at night that I think about those dark places that I've ignored or otherwise refused to deal with. Most do this to some extent, but I think I've taken it to exceptional heights. For me this means that I often don't deal with something until it's too late.

We like to think we're a good person, but I think my above tendency can make me somewhat less than good. I mean if you're constantly closing doors and turning out lights, you'll eventually be rather lonely and living in one room. I've thought about venturing out to take a peak in places I've tried to avoid, but at this point it's been so long I have to wonder if any good can come of it.

Maybe my mom's struggle has made me want to have more people around and chase away this lonely feeling. Perhaps I'm homesick and wishing I could go back to Tucson to be with mom. Maybe I'm just getting older. Either way, it's not going to change tonight.

"Each of us is something of a schizophrenic personality, tragically divided against ourselves." -- Martin Luther King, Jr

Unfinished

2008-04-26T01:39:00.000-04:00

I've been randomly poking various online sites to look up people I knew way back when. I think this makes me a stalker... all be it a rather pathetic and harmless one. How can you not feel like a total dork when you say, "Um hi you may not remember me but..." No matter what you say after that, you're looking like a goofball. At least for me this just gives them a very good idea about who they're dealing with. :-p

So this brings me to my total dislike for all that is MySpace. First of all you can't tell who the hell anyone is. I don't want to go about randomly friending people, I want to know who they heck they are. When looking up people from ten years ago and all you can see is "Bob" and a microscopic picture. How do you know who that is? So you have to send them an even dumber letter because you're not even sure who they are. This is why I love Facebook. Sure it's ultra spammy, but it gives me all I need from MySpace, and allows me to be totally lazy and see the WHOLE name of the person I'm looking at. Please all, embrace the lazier site... embrace the site that doesn't make you listen to the random song someone has left up for 7 months.

Time For Change

2008-04-10T19:53:00.001-04:00

That's right, a new job! Ah, but this isn't any job, this is a "man, it sure would be fun to do that" kind of job. I'm thrilled really because I can do this job from anywhere. This means I can fly home for nephew time at any point. It also has the added bonus of being rather fun.

I had been lusting after this job in a rather unattractive way. I was almost a bit obsessed and had done quite a lot of extra work to prove myself. Poor Dina had to sit there and listen to me second guess every single thing. I felt like I was walking on eggshells worried that one wrong move would remove me from eligibility.

At least now Dina gets a vacation from my insanity... well perhaps not. But she at least doesn't have to hear me say, "Can you read this over and tell me what you think" for at least a month.

"Doing nothing is very hard to do...you never know when you're finished." -- Leslie Nielsen

Life's a Joke

2008-03-28T05:45:00.002-04:00

I clearly learned that joking helps you ease some of life's curve balls from my mother. I know she's worried, but she's prepared to move on through each little treatment and session of chemo rather than worry about the big picture.

So what do we talk about? Our fears? Nope. We talk about what hats she should wear when she doesn't have hair. She's convinced that her head has a funny shape so she'll need something equally amusing. I think bigger is the way to go, but she's convinced it should be more original than just giant. It must be floppy and perhaps have some LED lights in it. So now I'll need to troll the interwebs looking for a hat that's giant, floppy, and blinking.

"I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol." -- Author Unknown

Bata Baby

2008-03-25T21:37:00.008-04:00

The brave new Whirled is now accessible by the public as it's gone into its beta testing phase. While still in development, it sure gives a good idea for the potential of this Whirled. Love live the curd and tofu goodness!

Below is the corner of the Whirled belonging to Three Rings. It's actually their offices so you can clearly see what kinda kooks work there. Who else would have a giant octopus couch, pool table, full bar, and secret room hidden behind a bookshelf?

My Whirled is actually only accessible by friends, so you'd need to join (link in the Notable Pokeables) and friend me. You'll note that even in a fake world, my plants are always dieing.

"It's a Brave New Whirled!" -- Daniel James

Wonder Boy

2008-03-22T05:21:00.000-04:00

I have the most adorable nephew. I know that people say that and we all roll our eyes because everyone says this. But believe me it's true. He's almost 2 and is quite possibly the cutest child I've ever seen. He's actually just always so sunny, happy, and more surprisingly clean!

I've decided he's going to be an engineer. I know I'm supposed to allow him to decide such things, but I'm selfish. This kid can figure out anything. I've had to ask him how to turn on some of his toys and he gives me this, "oh your so silly look". Well at least I hope that's the look rather than, "My aunt is a total moron".

I was able to tie my visit to my mom with his birthday. I feel it's my duty to spoil him rotten, which to mean means books books and more books. Unfortunately, there are some horrible children's books out there. What are these people thinking? Stringing together incoherent thoughts does not a book make. No thank you, I'll be buying him the classics. So look out world, make way for my duckling!

"There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million." -- Walt Streightiff

Hair Today

2008-03-14T04:14:00.000-04:00

There's a lot of things you're really not prepared to hear. I wasn't prepared to hear that my mom had breast cancer. The big C is something we all fear in some way. Perhaps that's why we really know so little about it. We know it's bad, we know it will change everything, but we still know nothing.

Apparently there are several different kinds of cancer and what kind will determine the course of treatment. I can't believe I ever found myself hoping my mom had any type of cancer, but ever since I found out, we've been hoping it was one kind over another. Suffice it to say, we didn't get what we hoped for really. It could have been worse, sure, but we were hoping to avoid chemo. This means after her surgery there will be chemo and radiation. This whole process will take months and then far longer to recover enough to feel "normal".

So I can only hope that her treatment goes well and that she doesn't experience some of the side effects. I could care less if she has no hair, but it's everything else that worries me. I'm glad I'm going home soon just to reconnect so I can feel a little more secure in everything. It will also be nice to show mom that I'm only a flight away.

"Courage is being afraid but going on anyhow." -- Dan Rather

DE Phone Home

2008-02-19T02:47:00.001-05:00

There's a very specific tone of voice a person gets when the conversation isn't going to be one you like. It's almost like they're grabbing the armrest and preparing for an emergency water landing. My mom had that tone of voice, and I immediately assumed I had screw something up. In the past that would've been a pretty good assumption.

Frankly I wish I had screwed something up. That I can be ready for, that doesn't suck the air from your lungs and leave you searching for something to say that either expresses your feelings or reassures. She was scared, something I really haven't heard before that I can recall. I found myself asking the appropriate questions, but really I don't know how I managed.

At some points, my relationship with my parents has been rather rocky. But I'm quite glad to say that isn't really the case anymore, and I actually quite enjoy visits and phone calls. I find myself quite proud of all of us. After that phone call, I found myself even more proud of my parents. I won't need to have a pink ribbon to show my mom my support, I'll be calling and visiting as much as possible to make that very clear.

"Sooner or later we all quote our mothers." -- Bern Williams

Head Shoulders Knees

2008-02-03T03:39:00.000-05:00

It's been 2 years since I hurt my knee and I can't believe how much it can still hurt. Even thinking about running outside to wave to Dina only to step off the stoop onto a tiny patch of ice gives me the creeps. I just keep remember reaching down to grab my knee and feeling it bent the wrong way. I wanted my mother more then than I ever have.

I'm forever grateful that Dina saw me and stopped. Had she not, I have no idea how long I would have been there. But the nice thing is that I know she will always stop. If I decide to have surgery to replace the severed ACL and clean up the joint, I have no doubt she will be there handing me my crutches. She'll bring me some fluffy fiction, chocolate cake, and a ice tea. She'll do this all while holding my hand and making me laugh about something stupid. While I often joke and call her cranky pants, it's so nice to know she's there.

It's been a long time since I felt like the other shoe wasn't going to drop. She's already seen my shoes and gone with me to the store to buy more.

"Anyone who believes the competitive spirit in America is dead has never been in a supermarket when the cashier opens another checkout line." -- Ann Landers

Soul Mate

2008-01-29T22:17:00.001-05:00

The phrase soul mate gets tossed around constantly. It's in every trashy book I read with vigor, and every B romantic comedy. I have found my soul mate, and I don't even feel cheesy in saying so.

My soul mate is wonderful bringing me both a sense of comfort and a salty tang. It's tomato goodness coats everything bringing me unimaginable joy. My dear ketchup, the most important of all condiments, I shall never forsake you.

Sure, we have fights like all soul mates, but we forgive and move on. I've all ready forgiven my love for covering me head to toe in the middle of a restaurant. I shouldn't have shaken you so vigorously, I was wrong. It's just a shame that innocent bystanders also had to rinse you out of their hair. It's ok because we forgive. I didn't need that shirt or my new jacket, it's not your fault some careless fool took you for granted and didn't screw your top on the way you like. My clothes, our table, and all the people near by have already forgiven you... for we will be reaching for you again as soon as the next basket of fries arrives.

"Those who forget the pasta are condemned to reheat it." -- Author Unknown

Creative Waste of Time

2008-01-21T16:12:00.000-05:00

I'm not an artiest, I've accepted that about myself. Yet here I am with my shiny new graphic pen trying to create silly things for Whirled. Whirled is a game that's still in beta testing for Three Rings. Well it really isn't a game but rather an environment where games can be played to earn money to use to buy other things to spruce up your little section. Anyone can upload content to the catalog for sale and eventually cash out for real money.

I think the whole thing just gives me an excuse to try to teach myself Flash and create some goodies. I know I won't actually make anything off it, but it's a nice way to waste a few hours. Once you find a decent group of people, it can be rather fun in there.

How silly is it you ask? Well I spent a good amount of time making a cucumber wearing a snorkel that will dance. How many people can say that... or would want to? Dance cucumber dance!

"Music begins to atrophy when it departs too far from the dance." -- Ezra Pound

Here we go again....

2007-12-30T05:01:00.001-05:00

I'm a glutton for punishment... I'm amazed I'm going to even attempt the blog thing again. Putting thoughts to paper for others to read just allows them to discover that you weren't kidding when you told them of your insanity. To make matters worse, I've come up with the monumentally stupid idea to centralize my past posts from previous blogs (I'll time stamp them so they end up in the correct order before this post chronologically). This probably explains the entirely ridiculous title for this blog. We'll see if that actually happens once my lazy procrastination genes kick in.

Why now? I think a good part of it is that I am visiting my parents and bored outta my mind. Me bored only leads to bad things. So I inexplicably made a Facebook page (If you want that whole interactive friend web experience or want to contact me) which eventually made me want to Google folks from my past. I really wouldn't recommend this unless you're trying to kick yourself in the rear and remind yourself of past hurts or regrets. So once again I think it would be nice to blog and establish some kinda social network outside of my normal one. Part of me is scared to death that this means others will Google me and I'll have some explanations to make regarding my internet absence.... oh goodie.

I realize I sound unhappy. Here's the thing, I'm not. Perhaps that's why I am setting myself up....

"Mistakes are part of the dues one pays for a full life." -- Sophia Loren

Giant Gap in Time....

2007-12-29T06:32:00.000-05:00

As you can see there is quite the gap in time. I needed some time to get things figured out and make a life for myself that made me wake up every morning thankful rather than regretful. Eventually I'll get the nerve to contact those who were hurt by me falling off the face of the Earth... I'm just too chicken shit to do it yet.

Below you'll find a good number of old posts. I did you the favor of removing any silly quiz responses or really pitiful depressing posts.

I saw Angelina Jolie at the grocery store.

2005-06-11T09:52:00.000-04:00

I did, really. I was attempting to find a ripe cantaloupe, which as you all know is virtually impossible to detect. But that doesn’t stop me from thumping and smelling alla them. I heard someplace that you could roll it down the frozen food aisle and if it rolls to the left then it’s ripe. Don’t worry I didn’t test the theory. I tried it with a watermelon once and ended up downing a display of bran cereal. The box boy looked at me like I was evil incarnate. Of course at the time I wasn’t intending to roll it down the aisle but my hands were slippery and those suckers are sometimes heavier than they look.

Anyway, back to Angelina.... There she was moving into another aisle. So what did I do? I can’t believe you can even think to ask such a question. I followed her of course. Any lesbian worth a salt would follow either Angelina or Emma Thompson. It’s an unwritten rule; it’s in the lesbian manifesto for crying out loud. So I threw down the cantaloupe... I’d have to go back to my fruit fondling another time... and took off after her.

As I was arguing with my cart to get it to cooperate, I had to wonder what I would do when I finally caught up to her. I couldn’t just tackle her could I? Well I probably could but my friends get cranky when they have to bail me outta jail. Here’s where you start to wonder if someone is better than you in some way just because they are famous or have more money. Why was I stalking her through the grocery store? Sure she’s attractive, but that’s always meant very little to me. Suddenly I decided that I needed to be more cool about the whole thing.

-Step 1 of faking coolness: Stop trying a cool walk. If you don’t already have one, you certainly aren’t going to develop one the instant you need it. You end up looking like a wounded geriatric goblin.

-Step 2 of faking coolness: Try to make sure you voice doesn’t go supersonic. You can’t look cool when the only thing coming out of your mouth sounds like a strangled bird. This leads into what you should say. Remember simple is better. Don’t begin expounding on crap you don’t know. With your luck the person you’re trying to impress is the world’s foremost expert on the subject. Go for the easy things like, “hello”.

-Step 3 of faking coolness: Body language is important. If you shake their hand, remember to return it. Try not to do things like fan yourself with your hand while you’re breaking rule two. Give them some space. You don’t want to forever be remembered as the nutjob that speaks with their head inches from another’s.

-Step 4 of faking coolness: This is the most important thing.... do NOT act like I did.

So with alla my coolness in mind I rounded the corner.... and smashed dead on into her cart. Of course the sudden stop sent me careening across the aisle where I got very close and personal with a can of peas. So I tried to scramble up to my feet, but it’s difficult to do that while catching falling canned foods. That and there was the added problem that my coordination had gone south for the winter.

I then look up ready to say hello to Angelina and add one more thing to my super geeky autograph collection. There was only one problem. This wasn’t Angelina!! In fact the woman didn’t even look like her. In fact the person wasn’t even a woman! What the hell is wrong with my brain? How the hell do you salvage your dignity... you can’t say, “Oh sorry sir, I thought you were a rather overly skinny though beautiful woman...” Nope that wouldn’t work. So I said the first thing that came to mind... “Oh sorry sir, I just really needed those veggies for a stew...” And then I got the hell outta there.

So really I guess you can never see some things coming. You can try to look cool, or worry what others are going to say. But I’m starting to realize that worrying about it just takes too much of my energy... especially considering that even if I worry, I still cannot control most things. That and I learned that Angelina Jolie is actually a man... with a fondness for prunes and creamed corn.

“Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes.” -- Oscar Wilde

Spandex and rubber

2005-05-28T07:26:00.000-04:00

Wouldn’t it be great to be a superhero? These are the kinds of things I think about when nursing a sever caffeine deficiency and my harmless insanity. I would just like to know what it would be like to be the hero coming to the rescue. I don’t mean one that’s established like Wonder Woman, I mean if that *you* were a superhero. Whatever your greatest strengths are would be your superhero powers.

Let me give you an example: I would be Captain Cynicism. I’d wear vintage T-shirts with smartass sayings, loose jeans, and steel toed boots. If asked why I wasn’t wearing spandex or a ridiculously short skirt; you’d receive a lengthily diatribe about how that’s just another way to make women fall short of meeting society’s impossible expectations while holding them back as if they were nothing more than a mere sexual object. I would have a procrastination ray gun that I’d use to incapacitate would be criminals by making them continuously put off making plans to rule the world in favor of a bag of chips and the TV remote. I could blind them with my horrible dancing of doom, or bring them to their knees with my super screech like singing. I could confuse them with my losing laser that would hide their keys and make them unable to find the bank they were going to rob. If all else fails, I could tempt them with my cooking that would bring death faster than Poison Ivy’s kiss. Look out evil doers, Captain Cynicism is on duty.

These ludicrous thoughts were running through my mind as I waited on the side of the road with a flat tire. More people than I care to think about refused to stop. Now me being a liberated woman, I know *how* to change a tire. My problem was the Hulk couldn’t have moved the tire lock. My cell phone was so helpfully out of juice, and most people didn’t even look at the girl on the side of the road twice. This gave me all the time in the world as I contemplated who to call collect. Oh, did I mention that I had no change seeing as though I used it for gas, and my wallet was probably under my bed where it does me the most good?

So, just as I was about to head to the nearest convenience store, that wasn’t so convenient as it was about a mile away, a car stopped. An older man in a three piece suit stepped out of the car. He walked over to where I was. I was overjoyed, here was my help. However he said nothing to me, dumped out his old coffee from a travel mug on the side of the road, and got back in his car. Are you kidding me? I was starting to wonder if I was invisible, or perhaps he didn’t notice me standing not 50 feet from him, next to a car that had its hazard lights on. Stranger things have happened. Though, these thoughts didn’t stop me from cursing him as he drove off. Clearly those lessons in etiquette that my mother gave me were tossed right out the window sometime near puberty.

Just as I was about to cry, yes frustration can do that to a girl, a minivan stopped. A frazzled mother of two got out of the drivers seat and walked towards me. She had a stain on her shirt and looked like she hadn’t slept in the last decade. I could understand why judging by the wail I heard from young lungs in her van. She offered me a smile, her cell phone, and even a pop. Then she offered to wait with me until help arrived. She clearly wasn’t having the best day herself, yet she stopped to help me improve mine. Today, this harried mother with wild hair and exhaustion in her eyes was my hero.

Yes, today a woman was my hero and she didn’t even need any superpowers. She just needed kindness and the ability to think of someone else. Of all the people that could have stopped, she probably had the most reason not to. She probably would have been better off with a nap or getting her kids to the babysitter faster, but she chose to stop. She made a choice to use her compassion to help another in the real world. What kind of superhero would you be?

“Nurture your mind with great thoughts; to believe in the heroic makes heroes.” -- Benjamin Disraeli

Mutterings

2005-05-21T06:53:00.000-04:00

I wish sometimes I remembered how to ask. Somewhere along the line I must have forgotten how to say the words I needed to. Just because you know what you want doesn’t necessarily mean that you will even ask for it.

I want you to tell me a story, your story. A story that makes me understand a side of you I have never seen. But I don’t know how to ask. I want you to tell me that the world isn’t a cold place and I will always be warm walking along side of you. But I haven’t the words. I want you to say that the dark shadow that haunts my nightmares can’t harm me while you are around. That seeing him wouldn’t send me reeling into memories best forgotten. But the words never come. I want to ask you to give me your friendship as well as your shoulder, to let me burden you with my chaotic thoughts. But I haven’t the heart to ask. I want to ask you to wipe away my memory and regret. To glue the broken pieces back together seamlessly. But I wouldn’t know where to begin. I even want to ask you to laugh with me, to enjoy my moments of joy. But I’ve forgotten how to speak.

Where would I start? It’s been so long since I bothered to ask anyone for anything. Someone asked me whose shoulder I had to cry on. The thing is I know those people are there. They are waving their arms at me as if they were tying to land a chopper. I know who “you” is. “You” is everyone I care about, who I know haven’t forgotten what it is to open themselves up to another. But I don’t remember how to ask. It isn’t that I need them right now or that I am falling apart. I just want to remember how. To ask is to open up a part of yourself, a part that I closed long ago in an effort to move on.

There’s no need to comment here, these are just my random mutterings. All I need is some chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a good book. That and to appreciate that I do have those people there... regardless of if I ask or not.

“I'm just trying to look at something without blinking.” -- Toni Morrison

Say it ain't so

2005-05-20T05:10:00.000-04:00

There is a moment in everyone’s life when all their fears about the future come to a head. We dread this day. It lurks in the back of our mind as the worst case scenario. Yesterday was just that moment for me. Yes, that’s right... yesterday I found out I was turning into my parents. Oh sweet god say it isn’t so! Really, there's nothing more frightening than when you catch yourself doing something that one or both of your parents did that drives you insane.

Yesterday I was sitting there trying to figure out how to fix something that I broke. The fact that I broke something is nothing new, but I caught myself saying my dad’s patented phrase, “Oh no I’ll fix it, all we need is a can of WD-40 and some duct tape”. When my ears heard me say this I knew this was the beginning of the end. Soon I will be asking the bag boy at the store if he can bag every cold item separately like my mother does (I have no idea why maybe they contaminate each other or something, there's no logic to be found here), or I could really fall and end up asking people around me when they’re going to tackle step 39 of a project that is only at step 6. But I won’t just ask them once. No, I’ll ask them once an hour... just to be sure. Oy.

I think some of this explains why I’m as insane as I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the psycho kind of insane that you'd have to worry about picking through your garbage in order to better stalk you with. I’m just that little bit of insane that makes people in my life shake their head. For example, I am physically incapable of replacing the roll of toilet paper. I'll always bring out a fresh roll, but somehow that sucker never seems to make it on the little roller thingy. When I get flustered the only word that leaves my lips sounds like a cross between a “what” and a “huh”. I play little games in my head as I watch people at the grocery store. I am always looking in their cart all nosey like in hopes that my mind can come up with the reason they are there and the story of their life. I don’t make it a normal life either. Oh no. I can’t tell you the number of ex CIA assassins and members of the mob that have gone underground I’ve met trolling the frozen food aisle.

I guess I was just realizing how much of my time lately I seem to spend in my head. I wouldn’t really say I was hiding from life, although that’s how I think this all started, but I would say that I am living there more than I did several years ago. I don’t blame my parents for my craziness; I just think their genetics helped it along a little. Life gave me my craziness. I wonder if that is why I like being online? Maybe the fact that I can live here but still reside for the most part in my head is what attracts me to this place. Or maybe I have found a new high-tech way to hide under my bed from the world at large.

“I want all my senses engaged. Let me absorb the world's variety and uniqueness.” -- Maya Angelou

Office hurts

2005-04-18T20:16:00.000-04:00

Today I went into Office Max. I just love office supplies. I know that’s weird, but I just can’t get enough of them. I have things in my desk that I don’t even have a use for or even know what it is. I don’t think I need 4 different colors of Post-it notes, or a handy little pen-like dispenser for glue. That seems particularly useless seeing as though I haven’t glued anything since the third grade. I even like the smell of permanent markers and rubber cement.

Anyway, I’m a sucker for anything that is an office supply. I guess it makes me a cheap date when I’d probably be just as happy with a bouquet of mechanical pencils as I would be with flowers. It also makes me terribly geeky I think.

I think my love of all things office started when I was younger and my dad would take me with him to work. Every once in a while on a Saturday, my dad would have some work to finish so he’d drag my brother and I along with him. He’s an electrical engineer and this was back when computer monitors only used the color green. Every time we’d go he’d get us a sub from 7-11 and a Slurpee. So while he was working on something or tinkering around with prehistoric geek parts, I would play with the things in his desk. I could make a chain of paperclips 3 miles long, make a projectile weapon with erasers and rubber bands, or draw little pictures on the corner of his dry erase board.

The neat thing was that every time I went back to his office I would see that he still had the pictures that I drew up on his dry erase board. He never got rid of them, and every time I went there I would give him a new one to look at. He was, and still is, a very quiet man. So he never told me that he liked them, but I knew he did just by the fact that they were never removed. To me and at that age, he was everything. He had all the answers. He was my hero.

It wasn’t until I was older that I had to face the fact that he was anything but perfect. We couldn’t be more different. It’s always hard when the person that you place on a pedestal falls from your grace. I think my teen years were especially hard on our relationship just because we are both two very different people with very real faults.

However, it still hurt the other day when he mentioned that he would be for an amendment that would ban gay marriage. This isn’t going to be a blog entry with my political rants, rather one of my sheer disappointment over his thinking. I don’t understand it, and I never will. It saddens me that my once hero would think this way and not even understand how it affects his child. It’s almost like he doesn’t understand what he is saying. Yet he knows and somewhat supports my lifestyle now. Civil unions he’d be okay with, but that’s all I really know because I wasn’t up to talking with him about it.

We have been on a rollercoaster, and I’d thought we were on an upswing from the damage of my teenage years. I guess this will be a test of my tolerance as well. I never thought I’d have to forgive my father for his moral view, but I it looks like I will have to. The bottom line is I wont allow a philosophical difference destroy all the hard work we’ve done. He taught me better than that.

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” -- Eleanor Roosevelt

Happy Easter

2005-04-11T15:22:00.000-04:00

When I was a kid we used to hide the eggs around the house. Well my parents did because the Easter Bunny is rather busy you know. We would decorate like 8 hard boiled eggs the night before and leave them out. Anyway, they were terrible hiders. I mean come on; those suckers would be sitting on a self. Then they were sneaky and would hide one or two in impossible spots. They would say things like, “Well I think the Easter Bunny hid alla the eggs in this room.” ~or~ “The Easter Bunny might have been tired last night and wasn’t able to reach anything over eye level.” They would also hide our Easter baskets in odd places. You really never know what you’ll find in the tub or behind the water heater on Easter morning. However, seeing as though these people are related to me, our holiday was not without its share of disaster.

How could I ever forget the time that the dog grabbed the fake grass stuff out of the Easter baskets and drag it around the house. Or what about when my brother and I were finally in charge of the eggs and forgot to boil them? There is nothing harder in this world to get out of a squirming child’s hair than egg. Of course that wouldn’t have been a problem if my brother hadn’t crushed them on my head. I think the worst was when we forgot to find one of the eggs. It took us months to figure out what that mysterious smell was coming from the living room. I think the Easter Bunny was fired that year, but I can’t be sure.

The holiday was always one of my favorites and still is when I look back on it. It’s not about the candy because my brother would steal that anyway; it was that my parents always got so into the whole thing. They didn’t just sit back and let us open presents like on Christmas, but they got their hands dirty and wandered around pretending to look for things they had hidden. For one day they too were a child.

This Easter was good but in a different way. I didn’t go to mass. There is something about me going to church as a lesbian in conservative Arizona that didn’t really appeal to me. I did buy myself a chocolate bunny, but I didn’t hide it. How sad would it be if I hid my own bunny? I did see alla my family in the morning, played with the furry monster that just learned that sleeping under the covers is the cool place to be, chatted with friends, and ordered an Easter pizza. I know it might sound like I didn’t do much but it was nice to have a relaxing day chatting with friends. Of course that was only enhanced by the fact that one was from Ireland, two from the UK, one from Australia, and a few from the states. Now let me tell you, the accents alone that I was hearing over yahoo’s voice conference were enough to make any woman in her right mind swoon. I don’t care if you are in love with someone or in a relationship; you couldn’t have heard these woman talking and not have been loving life. That alone makes for a nice day. Well that and I got to chat with people that always make me smile even if they do call me girly.

I guess the point is that I would have thought I would have missed being a kid today, or being surrounded by family. I didn’t really. I had my chocolate bunny and found myself surrounded with the same feelings that good friends bring. That’s really the point I guess. So I hope you and yours had a wonderful holiday and you managed to laugh. And if you could hear a woman with an accent you really were one of the lucky ones!

"A friend is one who knows us, but loves us anyway.” -- Fr. Jerome Cummings

Ah competition...

2005-04-02T06:17:00.000-05:00

Ah competition... It’s everywhere. Generally I love it... I find it motivating, and I used to thrive on it. So much of my life has been spent in one form of competition or another. But when it reaches a point that I feel competition in my personal life or the way I relate to others, I shut down.... I give up.

Competition for the sake of it, or for spite, isn’t something I handle very well. Those kinds of games send me hiding under the bed with a stash of peanuts and Tab cola. Maybe it’s because growing up life was one great big competition. With my brother and I being polar opposites, it was only natural. And in most cases I enjoy it, or at least am inspired by it. It’s interesting that at every opportunity my family seems to foster this game of theirs. Sometimes people or situations have the ability to pit people against each other... never a good thing if you have an underling fear of not measuring up.

Now I feel I’m too old for it. Or maybe I feel in some cases that I’m just out gunned. I’ve long since believed in not playing the game if I don’t think I can win. Forget the joy of the game... I’d like there to be a goal of some kind I’m shooting for. So now when I hear that there’s some competition within my personal life, I have to fight the urge to just back away. I’ll have to find a way to ignore that I’m not holding alla the cards, and the house isn’t dealing a fair game. I think I’m going to have to see these inevitable moments in a better light, and not assume that I’ll never stand a chance. How do you convince yourself that the games you hate are sometimes the ones worth playing?

Games are everywhere, some more fun than others. But I wonder why some just seem to love them so much. There are those that seem to feed on them and the drama that surrounds them. They can’t be upfront with you, but have no problem complaining when life becomes too complicated. Why wouldn’t you just come out with what you’re saying? Why wouldn’t you say what you’re willing to tell others? This confounds me. I can’t imagine why my hiding spot under the bed isn’t more crowded and people are fighting me for the last peanut.

“Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.” -- Jane Austen

A Mouse's best firend

2005-02-20T18:25:00.000-05:00

If I could walk around with my computer strapped to my hip I probably would. I have a love hate relationship with this hunk of junk. It loves to hate me, and I hate to love it. It even has a name... Wanda. I know people name their cars and boats in hopes that they will bring them home safely. What’s my excuse?

I think I named mine solely for the purpose of having something to yell when it crashes. And believe you me, I can yell. I’m sure my neighbors sit around once a week and say something like, “Oh yes Bob, that girl’s computer just crashed again. Does her mother know she uses that kind of language? How shameful.”

So I spent the better part of this morning and yesterday morning trying to fix a friends computer. That’s always much more frustrating that dealing with my own for a few reasons: 1) People don’t know how to file things. It’s a wonder they can find their underwear in the morning without a map. 2) They sit there looking over your shoulder and asking highly technical questions. Now, attempting to learn new things is great, but that isn’t the best time for you to have your first lesson. 3) They are freaking out to the point that even their pets are hiding under tables. There’s nothing worse than working on someone’s computer and every little *ding* they hear gives them a stroke. 4) They always want to help. You sit there and watch them move their mouse at an excruciatingly slow pace, and it's all you can do not to shove them aside and confiscate it.

I’m sure they ask me for help because I’m really too much of a geek. I mean for the most part, these evil contraptions fascinate me. You’re probably sitting there thinking that you too are a geek. Well, unless you have random computer parts sitting on your kitchen table, you’re not a geek.

You’re not a real geek until you poke around in your open computer tower. Or instead of a normal collection like stamps or those state quarters, you collect MP3s. Ask yourself if you can tell me what a Sims character sounds like, or what it is like to get your ass kicked in some damn online game. Do you window shop at CompUSA only to salivate over a computer that could run a third world country?

I’m thinking one day I might become Queen of the Geek People. This would make my mother so proud of me I’m sure. All my little followers would know what an I-D-10-T error was. It would be apart of the Geek Manifesto. They also would count among their best friends, folks they’ve never met. We would probably never leave our homes. We would become a civilization of hermits that have tendinitis in their wrists from typing, and 20/300 vision from staring at a monitor all day.

The reality is that it’s an amazing world that you can get sucked into when you hop online. I bet you had no idea that you could meet such wonderful people, chat, read such entertaining fiction, learn so much about others and subjects you never thought you’d be interested in, and learn that it really isn’t the superficial that counts in the people you want in your life. Also, I bet you never thought you’d be able to say that yes, you too have met the Queen of the Geek People.

“To err is human, but to really foul things up requires a computer.” -- Farmers' Almanac

So I’m drunk.....

2005-02-10T07:30:00.000-05:00

So I’m drunk. It’s been a long time since I’ve bothered to get drunk. That’s possibly because I’m on vacation, or maybe because it’s been a while since I’ve been around friends. Either way I’m drunk. So a first time drunken post… this should be frightening to all that happen by this blog. (after reading this over I realize I’m too old to be drunk).

Isn’t it interesting that sometimes being in this state can bring about truths? Some of them I was reluctant to say, or other people heard some they were unwilling to face before, and some of the truths I myself had been unwilling to face. But it’s there… truth. So, I’ll blog about it in hopes that I remember that which I have failed to face. I cannot speak of their truth… that’s for them to find. But I can of mine… in hopes that I will remember it all and maybe make steps to improve.

I’m basically the friend that everyone looks to for comic relief. (something that has really been hammered home time and time again) For whatever reason I’m not the one that people drop their problems on until they have no other option. Sadly, I’ve been watching them for so long that I know them better than they think, so maybe I could be good with the issues they wanna talk about.

That’s my fault. I have depth… I just hide it. Once people find a way into the deep parts of you, they now have a way to hurt you. It’s so much easier to be the one that cheers others up even when your own world is lacking. I’m the quintessential party favor… You should have me over… I come with a lifetime guarantee to always be amusing and never cause a dyke drama.

The problem is it can be lonely to be in this role. So lonely in fact that you just make sure you stay there so that no one else can get under your skin. Real healthy I know…. oy.

People will say that it’s a gift to make people laugh… blah blah blah… But really it’s a way to hide. I was always great at hide and seek. It’s time I stopped and started worrying about me. It’s time I allowed myself not to hide to that extent. Maybe then a drunken night with friends wouldn’t leave me contemplating more things about my life that need to change… ugh change…

Really I had fun tonight… I just wish I talked to people like this more. Sometimes I think that it would be great if at least once a week I could have these deep life changing discussions when people would remember them.

I’m off to bed now… ready to regret the fact that I actually sent this sucker. Tonight was a good night. Not something I normally do… but sometimes it’s nice to step outside your normal box.

Well I get to go on vacation in a week.

2004-10-15T05:05:00.000-04:00

I’m not sure I remember the last vacation I took. It had to have been one I took 2-3 years ago. We went to Florida where I learned several rather important things: 1) Florida bugs are so large they should be forced to pay taxes. I’ve seen helicopters smaller than those things. 2.) If you don’t like a person that you spend very little time with, you’ll more than likely find yourself homicidal after being forced to stay in a hotel room with them. 3.) An amusement parks in Florida during the summer are very similar to a modern day form of torture. By the time you’re done, you’re ready to kick the next large furry creature in the head that tries to get between you and anything air-conditioned.

I had a good time during that vacation. I have to admit that I almost always have a good time on a vacation. I don’t care if I have to force people to have fun at gunpoint, we’ll have some fun. I don’t know how I couldn’t enjoy myself just because I get to be away from home for a while. I think that’s for two reasons. I’ve never quite grown up, and being away always gives me a sense of freedom, and being away from home gives me a reason to forget about problems that might be waiting for me. They go straight to the backburner.

Anyway, I’ll be heading to Reno with a few lunatics I’ve met online. I’m quite sure that their all the harmless kind of insane, but if you don’t hear from me for a month or so I’m either wandering the desert lost, or I won a million in blackjack. Have you ever met someone you know online? It’s a strange experience. You know them... hell you talk to them all the time. Yet you’re faced with a stranger. The beauty is that you’ve already decided what you think about them by who they are. How freeing to not have to worry about superficial crap.

So I’m glad to be going on a trip soon. It’s been way too long since I just had some worry free fun.

“VACATION: Two weeks on the sunny sands - and the rest of the year on the financial rocks.” -- Sam Ewing

Idiocy on parade...

2004-10-01T18:10:00.000-04:00

You can have all the education in the world and still be completely stupid. If you doubt me, I have proof. Last night I was driving to PetsMart trying to buy a bowl that weighed more than a house. Why? Because I’m really tired of the puppy picking up her bowl and moving it over to wherever I am to eat. It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t leave a trail behind her. My theory is she just wants to remember where to put it back. For the most part she’s self cleaning, and goes back to pick up the trail. Sadly, she doesn’t do a very good job of it so I end up stepping on them late at night while trying to get some water.... but I digress.

Anyway while driving, I passed a brand new Mercedes SUV. The license place said, “ER DOC”. Inside with the light on was a lovely woman.... a lovely busy one. She had the nerve to be driving while reading a medical chart, and talking on her cell phone. How dumb can you be? It’s not like she doesn’t see enough accidents in her ER to know better....

That’s not to say I’m immune from stupidity... far from it. This morning I was talking to my mother... which can be a chore at times in and of itself... and actually found myself offering to cook the Thanksgiving turkey. I tried this last year.... you’d think I’d learn. Last year my brother and I had the grand idea to cook the turkey on the grill. Anyone who knows me knows that an open flame and I are a dangerous combination. There was only a small fire that time... thank god. And at least half the turkey was edible, if you didn’t mind the crunch. But here I was once again offering to burn the house down and mutilate a poor turkey.

None of us are immune from stupidity... I just try to keep it behind close doors and not in a moving vehicle. I’ll just keep it between me, my family, my friends, and the city’s fire department.

“The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits” -- Albert Einstein

What's up doc...

2004-09-29T21:13:00.000-04:00

I think I just hate doctors. There’s nothing about the experience that I enjoy. I liked it more when I was a kid and they’d hand you a candy at the end of the visit. Personally, I wish they still continued this practice. I’d do a lot of things for candy. Hell who wouldn’t. Do you remember when you’d eat candy and you wouldn’t feel one iota of guilt? When did the guilt happen? Being an adult really just means that you recognize guilt when you’re feeling it.

I think there should be one day during the week where you’re allowed to feel no guilt about such little things. Maybe a Wednesday. I mean it’s smack dab in the middle of the week and by the time we hit hump day, we really could use a vat of ice cream and a bottle of our favorite alcohol. Going into the grocery aisle and nabbing alla the chocolate we want should be celebrated on this day. Saying phrases like, “That will just head straight to my thighs” should be reserved for those baby carrot sticks and yogurt. It would be a beautiful day where Ben n’ Jerry’s reigned supreme.

What happened to doing things because we enjoyed them? I don’t mean everyday, but what’s wrong with a treat now and then? Why do I feel guilty anytime I feel like making myself feel special? For me... my guilty pleasure is the movies. I love ‘em. I can’t get enough of them. And just as a random fact, I don’t like popcorn. I know... I’m weird. Anyway – I end up wanting to go to one at least once a week. But each time I go I tend to feel a bit guilty. I mean, that’s ten dollars that could have been better spent. Well not really ten. I tend to go to the dollar movies allot. The point is that I seem to find a way to feel guilty about something I enjoy. That’s silly. Everyone needs something... some escape.

So, today’s Wednesday people. It’s guilty day. Go find something that you enjoy... ice cream, pop tarts, chocolate, cheese, movies... whatever. I myself am going to a movie and while there I might just get some gummy candy... and I’m not going to feel so much as a twinge of guilt!

“Guilt is a rope that wears thin.” -- Ayn Rand

Along came a spider....

2004-09-24T19:36:00.000-04:00

Towards the end of the summer and early fall here, the tarantulas are in season... everywhere. I spend about 2 months on high alert just waiting for one of those bastards to try to get in my place. I have this vision of them all huddled together creating a battle plan to breech my defense parameter. I’m convinced they enjoy this little game of scare the human. When I see them, my fear trumps any desire I might have to look sane.

I don’t just scream like a chick from a B horror movie.... No, I can actually be heard in the next time zone. Then I suddenly hop onto the nearest thing. Most often that’s a couch or table, but I’ve been known to jump on some poor fool standing next to me. There’s a lot of arm waving and pointing. It really is rather unattractive. All this happens while it stares at me, mocking me. Don’t let it fool you though; it’s just waiting for its opportunity to pounce.

Then the problem comes in. How do you take care of it while staying at least 30 feet from it? I mean these damn things are so big that if I threw my shoe at it, it would probably throw it right back. I’d think about a brick, but with my aim I’d end up putting holes in the walls. So I toss bowls. Now I know you think I’m insane... but they work. The key is getting to the kitchen without putting even my big toe on the ground. This can be tricky and it requires some skill. I suggest you practice before the invaders are attacking. If all else fails, just skirt alongside the wall and then sprint into the kitchen.

Eventually you can cover the thing with a lucky bowl shot. Then you have to put a book over it to hold it down. That’s really important. I found out the hard way. One instance of a moving bowl or an escapee, was enough to teach me that lesson. Then I call someone in to remove it. I don’t care if they kill it really.... I just don’t wanna get close enough to do it myself. Yes that makes me a horrible non-friend to spider kind, but I can’t help it. I’ve tried to reason with them, but they never listen. If the poor fool I call wants to shoo that creature out, then by all means... but just don’t let it escape behind a bookcase. Last time that happened I didn’t sleep for a week

So about a week ago, my puppy thought she’d bring me a huge tarantula (about the size of my whole freaking hand) as a present. I was touched... how sweet. Then I squirted her with the hose till she dropped the thing. What, you think I’d let her near me like that? God no. Poor thing was a tad confused... She ate the hose 3 days later so I think we’re even.

"I discovered I scream the same way whether I'm about to be devoured by a great white or if a piece of seaweed touches my foot." -- Kevin James

Sanity...

2004-09-10T01:27:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been driving around talking to yourself in the car? I do this. Don’t try to hide it, because I know you do it too. We all do. Often times I’m running over a conversation I just had. I’m always about ten times cleverer when in conversations with myself. I can even think of the one thing I wanted to say but it wouldn’t come. Finally I can think of exactly what I would say to the woman that scooted in front of me for the last parking spot, or the guy who cut in line at the grocery store while commenting on my current weight and parentage. In the car alone, I’m a genius. I can solve any problem, and I’m always right.

So today I was chattering to myself about what I had to do for the day. It was a laundry list of things that I’d probably never get around to. I could’ve been doing a few of them, but by making the list I was allowing myself to procrastinate on actually doing what was on it. It’s a clever trick that all of us procrastinators know. At the stop light I looked over and stopped in mid sentence. Someone was watching me from another car and looking at me as if I’d gone insane. I went insane long ago so that look wasn’t exactly foreign to me, but I fell silent regardless. Then in order to not appear like I was a half a step away from the padded room, I started acting as if I was singing to the radio. That’s more sane right? That should fool them. They didn’t know that I was talking and not singing. How could they know the radio wasn’t even on? Yes, that could be a good plan. So I started bobbing my head and tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. For a little bit of added realism I made sure to have no rhythm whatsoever. Not exactly something I had to work at in the least.

I’d done it! I managed to fend off being embarrassed in front of a total stranger I’d never see again. It shouldn’t matter, but embarrassment doesn’t always care if you’ll ever see the person again. I was almost smug that I’d hidden my quirks from the eyes of the general public. That’s when something started nagging at me. As the stranger drove away I realized just what it was.... my windows were down and so was hers. So not only did this person know I was talking to myself, but she knew of my pathetic attempt to cover it up and *fake* sing. Now she thought I talked to myself, sung silently to songs that aren’t there, and had horrible rhythm to boot. Great! Now I was embarrassed. I tried to fight off the impending embarrassment and really only made sure that I’d end up being it anyway. Embarrassment can’t be fought... it’s far too sneaky.

So as I was mentally kicking myself for both my blunder and allowing myself to care what this person thought, I heard her while she drove away. She was laughing and talking to herself about me and my blundering. Ha! I felt better. Did I care that she was laughing at me or telling herself that I was a lunatic? Not one bit. Why you ask? Well because she too was talking to herself. Like I said, we all do it. Sadly I think we all will get embarrassed over something that someone else is sure to do. With that in mind I went back to my procrastination checklist, not bothering to roll up the window or care who heard me.

“The statistics on sanity are that one out of every 4 Americans are suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you.” -- Rita Mae Brown

Pool Fiction.

2004-09-07T00:40:00.000-04:00

I just read this book today. T’was rather nice and is what I call “fluff you read by the pool”. So that’s exactly what I did. Yes, it was a productive day of reading by the pool and drinking enough ice tea and pop to drown an elephant. It’s my favorite kind of day... that in and of itself amazes me because I used to be rather active and uninterested in books. Then when life happened and I was forced to sit still for a while; I realized just how much I love to read... to fall into a story. So I plowed through online fiction years ago and now I’m even hunting down new things to read. Too bad I’m too cheap to buy a book, and our local library has more books involving drunken rhinos going duck hunting while singing incorrect lyrics to “Louie Louie”, than they do ones involving *gasp* two women in love.... in other words... none.

I’m not sure why reading by the pool is an important part of the whole process. Probably because I can feel like I got out of the house without actually having to get off my duff. It’s not like I was sunning myself or even self-consciously squeezing into a swimsuit... parish the thought. Because really... the more skin I show the more likelihood that I blind some poor passersby with my glaring lack of a tan. Really, I just like the background noise. It was even better because I was alone and didn’t have to worry about children splashing me, or me having to pretend like I’m an adult and say something like, “no running...”

I even took the time to go to Circle K (A local convenience store) to by a pop the size of a small Midwestern city. While there I had to wait in line, not something I normally mind. What did annoy me was the total moron that was holding up the line. He went to the cooler, took a 12-pack of pop, opened it to take out one can, and then proceeded to berate the clerk because she couldn’t ring him up. It’s bee a long time since I’ve seen our stores sell a can of pop. She wouldn’t even know how much to charge. This whole concept seemed way over his head. I, being annoyed and misguided, decided to just politely offer to buy the man a bottle of pop.... Anything to get him moving and me closer to poolside reading pleasures. This wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. I should’ve known better.

He took me up on my offer. Hooray! One step closer to fluffy fiction....Not quite. He came storming back in after placing the bottle in his truck (a $50,000 truck I might add) ranting about how the price for bottles of pop would lead to the downfall of man... down with government! This was all just a nefarious way for Circle K to gouge customers into parting with their hard earned money. He then pointed to me. Oh goodie. It seemed I was a corporate plant sent in to move the process of Circle K’s world dominance along. Granted I am just summarizing and trying to put together what exactly he was saying, it’s hard to tell with alla that spittle flying at me and the arms waving franticly in the air. Now in steps the hero of the story. Well you wouldn’t know she was a hero by looking at her, but she was.

She had ripped jeans, a little purple streak in her hair, a few tattoos, and strangely not a bit of spandex normally associated with a hero. She slammed the case of beer she was holding on the counter, placing the change she had hunted around in her car to pay for it on top, and squared off with the lunatic. They then got in a verbal battle that the lunatic was severely outmatched for. Everyone else was sitting idly by while the man yelled at me and the clerk. Everything we were saying was doing no good, but they watched in fascination. She wasn’t interested in hearing this any longer. She talked rather calmly to him and just charmed him into stopping his tirade for the most part. Unfortunately, at one point when he saw he was losing ground, he grabbed the condiment tray for the hot dogs and flung it at me. Of course it hit me. I thought about ducking, but never quite got around to it. Next thing I know the woman had escorted him out and I was sporting a lovely ensemble of ketchup, relish, and onions. The color really matched my eyes if I do say so myself.

Anyway, to make a long story a tad shorter, the woman left with a hardy thank you and some free beer courtesy of evil institution set on world domination, better knowing as Circle K. I left a little more fragrant and a lot more eager to enjoy my quiet pool time. So what I remember about the day really isn’t the lunatic, but a person that didn’t have to get involved but chose to. She didn’t stoop to his level, but she talked him down. What I was saying back only made the man more enraged, and really in this day and age something like this could have turned out a lot worse. Only the pickles were harmed here. I’m not saying I was scared, because I really wasn’t. But then again you never really know. So often now people won’t get involved for whatever reason. They just don’t care anymore... but then sometimes they do. I’m glad for those who do... even if it getting involved is as simple as showing common courtesy or voting in elections. The point is that the people that are willing are a hero, if for only a moment.

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” -- Oscar Wilde (Lady Windermere's Fan, 1892)

Fix me!

2004-09-02T05:45:00.000-04:00

I wonder if it’s possible for me to walk into an auto repair shop and not have "sucker" written across my forehead in permanent marker. They see me coming... they know that I’ll probably sell my first born (assuming one day I have one) in order to get my tires rotated. I’m their dream come true and I don’t even know it. They could tell me that the fluxcapacitor in the walla walla bing bang joint was broken and I’d nod and pretend that I had a clue as to what they were talking about. I hate when my walla walla bing bang is acting up. I go in there to describe the problem with descriptive terms like, "clunk" and "ting ting ting blop". Their diagnosis is always the same... They can bleed me dry.

I’m not saying they’re all like this... I just have the eerie skill of finding the one bad seed in the bunch. As an aside that’s just the reason people refuse to let me set them up on a blind date. However, I have found that women seem to make better mechanics... well at least from my prospective. For some reason they know that when I make an embarrassingly loud squeak in the lobby of their shop as a demonstration, it means I need a new belt... not a new engine. A good mechanic should win the Nobel Prize in engineering. They should have their picture in the paper and be put on the news as a local hero.

A good mechanic probably doesn’t know how much I’d appreciate them. They rank right up there with a good plumber. I love them... I’m more than willing to fall to my knees in gratitude to anyone of them that crosses my path. The point is that regardless of what job you are doing right now... there is always someone somewhere willing to hand you the shirt off their back in appreciation if you do it well.

"Always drink upstream from the herd." -- Will Rogers

Movin' on Up.

2004-09-01T01:54:00.000-04:00

I guess it’s been a long time since I was here and filling people in on the inane details of my life. I’m not sure that I have a reason. The world didn’t crash down around me, I didn’t win the lotto and head to Aruba, I didn’t get fed up with hearing about the election and start shouting on a street corner with a sandwich board draped over my body.... Nope I was just here not feeling like writing a whole lot.

I live in one of those places that aren’t really small but they always have that feel. I didn’t feel the need to write about this place that I live in. It’s like living in a steam room... sometimes it’s pleasant and comforting, other you feel like you are suffocating. There are always too many people in the room and you can never quite find the exit. Right now I'm desperately looking for an exit.

Why? Along with the familiarity of this town I also know that there are shadows lurking around every corner. There’re always memories best left forgotten ready and willing to tackle me when I least expect it. I see the people that haunt my nightmares, I see the places that make me shiver, and those that thought nothing of me. Sometimes you want to escape so that you can’t prove some of the people right nor disappoint those who believed in you. Either way you want a fresh start.

Why am I still here? Simple. A lot of the reasons that make you want to leave are also what make you stay. It’s so easy to sit back with the easy answer and tell me to just pick up and move. If only. It’s not like I could afford it... and finding a job someplace else wouldn’t help me get there in the first place. It’s all part of that quicksand feeling. So really it’s all a waiting game.

Isn’t it funny how much of our lives we spend waiting? I am waiting for god knows how long to be able to move. People wait all week for the weekend. They end up waiting 71.43% of their lives. Yes I did the math if you can believe it – and I didn’t even factor the time spent waiting for vacations or sleeping. The bottom line is that waiting is a part of life. So I will have to wait for what I want like everyone else. I guess I just have to remember not to stop living while I wait.

“We could never learn to be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the world.” -- Helen Keller

Olympics

2004-08-20T13:55:00.000-04:00

I love the Olympics! Although I notice that I'm worse than any backseat driver. I'm the living room expert on all that is Olympic. It's just one of my many delusions. I don’t discriminate; I’m just as obnoxious while watching swimming as I am watching archery. Coincidently it’s also the only time of year you’d catch me watching 99.9% of these sports. That doesn’t stop me from being the be all and end all of synchronized swimming. Does it bother me that when I swim my limbs aren’t even synchronized with themselves? Not one bit.

So if you wander by my house you'll hear me yelling at my television or jumping up and down like a loon. You’ll hear me yell at officials and make comments about gymnasts who are doing things with their bodies that makes mine shudder in protest at even the thought. If I were to try to do the splits the scream I'd unleash could probably be heard in another hemisphere. The fact that I'm the most accident prone person to ever step into or out of an ER means that the only gymnastics apparatus that wouldn’t kill me would be the floor exercise, and that’s just if I stay perfectly still. But that doesn’t stop me from rolling my eyes at every step on every landing.

So now is the time where people get to see their Olympic dreams come true.... and couch potatoes like me can dream through them.

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some hire public relations officers." -- Daniel J. Boorstin

New Tricks.

2004-08-04T02:20:00.000-04:00

I have a longer entry coming, but I was in the mood to post a little something sooner rather than later. I was walking with my pup that’s almost too big for me to keep calling her that. I was busy randomly people watching. In Arizona you can go to a park but you kind of miss out on the whole grassy green experiences. If you’re lucky there’s some half dead grass and a lovely rock garden. So parks don’t seem to be a major meeting place for people. Can you blame them? They’re all scurrying for cover away from the sun. Most of the people are walking about with their dog or small child, who in a few mins will be burning themselves on the metal of the solar heated slide.

Off in the distance I watched some woman who had two dogs. These two animals listened better than the average toddler, and she had them doing more tricks that I’d be capable of. I mean is their any reason that your dog should know how to do a barking back flip on command? Is that going to scare off a burglar? Why not just teach the animal to use the pepper spray while you’re at it? I looked down at my puppy (that was just being praised for knowing how to sit) while she watched these two other dogs. She lay down in the dirt and just huffed. Can dogs get an inferiority complex?

So this woman came bounding over to me. Oh goodie. She had the kind of body that one would buy out of a catalog and the perkiness that reminds you of a hummingbird. She then proceeded to tell me *all* of her tips to make my dog the perfect companion. She complemented my girl in that condescending way that makes you want to see her fall into a large cactus. Ok so no my dog isn’t going to be featured on some reality show for amazingly obedient animals... but I’m sure at some point her pets have plotted her death. I’d rather have a pet than a circus performer. She doesn’t need to know that my puppy is really made of 60% cat thus is more likely to be batting something around with her paws instead of fetching. Getting the toys is my job, she trained me well.

I think what drove this woman is the same impulse that drives women to compare their children, or men to compare their sexual conquests. Somehow some don’t feel as if they have merit unless they can validate themselves by one upping you. Well I could care less. Kyla may not know every trick in the book, but she knows how to climb up on my shoulders and lay down while I’m on the computer. What more could I possibly need? So today when you see some woman or man that has something better than you, (car, body, whatever) just don’t bother trying to compare. Life doesn’t work like that... and the grass is always greener on other people’s dogs.

“Some folks are wise and some otherwise.” -- Josh Billings

Who needs sleep?

2004-07-18T06:06:00.000-04:00

I went to bed a few hours ago content. Talking about everything and nothing and a few laughs before bed are always the way to go. Normally I would drift off to sleep right away. Sometimes I have to wonder if I’m narcoleptic. The only thing that leads me to doubt that are those times that things start filtering through my mind robbing me of sleep. They aren’t always bad things, far from it. Life tends to filter through my head when the safety of the covers and the darkness of my room demand it.

Sometimes the only one you have to talk to is yourself. Sometimes you are the only one who’ll understand, who doesn’t need the back-story, and who wont be hurt by said thoughts. How would you explain to someone thoughts that aren’t yet concrete? What if what you need/want to think and talk about involves the very people who you’d normally run to? Or what if you are like me, and reluctant to allow someone that close of an examination? They may not like what they see... I certainly don’t a lot of the time. Besides, sometimes I’d hardly know where to begin.

I’d like to think that I can be there for someone when needed. However in reality that’s rather selfish of me because I wont often allow them the same privilege. When you spend a lot of your life people watching you tend to shy away from that moment when the spotlight hits you. It’s easy to hide in someone else’s problem, and easy to hide if you’re content to observe. So this is me hiding in the open tonight and talking with the voices in my head. Heh.

“Life is something that happens when you can't get to sleep.” -- Fran Lebowitz

Crud...

2004-07-16T14:09:00.000-04:00

Today I would have sworn that I was cursed, walked under 36 ladders, broke a few mirrors, and pissed off a testy leprechaun. I woke up to a normal day, until of course I tripped over one of the 3 billion puppy toys scattered about discovering that I’m too old to be attempting the splits. Half crawling half stumbling I made it to the shower... after cursing like a sailor and uselessly admonishing a curious puppy about leaving things all over. Once in the shower I thought I was safe... that the bad luck that loomed couldn’t touch me. I did what anyone does, I began to sing. If you didn’t already know, I’m the worst singer possible... apparently my shower agreed. One second I’m heading into a particularly bad rendition of “Hey Mickey” complete with a little head bobbing action, and the next second I’m being smacked between the eyes with the showerhead that popped off.... That shut me up... until I started cursing once again.

I escaped the shower with my life and started to search around on the back of the toilet for my glasses... I have the vision of a 90 year old. My hand was feeling around on the cold porcelain until I heard a *plop*. I froze.... And cursed. That could only mean one thing.... one disgusting thing. Fumbling towards the sink I managed to find my contacts and put them in. There was no way in hell I was going to go fishing for my glasses blind. I find it interesting that when I drop things into places they shouldn’t be I try to turn my head... as if that will make it any less disgusting. Um not really. At this point the puppy thought it was play time and dared to bring the toy I had tripped on into the bathroom.... TRAITOR!

The fact that I got to work without killing myself was a small miracle. However after almost falling asleep while typing (I’m just getting over that damn cold) I thought it would be better just to head home.... Too bad I lost my keys. So again I was cursing until I found them in the plant beside my desk. If I didn’t get home quickly I was scared that I would cause a major catastrophe... like setting my hair on fire.

Eventually I settled in for a nap. God I love a good nap.... unless the phone rings 65 hundred times. But thankfully my neighbor took the pup so I could sleep. Well that’s what she tells me. I think she just likes having something around willing to watch her “shows” with her. I think at some point I fell asleep... thank god. Then guess what... the phone rang. However at least this time it was a person that I love talking to so it was a much needed bright spot of the day of doom. Just then as I'm finishing my conversation, my dog was brought home... and she greeted me by scratching my nose off. I guess I didn’t need that anyway.

I finally got online later in the evening... and no I didn’t burn the place down making dinner. That’s shocking in and of itself. While chatting with someone I spilled my vitamin water. Crap. Standing up I tried to clean it up... messes by the computer are a big no no. Sadly the floor tends to get rather slippery when wet. So for the millionth time that day I found myself on my ass. This time I even tried to brace my fall.... unfortunately I pulled out half the cords in the puter out in the process. So guess what? That’s right.... I was cursing.

I think a good measure of the day is how often you curse. This one tipped the scales. But really, once I get beyond the moment I can see the humor in it. My sore rear can’t... but I can. So here I am hoping that you can see the humor in your day.... or at the very least you too have a bright spot that you can cling to.

“I have six locks on my door all in a row. When I go out, I only lock every other one. I figure no matter how long somebody stands there picking the locks, they are always locking three.” -- Elayne Boosler

Trivial

2004-07-13T04:44:00.000-04:00

Sometimes life is about the little things. I’m a huge fan of the little things, and I wonder why so many people choose not to see them. When people point out how much I love something small I always jokingly say, “simple mind simple pleasures.” And yes it’s a joke. But really I am rather simplistic. I don’t mean my intelligence or personality, just in wants and needs. I figure it’s rather masochistic to sit there waiting for some huge complicated thing when something small can warm your heart.

There’s nothing better than heading to your mailbox and coming away with something that isn’t a bill or someone making you some baked goods. I love going to a movie and sitting there wondering where I know a voice from suddenly to realize that the voice of the fairy godmother in Shrek 2 was none other than Jennifer Saunders from Abfab. If you can make me laugh you immediately intrigue me. That’s so rare and such a small thing that it’s extremely powerful. I can spend hours with a web game or tinkering on my computer perfectly content with the world. Even hearing someone say in a voice that suddenly softens “goodnight” is incredible to me. It’s small yes, but whether it’s a friend or love it still makes you feel important.

Someone told me today, “Oh you’re so simple” in that scoffing and irritating way. It was as if they were saying I was incapable of deep emotions or thoughts because something silly amused me for hours. So what? I have serious issues and weight that sits on my shoulders. I wouldn’t want to know me if I didn’t use something good to balance it however small and trivial. Of course this is the same person, and we all have one of these people, that seems to make herself feel better if she can shred you down a bit. “How can you be in a good mood with blah going on?” It’s like they want to remind you to kill of whatever happiness you were allowing yourself.

This is how it is. The stuff has hit the fan, I know that... I don’t need your reminder. I don’t care if you think I should wallow or scream into the night. I don’t choose to live like you do and not find something.... ANYthing to be happy about or to amuse me if for a moment. I’m also not going to defend myself to you... I don’t much care what you think seeing as though your opinion of my life is so grand *rolling eyes*. I’ll just grab hold of those little things as my way of saying you can sod off. Not that you’d be bothering to read this anyway.

So really this isn’t about me asking for anyone to comment about me in a positive way... it's not needed. Just find something that will amuse you today for 10 mins and I’ll be happy. Spend your energy reading a good story, listening to some good music, talking to your friends, or just calling someone for no reason. Just do something that you’ll find enjoyable.

Oh and thanks for alla the well wishes folks... I’m feeling much better. Those who come here and read these words or are a part of my little online world are a good part of those things that bring me some happiness. So thank you.

“Happiness is your dentist telling you it won't hurt and then having him catch his hand in the drill.” -- Johnny Carson

Pass the tissues

2004-07-10T18:19:00.000-04:00

Well this will be rather random and make no sense. That’s what happens when one uses an enormous amount of cold medicine and sleeps less than a bat with too much caffeine. I figure this could end up being either amusing or make no sense what-so-ever. Either way I blame the cold medicine.... too bad we can’t do that everyday of our lives eh? (And yes before anyone says anything I just have a small cold not pneumonia.)

First of all I have recently discovered that while sick I seem to lose the ability to think. And I’m not talking about deep philosophical discussions either... No, I’m talking about paying for my food in the drive through and then driving off. Nothing makes you feel more like a dumbass than some poor employee running after you to hand you the sub sandwich that you probably shouldn’t be eating anyway. What made this incident particularly bad was that I had to go inside and tell the counter person that yes I was indeed the moron that took off without their food. I really don’t think the snickering I heard was necessary, but I probably deserved it. However, if you think that this is an isolated thing you’d be wrong. Sadly I have done this several times. I’m also the person that walks into the drugstore with no clue as to why I was there in the first place.

Going to the drugstore while sick is an interesting experience. Now if you are lucky enough to live with someone you probably don’t have to do this. So let me give you a run down of what it’s like. First of all you wander in trying not to look like death. I shall steal one of my favorite lines and say that you look like you were on deaths door but the bouncer wouldn’t let you in because you don’t look sexy enough. Yet you try to straiten out your sweats that have at least 3 holes in them and tuck the Kleenex you stalked up on for the drive back into your pocket. Sadly your sense of direction seems to be hindered so you just kind of wander around with no clue as to where to find the drugs.... you hope they will be the kind that shoot out of a gun and could take down an elephant. They have to keep the elephant tranquilizers in there someplace right?

Finally you find the cold medicine aisle. You would have found it faster but the employees see you coming and scatter not wanting to catch whatever it is that made you look like the walking dead... that and the fact that you aren’t exactly Mary Sunshine at this point. You stand in front of what looks to be 8 billion boxes of goo, pills, sprays, liquids, and snake oils all guaranteed to take away whatever ails you. It’s the same feeling one must get when standing at the foot of a small mountain.... like Everest. You have no idea what to do. The music that is drifting over the speakers is making you want to sway. “I can do this” you chant to yourself. So you do what everyone before you has done. You pick up the most colorful box and attempt to read what symptoms it’s for.... a process that would be much easier if you hadn’t drained what was left of the last bottle of cough syrup a half hour ago and your swaying that is making the letters move about.

Here is where the real problem comes in. The blue box will fix your throat, the red your nose, the orange your sneezing and coughing but not the headache, the green will cure your runny nose, but yours is also stuffy which needs the yellow box. Here's where you just want to cry. What do you do? You can get them all... if you want to pickle yourself. No you need to make a choice. And there is no way in hell you are getting something that isn’t extra strength. Who buys something that might as well say, “This is a placebo, it won’t make you feel better, but it’s cherry flavored.” Then you have a sore throat so you know that if you get a pill it has to be smaller than a Buick... this leaves out 80% of your options. Now you just blindly grab a few options because you are getting rather tired and only one eye will stay open. You’ll just have to hope that when you get home you can figure out what the hell all these things do. You of course make sure to nab a package of cough drops even though in your kitchen drawer there is probably 3 others from the late 70’s. You are now ready to head to the counter and get home to your electric blanket and daytime television.

You head to the checkout line and realize that you need to blow your nose. Not the most pleasant thing for someone to witness. The problem is your hands are full. Now you have to become the irritating sniffer. Everyone knows what this noise means and gives you a 10 foot bubble of personal space as if your germs can’t reach outside your containment field. You get to the front of the line finally and plop everything on the counter. Looking up you notice that the checker looks like a camp counselor and you just know she will be chipper. For those of you that don’t know... sick people don’t want to deal with chipper. We want to kick you in the head, but we are too weak so we just sniff and fumble for a tissue and mentally curse your name.... Amber.... Bubbles... Kandy with a K... whatever.

We hand them the money with a shaking hand and nod to some asinine question like, “So are you not feeling well?” I should hope that people would assume that I'm sick and don’t just go gallivanting around town looking like an Adams Family reject. But you nod and attempt a smile as you snatch your bag away from them and their “have a nice day” smile. Stumbling to your car you start dreaming about being home already.

Once home you dump out your stash. It’s just like you used to do on Halloween except the candy on Halloween tastes better. You sift through just barely stopping yourself from taking one of everything. You find what you are searching for and take more than the recommended dosage. You don’t care now... What you're looking for is the nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, favor, how the hell did I fall into this coma medicine. Now if you could just get the puppy to stop raiding the trash for Kleenex you’ll be happy.

“Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.” -- Erma Bombeck

Vegetate

2004-07-08T20:13:00.000-04:00

The last couple days I’ve been a tad under the weather. Not a really big deal. What I find funny is that most people when sick vegetate in front of the television with a bowl of soup and a box of Kleenex. That would be a normal thing to do. I, because I am freakishly geeky, insist on spending that time with a box of Kleenex and tinkering on the computer. I was even looking for things to tinker with. There’s something about mindless work that makes me feel better. Oh don’t get me wrong... I was still able to catch 37 rerun episodes of the ‘Golden Girls’ on Lifetime. So I got my veg quota in. The reason I bother saying all this in case anyone was wondering why I changed the look of this here blog. It’s not really that I like this one better; it’s just that I needed a tinkering fix.

I’m not a very pleasant person when I’m not feeling well. I’m not saying that normally I’m a pearl of happiness or anything, but when sick I turn into a horrifying combination of a three toed sloth and Roseanne Barr. It’s an interesting combination and one that I’m sure will do wonders for my social life in general. I remember days when there was someone around when I wasn’t feeling well. And even though I was a pain in the ass and prolly resembled a groaning grumpy pile of Kleenex, it was still nice to have someone there. I’m not the type of person that wants to be coddled when sick. Toss the things I need at me and head for cover. I just wanna dwell in my own unhealthiness. But there was something about the knowledge that someone was within shouting distance. Maybe one day... Though half my problem is that first I would have to ask someone to be here even though the risk is that they can in fact say no. Until then I will happily continue to tinker about on this puter and try to discover if there is something really going on between Blanche and Rose.

“The New England Journal of Medicine reports that 9 out of 10 doctors agree that 1 out of 10 doctors is an idiot.” -- Jay Leno

No Potluck

2004-07-05T02:55:00.000-04:00

I’m BACK!! Okay I have two things to apologize for here. First: Sorry it’s been so long. Sometimes we just need a break. Sometimes taking a step back is the only way to figure out where the hell you’re going.... Well that and a good map seeing as though I’d get lost going to the grocery store. Second: This is going to be a long post... so if you haven’t yet, grab a cup of coffee, hunker down, call in the children, get comfortable, and any other euphemism that means, this sucker is freaking long so be warned. (FYI: It’s 4 am so spelling and grammatical errors are a given tonight)

The Potluck Play

The 4th of July is full of them. All across this country this little tradition will take place. No matter where you are, where you go, who is around you, they’re all the same. It’s a strange phenomenon this potluck thing. I like to think of it as a play. Because no matter where you are the script and the characters are the same, much like life. Above all, as amazing as it sounds, you can tell a lot about someone if you look past their character in the Potluck Play.

Let me give you the basics shall I? There’re several groups of people that will attend every potluck. There’s a group of women that live for these events. I’ll call them the peacocks. They make a dish in an attempt to outdo another. It’s the same type of measurement that must take place in a men’s locker room. You’ll always have another group of people that love to be social, they’re the humming birds. They’ve brought an easy dish as they had to squeeze it in between their son’s soccer match and their daughter that needed to go to a birthday party. There’s an older category of people, the eagles, which are old enough to be grandparents. They love to bring in their old family recipe for some dish like enchiladas or fried chicken. There’s the lone soul, the crow, who comes to eat and run. They often forget to contribute food, but are always the first in line to get some. The last group, apart from the partners that were drug to the event by another, is the sparrows. They’re the average Joe. They bring something simple, try to be polite, make some small talk, and then get the hell outta Dodge. This is the largest group in the Potluck Play.

Now you are wondering why I am going into all this? Well, there’s a lot you can learn about people from these little socials. I’m not really a fan of the potluck. That probably has something to do with the fact that I would never subject someone to my cooking unless I was planning to kill them for the insurance money... I jest people stop worrying. So I sit there and do what I always do... I people watch. I watch as the peacocks strut about asking everyone who couldn’t escape their approach if they had tried whatever it is that they brought. Then of course you have to tell them that it was wonderful and could you please have the recipe. The crow chows down on his food in a desperate attempt to get the hell out of there without having to say a single word and just before the button on his pants pops off. The peacocks whisper about him and make snide remarks about him just being there in order to eat. The eagles are after the sparrows to eat more... we are either too skinny or haven’t had a home cooked meal in way too long. They want to see your face as you bite into their special dish. They pinch our cheeks and call us honey. The poor humming birds are running after their children who are on a little high because the hit the dessert table first.

That’s what you see if you look on the surface. No huge meaning... just normal potluck pandemonium. What would happen if we as people took a step back and bothered to look a bit deeper? It’s so easy to scoff at the crow that came just to eat. It’s easy to say he is rude when he eats more than his share and doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Would your opinion change of him if you knew that last year at about this time this man lost his wife of 30 years to cervical cancer? Would you bother to see that he was just so lonely he just needed to be around people but couldn’t bear to be social himself? Would the peacocks that judge him and cut him down care that this was one of the first times in a year he had something that wasn’t heated in the microwave oven? Would you now scoff or leave him to his sorrow and to his fledging hope that there is life after her death?

Would you find the humming bird more social and give them credit for attending if you found out that this was the first chance they had in weeks to attend a function that would involve adult conversation? Would you cut them some slack when their child ran past you spilling your soda down the front of your shirt if you knew that this was the first time in months that they didn’t have to worry about dinner? They could relax knowing where their children are and be able to breathe that rare relaxing breath that only a young parent appreciates. Would the peacocks hold back their bitterness that they brought something store bought if they knew the humming bird hadn’t sat down in over 13 hours?

If we really took the time and bothered to see, wouldn’t we see the eagle isn’t annoying in her tendency to nag or play mother hen to the sparrow? They aren’t being snobs for ignoring the strutting of the peacocks. Would we understand them a bit better if we knew that their own children only call on holidays as they now have families of their own? Would we let them pinch our cheeks if we knew they had so much love to give and only an empty house to give it to? I’d like to think that their dish, that had been handed down through generations of their family was a gift that they are bringing. They drew on their roots to create something that has been on their own family’s tables for years for a group of relative strangers. They in essence are looking for an outlet..... any outlet for their love.

The peacocks who have been so judgmental will be the butt of many jokes after the potluck ends. People will talk of their insanity and their caustic words. What if we knew that they just simply craved attention and don’t know of a better way of getting it? I’ll bet no one cared to know that Janet, the lead peacock, is stuck in a loveless marriage... Or that peacock #2 had her husband leave her after 7 years of marriage for another woman that made him feel younger. Would they gain our sympathy when we realized that they had nothing of their own, that these two woman need something to cling to, some small victory to give them some confidence. Yes, they show it in a horrible way... but does that make them any less deserving of a second look?

What about our little sparrow, folks like me? They hear the snickering and can see the eye rolling over the fact that again they just brought paper plates and cups. They are the losers that have no respect for authority and aren’t willing to put forth enough effort to even cook something. If you looked again you would see me. You’d see that I’m just fumbling around looking for my wings. You’d see that I don’t have the money to pay all of my bills or enough to eat any meal over $5. Would it matter to you that I spent way too much time in the store looking for just the right plates. That maybe I was not taught how to cook and really have no talent for it. That maybe I am learning how to be on my own and taste life. Would it matter to you that the cups and plates you scoff at cost me more than I would spend on groceries for myself in 2 days? Would you call me lazy behind my back if you know I made sure at the store to get the kind that won’t drop the peacock’s famous baked beans in everyone’s lap?

That’s the thing. We all have problems. We all have a hole people will peg us into. We all have our reasons for playing the part we do in the Potluck Play. Somehow, someway, if others knew the reasons they would be less inclined to pigeonhole us. We would all just be birds. So this long freaking ramble is to help me remember today at my Potluck Play that everyone has their story. That if I judge them I will never get those wings that I’ve been looking for. Happy 4th everyone.... please remember a designated driver if you need one.

“Never trust a thin chef.” -- Anonymous

I can't sew

2004-05-30T01:42:00.000-04:00

If life were a quilt it wouldn’t be attractive. It wouldn’t be the kind that hangs on some wall with no real purpose other than to look pretty. It wouldn’t be in a museum or even locked away in an old cedar chest. It would be the old tattered raggedy looking thing than you love to pull around yourself when sick. The one worth having wouldn’t be the display model, but would be the one that has a stain in the corner from where as a child you spilled a touch of grape juice. It would be the one that was made up of patches from old loved articles of clothing. It would be both dark and light, have varying textures, would smell like childhood, have one or two holes, would have tear stains, and its tattered form would be held together by a thread.

There are some days where you wish you could hide away with the quilt pulled over your shoulders. These are the days that you run your hands along the fabric of your life. You see a light blue patch that brings you happily back in time to a single moment where you remember twirling in the kitchen wearing the blue dress that the patch was cut from. Your fingers brush across the frayed edges when your mind travels to the moments that you wish you could forget and to the current struggle you are having within your life. Eventually though your hand will travel away from the frayed edges and back onto the whole, onto the colors and patterns of your life. If you’re lucky, in that moment you can see the whole. You can see that your life isn’t made up of the edges, but rather the various squares of color. Sometimes you just have to move away from the edge.

As you can tell from my melodramatic wanderings, it’s the end of the month..... Bill time. It’s the time where you sit down and have to add up your wins and failures. You have to find a way to stay afloat when adrift. You have to prepare for the next month, when you will begin the cycle of treading water once again. Have I mentioned that I hate bills and bill collectors? I realize that you have to make a living, but upon accepting that job you are also accepting that I refuse to be polite when you call me in the early morning hours asking for something you know good and well I don’t have. If I did, you wouldn’t have to call. So I’ll just tinker online tonight (heh you can’t call if the phone is busy) with my blanket over my legs and forget about you for now.... well that and come up with a sure fire way to pick the winning lotto numbers.

“The wages of sin are death, but by the time taxes are taken out, it's just sort of a tired feeling.” -- Paula Poundstone

Doh...

2004-05-25T20:54:00.000-04:00

Have you ever had a day where you have to stop because you come to the realization that you're monumentally stupid? I’m talking about those moments of clarity when you discover that those moronic acts that annoy you are also the ones you’re guilty of. We don’t tell people of our insanity or odd quirks. No, we tuck them away as if they were a national secret until someone stumbles on them by accident. If we would have been upfront and told people that we were insane they wouldn’t be shocked, but no we wait until they can witness it for themselves. Today I had one of those moments of clarity.

It seems I am one of those people that will moan and groan (not a pleasant sight) over the price of gas and will go so far as to drive around town looking for the lowest gas prices. So in other words, I will drive, thus using gas, an extra 20 minutes out of my way to get gas that's 3 cents cheaper. Have I saved anything? No. Especially if you factor in the time I spent along with it. So what I end up doing is probably spending an extra buck with the delusion that I’m saving money. On the other hand I wont even bat an eye when I then go and spend money on a lotto ticket. Again I’m seriously thinking that I have a chance to win. In fact it’s my master financial plan. I’ll even spend money on silly putty (I kid you not). I’m notorious for over tipping, yet I will drive 45 mins longer to find a grilled chicken sandwich that is one dollar cheaper. Who the hell am I kidding? It’s not like I don’t have the ability to do simple math.

Now I’m sure I’m not the only one that does these things. So why do we hide our quirks from others? I find them to be the most interesting things about someone. None of us are perfect, so isn’t the meat of a person in the imperfections? Hell, I say we celebrate our quirks! The next time you're talking to yourself in the car and you realize someone is watching form another car... Don’t pretend like you were singing along with the radio... Roll down your window and ask them for their opinion. When you trip because for some reason your legs thought there was another step... Don’t get upset.... Point out to those around you that there isn’t a stair there and someone must have stolen it. Wouldn’t it be better if we enjoyed and laughed over these supposed faults or goofs? I’ll start... As I type this right now I have a *huge* blue smudge on my cheek because I had the cap in my mouth while I tried to recap the *permanent* marker one handed. So now I’ll go into the grocery store for a Mountain Dew tonight with my head held high and blue on my cheek. LoL.

Pup-Date:

I told you yesterday about the hippopotamus that the puppy of doom was trying to teach to swim. I refuse to think that she was rejecting my gift seeing as though at the moment she is sleeping with it. So I thought I’d post a picture of the little mongrel and her buddy... As you can see her ears have started growing independently. They use to be tilted the same... now they each are doing their own thing. Yes I know she looks a bit silly, but it couldn’t fit her more... It's not the best picture in the world, but it's not easy to get that thing to sit still.

“When you become senile, you won't know it.” -- Bill Cosby

U giv SPAM?

2004-05-24T22:22:00.000-04:00

So here it is... the truth of all truths. It’s the inescapable universal fact... sometimes life sucks. It’s true for everyone, so why is it that some people seem to believe that they alone have to deal with this? Or there are people that think there’s some kind of cosmic tote board that tracks the number of good days you’ve had and at some magical number unleashes a rip-roaring bad day? Where would we be if we didn’t have one of those days that make you want to run and hide under your bed? You’d never appreciate the mundane day that isn’t exciting and tends to be the majority of your days? So there are people out there who can only see the bad in everything and will inevitably grab hold of a dip in their road and turn it into the fall of civilization as we know it. Sometimes I want to freak out like that.

I want to hide under my bed with a bottle of water, a can of spam, and duct tape until the storm passes. (Of course there has to be duct tape... duct tape is essential for any kind of quality of life). I’d crawl under there when, for example: my hair looks like a cyclone hit it, I find out that a friend really isn’t, I spill a cup of coffee that cost more than a tank of gas all over me, find out that what I’m eating had been expired for a few days, my puppy eats my drivers license, I do my budget and discover that I wont be making my rent this month, I blow up the kitchen while trying to make mini muffins, my car breaks down and will cost me my first born to fix, I get a traffic ticket, I have to run the judgmental gauntlet AKA family get-togethers, or I just woke up late. But no... I have to be an adult.

Here’s the thing. We spend our childhoods waiting to be an adult able to make our own decisions. Once we become an adult we realize that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. We actually find that we wish we didn’t have to be one. I don’t want to have to choose what I’ll be doing with my life now. I mean it was great when I used to be able to say, “When I grow up I wanna....” Now I am grown up and I don’t have an answer.

Oops. I shouldn’t have snickered at Penny Mitchell in 5th grade when she unveiled her 5 year plan. She’ll prolly be the first female president, and I’ll be her chauffeur. Okay maybe I’m exaggerating, but my point is that I wanna be a kid again. I want to be able to look at the world with eternal optimism and not have to think about the leader of our nation being a complete incompetent. I want to be able to go back and correct some of my mistakes. The thing is, I can’t.

Where is all of this going? Well I ran into someone I hadn’t seen for like 6 years the other day. I was back in a place I hadn’t been in a while doing something I wasn’t sure I could still do. Vague enough for you? Well the details don’t really matter the point was this person hadn’t seen me in so long that I realized that she had no idea of the mistakes I’d made or the path my life has taken. I had a choice here. I could be the person that embellishes everything and makes it sound like the only reason they have not been nominated for sainthood was that they weren’t dead yet. Or I could tell the person a sob story making them and those around them need a handful of antidepressants.

I chose to go another way. I said a noncommittal answer, something like, “Oh this and that, no big news.” Leaving them to tell me all about their life... which I loved hearing about don’t get me wrong. But hello? It had been 6 years... did this person really think absolutely nothing had happened in my life? Maybe they thought I was living in a hole or something. Who was I kidding? The better question is why would I be embarrassed to tell someone I never see about my life? If they don’t like what they hear who cares? We all make mistakes, no one is perfect. So why do I expect that of myself and not others?

I realize that this post is rather scattered and lacking in a basic theme, but it’s been so long since I posted I think my brain is just unleashing my chaos on all you unsuspecting souls. The point is that I hide or try to.... I want to hide from the decisions and their consequences, and I want to hide my failures from others. But really who am I kidding? The only person that I am fooling is myself and the good parts tend to fade when you try to conceal the bad. For at least one moment of everyday we should all be forced to stand before ourselves and others naked.... um wait I take that back.... The next thing you know people would take that literally and show up at my place with a camera. I really don’t need a citation for indecent exposure.

Pup-date:

The puppy of doom is growing up. Why can’t we keep them small and fuzzy? On the plus side this means she is getting the idea of how the world works and what she can and cannot do. She’s even lost a few teeth. She still has her two front teeth but not the ones on each side. So really she looks like a large gerbil. So now I’m left with a dog who thinks she’s a cat, yet looks like a rodent. The other day I got sick of having to move the couch every time she tossed her toy under there (about 347 times a day) so I bought her a hippopotamus that was too large to fit under the bed and just small enough for her to still pick up (even if it does make her a bit top heavy). So I thought I had done it, I solved the problem. Ha! That’ll teach me to make an assumption that I’m smarter than a dog. So I wake up this morning to find that the toy she loved last night had a new home.... the toilet. That’ll teach me.

“Even god passes gas once in a while... so why can’t we?” -- My Dad.

Questions can be stupid too...

2004-05-12T14:51:00.000-04:00

Some things just are; they’re absolute. The moon will always rise, the sun will always set, the hot water will run cold in the shower as soon as my head is good and soapy, my mother will always nag, Steel Magnolias will always make me cry, Absolutely Fabulous will always make me laugh, and I will always question everything. Why is that? Oh crap there I go again. Why can’t I stop? See, it’s a sickness really. I’ll give you a few examples. I’ll only give you a few for fear you’ll see just how far my sickness goes:

Why are infomercials on only late at night? Is the plan that people will be tired thus lowering their ability for rational thought? Do they realize that the people asleep at those times are probably the ones that can afford the 6 easy payments of $69.95 for the thingamabob that’s not only a vegetable chopper and fruit juicer, but could improve your television reception and become the newest fad collectable? I mean they have to wake up in the morning for work. So really what you’re left with that late are sleepless fools like me, and the occasional college student with no money who’s cramming for a test the next day they’re bound to fail because they just began studying an hour ago and are still on the table of contents in the textbook. Why can’t infomercials have their own channel? QVC has one, why not them? And really if fishing, car racing, and knitting can have their own channel why not everything else?

Why does the city charge you per bag for your garbage? Wouldn’t it be better if they charged by weight? Have little scales on the back of the truck and then bill you per month? Wouldn’t that convince people to recycle more? I mean glass is heavy stuff. Maybe that would stop people at apartment complexes from tossing their old couch next to the dumpster. Do they really think that thing will fit in the truck? Um... no. So then it sits there for ages becoming not only an eyesore but a home for who knows what. Maybe that’s just here, but right now by the dumpster there’s probably an old couch from the early 60’s, two end tables, and a rather odd looking fake tree. Why not give them to goodwill? You already had to haul that sucker out there... at least get yourself the tax deduction. I often wonder if those were all placed there by an angry wife who caught her husband cheating so she put all of his things out by the dumpster.

Why do people do all of their shopping at the convenience store? First of all, they really aren’t all convenient, and second they are so over priced it’s insane. They don’t have carts so these people walk about with their arms full, trying to figure out how to carry the last item with their teeth. They then pay $327 for gas, a gallon of milk, some soap, something from the frozen foods that might have been their since the turn of the century, toilet paper, and various other things. How hard would it be to go across the street to the grocery store? Not to mention that someone has to wait in line behind you with a bottle of pop while some checker needing a smoke break checks you out. It makes no sense to me. I mean I’m all for getting a few things there, but I really don’t think it’s all that sane to consider that intelligent one-stop shopping.

How can people remember an order at Starbucks that’s more complicated than deciphering lost text from some ancient city? I’ve seen people that are ordering one cup of coffee that has 39 steps. These are the same people that then cannot remember what time they were supposed to be at work so they rush out of the coffee house (only after taking that cup over and doctoring even further with various sprinkles of some substance) and then speed past you in traffic cutting you off while they yell at their stock broker on the cell phone. Of course they end up at the very same light as you only now they’re pounding on their steering wheel and honking their horn at the person in front of them. Where do they think this is going to get them? It’s a red light. Maybe we should all just pull over and let them on by because they couldn’t leave their house sooner or make their own damn coffee. Just once I want to be able to give these people a ticket. All they're doing is stressing themselves and everyone else out in order to make it to work 30 seconds faster. Why not just turn on some music and enjoy the drive?

I wonder about a lot. There’s always some random question with no answer running around my brain. I’d love to ask you the questions I wonder about, but sometimes it’s not the right time or place. Sometimes the answer isn’t something I’m ready to deal with. Sometimes I just fear your answer or I think that it’s silly for me to be questioning something in the first place. So I keep them to myself. Some things should be certain like friendship, love, trust, family, and intentions. (When I say "you" I mean all the people in my life, I don't discriminate with my neurosis.) So why is it I feel the need to question everything and perhaps put that the things important in jeopardy? I guess that is just another question for me to think about on my drive to work this morning.

“Skill is successfully walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls. Intelligence is not trying.” – Anonymous

Thief

2004-05-11T05:26:00.000-04:00

I stole from you. You thought you’d won. I can see it in your eyes when I have the misfortune of looking upon your face. You first see me and the pride is sickening, but if I hold your gaze I’d swear I could see shame. Maybe it’s just my imagination, or maybe I just like to think that there is some good in everything even if it is hidden under a landslide of darkness. But you didn’t win. I’m not broken. I stole back the life you tried to smother. I no longer hide in the dark from the memory of you. Your fist holds nothing over me; I no longer cower at its memory. So when I saw you today you must’ve realized that I’m the thief and you are nothing.

“Dignity consists not in possessing honors, but in the consciousness that we deserve them.” -- Aristotle

Pants of doom

2004-04-23T17:02:00.000-04:00

In school I *hated* poetry. It drove me nuts that there was no right answer yet they seemed to expect one from you. I could never pinpoint why I liked something or why I didn’t; it just was. Trust me; that answer never worked on any essay question. There’re so many things in life that don’t have an answer. Some things you just have to accept as is. People are like that. You can’t change them, and they are never all wrong or right. Yet for some reason it’s as if you are supposed to see others as one or another.

I tend to see people as the good and overlook the bad. This isn’t necessarily a good thing as it tends to bite you in the ass at a later date. There are also people that can point out flaws in any person from 400 yards away like some kind of judgmental sniper. You tend to wonder if that person will ever be happy with anyone let alone themselves. After all, they do have to look at themselves in the mirror everyday. Then there are the rare people that see your faults and accept them as the whole. They see what you hide and embrace it. I want to know how they do that, and thank them for it.

So today I was in the mall. Normally I love the mall and people watching because I enjoy making up stories about all the people that I see. Unfortunately I couldn’t enjoy myself because I was on a mission. I had to buy some dress pants. God I hate trying on clothes. If you’re one of those perfectly shaped people stop reading right here as nothing I am going to say will make any sense; It’ll all be over your head. Now if you stopped reading we can talk about you. Because really, who is perfectly shaped? What the hell would that be? Aerodynamically you should be a walking triangle with a point for the front of your body; that would be perfectly shaped. Anyway, that wasn’t my point. My point is that I had to run what I like to refer to as “the gauntlet”, or the dressing rooms.

I want to find the person that designs dress pants and ring their scrawny neck. I want them to have to go through this process of trying on pants after pants only to find out they’re still too small. I want them to have to carry an armload of the same color of pants around a busy department store. I want them to inhale and suck in with all their might only to find out that “loose fitting” is anything but. Then and only then, do I want them to head to their little drafting table. How hard would it be to stop designing for models the size of a designer lamp and start doing it for real people that have *gasp* curves.

So there I was cursing myself out and looking in the mirror at my ass. I couldn’t miss it thanks to the three mirrors in there specially designed for me to *have* to look at it. Of course it didn’t help that one limb was always forced to hold the “door” closed because of the broken lock as to not display all my secrets to passersby.

To be honest I was *not* happy. In fact, I’m sure that if that horrible woman hadn’t kept knocking on my shingle of a door to ask if everything was alright, I probably would have been crying. Why you ask? Well because I remember how things were. I remember enjoying shopping for clothes. I remember when I fit into a pair of fucking pants without using the Jaws of Life. I was mentally beating the crap outta myself. No one can say anything worse to you than what women seem to say to themselves at times like these. You might say I’m being melodramatic. Not really, I was looking at the personification of all that was wrong with my life. It was just another thing.

Then suddenly I realized what I was doing. Here I was worried about some of the more unpleasant things that people have said to me, and that I had said in my own mind. No, I’m not perfect. God, I’m *so* not perfect. And you know what? So what. It isn’t me. I’m more than the sum of what I see under bad lighting and poorly fitting pants. I realized that frankly I don’t give a fuck what those people who can only see the bad think. I don’t want them in my life anyway. I realized that by getting upset and berating myself, I was only making myself into the kind of person that I hate. I don’t judge others that way so why would I do it to myself?

So this is me... If you don’t like it I can’t worry about it. I need to worry about who I see everyday in the mirror not what. Was this epiphany enough to make me stop looking at myself in a negative light entirely? Well no of course not. But I did walk out of that dressing room with a pair of pants. I’m tired of this place I keep trying to aspire to be closed off into like a caged lab rat just to fit into someone else’s version of beauty. I am just me. And one day I will have the courage to show you who that is.

“The absence of flaw in beauty is itself a flaw.” -- Havelock Ellis

Pupdate

2004-04-22T20:20:00.000-04:00

Oh to be a dog. This little puppy of mine has no shame. She is still scared of men for the most part, but has no fear in walking right up to a woman and rolling over in hopes of a tummy rub. Wouldn’t it be great if life was like that? I would try that, but I’m sure I’d end up getting arrested. She also discovered something that could be useful later in life. She can swim. She has a strange fascination with leafs, and so when she saw one floating in the pool she thought nothing of pouncing on it. Imagine her surprise when she came up sputtering. That leaf actually got the best of her. So she frantically swam back to the side of the pool.

She wouldn’t let me help her out. Apparently it was my fault. How you ask? I have no idea, but just from the scathing look she flashed me I knew that somehow someway it was all my fault.

She forgave me when I slipped her a treat. As I have said before, I’m not above basic bribery. Again something I could be arrested for if given other circumstances. Wouldn’t it be great if we all could forgive as easily?

Here is a picture of her after a bath, but it should give you an idea of what she looked like... that or you can just as easily picture a drowned rat:

“All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection. So I rate us on the basis of our splendid failure to do the impossible.” -- William Faulkner

My poor toe...

2004-04-10T07:00:00.000-04:00

Where does coordination go when you're sleeping? I don’t know about you, but when I wake up I look like a robot that has lost all directional control. I’m amazed I have yet to kill myself in the shower or that I can even find the shower. I am like a toddler that has lost her way. You would almost think that I was sleep walking to my local bar for a pint of vodka. That and my IQ is non-existent. I will answer the phone and have a full conversation and not remember one single thing about it. Later people will ask me a question about the elephants in tutus that I was talking about when they called, and I'll have to feign that I have a clue of what they are saying. It’s the same feeling you get when someone tells you the *real* lyrics to songs you have been singing wrong for years.

The color of money

2004-04-07T17:05:00.000-04:00

There are several phrases that when first spoken sound good or intelligent. They sound like something you can get behind until that is you actually sit down to think about them. One phrase that comes to mind is, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” That sounds rather simplistic and it could be true, unless of course a pact with enemy #2 would be like making a deal with the devil. But the phrase that I’m thinking about now and gets tossed around by people who think it sounds idealistic is, “Money can’t buy you happiness.” Sure at first glance this sounds realistic because the things that *do* have real meaning in life tend to be relationships and emotions. However, when you really look at it, this phrase is inherently flawed and is utter crap. In fact the first people that will say this phrase are those with money. The bottom line is that you could have all of the things that people strive for and be miserable if you don’t have enough money to survive. Money may not be able to *buy* you happiness, but without it you will surely buy yourself a heap load of misery. Now before you get your britches in a bunch and hit that comment button to point out where I have gone wrong listen to the rest of this post.

Not to long ago I had everything. I had friends, a decent relationship with family, health, and love. What I didn’t have was money. Now I’m not talking about enough money to buy you alla the geeky toys you drool over at the department store. I’m talking about the kind of broke where words like eviction, bill collectors, reposition, and overdue balance; become part of your everyday vocabulary. I’m talking about when you have to sell your plasma for something to eat for the next few days, lie to family to get a few dollars, have no place to call home, bounce from friend to friend looking for a place to sleep, and find all the places in town that might serve some kind of free food. I’ve done all of these things, I have been the person that is hated because they are a walking breathing drain and burden to all that they know. I wasn’t the kind of person you would have wanted to know. I didn’t really even want to know me. Even with the best of relationships you are miserable. It is a feeling like none other. You do things that make you cringe and you have little in your life to take pride in; it changes you. You are drowning while walking, and the weight of your worry is like an elephant sitting on your back.

Eventually I had to almost sell my soul for a loan to find an apartment in the worst area of town. It doesn’t end there. No, now my girlfriend at the time and I had to decide what bills to pay and what to put off. What bills can go one more month? You make sacrifices like shutting off the gas so you can have electric. Who really needs heat or hot water in winter? Eventually those things that are important like friends and relationships become so strained that they snap and desegregate into the pit you have dug for yourself.

At this time I knew a man that was in his 70s. He worked 50 hours a week at Burger King and had wild silver hair and the most amazing sky blue eyes you’d ever see. He was homeless. He couldn’t get a bank account without an address, so every time he cashed his check he would either be hit up or jumped for his money by others that were just as desperate. I don’t think this man would agree that money couldn’t buy him at least some relief from his current troubles.

I say all this because today someone I was walking with saw me give a homeless man some money. They started in on how this man was lazy or that he would just go and buy beer with it. Well my response was that it is none of my business what this man chooses to spend this money on. He is an adult. What *is* my business is to give that man the opportunity to buy something that for a moment will bring him joy. I didn’t care if he bought food or tossed the money out a window. That’s not the point. What right would I have to judge him or dictate what he does with what he is given? I am not in his shoes.

The ironic thing is something I have said before many times. The people that really can’t afford to give often are the ones that give the most simply because they understand. I’ve seen homeless people pool their money or give it to another. What I don’t see often are people driving around in cars designed to show off their money with their hand stretched out the window to the woman selling papers. Am I better than these people, god no far from it. The thing is that I have been there and I know what it is like to live in a daily struggle. I was never even as far as them so I don’t even know what they have to live like. The people who gave me hope and inspired me were those that had so little yet they were giving and were courageous for just getting up in the morning.

So today I sit here again deciding what bills I will pay and what can be put off. I don’t have the same pressure or weight on me but its memory is never far from my thoughts. I have to force myself to have hope and to continue to dig myself out. After all, my actions were a large part of me being there in the first place. Like I said yesterday, I am learning to again wish upon a star. I’m living in yet a different place and am working to move on. I still have a road to travel, but it’s nothing like where I was. But I also choose never to forget that experience even though I hated it, and didn’t care for who I was at the time. I’m totally different today than I was then, and I don’t think it would be fair to those I hurt at that time to forget.

My point today is that the next time you are driving around town and see someone that is selling papers at an intersection, think of what you would do if your life suddenly changed. Most of us are a pay check away from being there. So why not part with the few dollars that will make little difference to you but every difference to them. Most importantly look them in the eye. They are there; they are a person that deserves that respect. Whatever you do don’t pretend as if you don’t see them or judge them for their life’s choices. You haven’t earned that right, none of us have. I would just love for people that have money to understand how powerful it is and how very lucky they are. Take a step back and be thankful for all that’s around you. You might feel a loss at a relationship that brings you pain or stressed over something or other, but at least you have a home to shelter yourself in and Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer.

“One must be poor to know the luxury of giving.” -- George Eliot

I wish I may...

2004-04-06T04:37:00.000-04:00

When I was younger I used to make wish on a star every single night. They weren’t huge wishes like to win the lotto, but rather something small and secret. I remember wishing for something like the ability to make someone laugh the next day. I know that sounds odd for someone to wish for something like that, but I always thought that a wish should be something meaningful but not so large as it would be impossible for them all to come true. Doable dreams. And what do you know? About 90% of the time the wishes would come true.

For about a year I spent at least one night a week in a comedy club attempting to do stand-up; it was always fun and lent itself well to those little unspoken nightly wishes. I had confidence, I had motivation, and I had the energy to reach out and grab whatever it was I was looking for. Being busy wasn’t a chore; it just was how things were. But for several reasons things changed, and I stopped making those nightly wishes. Now, I’m not saying that those things aren’t still a part of me, just that life changes you, sometimes for the better, but it’s still a change. I wonder how much some of that correlates with me not looking up.

Around October I was feeling lonely for whatever reason. I’m sure we all have those times. So for the first time in what must have been 6 years I looked up and made a wish. I wished for a change and for the chance to make someone laugh. There’s nothing that feels quite the same as doing that. Well I did end up getting sucked back into an online world I had taken a break from for a few years and posting some silly story. I had always had an addiction to online fiction partly because I’m cheap and partly because the library is rather lacking in lesbian fiction. Its weird how life changes, I went from a tad lonely to being sucked into friendships and creativity.

I guess my rather long winded point was to let you know that if you have the chance maybe you too should look up and wish for something small and secret. You may have a walking dream in your arms, or you may have that empty ache that can occur at 3 am, but we all could use a bit of hope. That’s really what it is about, hope. Do I think that the stars have the power to change my life? No. But I do believe that when you choose to open yourself up to the possibilities life can change you. So I'll be out there tonight, I have a few things I'd love to wish for.

Pup-date: The little mongrel has now learned to jump on the bed and couch. I’m not one of those people that insist their dog not ever know the feel of furniture, but I do think I should get first dibs on where to sit. Anyway, she has these little sporadic bursts of energy that leave you wondering if she was on speed. I used to be safe if I just ducked and waited for the blur to settle down. Now, I’m in the path of the tornado. She will launch herself off the recliner right onto me and the couch. This would be endearing if she didn’t always have the remarkable ability to land right on places of my body that object. But for the most part it’s great because when she wants a nap she just climbs on up like a cat and sets up camp on what ever part of my body she deems acceptable. She seems to be a breast girl… that’s my baby!

“Hope is a waking dream.” -- Aristotle

Who do you think you are?

2004-04-03T19:31:00.000-05:00

It’s always about the little things; they’re what matters most in life. Often I think people forget about them. They look past them in hopes to find something huge. There really isn’t a big billboard that people will use to show you they care. No, they will show you in the things that often get overlooked. Let me give you a few examples of what I’m talking about:

There is a woman that oftentimes bakes things for people who live hundreds of miles away just so the person can enjoy them and smile. There are people who seem to always say the most important thing at the time you need it most. There are those that will drop you a line to say hello, or to let you know they appreciated something you said. They make you smile, or let you bitch. You hear their voice as they tell you goodnight, and hear their laugh when you say something amusing. It’s the fact that they remember the little things you mentioned, and nonsense stories you told. They think beyond themselves and are careful of how they say things. These are the things that seem to help them find a place in your heart and life. They are friends, family, and lovers. Regardless, they understand that it’s those little things that make all the difference in the world.

I wonder why more people don’t seem to understand this? I mean I’ve found this quality rare in people so I wonder why that is. Why do people seem to live in some kind of tunnel where they can’t see the people around them or the affect they have. Don’t they understand that their life will inevitably affect someone else’s? This makes no sense. I don’t understand how they can park in the handicapped spots, hold up lines without a care, insult you without a backwards glance, or forget that you too might need someone to listen once in a while too.

I guess I am trying to figure out how to tell the person that doesn’t think before they talk to me that it does bother me. I also have to find a way to tell those that remember the little things, and make me feel like a valuable person, that I appreciate it. So, if you have a chance today to find a way to say the things you need to, what are you waiting for? Everyday I see this couple here on Xanga, who don’t ever let a day pass without a post saying these things. It really is an inspiring sight. I have no idea what stops me from telling people that their late night words are special, but maybe it’s time I did.

Pup-date: I think that Velcro must be made in part with puppy hair. I mean the stuff sticks to you like nothing else and this pup can just walk by a bush and be covered in leaves. She ends up looking like the swamp thing. I guess it doesn’t help that she follows behind you and digs little holes everywhere she goes. At least she doesn’t mind the bath afterwards… though why after she takes it she has to go romping through my clean clothes pile I haven’t gotten around to folding yet is beyond me. That will show me for being so lazy with my chores.

“The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be.” --- Socrates

Puppy of Doom

2004-04-02T00:41:00.000-05:00

Oy, today has just turned out to be one of those days. The kind of day where you’re sure someone out there hates you and has been plotting against you. Now, you may think I’m exaggerating or being a wimp, but I bet by the time I’m done telling this story you all will want to come over and give me a cookie or something. Now, while telling this story you may feel as if you want to laugh, go ahead. I’m sure in about a month I will find this whole episode incredibly amusing.

Okay I woke up late, not really surprising seeing as though I stayed up ridiculously late yet again last night. After a few snoozes I eventually tossed the alarm across the room, but it wouldn’t stop the freaking thing from going off. I even tried the whole head under a pillow thing, but even that couldn’t stop that noise. So without any other choices I drug myself out of bed and stumbled to the puppy’s cage and then we made it outside without any major catastrophe, which is surprising considering that my puppy is a magnet for havoc.

Then I left the puppy to romp around while I took a shower. She made the mistake once of trying to follow me into the shower… she won’t make that mistake again. The look on her face when she realized that it was raining in just one spot of the room was too funny. She didn’t appreciate me laughing and pointing at her so she ate a roll of toilet paper and strung it across my whole place, but I digress. Anyway I was merrily singing badly in my shower while putting the shampoo in, when there was a knock on my door. You’d think I’d just let that go, but I can’t. I also have a hard time letting a phone ring unanswered. So I grabbed a towel, prayed the soap wouldn’t drift into my eyes, and went to answer the door. By the way, they really should make towels bigger, but that’s just me.

At the door was the woman that does the welcome wagon stuff for the neighborhood. She just wanted to give me a flyer for the spring potluck. You’d think that wouldn’t sound so bad, but I went to one of those things once and I found out that the average age of those attending was 65. If that wasn’t bad enough one man kept pinching my cheeks, and I don’t mean the ones on my face. So you can see how excited I was to be standing there at my door soapy and in a towel getting a flyer for one of these things.

Just as I was about to say goodbye to this woman, of course that’s after she went yammering on forever, the little havoc doggie ran through my legs and out the door. Crap. Now there’s a fairly busy street not too far away, and the puppy hasn’t learned that cars are bad yet. So of course I had to run after her. Now to her this was just a larger version of the “catch me if you can” game. To me it wasn’t that much fun, and I was muttering things to the doggie that the ASPCA wouldn’t be too fond of. She thought it was a hoot to have me trailing after her desperately clutching my towel in a pathetic attempt to avoid showing the whole neighborhood all my goodies. Just as I was close enough to grab her she would scamper off barking with her butt wiggling. Evil creature.

This went on for about a half hour with me promising treats I didn’t have while I had only one eye open. The other would probably never open again just for the fact that it had a ton of soap in it. And I was also now limping because I stepped on a piece of glass from a bottle. I was beginning to think I was going to have to go back to my place, get dressed, and maybe find a big net or something when I heard it. From behind me I hear a “whooo”. Now, I have begun to like hearing “whoo” from a friend that does it when she is happy, but this wasn’t that kind of "whoo". This was the kind that occurs behind you in traffic just before you start to curse and pray that you didn’t miss a payment of your car insurance. Yes, that’s right, it was a cop. Shit.

Thankfully after convincing the man that I wasn’t drunk, he decided to help me catch the puppy of doom. I don’t really blame him for thinking I might be drunk. I mean I only had the one eye open, I was wearing only a towel, I was limping, and at this point I was finding it difficult to speak without cursing. But the barking puppy having the time of her life tipped him off to what was really going on. Eventually we ended up catching her, and yes I even thought of taking my towel off and using it as something to toss over her to catch her, but with the cop there I didn’t think it would be wise. Anyway, he ended up herding her over to me where I could scoop her up.

So I thanked him and headed back to my place but he stopped me. Can you believe he wanted to give me a ticket? A freaking *ticket*! So now I have to go to court to explain to a judge why I was wandering around the streets of Tucson half nekkid. Oh for crying out loud! That pissed me off. Then I limped back to my place only to find out that guess what? That’s right, I locked myself out!! Fuck. Now I had to wander around looking for a hide-a-key that I didn’t quite remember where I hid it. That does me a lot of good.

So eventually I ended up back inside and the puppy wanted to play. Um… fat chance you little mongrel, you’re lucky I love you so much. That puppy is so not getting any treats tonight. Heck, she’s lucky I don’t put her little cute butt up on Ebay. That cute face of hers will save her every time. Man, I’m a sucker for a brown eyed girl.

“Some days you're the dog - some days you're the hydrant.” -- Unknown

Furball

2004-04-01T01:16:00.000-05:00

In random puppy news: The puppy is having an identity crisis; she thinks she’s a cat. I swear the other day I heard her say, “Meow”. It’s not just that. She plays with her paws more than anything, likes to sleep on the back of the couch, and likes to sit on the desk so she can see what alla the “tipity taping” is about. The poor thing has to try about six times to make it onto the couch in the first place. I feel a little guilty about laughing when she flops back onto the ground, but her little butt wiggle, determined face, and warble is just too cute. Now if only I can find my wallet… I just know that little critter nabbed it, and I’m sure that little innocent face is anything but.

“The greatest griefs are those we cause ourselves.” -- Sophocles

Catch me if you can

2004-03-30T04:08:00.000-05:00

If you were to peek into my windows you’d see that about 15 times a day I do an amazing imitation of a matador. It really isn’t my fault. You see everyday I have to play “catch the creature”. That’s right, I have a little ball of fur that runs around trying to play “catch me if you can”. You wouldn’t think it was that hard to catch a little bit of fluff. The problem is that this little thing has legs of lightning. So the only way I can catch her is if I maneuver her into position and then toss a blanket over her. This isn’t as easy as it sounds. I seem to be out witted at every turn. I just know by her little warble she gives me that she is laughing and mocking me.

Don’t let those innocent brown eyes of hers deceive you… she’s diabolical. She follows behind me just to steal whatever it is I leave behind to stick it under the couch. I have no idea why she does this, but just yesterday I found 3 of her toys, two mismatching socks, a paper airplane, the VCR remote (though I’m not sure she was the culprit there), a shoe, my toothbrush, and my keys. When I found them and started picking them up, she looked at me as if she was offended. How dare I pilfer her stash?

The little monster enjoys victory laps around the living room at supersonic speeds. Luckily she only falls every now and again. Her puppy paws haven’t gotten down the concepts of traction or coordination yet. Most of the time she does well on these little adventures… well, until she hits the tile that is. Then she looks like a spinning fur covered top sliding across the floor like Tom Cruise in “Risky Business”.

She has a bark that could rupture your eardrum and these cute little whimpers that guilt me into giving her a puppy treat. And just as an aside, she also likes to eat human hair. How do I know this you ask? Well as I am catching a long overdue nap, I was awoken by a searing pain and a barking dog with a wiggling backside. It seems giving my hair a nice tug is about as much fun as an amusement park. Who needs the Tilt-a-whirl when you can chew on some hair?

You may think I am complaining, but really I wouldn’t change a thing about her. She’s incredibly frustrating and the sole reason that I walk around town with a pooper scooper, but she is mine. She loves to fall asleep on my chest and wiggle when I walk in the door. She’s overjoyed to see me and doesn’t expect things of me I can’t give. She doesn’t need me to be someone I’m not, or judge me by my failures. All I have to do is come home, feed her, chase her around with a blanket, toss her ball around, and let her eat my hair. Seems like a fair trade to me. Well that and the fact that no woman could resist her little face… now to get that to rub off on me.

“You can say any foolish thing to a dog, and the dog will give you this look that says, ‘My God, you’re right! I never would’ve thought of that!’” -- Dave Barry

Dreamer

2004-03-23T08:22:00.000-05:00

Ever since I was little I’ve had the same reoccurring dream. Don’t worry; I’ll make this short as to not reveal the insanity of my psyche. But it’s always the same dream. I was about 7 and living where I grew up in a valley in Colorado. I peered out my window and caught a glimpse of something white moving with grace. Running out onto the porch I saw what it was. There, in a grass field between the trees was one unicorn. He stopped and stared at me, through me. He knew I could see him, yet he allowed me to stare. I knew without reason that this animal knew me; he understood what brought me to that porch seeking his comfort. I walked backwards into the house to tell my family that I’d seen him. They were all eating dinner as I told them of my incredible sighting. They all laughed, mocking me and my fantasies, but I knew better.

So I ended up alone and heading out again to see if he was still there. He was. I began to follow him until he led me into an open area flanked by pine trees. There before me was a small herd of the magnificent creatures. They allowed me to spend time with them, even run my hand along their bodies. It was always peaceful there, like the world had stopped to lend me a moment in that sun filled meadow.

I still have this same dream about once a month. It has changed a bit over the years and I can’t pinpoint when the change occurred. Now when I leave my disbelieving family in the kitchen and run to meet the unicorn he is there waiting as always. He turns to leave, looking back to make sure I follow him. I don’t move. He stops and paws at the ground in frustration. I turn my back on the beautiful animal. After all, he isn’t real right? When I glance back he is gone, disappeared into the trees. There is nothing left there to prove he ever existed. Every blade of grass is in its rightful place. I am left alone in my disbelief with only the comfort of the wind.

Why is it so hard for us to believe as we get older? Do we even realize the things we miss because of our cynicism? I have become quite adept at using sarcasm to hide from anything unwanted. The sad fact is that every time I hide I slip a little farther away from being able to believe. Turning my back can only leave me standing alone. I can no longer wonder what your intentions are, if you are a true friend, what it is you are trying to get out of me, why you’re here, if you really do care, if you remember, if you ever did love me, or if you'll be there. No, tonight I will stand and face you.

“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” -- James Baldwin

I should've kept my eyes closed

2004-03-19T07:07:00.000-05:00

I went to see that movie, “Passion of the Christ”. I’m not a fan of the Catholic Church by any stretch of the imagination; I just couldn’t help but be lured by the endless hype. I’m such a sheep. That and I am a fan of history. I will say that climatically the movie was beautiful and powerful. However, it really was too violent. I understand what they were trying to do by shocking people, but give me a break. At some point it looses its integrity and falls straight into gratuitous. They could have cut about 30 mins and made a much more powerful story. It was relatively accurate other than the portrayal of the Roman leadership.

The message of the movie was supposed to be love? Um you kinda lost that with all of that blood. I will never understand why the Catholic Church seems to focus on pain. It encourages judgment while pointing to an injustice of judgments. This screams hypocrisy to me. Can you tell I am *not* a fan of that institution. Anyway, if anything this movie made me shake my head at the focus on pain and not the true messages that the biblical texts were attempting to convey.

THEN on the way out of this “religious movie with a theme of forgiveness and love” when what do I see? One couple was so moved that they swiftly walked back to their car that was parked in a handicapped spot. Another woman made a run for the handicapped restroom even though a girl in a wheelchair was waiting. A man called another a “f-ing n---r” and I heard one woman make disparaging comments about my Human Rights Campaign bumper sticker. Oh yes... the hypocrisy continues.

“I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief.” -- Gerry Spence

Makin a list...

2004-03-18T16:21:00.000-05:00

I find that it can be an interesting way to learn about someone just by what they list as things they love. It also helps that my brain is always so sporadic and disorganized that this is a good way to make me appear sane. Well maybe not sane, but at least it will make me look as if I know how to make a list. And this isn’t even the kind of list that I do knowing full well that I am making it solely to procrastinate over items listed.

I love my: family, friends, dogs, a child’s laughter, Mountain Dew, letters in the mail, Koosh balls, computer games, the smell of permanent markers, old photographs, giving someone a gift for no reason, the sunrise, the sound of the ocean, all things Ben and Jerry’s, going to the movies, Ellen DeGeneres, random quotes, popsicles, jelly beans, making someone laugh, when a bartender gives you a free drink, watching someone draw, music a few decibels too loud, the smell of rain, chatting online, rhinoceroses, candles, driving to the edge of nowhere, Loreena McKennitt, office supplies, convenience stores, moonlight, air conditioning, people that can say “I don’t know”, live entertainment, T-Shirts with clever sayings, Bailey’s Irish crème, other people’s birthdays, dreams, a hug from a friend, Antiloop, mythology, ripping the tag off a mattress, Melissa Etheridge, bloopers, Gavin Newsom, intelligent questions, the softness of a woman’s lower back, other people’s knick-knacks, Absolutely Fabulous, bad lesbian fiction, Blockbuster, floating in water, all things geeky, finding money in the washing machine, over tipping, complements for no reason, a good book, weird or strange news, Kathy Najimy, dreaming of places to travel, a first kiss, visiting historical places, thought provoking discussions, laughing so hard I cry, and comfortable silences

I also love: fresh bread, hearing from an old friend, when good moods are infectious, photography by Judy Francesconi, finding something I thought I’d lost, goofy crap I never buy in the checkout line, snow, a good rollercoaster, the smell of dryer sheets, caller ID, Robert Miles, talking with someone till the sun comes up, listening to the stories of a grandmother, a smile, the Rocky Mountains, E-mail, letting someone go ahead of me, small bookstores, a woman’s voice, the people that changed my life in various ways, winning, open minds, being there when someone needs me, not taking myself too seriously, seeing a wild animal cross my path, when restaurants give you those little chocolate mints, views from the top of high places (with my propensity for falling this can be rather dangerous), heart wrenching songs and poetry, hearing the song that was stuck in your mind come over the radio, learning something new, a good nap in the middle of the day, watching people, having someone rub or draw on my back, ketchup, MP3s, knowing someone is there for you, run-on sentences, and you for reading this drivel.

It’s rather nice to sit down for a few moments and think of only the things you love. We spend so much time focusing on what brings us pain or what is going wrong, that we tend to forget about the hundreds of things that bring us joy. So why not sit down and let your mind wander through all the things that you love off the top of your head?

“If we have the opportunity to be generous with our hearts, ourselves, we have no idea of the depth and breadth of love's reach.” -- Margaret Cho

Night night

2004-03-04T05:36:00.000-05:00

I’m a night person. I bet you couldn’t have figured that out yourself just by looking at the times I post, but I thought I’d go ahead and state the obvious. There’s just something about its quiet that attracts me. For as much as I complain, I’m lucky to live in Arizona during these times. Here you can be looking out at thousands of stars littering the sky while listening to a lone coyote in the background. You can stand out there in the cool air and either hide in the shadows or bask in the moonlight.

There are no phones, no questions, no expectations, and no responsibilities. It’s a little piece of freedom. Some find it depressing, but at lest you don’t have to have others around to observe any loneliness, faults, or demons. Your worst can be set free and you don’t have to worry about any judgments.

I hated the night for a long time, especially here in the desert. I hated its shadows and eerie silence. I found it to be a lonesome time filled with the darkest thoughts and deepest secrets. It was like a dark shroud of unease that blanketed everything you could see. That was before. That was when I wasn’t able to notice the beauty in the moon protecting me against the shadows.

It’s amazing to me how perspectives can change even about the smallest things. No one changed my view, time took care of that. My hope is that right now, at a time I would love to change someone’s opinion, I allow time to work with me.

Random Thought:

Why can’t I be smarter than saran wrap? I start by trying to cover a bowl of leftovers, and end up tangled in 400 yards of sticky plastic and needing the jaws of life to come help me out.

“I haven’t a clue as to how my story will end. But that’s all right. When you set out on a journey and night covers the road, you don’t conclude that the road has vanished. And how else could we discover the stars?” -- Unknown

Heavy traffic

2004-03-03T09:22:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been driving letting your mind wander, and once you reach your destination you realize you have no idea how you got there? I do that all the time. Shouldn’t we worry about this? I mean we aren’t supposed to drink NyQuil and then operate heavy machinery, yet it seems to be ok to go into some trance like state while cruising down the road. I like to think I’m a good driver, but I think everyone likes to think that about themselves.

Have you ever been in a car with someone who scares the living hell out of you? Why don’t we tell them that sitting in the passenger seat of their car takes years off our life? Do they realize that it’s not normal for people to have a death drip on the handle above their heads? I can never figure out how they don’t notice my foot searching for the imaginary break, or the beads of sweat on my forehead.

My dad is one of those people. I think he sees driving as a chance to recapture his youth and his one chance to be in a demolition derby. For me it is an opportunity to relive my life as it flashes before my eyes.

So, there I was today driving down the road and talking with myself as per usual. I suppose that’s almost as bad as talking on my cell phone, but that’s another issue. I saw a man in an SUV just about take out some older man trying to walk across the road. He then had the nerve to honk at the man that was stopping him from making his right turn. Then this same man, not 4 blocks away, stops in the middle of moving traffic to let an attractive woman in a convertible cut across the road. I could see all of this because even though the man was weaving through traffic as if his wife was in the passenger seat getting ready to give birth, yet ended up at the same stop lights as I did. Not that he seemed to notice.

Anyway, my point is that this man almost killed a nice older man legally crossing the road, while irritating everyone else on the road by stopping traffic for some woman that was breaking about six traffic laws anyway. This is also the kind of man that whistles at women as they pass a construction site I’m sure.

You can guess that I became rather irritated at this imbecile. Don’t get me wrong; I’m far from perfect when I drive and I haven’t been accident free. I can get lost going to the store, I am always singing badly or talking to myself, I flash hand gestures that would make my mother blush, and I tend to leave just enough room between my bumper and the car in front of me that I’m prime material to be cut off by another car. I have even been in 3 accidents. Once I was rear ended by a soccer mom, once my friend driving my car rear ended the Police Commissioner, and I was broadsided by a drunk. So I feel safe in saying that despite all of my short comings in the driver’s seat, at least I don’t act like Mr. Jackass, who only breaks for what he considers beautiful people.

My point is that I wish we could all be allowed to give traffic citations to others for stupidity. I would have loved to ticket that man today almost as much as I would love to ticket the ass in the Hummer who takes up three spaces when parking. I just hated that the man would break for only the person he found beautiful. It reminded me of a post written by Elisa which really hit the nail on the head about that subject. I myself would have let the old man cross.

Either way, until the time we are allowed to ticket these people I will continue to drive while talking to myself and shake my head at middle age men that just don’t seem to understand what’s really important.

“Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.” -- Anne Frank

Tell me something...

2004-03-01T02:27:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been told the one thing you were waiting to hear? It could have been that you were right, or that it wasn’t your fault. It could be that the person just said they were sorry for the pain they caused you. Maybe they told you that it wasn’t you... that you weren’t lacking in some manner. I had wanted to hear something for so long it left a throbbing ache. I believe that focusing on what wasn’t said allowed me to hide from the truth.

I finally heard what I’d been waiting to hear. You would think I’d have been happy, or that it allowed me a sense of healing. It didn’t. The fact of the matter is that it doesn’t change a thing. In fact it just brought the truth to stare me in the face. I suppose one day I will be grateful for having heard the words I was searching for. In a way I am now… I just wish that things were different. I just wish that I could turn back time.

So I wonder why we as people can’t just let go. Why do we need to hear something that really won’t change anything? Your past is part of what makes you who you are. So if we cannot accept it, than are we not accepting ourselves? Why did I have to hear something that I should have known from the start? The fact that I was waiting to hear it means that I knew it was the truth. Why would I feel the need to have someone validate that for me? I’m not sure that I know the answers to any of these questions. I have to believe that simply asking them is a step in the right direction.

“Only I can change my life. No one can do it for me.” -- Carol Burnett

Snipe Hunt

2004-02-27T03:28:00.000-05:00

When I was younger and I spent my summers in a suburb of Boston, the greatest nights were spent on a snipe hunt. If you don’t know what this is I’ll tell you. Basically this is where you get all of the neighborhood children together and keep them busy by having them run around looking in bushes for a fictitious creature. For the adults, the idea of a snipe hunt is ingenious… For the children, it’s an adventure.

So, one night a year about six of us would run through the neighborhood with large nets. We would look in bushes and up trees. We would stay up late in the pursuit of this elusive animal. The adults would laugh at our antics and socialize. They would humor us, telling us they would build a cage for it if we caught one. I remember telling my uncle that I was sure they looked like a cross between a fairy and a hamster. It never mattered that we never found one… it was the chase and the time spent as a group that was important.

Now as an adult I am searching for other elusive creatures. The fairy hamsters aren’t what I am looking for now, but the search is the same. My snipes now are myself, my dreams, love, friendship, and meaning. As adults we tend to focus on the goal, on what we want to find. We forget about the search. We forget how much can be learned and how much joy is simply in the path to finding said things.

Children live life for the experience. They aren’t blinded by their need to reach a goal. They are perfectly happy to run around with large nets in the pursuit of something. So my wish for myself, and for anyone who happens by here, is that we find the joy in our own searching. My wish is that we learn to live in the moment, thankful for the track our paths take us. And if you happen to carry a big net, I’m sure that can only help you when you spot the person you want to love…. It really is hard to outrun those suckers.

“Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.” -- Robert Frost

Bolivia bore

2004-02-27T00:30:00.000-05:00

I can’t believe how long it has been since I last rambled in here. This is where I tell you that I was off living some exotic life and couldn’t get to a computer. Maybe I was sitting atop my yak in Outer Mongolia and studying the mating habits of some rare bird. Of course I couldn’t get to my computer because it was still at the embassy. Or I could tell you that a host of kidnappers broke into my place and nabbed me in order to ransom me off for a pack of bubblegum and six rubber bands.

At least these would be more realistic than the old, “I was abducted by an alien” thing. I mean, that didn’t work when I used it with Mrs. Salmon as an explanation of why I didn’t have my paper about snow leopards in the eighth grade.

So, no, I wasn’t tagging wild bore in Bolivia (are there any bore in Bolivia?), nor was I backpacking across Western Europe. I was just sitting in my living room with nothing to say. It’s unusual that I have nothing to say. Generally I am the kind of person that needs to be told to be quiet or else you will duct tape my mouth shut. But if it makes you feel better to think that I wasn’t around because I was doing something exciting and amazing… I won’t stop you.

The only news I have to share is that I fell in love. Yes that’s right; I fell in love with a brown eyed girl. I should probably tell you a bit about her. She’s young, cute, sweet as can be, and a tad silly at times. She is wonderful to cuddle with, and makes my home brighter. Oh, did I forget to mention she is a puppy? LoL. As if it would be a woman, you forget who it is that you’re dealing with. I have a social life as slow as molasses flowing uphill. There’s no woman here, just a furry little imp (Pictures are coming).

So, if at any point you are wondering what I am doing, I’ll tell you. Just call me Captain Pooper Scooper. I am now the woman trailing after some sniffing puppy begging silently that it would “just go already.” Other than that, I am probably following around the same dog like its little servant, taking things out of its mouth and putting her bone in as a replacement. And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing.

“A boy can learn a lot from a dog: obedience, loyalty, and the importance of turning around three times before lying down.” -- Robert Benchley

Dumb duh dumb dumb

2004-02-17T20:32:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I wonder if stupidity is an epidemic running ramped in this country. Like the woman that always asks the waiter if something is any good. What waiter who expects to have a job at the end of the day is going to say, “Yeah, that’s just horrible, you should call the health department.” And yet, it doesn’t stop me from asking.

Then there are the people that live here in the desert. We are a breed apart. For example, it will be raining and because the streets have *no* drainage, every little dip in the road floods. So what do we do? Do we turn around when we see a road closed sign? Nope. Every year at least 4 people in cars the size of a matchbox will try to traverse the flood. What makes them think they can plow through the raging river? Did the tree floating by not cause them any concern? These are just some of the things I like to think about. I wonder what it is about us that stops our commonsense dead in its tracks?

I saw this and thought it would be a perfect example of what I am talking about:

Stored Bullets Explode in Wis. Oven

(AP)HOWARD, Wis. - A man and his wife ducked behind a refrigerator when bullets began exploding in their oven, authorities say. Capt. Craig Kohlbeck of the Brown County Sheriff's Department said the husband had put the ammunition and three handguns in the oven before the couple left on a vacation. He told officers he thought the items would be safe there in case someone broke into the home while they were away. After returning from their trip Tuesday, the wife turned on the oven to prepare dinner and the bullets ignited, Kohlbeck said. No one was hurt.

First of all… What the hell were they thinking? Who goes on vacation and worries about someone steeling their bullets and guns? Oh sure Mr. Burglar come on in and steel my TV, stereo, family jewels, and anything not nailed down… But *please* don’t take my guns. Didn’t you *supposedly* get the guns to *stop* would be robbers, not worry about them being stolen?

Second, if you use your oven as a hiding place, it might behoove you to take a gander in there before turning that sucker on. Heat + Explosives = Bad. Kindergartners know that. Why wouldn’t they hide it in the freezer where I hide all of my good stuff. Oops. Crap! The scariest thing to me is that these people are allowed to vote… God help us all!

I guess the point of all this today is a hope that you aren’t taking life too seriously. Sometimes you just need to look around and enjoy what you see. It’s too easy to forget to smile at the ridiculous.