Today, Cate over at Snozzberries asked whether we dry off in the shower or on the mat. This reminded me that I am very particular about my showers so I thought I would share my ritual.
I shower every night. Always. I have been shit faced can't remember anything drunk and still insisted on a shower. I will skip this if I am camping or is I am at a sleepover, but most of my friends know so they automatically point me towards the bathroom when it is bed time so I don't even have to ask. There are reasons for this that one day when I am feeling particularly open I will share.
I always brush my hair before my shower. It's long. Really long. and I hate clogged drains. If you have ever pulled old hair out of a drain you know why I brush before my shower. I like hair catchers. ick.
If my hair comes out in the bath, I stick it to the wall and deal with it later. Regardless, I make sure this is done before the housekeepers come. That's one of those things I don't think they should have to deal with.
I wash my hair and condition. While the conditioner sets, I brush my teeth with my electric toothbrush. It's a messy contraption, I don't like toothpaste on the front of my clothes or on the mirror.
I always rinse my hair before I soap up. I always work from top to bottom. It just makes sense.
I towel off in the shower, drying everything but the bottom of my feet. Growing up, we weren't allowed to leave a wet bathmat. At all. so generally the only "wet" on my mat is two footprints. I always hang the mat to dry immediately. Another childhood habit, I suppose. I'm almost militant about it. If my bathmat is on the floor, something is off.
then off to bed I go!
today is my favorite Chicken Pie's 21st birthday. I can't wait to see her on Tuesday (maybe she can join me for Taco Tuesday!) and I REALLY can't wait to take her to Vegas next weekend. Happy Birthday Pie!! I will call her later.
Coworker is having another crisis. I don't know what, I just recognize the tone. I'm not going to miss her drama.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
I know I should be working
But there are a couple of things I need to get off my chest.
Saturday, my mom was asking about my blog, and whether it would be a good thing if she read it. I told her no, knowing that there are a few things she might come across that would hurt her feelings. It had nothing to do with loving her and everything to do with wanting to protect her from the things I have said in frustration that I needed to spit out. And they landed here.
I once thought that the discovery of my blog by those who knew me might be the end of the world. Especially for people I have ranted about. Then C found it, and read it, and we talked about it. It healed a rift in our friendship and I would say that while we are not as close as we were, I think we are as close as we can be seeing as how our relationship is no longer intimate. I was lucky that time. c and I were able to discuss things. Would I be so fortunate with my mom?
At the time, when we were discussing it, it came up that my sister reads. As does my cousin. and a few of my friends. Suddenly, it seemed unfair to exclude my mother from these things when it appears that anyone else can be allowed to peek.
There are few things I dislike more in this world than to be excluded.
I wondered if perhaps I should go back and edit out those frustrated posts. But I think that sometimes, when I am most anguished, I express myself best. (sometimes not) And this, being an online journal type thing, would be severely diminished if I edited for the feelings of others. But then, how is that different than the things I hold back for privacy? Writing instead in my paper journal?
This is a matter I think a lot of bloggers go through. I am certainly not going to pretend I am the first to struggle with it.
And who knows? maybe she will understand. I'm sure I have upset her on more than one occation. Perhaps it would teach me to be more tolerant and not go spouting off to the internet every time I get a bee in my bonnet.
Part of what got me thinking was the overwhelming sense of love and appreciation for my mom that I was hit with on Sunday. Without her, I wouldn't be. She deserves every bit of love and kindess.
On a differnt subject completely, I hate my bras. they don't fit and I can't seem to get them clean. Even fresh off the doorknob they feel dirty. I think I am done shopping for them at Victoria's Secret. Sadly, no one else seems to carry my size except in pointyboob granny styles and up, I'm far too young to be wearing those. You would think that with the popularity of fake breasts that there would be more options for the giftedly endowed.
On a whole nother subject, I am working on meeting people before I go to Reno. I have contacted crafty folk and signed up for Yahoo Personals. I know. I swore off internet dating. Whatever, I can change my mind if I want to and it seems like a good way to get to know people before I arrive. I'm feeling guilty though. You see, while I try not to exclude anyone from my list of possibilities based on heritage, the truth of the matter is that I tend to be attracted to the same sort of men so when men outside of that general appearance contact me, I feel bad rejecting them on account of no attraction. I worry that it makes me racist. And then I realize that i am. Because I feel guilty rejecting a black man because I am not attracted to him, but not a white guy. But maybe I am not because if a black man I was attracted to were to contact me and be a good match, I would not reject him. I'm willing to step outside the box for the right fella. (I am only using black men as an example) I should just be pleased that guys are looking. I know I am very pleased that the men who have looked so far are interested in a woman who is not a stick figure. AND, I am not getting all wound up when a man doesn't reply to my inquiries. So, good for me. Ok, back to work.
Saturday, my mom was asking about my blog, and whether it would be a good thing if she read it. I told her no, knowing that there are a few things she might come across that would hurt her feelings. It had nothing to do with loving her and everything to do with wanting to protect her from the things I have said in frustration that I needed to spit out. And they landed here.
I once thought that the discovery of my blog by those who knew me might be the end of the world. Especially for people I have ranted about. Then C found it, and read it, and we talked about it. It healed a rift in our friendship and I would say that while we are not as close as we were, I think we are as close as we can be seeing as how our relationship is no longer intimate. I was lucky that time. c and I were able to discuss things. Would I be so fortunate with my mom?
At the time, when we were discussing it, it came up that my sister reads. As does my cousin. and a few of my friends. Suddenly, it seemed unfair to exclude my mother from these things when it appears that anyone else can be allowed to peek.
There are few things I dislike more in this world than to be excluded.
I wondered if perhaps I should go back and edit out those frustrated posts. But I think that sometimes, when I am most anguished, I express myself best. (sometimes not) And this, being an online journal type thing, would be severely diminished if I edited for the feelings of others. But then, how is that different than the things I hold back for privacy? Writing instead in my paper journal?
This is a matter I think a lot of bloggers go through. I am certainly not going to pretend I am the first to struggle with it.
And who knows? maybe she will understand. I'm sure I have upset her on more than one occation. Perhaps it would teach me to be more tolerant and not go spouting off to the internet every time I get a bee in my bonnet.
Part of what got me thinking was the overwhelming sense of love and appreciation for my mom that I was hit with on Sunday. Without her, I wouldn't be. She deserves every bit of love and kindess.
On a differnt subject completely, I hate my bras. they don't fit and I can't seem to get them clean. Even fresh off the doorknob they feel dirty. I think I am done shopping for them at Victoria's Secret. Sadly, no one else seems to carry my size except in pointyboob granny styles and up, I'm far too young to be wearing those. You would think that with the popularity of fake breasts that there would be more options for the giftedly endowed.
On a whole nother subject, I am working on meeting people before I go to Reno. I have contacted crafty folk and signed up for Yahoo Personals. I know. I swore off internet dating. Whatever, I can change my mind if I want to and it seems like a good way to get to know people before I arrive. I'm feeling guilty though. You see, while I try not to exclude anyone from my list of possibilities based on heritage, the truth of the matter is that I tend to be attracted to the same sort of men so when men outside of that general appearance contact me, I feel bad rejecting them on account of no attraction. I worry that it makes me racist. And then I realize that i am. Because I feel guilty rejecting a black man because I am not attracted to him, but not a white guy. But maybe I am not because if a black man I was attracted to were to contact me and be a good match, I would not reject him. I'm willing to step outside the box for the right fella. (I am only using black men as an example) I should just be pleased that guys are looking. I know I am very pleased that the men who have looked so far are interested in a woman who is not a stick figure. AND, I am not getting all wound up when a man doesn't reply to my inquiries. So, good for me. Ok, back to work.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Books and other things
Therre was a time when books were precious. When reading was a skill afforded to rich men. And even then, to own one book was precious.
Today I cataloged 128 books into Librarything. I still have another large bookcase. I haven't even touched the cook books. I did this now because I've been meaning to do it and I thought it smart to enter the titles while I packed the books. I have 14 boxes packed. 6 less than the goal I set for myself on Friday. It is still a start. I can almost walk in my office. the pile of things to be rid of grows. One thng at a time. In my mind everything is packed. I am living off the minimum. some clothes, toiletries, my spinning wheel.
I am not out of boxes, but I am out of places to put them. And the housekeepers come tomorrow. I need to clear floorspace so they can vacume. I need to find the couch. It's firghtening when the bathroom is the cleanest room in the house. The only room when you don't have to climb over stuff in order to walk. One thing at a time. One box at a time.
Today I cataloged 128 books into Librarything. I still have another large bookcase. I haven't even touched the cook books. I did this now because I've been meaning to do it and I thought it smart to enter the titles while I packed the books. I have 14 boxes packed. 6 less than the goal I set for myself on Friday. It is still a start. I can almost walk in my office. the pile of things to be rid of grows. One thng at a time. In my mind everything is packed. I am living off the minimum. some clothes, toiletries, my spinning wheel.
I am not out of boxes, but I am out of places to put them. And the housekeepers come tomorrow. I need to clear floorspace so they can vacume. I need to find the couch. It's firghtening when the bathroom is the cleanest room in the house. The only room when you don't have to climb over stuff in order to walk. One thing at a time. One box at a time.
Friday, July 06, 2007
An award!
I have recieved two awards now, one from Not so Anonymous Michelle, and the other from Jestertunes. Michelle's, I was, of course, flattered and excited by, but I forgot to post it. I think I will go look through her archives. She made me feel Pop-u-LAR. And loved.
Jester, presenting the following:
really rocked my world. suddenly, I'm in the cool club again! Who will I tag? Probably no one. See, all the blogs I read rock. so perhaps, i will save this award and pass it along when I feel ready. Like any bit of wisdom. In the meantime, to those of you who I read every chance I can (sometimes popping in a couple of times a day, pchef and chickie) thank you for roviding me endless entertainment and comraderie. And to those of you who just lurk or just comment, you rock too.
Jester, presenting the following:
really rocked my world. suddenly, I'm in the cool club again! Who will I tag? Probably no one. See, all the blogs I read rock. so perhaps, i will save this award and pass it along when I feel ready. Like any bit of wisdom. In the meantime, to those of you who I read every chance I can (sometimes popping in a couple of times a day, pchef and chickie) thank you for roviding me endless entertainment and comraderie. And to those of you who just lurk or just comment, you rock too.
Another one
Another work day where the attitude from outside my department makes me want to tell them all to fuck off and then I leave. But I won't. I mean, I am, but not until it's time.
Coworker is out again today, as was she yesterday, dealing with her life. Which means I still have not told her I am leaving, although the cat is out. I can't very well pretend I will be here when I won't. I hope she is ok, and getting things together for herself. Rumor has it she's out indefinately, but since I didn't hear that from Bossman, I think it's just a rumor. Meanwhile, I have plenty of my own, and also her's to deal with. It wouldn't be so bad if the proceedures on things I used to do hadn't changed while they were in her hands.
7 more days. Well, 7 1/2. I'm trying to stay positive. I can tell that bossman is stressed. Perhaps I will book a massage for the week after I arrive in Reno.
Coworker is out again today, as was she yesterday, dealing with her life. Which means I still have not told her I am leaving, although the cat is out. I can't very well pretend I will be here when I won't. I hope she is ok, and getting things together for herself. Rumor has it she's out indefinately, but since I didn't hear that from Bossman, I think it's just a rumor. Meanwhile, I have plenty of my own, and also her's to deal with. It wouldn't be so bad if the proceedures on things I used to do hadn't changed while they were in her hands.
7 more days. Well, 7 1/2. I'm trying to stay positive. I can tell that bossman is stressed. Perhaps I will book a massage for the week after I arrive in Reno.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Packing Meditations
Maybe I need medications instead.
So in between reading, doing laundry, eating quesadillas, I have been packing this evening. I had planned to get some sewing done after my evening with C fell through (shit happens, it really does. We're going out tomorrow instead) I now have 4, count em, 4 boxes packed. 3 of them are crafty, one business. progress is slow, but happening.
That's not the point.
I was thinking about it, and I'm not sure why it didn't hit me before. Maybe it was something in the strains of Guns N Roses that triggered the thoughts.
I have lived alone, completely alone, for the first time in many years for a year and a half. During that time, I dated one fella, but I have also spent a lot of time by myself. That's not the point. The point is that I think somewhere in there, my life went right side up again and I didn't even notice. And that's totally cool. While I may not particularly FEEL like packing up the potato heads, it's time for me to move on the the next phase of my life.
I don't think moving on is ever easy, but I am excited about the destination. And days like today, I can't wait for new things to start. I'm looking forward to snowboarding all winter. To living where there is snow. SNOW! I'm looking forward to new people and new opportunities. To learning who at my new job drives me crazy. (It was one of THOSE days).Sure, the packing is daunting. But I feel like I am back on track after being derailed for a few years. and that, my friends, is my triumph for the day.
So in between reading, doing laundry, eating quesadillas, I have been packing this evening. I had planned to get some sewing done after my evening with C fell through (shit happens, it really does. We're going out tomorrow instead) I now have 4, count em, 4 boxes packed. 3 of them are crafty, one business. progress is slow, but happening.
That's not the point.
I was thinking about it, and I'm not sure why it didn't hit me before. Maybe it was something in the strains of Guns N Roses that triggered the thoughts.
I have lived alone, completely alone, for the first time in many years for a year and a half. During that time, I dated one fella, but I have also spent a lot of time by myself. That's not the point. The point is that I think somewhere in there, my life went right side up again and I didn't even notice. And that's totally cool. While I may not particularly FEEL like packing up the potato heads, it's time for me to move on the the next phase of my life.
I don't think moving on is ever easy, but I am excited about the destination. And days like today, I can't wait for new things to start. I'm looking forward to snowboarding all winter. To living where there is snow. SNOW! I'm looking forward to new people and new opportunities. To learning who at my new job drives me crazy. (It was one of THOSE days).Sure, the packing is daunting. But I feel like I am back on track after being derailed for a few years. and that, my friends, is my triumph for the day.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
It's done
I gave notice at my apartment yesterday, and had to pay for an extra day when I won't even be there. I briefly thought about allowing my dad to stay there the couple of days that I will be gone but the place will still be in my name, (how's that for a run-on?) but I realized that it would be complicated and a very bad idea. It's ok to have bad ideas, as long as you don't follow through on them.
I handed bossman my resignation this morning. I took a deep breath, put on my big-girl panties and went for it. It was easier than I thought. I told him the truth of where I am going, and he told me how happy he is for me, as it is an excellent opportunity. I promised to keep in touch.
He won't say anything about me leaving until I am ready. He suggested I wait a week and think about how I want to handle it. It would be easy if not for coworker. I want to tell her because it's who I am, I want to keep it from her to be spiteful. Writing that reminds me that spite is never the right answer. I'm sure the right answer will come to me soon.
Meanwhile, things are moving right along. I gave away my old computer last night to a nice man who was reading my blog when I arrived at his house. That was kind of weird and surreal. Hi Doug. Someone will hopefully be picking up my dresser tonight. I think I want to keep the rest of my furniture.
So much to do. Baby needs to be transferred into her new travel cage, I need to pack and liquidate. I hate packing. I never finished unpacking. Part of me says to just throw away anything that I haven't unpacked. Some of it is still in boxes from when I moved from my mom's. I JUST unpacked all the china. I'm packing it with my blankets this time. And my jackets. I just don't want to deal with newspaper.
There have been questions about my destination.
Reno.
I handed bossman my resignation this morning. I took a deep breath, put on my big-girl panties and went for it. It was easier than I thought. I told him the truth of where I am going, and he told me how happy he is for me, as it is an excellent opportunity. I promised to keep in touch.
He won't say anything about me leaving until I am ready. He suggested I wait a week and think about how I want to handle it. It would be easy if not for coworker. I want to tell her because it's who I am, I want to keep it from her to be spiteful. Writing that reminds me that spite is never the right answer. I'm sure the right answer will come to me soon.
Meanwhile, things are moving right along. I gave away my old computer last night to a nice man who was reading my blog when I arrived at his house. That was kind of weird and surreal. Hi Doug. Someone will hopefully be picking up my dresser tonight. I think I want to keep the rest of my furniture.
So much to do. Baby needs to be transferred into her new travel cage, I need to pack and liquidate. I hate packing. I never finished unpacking. Part of me says to just throw away anything that I haven't unpacked. Some of it is still in boxes from when I moved from my mom's. I JUST unpacked all the china. I'm packing it with my blankets this time. And my jackets. I just don't want to deal with newspaper.
There have been questions about my destination.
Reno.
Monday, July 02, 2007
I feel like I am lying
I haven't given notice yet, and they don't know that I am moving. It's hard to keep this information secret, because I tend to tell everyone everything. I want to be just as excited about my life changes here at work as I am at home.
How to explain to coworker why I, the packrat, want to weed out my crafty supplies and give her my candlemaking stuff? How to share with bossman all the exciting preperations when I can't tell him I am leaving?
Coworker mentioned today someone who is leaving who gave notice right after his vacation. I had to bite my tounge. It's conicendence that I am giving notice this week. Pure coincedence.
Where am I going? Can't really talk about that either. I'm essentially being stolen. I have been recommended not to talk about it. It will be hard. I know they will ask. And if I tell where I am going, they will know who stole me away...Too many secrets. I don't like them.
But I have to say, I don't think I will be missed, work-wise. When I arrived this morning, there wasn't any work to be done. I'm ok with that.
How to explain to coworker why I, the packrat, want to weed out my crafty supplies and give her my candlemaking stuff? How to share with bossman all the exciting preperations when I can't tell him I am leaving?
Coworker mentioned today someone who is leaving who gave notice right after his vacation. I had to bite my tounge. It's conicendence that I am giving notice this week. Pure coincedence.
Where am I going? Can't really talk about that either. I'm essentially being stolen. I have been recommended not to talk about it. It will be hard. I know they will ask. And if I tell where I am going, they will know who stole me away...Too many secrets. I don't like them.
But I have to say, I don't think I will be missed, work-wise. When I arrived this morning, there wasn't any work to be done. I'm ok with that.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
They say a picture is worth a thousand words
I made you a slide show. it tells a story. When you get to the part where i was drunk and kissyface with the 18 year old river snack, you will see why I was a bit embarassed to share. But since my mom and sister both thought it was funny, now you know that whole story.
I think I likes best the parts of the trip when we were sober. I have many of them, my cohorts, not so many. That's ok for them. The night after the river snack, it took a long time for me to sober up. I don't like that feeling.
I think I likes best the parts of the trip when we were sober. I have many of them, my cohorts, not so many. That's ok for them. The night after the river snack, it took a long time for me to sober up. I don't like that feeling.
Friday, June 29, 2007
I'm back!
and oh boy do I have pictures. Scantily clad pictures. drunk pictures. and a couple I am ashamed of so I will have to consider carefully whether I want to tell you that story.
you know I will because eventually, I am shameless.
I probably will not share much along the lines of pictures of my cohorts. This is because they were also scantily clad and did not give me permission to post pictures of them on the internet.
However, I can assure you that the Drunk Monkey and I had a drunkin debaucherous time at the river this week and I.am.tan. He will have pictures, but different ones.
I'm also moving. (what??) Yes, moving. out of my tower apartment. You see, I'm about to embark on a rather big adventure. I'm not just moving. I'm moving out of the city where I was born. I'm moving out of the state where I have lived all of my nearly 30 years of existence.
I've already given notice at Harbucks. Sunday might be my last day. (my opinions if I am scheduled next week? well, I DID give her 2 weeks notice as is customary and polite. But I would find it very odd to be scheduled for another week, you know?It's not as if she needs to find a replacement) Next week I will give notice at my employer, a prospect that both frightens and elates me. When all is said and done, and I am safely ensconced in my new position many many miles away, I will tell you why I am elated. I still love them. It will break my heart to tell bossman I am leaving. It will be very difficult not to tell him all about where i am going although I suspect he will quickly figure it out.
Somehow, I have to pack up everything and move to somewhere new and I don't even know where I will live. Well, I know who I will be living with for a bit, but that doesn't help me put my stuff somewhere. And I have a lot of stuff.
And a lot of goodbyes to make.
you know I will because eventually, I am shameless.
I probably will not share much along the lines of pictures of my cohorts. This is because they were also scantily clad and did not give me permission to post pictures of them on the internet.
However, I can assure you that the Drunk Monkey and I had a drunkin debaucherous time at the river this week and I.am.tan. He will have pictures, but different ones.
I'm also moving. (what??) Yes, moving. out of my tower apartment. You see, I'm about to embark on a rather big adventure. I'm not just moving. I'm moving out of the city where I was born. I'm moving out of the state where I have lived all of my nearly 30 years of existence.
I've already given notice at Harbucks. Sunday might be my last day. (my opinions if I am scheduled next week? well, I DID give her 2 weeks notice as is customary and polite. But I would find it very odd to be scheduled for another week, you know?It's not as if she needs to find a replacement) Next week I will give notice at my employer, a prospect that both frightens and elates me. When all is said and done, and I am safely ensconced in my new position many many miles away, I will tell you why I am elated. I still love them. It will break my heart to tell bossman I am leaving. It will be very difficult not to tell him all about where i am going although I suspect he will quickly figure it out.
Somehow, I have to pack up everything and move to somewhere new and I don't even know where I will live. Well, I know who I will be living with for a bit, but that doesn't help me put my stuff somewhere. And I have a lot of stuff.
And a lot of goodbyes to make.
Friday, June 22, 2007
I'm a follower like that
I had to know what I was rated. Apparently, I need to use the word "fuck" more often.
In the meantime, I got a wild hair to explore my roots the other night and thought I would try my hand at homemade tortillas. If you have never had them, you need to go get some because you just don't understand otherwise why I would want to make them when there is a perfectly good grocery store half a block away.
I happened to mention it to chris and between him and his cousin, they thought they remembered how their grandmother makes them.
I followed their directions. I even cooked them on a cast iron skillet. next time I will use a real recipe. BUT I thought I could still salvage them. So I added cheeze. Everything is better with cheeze. and some garlic because it was still a bit bland. and some butter because tortillas are fantastic with butter.
I actually ate two bites. I won't be making THAT mistake again. That was my excitement for the week. I fell asleep at 7pm last night and although she yawned and made air noises at me, the bird couldn't wake me up to go to bed. (you would have to hear the air noise to understand it and since she only really makes noise when she feels like it, I can't record her for you) She tried. I'm going to miss her next weeke when I am camping. Which means no posts next week. But I'm sure I WILL post this weekend. Until then.
Mingle2 - Online Dating
In the meantime, I got a wild hair to explore my roots the other night and thought I would try my hand at homemade tortillas. If you have never had them, you need to go get some because you just don't understand otherwise why I would want to make them when there is a perfectly good grocery store half a block away.
I happened to mention it to chris and between him and his cousin, they thought they remembered how their grandmother makes them.
I followed their directions. I even cooked them on a cast iron skillet. next time I will use a real recipe. BUT I thought I could still salvage them. So I added cheeze. Everything is better with cheeze. and some garlic because it was still a bit bland. and some butter because tortillas are fantastic with butter.
I actually ate two bites. I won't be making THAT mistake again. That was my excitement for the week. I fell asleep at 7pm last night and although she yawned and made air noises at me, the bird couldn't wake me up to go to bed. (you would have to hear the air noise to understand it and since she only really makes noise when she feels like it, I can't record her for you) She tried. I'm going to miss her next weeke when I am camping. Which means no posts next week. But I'm sure I WILL post this weekend. Until then.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
it was actually healing!
Ok, I peeked.
and I found a woman who appears to have grown more beautiful than the last pictures I saw of her. A woman following her dreams. A woman recently engaged to someone who makes her smile. And I thought, good for her. Everyone deserves happiness even if they have caused trouble along the way.
and I found a woman who appears to have grown more beautiful than the last pictures I saw of her. A woman following her dreams. A woman recently engaged to someone who makes her smile. And I thought, good for her. Everyone deserves happiness even if they have caused trouble along the way.
Do you remember the time?
When I mentioned something I really wanted to be right about? how my intuition was screaming HOORAY and I so deserately wanted to be right?
I was wrong. But for some reason, it's ok. Or at least far more ok than I thought it would be.
Went and saw "Surfs Up" last night with C. We had fun. It was a fun movie with fun company. Went back to his place and played in the street with this new toy he bought that's all about shooting foam rings at each other. Can't really explain it better than that because for a simple machine, it's complicated to explain. Then we went inside and C turned on the Karaoke machine. He forced me to sing. I was off key. I would love to blame it on the fact that I was laying on the couch and singing. Then I went home and had a nightmare about the one time I entered a singing contest. In my dream I listened to the recording and discovered how incredibly bad I really was.
C said that the ex that came between us has a myspace. The temptation is there to cruise over for a look-see. I think I would be wise to refrain. I don't think I have anything positive to gain by going there. Because even if she has a giant wart on her nose and I can gloat because I don't? well, gloating isn't really healthy, now is it? But I can't help it, I really want to peek. It isn't that I don't know what she looks like, it's that I only know of her what C has told me and well, he's biased (sorry C) by 10 years of friendship and love, even if he doesn't want anything to do with her NOW.
I hope I forget this folly soon.
I was wrong. But for some reason, it's ok. Or at least far more ok than I thought it would be.
Went and saw "Surfs Up" last night with C. We had fun. It was a fun movie with fun company. Went back to his place and played in the street with this new toy he bought that's all about shooting foam rings at each other. Can't really explain it better than that because for a simple machine, it's complicated to explain. Then we went inside and C turned on the Karaoke machine. He forced me to sing. I was off key. I would love to blame it on the fact that I was laying on the couch and singing. Then I went home and had a nightmare about the one time I entered a singing contest. In my dream I listened to the recording and discovered how incredibly bad I really was.
C said that the ex that came between us has a myspace. The temptation is there to cruise over for a look-see. I think I would be wise to refrain. I don't think I have anything positive to gain by going there. Because even if she has a giant wart on her nose and I can gloat because I don't? well, gloating isn't really healthy, now is it? But I can't help it, I really want to peek. It isn't that I don't know what she looks like, it's that I only know of her what C has told me and well, he's biased (sorry C) by 10 years of friendship and love, even if he doesn't want anything to do with her NOW.
I hope I forget this folly soon.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The beat goes on
I called my mom on Friday night on my way to work and suggested that we go to the swap meet on Saturday morning. Funny how a trip to the swap meet can make everything better. I scored some free books that I plan to recon into something else, (I promise to read "Of Human Bondage" first) and one book for a dollar. it was a good trip. I also found some clothes that fit when we went to Costco. Clothes that fit is always an accomplishment. And not only are they cute and look good on me, I can wear them to work.
I hit the pool before I went to work on Saturday night.
While I was at work Sunday morning, (are you seeing a theme yet? I put in a 19 1/2 hour workweekend. it was brutal) I got a message from my Seester. Yup, Daddy called. He's homeless again, back with his girlfriend, which means he has his van back, and they are living, not by the river, but by the bay. They like it down there, so I understand. Seester offered to take him food, but he told her that what he really needs is money.
I have always believed that many homeless people likely have families that would help them if they only knew the situation. I found it hard to believe that anyone would allow a loved one to be homeless.
Aside from helping with food, I have no intention of assisting my father. My Seester? Won't give him money either. Not only do we not want to enable him further (he does insist that he is clean) but her husband doesn't like it. And I don't blame him. And? I'm really proud of her for not even considering going behind his back to give Daddy money.
After all, he said it himself. He put himself in this situation.
He sent me a picture via cell phone. It was the first time I had seen him in 3 1/2 years. I sent one back, of me in my apron taken several months ago. I wanted to make a point by sending one of me working job number 2.
I called. You knew I would. Asked after his health and well being. He said that when his friend gets back in 2 weeks he would have a job. That he really needs money right now. I avoided the looming loan. I responded with things like, "wow, that's really tough" "that can't be easy" and other such nonsense. I asked if he had considered other job possibilities at least until his friend comes back. In my mind, something temporary is better than nothing when you are hungry. It didn't occur to me until later to ask whether his girlfriend is also trying to work. I have a feeling she isn't. I have a feeling he tells her she shouldn't have to. I'm willing to do a lot of things to have a roof over my head.
There are programs for people like him. And I just couldn't wrap my mind around the thought that I had just finished working a 60 hour week, to give my money to someone who once told my mother that he would be homeless before he paid her back for all the years of child support he couldn't be bothered with paying. Years when my step dad stopped bringing home his paychecks and I learned what it was like to be Mother Hubbard.
And so I understand how a family can leave someone to be homeless. How you can get to the point where you are so fed up with the irresponsibility that you can tell someone to figure it out on their own. How you can decide that you have no more help to give. Hecan have all the encouragement he wants. I have no more money to give.
I hit the pool before I went to work on Saturday night.
While I was at work Sunday morning, (are you seeing a theme yet? I put in a 19 1/2 hour workweekend. it was brutal) I got a message from my Seester. Yup, Daddy called. He's homeless again, back with his girlfriend, which means he has his van back, and they are living, not by the river, but by the bay. They like it down there, so I understand. Seester offered to take him food, but he told her that what he really needs is money.
I have always believed that many homeless people likely have families that would help them if they only knew the situation. I found it hard to believe that anyone would allow a loved one to be homeless.
Aside from helping with food, I have no intention of assisting my father. My Seester? Won't give him money either. Not only do we not want to enable him further (he does insist that he is clean) but her husband doesn't like it. And I don't blame him. And? I'm really proud of her for not even considering going behind his back to give Daddy money.
After all, he said it himself. He put himself in this situation.
He sent me a picture via cell phone. It was the first time I had seen him in 3 1/2 years. I sent one back, of me in my apron taken several months ago. I wanted to make a point by sending one of me working job number 2.
I called. You knew I would. Asked after his health and well being. He said that when his friend gets back in 2 weeks he would have a job. That he really needs money right now. I avoided the looming loan. I responded with things like, "wow, that's really tough" "that can't be easy" and other such nonsense. I asked if he had considered other job possibilities at least until his friend comes back. In my mind, something temporary is better than nothing when you are hungry. It didn't occur to me until later to ask whether his girlfriend is also trying to work. I have a feeling she isn't. I have a feeling he tells her she shouldn't have to. I'm willing to do a lot of things to have a roof over my head.
There are programs for people like him. And I just couldn't wrap my mind around the thought that I had just finished working a 60 hour week, to give my money to someone who once told my mother that he would be homeless before he paid her back for all the years of child support he couldn't be bothered with paying. Years when my step dad stopped bringing home his paychecks and I learned what it was like to be Mother Hubbard.
And so I understand how a family can leave someone to be homeless. How you can get to the point where you are so fed up with the irresponsibility that you can tell someone to figure it out on their own. How you can decide that you have no more help to give. Hecan have all the encouragement he wants. I have no more money to give.
Friday, June 15, 2007
still in a funk
yesterday's madness is still bothering me today. There is still something wrong. Something that writing didn't help. sigh. I just want to fix it. I'm a fixer. it's what I do.
It's really hot out.
thats all.
It's really hot out.
thats all.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Trying to be understanding
I'm not sure what is is that just drives me crazy sometimes. Perhaps it is the nature of mothers that their daughters occasionally go a little crazy and get a little cranky. It's like I told her.
I never know what will set me off.
There are some topics that I generally don't like to discuss. Sometimes, they just hit too close to home. They widen the cracks in my fragile composure. They pick at the most sensitive areas of my life. I will give the excuse that they are things which I canot control. Subjects that when talked out, won't get better.
So when she mentions T? I turn my head and clam up because even after all this time, even though I do my best not to talk about him It still hurts. Deeply. Because even though I try to let go and move on I haven't and I know I am a fool for it. I know she isn't doing it intentionally. When my seester asks if I have heard from him? I answer, and it doesn't bother me except that I am a little ashamed because I know that she knows I still have hope. And we both know I am rediculous for it. My mother, of course, has to ask if I still care. She has to feed my hope by telling me that he might surprise me by coming around. Honestly, even if he wanted to, I think we are both too stubborn to bring it up. and then she delves into the next subject that is sure to set me off.
That I will meet mr right eventually. when I least expect it. and worse? probably when I am much older. Most days, I'm ok with beeing alone. I accept it. It's the way my life is right now. And I honestly have faith that someone will come into my life when they are supposed to. I am well taken care of that way. It may not be the man I will spend the rest of my life with, but for some reason, and here I ponder devine intervention, I am given what I need when I need it. Right now, I obviously need friends more than lovers. And alone time more than I need someone around. Part of this, I feel, stems from the fact that if T were to decide to give it another go, I would be hard pressed not to take him up on it. And to hell with the poor sap I happen to be dating.
And that is SO WRONG. I couldn't do that to someone. Even in my head. And so I know that I must finish healing before I move on because it's unlikely that someone will come along that will make me forget. I won't forget, but I know that I can appreciate someone new. And perhaps even, better suited.
all things in time, right? Except that people keep reminding me that time is slipping by and when my mother says I will probably be much older before I meet someone, she is reminding me that each year that slips by is another year I don't get to spend with this person. this elusive person who is, everyone assures me, out there somewhere, I just need to stop looking.
There is another situation too. One I can't really discuss exceept to say that analyzing it doesn't help. A situation that every ounce of intuition I own tells me is going to be ok. But that little fearing voice inside worries it won't. But in this, above all else I want to be strong. I don't want to focus on the negative, I want to focus on the positive. I want to be right about this. I want to trust my intuition when it says not to worry. (this is the same intuition that told me that T would break my heart) And if I am not right? I want to be surprised that my intuition was wrong. and I want to have hope for the future. I don't want to be told that I am cute for seeing a good omen in small things. I want to believe. I want to revel in the joy, not worry. Worrying doesn't help me. it's never helped me so, for once, I want to be confident in my feelings and not think something will go wrong. I don't want to discuss intimate details about private things. I figure that if that person wants to discuss intimate details, that person will come to me directly. I know my mom just needs to get it off her chest. That she needs to talk about it. And it's not that I don't want to be there for her. it just puts me in a bad frame of mind. There's just something about it that pushes my wrong buttons.
And so I called her. To apologize for being cranky. And ended up frustrated again. Because in the end? I don't think she heard what I was saying. in the end, I was the one who upset her. And I should just tell her when I don't want to talk. Perhaps I should not use that she caught me napping as an excuse for getting cranky, but it seemed the only available explaination. I don't want to give her a list of subjects I don't want to talk about. I don't want to hear her say that she will just start keeping her thoughts to herself again. I nearly threw my phone when she said that perhaps I am just hormonal. (I know the difference) I tried to explain that I don't want to discuss things that can't be helped. I even mentioned my love life as one of them. But I don't think she heard me. Or maybe I just don't communicate well. Perhaps I don't speak english as clearly as I think I do. there are just some things I have picked apart until they are bleeding. And I have realized that picking at them only hurts me. And I have realized that although there are some things in life that can be helped, there are some that can't. and for some reason when my mom brings them up, it bugs me all the more. Apparently, I have always been this way. Ok one minute, then upset the next. Perhaps it is because I have been taught to hide my feelings, to control them until the dam breaks and I get mad. I must have dealt with this differently as a child. I must have lost the ability to hide my nasty tone.
I know she has a lot going on. she has stresses that I cannot begin to describe. She deals with stuff every day that would break a lesser person. It's tough being her rock. especially when I hurt her.
I understand that I don't communicate my emotions very well because how in the world can I possibly put multidimentional emotions into two dimentional words and have them convey the full meaning of what I am feeling? How can I tell someone who just needs to talk that I don't want to talk about it? When I can't fully explain what "it" is? How do you look someone in the eye, who is trying to console you and tell them that they are making it hurt worse? Especially when coming from someone else, it might not hurt so badly?
I know this issue has not been solved. In fact, I fear it may have gotten worse since now she is afraid to talk to me.
I never know what will set me off.
There are some topics that I generally don't like to discuss. Sometimes, they just hit too close to home. They widen the cracks in my fragile composure. They pick at the most sensitive areas of my life. I will give the excuse that they are things which I canot control. Subjects that when talked out, won't get better.
So when she mentions T? I turn my head and clam up because even after all this time, even though I do my best not to talk about him It still hurts. Deeply. Because even though I try to let go and move on I haven't and I know I am a fool for it. I know she isn't doing it intentionally. When my seester asks if I have heard from him? I answer, and it doesn't bother me except that I am a little ashamed because I know that she knows I still have hope. And we both know I am rediculous for it. My mother, of course, has to ask if I still care. She has to feed my hope by telling me that he might surprise me by coming around. Honestly, even if he wanted to, I think we are both too stubborn to bring it up. and then she delves into the next subject that is sure to set me off.
That I will meet mr right eventually. when I least expect it. and worse? probably when I am much older. Most days, I'm ok with beeing alone. I accept it. It's the way my life is right now. And I honestly have faith that someone will come into my life when they are supposed to. I am well taken care of that way. It may not be the man I will spend the rest of my life with, but for some reason, and here I ponder devine intervention, I am given what I need when I need it. Right now, I obviously need friends more than lovers. And alone time more than I need someone around. Part of this, I feel, stems from the fact that if T were to decide to give it another go, I would be hard pressed not to take him up on it. And to hell with the poor sap I happen to be dating.
And that is SO WRONG. I couldn't do that to someone. Even in my head. And so I know that I must finish healing before I move on because it's unlikely that someone will come along that will make me forget. I won't forget, but I know that I can appreciate someone new. And perhaps even, better suited.
all things in time, right? Except that people keep reminding me that time is slipping by and when my mother says I will probably be much older before I meet someone, she is reminding me that each year that slips by is another year I don't get to spend with this person. this elusive person who is, everyone assures me, out there somewhere, I just need to stop looking.
There is another situation too. One I can't really discuss exceept to say that analyzing it doesn't help. A situation that every ounce of intuition I own tells me is going to be ok. But that little fearing voice inside worries it won't. But in this, above all else I want to be strong. I don't want to focus on the negative, I want to focus on the positive. I want to be right about this. I want to trust my intuition when it says not to worry. (this is the same intuition that told me that T would break my heart) And if I am not right? I want to be surprised that my intuition was wrong. and I want to have hope for the future. I don't want to be told that I am cute for seeing a good omen in small things. I want to believe. I want to revel in the joy, not worry. Worrying doesn't help me. it's never helped me so, for once, I want to be confident in my feelings and not think something will go wrong. I don't want to discuss intimate details about private things. I figure that if that person wants to discuss intimate details, that person will come to me directly. I know my mom just needs to get it off her chest. That she needs to talk about it. And it's not that I don't want to be there for her. it just puts me in a bad frame of mind. There's just something about it that pushes my wrong buttons.
And so I called her. To apologize for being cranky. And ended up frustrated again. Because in the end? I don't think she heard what I was saying. in the end, I was the one who upset her. And I should just tell her when I don't want to talk. Perhaps I should not use that she caught me napping as an excuse for getting cranky, but it seemed the only available explaination. I don't want to give her a list of subjects I don't want to talk about. I don't want to hear her say that she will just start keeping her thoughts to herself again. I nearly threw my phone when she said that perhaps I am just hormonal. (I know the difference) I tried to explain that I don't want to discuss things that can't be helped. I even mentioned my love life as one of them. But I don't think she heard me. Or maybe I just don't communicate well. Perhaps I don't speak english as clearly as I think I do. there are just some things I have picked apart until they are bleeding. And I have realized that picking at them only hurts me. And I have realized that although there are some things in life that can be helped, there are some that can't. and for some reason when my mom brings them up, it bugs me all the more. Apparently, I have always been this way. Ok one minute, then upset the next. Perhaps it is because I have been taught to hide my feelings, to control them until the dam breaks and I get mad. I must have dealt with this differently as a child. I must have lost the ability to hide my nasty tone.
I know she has a lot going on. she has stresses that I cannot begin to describe. She deals with stuff every day that would break a lesser person. It's tough being her rock. especially when I hurt her.
I understand that I don't communicate my emotions very well because how in the world can I possibly put multidimentional emotions into two dimentional words and have them convey the full meaning of what I am feeling? How can I tell someone who just needs to talk that I don't want to talk about it? When I can't fully explain what "it" is? How do you look someone in the eye, who is trying to console you and tell them that they are making it hurt worse? Especially when coming from someone else, it might not hurt so badly?
I know this issue has not been solved. In fact, I fear it may have gotten worse since now she is afraid to talk to me.
Monday, June 11, 2007
A repost
My friend Heather, who is a teacher in Florida, posted this today on MySpace. So i am stealing it and posting it here because i think it's a really important message and delivered with such fervor!
Saturday, June 09, 2007
What the problem wasn't
The problem wasn't making myself look pregnant for "pregnant' themed bunco last night (and i must say that my bump was almost the best one. The best one belongs of course, to Shannon, who really is pregnant
The problem was trying to find pants.
And then it was realizing that I still needed to go to thee grocery store. I went to one outside my neighborhood, and thankfully didn't see anyone I knew on my way to my car. I get myself into the strangest predicaments.
The problem was trying to find pants.
And then it was realizing that I still needed to go to thee grocery store. I went to one outside my neighborhood, and thankfully didn't see anyone I knew on my way to my car. I get myself into the strangest predicaments.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Stepping into reality
My father did indeed call and leave a message on my voice mail at work and although I forgot to bring the number home last night, I did so today. It sits. In my purse. emitting waves of guilt that I didn't call as soon as I walked in the door. Waves of nervousness and apprehension. I am not over the last call. I don't want to argue with him. and even though I have said I want him in my life? I was just getting used to the idea that he was out. And so, I have to rearrange my thoughts and emotions again. I have to return to the roller coaster that is my life with Daddy.
I imagine he will want to see me for Fathers day. I haven't attempted that in 4 years. (remember, I have not seen him in over three) the last time, he stood me up. I should say us, because C was with me. He was to meet my father for the first time that day. Instead, he met him late at night when we went to pick him up from jail. I will always be grateful to C for accompanying me that night. I didn't now how badly I needed the support.
I know that my upset comes down to fear and anger. I am angry because Daddy has let me down so many times. He has not been the hero I thought I he could be when I was a child, when sometimes my only consolation was that if my Daddy only knew how life was for me, he would make it better. He has not been the adult I needed him to be when I became one. When I think of my father, I think of the last time I was in my grreat grandmother's house. The darkness, the half finished home improvement projects. The smell. The roaches. The lack of water. the garbage in the yard that was Joe's pride. I didn't want to sit anywhere. I didn't want to look into my great grandmother's room and see where he had spelled "I love pussy" in vinyl letters on her dresser mirror. I didn't want to look at Joe's room and see where he had allowed his crack head friends to draw nakid women on the walls. I remember the crack pipes I threw away and the silver spoons used to melt heroin or whatever else you melt in a spoon. I think of the pictures of half nakid women kept side by side with the pictures of my sister and I, the pictures of my grandmother, pictures of women who had no business being nakid on camera. (lest you think I am too judgemental, neither do I) pictures I have not yet thrown away because I can't bear to go through that box again and see the pictures of my dad when he was young and clean and healthy. I can't bear to touch the pictures of those women again. I also fear that he will yell at me when he discovers that I did. That he will yell at me when he finds out I gave away that big box of crap that was taking up far too much of my office space.
I am afraid we will argue again. That he will demand the things I took from the storage unit. I don't want to give up the pictures. They are all the pictures I have. Of GG and Joe. Of Ma and Frank. Of my grandfather. I know they are all he has too. But I can't help but feel like he doesn't deserve them.
It's a DIRTY feeling I feel when I think of my father, and I live a clean life. Part of me wants to call and patch things up. Part of me wants to bury the number until I am ready to deal with it. Let him sweat a bit.
But I am not like that. I know it took a lot of courage for him to call.
At times like these, I picture myself the last time I went snowboarding. Up on the hill at Heavenly looking over what looked like a cliff and complaining that "I am NOT a snowboarder, I am a soapmaker!". Knowing that there is no other way down. And that there is no time like the present. Maybe I will strap on my snowboard before I call. Maybe then I will feel brave.
I imagine he will want to see me for Fathers day. I haven't attempted that in 4 years. (remember, I have not seen him in over three) the last time, he stood me up. I should say us, because C was with me. He was to meet my father for the first time that day. Instead, he met him late at night when we went to pick him up from jail. I will always be grateful to C for accompanying me that night. I didn't now how badly I needed the support.
I know that my upset comes down to fear and anger. I am angry because Daddy has let me down so many times. He has not been the hero I thought I he could be when I was a child, when sometimes my only consolation was that if my Daddy only knew how life was for me, he would make it better. He has not been the adult I needed him to be when I became one. When I think of my father, I think of the last time I was in my grreat grandmother's house. The darkness, the half finished home improvement projects. The smell. The roaches. The lack of water. the garbage in the yard that was Joe's pride. I didn't want to sit anywhere. I didn't want to look into my great grandmother's room and see where he had spelled "I love pussy" in vinyl letters on her dresser mirror. I didn't want to look at Joe's room and see where he had allowed his crack head friends to draw nakid women on the walls. I remember the crack pipes I threw away and the silver spoons used to melt heroin or whatever else you melt in a spoon. I think of the pictures of half nakid women kept side by side with the pictures of my sister and I, the pictures of my grandmother, pictures of women who had no business being nakid on camera. (lest you think I am too judgemental, neither do I) pictures I have not yet thrown away because I can't bear to go through that box again and see the pictures of my dad when he was young and clean and healthy. I can't bear to touch the pictures of those women again. I also fear that he will yell at me when he discovers that I did. That he will yell at me when he finds out I gave away that big box of crap that was taking up far too much of my office space.
I am afraid we will argue again. That he will demand the things I took from the storage unit. I don't want to give up the pictures. They are all the pictures I have. Of GG and Joe. Of Ma and Frank. Of my grandfather. I know they are all he has too. But I can't help but feel like he doesn't deserve them.
It's a DIRTY feeling I feel when I think of my father, and I live a clean life. Part of me wants to call and patch things up. Part of me wants to bury the number until I am ready to deal with it. Let him sweat a bit.
But I am not like that. I know it took a lot of courage for him to call.
At times like these, I picture myself the last time I went snowboarding. Up on the hill at Heavenly looking over what looked like a cliff and complaining that "I am NOT a snowboarder, I am a soapmaker!". Knowing that there is no other way down. And that there is no time like the present. Maybe I will strap on my snowboard before I call. Maybe then I will feel brave.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Sometimes I frighten myself
Remember how in my last post I talked about my dad?
He called. I have not spoken to him yet. He has talked to my mom, and called my Seester on her birthday for the first time in a very long time. That is something for her to blog about. I will blog that I am exceptionally pleased that he is making contact. I am also nervou about it, but optimistic. I am expecting a message from him when I return to work tomorrow. I was out Friday for a funeral.
Speaking of which, it is hard to imagine that Maryanne has left my world after being a satellight in it for the last 25 years. She was Mrs Claus at our holiday parties. One of the reasons I thought it important to go was to support my grandmother who remarked that they had been friends for 40 years. I know it's hard for her to handle first playing nurse to (this blessed woman is an RN. When her friends and neighbors need nursing, she takes care of them. No questions, no complaints, out of the goodness of her heart) and then to say goodbye to so many people and know she will have to soon say goodbye to so many more. I dread that facet of growing older. It was hard knowing that there wasn't anything I could do to comfort her in the face of this fact of life. But when, during the service, she put her arm around me, I snuggled up to her like a small child and we sat that way for several minutes. It felt really good.
It was a Catholic ceremony. during the part when you hug the people around you, Brother turned his back on and refused to hug our mom. I would really like to slap him for that. I heard him telling Nana how it's really awful living with my mom. She gave him sympathy, I felt angry because he tells people she's a horrible person. and they believe him.
He called. I have not spoken to him yet. He has talked to my mom, and called my Seester on her birthday for the first time in a very long time. That is something for her to blog about. I will blog that I am exceptionally pleased that he is making contact. I am also nervou about it, but optimistic. I am expecting a message from him when I return to work tomorrow. I was out Friday for a funeral.
Speaking of which, it is hard to imagine that Maryanne has left my world after being a satellight in it for the last 25 years. She was Mrs Claus at our holiday parties. One of the reasons I thought it important to go was to support my grandmother who remarked that they had been friends for 40 years. I know it's hard for her to handle first playing nurse to (this blessed woman is an RN. When her friends and neighbors need nursing, she takes care of them. No questions, no complaints, out of the goodness of her heart) and then to say goodbye to so many people and know she will have to soon say goodbye to so many more. I dread that facet of growing older. It was hard knowing that there wasn't anything I could do to comfort her in the face of this fact of life. But when, during the service, she put her arm around me, I snuggled up to her like a small child and we sat that way for several minutes. It felt really good.
It was a Catholic ceremony. during the part when you hug the people around you, Brother turned his back on and refused to hug our mom. I would really like to slap him for that. I heard him telling Nana how it's really awful living with my mom. She gave him sympathy, I felt angry because he tells people she's a horrible person. and they believe him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
