Meanderings of a Restless Mind

2011: A Review.

2012-01-18T00:00:00.010-05:00

More than 365 days have passed since I last wrote. It was not my intention to neglect this creative outlet. Rather, life was moving faster than I could manage and I have only just caught my breath. Let me detail what I'm referring to:

As previously noted, in October 2010 we met Jimmy, Laura, and Eli in New Orleans and an amazing time was had by all. However, within a week of returning from our trip, it was clear I could no longer ignore the burning suspicion in my head that the constant abdominal discomfort I had been experiencing was, in fact, important and not to be ignored. Well, not anymore.
It was a Sunday night when I finally peed on the stick and confirmed, with only some dismay (at life's best laid plans), that we were pregnant. And, it was only a week or so later that my doctor confirmed the same. A baby!
The pregnancy flew by: after a few more weeks we found out we were having a boy and then we just tried to enjoy ourselves as much as possible while closely tracking my ever-growing belly and its contents.
In April, for Jonny's birthday, I surprised him with a 5-day getaway in Berkeley Springs, West Virginia. He and I, the Peanut, and the two dogs hid ourselves away in a mountainside cabin enjoying little besides ourselves, good food, reading, and DVD-watching. It was perfect.
On June 14th we bid farewell to Ms. Dahlia as she journeyed on to the next stage of existence. Her health had deteriorated so significantly we could no longer justify medicating her and hoping for the best. That was an especially sad day.
On June 16th I woke up bright and early feeling only what I can describe, still to this day, as "odd". For some reason, I immediately jumped in the shower and got dressed for the day. Downstairs I went to prop myself up on the couch with my laptop and work from home, as I had been the entire week. The Peanut was already four days late and I had grown bored of attempting to coax him out.
It wasn't until nearly 4pm that I finally determined I was in labor. That odd feeling never did subside and by the late afternoon had evolved into a growing discomfort. I called the doctor to report my conclusions, they concurred, and off to the hospital we went ... but not before I ate some pizza and finished packing my bag.
We checking into the hospital and waited for a triage room. Triage. Where you go to be assessed before being relocated to the comfort of a birthing suite for the main event. Or, in my case, where I went to be assessed, evaluated, and not relocated because everyone in a 100-mile vicinity had decided to have their baby that night in that same hospital. I will spare you all the gory details but several hours later I was finally moved to a birthing suite in tremendous discomfort and wanting nothing, in the whole world, except an epidural which I received, in expeditious fashion.
I pushed for ... hours. We tried everything. We rested, we waited, I pushed, rinse and repeat. Our baby, after 10 months, was still not quite ready to meet us. The nerve! About 8-9 hours from the time we checked in, my doctor finally concluded a C-section was in order. Oh goodie! Who doesn't want to be in labor for 9 hours, pushing and sweating, and then have their abdomen torn open?!
Suited up in surgical gear, we headed to the operating room. More drugs! In a very short time I went from keenly feeling every single twinge and pinch to thinking being cut and held open was great fun. Seriously, I'm not quite sure where I was at that point but the operating room was not it - as evidenced by the blank expression on my face in the first photograph of me holding my son.
Within minutes our baby was born but not before the anesthesiologist told Jonny to stand up and take a look at what was going on. He'll never be the same. At least there are no photographs of that precious moment in time.
Alexander James was born at 7:16am on June 17, 2011. He weighed 8 pound, 12 ounces and was 21 inches in length. He was beautiful. Perfect, in every way. We were immediately overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation as babies rarely offer you an opportunity to inhale, just immediately attend to their needs ... and continue doing so for the next 18 years, give or take.
Jonny celebrated his first Father's Day attending the U.S. Open with my Dad. Even after a full day outside in the sunshine of June in D.C., he was quite relieved to return to us at the hospital and hold his son. His son!
A few days later we were back home and Alex continues to be a bright ray of sunshine in our lives. We're so thankful for him and we could not love anyone more.
Since we barely had anything to do anymore (ha!), in July we decided to adopt a cat. The three of us headed to the Washington Humane Society to check in on Patches, whom Jonny had taken a liking to on the Web site. As we crossed the doorway into "Kitty City", Patches immediately jumped up from her perch and meowed directly at Jonny. It was love at first sight and I knew we were going home with a cat that very day. Mayhem, as she is now known, is a darling girl and a great addition to our family.
My birthday came and went, lacking much of the typical fanfare and intense partying I had grown accustomed to. However, there were new people and things to help us celebrate and that made it all the more special. Besides, I still got my homemade lobster boil at Mom & Dad's house and that was all that really mattered.
On September 11th, I watched in horror as my longtime canine companion, Casey, passed away in front of me. I was alone - with the baby asleep upstairs - and I stood over him screaming, shaking him, and sobbing uncontrollably. With Jonny at work, my parents had to come to the rescue. Dad and I drove him to Friendship and said our final goodbyes. No dog will ever compare. Ever.
In October we visited Jimmy & Laura in their new home: San Francisco, California. We spent a week exploring the city and surrounding areas, visiting wineries, eating amazing food, and being together without the usual distractions of work and life. It was divine. Alex was a champion flyer; even on the red-eye back to D.C. We still celebrate the small victory of successfully traveling with an infant.
Later in October, Alex and I flew by ourselves to visit my sister and her family in their new home: Hampden, Maine. No longer The Canadians, I was forced to revise my nickname for them to The Maineacs. We spent the week sending the girls off to kindergarten, catching up, playing with the baby, and just relaxing. It was a really nice way to spend my month: with family.
While I was in Maine, I had been faithfully checking the D.C. pet adoption sites in search of a dog, as we had been for about a month already. We had agreed that our house wasn't the same without one and it was time to remedy that situation. We had already encountered a few roadblocks but knew that we were bound to find a good match. One morning, I spotted a cute little hound mix puppy with an interesting name: Hamlin. Being that the road we live on is Hamlin, I knew it was fate! I frantically called Jonny who, within hours, was at the Washington Animal Rescue League visiting with this young pup. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he really liked him and I was so excited to meet him myself, as long as no one successfully adopted him between then and when I got home. Oh no!
Fortunately, a previously submitted adoption application on Hamlin fell through and we were next on the list of interested adopters. Within days, we were the owners of a 4 month old puppy. Wait, what?! What did we just do? Hamlin is a darling boy and a fast learner but I can say, with certainty, this will be the last time we go the "puppy route". I suppose, though, if you're going to have a puppy and a baby it's better to do both at once. They adore each other and that makes us very happy, indeed.
The holidays came and went with the usual whirlwind of madness. My entire family was visiting, which made for a chaotic and entertaining Christmas morning. The day after Christmas we drove up to New Jersey for a short visit with Jonny's family too. And then, the New Year was upon us ... just like that.
On January 3rd, Jonny and I were married in an intimate ceremony at the D.C. courthouse. It was everything we wanted and very special to us with only our child (and a friend who took photographs) as witness. We're busy planning a celebration for all our friends and family to enjoy but the deed is done and we are so happy.
Alex is 8 months old now and, shortly, we'll be celebrating his first year with us. He has his first tooth - on the bottom row - and is working on another already. He is a handsome boy, with an infectious grin. He shows us, every day, just how smart he is and we are cherishing the adventure. Soon he'll be crawling and our life will take on yet another new dimension.

Wow. See what I mean about being breathless?! And, as that brief summary brings us to the current day I can now focus on more important topics like pet peeves, good food, and coming to grips with raising a son in this tumultuous society. I hope you return to read more. Really.

Keeping It To Myself

2010-12-09T15:44:00.001-05:00

You may have noticed, my blog has gone private. You would have noticed this because you're only one of a handful of people who have been invited to read it at all. In addition to keeping my business out of the hands of people who don't need such information, it also allows me the freedom to discuss important issues at hand. Namely: Peanut!

So, stay tuned. And thanks for tuning in at all.

Three months move at the speed of 90 days.

2010-09-15T00:00:00.009-04:00

While I was busy neglecting my blog for the past few months so much has happened!

I survived World Cup. And, actually, really enjoyed myself too. Possibly the only thing that could have topped that was actually being IN South Africa. Oh well, one of these days.
Casey had surgery on the ugly tumor on his shoulder. He came through with flying colors and healed perfectly but then we found out (from the biopsy) that the tumor was cancerous. Now we just have to hope it does not return. So far, so good.
I began a long, and seemingly endless, love affair with the cookies n' cream milkshake at Good Stuff Eatery. Damn you, Spike!
Laura and I pulled off an epic birthday/weekend getaway surprise in the mountains of West Virginia for Jimmy's 25th birthday. We managed not to suck anyone into the "planning black hole" (Quote: Jimmy) we created AND not to have anyone spoil the surprise either. Such fun.
I got to spend the day at the Baltimore Aquarium with my nieces (and sister, brother-in-law, brother, and mother) on my actual birthday. YAY!
We then pulled off an equally epic happy hour/birthday party for the two of us; our last opportunity to celebrate together for the foreseeable future. We're so fancy. And, I will forever be completely and utterly enamored with P.O.V. at the W.
I declined to renew my lease for the first time in nearly six years. I will, instead, be relocating myself, my belongings, my dog, and my turtle to the home of my amazingly generous and gracious boyfriend as of the end of October. If anyone has any helpful tips on packing for the first time in six years on a schedule that barely allows hours for sleep, please let me know! So far, it's been a most amazing purge.
Laura moved in with me temporarily. With the end of her lease not coinciding well with her last day of work, it made sense for her to take up residence on my couch for a few weeks. She's a great roomie.
This weekend I get to take my annual trip to the Renaissance Festival to eat, drink beer, enjoy the fall weather, and partake in the spectator sport of people watching.
In two weeks Jimmy and Laura will leave town for good. San Francisco beckons to them but not before they endure a 6-7 week journey cross country first. I'm not sure it's possible to be more jealous of them than I am right now. Sadness. And, happiness.
In about three weeks, Jonny and I will meet Jimmy and Laura in New Orleans, Louisiana. We'll send them off to their next stop and then have the whole week left to enjoy our favorite city together for the first time. I love NOLA.
And then? Well, then I move ... YAY! I'll be an official resident of D.C.! YAY!
And then? Well, then I promise to rekindle my interest in writing this blog.

Celebrity Bar(tender)

2010-06-24T00:00:00.000-04:00

Okay, not really but it's still fun to see your own "name in lights". YAY World Cup! YAY Lucky Bar!

Coping Mechanism

2010-06-03T00:00:00.002-04:00

As we near the one-month anniversary of all my shifts at the bar being of the bartending variety, I have done my best to cope with this outrageous schedule I follow. It's not been easy. I have been arriving at the office at too-late hours for my liking (thus, causing me to work later in the day too), forced to take whole days off without planning in advance due to complete exhaustion, and nearly falling asleep at my desk on more than a dozen occasions. No one can live like this.

With that in mind, I came up with a new scheme to propose to my boss. I am going to request a 32-hour work week (Fridays off) going forward, to begin next week. Yes, it will result in a further "pay cut", though not nearly of the significance of the one I have already endured (and still await correction of ... *face turning blue*). Yes, it will result in a decreased accumulation of leave time. However, it will allow me some sanity, time to myself, time with my pets, and the ever-elusive time with my bed. Most importantly, 32 hours are still enough to constitute a full-time employee and, thus, my benefits will remain fully intact. Win-win-win? Could it be true?

I am confident that my request will be met with a resounding "yes". It was, after all, one of the alternatives offered up at the time of my last denial (to the proposal of working from home twice per week). Now that I have calculated the actual impact, it turns out that it is quite viable and the savings for my mind, body, and soul will be more than worth the monetary loss. I am bound to be a much happier, more relaxed lady in very short order. Thank goodness.

In other news, my 8-year anniversary with the company is next week. Do you suppose anyone cares? Or, will even remember? I mean, we all know they're not giving out raises (ha!) so will they just skip over it as though it never occurred at all? My best guess is ... yes. Further proof of the declining value of the primary functions of this company. If you are not rewarding your employees for longevity, hard work, and commitment then why are you even in business? They are what keeps you in business, after all. Best not to poison the well with bad politics, in my opinion. But, remember, no one around here cares what I think. I just fill a seat. But, now I only fill it four days per week. YAY!

We already talked about THAT.

2010-05-11T00:00:00.008-04:00

Thursday night's bar shift turned out to be a huge party. The front bar was packed end to end, and beyond, with friends and family all wishing Kelly well in her future endeavors. We regaled her with balloons, cupcakes, wine, and a tiara; there is no mistaking the amount she, and Jeff, will be missed. Of course, with every great party come a couple of cocktails and some late hours. When I finally arrived home it was nearly 4am. As previously stated, my interview was scheduled for 9am that morning. I debated going to bed and taking a 3-hour nap against trying to keep myself awake until it was time to leave. Eventually, I opted to stay awake. I put forth a tremendous effort but, in the final hour before I needed to "get up" I just could not keep my eyes open any longer and managed about 30 minutes of rest.

I was able to get my act together and myself out the door almost exactly on time; an hour prior to the interview. Traffic, as predicted, was frustrating and gave me a touch of anxiety about my arrival time. However, I pulled into the parking lot of the interview location with about ten minutes to spare. I got myself checked in and waited for my name to be called. I spent a few minutes chit-chatting with Manager #2 in the lobby and we seemed to hit it off right away. A few minutes later, eyes bleary and body exhausted, I was taken back to an office and offered a seat across from Manager #1.

Manager #1 is the type of person who can make another cringe or cower from the sound of his voice alone. He's a big guy, who talks with big expressive gestures, and a very big voice. We went over the details of my resume and he filled me in on the basics of how their system works. Not dissimilarly from my current bar position, their system is that you work your way up and that everyone is, essentially, competing for the exclusive bartending positions from the server staff pool. As he discussed the details of the restaurant and their particular management style, I found myself physically backing away from him so as not to get showered by the considerable froth gathering in the corners of his mouth. I appreciate a person who is enthusiastic about their work and ideas but we're the only two people in the room AND I'm sitting directly in front of you. Calm down, killer. It was then that he popped up like toast out of his seat, turned on his heel to get Manager #2, and then quickly turned back pointing in the general direction of my forehead and saying "... oh, and you can't have that." Before I could even begin to conjure an appropriate response, he was out the door.

That. What is "that", you may be wondering? Well, "that" is my eyebrow piercing. There are three things which bother me about his particular approach to that management moment:

He pointed at my face. I don't know about you guys but my Mom taught me that pointing is rude. Particularly when the pointee is aware of your pointing.
Rather than opening up a dialogue with me about the body artwork that I have chosen for myself, what with it being MY body and all, he took the cowardly route by slipping his thought in at the very last moment.
I have earrings all over both of my ears as well. So, where does one draw the line? Is it just because it's an eyebrow piercing?

Fortunately, my brain spasm over this bit of rudeness was quelled by the arrival of Manager #2, whom I had already met in the lobby upon my arrival. He focused his portion of the interview on asking me some cheesy, undoubtedly Internet-found questions about my abilities. We had a frank discussion about practices and policies behind the bar. He mentioned the possibility of moving up to bar manager on several occasions. He appreciated that I came with an extensive corporate background, which could prove useful to them in some other capacity down the road. It was an overwhelmingly positive several minutes, at the conclusion of which I was told I was being "hired on the spot."

What an amazing feeling. "Hired on the spot." First of all, I cannot even recall the last time I sat down for an actual interview. My last three hiring experiences have not involved a bit of interviewing. Word of mouth led to a discussion of terms and the subsequent presentation of an employment offer ... simple, sweet, pain-free. I had been experiencing considerable anxiety on the drive up about my capacity, in my state of limited sleep, to coherently respond to the questions posed. And there I was, being "hired on the spot." I was immediately rushed off to another office to begin filling out forms. Tax forms, ID forms, availability forms ... so many forms it was making my sleepy brain spin. Manager #2 stuck around while I was completing my paperwork. It was then that it occurred to me that I should ask him about the piercing situation, just to clear the air.

I clued him in on what Manager #1 had said to me, but decided against describing his less than desirable method. Manager #2 contorted his face into an odd expression and said "that's not been decided for sure yet" and that it was "not really something I should worry about at this point." So, I didn't worry about it. While I continued with my paperwork I also met both of the owners who were excited that I had a degree, business experience, and the ability to write. They showed me plans of the restaurant, shared photos of the progress, and told great stories about how they met and this whole concept was born. I eventually finished all of my paperwork, provided two forms of identification, and left there feeling extremely satisfied. Next stop: orientation at 1pm on Monday.

I spent a good portion of my weekend excitedly describing the interview to anyone who cared or would listen. I was feeling very positive about the whole thing, especially now that I was asked not to worry about Manager #1 and his stated piercing policy. I wrestled internally with the logistics and options of leaving one job for another. I finally settled on a plan that seemed workable and finished out the weekend very interested in the possibility and anxious for more information.

I arrived at the orientation site and checked in prior to 1pm. Before long we were being split up into groups, by position, and sent off into various classrooms. Introductions of the entire management and corporate-side staff were made, long-winded explanations and speeches were given, and finally we were left in the hands of the HR consultant hired to provide training, guidance, and support through the beginning stages of the opening. The consultant spent about an hour going over the basics of sexual harassment and diversity awareness. Tedious as it was, I realize how very necessary it is to ensure that your staff has a firm grasp of rules and expectations in those realms. Nonetheless, borrrrrrrring. Following that presentation we were asked to review our paperwork for any missing information. One of the support staff was handing out folders which we were asked to bring with us every day of training. Finally, someone mentions training.

I flip open my folder to a calendar of events only to discover that they expected training to begin this Thursday (as in, two days from now) and continue through Monday every day from 10am-3/4pm. Whoa ... information that would have been useful at the time of the interview. I had already skipped a full day and a half of work just to accommodate the interview and orientation. Now I was going to have to take another three days off my full-time job AND get my bar shift covered on Saturday AND miss the softball game on Sunday? It was right about then that my confidence shifted and I started feeling as though this was not a good match after all. No mention, at all, was made of how aggressive the training schedule is or what to do in the event of a conflict. Call me crazy but there is no way that all 140 people they hired are available six hours a day for five days straight.

We were just about wrapping up when Manager #1 opened his big mouth again. "For those of you who took a smoke break earlier, that will be the last one on the clock ever." Understandable. Not a fantastic idea to have your staff hanging around the entrance sucking "fresh air" all day and night. "And, just to clarify on visible piercings and tattoos ... men, you can have a pair (of earrings); women, don't go crazy all up and down the ears with bars and huge hoops (right, cause we're the only ones who go "crazy" on our ears); no tongue rings; very small nose studs are okay - no rings; and, of course, we already talked about that" he says, as he points in my general direction. Yes, he pointed at me. Again. Not only did he point at me but he didn't even clarify what he was talking about so no one behind me knew what was going on and no one in front of me did either unless they happened to catch the piercing while my hair was swept to the side. Management skills sorely lacking.

Finally, we were released. I immediately got on the phone with Kelly, primarily to arrange our plans for their last evening in town, but also to bitch about what had just happened. She made some very practical suggestions about what to say to them about the short fuse on the training schedule and the piercing situation too. I followed that up with a call to my Mom who very much agreed with Kelly and thought it most unfortunate that people still react in that manner to something so commonplace - which, in and of itself, was a strange thing to hear her say aloud. I continued to bounce my thoughts about the new position off Lori, my dinner date, and anyone else who would lend me their ear. By the end of the evening it was settled. There was no reasonable way for me to accept this position. Too many obstacles had been thrown up and it seemed perfectly clear that this was no match for me.

This morning I sent off an e-mail to the Director of Operations, and asked her to share the message with the two owners and two managers. In it, I thanked them for the opportunity but notified them that the training expectation was too much, too soon for me particularly in light of having to resign from my current position without appropriate notice. And, I mentioned that I was disappointed in the piercing policy particularly since the ears and nose are okay but nothing else. That hardly seems fair. Ears are one thing but if you’re not allowing facial piercings beyond that then it should include the nose. It’s clear, to me at least, that they were building in an exception for someone they already knew had their nose pierced but that’s where the line was drawn. The message was received and I was thanked for notifying them.

I know. It seems like a huge let-down at this point. After all the excitement and hoopla, I think we were all expecting a different outcome. However, I did learn a few things:

I can still own an interview. Even if my last one was over ten years ago.
I will not settle. I still have a job. All this really allows me is the freedom to continue looking and identify the exact right thing; not the first thing that comes along.
I will not alter the choices I have made in regard to my appearance for any job. Ever. Further, it's obvious that I do not have to do such a thing since I currently am employed by two separate places that could care less where I stab or draw on myself.
I will not go corporate. If the ultimate objective is to leave a desk job, then the secondary objective is to take a giant step back from all things corporate. To include your uniforms, measured pours, 100-page handbooks, and Outback-Steakhouse-meets-A.D.D. method of service and training.

I am not deterred. In fact, I feel renewed in my efforts to really, actively make this change in my life. And, soon. For my personal sanity, for the love of my dog, in the interest of freeing up extra time to spend with a certain special someone, and for reclaiming a more reasonable sleep schedule. I applied for three more jobs this morning.

The Good Employee

2010-05-06T00:00:00.003-04:00

It was eight years ago, this June, that I signed the offer of employment from this company, that shall remain anonymous. In a period of transition and uncertainty, I found myself in need of income with no interviews scheduled or offers pending. A neighbor, and coincidentally the employer of my father, extended an opportunity to provide some assistance to an overworked manager at the company. It was both the intent of my employer and me that this would be a temporary arrangement, pending the landing of another opportunity more in line with my ultimate goals. Eight years ago.

Over the course of those eight years, a lot has changed for me personally but change in the work environment has been stagnant. I have been both single and taken in that time. I have cut up all of my credit cards and pursued an aggressive, ongoing debt repayment plan. I have traveled cross country and back. I have seen the birth of my beautiful nieces, my brother graduate from college, my Mother retire, and my Father's hair finally start graying. I have made amazing, lasting friendships and allowed others to wane in their natural form. I have also, finally, taken steps toward pursuing the future that I choose, not the one imposed upon me by life's circumstance.

Here at the office, things have progressed along a very different track in that same period. The first five years included hard-fought, and won, pay increases and increasing responsibility. The last three years have been something more akin to a struggle. The focus of upper-management has shifted toward an unreliable and unstable path. The ability to run the company in a productive and enjoyable manner has devolved. The shocking lack of concern with regard to morale and general employee welfare has been discovered, noted, and criticized.

I previously wrote about a pay cut that some of us were asked to suffer at the beginning of this year. In all of those months (five), management has remained silent on the progress of reinstating those monies to us. I submit that ignoring the elephant in the room is he quickest way to get hurt. The powers that be took a gamble when they issued that pay cut. They were betting that the combination of a recession, a shaky job market, and residual good feelings from more successful years would keep the butts in their seats. It was a cunning risk ... and it worked. Some of the staff are suffering their second pay cut since their first day here. The first was ultimately returned but the loss of income over that period caused most of the staff tremendous financial strain, from which some of them are still recovering. I have no reason to believe, and no evidence to support, this current pay cut being rectified anytime soon. And, with no management sounds bites to counteract that feeling, it runs rampant.

Morale is at an all-time low since the start of my eight years. Staff are angry. Very angry. Reasonable requests sit for weeks, go unanswered, and ultimately are denied. Questions sit unanswered. Uncertainty fills the air. People are genuinely concerned and they are more than justified. If the company is forced to dissolve due to lack of income there are several people here who may never find work again due to their "undesirable" age. Some of these people are approaching their 15th, and even 20th, anniversaries here. Some of these people never had any reason to believe they couldn't ride this job right into the golden years of retirement. Some of these people are about to have a most unfortunate wake-up call.

A request I made recently was one of those denied. Following the pay cut, I had no other option than to pick up as many shifts at my second job as humanly possible. My new schedule results in a 70+ hour work week. There are nights when my scheduled sleep time is only 4-5 hours long, never mind getting home later than expected or having trouble turning the volume down in my head and body once I do finally lie down. There are only three days per week that I spend any quantifiable measure of time at home. I pay an astronomical fee to house my belongings and pets; were it an acceptable practice I could get as much use out of a giant storage space. I work like a madwoman to keep my bills, and rent, paid. And, for what? So I have no hours left in the day to enjoy myself? To sleep? To be the dog owner I want to be? To run an errand or, God forbid, enjoy an evening out with friends or a date? This is no way to live.

My request was a simple one. Is it acceptable for someone with the schedule I keep, fully outlined for proper consideration, to work from home two days per week? I have full access to a VPN. I have faster Internet at home than I do here, and my computer security is all up-to-date and well-maintained. In addition, my work is not so uniquely tied to the office that I must be here all day, every day in order to complete my duties. This would allow me both some flexibility in my hours and the ability to still be the productive and reliable employee that I am. After waiting nearly three weeks, I received the answer I was fully expecting. NO. And, as though the answer wasn't bad enough I was further informed that, essentially, I (and my co-workers) am not viewed as trustworthy. They treated my request in an utterly unprofessional and disrespectful manner by allowing it to sit so long unanswered when the response was firm and required no debate. I know … they were hoping it would just go away.

So, let's get this straight. Your employees, most of whom have been here well in excess of five years, are not trustworthy? You hired, and continue to employ, individuals in whom you have no confidence? You're under the, mistaken, impression that you're more capable of monitoring my productivity in this office than anywhere else? To that I say "Haha!" The only thing you're monitoring in this office is my attendance. If you were truly measuring productivity than you would know EXACTLY why your corporate future is so shaky, because you have an excessive draw on your overhead dollars with no return whatsoever. You made a bad business decision. Everyone here knows it. Now pull your tail back between your legs and make a good business decision by protecting those staff who have been so loyal to you all this time, despite your very questionable behavior and decision-making.

I look forward to finding myself in a place where my loyalty, trustworthiness, and capabilities are not used against me. I look forward to identifying an employer who knows exactly what they got when they extended that offer of employment and cannot wait to put my skills to good use. Most of you know that I never intended to sit behind a desk for the remainder of my working days. As I stated the other day, the next desk I want to sit behind is in the basement of the bar I own and nowhere else. I had a plan ... I still have a plan. While the leap I want to take will add months (years?) onto the schedule of that plan, I believe the impact on my life as a whole will more than justify it. So, I willingly throw myself onto an uncertain path and await the outcome. My interview is at 9am tomorrow morning.

Seriously Easy Dinners

2010-04-09T00:00:00.004-04:00

Pork and Veggie Stir Fry

Rice (white, brown, whatever you prefer)
Boneless pork chops (or chicken), cut in strips
Red bell pepper, cut in strips
Broccoli, cut in florets
Yellow onion, cut in strips
Button mushrooms, quartered
Snow peas
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
Salt and pepper, to taste

The amount of each of the above ingredients depends on how many you're cooking for - I used approximately 1 cup each of the rice and veggies with 3 small pork chops and it fed two with enough leftovers for one.

Prepare your rice according to the directions, set aside. Pre-cook the pork (with salt and pepper to taste) on high heat until slightly browned on both sides, set aside. Heat your wok (or other deep pot) on high. Add vegetable oil and heat. Once pan and oil are very hot (heat is key!), coat the sides of the pan with the oil.

Add the red pepper and broccoli, stirring frequently. Add the onion and mushrooms, stirring frequently. Add the snow peas, combining with the other veggies. Salt and pepper, to taste. Add the pre-cooked pork and continue stirring. Finally, add the pre-cooked rice and combine all ingredients thoroughly. Once the rice is heated you're ready to serve. This should only take about ten minutes total - the very high heat of the wok leads to very speedy cooking. I like some soy sauce to top it off. Enjoy!

Hearty Chopped Salad

Lettuce (I prefer a mix, pre-packaged is fine), chop into bite-size pieces
Carrot, cubed
Celery, cubed
Broccoli, cubed, pre-steamed for 3 minutes and then cooled
Mushroom, cubed
Avocado, cubed
Cheese (I use longhorn), cubed
Hard-boiled eggs, cubed
Canned tuna, drained and flaked

For the Dijon Vinaigrette dressing:

3/4 c. extra virgin olive oil
1/4 c. red wine vinegar
2-3 garlic cloves, chopped finely
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
Salt and pepper, to taste
Combine thoroughly and serve

Again, the amount of each of the above ingredients depends on how many you're cooking for - I used 1 cup each of the veggies and cheese, 3 eggs, and 2 cans of tuna to serve two with leftovers for one.

Place all the ingredients together in a bowl, except the avocados, and combine gently. At this point you can either dress the entire salad or leave the dressing for each person to use as they please. Add the avocado and serve. Enjoy!

No, I do not have the plague.

2010-02-22T00:00:00.004-05:00

Things I do not have:

The plague (as noted)
H1N1 or any other type of flu
West Nile virus
[Pick any other widely communicable disease and insert here]

Things I do have:

Free will
The right, and the ability, to live my life the way I see fit
[Among other things]

Why, you may ask, do I mention these things that for most (should) seem obvious? The answer is that I'm tired; exhausted, even. I am tired of people reacting as though I have just blown anthrax in their general direction when they find out I am single.

It does not even matter who you are to me - something, or someone, has convinced the populace that I am the possessor of some fatal flaw because I do not choose to attach another human being to myself. Nor does it seem to matter what your particular relationship status is - single, engaged, or married - the wide eyes and mouth-agape say it all. I can read your thoughts all over your face:

Is she gay (I mean, she does have all those piercings)?
Is she a horrible, awful, hateful person who just cannot be loved?
What's wrong with her (that this dreadful fate of being alone has been cast upon her)?

Well, my friends, there is nothing wrong with me (no more than anyone else). I have made choices in my life and I conduct myself within those boundaries almost exclusively. I am, currently, single. I date when the mood, and the appropriate gentleman, strikes me. This does not happen frequently. I am more than a little particular and know that I have every right to be picky about whom I allow within my inner circle.

Beyond that, I have absolutely NO desire to marry. [Insert more wide open mouths and eyes, in reaction, here.] I am not on the elusive hunt for some young man upon whom to hitch my wagon. Any of the things I desire in this lifetime I am perfectly capable of achieving myself. That is not to say that I do not enjoy, nor desire, companionship. In fact, that is exactly what I desire: a companion ... a partner. I am not interested in the combination of our bank accounts, or the taking of his last name. I am interested in finding a person with whom to enjoy all of life's great pleasures, and who will support me in achieving my dreams and goals (and I, in turn, will do the same for him). However, I assure you, that if no such man ever crosses my path I will not spend the remainder of my days wallowing in my single-dom.

Just as you have made choices in your life, I have made a choice to be single. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why most people are programmed to believe that being alone, which is a fallacy in and of itself - who is ever, really, alone? - is such a flaw. In part, I think it is due to spending so much time allowing the media and entertainment industries to pound the "perfect family" ideal into our minds. Maybe a spouse, 2.5 kids, a cat, a dog, and a house with a white picket fence define your ideal. But my current ideal is myself, a dog, a turtle, and an apartment in an urban environment. Someone with whom to share those things is a bonus, not an expectation. It is certainly nothing worth focusing on - what for? - so the rest of your life can pass you by along with all the other singles with whom you do not form a relationship? And, really, do I even need to ask if anyone knows a "perfect family"? One that is perfectly happy, healthy, wealthy, and wise? Yeah, I didn't think so.

Is it too much to ask for people not to project their wants and needs on the actions and thoughts of others? If you cannot ever imagine yourself single, I can do without the gasp and insincere inquiries as to why in reaction to discovering that I am. I did not just tell you that I am going to become a nun, I told you what you already (should) know ... compatible individuals are hard to come by and I am perfectly content to carry on without one. I am not suggesting that sincere inquiries cannot be made by close friends who already know your stance on this topic. But, if I just met you (or hardly know you) and you look at me like I just grew a second head from my neck right before you, there is something very wrong with that. I can actually see the reaction on your face, as I have eyes and am not, thankfully, blind. I realize you cannot see your own face but can you not feel it manipulating itself into a tortured "that poor girl" expression?! C'mon people. I'm telling you MY story, this is not about YOU.

Being single is not a crime; stop treating us like it is one. In fact, if you did cease reacting as though I just ran over your dog ... twice, upon hearing such news we all might have much better luck without the added pressure of everyone we know and meet judging every romantic interlude. I hold a firm belief that people insert themselves into other's issues because they have no desire to confront their own. And, yes, we all have issues in some form or another as none of us is perfect.

Stop projecting. Stop judging. Focus on yourself and the world around you - not Tiger Wood's latest infidelity - the REAL world (war, famine, genocide, poverty, lack of education, and so much more). Be a friend. Be an acquaintance. Try not to make the people around you feel like their choices are less than valid. Remember that, for better or worse, people take what others think, or say, about them seriously and those wide eyes of judgment can take a huge toll on a person's self-confidence.

Advent of the New(est) Year

2010-01-04T00:00:00.004-05:00

Deepening confusion clutters the mind. The proliferation of such intense feeling makes it impossible to focus, choose one, process, and return for more. The inability to parse, and tie-off, thought leaves the brain screaming for a quiet moment. One it will, most assuredly, never achieve. Even in sleep, so much consideration accumulates that I am periodically forced awake. Only to lay in frustration, toss and turn, and eventually slip back into the chaos.

I find other's perceptions about the New Year (no matter which one) bringing clarity, fresh starts, and promises anew hilarious, frankly. A New Year brings me nothing but more time to ponder the constant issues of life. Issues that I know, deep in my heart, will never be fully resolved. Yet, my mind persists, steadfast and convinced my "A Ha!" moment will come. In reality, when those moments do arrive they tend more towards the "A Ha Ha Ha ... (continued uncomfortable 'laughter')" than anything else. Nothing has changed with the turn of the clock on January 1st ... save, perhaps, the length of time spent on this spinning orb.

This is not a complaint. I much (MUCH) prefer my mind carry-on in this manner, fruitlessly, than stop altogether. Fortunately, my mind is the benefactor of a person, and heart, who causes (and finds herself a part of) more mind-boggling occurrences than most. I know there is no resolution here; only constant churning and self-deprecation. This may seem sad; it is not. One may only improve through the discovery of their realistic place in the world, the impact of their thoughts and actions, and how best to handle a situation when faced with it once again. For, it will happen again. There is no avoidance, only the application of lessons learned.

I make no resolution in the New Year. I resolve all the year through. In good years, I also evolve but never devolve. My perspective remains: in this next minute you could meet your fate and cease to exist. Have you done all that you have wished in the minutes preceding or, at a very minimum, attempted to put yourself in position to see your wishes fulfilled? If not, your time is ill-spent; wasted, even. You are the sole being responsible for the maintenance of your happiness. The impact others have on you is something you dictate, not vice versa. This is not the promotion of self-centered-ness but self-awareness and the ability you have to control everything you feel and learn. Goodness flows from the individual.

Mildest Possible Description of Recent Frustration Within

2009-12-16T00:00:00.004-05:00

Routine inconsistency is a difficult burden. It's hard enough being consistent! You can imagine why I might be confused after the following set of circumstances unfolded:

You ask me to spend almost an entire year (part-time) planning an extravagant anniversary party. I manage to rack up about $35,000 in party expenses and you congratulate me on my effort.
I sit down for my annual review and am told that no one in the organization will receive more than a 2% raise this year. That's not even sufficient to cover cost of living adjustments.
You decide to renege on your 10+ year habit of providing all your employees with a $50 Honey-baked Ham gift certificate. With no warning. Cause, no one plans on enjoying that type of incentive (not me, I hate ham) during the holidays when they've received it each previous year of their employment.
I sit down for a "15 minute chat" and and am told that everyone in the main office has been asked to endure a 10% pay cut for the indefinite future. Assurances sold but I did not buy.
You inform everyone in the main office about the annual holiday party and gift exchange (which never happened last year) and set the gift price limit at $25. Cause, who doesn't want AND need another shot glass chess set?

I find telling a group of people, with only days between each announcement, that their pay will be cut and that you're anticipating their participation in the holiday party and gift exchange bi-polar, at a minimum. I think I'll use my dollars on the people who really matter in my life and whom I don't mind spending my last dime on because they're important in my world.

And, when you have an acceptable explanation as to why it's appropriate to ask 20 people to take a pay cut instead of asking one to leave, I'll be all ears. It's Christmastime, it's a recession, but I don't think they'll mind ... at least we won't have to fire anyone. Yeah, genius. I'm sure that when you decide you don't have to maintain the pay cut anymore that I'll be getting all that money I lost back, right? Riiiiiiiiight.

What I've described above is, quite literally, only the tip of the iceberg on this topic. It's frustrating, maddening, sickening, and wholly unfair. And, I'm stuck ... at least for the foreseeable future. Had you just asked, I might have accepted being let go (with severance, of course) readily. With a parade and balloons, even. But, you didn't ask. And now I'm worse off than I was before. Gee, that feels good. Thank God we didn't have to fire anyone.

Pedestrian Beware

2009-09-17T00:00:00.004-04:00

I was nearly finished getting ready for work this morning when I heard the sounds. A screech, a thud, and a scream. I looked out my bathroom window, which faces the main road albeit with an obstructed view, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. I thought to myself that it sounded as though someone had been struck by a car and dismissed the thought just as quickly. However, within minutes the area was flooded with emergency vehicles and technicians; I could see the blue and red lights bouncing off my walls.

I grabbed Casey and took him on a modified route from our usual morning stroll so I could really see what was going on. I was dismayed to discover that my suspicion had been correct. Lying in the road, already on a back board and wearing a neck brace, was a young man who was dressed for work and had been the unfortunate victim. His work and gym bags were strewn behind him, five EMS technicians were fastidiously working to get him up on the stretcher and off to more suitable care, and several pedestrians were leering or giving statements to police personnel.

There were two cars stopped in the vicinity of the accident scene but neither appeared to be damaged. One of the drivers kept wavering between being in and out of his car, as though he couldn't figure out what to do with himself. The other watched quietly from the sidewalk. I suspect the accident may have actually been a hit and run and these drivers were the first two who came upon the victim, stopped, and called for help. The time that passed between the first set of sounds and the sirens seems to support this theory too. I certainly hope the victim will be okay. I never saw him move - though EMS typically instructs victims with potential neck injuries not to - but I also didn't see any blood. I'll keep him in my thoughts today.

Pedestrians get struck by vehicles in downtown Silver Spring all too frequently. Casey and I have nearly been victims on occasion. On one afternoon, I actually slapped the back window of a SUV several times as she sped by and mouthed her apologies to me. Gee, that made it all better. Hopefully my dog will survive his heart attack too. :-/ I've seen many others have close calls as well. I am already a firm believer that more than half of our licensed drivers do not know the rules of the road, as evidenced by their poor driving skills. However, when it comes to someone actually being struck down by a vehicle, I just find this lack of skill or knowledge or basic human decency inexcusable. Are we so harried as a society that we can't even take time to ensure that no pedestrians are in our path before we take that turn? They DO have the right of way in crosswalks and other designated areas; do drivers still not know that despite their driving lessons, licensing exams, and innumerable street signs?

I am fully aware that some pedestrians cross where they shouldn't - because the line of sight is obstructed, because the speed is too high, because there's a cross walk another 500 feet down the road so you don’t have to cross right there where you want to - and, unfortunately, I believe the victim this morning was illegally crossing. That doesn't change the fact that there was a pedestrian in someone's path while they were driving down the road and they were either traveling too fast or otherwise too distracted to have an appropriate reaction and avoid the accident. Further, it seems that driver then decided that the legal impact of what they had just caused was too grievous for them to stick around and admit fault. I find this behavior disrespectful. If you, or your loved one, were the victim you would certainly expect the driver to stop, offer assistance, and "do the right thing". Of course none of us wants to find ourselves in that situation but I get the vapors when I think I might hit a bird or a squirrel, so I'm fairly confident I'd endure a full-blown panic attack if I was ever the driver who hit a pedestrian. However, that would never cause me to continue on to my destination as though nothing had happened; “Can’t be late for work!”

Fear is a powerful motivator but I believe it takes a complete deviant to strike someone with their vehicle and speed away. I sincerely doubt the guilt that will creep in your conscience is an easier punishment than explaining yourself in a courtroom and accepting your fate.

Karma is a bitch.

The Lost Art of Manners, Vol. I

2009-09-15T00:00:00.005-04:00

People's lack of manners makes me grumpy and tired. I truly find myself in a spin over some of the things people feel are acceptable "nowadays". And, I'm going to vent about the things I observe here; like it or not. Haha!

Some of the more recent offenses:

Restaurants should be clean. After all, you're about to fill your stomach with the products of their kitchens so I believe acute attention to cleanliness is appropriate. However, one's restaurant should not be cleaned while its patrons are still eating. I'm not talking about wiping a table off before a new group of customers sits down (good). I'm not talking about taking a look at the bathroom every hour or so and straightening up (good). I'm talking about sweeping or mopping in the general vicinity, or directly beneath the feet, of a customer and their food (bad). This has happened to me twice in the same restaurant. A place that I happen to love; albeit not fancy or sophisticated but delicious nonetheless. I get it. You want your floor to be kept clean. Could we just institute a policy of only doing so at vacant tables until closing? Even the least glamorous of places (McDonalds, for instance) have this concept down. That's why we all stop there, and other places like it, for our bathroom breaks on road trips is it not? You just somehow know it is cleaner than your average gas station bathroom, even without them being all in your face with the mop and bucket. Ninja clean.
Be explicit with your questions. The only thing miscommunication begets is misunderstanding and confusion. Questions are relatively simple equations. You provide all of the information required to generate an answer and the other person responds in kind with (hopefully; no accounting for brains in this equation) the information you lack. For example: when you're a cashier at a grocery store and you have scanned all of the patron's items and you then say, "Do you need bags?", my natural response will be, "Yes." The thought process behind my response is: "How in the world do you expect me to carry all of this stuff? In my arms? Retard." Why do I automatically resort to that label? Because you failed to explain to me that your store charges a small fee for each bag, thus why you asked me if I needed any in the first place. See? A simple lack of information leads to me think you're less than intelligent. This happened to me in Canada, in a very intimate community grocery where I have clearly never been seen before - I'm hard to miss being the only pierced girl around town - and the cashier gave me major 'tude about my "Yes" instead of explaining herself. Next time just add "... because we charge $0.10 per bag at this store ..." to your query and voila!
Put the phone down, people. The proliferation of mobile phones has created a vortex of rudeness. The use of a mobile phone has made it acceptable to ignore and snub any other human with which you might otherwise come into contact. This does not even begin to address people's inability to operate both their motor vehicle and their mobile phone simultaneously - don't get me started! No, I'm referring to the woman who holds up the checkout line while she ignores the cashier, shuffles the contents of her purse, and babbles to her friend about nothing in particular all at once. It takes this woman twice as long to get through the procurement portion of her shopping trip because she's not focusing on any of the three activities in which she's engaged. Therefore, she fails at all. She hasn't acknowledged the man who is trying to take her money, which she cannot find because she's holding the mobile phone between her ear and her shoulder, severely impacting her ability to locate her wallet in her purse, all the while having a conversation which consists of more "yeahs" and "uh-huhs" than ever desirable. Lucky caller! Had you just told the caller you'd get back to them in three minutes, had your wallet out and payment ready to present to the cashier, whom you should greet as a basic human decency, you would have been out the door in no time and saved the people in line behind you some exasperation too.
Pick up after your dog. Does this one get any easier? Have we not already discovered the karmic effect of leaving behind your dog's excrement only to step in someone else's deposit a few days later? It is not okay to leave that shit behind; pun intended. Even my three-year old nieces get this one: "Casey poops in the yard. We poop in the 'pobby'." You wouldn't (well, maybe some would) leave your own bathroom functions behind in someone's yard, so why does Fido get a free pass? I'm especially sensitive to this issue because I have a very large dog who, well, you get the idea. Small dogs are not exempt from this rule though! Don't have a bag (or a second bag, as has happened to me and Casey on occasion)? Go home, or to the closest possible place, get one and come back to that spot your pooch so carefully chose for his big moment. Of course it's inconvenient but, more importantly, it's the polite thing to do.
Chivalry is not dead. I refuse to believe that it is, as so many people would have you believe. I'm not talking about the display of good manners you regale on the interest of your affection. I'm referring to simple, everyday moments that all of us miss out on or purposely avoid. These include: holding a door for the person behind you, getting up from a seat you're occupying in favor of an elderly or disabled person, saying "Please" and "Thank you", covering your mouth and nose when you cough or sneeze, excusing yourself when some unintentional bodily function escapes you, speaking at a volume appropriate to your surroundings, and so many others. By all means, lay the charm on extra thick when you're wooing your latest catch but can the rest of us get a little of that good-natured-ness too? Maybe just once in a while? Imagine how such a small act could improve someone's day and the domino effect it could have on so many others who witness said good behavior. We're a society deluged with people behaving badly and are judged accordingly for those actions. I know we can do better.

This concludes the first installment of the rudeness chronicles. And, we're just getting started. I know you see it around too. Feel free to share the experiences you witness which cause you to cringe with embarrassment.

As always, thanks for reading me. =)

Hero In A Minivan

2009-07-06T00:00:00.005-04:00

That night he was driving the 4th cab I approached. It was a trend ... is a trend; to approach the cabs waiting outside the bar and have them turn me away, chuckle to themselves, or, in one particular case, speed away while I'm letting the driver know where I need to go. You'd think it was Siberia or Timbuktu the way these guys react. I guess the six miles North I need to travel home after working my 16th ... 17th ... 20th hour in one day is just too much to ask, eh? I understand that you're not likely to get a fare back into the city at that hour. I understand that concept so well that I tip more generously than normal, as a small thank you to the person who is kind enough to pick me up. People like Mr. Alabi.

Tuesday nights are the toughest of all. I typically find myself at the bar until last call; 1:30am on the weekdays. And, only then, does it ever occur to me that I still need to get outside, procure a cab, endure the ride home, and only then will I be rewarded with the sweet release of relaxation and, eventually, sleep. Never mind the fact that I routinely find myself riding in cabs of considerable disrepair and, often, wonder if I'll ever make it home in the first place. Better still is the process of wading my way through the dredges of the bar who have made their ways onto the street, fending off amorous attention, deftly dodging the television- and/or movie-quote happy bouncer, and making my way to the curb ... frequently just to be told the driver is only taking fares to Virginia. Just, perfect.

So, back to the night he was driving the 4th cab I approached ... at this point, I'm ready to scream and maybe even cry. I'm exhausted. I'm dirty. I'm cash-rich with no means of getting home. He pulled up to me after watching me slam the door of the previous cab in disgust and asked to where I was going. I divulged; mentally prepared for the inevitable no and he told me to jump in. Surprised, I slid open the side door of his minivan and leapt in before he could change his mind. Without a sound, he sped off in the appropriate direction and I closed my eyes with an audible sigh of relief.

He started asking what other drivers normally said to me and wondered aloud what their collective problems might be; I instantly liked him. In fact, he told me he would make far more on this one trip with me then any of those other drivers would among several shorter trips. I felt vindicated in my frustration. With a quarter of the ride under our belts, we stopped at a red light. A homeless woman on crutches approached the van. I hadn't noticed at first that he waved her over with his wallet. He handed her some cash, without a word. I was stunned; being of the opinion that cabbies are typically just as cash poor as I am, despite any desire to actually help a stranger out now and then, it was a most pleasant moment in time. Unexpectedly, she asked if we had any spare beverages. I didn't, he didn't, except the large 7-Eleven coffee he had been holding since the moment he picked me up. She persisted, saying she would take anything even if it had only a sip in it. Thirst is a powerful motivator. He, again silently, handed her the 3/4 full cup of coffee and stepped on the gas. The light had turned green.

I was dumbfounded. I have helped many a homeless person in my years and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. However, there was just something about this interaction that really struck me; positively so. I generally only give money away if I have more than change - handing someone a few coins is embarrassing, at least for me. I have given away one sandwich that I bought for a man standing outside of a store, handed leftovers from a restaurant to a couple near the Metro stop, prepared sandwiches for delivery to Martha's Table or Capital Area Food Bank, and I regularly prune my closet and drawers to the benefit of others. But, never once have I considered giving away what I was holding in my hands, slated for my own use or consumption, something I may have spent my last spare dollars on, and was prepared to enjoy. That brings giving to a whole new level.

How easily would you hand over that coffee? That bag of groceries? Or, even your latest Nordstrom purchase? I couldn't do it either. At least, not yet. That is a level of sharing and compassion that I have failed to achieve thus far in my life. However, one needs things to which to aspire. I've already been enamored by the story of a woman in NYC who has opened homeless spaces of a different variety. Places where they have many options from which to select their free meal, showers to enjoy, access to Internet and job resources available, and a caring volunteer staff who want nothing more than to provide a place of comfort and rest in a dignified and safe setting for all. This woman spent her life's savings ensuring that the homeless of her neighborhood found meaningful resources in a humane setting. Her concept has been met with such great success and laud that she now enjoys the financial cushion of corporate sponsors as well. In giving away her money, time, and effort ... she finds the ultimate reward in spades. That is true generosity of heart.

Ironically, the very next Tuesday I encountered that same driver again. This time he was driving the 2nd cab I approached and I hopped right in upon his approval of my destination. It took me a minute to realize how familiar his minivan - not a usual style of taxi in D.C. - and he were to me but, once I did, I immediately told him he had taken me home the previous week. He glanced back at me, nodded, and thanked me for my generous tip while he looked me directly in the eye from his rearview mirror. I smiled and told him it was my pleasure. That was the breeziest six mile ride I have ever had out of the city. He commented again about the foolishness I regularly encounter outside the bar at late hours and graciously gave me his card; requesting a 45 minute warning if I find myself in need of a ride home again. This man is truly a kind soul. Mr. Alabi. I tucked away his card in my wallet and knew that I would be calling upon him one day soon.

This past Tuesday night I found myself waiting tables well into the night. At around 1:15am - 15 minutes prior to last call - it occurred to me to call Mr. Alabi and request a ride home. I retrieved his card from my wallet and took my cell phone into the bar kitchen. He answered on the third ring, I introduced myself and asked him if he remembered me, he told me he did, and confirmed he could be there in 30 minutes. He even said he would call again when he was outside the bar. This was a dream come true for a late night! At 1:42am I was handing the bar manager my cash and receipts, awaiting approval to go home, and my phone rang. It was Mr. Alabi; he was outside the bar and ready to take me home. I gushed to the manager about my driver friend and he reminisced about the trouble he had getting to the same location during the years he lived there too.

It was only after we were nearly to my street that Mr. Alabi told me he had come all the way from Chantilly, Virginia, after 1am on a weeknight, into the midst of Washington D.C., and on the way into downtown Silver Spring, Maryland just to take me home. Because he promised me that he would anytime he was working and able. And, because he remembered me. And, I think, because he's just generally the kind of person that makes you want to do the right thing and enjoy true generosity of heart ... as much as possible.

Guaranteed Happiness

2009-06-19T00:00:00.003-04:00

There are two things in this world that make me smile, every time I see them, regardless of my actual mood. They are:

Casey, and
street birds

Casey is probably the world's sweetest dog. Fortunately for me, he's not much of a barker, licker, or jumper. However, when he catches a glimpse of you and that giant tail starts going in circles like a helicopter propeller and his face breaks into an adorable toothy smile, your heart just melts. It is not uncommon for me to arrive home from work in a foul mood but Casey doesn't care about any of that stuff. He's just elated to see me again and his reliable reaction to my arrival home is a sure bet for turning my frown upside down. Similarly, when Casey recognizes that you're sad or upset his natural reaction is to stand in front of you and place his head in your lap. Anyone who tries to tell me that dogs don't understand or that they don't feel and express emotion can take a flying leap off the Bay Bridge. I know the truth. And, I know my dog has saved many a day from a gloomy conclusion.

Street birds. Could they BE any cuter? They're not concerned about their appearance like so many other flashy bird species. They're not above picking through the trash or braving the open streets (and crazy D.C. area drivers) for a bit of dinner. But my favorite thing about them, without question, is that they bathe in piles of loose dirt. Casey and I frequently pass by small groups of street birds rolling in the dirt, shaking their feathers off, gossiping, and just generally being as cute as possible. At first I didn't realize my involuntary reaction to this sight was to break into a huge, goofy grin. And, now, I just can't help myself. If I don't scare them away, I'll happily stand around and watch them enjoying themselves for a few minutes. And, generally speaking, I'm not a bird fan. Specifically, I believe that birds have no place in people's homes. So, who would have thought that such a non-descript bird would capture my heart in such a bizarre way? Adorable.

High-Speed Rumination

2009-06-09T00:00:00.002-04:00

I have observed that when two Metro trains pass each other on opposing tracks, catching a glimpse of the riders no more than 3 feet away is nearly impossible. I find this concept fascinating. I know they're sitting there and some of them might even be looking into my train as well. Yet, due to the combination of speed and proximity, it is as though a train full of empty seats passes by. I keep looking. Striving and straining, hoping for a clear line of sight on anyone. And, though I know it is highly unlikely, the possibility of sharing eye contact across train tracks keeps my eyes fixed upon the well-worn Metro window panes, watchful of passing souls.

I have holes in my head, therefore my brains must have leaked out.

2009-05-26T00:00:00.006-04:00

I work in an industry (Defense contracting) wherein conducting yourself in a certain manner is expected. That certain manner is that you dress appropriately, speak appropriately, and appear, in all manners, to generally be "appropriate". In most Defense contracting, security clearances rule. And, if you cannot obtain, or maintain, one then your value in this industry decreases drastically. All of this boring background to say that I increasingly deem myself "inappropriate" in the eyes of others for the work I perform. Though, I do not come to this conclusion by any justifiable means ... merely through the backwards glances and sneers that I experience on a regular basis due to my own personal choices.

I had worked for my company for three years before I pierced my face for the first time - my eyebrow, incidentally. I mean, my ears were pierced but there are so few females any more who do not have their ears pierced I almost feel silly mentioning it. Along with the feelings of my family members, something else I failed to take into consideration before getting stabbed was the reaction of my co-workers. Now, let me be clear, I don't think that anyone who is getting pierced, tattooed, or otherwise altered should take anyone or anything into consideration other than themselves and their ability to fund said modification. When I make the decision to undergo a piercing or inking, of any kind, the decision is just that ... mine. And, that my Mom might burst into tears when she sees me or that my boss might crook his eyebrow at me when he sees me crosses my mind, approximately, never.

That's not to say that I don't get some deviant jolly off of the odd looks people seem to think their faces disguise when they pass me in the hallways or on the streets. Hi people - much like women not being oblivious to men boring holes through various parts of their bodies with their eyes - I am equally not blind to you passing judgment on my choices as we cross paths on the Metro platform. I actually find it amusing that I perform the work I do - and, very well, I might add - with all of the body modifications that I have chosen to make. I enjoy the irony of the thought that just because someone sticks a needle into, or through, their skin that it somehow immediately, and permanently, alters their ability to function in the human race. I'm pretty sure I could walk and chew gum at the same time prior to body modification and I'm positive I still can now. People's perceptions and judgments are a constant source of fascination for me.

I might talk to you on the phone and provide answers to any variety of questions you have in an utterly professional manner. Yet, once we meet in person and you get an up-close-and-personal look at me, your opinion changes. It does; I watch it happen all over your face and in your body language. What is that about anyway? I'm not a stand-in. I'm the same person you just spoke to on the phone yesterday. However, if you chose to live you life laden down with judgments and opinions about others, whose choices and lifestyles have NO bearing on your own, that's your bed to lie in; not mine.

Yesterday, I had my second tragus (the little triangle portion of your ear that is attached to your face) pierced. That brings the grand total of piercings to 6 (including the typical ear lobes), all of which are on my face or ears. A few minutes ago, an investigator came into the office to review the files of one of my employees and I got the stare-down of a lifetime. Actually, the intensity with which he was scrutinizing my piercings made me a touch uncomfortable. He spent so much time focusing on the holes in my head that he probably did not even realize that my hair is a freakin' mess today (thank you, rain) and that I opted to wear jeans and a corporate-logo shirt to work so as not to ruin any of my nicer work clothes (thank you twice, rain). But all of this plays into my original point, if you don't conduct yourself in the manner already deemed appropriate by this industry then you are subject to the judging eyes of those you with whom you perform work. I responded, in turn, by killing him with kindness and flashing my pearly whites which, I am sure, threw him for a total loop. You mean I'm not some grumpy emo/goth chick who just happened to stumble across a good job?? Ugh ... give me a break.

So, what gives? Are we so unenlightened as a culture that we truly believe anyone with piercings or tattoos is bound (or doomed) to be some professional or social deviant? Is the concept of someone in a high-paying, corporate, government-contracting position WITH piercings and tattoos just too much for our feeble minds to comprehend? Do we, like my Mother, believe that these things cause people to take us less seriously or assume that we're less intelligent? I'm not sure what to think, honestly. I happen to know that my friends who are pierced and/or tattooed are some of the best and brightest among us. And, that's not to say that my friends who are not modified are any less intelligent or capable either. Furthermore, that's also not to say that the people with whom I am made to work are any great geniuses, body modification or not! The point is, holes in or ink on the body do not impact one's brain. Chances are, if you were an idiot to begin with you're going to remain one following your nipple piercing and vice versa. Ha ha!

I really do want your opinions though ... if you're reading this blog, sound in on the unjustified, and overly exaggerated, opinions of mainstream, corporate America. Or, just tell me that I am less intelligent and/or capable because of my choices. Just don't expect to not get an earful back. =)

What is with ...

2009-05-05T00:00:00.002-04:00

The teens/pre-teens who feel the need to scream, laugh at obnoxious levels, and generally make everyone feel uncomfortable on the Metro while they ride home from school? You're not fooling anyone. If your Mom was sitting there next to you, we all know you would be twiddling your thumbs and/or listening to your iPod like a well-behaved rider. I just want to know why they act the way they do. It is unbelievably disrespectful and makes them seem ignorant.
The blonde on the Beltway, drinking her venti Starbucks, and driving her pristine Ranger Rover Sport HSE? The whole concept is simultaneously stereotypical and jealousy-inducing. Not only do you possess the SUV I desire more than other - albeit in the most gay of all available colors: seafoam green (oh, excuse me, according to the Land Rover site it is actually called Lucerne Green Metallic ... whatever, I'm sticking to seafoam) - but could you be drinking a bigger, more expensive coffee? I can't even remember the last time I could afford a Starbucks. Ugh. Yeah, I'm jealous. What of it?
The rain? We somehow manage to survive the winter of wind, biting temperatures, and the smallest amount of precipitation just to be annoying and/or inconvenient and now it will not stop raining. I might even be okay with a good bit of rain if I was ever permitted to see the sun! This just proves that this area's weather patterns FAIL to keep me content. And warm.
Lame tattoos? I have heard/seen more terrible tattoo concepts in the last year than in all of my life combined. This is not fun and games, people. This is forever. You and your ink should share a bond that will stand the tests of time. People will challenge you for the rest of your life about why you chose that image, why you put it in that location, and how you will feel about all of it when you're 90 years old. If you're not prepared to answer those questions seriously then you're not prepared for permanently marking your skin either. "I'm going to get a tattoo of a banana on my shoulder." ... "Why?" ... "Well, because I like them!" Yeah, genius, I like spaghetti and meatballs too but I'm not going to have a bowl of it permanently emblazoned on my hip. Get a clue.

Alright. That's all I have the energy for at the moment. Rest assured, there are no fewer than one million other things I could choose to rant about at any given moment. Stay tuned!

Raising the Stakes

2009-04-09T00:00:00.003-04:00

Most of you know that more than a year ago I cut up all my credit cards and vowed to spend only cash for any, and all, of my expenses. As I continue on that path I can assure you it is NOT easy nor, particularly, fun. Though, I frequently find myself excited to pay bills. If only to watch such large sums of money quickly enter and exit my bank account and know the satisfaction of a few less dollars owed. I have to plot even the most mundane tasks - a haircut, a bag of dog food, or dinner out with a friend - weeks in advance to ensure the appropriate funds are available at just the right moment. And, I take extreme pleasure in paying for extravagant things like vacations, gasoline (ha!), and nights out with cash and knowing that a 27.99% APR won't be staring me in the face years down the road going "How does that trip to St. Thomas feel NOW?? Huh?!?"

I do a lot of complaining about work - most of it warranted - but, the truth of that matter is, I make good money. And, I have not just one but two jobs in this current economic state that leaves much to be desired. While I should just leave it at that, let me add that my one true wish is to get ahead. Sure, I can keep the bills paid and the collective tummies of me and my pets filled but, what I really desire is to move FORWARD in life and start getting some of the things done that truly excite me. I've stalled out at this point and it doesn't look like I'll get a jump start again for another two years at least. So, I just keep plugging away.

Recently, a group of co-workers and I have been pooling our funds and playing the Maryland Lottery. I've been told that "most" winners of lottery are groups and that was enough for me to ante up my $4 per week. We haven't won much to this point - just enough to buy a couple of extra tickets each time - but the possibility makes me think. Obviously, we'll have to distribute the winnings among the participants. And, the very first thing I would do with my share is pay off my debt (YAY!). I estimate I will have enough leftover to relocate myself to a more desirable location than the swamp/frozen tundra conundrum that is the Washington D.C. Metropolitan area. That's pretty much where the plan ends at this point as I have no real career plans other than to pursue the restaurant business with relentless aggression.

All of these internal machinations make me wonder: what would I do with unexpected wealth if I had already achieved all of my above-mentioned goals - except continuing to travel, which is not something to be achieved but endlessly pursued - and had the freedom to really, actually do what I want? This is something I have considered off and on for years, though typically only in the form of a pipe dream. Currently, there are three distinct concepts:

Sell everything. Move to Africa. Get involved in an animal rescue. Get involved in HIV/AIDS education. Just get involved. Live meagerly. Cherish serenity. Appreciate the world ... not the world according to the U.S.A.
Buy land - probably in Wyoming. Start a rescue organization, similar to two I have heard of, and been impacted by, in the past year. One takes in unwanted/abused/neglected domestic animals - many who are missing limbs - and provides all of their needs through a volunteer/donor organization. The other takes in unwanted/abused/neglected, primarily, farm animals and provides all of their needs through a volunteer/donor organization.
Sell everything. Travel. Return home for holidays. Be a citizen of the world.

There are some common themes there but each idea awakens a different part of my being. What is unavoidably clear is that none of these things involve sitting behind a desk, none of these things involve being a corporate/government drone, and certainly none of these things keep me trapped in the status quo that Americans so daftly promote.

There is a caveat at the bottom of the lottery ticket announcement each week that says "There is a requirement that when we win, we have to remain as [Name of Employer] employees for one year after we collect our winnings." I counter that with a big, fat "I didn't sign anything to that effect." In fact, if you blink, I am fairly certain you will miss my departure from this environment because I will make it so quickly. Until the happy day when our lottery tickets make us all a wealthier group, I will continue daydreaming about my hopes and goals. I have said all along, in this debt reduction process, that I will be "Debt Free in 2011!" Here's hoping that 2011 also brings me a new location, a chance to start getting ahead, and a path on which to nurture those things that really keep my mind and heart churning.

Playing Hide-and-Seek with Jesus

2009-03-30T00:00:00.005-04:00

I'm perplexed by the concept of "finding Jesus". Admittedly, I'm not the most religious person I know ... far from it, actually. Several years ago, I announced at the family dinner table that I was confused about my Catholic upbringing, and subsequent attendance at church nearly every Sunday for 20-something years, and I planned to "take a break". I haven't been back in all these years except to appease my mother on Christmas and Easter, much to my dismay and discomfort. And, to be perfectly honest, I haven't spent a great deal of time addressing my confusion either. Rather, I find myself in a constant state of shock and awe about religion, of all varieties, and their tactics.

Sitting at work, I heard a snippet of an upcoming interview on NPR with a pastor whose congregation is offering resume/interview/job search help to newly unemployed people, even non-members. The hope being that they are successful in their aid and those in need secure new places in the workforce. The potential bonus effect being that they may "stay a while and find Jesus." Being keen to the true driving force behind most churches, I hear something like that and think "what a load of crap." I'm not fooled. I know that, for most churches, the financial bottom line is almost always the actual bottom line and one of the main things an increased congregation brings is in an increase on the balance sheet.

I witnessed this phenomenon every time I set foot in the Catholic church of my upbringing. Not a bulletin was published without the contributions of the past week emblazoned in bold ink, not a Sunday passed that the collection tray didn't snake its way through the pews, and not a year passed that we weren't subject to the Cardinal's/Bishop's appeal for additional funds toward some just cause or another. Please don't misunderstand - for the most part, the charities affiliated with the churches are overwhelmingly deserving of our contributions - but the methods of obtaining that additional funding, not to mention the operating funds of each church itself, leaves much to be desired. Do intelligent, church-going folk need to be reminded ad nauseum how much their contributions are desired? Do you suppose that any of us have forgotten, for one second, how the collection of money is an integral part of the church service? Do you truly believe that constant haranguing for donations causes people to put that additional $5 in the envelope? I would submit that, particularly in a tight economy, people give what they can afford, feel is reasonable, and know is acceptable to their bottom line. Let me be a little more specific. When I am constantly shuffling bills around and trying to decide which one gets paid a few days late each month, I am not in any kind of hurry to write a check to an organization that regularly collects hundreds of thousands of dollars PER WEEK. Of course not all congregations are as well off, but I can really only speak about the one with which I'm familiar. And, please don't even get me started about the abuse of church funds.

For argument's sake, let us suppose this pastor who will be interviewed on NPR is genuine about wanting more people to find Jesus and stay a while with his congregation. Okay. But, since when are we all on a hunt for Jesus? I know, for a fact, he's not hanging out in some elusive hide-and-go-seek spot, giggling away, while we all get so close to finding him that we feel foolish when we ultimately uncover his location. It's very simple, really. If you want Jesus in your life, then you go to a church of some sort or another and participate to your heart's desire. Why is it that the non-religiously-affiliated among us always fall into the category of being on the verge of revelation? "Oh, if only she would open her heart to Jesus then all would be right in her world." Really? Does Jesus have a checkbook? Is he going to lend me a hand with keeping myself and my pets fed, my rent paid, and my bill collectors at bay? Here's a revelation for you, you proselytizing bunch, maybe I have made a conscious decision to not have Jesus in my life. Maybe I have a different set of beliefs from you and I somehow manage without him. Maybe, if I've lost my job and have nowhere else to turn, I'll come by for some resume advice and not stay a while and find Jesus. Maybe I will just take advantage of the services you're offering and then carry on with my life as it was before. Maybe you shouldn't offer your services with a hopeful caveat. I don't recall, from my limited Bible knowledge, Jesus ever offering his services with a caveat ... hopeful or actual.

And, why is it that the most down-trodden and disadvantaged among us - just out of a job, just out of jail, just divorced, just recovered from a debilitating illness, etc ... - are the ones so routinely finding Jesus? My life is far from perfect but I am a firm believer in logic and reason. Logic and reason tell me that a Biblical character and my subsequent devotion to him is not going to magically solve my problems ... any more than devotion to Harry Potter or Scarlett O'Hara would. Logic and reason tell me that people who believe that might have a few screws loose. Life is what you make of it, folks. If you work hard, life works hard for you. If you slack off, you can expect things to fall apart. It's not easy, nor foolproof, but as a general rule you get out of life what you put in. I find it sneaky and backwards of ministers, pastors, congregations, and religions to suggest that "all you need is Jesus." It's just not true. Jesus does not put food in your mouth, pay the bills, take care of the kids, or mow the lawn. However, your devotion to him and the church that so graciously brought him into your purview will reap the benefits of your undying belief in the form of cash or check.

This is only the tip of the iceberg in my ongoing confusion with all things religious. I estimate I could pound out another 20+ blogs on any variety of my religious frustrations. However, even in a non-religious sense, I wish that more people would offer their assistance to others and expect nothing in return. No check, no return-favors, no thanks even. I'm a fan of the guy who slips the homeless woman he sees every morning $20 once a week and quietly walks on. I'm a fan of the woman who picks up the trash she sees on her street every day as she walks her dog. And, if I came to you for support in my career - a lead, a resume edit, or interview practice - I would appreciate it if you didn't slip your beliefs into our conversation and ask me to stay a while and find Jesus. Do what you do for the sake of doing it, and please do not expect anything in return. Only then do you show the true goodness of your heart, soul, and personal belief system. And, religion never need come into play.

Roadtrippin' with my two favorite allies ...

2009-03-25T00:00:00.004-04:00

We've all been there. You're driving along, minding your own business, and you get hit by some dim bulb who was too distracted by his venti half-skim mocha java black bean burrito latte with extra whip to check his windows and/or mirrors for ... you! There's nothing quite like an auto accident. You're hit, you're pissed, your car is hurting, and you know this is going to throw a serious wrench into any plans you had for the next few weeks.

My truck suffered it's first actual accident a few weeks ago. No, not cutting a reverse maneuver too close and grazing a chain-link fence with the corner of my bumper. No, not getting "persuaded" into the next lane by an 18-wheeler on the Beltway while your heart races and the repeated thud of his trailer against your side view mirror makes you want to puke. An actual, honest-to-goodness, no-fault (of my own) accident. It was Sunday and, per usual, I was making my way to my parent's house to do some laundry, some napping, and plenty of eating. Casey was safely tucked in the back seat, the radio was tuned to 100.3, the sun was shining, and most everything was right in the world in that moment. BAM!

The driveway of my apartment complex is shaped like a "U". I had left my parking spot in the back of the building and proceeded to the front of my building down the cross-bar portion of said "U" when, suddenly, a neighbor of mine threw his car in reverse and stepped on the gas without looking. Which, ultimately, sent his Geo Tracker's spare tire into a close personal encounter with my truck's passenger side bumper (cracked), fender (scratched and dented), side view mirror (rendered completely useless and hanging by a thread), and more. Pissed. Casey and I were fine but as I got out of the truck and walked around the other side to assess the damage, my blood pressure went through the roof. I wonder if, besides the accident, it had anything to do with the fact that my darling neighbor never even uttered so much as a "sorry" to me. Super pissed. Meanwhile, the point of impact on their car was such that it had no damage whatsoever. Go figure.

We exchanged information, after he ran to his apartment to retrieve his driver's license; it's really a shame this accident didn't occur on the streets where the police could have punished him for that adorable violation. Eventually, I carried on with my Sunday as originally planned. Though, sending my Dad out to the truck with a roll of duct tape and instructions to "make the side view mirror stop flapping in the wind" was definitely not what I had in mind. Not to mention the charming, redneck-ish effect the tape had on the aesthetics of the truck.

The next morning I called the insurance company and started the claim process. Much to my delight, the customer service agent I dealt with was an absolute doll and we shared many laughs during our conversation. Not the least of which was when she offered me the choices of Hertz and Enterprise for my rental car options saying, "... and, if you happen to be in need of it, Enterprise is in the business of picking you up!" I couldn't help myself; I giggled and she did too. I even called her a dork. In one fells swoop I was hooked up with a claim, a rental car, an auto body shop, and the name and contact information for my adjuster. So far, so good.

I dropped the truck off the very next morning, retrieved my rental car (which was less than satisfactory, I must say, but an entirely different rant altogether), and left my truck in the capable hands of Randy and his team. And, about eight days later, my truck was repaired (to the tune of $2,000.00+) and ready to get back on the road. By happenstance, the damage I mentioned previously from my run-ins with a chain-link fence and an 18-wheeler, respectively, was all part of what was included in this claim. Dumb luck. But, dumb luck that lead me to pick up a 2006 truck that looked as though it was just being driven off the dealer's lot for the first time. YAY!

While accidents are a pain in the ass to deal with, usually the part where you get your vehicle back and return to normalcy is well worth any pain and suffering you might have endured. Assuming, of course, that you didn't actually incur any pain or suffering as a result of the accident itself.

All of this to say that, since the truck is back and looking better than ever, I think I'll designate this a Roadtrippin' Saturday and get the hell out of dodge. Casey and I can't wait to see which direction the truck takes off in and where we end up. I'm thinking the beach ... somewhere. Catch y'all on the flip side!

Love in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

2009-03-16T00:00:00.003-04:00

What is it about alcohol that induces amorous sentiment? I've been working at the bar for nearly a year now and I can't even count the number of times some half-drowned man has told me he "loves" me. I understand the whole "truth serum" aspect but I viewed that as something more common to people who actually know one another or who already have some type of history or another. I've been plenty sauced in my days and I just don't ever recall (or recall being told) that I expressed such a thing to a complete stranger.

I know I'm friendly, positive, and charming. Hello ... I work for tips. =) If I threw your drinks down on the table, grunted something unintelligible to you, and walked away I would hardly find this job as alluring as I do. Primarily because I would be appropriately rewarded, or punished as it were, for my level of service. However, being a good server and ensuring that you want for nothing while you're at one of my tables hardly makes me a candidate for your undying love, in my opinion.

So, what is the motivation guys? Are you lonely? Lonely enough that your four Bud Lights have put you in a state of leeching yourself to the first woman you see? Maybe you're just drunk? Drunk enough to think that your lame alcohol-induced comments will what ... cause me to spontaneously lose my bottom layers and take you right there on the table? Hahaha ... wow. Has this worked for you before and you deemed it worthy of another "college try"? Do you simply NOT know what you're saying or that I am, in fact, actually listening to you - as is my job and my personal habit (I know, shocking)? Do I appear to you as the type of woman who would fall for such a thing?

Whatever it is, let me submit that the object of your affections might be more amenable to your advances were she not one of five sober people in the entire bar. Or, if you were good looking. Or, if you were in my general age range. Or, if when I said that couldn't be true and I didn't believe you that you laughed and started making out with the girl sitting to your immediate right.

This sometimes-endearing, mostly-annoying bar habit never ceases to amaze me. It always embarrasses me, usually makes me laugh, and never impresses me. Friends, do your friends a favor, do not allow them to drink and profess.

Things that make you go hmmm.

2009-03-12T00:00:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, as I made my way to the Metro station, I came across an older man who was dressed in nothing more than a button-down shirt, boat shoes, and boxer shorts. Strange, yes. Stranger still was that his boxer shorts were pulled up to his armpits and, I just knew, left us all dangerously close to exposure. His mop of graying hair, thick eyeglasses, newspaper tucked under the arm, and general disposition to appear as though paying attention to nothing and something all at once served as the whipped cream and cherry on this visual sundae. We quickly passed each other and I just had to shake my head and chuckle.

I wonder what it feels like when you lose your ability to reason?

Still crazy after all these years ...

2009-03-11T00:00:00.003-04:00

I was fortunate enough to see Fleetwood Mac at the Verizon Center last night with some very good friends. Fleetwood is a band that I recall hearing from my very earliest days. My parent's taste in music has always been a little awkward but introducing the family to the theatre that is Fleetwood Mac is a solid win in my book. The show was fantastic.

We started off in Section 429 with a great view over the right shoulder of the band. Haha. The best part of that view was the fact I could see the entire audience reacting to the show. The sound was absolutely terrible in that location but I was prepared to deal with it because ... hey, I'm there with friends, it's Fleetwood Mac, and the seats didn't cost us an arm and a leg. After about the fourth song the "ticket Nazi", who had so voraciously been ensuring everyone was seated in their exact proper location, started talking to the concert goers in the row directly in front of us. People started leaving. We were a little confused until we realized we were all being given tickets to a significantly better seat ... for FREE! Score.

We landed in Section 226 - an improvement in level, seat location, and sound quality. Now, instead of peering into the audience from the back corner of the venue, we were solidly next to the band with a great view of the whole stage AND the entire audience. We estimated these seats would have cost us an additional $30 per ticket. I found it so nice of the Verizon Center to move entire sections of people - on both sides of the venue - to better seats. Most impressive. With our new seats came new crowd characters to keep us entertained. There was the absolutely precious 80's-clad couple in front of us - replete with skinny jeans, Chuck Taylors, fedoras, leather cuffs, jeans jackets, and skinny ties. We couldn't get enough of them. And, there was the woman two rows in front of us who was definitely enjoying an entirely different kind of experience than the rest of us. Donning a broom skirt, t-shirt, and rainbow-striped/sparkly wrap; she spun, swooped, swayed, and prayed (?) her way through the show. Whatever she had, I'll take two. Hahaha.

The band sounded great. Lindsey Buckingham is an absolute mad man on stage. He had several guitar solos that went on and on and were so intricate and exciting that they kept the crowd on their feet. Mick Fleetwood makes some of the most amazing facial expressions I've ever seen - and I'm not half bad in that realm either. The two of them worked themselves into an absolute sweat in no time at all. John McVie is steady and silent in his own little corner. A stark contrast to the other members who cannot seem to get enough of each other, the moment, and the crowd. Stevie Nicks was, of course, in great voice. I don't think she has changed at all over the years - we even wondered if she'd ever cut her hair! Haha. Her many outfit changes, all with coordinating capes or wraps, were fun. Although, she looked like she couldn't wait to get off her five inch heels by the end of it all.

Early on, Lindsey shared with us that the band had decided not to rehearse for this particular tour and that the play list was selected from among their own personal favorites. I think it paid off. They sounded fresh and relaxed throughout. I don't think anyone missed out on hearing their favorite Fleetwood song either. Stevie dedicated "Landslide" to the U.S. military this time around instead of the standard to her Daddy. The crowd really appreciated that gesture. The band didn't do a lot of talking, which I appreciated. I find events that turn into a political or social soap box, of sorts, irritating. I was a little disappointed by "Silver Springs" closing out the evening, being my least favorite Fleetwood song ever, but I am trying to move past it and not let it taint my ultimate impression of the evening. It was a tremendous show that I'm glad didn't pass me by. I have a feeling Fleetwood Mac will keep rocking out their fan-favorite tunes for many more years to come.

Where's Darwin When You Need Him?

2008-12-12T00:00:00.003-05:00

I want to go on record as saying that I am against bailouts. I don't care if they're for banks, automakers, or streetwalkers. This is a free market. You either survive or not. The argument that the collapse of the "big three" automakers would detrimentally impact the economy is laughable. The Bush government just spent the last few years denying we were in a recession. And, NOW you want to do something about it? Give me a break.

How do you think these bailouts make the millions of small businesses that have failed over the years feel? No, little man, we will not help you though you are the backbone of our economy. I will only help Freddie, Fannie, Chrysler, GM, and Ford. They are the ones who make (some) politicians who they are! What ever would we do without them?

How do you think these bailouts make the millions of people who struggle to keep their families fed and the bill collectors at bay feel? No, little man that funds all these bailouts with your tax money, I will not help you. Ever. For any reason. And, to add injury to insult, I will assure and reassure you that you'll get "paid back" for these bailouts you're providing. Well, government, you know where to find me (if you're not sure just check with the IRS because they definitely do) ... I'm ready and waiting. I know. Check's in the mail, right?

Businesses are greedy. That is the very nature of business. If they can assign loans to unworthy candidates for houses they can't afford and get away with it, they will. They're hoping you'll default on your loan and they'll get all the money back right away anyway. If they can make sub-par cars and sell them at astronomical costs to the American public, they will. They're banking on the fact we're a driving people, we'll always need our cars, and some of us will buy American simply because we think we're supposed to, regardless of the quality of said vehicle. And, you can bet your life on the fact that, if bad loans and shitty cars sell, the whole management structure of the offending businesses will realize outrageous profits, salaries, and bonuses to line their pockets with. Lucky them. I'm still waiting on my check ...

I am for Darwin. If you set up a business within the American economy and you can't make it? Too bad. Nice try. Try again some other time. Just as I do not believe anyone else should be responsible for my debt, as I created it; I believe that I should not be responsible for anyone else's debt whether it's yours, Fannie's, or GM's. I didn't create your problems, Freddie and Ford, and I will not help you fix them either.

I'm pleased Congress didn't approve the automaker bailout. I'm displeased the President is considering using a reserve fund to avoid these automakers filing for bankruptcy. I adore the official comment from the President's office that he wishes for the economy to naturally decide the fate of the automakers BUT, under the current circumstances, it could result in a catastrophic collapse of the economy so he's willing to spend the money to save them. Um. Either you believe in free markets and the Darwinism of business or ... oh, right ... you don't.

Please don't insult my intelligence by trying to make me believe you care about the economy now, at the eleventh hour of your term. You spent the better part of your second term denying what all of us real people with real bills and real problems already knew. Your attempts to make up for it now only make you look more the fool than you already do. Imagine that! I have this strange feeling, though, that no matter what I write here or how I feel the President will do whatever his little heart desires. As he has proven, time and again.

I'm for Darwin. And, the success of the little guy. Screw you and your bailouts. Spend your money on something useful ... you know like feeding and sheltering the millions of poor in our country, educating our children, repairing from natural disasters, and making sure our bridges don't collapse. Let business be responsible for itself. They made their beds, now they should lay in them.

Points of (non) Interest

2008-11-25T00:00:00.003-05:00

I'm so proud of us. We elected the right person for the job and he's already hard at work making sure we know we can rely on him to do what is right. I'm looking forward to experiencing his Inauguration, very much.
I am endlessly unhappy at work. I dream of the day I have the capital to walk away and never look back.
The cold is so brutal. It's not even, officially, winter yet and my hats.gloves.scarfs are already getting full-time use.
Relationships are so complicated. I wish we could all say what we mean to each other, mean what we say to each other, and not tell someone else something different. Romantic or platonic, we all play these wickedly intricate games with one another. It makes me sad. It creates confusion for all involved. And, we're all seeking an explanation for it but no one seems to have the right answers. As if life isn't hard enough ...
I detest feeling uncomfortable. I don't want to be watched.observed by anyone. I don't want to be made to feel as though I have to keep tabs on anyone, just in case. And, I don't want to know that someone is lying to my face but not have the guts to tell them. There is nothing worse than that feeling.
This blog started out happy.positive and has fallen into a downward spiral. Quite indicative of my mood, I'd say. *sigh* I always try to start the day off on the right foot but my internal machinations always get the best of me. Oh well.

Not happy. Not happy, at all.

2008-10-15T00:00:00.003-04:00

About ...

Life
Love
Weather
Work
Work
Work
Work
Uh, did I mention ... work???
This headache
Money

Need I go on? I can't even go on vacation without any.all of these things rearing their ugly heads. Seriously. When do I get my break? When does my life get easy? Everyone else gets a piece.peace. Why not me? I could write things here that would probably scare most of you but I guess I'll just keep them to myself, per usual, and go about my business of mending everyone else's worlds while I pretend that mine is fuckin' peachy. Oh, glorious depression.

The kitten: Gracie.

2008-10-06T00:00:00.004-04:00

My Mom's kitten is on her second extended stay at my house. The first time, about a month ago, she was far less interested in the world around her and much more interested in keeping Casey's jaws from clamping around her head. Older now, she jumps on.in.over.under.around.behind everything. And, I find it a source of frustration.

I am dog person. There is a reason why cats do not live in my house. The reason has little to do with cats, in general, and everything to do with an extreme aversion to litter boxes. Add in a moderately sized apartment and a gigantically sized dog and, suddenly, you have a recipe for disaster. The recipe includes the litter box, its contents, and the mixing bowl that is my dog's mouth. Enough said.

Fortunately for me, the dog seems to have, somehow, outgrown his fondness for litter batter and our lives together have been much calmer since. Or, so it seems on the surface. I previously mentioned Gracie's lack of interest in the world around her and, I can assure you, her demeanor about all things new and exciting is now all energy, all the time.

Gracie discovered, on one of her first nights in the house, two weeks ago that she could run a L-shaped path from one bedroom window to another and straight across the head of my bed (and pillows) onto the bedside table and back. And, she just loves to do so in the middle of the night, usually just about the time my eyes have first closed. To her credit, she's astonishingly quick and agile. She breaks free of my clutches nearly every time. =) Similarly, if you are blocking Gracie's intended path she makes no bones about running right over, and on, your face, or whatever other body part may be in the way.

Gracie will steal, and possibly destroy, anything that happens to be lying around. Potpourri. Hair ties. Shoelaces. Shirts. Plants. Blankets. And, she loves to swat, and hiss, at the dog. At his tail. At his face. At his torso. For no apparent reason, Gracie just loves the attempted drive-bys. Casey never chases her and has only barked at her a few times; he's so patient.

Gracie has her adorable qualities too. She meows and dances around when I get home. She'll jump into your arms if you pat your chest and tell her to c'mon. She loves to play. With her toilet paper tube, stuffed kitty with a bell, catnip ring, peacock feather, bouncy mouse, catnip ball, and anything else she deems a toy. I discovered that when she sits on the back of the couch, if I wiggle my fingers that are hidden under the throw pillow, she will dive right off the couch, head-first, straight into the pillow. She stays there for a minute until she falls over or gets uncomfortable and then jumps back onto the couch to go at it again. She really is a trip.

Gracie was having a particularly naughty time of it both last night and this morning. She recently discovered Oskar, my red-eared slider, and the fact she can lie on top of the tank on the grate, which is mostly to keep him safe from himself but serves a dual purpose in this particular scenario. I had definitely had enough of her running.jumping.knocking into things for one morning and had chased her down, hissed her name, and clapped my hands enough times to worry the neighbors about my sanity (not like they're valid judges of that but I digress ... ).

I put the finishing touches on my hair and walked into the living room to feed Oskar. Gracie was there but I made her scram and I opened the lid to feed the turtle. Before I even knew what was happening, the cat was in the tank clawing to get out and Oskar was looking at me as if there was certain death ahead of him. I grabbed Gracie by the scruff of her neck and pulled her out of the tank. I couldn't help but laugh and curse at the same time. How stupid, and obnoxious, but still so damn funny. I took a little pleasure in her brief discomfort. We got her all dried off and tucked away in my bedroom and I was back on track to work in no time.

Sadly, Gracie will be leaving the house on Friday. I travel this weekend to visit the Canadian contingent - for those of you who may not know, they are my sister, brother-in-law, and twin nieces. Casey and I will make the big trek and leave Oskar behind in the care of a friend. And, lucky for Gracie her Mom and Dad are returning from Europe this weekend too. It's been a fun visit but all it really reminds me is that I'm a dog person. I hate litter boxes. And, a five pound kitten has managed to terrorize a 100-something-pound girlie, a 100-pound dog, and a turtle with the will to bite in just three short weeks. We'll never be the same again. =)

Mission: Accomplished.

2008-09-18T03:00:00.001-04:00

Today I bid my final adieu to MySpace. It's been a great four (plus) years but not that great. LOL! I decided, some time ago, that with my new-found fondness for Facebook my interest in all things MySpace have waned drastically. No big deal. Anyone I "knew" on MySpace I now know how to find elsewhere. And, it will be a relief to get away from the constant whoring that comes with that site.

YAY!

I will blogging here, from now on ... obviously.

I'll be wearing a smile on my face all day.

2008-06-04T03:00:00.000-04:00

Barack Obama is just too cool for school. Congratulations and the very best of luck to him as he continues down the campaign trail. YAYAY!

We CAN do it ... !

Friendly Advice

2008-05-27T03:00:00.000-04:00

Best to not assume that everyone who has ever had access to your phone number still has it programmed in their phone.

Best to not assume that sending a text message, even an apology (of sorts), is appropriate at 12:54am on a school night.

That is all. Carry on.

I am alone.

2008-03-13T03:00:00.000-04:00

I am alone. You are too. We all are.

This concept struck me while channel surfing last night (though, I use the term "surfing" lightly since five channels hardly constitute the "big wave"). I found myself captivated by the exceedingly uncomfortable program "The Moment of Truth". If you haven’t seen it or heard of it already, the premise is this: a contestant and his friends/family members provide information about the contestant’s life, contestant submits to a polygraph examination, contestant answers some of the same polygraph questions on TV in front of the world, and contestant gets labeled a gigantic jerk. Yes, there is money involved and a few other unimportant aspects that I left out. My point remains the same: is there anyone left on this planet who does not lie?

Last night the contestant admitted to having sex with the wife of one of his friends; in front of his wife, his mother, and two of his wife’s siblings. Not to mention the millions of other people potentially watching the program on TV - yanno, like his friend and his friend’s wife. I can think of, literally, thousands of other ways to break news like that to my loved ones. It just shows that respect, common decency, and honesty are all character traits of the past or of Disney movies. I cannot determine if honesty is just some whimsical, fantasy concept that people like to talk about but never actually expect to be privy to or what.

Sure, some of us only tell "little white lies". ("No, honey, those pants do not make your ass resemble the side of an ocean liner.") While still others of us practically make life’s work of weaving our way in and out of the intricate details we have so carefully laid out to protect our loved ones from the horrid truth that is us. And, then there are those of us who fail to be truthful by omission of information. I certainly am no advocate of "laying all your cards on the table" but hiding something from someone by simply not bringing it up or failing to mention it is no better than outright lying. Don’t sit there and think "What?! I don’t LIE!" because you do. You have lied at work, or to realize some benefit (like money or services at no charge), or to your parents, or to your significant other, or to someone you just met. I am no saint. I can lie my way out of situations with the best of them. I have in the past and I, probably, will in the future. It is sad and true.

At what point do we stop and think about what causes us to lie in the first place? I have no interest in surrounding myself with people who lie to me. I certainly have no interest in entering into a commitment of any sort with someone who will lie to me. Yet, it became clear as day last night that I probably do not know a single person who hasn’t lied to me at some point or another, regardless of the "size" of the lie. And, how many of my friends and acquaintances have I lied to? Probably all of you, if I had to guess.

So as I sat there watching the destruction of a marriage unfold in front of me on television, of all places; I began to ponder why I’m such a big, fat liar. And here is what I came up with:

The raw reality of the truth is disgusting. I, more often than not, will lie about reality to keep myself from appearing badly to you. ("Oh, God, I wouldn’t want him.her.it to think x.y.z about me because that would be a.b.c.") The self is a very fragile, delicate being no matter what package it is wrapped in. It has a very sensitive nature that only wants to be appreciated, not questioned or discarded. And, because of all of this, the self will do anything to protect itself in the eyes of those it would like to, ultimately, please. Even lie.

If I’m lying to you about myself and you’re lying to me about yourself then who does that leave to count on, to trust, to rely on, and to share with? If I use myself as the gauge against which all other’s honesty is measured then I have no reason to believe a single word that has ever flowed from your brain to your mouth to my ears to my brain. This is a most disheartening and shocking revelation. And, this is why I am alone, why you are too, and why we all are when it comes right down to it and the truth is on the line. You are the only person you can completely count on because you are the only one who knows the truth, the whole truth, about yourself.

I am alone. I have just admitted to a major flaw in my character. Is it fatal? It may be ... but admission and acknowledgment are the paths to peace of mind.

Something fun ...

2008-02-29T03:00:00.000-05:00

Last week I was notified that a photograph I took in a Chicago restaurant, South Water Kitchen, during the infamous Cross Country Road Trip last summer, was under consideration for inclusion in the fourth edition of the Schmap Chicago Guide. All I had done was use Flickr to post my photos to share with all of you during the course of the trip. Today I found out my photograph has been chosen! It's certainly not the best picture I've ever taken but it feels good to be selected for something I was not actively pursuing. What a pleasant surprise.

Scroll to South Water Kitchen

Simplistic Solitude

2008-01-30T03:00:00.000-05:00

I indulged in a skin-tingling hot, soft-smelling bath tonight. Now I'm sitting back in my pajamas with a short, chilled glass of Johnnie Walker Black. I'm catching up with a few things and listening to my dog snore quietly as he's sprawled out beside me. Oh, did I mention the soothing sounds of the Thelonious Monk Quartet coming from my speakers? Mmmmm.

Heaven.

That is all. Carry on.

I hate war.

2008-01-11T03:00:00.000-05:00

"I have seen war. I have seen war on land and sea. I have seen blood running from the wounded. I have seen men coughing out their gassed lungs. I have seen the dead in the mud. I have seen cities destroyed. I have seen 200 limping, exhausted men come out of line—the survivors of a regiment of 1,000 that went forward 48 hours before. I have seen children starving. I have seen the agony of mothers and wives. I hate war." ~ Franklin D. Roosevelt (1936)

T.T.O. -

Know that you are in my heart and thoughts. I may detest the reasons why you are leaving us but I fully support you (and those like you) and await your safe return to your family and friends. We will all be seeing you again soon.

With Much Love,

M.R.P.

Changes ... they're coming.

2007-12-03T03:00:00.000-05:00

I'm not big on the whole New Year's Resolution deal but it has become blatantly clear to me that, unless I make some changes, I am going to find myself in a "heap of trouble" (as my Dad likes to say). I know I have threatened similar things in the past but, this time, there is no putting it off, waiting it out, or any other methods of delay. The following things will occur before the first of the year:

I will not have a single credit card (except a gas card) to my name.
The only money available to me will be any superfluous cash I realize from a paycheck once I pay my bills. That cash will go first to the upkeep of my dog, the upkeep of my car, and any personal items I may require (food, toiletries, and other necessary things). Only then will I be able to make plans to spend money on ANYTHING else (nights out, dinners out, drinks, drugs, hookers, etc... ).
I will NOT succumb to guilt trips of any kind. If I don't have the money, the answer is no. If you offer to pay for me, the answer is no. If I say no, please know that I mean it and don't start whining and crying and pissing and moaning. It's not because I don't like you anymore (I do, I love you), it's because I have things I want to accomplish in short order and this is the only way I can do it.
I will do whatever I can to be social, see people, spend time, and maintain relationships but PLEASE know that I, the dog, and the conservation of my funds come first - in every situation that I'm considering. Every.Single.One. Don't take it personally, just take it.

I appreciate, in advance, your understanding of my plight and support of my goals. Hopefully, it will all pay off for all of us within a year's time. Keep your fingers crossed for me. Thanks. *curtsy*

What dreams may come ...

2007-11-06T03:00:00.000-05:00

Anyone who has read my blog more than a few times probably knows that my dreams are not memorable. Or, rather, my memory refuses to accept my dreams into it's cache. For someone who thinks about things as deeply and feels about things as severely as I do, I have always found that to be a strange phenomenon. There have been times I have desperately wished to remember what my mind serves to me in the midst of a deep sleep ... recently my wishes have been granted and now I only wish that my dreams escape me once more and never return to be considered again.

Dream One - This dream occurred during the course of my trip to Canada. I don't know if it was the food, the alcohol, the extremely dark room which I inhabited while I was there or what but ... (all names, identities, and specifics have been kept secret for my sanity and my sanity alone)

A friend of mine was having a party. This party was, curiously, occurring at an apartment that belonged to him even though this friend of mine is, in reality, the owner of a rather large home on a rather large plot of land. At this party were a number of his friends - both male and female - and myself. Though, oddly, neither his wife nor any of my friends were in attendance at said party. Nonetheless, I showed up and copious amounts of alcohol were consumed. The next thing I remember, in my dream, is waking up the next morning to an absolutely destroyed apartment. Everyone was passed out and almost everyone was in some state of nudity. In a panic, I threw on whatever clothes were nearby and sprinted from the apartment to where, I thought, my car was located. I ran around and around the apartment complex only to never actually find my car and, then, only to realize that I was missing my purse and my keys. I ran back to the apartment but only became more and more turned around in the process. Eventually I made my way back to the door of the right apartment. Upon approaching it I could hear people laughing. I opened the door and walked in, only to discover that all of his friends were watching a video of the previous evening's events. These events included, but were not limited to: sex, drugs, and alcohol. (I will not refer to the details for, even now, they cause me to shudder.) As I stood in the doorway and watched what they also watched everyone turned, saw me, and the laughter quickly became focused directly on me and what I had done. And what a fool I had made of myself, among other things. I ran and ran and ran and cried and ran and ran and ran and screamed and ran and ran and ran ...

Dream Two - This dream occurred the second night I was home from my trip to Canada. I have no idea what caused it. The circumstances, food and beverage consumed, were no different than any other night of any other week in any other year of the last ten years of my life. The dream just came, out of nowhere, and horrified me.

The only thing I remember is my dog, Casey, turning his face to look at me from across a large room. When he turned, he looked at me with the same sincere, loving, quizzical eyes he always does ... only ... he was bloody from the tip of his head to the end of his paw, and one ear and half his head was missing. I screamed.

For the first time in my life, I woke myself from a deep sleep with only the fearful scream of a nightmare. I scared myself so badly that I sat bolt upright in bed and frantically scanned the room for Casey, who was, equally as frantically, eyeing me and wondering what in the world was going on that caused me to scream in such utter terror.

Obviously this is not a trend I would like to see continue. Imagine my dread, when my MySpace tarot card (... don't start ... it's something I happen to look at on the Horoscope page when I'm bored) today read "May your dreams be potent." For sanity's sake, I most certainly hope not.

I ♥ NPR

2007-10-16T03:00:00.000-04:00

I cannot even fathom how much I have learned since I started listening to NPR (FM 88.5, for interested parties) in the background of my workday. I think they do a great job of presenting both sides of the story and focusing on things that other news agencies ignore or merely graze. One thing is certain though (and, not that I didn't already know this but, because they focus a lot on detail and providing numbers, figures, etc ..., it has migrated closer to the front of my mind):

The U.S. Government spends an inordinate amount of money helping "others" for any number of reasons; if only they were so concerned about helping their own. I'm talking poverty, hunger, education, healthcare, rebuilding New Orleans and surrounding areas, ensuring our bridges and roads are secured, national debt, on and on and on and on. It's sad, really. Sad because our Government makes a big show of providing for their own but when people really need support they will only receive it if they fall within specific parameters, according to legislation. And that, my friends, is a load of crap.

What am I worried about though? With a five-year, $86 billion budget for NASA and lofty visions of returning to the moon (hello ... I thought we were good there already?!?) and exploring Mars, soon I will not have to worry my pretty little head about who/what our collective finances are going toward on Earth. As Dave Chappelle/Black Bush says, "Mars, bitches! United States of Space!" Since it has already been established that human life cannot be sustained on Mars, would anyone care to explain to me the logical benefits of exploring it further? Curiosity is not a valid reason. This is billions of dollars, people.

I wonder what legislators think as they approve our budget every year and, literally, watch billions of dollars flow out of this country only to aid others ... you know ... people who do not pay taxes, people who we expect nothing in return from, people who will probably never contribute to American society ... those people. I wonder what the NASA budget could buy the people of this country over the span of five years? Yanno ... besides rovers, rockets, fuel, astronauts, satellites, and equipment.

I'd rather not remember my high school years but ...

2007-10-02T03:00:00.000-04:00

... I will never be able to forget what happened to one of my classmates. I had already started classes as a freshman at Clemson University when I received a package of news clippings from my parents, which detailed the horror of Freddy Tello's death. The actions of one of the perpetrators and his family are heinous and unforgivable. No one deserves to suffer like Freddy did, regardless of any questionable judgment or poor behavior on his part; no one.

A Murder's Long Shadow

It seems the direct link may not be functioning properly. If you're interested in reading the article it can be found online at www.washingtonpost.com in the Metro section under Crime. If you received Saturday's print edition of the paper, it's on page B01.

It's that special time of year.

2007-09-27T03:00:00.000-04:00

When the air feels crisper, the leaves start to turn color and fall to the ground, football is in full effect, and I start to hate the world. My favorite time of year. Meh.

I obviously have no control over my own mental being. Because I really told myself this wasn't going to happen this year, really told myself that I wasn't going to allow myself to feel this way this year. Yeah, well ... the first morning I open my eyes and it's still dark outside? All of those mental preparations go to shit.

And, really? I have nothing to be upset about. I love football, love fall (until it starts to get too cold), love the change of wardrobe, and on and on but every year it becomes more and more apparent that the way I feel is, in fact, beyond my control. Perhaps this is the year that I will actually go talk to someone about it and get help. Of course, that would require me to admit things that I'd rather not admit about my strong self. And, I think we all know the chances of that happening are slim to none.

What can you do to help? Nothing. I'll have my moments of happiness and we'll savor them together but, beyond that, it has been proven time and again there is nothing anyone else can do for me to help me "over the hump". Just bear with me. I really am fine, even if it doesn't seem that way on the outside.

There are some things that certain people can do to help but, unfortunately, those people will probably never read this blog. Those things include: not calling/texting/e-mailing/IMing me if you only want/need something from me or one of my friends; not telling me things that I should do in regard to me/my home/my pets/my career/my finances or anything else that I make the decisions about; not assuming that I am a mind reader and know how you feel/think/do/react to anything under the sun to include any personal/emotional feelings you may have about me; and just generally not pissing me off. And, if you don't know how to not piss me off then you don't know me at all and the door is that way. *points*

This may sound harsh to some people. You are probably someone I care deeply about and I have never had the need to explain something so ridiculous to you. Or, you are reading this and realizing that you regularly do these types of things to me. In that case, the next sentence you should read is the last one of the previous paragraph. Now, back to the people I care about, I must reiterate to you that I am, in fact, okay. I will deal with my issues in whatever manner(s) I decide is appropriate and I will continue loving you even if I get mad now and then or seem more testy than usual (ha!). Just promise to keep loving me and all will be right with the world in due course. I promise.

xoxo

An open letter to ...

2007-09-13T03:00:00.000-04:00

It's okay. Relax. Take a deep breath and step back. You don't have to argue so much. No need to exacerbate symptoms. Just ... chill.

I had a revelation this week. Some of my friends say you're jealous. Others say you're just being you. And others still agree with me that you make no sense at all. I know that you love me ... probably too much. A little "squeeze the life out of it" syndrome never hurt anyone ... except this chic. I simply cannot.will not take it anymore. You have this grand picture in your mind's eye of who I should be.who I should have turned out to be but it seems that nothing is good enough for you. You don't really love me for me. You don't even know me.

You're afraid to ask questions about the way I really feel and the things I really do because you already "know" the answers. I'm the individual you always wanted to be and never had the chance to become. What you don't realize is that it's not my fault you didn't see your life through to it's fullest. It is, after all, your life and this? This is MINE. And, because of that, you are incapable of accepting me (faults and all) at face value. Unfortunately, you make the same mistake of so many in my lifetime and assume that you know the answers.can't handle the truth.don't require my input to see through.into me. The reality of the situation is ... you know me very little.

You have it better than most and it's still not enough. I can't do any more. Even thinking about it sucks me completely dry of life and energy. I give up. I have no idea what more I could possibly do to make myself "right" in your eyes. It's tough having so much in common, eh? One stark difference. Where your mind is closed, mine expands and grows and learns and listens. It craves the opinions, feelings, experiences, and thoughts of those around it to make it better and help it to evolve. I sincerely hope that I never stop listening and reconsidering; it is, quite possibly, what I fear most in life.

You will not win this fight. You will push and push and I will run and run. If you cannot learn to appreciate me and what I'm about then you can, at least, do me the courtesy of accepting me as I am and embracing me while you are able. Please.

Enough with the striped shirts, already!

2007-08-01T03:00:00.000-04:00

For the love of God! You know who you are. Your closet is chock-full of those heinous vertically-striped button down shirts. To make matters worse, I bet you have them all arranged in your, no doubt, walk-in closet by shade, stripe width, and frequency with which you wear each of them. Enough!

It is entirely possible that I will come across your page while browsing MySpace users one bored afternoon at work. And, I will laugh mercilessly at you when, in every single picture, you're donning a striped shirt with a cheesy I'm-so-hot-grin on your face. Spare me.

To make matters even worse, it is more than highly likely that each and every male companion in those pictures with you is also sporting a striped shirt. If we're all really lucky, the shades will blend perfectly to create a veritable rainbow of muted, modern colors. Oh, joy.

And, to cap it all off, sometimes you'll even throw on a white blazer to really amp up the could-I-BE-any-cooler-?-vibe that you're so breezily spewing. Stop, before I lose control of myself.

Toss in a couple of Paris-Hilton-esque sunglasses (hi! remember? you're a man? and a, supposedly, straight one at that?) and perhaps an H3 with 24" spinners and we have the makings of a complete and utter douchebag.

Thanks for the laughs! You may now return to your regularly scheduled house beats and overpriced club scene. *curtsy*

Trip Blog

2007-06-23T03:00:00.000-04:00

As promised, here is the link to the blog specifically designated for our cross country trip:

Cross Country Road Trip Blog

Stop in at will or subscribe for daily updates - the choice is yours!

I've Been Everywhere, Man.

2007-06-19T03:00:00.000-04:00

So we're out of here in ten days ... unreal! I have been planning this trip for practically a year and I just cannot wait to get on the road. YAY!

Jimmy came over the other night and we looked through a bunch of the reservations. We put together a few new plans for things to do but turned down an air balloon ride over Lake Tahoe (wicked) due to exorbitant cost (boo). We're going to see a couple bands, Umphrey's McGee - one of my brother's favorites - in Denver and Femi Kuti - a Ghanaian band - in Austin. We even bought tickets to tour Alcatraz in San Francisco. Of course there are many other major things to see - hello, Yellowstone? Redwood? Grand Canyon? - and so many more new and interesting ones in between too.

While we checked out the map, and I gave Jimmy some tour books for planning activities, we also figured out that we'll drive through exactly 25 states. That happened totally by accident but, I have to say, I'm pretty impressed with our coverage on the three week tour. I started thinking about packing yesterday. I figured, with all that's going on and with everything I've already done to prepare, it would be nice not to forget anything ... or too many somethings at least.

There is still much to do to prepare. Fortunately, I already got the car all checked out and ready to go. I am, however, still waiting for the cargo carrier to be attached and for a few other things to be delivered (please, get here on time!). Jimmy and I have scheduled trips to Costco and the grocery store, among other things. And then, next Thursday we'll pack the truck up and be ready to take off West ... finally. I could not be more excited! YAYAY!

Let the countdown begin.

2007-06-07T03:00:00.000-04:00

22 days left ...

Bright and early on the morning of Friday, June 29th my brother and I will depart for three weeks on the road. After months and months of planning, negotiating, planning, and ... oh ... some more planning we have our reservations, routes, and we're ready to rock n' roll. The excitement is building. In fact, today I begin a series of training sessions for three people to learn how to "be me" while I'm on my sabbatical. That's right. It's going to take THREE people to do my job while I'm gone. I know I jest a lot about not doing much work and always being bored but, the truth of the matter is, that's only because I rock at my job and have it down pat. I have warned them it will not be easy or fun to "be me" but someone has to do it because it's important to the company.

So, for all of you who may be curious about the details of our game plan ... here is how it will go:

June 29th - July 1st : Chicago, IL
July 1st - July 2nd : Hill City, SD (Mt. Rushmore is the draw here)
July 2nd - July 4th : Yellowstone National Park, WY
July 4th - July 5th : Redwood National Forest, CA
July 5th - July 7th : San Francisco, CA
July 7th - July 9th : Lake Tahoe, CA
July 9th - July 11th : Las Vegas, NV
July 11th - July 13th : Grand Canyon National Park, AZ
July 13th - July 15th : Denver/Colorado Springs, CO
July 15th - July 17th : Austin, TX
July 17th - July 19th : New Orleans, LA
July 19th - July 21st : Memphis, TN

It's an aggressive schedule and, when it's all said and done, I'll likely put 6,000 miles on my truck but this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I cannot wait. My puppyface, Casey, will be left in the capable hands of his Aunt Steph and his GF Foxy. Oskar will have the good fortune of being checked on by the lovely Kathleen. (I couldn't do this without you, girls! xoxo) Once I get my act together I will post a link here to the official trip blog where we will post regular updates on our journey and experiences, not to mention pictures!

If you have any touristy tidbits to offer about any of our stops (or anything in between stops) please let me know! I'm really looking forward to this vacation and I'm really looking forward to sharing it with all of you too. YAY!

Certainly Uncertain.

2007-04-11T03:00:00.000-04:00

There are a lot of changes - big and small - occurring around me. Loved ones have found their matches and are putting their connections on display for the world. Other loved ones are waiting for the arrivals of the perfect union of their two souls to arrive as a bundle of joy. Still others are making career moves that will take them far from us but bring such contentedness to their worlds nonetheless. And while none of these things are taking place within the purview of my existence, they affect me and cause me to think about what the future may have in store even still.

One thing is certain. I am certainly uncertain. While I can sit here and hope that one day marital bliss, children, and happiness in my career will be bestowed upon me I could just as easily walk out into the street and get struck down this afternoon. This is the very heart of why I choose to live the way I do. Some may think me reckless or careless with my choices and spending. But I know that when I walk into my home, peek into my closet, or get into my car that I have a little smile on my face because these things make me immensely happy and satisfied. Beyond the day-to-day and as for what the future holds I have absolutely no way of knowing what to expect. So, I choose to be happy with what I do know and can control.

I go to work. I pay my bills. I shop. I travel. I party. I strive to live my life to its absolute fullest, fill my cup to the brim and then some. I have the good fortune of friends and family who I can count on for anything. Anything, and everything, at all. I bask in the joy and happiness of those around me because they are a part of me. And when bystanders look to me with a quizzical expression and wonder, or ask, "What about you?" I feel a slight twitch of excitement. For, while I live vicariously through my loved ones, I can bask in the certainty of uncertainty for my future.

See y'all in hell ...

2007-04-02T03:00:00.000-04:00

Six days until Easter and a few more until the dreaded tax day ... saw this and just couldn't resist! LMFAO! Just remember ... when we go to hell ... I'm driving the bus. Alllllll abooooard!

So, I started my new diet 8 weeks ago.

2007-03-20T03:00:00.000-04:00

I have lost 12 pounds total (my Mom made me weigh myself at their house on Sunday because she was curious). I am not sick of Special K (in fact I just tried the new kind with "red berries" and it's mucho delicioso). I wore a pair of jeans on Saturday that I hadn't been able to breath in for nearly two years. I still eat and drink whatever the hell I want when I get home at night, without fear. I feel awesome. YAY!

This weather & I are going to box.

2007-02-12T03:00:00.000-05:00

Alright ... I'm putting all y'all on notice ... "y'all" being:

Bob Ryan, Tom Kierein, Veronica Johnson, Chuck Bell, and Steve Villanueva of WRC-TV (NBC) 4.
Sue Palka, Tucker Barnes, and Gary McGrady of WTTG (FOX) 5.
Doug Hill, Brian van de Graaff, and Joe Witte of WJLA (ABC) 7.
Topper Shutt, Howard Bernstein, Tony Pann, and Kim Martucci of WUSA (CBS) 9.

Get your acts together! You went to school, right? You, supposedly, studied science and, presumably, graduated with some sort of degree that qualifies you to be a Meteorologist and predict weather, right? Hey, that's great! Now if you could just do us all a huge favor and actually apply those skills you possess and predict something that actually does happen that would be a big help!

On a serious note. If the rest of us did our jobs as shoddily and inconsistently as these Meteorologists get away with every single day we would be broke and homeless. So, can anyone clue me in as to why they earn the big bucks to lie to us day in and day out? I mean, if all predicting weather really requires is verbalizing your best interpretation of a weather satellite map then I'm qualified too!
My prediction for tonight and tomorrow is a rapid and sudden accumulation of no less than 12" of snow and ice.

Hey! Tell me I'm wrong! Oh, that's right. You can't ... because I'm a Meteorologist and you're not. I win.

PS - For the rest of you that are not Meteorologists ... please stop acting, and driving, like complete fucking morons every time a single drop of something falls from the sky. You're covered! You're protected! Those little crystallized pieces of water are not going to hurt you! It's okay. Relax. You probably have enough bread, milk, toilet paper, and bottled water to last you through the 30, or so, minutes it will take the snow to accumulate and, subsequently, melt away. I swear. It's okay. Relax. Wooooooo-saaaaaaaah. *meditates*

Bliss.

2007-02-08T03:00:00.000-05:00

Meeting the person who wants to know everything about you. They will sit next to you on the couch for hours while you painstakingly detail each and every event in your life up to this point. Listen while you excitedly detail the who, what, and where behind every single photo in your albums. They ask questions and you finally feel free to expose the parts of the stories you have never shared before. Look you directly in the eye. They smile when you say something charming. Frown when you say something disappointing. They will grab your hand and hold on tight for absolutely no reason at all. Put their hand on the small of your back while you exit through the door they have opened for you. They know just how to make you erupt in a fit of giggles. How to show you joy through your falling tears. They will catch your eye across a crowded room of friends and make you feel like the only soul that matters. Want to tell you the truth for the sake of respect and decency. They accept their faults, and yours, as the imperfections which make us all special in the eyes of the beholder. Ponder your troubles and offer insightful words of support. They stop by unexpectedly or call or text or e-mail or snail mail just because they thought of you. Say the things that cause your heart to melt on contact. They make an effort to know and love the things you know and love. Give you the knowing glance. They allow you to dream. Have their own dreams. Bliss. Love.

It's not about Republican or Democrat, rock or rap, God or none, tattoos or piercings, up or down, this or that, or anything of the sort. We like to arrange our friends and lovers in superficial terms; categorized, ranked, and numbered. We tend to narrow ourselves to types and preferences. We continuously allow society to dictate the aspects of people which we find most attractive, most desirable, and most pleasurable. We ignore and disguise our own true desires in the face of someone else's opinion. It's always bigger and better. Sentiment has no place in the modern world.

I do not want to live that way. I will not be robotic. I will swim upstream, if I must. I will walk into the wind, if I must. I will achieve what it is that I seek most if it leaves me single from now until the end of time. I will be particular because I can and I should. And if you don't like it, that's just too damn bad.

I choose bliss.

So, I started my new diet today.

2007-01-23T03:00:00.000-05:00

I usually am able to restrain myself when it comes to devouring entire bags of Doritos or pints of ice cream. My eating habits have slowly evolved closer to the side of healthful over the past few years but we all have our slip-ups. I like to have mine every night from whenever I leave work until I go to bed. I rationalize this by saying that because I eat well the rest of the day I don't have to feel guilty about turning into a piggie when the sun goes down. I guess the most logical solution would be to stop being a piggie but where is the fun in that? Meredith + food (have always) = best friends. And I'm not going to let some silliness like obesity stand in the way of quality time with my best bud, food.

Most of you probably know that I have spent the last year kicking my own ass in some way or another. On February 1, 2006 G$ and I started working out as close to three times per week as we can manage with our schedules. We quickly realized that waiting to workout at night was a recipe for disaster when the ellipiticals were passed over for bottles of Malbec. And so began waking up at ungodly hours of the morning to get a workout in before the day even started. We have had small breaks here and there, sometimes for weeks at a time, but we have maintained our resolve to make this habit for the better part of one year now.

On August 20, 2006 I quit smoking after going at it pretty hard, on and off, for at least ten years. The mere suggestion that I had been damaging myself in that way for that long made me sick to my stomach. So, I made quitting a much-deserved birthday gift to myself. I just celebrated my fifth smoke-free month last weekend. And, this year for my birthday (assuming I'm able to stay on the wagon) I will buy myself whiter teeth.

All these changes have caused me to pay attention to things that I would previously have happily ignored. Among these things is the Special K Challenge. The premise is that you replace two meals per day with a bowl of Special K and skim milk. The result is supposed to be a loss of six pounds in two week's time. Sweet! I mean how hard can this be, right? For starters, I hate skim milk; I think it tastes like perfume. Not to worry. I usually drink 1% and that will do just fine for my personal Special K Challenge. Here's a little idea of how it works, and as with ALL diets exercise is paramount to achieving the desired objective: 6am workout >>> 8:30am Special K and milk >>> 10:30am yogurt >>>12:30pm Special K and milk >>> 2:30pm grapefruit >>> 4:30pm onward I carry on per usual and do whatever the hell I want. The snacks can pretty much be anything as long as they're not meal-sized and considered healthy. This is really no big deal. So long as I can convince myself that eating cereal twice a day is a good thing.

Now, here's the fun part. I don't own a scale. I never weigh myself. I have a generic idea of what I weigh because my weight typically doesn't fluctuate much and I can usually rely on the weigh-in I get at the doctor's office annually. I don't weigh myself because we all are too dependent upon numbers. I don't really give a shit what the scale says to me when I hop on (usually, "Ow, you're hurting me fat ass!" ). If I am content with the way I look and my clothes fit then who cares? Also, anyone who has ever seen me can testify that the number of my weight is probably greatly skewed by two, rather significant, physical parts of me. (Editor's Note: If you don't know what I'm talking about, or you couldn't infer it from what I just said, you should immediately close this window and never return.) So, how to know if the diet is working? In lieu of a scale, I have long been my own worst critic via the most necessary of all household tools: the mirror. I will gauge my success based on what I see and if the clothes start feeling more loose.

And, let me just say ... I am not one to engage in fad, or crash, dieting. I am doing this only in support of my dearest friendship and my continued desire to be able to stuff my face, or drink my face off, free of guilt if I so choose. This diet is for me, and my health, not you or anyone else for that matter. Don't let the haters ever convince you that you need to do x, y, or z with YOUR body. If you're going to do something, please just do it for yourself. *curtsy*

Rank this, bitches.

2007-01-12T03:00:00.000-05:00

If I sit here long enough with this big, empty blog window open maybe the words I'm thinking and the emotions I'm having will projectile vomit themselves onto the page. Maybe. Unfortunately (for me, mostly), I know that is not something I can count on.

Yesterday I told a friend that I often found myself with the mouse's arrow hovering over the delete button. Not to delete you or you ... or even you but to delete myself. To free myself from this maniacal stalker's dream that is more commonly known as MySpace. And then I think of all the people I have reconnected with because of it, all the people I have met and experienced a full life with because of it, all of my musings in the forms of photographic and written expression ... and I pause.

I will stay ... for now. I would just say you should not be shocked if one day you sign on and I'm no longer there.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

2007-01-05T03:00:00.000-05:00

New year. New focus. Glancing through my recent (and not so recent) blogs I have noticed they are heavy on the grumpy side of life. New year. New focus. Positive. Thinking. Looking. Doing. Writing. So, here goes.

Anyone who knows much about me knows that I have long been a contender for Coolest Sister in the Whole Wide World but I'm thinking that I just may have outdone myself this time around. Somewhere around the end of summer I concocted a brilliant scheme to undertake as a graduation gift for my brother. The rest of my family had already decided to all participate in the giving of, what we'll call, Gift A. Being the way I am, not because I'm a bitch but because I work hard for the things I have and expect the same of others, I am very anti-Gift A. Thus commenced the brainstorming for Gift B or Alternate Gift.

I am a traveler. I have stayed in the most luxurious of places in the South of France and I have been deathly ill in the squalor of West Africa too. My adventures know no bounds. I want to see, and experience, everything for myself. And, while I am a bit of a world traveler, I have been most negligent of this vast country at my fingertips. So, it is with great excitement, I announce Alternate Gift: I will be taking my brother on a three-week cross country camping trip this summer.

We have the shell of our route worked out, the major stops plotted, and the anticipation just keeps on building. As it stands now, it goes a little something like this: Silver Spring, Maryland >>> Chicago, Illinois >>> Custer (and other parts), South Dakota >>> Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming >>> Redwood National Park, California >>> San Francisco (and other parts), California >>> Lake Tahoe, California >>> Las Vegas, Nevada >>> Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona >>> Denver (and other parts), Colorado >>> Austin (and other parts), Texas >>> New Orleans, Louisiana >>> Memphis, Tennessee >>> Silver Spring, Maryland.

This is bound to be the trip of a lifetime. There are stops along the way to see friends, stay with friends, and have friends join us for bits and pieces. I will spend the next few months, until we leave, preparing by purchasing supplies and beefing up my bank account. If all goes as planned I might just have a laptop to bring with me so I can keep you all apprised of our adventures via blogs and pictures. But, once we leave, I'll never look back. Not for work ... not for anything. Three weeks of freedom. With nothing but my brother, maybe the dog, and thousands of miles of open road and new horizons ahead of us. Heaven.

All I wanted for Christmas was to be exhumed.

2006-12-27T03:00:00.000-05:00

The pressure of the unidentified suffocates me like a puddle of sludge. It weighs down my every action, thought, and emotion. It is simple to blame these doldrums on the time of year, the lack of sunshine, the perpetual cold temperatures. It is painful to strive for the heart of the matter. To admit unhappiness.defeat. To acknowledge that others contribute equally, if not more, to my state of being. How unfortunate to discover something previously thought unimaginable. Not discover, rather, have it imposed upon you. The rawness of it all staring you in the face and taunting you with the "I told you so" look. The sheer humanity of it all. And the lunacy of having convinced yourself life had grown beyond such juvenile moments.

There is no accounting for others. There is only accounting for self.

All I wanted for Christmas was to be exhumed. Though, perhaps that is a product of me expecting more than I ought to. I suppose it is my responsibility to dig out of this nauseating and all-consuming funk. In all honesty, if I were listening to this rant instead of writing it that is precisely what I would advise. Do something.

What happens when you don't know what to do though? When the solution isn't as simple as pursuing something new.undertaking a significant change.taking a blind leap? I like to consider myself a reasonable, thinking person but for the life of me I cannot put my finger on the thing that will make enough impact.

Consider this my feeble attempt to illustrate my disillusionment and discontent to you. My mind and heart are exceptionally heavy. Perhaps more so than ever before. And, I have no one to blame but myself.

A formal introduction, of sorts:

2006-12-18T03:00:00.000-05:00

Their shirts, as you probably already guessed, are care of their Aunt Night Mere ... moi! Tomorrow Brigid and Megan will be six months old. It's hard to believe how much they have grown in such a short time! I'm looking forward to this Christmas even more than usual because of my sweet nieces. Hope you enjoy these pics even half as much as I enjoyed taking them and sharing them with you. Happy Holidays!

I am starving.

2006-12-11T03:00:00.000-05:00

And not for food.

I think you're familiar with this sensation. Most of us should be, for at some point or another we have reached that point. The breaking point. Not breaking in the sense of breakdown, mental or otherwise, the one where you know there is more ... to feel.hear.smell.taste ... but it is all just beyond your reach.

This is the point at which strong declarations are made. "I will ..." "I must ..." "I cannot ..." This is the point at which the weak disavow themselves of their responsibilities - bills, relationships, reality. This is the point at which some of us cut and run on those things most readily addressed because running always feels easier at the time.

In fact, this is the point at which we should be exploring the boundaries of our capacities to do any.everything. Because that is how we truly identify ourselves, in the face of discomfort.

I am starving. For things I know I deserve, can achieve, will need, and still remain hidden. There must be more than this. More than feeling bored at my job, exploring a mindless and drastically uninteresting Internet, being content in mediocrity, uncomfortably allowing judgment to be passed, exuding jealousy, and harboring all things mundane.

Where did she go?

2006-11-28T03:00:00.000-05:00

She went to Vegas and she may never come back! Nah, I will be back. I promise. Catch you on the flipside, suckas!

Welcome to Redemption. Population: Zero.

2006-11-13T03:00:00.000-05:00

No, I'm not okay. And that's really all there is to it. I don't owe you any explanations.

What I will say is that I do not like the direction that my mind and, subsequently, my emotions are taking me. I love roller coasters but I loathe this one.

I thought I could be okay. I thought that I would be able to see past the storm of nastiness back to the eye.center.core of what I know but I cannot. What I also know is that I should not. Just as I do not owe you any explanations, I also do not owe you any chance of redemption. To what end? I will never be able to trust you again. In fact, our current conversations leave so much to be desired that I feel exhausted by the end of them from holding my tongue.

While my mind is quite certain, my hearts aches for the outcome which has not yet prevailed. It will. It must. I have no choice. You left me with none.

It is time to place blame where blame is due. For me. Just as you did what you "had" to do for you. Or was it for me? No, it was for you even though you try to convince me otherwise. Try as you may. There is no other way.

Goodbye.

Dear 7:45am-ish 495 Eastbound Drivers,

2006-10-09T03:00:00.000-04:00

It's just the fucking sun.

I know it's extremely disconcerting to round the corner just before New Hampshire Avenue, just after 95 North, and a variety of other spots only to come face to face with a giant blazing sphere but I assure you it means you no ill will. In fact, if you lower that handy sun visor that all cars post-Model T come equipped with to shade your eyes or even *gasp* arm yourself with some sunglasses, it helps immensely. Those are the only tools necessary to combat the light that so complicates your morning commute from say, mid-September to mid-winter.

There is absolutely no need to slam on your brakes when you see the sun. The sun is not going to get in a head-on collision with you. The sun is 93,000,000 miles away and the only possible damage it will cause you is skin cancer, when overexposed. Relax. Come prepared for your morning commute with the proper tools and then we can all go about our routines without excessive inane driving.

We now return to your regularly scheduled inability to drive ...

I got those skillz ...

2006-10-04T03:00:00.000-04:00

It is no secret to me, or anyone else who bothers to ponder the fact, that I can write. I was always the one tapping out an eight page paper the night before it was due with no difficulty. I was a constant source of frustration to my college BF because I was always done with my work, bugging him, ready to play while he still had hours of studying ahead of him for the evening. If nothing else, my prowess with the pen was further proof that I had chosen the right majors as they both allowed me to frequent the vocabulary book stored in my brain.

Fortunately for me, I have retained this particular expertise into my adult years. I have been a blogger for many years on a variety of sites. I maintain a journal, when the mood strikes me to write by hand. And I am frequently called upon, in a professional manner, to deliver the strongest and clearest of verbal ass-kickings possible. And I do so with extreme pleasure. An excerpt from today's lashing:

"I feel, personally, that I have now wasted a considerable amount of time helping someone who probably does not even recognize the value, or expense, of what was accomplished for him.
In short, you took advantage of an opportunity that was afforded to you based on your particular skill set and, what we thought to be, the caliber of your character. I find your actions most distasteful and I wanted to make sure that you were aware of my personal
feelings on this topic."

I have decided to take this particular skill set to the next level. I am hereby putting my silver tongue on standby. Have an idiot client (or boss) who needs to have it served up cold? Have a moronic boyfriend or girlfriend who needs to get a clue? Having trouble getting what you, justifiably, deserve? Let me know about it. If I can comprehend your situation and provide you with a bit of insight into getting your message across in just the right way, I would be most pleased to lend a hand.* You just let me know.

My motto will be "You mess with the bull, you get the horns." Word.

*Subject to terms and fees agreed upon at time of service. Normal billing rates apply.

Welcome to your newest addiction.

2006-09-08T03:00:00.000-04:00

These were the words uttered to me by one of my best friends, Derek, when I first sat under the needle at Transcending Flesh last October as he looked on happily. I had been pondering the design for some time and finally took the plunge when I met an artist I felt confident about. Stu did amazing work last year and the work he put in yesterday is no exception to his fabulous reputation.

Derek has since moved from the area and because I had spent so much time talking Stu's work up to another of my best friends, Ms. QuixoticChaotic; she jumped on the bandwagon and took the drive to Lancaster, PA with me. I had asked Stu to modify a design by Jeff Bartel that I had spotted in one of their books on my last trip up there late this summer. For the center of the design I had chosen another Adinkran symbol, which I first was introduced to during my trip to Ghana, Africa in 2001.

This one has a dual meaning. The center portion, or Gye Nyame, symbolizes the "Strength and Omnipotence of God" while the surrounding corona, in combination, symbolizes the "Majesty and Supremacy of God".

In addition, I had decided to add a fourth Adinkra to the top of my existing stack down my spine on my lower back. This symbol is of significant importance to me, as its meaning has long been a driving force in my life, "Learn from the Past" or, as in my case, "No Regrets". I was overflowing with excitement and anticipation when we arrived and, true to form, Stu did not disappoint. We began with the smaller of the two pieces and, in no time at all, it was complete.

Finally after about three solid hours of work, between the two pieces, I was done! Stu did an amazing job and I absolutely adore all of it. I could not have asked for a better final product, really. I will continue to highly recommend him to my friends for a long time to come. Who knows? Maybe I'll be back in his chair one of these days for yet another hit of my new favorite addiction.

Do you ever wake up ...

2006-08-28T03:00:00.000-04:00

... and feel like the leftover chips in the bottom of the bag? The little broken, neglected bits and pieces of the glory that once was a newly packaged bag of [insert your brand here]? That bottom-of-the-bag feeling reminds me of this blog. It's not meant for you to understand or care about. It is for me. *curtsy*

It has been one week without you. I have been grumpy. I have been bitter. Soon I will enjoy all the sexiness that is getting over you. The hacking cough. The bits of flem.lung.tar.ick. The irony of it all is ... I still want you. Not because I crave you or because you taste good but because you are comforting and remind me of a plethora of things, good and bad, which I associate with your wispy perfume.

In ten days time I will never look the same again. I waiver between anxiety and excitement. I really just want to get it over with so I can spend hours in front of my mirror admiring the artwork, the placement, and the statement. I am slowly coming to grips with not giving a fuck what anyone else thinks of my choice(s). I have been plotting its photographic unveiling. The ideas literally consume me. Day and night. Right now and just then. Perhaps that's a touch strange since I have yet to even undergo the transformation. Yet I can picture it so clearly and perfectly in my mind ... it all makes sense.

Solitude is a necessary, beautiful time. How I wish more things in my life were necessary and beautiful. Not just routine and mundane.

I endured a battle this morning. The alarm sang to me disgustingly early, as it tends to do; beckoning me to wake up and workout. With Casey's four legs firmly planted in my back, I glanced towards the window and drank in the horror that is a dark morning. Not a stormy, sleepy, somber morning. A "you better get used to this, sucker" morning. It really is painful. This year I will do more. To take care of myself and my head and my heart. I will not let sunshine, or the lack there of, dictate my (un)happiness. I cannot.

Hmpf.

2006-08-24T03:00:00.000-04:00

I hate today. That is all.

Perhaps it is the lack of nicotine. Perhaps it is you. Perhaps it is getting darker earlier and colder outside. Perhaps it is the ongoing MySpace invasion. Perhaps it is my parents. Perhaps it is discontent. Perhaps it is just me.

Comcast: The Vikings of the 21st century. Complete with rape and pillaging.

2006-08-09T03:00:00.000-04:00

Comcast and I have always had a love-hate relationship with one another. While having access to hundreds of television channels is not only appealing but nearly required, in this day and age; having to put up with Comcast, in general, is like getting your teeth pulled with no anesthesia while a hippopotamus sits on your lap. I had an unusually successful run with Comcast at my former apartment. When I called to schedule my service there was a technician at my door within 24 hours ready to set me up! Not only that but I also went one whole year with access to digital cable and Internet with only one service call ever required. How lucky can a girl be??

Not so lucky, as it turns out. When I chose to leave my apartment and move to the place where I currently reside I was not sure that I was going to be able to afford to continue Comcast service because of the considerable hike in rent with which I was confronted. I made the fatal, as it turns out, error of canceling my service. Do you think they had the same technician swing by to pick up all the equipment during one of his other calls in my apartment complex (his designated area)?!? No! Of course not! That would be FAR too simple. Instead, they wanted me to drive my happy ass, equipment in tow, out to Rockville and drop everything off at the service center. Annoying, but it seemed simple enough to me.

So, I drove out to Rockville, parked my car, and walked the labyrinth of offices and unfriendly people. When I finally found the service office there was a line thirty people long out the door - all waiting to return equipment. I was not pleased by this sight, not one bit. By the time I finally wound my way into the office - one hour and thirty-five minutes later - it was clear what the holdup was all about. There was only ONE person working behind the counter, which had space for up to six people. Thirty minutes later it was finally my turn. I was completely livid by this time. I handed over my equipment. With a couple grunts and unintelligible questions she had me sign a few forms. As I walked away I watched her, literally, toss the equipment over her shoulder into a pile and heard it come crashing to the floor. Is there any question why they have so many service calls to keep up with every day?!? It was then I decided that Comcast and I were through and I would live as long as humanly possible without allowing them to rape my wallet with their outrageous prices, pillage their own equipment, and suffer the inadequate treatment of their extremely rude and disgruntled personnel.

And so life went on. For a whole two years! Until the NFL and ESPN (and Comcast, I'm sure) concocted the hair-brained scheme to only show Monday Night Football on ESPN beginning with the 2006 season. Gee, thanks everybody! Thanks for, essentially, forcing those of us who are happily living Comcast-free to suck it up and participate in the greatest television scandal of all time. I had no choice. I was not willing to sacrifice access to Monday Night Football just because of silly, old Comcast. I would overcome my extreme bias and take one for the team. Because I am an American woman who loves her football. Yeah!

I began online on Monday, July 24th. I requested service for basic, digital cable. No frills necessary, I just wanted to watch MNF! I followed all the steps and everything was ready to go. The last step was to finalize my preferred service date and time via chat with an online representative. How fun! Cody was very nice but he really had no idea what he was talking about. It almost felt like I was starting all over again. After about thirty minutes of waiting on him to figure out what was going on with my account he suggested that I call 1-800-COMCAST and work it out with them. Umm ... what?!? I asked him if anything I had spent the last hour inputting online or discussing with him was valid and his simple answer was "No." I could feel my blood pressure starting to rise.

I ended my chat with Cody and calmly reached for the phone. I don't remember the name of the gentleman I spoke with but he was not the best English speaker. Side note: Working in a customer service function without a basic grasp of, and ability to speak, the English language is a HUGE pet peeve of mine. But, I digress. This second gentleman assisted me with arranging the service I had already requested online and then it came time to finalize my appointment with the technician. I was pretty excited! Perhaps I would be back to the digital cable lifestyle by this time tomorrow. No such luck. The first, yes first, available appointment was not until Sunday, July 30th between 11am and 2pm. Excuse me, what?!? That's a long time to wait but at least it was on the weekend. I could handle it.

Enter Sunday, July 30th between 11am and 2pm. I cleaned up around the house. I browsed through catalogs and threw away the ones I didn't need. I played with the dog. I smoked some cigarettes. I watched some fuzzy television. I started to read. At 1:52pm my phone finally rang. Success! No, it was the main Comcast line telling me the technician was running at least two hours behind but he would be there today and could I wait? I honestly had nothing else going on that day besides dinner with my family later on, so I agreed. I went back to reading. I got bored and turned the television on. I got bored again and fell asleep. At 6:36pm I woke up with a start. What time was it? Why hadn't anyone called? Where was my cable?!?

I called 1-800-COMCAST and spoke with Annette. She was most understanding and agreed that I had waited far too long. She immediately suggested that they would waive the $25 installation fee, which I felt was fair and justified. And for when would I like to reschedule my appointment? I insisted that I would only be willing to do it on a weeknight after 5pm or on a weekend. My options were Sunday, August 13th and Tuesday, August 8th. WHAT?! What in the world are these technicians so busy with that far in the future that I have to wait either fourteen or nine days for my next appointment? Seriously, WTF?!? I calmed myself down somewhat since they had already done me the favor of waiving the installation fee and chose Tuesday, August 8th between 5-8pm.

Later that evening, while I was eating dinner with my parents my phone rang. I didn't care who it was so I just let it go to voicemail. After dinner I checked it and, low and behold, it was the technician scheduled to come to my house that afternoon. He called at 8:58pm to tell me that he had been in a car accident and that's why he had been unable to make his appointment. At that point, a good ten hours after my original appointment, I really didn't care if the earth had opened up and swallowed him on the way to my house. I was completely pissed off.

Enter Tuesday, August 8th between 5-8pm. I was home from work with the dog walked just in time for 5pm. I watched some TV and got bored. I started reading instead. Lori called. I finally got up, fed the dog, and made myself some dinner. While I was still on the phone with Lori another called buzzed in and it was a Maryland number. Perhaps it was my technician! It was 7:27pm, after all. In fact, it was my technician telling me that he was running two hours behind but he was going to call another technician to pick up my ticket and take care of me tonight and would I be there? All I could see was red but I hurriedly said yes and clicked back over to Lori. I explained to her what had just happened and she suggested I call 1-800-COMCAST and talk it over with them.

I finished my phone call with her, finished my dinner, and finally worked up the nerve to place the call. Antonio was the lucky gentleman to answer my call this time. As I delved into my tale of lies and deceit I was rudely interrupted by "What's your address?" I thought this curious since when I had just dealt with the automated service to get through to Antonio it told me that I had an appointment today. Had the system forgotten so soon who I was and for what reason I was calling?!? I blurted out my address and continued my tale only to be interrupted again by "What's your phone number?" At this point my blood pressure was completely through the roof and I was one livid lady. I carefully explained to him that I had now wasted in excess of ten hours of my life waiting on someone to come turn my cable on, that I had no interest in letting a technician into my home at 10pm at night, and what exactly were they going to do about all of this?? Not only did Antonio not understand my plight but he was also clearly not listening to me as he asked me questions about things I had just explained and/or doubted that what I was saying to him was true. WTF?! THIS is customer service?!?!

He finally explained that there was nothing he could do. His system indicated that I was the next appointment and that the technician should be on his way. I asked him if it was the original technician who was supposedly on his way or the one that he was sending to replace him? He asked if the technician had called me himself. I was completely infuriated. I was dancing around in circles with a Comcast idiot. He finally said, again, there was nothing he could do except perhaps reschedule my appointment? With a twisted grin on my face I said "Yes, let's see when I can have my next appointment." After a fair amount of tapping and time on hold he returned to announce, with great valor, that the next available appointment was Saturday, August 19th. I laughed. I told Antonio to take his Comcast digital cable and stick it where the sun does not shine. I asked him if he thought it was reasonable for me to wait a FULL FOUR WEEKS for someone to drive by my house, flip a switch, and run a wire to my television. He gawked that he was doing all he could and that he "just answers the phones." I assured him that I was not upset with him, specifically, but in no uncertain terms did I have any interest in continuing on with this maddening installation experience. I asked him to cancel my request and I hung up.

Satisfied I had done the right thing, I calmly went back to reading my magazine. I received two phone calls from a Tennessee phone number. I do not answer any calls from anyone that I do not know and I am fairly certain that Ms. Strangers of Tennessee () does not have my phone number. I was not even remotely interested in figuring out who it might be. Even less so when I realized that no message had been left. Pet peeve number two of this blog. Eventually, I got up to take my dinner dishes to the sink and what, to my weary eyes, did I spy out my kitchen window? Why, it's a Comcast van with a very nice looking gentleman getting out of it! How ironic!

It didn't take long to realize who those phone calls were from, particularly when it was followed by one from the same Maryland number that had interrupted my call with Lori earlier in the evening. I glanced at my phone and laughed. I watched, with a look of sheer mania on my face, as the technician pried the cover off the main cable box for my building and began fiddling around with it. I continued to watch as he gave up, retreated to his van, and drove away. I laughed again, in mischievous disbelief.

I had not only discovered that Comcast is an unworthy place with which to do business but that they also treat their employees with the same utter disregard as their customers! Fabulous! So, Comcast, I say to you ... go fuck yourselves! May you live long and prosper without ever again raping my wallet and pillaging me of my time.

Life is too short. I can go to a bar to watch Monday Night Football for far less hassle. Shit! I might not even have to pay for the beers I drink while I'm there if I work it right. And that sounds like the best kind of revenge to me. *curtsy*

This year for my birthday ...

2006-08-07T03:00:00.000-04:00

... I am giving myself the gift of life. I am going to quit smoking once and for all and I really, truly do not care what it takes to get there. I had the stark realization that I have been smoking on and off (okay, mostly on) for the past ten years and that struck me in a way that I care not to describe here.

This means that I have 13 more days to intoxicate my lungs. After that, I would appreciate it if you, my friends, would kick me in the stomach if I so much as utter the words "I need to get cigarettes." If I am in a bar (or anywhere at all with you) and I bum a cigarette from someone or start whining about how much I wish I had one feel free to slap me. I am completely serious. This is not one of those things where I'll make a coy little face while I run off with a borrowed cigarette and you laugh and say how endearing I am. This is life or death. Mine. If you love me you will participate whole-heartedly in this effort. Your reward will be many more years with yours truly.

Shit, I figure if I have a turtle who is bound to outlive me even if I was perfectly healthy then I, at least, should do him the favor of giving our owner-pet relationship a fighting chance. Tee hee!

I have other birthday resolutions I am pondering but I will have to keep those safe in the brain where no one can find them. At least for now.

Ann: My Alter Ego

2006-07-19T03:00:00.000-04:00

Date: 18 JUL 2006
Time: Approximately 6:30pm
Outfit: Black Banana Republic tank (zero cleavage), Old Navy jeans skirt, flip flops
Location: Metro, Red line

After my second shower of the day, necessary due to the extreme heat and humidity, I blew my hair dry, put on some makeup, picked an outfit, and headed out the door to meet some friends for Happy Hour. I was going to ride the Metro just a few stops down the line that runs behind my apartment. No big deal. I had done this at least one hundred, or so, times before.

As soon as I arrived on the platform at the Silver Spring Metro station there was a train waiting - so far, so good! I found a seat near the front of the car I was in, facing forward, and just let my mind wander. Takoma Park ... Fort Totten ... Brookland ... all was going well. There were no delays and it looked as though I was going to arrive right on time to meet my friends. Rhode Island Avenue ... New York Avenue ... Union Station ... Judiciary Square ... this was like a dream ride, no one had even sat down next to me the entire time. It was an unusually empty train for that time of day but there were a few people here and there reading or listening to music. Gallery Place ... it was here that I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a man standing to the right of my seat. Odd, because there were more than enough seats for him to choose any one rather than stand but no matter, I returned to staring into the darkness of the tunnel and getting lost in my thoughts.

Metro Center ... the same man that had been standing next to me was now sitting next to me, to my surprise. It was about then the train conductor announced that there was a delay ahead of us and we would be waiting at that stop briefly. Of course! This man was probably in his late 30's, he had the skin tone and appearance of someone from the Middle East, and he was dressed and groomed immaculately in a pinstripe button down and slacks. His watch was obviously expensive and in good taste. Still, I found it curious that of all the empty seats on this train he actually choose to sit next to someone, me in particular. No matter, my stop was the next one and surely this delay would not keep us there long.

He asked, "How are you doing tonight?" I glanced in his direction, in slight disbelief, with my hand vaguely covering my mouth and responded, "I'm fine." I turned back to stare at the tunnel walls, hoping he would understand that I had no interest in having small talk. "So ... what type of work do you do?" Is this guy for real?! Not wanting to be outright rude, I turned my face to make eye contact with him and said "I'm a DoD contractor."

"Oh, so you're an analyst?"
"No, I work in the administrative office of my company. I'm a recruiter."
"Oh, that's a good job. I wish I had a job like that. I'm sure you do very well."
"Yes, it's a good job. What do you do?" Perhaps this was my fatal error. However, I like to think of myself as a generally nice person and he really was being fairly normal, if not awkward, so I saw no reason to begin to ignore him right then. Was this train ever going to move again?! He responded, "I'm an engineer."

"Oh." It was then that I became acutely aware of his leg touching mine. I moved my leg. His leg moved closer. I moved my leg again. Was this just the result of him shifting his position and accidentally moving too close or what?! He said, "So ... do you have a boyfriend?" Immediately, without a second thought, I hissed, "Yes." Now I was really starting to get flustered. The train still hadn't moved and I was being accosted by some random dude. He said, "Oh. What does he do?"

"He's in the military." With a slight look of delight in his eyes he quickly responded, "Oh, so he travels a lot?" Obviously my quick thinking skills were in high gear as, with clear annoyance in my voice, I said, "No. He works at the Pentagon. He hasn't had to travel in some time." Was he hoping that I would entertain his ... proposition (?) ... if my "boyfriend" was stationed elsewhere?! The gall! There was a moment of silence - thank God! Maybe the mention of my tough military boyfriend was enough to finally shut him up - and then he said, "So ... have you lived here long?"

"Yes. I have lived here my whole life." He looked at me in disbelief and said, "Oh? You don't look like you're from here." I was really beyond irritated at this point, both with the train situation and this conversation. Did he arrange ahead of time for the train to be stalled endlessly at the stop just before mine?! This was absolute torture! I said, "No?" Without a second thought he said, "You look like you're from Texas." What kind of nonsense was he spewing? Since when can you tell what state someone is from based on sheer looks? "Do you know why you look like you're from Texas?" I was in no mood to respond to him so instead I just looked at him. He leaned in closer to me - and there was not much closer he could actually get without being on top of me - and whispered, "Because the women are bigger in Texas." My eyes grew wide and, just as I was about to inform him that I am not big nor should he say such things to any woman, never mind one he unwittingly buttonholed on a Metro train, I looked up at him to discover he was staring holes into my chest with his beady little eyeballs. I was utterly flabbergasted and completely horrified. This was even worse than I thought! I started to sweat and finally, in a great display of mercy, the train left that station. I tried to calm myself down but he was creeping closer to me again and I was ready to scream bloody murder.

He stuck his hand out in front of my chest and asked, "What's your name?" Without even thinking I blurted out, "Ann," and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Ann. I'm James." He smiled at me and I tried to keep the throw up in my mouth from escaping onto his freshly pressed slacks. It was then I realized that after he shook my hand he did not return it to his territory but instead allowed it to linger in my personal space, coming dangerously close to resting on my leg. "What are you doing tonight, Ann?" I jumped up and said, "I'm meeting friends at this stop!"

"Oh no! So soon?" I clambered over him, nearly tripping on my shoe and made a beeline for the front of the car. I could not bear to turn around nor say anything as he shouted after me, "Enjoy your evening!" I have never gotten off a train so quickly in my life. I refused to turn around to determine whether or not he was following me but I felt quite certain that was not something I should put past him. I hopped on to the nearest escalator, facing the direction I had come from, to discover with great relief that he had remained on the train and I was, once again, safe and sound.

You may be reading this thinking that was a relatively harmless interaction. Let me assure you that there was nothing harmless going on there. He was on a full throttle mission to do ... something. Get a date? Make me uncomfortable on purpose? See how much of his dick behavior I would put up with before I punched his lights out? He's lucky my stop was so close and I was able to escape before I jammed my five knuckles into his perfectly straight, white teeth. This interaction occurred over the course of approximately five or six minutes. Yet, in that brief time, he managed to make me feel completely imposed upon, invade my space, disgorge inappropriate nonsense, and learn my name. So he thought.

After pondering this some more I have to wonder ... is this something he does with any frequency? Does he troll the Metro cars for women to prey upon? Does he have any luck or does he just get his jollies from causing exodus from his general vicinity? Did he just think this woman "from Texas" was a prime target for his completely improper blather? He had never even seen me from the front until he sat down next to me. He crept up on me from behind! Why me?

As I told James, I have lived in this area my entire life - minus the college years - and I have never once felt intimidated in any situation. I have never been waylaid on the streets, the Metro, or even a bar. My friends and family say it is because I appear intimidating and, also, because no one can look directly at you and simultaneously make you feel as though you do not even exist like I can. So, either my aura of confidence is wearing off or he has balls of steel. Fortunately, for me, I avoided any repeat of my early evening events by accepting the offer of a ride home from one of my friends.

Wherever you are today, James, I hope that you understand just how uncomfortable you made me and, if not, I hope someone knocks the ever-living shit out of you in short order. You are a most deserving party.

Woman's Best Friend

2006-07-04T03:00:00.000-04:00

Back to reality. Back to work. Back to the same old, same old. Don't get me wrong ... I have wonderful friends and we keep ourselves busy with a multitude of activities. But, having lived in this general area for the better part of twenty-six years now, I find that when I return home all I want to do is yawn and lay down on the couch. Shouldn't I be more excited? Or have I convinced myself of the illusion that life ought to be chock full of exciting and momentous occasions? I digress from the point of this blog ...

Dear friends of mine in Arlington watched over my dog Casey while I was away. The last time I went to Canada for a week, my good friend Kathleen watched over him and by week's end he would not eat. Instead he moped around with his head hanging low, true to his nickname ... Eeyore. This time around he was eating just fine and enjoying the company of a full house and one rambunctious dog named Tyson. However, I discovered when I picked him up that he had done quite a number on his front right paw. Sometimes when Casey gets bored or irritated he will lick himself incessantly. This time he chose to lick and chew one of the pads on his paw so much that he rendered his foot useless. He has been hop-walking on three feet since Sunday.

This has happened before, though never to this degree, so I am confident that with my paw repair remedies he will be healed in no time. In fact, this morning he was doing much better and on my way to work (yes, work) I dropped him off with my Dad so he could make sure the paw licking did not commence again. Since I feel so badly for him when he's not completely healthy I often will allow him to sleep in the bed with me until he's feeling better. Last night, when I crawled into bed - at a very early hour, with a very persistent migraine - and called the dog up, he gingerly jumped up and settled down just parallel to me. He turned his face and rested it on my stomach and just stared at me while I played with his ears. It was in that exact moment that it struck me just how much our pets depend on and love us. It is true and most unconditional. They even miss us while we're away, so much so they will show signs of depression or self-mutilation in the face of the uncertainty of our return.

It's amazing really. And to think that most of us will never achieve that level of understanding or purity of emotion with another human being ...

Where is .Bittersweet.?

2006-06-23T03:00:00.000-04:00

She's on vacation! From work. From life. And most importantly, from the Internet! But, not to worry, she'll catch you on the flipside. Cheers.

It's a celebration, bitches ... !

2006-06-20T03:00:00.000-04:00

The only question that remains is will I be "Auntie Mere" or "Aunt Night Mere". Hee hee hee ... get it? That's what my sister has called me for a couple of years now. Well, minus the "Aunt" part. That's a new title!

Yesterday my sister and brother-in-law finally met their beautiful twin daughters face-to-face. Megan and Brigid are both healthy with eyes (and mouths) wide open; weighing in just over 5 pounds each and just over 18 inches in length. There have been no dimple sightings yet but we're keeping our fingers crossed that trait found its way from their father to one (or both!) of them.

I spoke with my sister this morning and she's doing very well. They all hope to be home by Friday at the latest. My brother and I drive up on Saturday for the big family reunion (my Mom and Dad are already there). I'm very excited to meet the first new kids in the family and to hone my aunting skills for optimum spoiling of future little ones. YAY!

This funny little thing called life.

2006-05-30T03:00:00.000-04:00

I have long categorized myself as the "live in the moment" type. I often cannot recall specific details of even the fondest memories. I rarely sit around pondering life's mysteries or my place in the world. I have basic opinions on, and feelings about, things - political, personal, and otherwise. And I never regret.

Though I cannot exactly pinpoint when I labeled myself as this type of person I do remember the people who had an influence on my migration in that direction. This is one of many puzzle pieces in my self redevelopment that began in college and continues at this very moment. In college I dated a boy named Brian. His mantra then, and now, was life is short. I had never really put much thought into the fact that life is, in fact, brief. Being around him and immersed in his company caused me to consider things a little differently, cherish moments a little longer, and not hesitate in any case. In college that change of direction influenced such major decisions as completing homework as quickly as humanly possible in order to get to the more serious business of drinking and partying, among others. Though the concept was brand new to me, I was already putting it to good use even if it seemed to be wasted on such, ultimately, insignificant events.

After college I came home and expanded my circle of friends, some of whom also had a tremendous influence on my growth. My first job out of college was boring and meaningless but it was money and it made the parents feel good about things. Probably the only positive thing that came out of that year's worth of employment was meeting Lydia. She is a few years older than me and grew up in Washington D.C. Our life experiences varied greatly but we developed a meaningful and beautiful friendship that continues to this day. She is the best kind of friend. She will share her experiences in the most enthusiastic fashion. She has made mistakes just like the rest of us but she never, ever regrets. You live, you learn, you move on, you make mistakes again, and the cycle continues. And she has no shame. She says what she wants and means it. She does what she wants and loves it. It is nearly impossible to bring this woman down. I still learn from her every time I have the extreme pleasure of being in her company.

I could continue the list of influential people - Haidar, Christine, and Derek come to mind - but my point is not who influenced me and how. The point is the ultimate affect on me and my life.

The fact that life is short hits home, for me, when certain events occur. War. Accidents. Changes. Death. I will spare all of you my thoughts and feelings about war, in the broader and more specific senses. I assume most of you can figure out where my opinions reside and you can feel free to strike up a more detailed conversation on the topic if you like.

I think many of you know that my brother recently had a very serious accident involving a long board and an unreasonable hill. He was seriously injured and it was a most traumatic event for our family. Though I knew he was "okay" as I drove north to be with him, it was only when I saw him and heard him speak that my heart rate dropped from the intensity of a cheetah at full speed back to its usual pace. What can I say? I love that kid and life would be most different and unpleasant without him. In times like those you really are forced to consider the impact that an accident can have on you, your life, and those who love you. Unlike the reality of a long-term illness during which you have time to plan any required goodbyes and final actions, an accident can be the cause of permanent change for which you have no time to prepare. It is truly a wake-up call to do all that you want and say all you should say and let nothing hold you back.

Changes are a funny thing. They can be both significant and insignificant. They can have minimal and major impact. The challenge, I think, is to take away what you can even from the most trivial little change in your life. Change was imposed on my last relationship, rather than one or the other of us imposing change. Due to circumstances beyond my control a loving and meaningful relationship "had" to end. Once I started to see through all the devastating effects it had on me I was able to begin identifying the things from which to learn. It has been a challenge to spin something so negative in a positive light. Slowly but surely I am turning it around. I have the benefit of our continued friendship to help me along. Like an accident, change is not usually something for which we can prepare. More evidence to support the need to live exactly how you want and say exactly what you want people to hear; sooner rather than later.

And then there is death, the most permanent of all accidents and changes. Death occurs every day. People of all ages, genders, and walks of life fall victim. While death is never truly "fair", except perhaps in the case of someone who is suffering, it seems particularly unjust for it to befall those who are young. When my friend Haidar died a few years ago I realized that I was sitting on a mountain of things I wanted to do when I really needed to just get started and do. So I did and I do with every opportunity that I have; I make a concerted effort to leave no want unexplored. Leaving this world with little, or nothing, you desired undone is very closely aligned with living without regret. That is the path that I choose. It is the guiding light of my redevelopment. It is what makes me tell my friends and family how much I love them. It is what causes me to pursue new things and explore new places. All in the hope that when I exit this world, or when something beyond my control occurs, or when my life flashes before my mind's eye that I will not feel as though there was so much left to do, see, experience, and say. Since I choose to live without regret I most certainly would prefer to die without any either.

Lying About Your Age

2006-04-21T03:00:00.000-04:00

Everyone in this country, and perhaps the world, is in such a hurry to be grown. Elementary school kids do things and say things to one another that I could not even fathom at that age. Middle school kids are in pursuit of fake identification. High school kids believe they rule the planet. And on and on ...

Yesterday I heard that a 3rd grader stole the keys to his teacher's car and drove off. Even if I stretch my mind past the possibility of a 9 year old being physically capable of driving a car; what the fuck was that kid thinking? And do not even get me started on this occurrence being blamed on his self-professed favorite video game, Grand Theft Auto, for that is an entirely separate topic on its own. My point is this: we have children stealing cars attempting to act grown and I have adult friends who have "made" themselves 14 and 15 years old on this site. *ponders*

I would guess that the most significant factor driving the decision to revert to your teenage years is the desire to have increased privacy. But, allow me to clue you in on a little something ... y'all threw privacy right out the window when you signed up to a public site, filled your profile with evidence to your character, and posted, not one but, twelve pictures of yourself, your friends, and more. If you are concerned about co-workers, significant others, or authority figures finding you online then you are probably doing or saying something you ought not to be anyway. Perhaps you deserve to be caught. If you are using the age preferences on this site as a method of decreasing other's ability to stalk (heh.) you while leaving your own abilities in the free and clear? I think you are sneaky. If you have a specific person or two that you are attempting to hide from? I still think you are sneaky because you can actually block individual people on this site from viewing you at all.

I am all for people staying in touch and being online. Myself? I have been partaking in the online community for as long as I can remember. I have seen and encountered more than my share of liars, fakes, and cheats. I think changing your age, for whatever reason you may tout, is annoying and flies in the face of the spirit of an online community where friends, connections, and lovers are all made. If you do not like it or want to fully participate then just take your business elsewhere and leave the private profiles for those children and teenagers who really should be putting it to use.

I find it suspicious. I have yet to hear a solid reason that I can identify with for which to lie about my age online. Why would I even bother to put anything on my site if I did not want to encourage people to read, learn, and say hi if they are so inclined?!? Seems a colossal waste of time. I do not need MySpace to keep in touch with my friends. In fact, there are a variety of other communication methods I can employ at any given time. I just happen to think that MySpace is a fun and interesting way to stay in touch with old friends and make new ones.

So, I guess I just do not get it. If you are one of them and you would like to defend your case please feel free. I aint buying it so far.

One Thing, Two Thing, Red Thing, Blue Thing

2006-04-13T03:00:00.000-04:00

So, you may have noticed that I've had a bit of a writer's block recently. That frustrates me because I enjoy writing and view it as a necessary form of relief. And, while nothing of great significance has occurred since last I blogged, I figure that I should just sit here and get some stuff out. Perhaps it will spark a train of thought that I can expound upon in the not so distant future. Or perhaps I will just bore you with my mundane tales and then you can go about your mundane days. Either way ...

Things at work have been "teh suck", to put it plainly. Occasionally I am bid on a proposal as a Documentation Specialist/Assistant Project Manager/General Ass Kicker Extraordinaire. And, when the recompete of some work I had done back in 2003 came around, the customer specifically requested my presence on this new round of work. Flattering since they claim it was because of my excellent work; though I'm fairly convinced it was due to my extreme awesomeness. So, my company bid me on this work after much whining, pissing, and moaning from me. And, surprise! They won the work. The reason for all my whining, pissing, and moaning was that back in 2003 my actual job responsibilities were about a third of what they are currently. I stated my concerns before they ever bid me and was told it would "be worked out", but as it turns out they actually bid me for 20 hours a week. When the Project Manager shared this with me I, literally, laughed in her face. There is no way in hell I can sacrifice that much time from the work I do (no comments from the MS peanut gallery, thanks; it's actually true that I am a world-class multi-tasker and can surf, chat, AND work all at the same time) and still maintain the stellar quality that I have established over my four years in this position.

So, I have been attempting to split my time between going downtown and being here to keep up with my real work. What really frustrates me is that every time they ask me to come downtown they act like it's a national fucking emergency and when I arrive there is only enough work to keep me busy for 3.5 seconds. Now, I admit that I work at approximately twice the speed of most people and that I grasp new concepts very quickly but, still! If you're going to insist that I be there then please at least do me the courtesy of making sure that I will actually be busy all day instead of staring at the monitor, refreshing my e-mail, and hoping that one of my friends will take pity on me and send me a message. The most frustrating part of all is that I know there is work here in the office I could be doing while I sit down there wishing I was anywhere else. And, here's the kicker, yesterday when I asked whether or not my presence was required on Friday I was told "Emily won't be here, so it would be good if you could come down." When I asked why I was told "So someone will be sitting in the office." WTF am I!?! A fucking place-holder!? And, I'm sure my management is just thrilled to pay me the salary they do for me to sit around just so there is a body present. I have a better idea. How about we offer one of the homeless guys I pass on my way there the job for the day. Then we can do some multi-tasking by having a body in the office AND giving to the needy. *odd look* Okay, enough about all of that ... you get the idea.

Things in life have been, otherwise, fairly normal and good. I've been spending loads of time with my excellent cache of friends. I've been spending loads of time with my favorite boy in the world, Casey. I've been enjoying the hell out of this weather and the way it feels to walk around with the sun baking my skin instead of it being chapped by harsh winds and ridiculously freezing temperatures. I haven't had any blow-outs with my Mom in enough weeks that I can't even recall the last one but just give it a minute, we'll be back to regular programming soon enough. I've been more energized recently then I have been in months ... I attribute this to 10 weeks (and counting) of consistent working out and 5 days (and counting) of zero cigarettes. My brother is coming home this weekend for Easter and I just love when he's home. My sister is doing well in the hospital and there is no baby news yet, which is good, since it's still entirely too early to deliver. As you can see, things are going well ...

... until a bird shit on the leg of my khakis this morning while I was walking the dog. And, now my tummy hurts. Ow.

Making some changes.

2006-03-23T03:00:00.000-05:00

But making no explanations or excuses. If I ought to revisit my decision feel free to drop all discussions/suggestions in my inbox. I will reply at my convenience ... or not at all.

Thanks,

The Management.

Lunchtime Blues

2006-03-08T03:00:00.000-05:00

I always bring my lunch with me to work. Unless there is a work-related lunch already planned. It saves me money and I usually do a better job of eating healthy if I pack my own food instead of ordering whatever catches my eye on a menu. Plus, the more time I spend keeping this chair warm the earlier I get to go home at the end of the day. YAY!

That being said, I have come to the conclusion that salad is a most unsatisfying meal. Be it for lunch or dinner. Every time I pack myself a salad I never want to eat it, come lunchtime. I often wait until I'm completely starved, on days when salad is my lunch, to start eating. I always bring one or two other things to compliment the salad, but it's never enough to mask the dread of knowing what awaits me.

What's funny is, there is nothing about salad that I don't like. I like lettuce, yummy salad toppings (when.if I have them) like carrots, tomatos, mushrooms, and dressing! In fact, I have a salad dressing that is the best! Yet none of that yummy goodness ever gets my tummy excited for lunch. Why, then, do I keep buying bags of salad? And packing tupperwares-full for my lunches? Who knows? Oh well.

I can't wait for dinner tonight. Pub food and beer. Oh right! That's why I eat salad for lunch!!

Seriously. Fuck off.

2006-03-06T03:00:00.000-05:00

I have tumbled down one of my infamous Alice-in-Wonderland-esque holes in the floor. Beware: stream of consciousness ahead ...

Falling. Darkness. Confusion. Questions ... questions ... questions. No one ever seems to have the answers. Or good enough answers. Even when I think I got the answer I'm seeking something else always pops up. Later. When the respondent is nowhere to be found. After the topic has been lost. And I have reached the point where even my own curiosity bores the crap out of me. I hate when people make sweeping generalizations about things they see and the way it makes them feel. Don't assume that others agree with you or fall into the same category. State what you need to state for you. And no one else. Even in midst of this down I know that people I dearly love are experiencing things that overpower my doubts and worries with the strength of earthquakes. I heard things this weekend that you only see on television. I am among the fractured connections that could.will feel the brunt of terrible decision-making. And there is not a thing in the world that I can do about it. I waiver between nesting and uprooting on a daily basis. Today I want to look at paint colors. Yesterday I want to move to a place where no one knows me. Tomorrow I want to live on a boat. My mind goes in 962 million different directions at once. Voice over is a regular state of being. Making a list. Telling myself things I should do next.ever.never. "... and then ... and then ... and then." No and then! There are only so many times we can rehash the same topics. Come to the same conclusions. Reassure each other in the nicest of ways. It's not the same. It's not easy. I hate it. I want to go back to the way it was. But I can't. I hate that even more. Having a hard time ranking importance. Being pulled in all different directions. Focus here! Someone shoots up a hand three miles away and distracts me while their buddy steals my sandwich out from under my nose. Do the right things. Eat well and exercise. Go to church and believe in God. Make money and pay the bills. Walk the dog and love your friends. Stroke egos. Reassure. Enlighten. Encourage. Refresh. Reload. Tired. Alarm clock goes off and you throw it through the window. Text message comes through and makes your stomach hurt. Phone rings and you press 'ignore'. Experience something and forget it the next day. Drive your car the opposite direction you need to go. Don't look back. Don't make excuses. Look for a house. Look for a piece of property. Look for a life. Look for a lead. Something. To pull you back. To make you feel better. To squash the doubt. Find your place. Push forward. Endure. Hate this. Hate that. Find the words to write. Lose the thoughts to think. Hear a song. Shed a tear. Read a message. This can't be all. There must be more. Identify happiness. Pursue reality. Loathe. Start new. Be a baby. Educate. Wonder what makes the bomb tick. Put your finger on it. Lose the motivation.

Dear Driver of Silver Grand Am,

2006-02-24T03:00:00.000-05:00

I have one suggestion for you. Next time you realize you need to cross four lanes of morning Beltway traffic to get onto 95, best not to come to a complete stop in order to do so.

Is it really better to endanger the lives of your passengers and everyone in the lane behind you instead of being a little more aggressive or *gasp* missing your exit and turning around? Aren't most exits on the right hand side of the road? Did you miss the 400 hundred warning signs saying that 95N was ahead in X number of miles?

When I blared the horn of my truck at you and scared the living shit out of you (I saw you jump) did you realize that slowing from 80 mph to 30 mph for no good reason was not such a good idea after all? I certainly hope so.

Jackass.

Random Notes (Mostly to Self)

2006-02-14T03:00:00.000-05:00

Something funny is going on around here. I have not quite put my finger on it, but I will. Perhaps it will turn out that it is not funny after all. We shall see.

Chicago cannot come fast enough. I am in massive need of time away from reality. And nothing could be better then the long weekend we have planned in a new city.

Alan took amazing photographs. We knew it while they were being taken. But his excitement over how they turned out is making the anticipation even more unbearable. You rock my socks.

They have played enough Marvin Gaye on the radio today to make me want to sit in the car all night lost in his voice. Perhaps some Al Green, Ray Charles, and others as well.

Back to square one. Where she cannot say what needs to be said gently enough to not sound bitchy or stand-offish. I hate this part. It is the suck.

I cannot believe that my sister is having twins. That shit absolutely blows my mind. Everytime I think about it I get excited and nervous all at once. What's even more unbelievable is the level of detail in facial features provided by the latest and greatest of sonograms. Fantastic.

An old friend did something very brave last night. Hearing from him was the sweetest vindication. Knowing that he is okay is comforting. Hoping the future will be better to him is a must.

Just so you know ...

2006-02-02T03:00:00.000-05:00

... for all of you who have called, written, asked, wondered, and more ... I am okay. I cannot thank each of you enough. Your support speaks volumes and it means so very much to me.

February is proving to be a busy month and it's only day two! While I have several parties and events to look forward to, I also want to take a minute and ask you all to keep my Mom in your thoughts on Monday morning. She's having surgery and all should be fine ... but a few extra well wishes never hurt anyone, right?

One of the above-mentioned parties is for my girlie-girl, Heather Zoe. Next weekend, on Saturday, there will be a lingerie/boxer bash for her 31st birthday (yeah, she's old ... ... hee hee hee). You know Zoe, she's all about the theme parties. If you're interested in joining us - especially if you're of the female persuasion - let me know and I can pass on the details. I'll be the one handing out the robes ... LOL!

I'm thrilled to say that I am going to finally visit the windy city. Chicago should watch out ... the "girl mafia" (aptly named, thank you Mr. D) is taking advantage of one member's work-related visit to the Midwest in just two weeks! Not only do I get to enjoy a new city with some great friends, but I also finally get to lay eyes (arms, lips ) on my MiSS! I'm very excited and just cannot wait! YAYAYAY!

I also plan to head back up to Ithaca towards the end of the month to visit my brother. Casey and I (and maybe one or two others?!) will make the trek to the frozen tundra of Upstate New York. Come to think of it, it's starting to look like either I'm a glutton for punishment or I really do have a secret love of the snow and cold. Pffffft ... riiiiight.

I am looking forward to catching up on some neglected people in my life and enjoying new friendships. Dinners, lazy nights, weekends out, and more are all welcome. Someone needs to keep me entertained. Hahaha. I would like to say, in particular, there are two "new" females in my life with whom I originally started off on the wrong foot. If these past few weeks are any indication, then I would say we have the makings of some good stuff between us. You both rock!

In any event, I hope to see each of you, my friends, sooner rather than later. Much, much love.

These things happen.

2006-01-24T03:00:00.000-05:00

Coffee gets cold. Ice melts in your glass of scotch. You get settled on the couch only to realize you need to visit the restroom. The mother of all zits appears at the tip of your nose on the day of the big event. And so on ...

... and life goes on.

I'm a planner. I am one organized and well-thought-out young lady. I like to know what's going on, who it's going on with, and if I need to bring a bottle of wine. Most mornings when I open my eyes my day has already been laid out at least down to the hour, if not the minute. It is only in rare instances that the pressure of pending plans sits hard on my chest, squeezing the very breath out of me. How terribly uncomfortable.

So, you would think that I would be prepared for the situation about to unfold right before me. You know, since I had so much advance notice. Well, let me assure you, I am not.

As they say, "these things happen". I would like to go on record as saying that statement is the single most unextraordinary thing one can say to another. Of course things happen. It is the nature of our mere existence that cause and effect rule. How you choose to react, respond, and absorb the multitude of occurrences surrounding you at any given moment is what makes each of us unique. It is what allows someone to say "these things happen" and me to think "thanks, jackass".

I like to think I have a firm grasp on my self. It is what drives me to help, in any and every way possible, even if the outcome does not benefit me in any way. It is what pushes me to enjoy what is available to its fullest because things can change in an instant. It is what keeps me from dwelling on things which are beyond my control and, instead, focus on how I can make today better.

I had the benefit of awareness of impending change for months.weeks.days. And even if it does not feel like it right now, I am so lucky because of that reality. How many people never get to say what is on their mind before change strikes them? How many are not afforded the opportunity to consciously enjoy what is available to them to its fullest? So, since I have been well-prepared for what lies ahead I can say that I am fortunate. That does not make the reality of it all any easier for me.

People enter and exit your life for a reason. Sometimes we know immediately what that reason is; other times it takes years of experience to finally recognize someone’s contribution to your existence. There has never been a doubt in my mind what your purpose is in my world. Not once. I am better for it and eternally grateful. You are a true friend and your place in my heart is secure. It is not hard to understand why I am still coming to grips with these imminent changes. No amount of readiness is sufficient in this instance, but there is nothing wrong with that.

My coffee will still get cold. The ice will always melt in my glass of scotch. I will find the perfect spot on the couch and then suddenly need to visit the little girl’s room. And I am due for another zit (or ten) on the absolute wrong day. And so on …

… and life goes on.

My words cannot express ...

2006-01-19T03:00:00.000-05:00

... so I can only hope that someone else's will convey the sentiment.

I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived. ~Margaret Mitchell

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. ~Khalil Gibran

Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there. ~Otomo No Yakamochi

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop. ~Anonymous

shrug

2006-01-13T03:00:00.000-05:00

The other day a friend of mine read my blog and told me I'm not allowed to "lose it". It occurs to me that I might be sounding and/or acting depressed lately. As someone who is typically able to take anything with a grain of salt and keep her shoulders brushed off, all of this "down time" has me dragging ass.

I find nothing to be positive about. I have a constant headache or stomachache. I can't sleep or, when I do, I wake feeling less rested then ever before. I put on clothes and hate the way I look. I realize most of the way through a day that what I am wearing has a tear or stain, of some sort, and want to scream. Food, my favorite thing in the world, is boring. When my dog is doing the pee pee dance I look at him and think "you can wait" (and then I get up and walk him, since he cannot do it himself (yet)). The weekends I used to look forward to are a mere extension of the week. I'm too lazy to call, talk, write, or do anything of any relative substance. Sitting on the couch, inhaling cigarettes (yes, unfortunately), and watching TV while my brain rots is a preferred state.

This happens every year during the winter months. This year is of particular note ... for many reasons. So ... sorry and stuff. If, when you call or see me, I don't seem excited or interested enough; if I don't want to go out and be made to feel better; if I want to sit around in sweats and a sweatshirt all day everyday; if I don't care to discuss what's going on. And so on and so on ...

... just ... sorry.

Shit ... is ... tired.

2006-01-05T03:00:00.001-05:00

Rather then try to explain WHY it is that I feel the way I feel I think I will just describe HOW I feel and you can fit the puzzle pieces together. Yes, I'm taking the easy way out. For now. Why address real issues when I can skate around them? Skating is so much more fun anyway.

angry.sad.frustrated.bored.exhausted.blah.confused.discontent.threatened.scared.fake.plastic.nervous.jealous...

These are not constants. They come and go. Sometimes at inopportune moments. I can talk and talk and discuss and expound and nothing changes. Nothing feels better. So many unresolved issues. So many times I have heard "we'll finish this conversation later". So many tears have fallen.

And you'll read this and approximately one, okay maybe two, will know what it is I'm talking about. In the truest sense. Not in the "hmmm, I bet she means ..." sense. I have all these outlets available to me. All these meaningful and profound people in my life. My resolutions all seem temporary.

I need an escape hatch. I feel like going all "Alice in Wonderland" on everyone.

Stagnant

2005-12-19T03:00:00.000-05:00

I am positively repulsed by the sight and smell of stale, stagnant water. The kind that collects in tiny reservoirs on the side of a lake or creek. The kind that fills the birdbath that is long overdue for a bath of its own. In the summertime mosquito larvae squirm around in the bottom of the bath. All of this truly makes me want to yack.

I find it ironic that I am repulsed by something so very common in the natural world. Particularly since stagnant is a state of being in my life. And I feel a revolt coming on.

It has been too long since I last felt "good". Good in the sense of feeling complete, at peace, and content with my life and/or choices. Good has long since left the building in exchange for "ugh", "blah", and "ohforGodssake". Sometimes even when I think I am on the right track the train diverts itself in the opposite direction, through no influence of mine.

I often wish that I could rise outside of myself and turn back, giving myself the middle finger. Maybe both. I have evolved into everything that everyone else wants and very little of what I want. This is mostly my fault and mostly not. I am partially to blame because I have closely followed my upbringing to "listen and do". I am partially to blame because I did that for so long that I never allowed myself the opportunity to think outside the box. "They" are to blame for everything else. All my influences have taken control with a permagrip, of sorts.

The only realm over which I have ever felt complete control is in love. And, even that has now been brought into question. Helpless does not even begin to describe.

I have been questioning my religious beliefs since my young teenage years. When I verbalized my confusion and uncertainty I was met with an ultimatum and a reassurance. And I never questioned it again ... until recently.

I have been utterly stifled in numerous social arenas my entire life. Freedom. Exploration. Options. Growth. Independence. And others ...

All of this plays a huge part in my inability to properly express myself, as I previously blogged. It's hard to say what you're feeling when you're not sure if you should be feeling it and you're even less sure if your audience is receptive. This charmed life I lead is not all it's cracked up to be; I will make different choices for myself and I will not care what you think. You got to lead your life ... now I get to lead mine.

Someone ought to arrest me for operating a life under the influence of others. Yep, LUI. Sirens, sobriety tests, handcuffs, and punishment. Please.

The Bane of 159 Million Random Thoughts

2005-12-12T03:00:00.000-05:00

I have come to the conclusion that at any given moment there are approximately 159 million random thoughts running amuck through my mind. They come in the form of questions, theories, statements, and sentiments. They are the cause of my anger and happiness; confusion and peace; stupidity and brilliance. There is no cataloging them. They fire like bunker-busting missiles from the far reaches of my mind and land wherever they so choose with neither rhyme, nor reason.

I type about them daily. And then I delete every word, except periodically when I hit “post”. I write about them daily. And then I never read it again. Afraid of what I may have admitted to, I never turn back the pages. Only forward.

I am an extremely private person. Some of you are sitting there thinking "yeah right". You probably think one or two glances over my page and a couple e-mail exchanges or even conversations or time spent together opens my mind up to you. You probably think you have me all figured out. Let me assure you ... you do not. I have written in a past post that I tell you only what I want you to know. The rest is for me. And, on the rare occasion, someone else too. Of course, there are many someones. And each of them only has one (two, at most) pieces to the puzzle. If you gathered everyone who had a piece and put them all together there would still be gaping holes.

It is extremely difficult for me to trust anyone. Not necessarily because I have been hurt by anyone. Not because I do not know anyone worth trusting - I most certainly do. But because my thoughts are intimidating to me ... surely they would knock the socks off anyone who allowed me even half a day to expound. And because when I do let someone in, I am my most vulnerable. I suffer from a terrible case of bleeding heart syndrome. I will lay myself out on the table, and then some, when I feel comfortable enough. And so, best I keep my thoughts to myself and allow the vortex to keep spinning in my mind's eye.

Not so. Not at all.

This vortex has evolved into an unbearable burden. I can no longer properly express myself. And when proffered the opportunity to do so, I completely lose all vocabulary, context, and voice. I burst into tears. I become even angrier with myself that such well-intentioned expressions are lost at the moment of their greatest importance. A carefully constructed list of points and proof are blown to bits at the first sign of a willing ear. Even when my heart says its okay, my mind bears down and takes hostages.

As with most things in life, it does not get any easier only increasingly difficult. The more I lock my thoughts, the more thoughts pile on top, the more confusion ensues, and so on and so forth. To one person I would like to say "I will never forgive you." To another I would like to say "You may hear me but you are not listening." To yet another I would like to say "You cannot possibly understand how important you are to me." And so much more, to so many others. Yet, when the moment arrives ... I am frozen.

Amusingly enough, I feel my most vulnerable when listening to any one of my favorite songs. Singing along. Certain artists speak to me (for me?) so clearly. I will be overcome by, my previously discussed, chills or actually get tears in my eyes or a lump in my throat. At those times I am both equally relieved that someone else feels similarly to me and distraught that they're able to express themselves properly and I am not.

I deeply desire my own voice. I have yet to identify its proper venue. I am quite certain that I am not the only one deafened by the buzz of my own brainstorm. Regardless, I am not as concerned with my potential to comfort others as I am with achieving some peace of mind. Yet another facet of the endless maze.

Feelin' the rage of a million girlies locked inside a cage ...

2005-12-05T03:00:00.000-05:00

I figure if I write enough about it I will eventually figure out why it happens. And then I laugh to myself and remember that you're completely illogical and there is no rhyme nor reason to your wild antics.

It is difficult for me to imagine the power one person has to break down another. That is not one of many inherited superpowers that I have chosen to wield. I have spent many a year feeling the wrath of your misutilization and been brave.smart enough to push it out of my character. For someone who is quick to call on their age and role in my life as justification, you sure have me confused. If you're so learned and wise then why do I always want to laugh when your nonsense comes spewing from your ever-right mind.mouth?

You have crossed the line with me more than once in the last two months. You have failed to recognize your role in my anger.rage.sadness. You have yet to admit that you are wrong. And you will never apologize. This I do know. More than anything else ... your inability to see your own faults ... makes me absolutely ill. I can no longer allow you to get away with such childish and discouraging behavior. I will no longer take the first step.make the first move.apologize.be the bigger person. I am through. You are hurting my heart and soul and I cannot allow that anymore.

You're so worried about my feelings being hurt by someone else and you don't even realize that you have done such lasting damage to our relationship by your own words and actions. You're quick to judge, name-call, and put your foot down. Too much talking, not enough listening. Can a girl get a little support now and then? A little "I understand"? Humor me. Pretend, for one fucking second, that I might know more about MY OWN LIFE than you. I am independent. I have made my own choices and decisions for many a year now.

You shoot me dirty looks and purse your lips in disgust? HA HA HA. You make me fucking sick. Get over yourself. With the quickness. Or you're going to find you have one less person to worry about in your endless pursuit of spreading your "great love".

I guess I'm weird.

2005-11-22T03:00:00.000-05:00

It's been a trend … for as long as I can remember, actually.

Individuals merge in and out of my life's highway. Sometimes there is impact, even collision, other times just a tap, brush, or gentle nudge. I have long been aware of my tendency towards navigating on a parallel path upon introduction. And why not? Is that not the very nature of traveling simultaneously, cooperatively, and without incident? Yet, either I am blind to my own bad driving or others just feel it best to fall back and eventually disappear altogether.

I guess it's cliché to say, but I really do think I'm a good person. I know I am smart, can hold conversations on many varied topics, and enjoy making people laugh. Really I just like to live and let live. I would not rate myself terribly needy or demanding. I think my friends would agree I’m very accepting and agreeable.

So what is the missing link here? Why do I so often fall victim to someone else's disappearing act? Is the best option really to just stop calling, not e-mail, or slink away? To me that seems most cowardly. Why not put your foot down and possibly help another person in the process by widening their vision?

If this had happened to me just today or just last week I would have never bothered to write this blog. But the fact that I am aware of an innumerable amount of these occurrences throughout my life (beginning in elementary school) … that just makes me furious.

And sad.

Things that are ungood.

2005-11-21T03:00:00.000-05:00

First off, I don't really care if you're going to point out the fact that "ungood" is not really a word. It is in my vocabulary ... so ... :op

* Being bored at 3pm. There's really nothing like making it through my entire day at a fairly rapid pace only to slow to a screeching halt during my last hour of work for the day. Yeah, F that.

* People who only talk to you when they think no one else is watching. I don't suppose much of an explanation is required here. You know the type. F that too.

* Shitty family coming over for Thanksgiving. Word.

* Getting "back in touch" with people only to never speak to them again. I mean ... why even bother?

* Add requests from certain bands. Hey! Here's a clue! I know that all you really want to do is have as much exposure for your "space" as possible, but if you even bothered to peep my music interests you would know that someone with a "Shania Twain/Twisted Sister/Jamiroquai" sound is of no interest to me. Thanks.

* The inability to follow simple instructions. Let me reiterate ... simple. We're not talking about rocket science here, folks. We're talking about I say do "this, this, and this" and you do only "this". Way to bring out the raging bitch in me, dude. Right on.

* Tom's inability to count. I don't have 59 friends! I have 55. Get your shit together. You're pissing me off! Hahahaha...

* Other various things to include: cold temperatures and drizzly days.

The Big Chill

2005-11-16T03:00:00.000-05:00

I have never been one prone to sweeping emotional moments. Yes, things of great importance to me are usually met with tremendous passion but that is not even what I'm talking about here. I am referring to the random moments in which you are all-consumed by an emotional mood swing. I think this happens most frequently to women but I also do not think it is reserved solely for them.

When I do have a rare emotional moment it is usually marked by an intense sensation of having the chills. Sometimes my entire body will shake involuntarily. It usually resembles a tremor; a brief moment in which something comes over me and resets my system, in a way. I have been most aware of moments like these while listening to my favorite music. I will hear a particular beat, rift, or hook and the tremor will sweep over me from head to toe. It's actually quite amazing. It makes me feel alive.

I had one of these rare moments this morning while I was driving into work. Not due to Damian Marley's interesting and intoxicating reggae beats (though he's wholly worthy of my tremors) but because of something I saw.

I did not grow up in a military family. I did, however, grow up in this militarily-well-stocked region of the United States. I have, unfortunately, been present at a military funeral during my years. I must say it is not something I ever wish to repeat. Things being the way they are though, I do not really suppose I can survive the next few eras of my lifetime without encountering another emotionally riveting and deeply depressing event like the military funeral.

[This is the part where I tell you how I feel about the war. Except I will not because I do not make a habit of discussing my personal politics except in extremely rare (and much coerced) instances. For my sanity. For yours. And for our mutual friendship. Believe me ... I'm a political science major. I had my fair share of public arguments throughout college. I'm done.]

I woke up this morning tired, but in generally good spirits. I was feeling especially pleased because my dog finally ate an entire bowl's worth of food after not feeling very well over the past few days. I was making my way around 495, singing along with Damian when suddenly many drivers started braking (surprise, surprise). I looked up at what was ahead of me and as my eyes scanned the horizon they rested finally on the back window of a black hearse.

Through the tiny window I could see one thing, very clearly. An American flag draped over a casket. [Cue chills] This chill, literally, began on my scalp causing my hair to stand on end. It then crept down my neck and spine, chilling me to my very core. Finally it escaped through my toes and moved on but it left a portion of the emotion behind. A permanent chill. Whereas I expected my usual emotional reaction; a deep notion of life, this time I felt quite the opposite. Dead.

And deeply saddened. My mind spun off to images of our military personnel overseas. Of soldiers I know personally. Of soldiers I will never meet. Of the man or woman in front of me. Of what must have.could have.did happen to him or her. Of the uncertainty. Of ...

Hours later, nearly three to be exact, I am still freezing cold. And I cannot budge the image of that tiny window, and that flag from my mind's eye.

Please do, rest in peace.

My First Tattoo

2005-11-07T03:00:00.000-05:00

Friday around noon, my man and I hopped in my sweet new ride (see previous blog) and headed North to Lancaster, PA. While the lure of antiquing and horse-and-buggy sightings is enough to make any girl giggle with elation, our visit was of an entirely different nature. I made my first visit to Transcending Flesh (versus his third) where Stu made my tattoo dreams a reality.

The drive was uneventful. I was nervous, but excited. My design had been complete for some time; it consists of three individual Adinkran symbols from West Africa. For nearly two years it had been just a matter of finding the artist and setting the date. Fortunately, I had my well-inked beau to point me in the right direction. When we arrived and parked the car I realized that I had developed a bit of a headache. We spent a few minutes calming my nerves and then we were off.

My portion of the appointment was first. First Stu made sure the design was the right size and then printed it up. He got me all cleaned up and placed the stencil; we all made sure it was straight and in the proper position. I sat back down and attempted to prepare myself for what was next. Little did I know! Stu didn't even tell me he was about to start and the next thing I know I'm getting pricked and poked right in the spine! At first I definitely thought I was going to die and vowed to never ever do this again ... my face said it all. But then I got used to the sensation and all was well. In fact, when he was filling in the part closest to my hiney I was actually giggling because it tickled a bit. Yeah, I'm weird. *shrug*

All-in-all it went pretty quickly and Stu did a fantastic job. YAYAY! I absolutely love it. Black ink looks fabulous against my pale, pale skin. First one down ... how many more to go?!?

Happy Halloween!

2005-10-31T03:00:00.001-05:00

As I mentioned the other day, I had a vision of being a much poorer version of myself this year for Halloween. The day is upon us and I am now able to reveal my secret ...

... my brand new 2006 Nissan Pathfinder SE in "super black". LOL!

I don't know ... I might be a little excited about this! YAYAYAY!

My costume is wicked scary.

2005-10-28T03:00:00.001-04:00

For Halloween this year I plan to be a much poorer version of my current self. Why, you may ask? I can't tell - it's a secret! But I am, literally, dying of anticipation to share it with all of you. Now I bet you can't WAIT until Monday ...

Hee hee hee!

PS - If you know (or think you know) the secret don't spoil the fun for everyone else. YAYAYAY!

Look what you started ...

2005-10-25T03:00:00.000-04:00

I spent 45 minutes on the phone last night with one of my favorite girlfriends. Of course I had no clue who I was speaking to for the first 20 minutes. Yet, I continued to chat. I answered her questions about what was going on with me. I asked how she was and mindless banter ensued. Then, suddenly, she said one thing and I knew instantly that it was Elaine. It didn't matter, though, that I didn't know who I was talking to; I was content just chewing the fat with a complete perceived stranger. I knew I recognized the voice and I would figure it out eventually, but I was not so concerned that I blurted out "who is this?" or anything of the sort.

Elaine is one of a very few things from my former AOL addiction that I treasure; Christine is another. Of course, hearing that voice and rehashing old stories uncovered a wealth of memories, recollections, and many more things that were safely tucked back away where no one can find them. Elaine and I actually met in NYC in the summer of 2003 when a bunch of us AOL-addicts came together for a long weekend. She was the best part of that trip and I've been dying to see her ever since. I keep trying to convince her to move to MD ... but now I think maybe we should both move to Chicago and start fresh.

As I started to say, Elaine stirred a vast collection of memories both good and bad. While the Internet has brought many amazing and wonderful people into my life, it has also been the bearer of an equal amount of frustration and disappointment. Between myself and my friends I have been party to misrepresentation, complete deception, massive drama, and devastating sadness. It's a tricky little thing ... this digital world. Some can, and do, use it to their full advantage whether for good or evil. It makes all of us part-stalker and part-stalked. There really is no better way to "put yourself out there". We blog about ourselves. We profile ourselves. We post pictures of ourselves. And, even still, some of who/what we encounter is imaginary. I have long wondered what motivates someone to create an entirely fictional being to hide behind. Is your real life that bad? Is playing pretend so much better? Are you that bored? Or do you just like using someone else's pictures?

When I am bored, which is more often then I would like, I pour through profiles and blogs. Of friends, of strangers, of anyone at all. You're all being watched. By me … oh, and the 30 million other users of MySpace … oh, and the other bazillions of Internet users around the world. I'm strangely at peace with this truth. Strange because I'm an extremely private person. At peace because there is a certain amount of privacy inherent to mass anonymity. Yes, you see my pictures, read my blogs, and peek into my being on the posted profile. But, you see, while it’s all true it is also a calculated representation. It's certainly not the whole truth. So, the public sees what I allow and I can still remain as private as I like.

A friend posted a blog yesterday. This friend presented reality where they had previously posted only what they chose for us all to see. This friend admitted to a mistake, took the courageous route, laid their Internet popularity on the line and told the whole truth. While I would not encourage manufacturing, or fine-tuning, reality to the benefit of your own personal objectives I do applaud this friend for coming clean and doing the right thing.

If there is one thing I learned, all too well, from my days on AOL it is how to spot a faker from a mile away. You know who they are too. Some of their lives are too perfect, some are too terrible, some complain too much, some have too many friends, and on and on. I cannot be too concerned with people of this sort. It is in wondering if the people I believe I know are who they proclaim they are that I start to worry. That's not to say that I don't trust my friends, perhaps I just suggest that one properly lower and raise their guard as necessary. For, lowering your guard prematurely is what gets some people into the kind of trouble that cannot be reversed. We have all heard the stories, read the news articles, and spread the rumors.

I am not at all sure where this rant came from, but there it is ... *shrug* I guess you have Elaine to thank, or blame, for this blog. Haha.

And so, I have learned ...

2005-10-19T03:00:00.000-04:00

You can have the most astounding revelation. Yet it fails to change the way your heart beats, the way your mind thinks, and the way your soul soars.

You can discover.uncover the disparity among individuals. Thoughts. Words. Actions. Yet it fails to change the course of the trail you have selected. For, at the first sign of attempted alteration, the trail reminds you that it is lined with ten foot cement walls and you have no chance of being rerouted. Hard as you may try. The endless maze.

You can levitate above your emotions. Know more than you should. Feel less than you do. Travel the path surrounded by nothing but failed connections and unfinished business. When you ought to dive right in, head first. Feel. Love. Journey. Without consequence. Until consequence occurs. And it always does. In its own bittersweet way.

And so you continue through the endless maze, with your thoughts equally bitter and sweet. With a half smile and a single tear. Today you feel a shortness of breath, a permanent frown, and a dark cloud over your thoughts.vision.disposition.path. Tomorrow you will journey on. The forecast is sunny.foggy.cloudy.stormy, but you will travel forward because you are not able to turn back. And you choose not to regret. What lies behind makes you smarter.better. What lies ahead ...

And your heart beats.

"Nothing's ever promised tomorrow ... today." ~ Kanye West

I am currently experiencing the longest day of my life.

2005-10-14T03:00:00.000-04:00

Last night Kathleen and I met at the lil Mexican joint for dinner. The one by the dollar store. It was my first time. While I was there I :

a) spilled Corona all over myself

b) ordered a combo platter with three items, but when it arrived it only had two

c) gave the waiter shit for trying to tell me that "taco al carbon" meant the tortilla was fried (nice try, Andre)

d) made fun of Canadians

e) all of the above

After the Mexican food we went back to mi casa (see, I'm fluent already!) and I made some of my famous hangover-inducing margaritas. We drank many of the margaritas and we laughed and we took pictures of Casey and we half-heartedly watched "ER" (pronounced "er"). Oh, and we made phone calls. Yeah, we're funny like that. (I don't think that smiley really reflects the mood of the statement I just made ... I just like to watch his eyes go round and round ... *watches*)

Right. I was blogging. Ahem.

Then Kathleen went home and I took Casey for a drunken walk. After that I read 186 text messages and cried. Then I woke up this morning. I debated turning off the alarm and going back to sleep. After I was up, I debated not going to work. While I was in the shower, I debated calling someone (yes, at 6am) and suggesting we play hooky together.

In the end, I came to work ... puffy-eyed (alcohol & tears = deadly combo ... fyi) and miserable. And now I sit here. And look at the clock. And browse MySpace profiles. And sit here. And say "I'm leaving early". I just want to go home, put on some sweats, get into my car, drive to Alexandria, and crawl into my favorite spot for the rest of the night.

God, I can't wait for 6pm.

Random Bits of Nothing and Then Some

2005-10-12T03:00:00.000-04:00

The effects of three (measured) cups of Hawaiian Kona coffee and three (measured) cups of Starbucks French Roast leaves me feeling slightly psychotic and mostly dizzy. I drink my coffee black and hot like the sun's surface, in case you were wondering.

I feel important in high heels. Click.click.click.

It matters not how shitty a day I have had, what currently bothers me, or how I might have planned to spend my evening ... when I walk through that door and see that sweet dog waiting patiently and greeting me with an excited tail and many pirouettes I know that all is right in the world.

I think I will have pizza for dinner tonight. And then ice cream for dessert.

The people who are most important to you usually hurt you the most. She has a way with words. You know the way I'm talking about. The kind that leaves your insides raging with the mixture of rage and depression and self-pity. And then I realized she had no idea what she was talking about. And I tuned her out.

People are fascinating.

It's ironic that my least favorite time of year is fast approaching. While I like nothing less than to be cold, I will soon be decked out in the most favorite part of my wardrobe. Boots. Hats. Sweaters. Hats!

I love the weekend.

I'm afraid you're quite mistaken.

2005-10-05T03:00:00.000-04:00

I am not perfect. In fact, we are all keenly aware that no one is perfect. What I am, however, is someone who strives to be a good person. I have spent the last several years amending myself in various ways. Not changing; amending. For, at my base self, I know I am a good person. It's in the fine-tuning and incorporation of all I have learned that amendments to my base self take hold.

There are several things I have never been and will never (ever) become. I require nothing from anyone else. I do not require friendship, comfort, or insight from another human being. In reality, none of us do. We prefer to have friendships and, in turn, friends who are able to comfort us and provide insight. But, it is only the most needy among us who actually require anything from anyone else.

I am self-sufficient. I do not mourn the loss of friendship. I have been around long enough to see people come and go, change ever so drastically, and then expect everyone to be waiting for them when they come back down to earth. I do not have time to play games and I absolutely refuse to engage in them. I have my own problems, thank you very much. I need not spend endless hours bemoaning anyone's exit from my life. I make a point to focus on the positives around me, not the negatives.

Before I begin to sound too cold, let me clarify. For my true friends, those who do not run hot and cold but a constant lukewarm, I am always there for them. I am more than happy to listen. I keep secrets better than anyone else I know. I do not gossip about my friend's problems. I will provide whatever insight I may have. I will enjoy your company and cherish your presence in my life.

I take tremendous exception to being labeled something I am not. It has been suggested that I must make everyone my friend; that I will accept no less. This makes me terribly angry and is also, somewhat, amusing to me. Pardon me, but I am a young woman in my twenties who enjoys surrounding herself with people of similar tastes and interests. I am also an extremely busy young woman with a full time job, a dog, interests, hobbies, and a boyfriend and family who all live within miles of me and with whom I spend considerable time with on a weekly basis. It seems little time would be left over for me to force people to hang out with me; to twist arms in search of friendship; or to require anything from anyone in particular.

If you are reading this and you feel as though you were somehow conned into being my friend, I sincerely apologize. I do not agree, but I would be interested to hear what it is that made you feel that way about me.

So, in conclusion, to whomever felt the need to verbalize that perception of me ... I'm afraid you're quite mistaken.

The Underpants Gnomes DO Exist!

2005-09-30T03:00:00.000-04:00

In the form of a Hispanic man in his mid-twenties or early thirties. It's true! How do I know, you ask?! Well ... let me tell you!

One of my girlfriend's arrives at my house last night for a practice drink prior to our evening out with other friends and tells me she's had the cell strapped to her ear since she got home due to a frantic phone call from yet another friend. Confused yet? Good. =) What follows is the TRUTH, I swear to you.

If you read my blog from a few days ago you heard about a mysterious underwear thief instilling fear in the thongs and panties of women in the Prince William County of good ol' Virginia. I am pleased to report (yes, I derive pleasure from this story in the form of hysterical, uncontrollable laughter ... if you think I'm a freak because of that to you I say "so be it." *shrug*), that I am now privy to an EYE WITNESS account of said underwear thief. God, I feel so ... accomplished. Where's the g'damn New York Times ... or the National Inquirer ... when you are in need of a career change? But! I digress. Back to the tale at hand.

The roommate of a friend of a friend (got that?) lives in the basement of their shared townhome in Prince William Country, Virginia. The friend of a friend is constantly insisting that her roommate lock the door in the basement, which she always leaves unlocked. (This is Prince William County for the love of God - you're practically living in the HEART of the ghetto - lock the door! Pffft ... HAHAHAHAHAHA!) Nonetheless, I have to agree ... women living on their own should not be in the habit of leaving doors unlocked. This roommate also happens to sleep naked (now you know why I didn't tell you what city or, even better, provide you with the address of this mishap like a good reporter should). Now, I'm not really sure how one woman could ask (beg, really) for more trouble then one who sleeps in the nude, on the ground floor, with her shades open, and her door unlocked.

So, over the weekend, Sleeping Nudey hears some noises and doesn't think much of it until she realizes that the noise in question is kind of grunt-like. She slowly opens her eyes just enough to see a young Hispanic man standing at the bottom of her bed, staring at her, and making sweet, sweet love to none other then his hand. [insert hysterical, uncontrollable laughter here] Sleeping Nudey doesn't know what to do! So she closes her eyes and, in what must have been an Oscar-worthy performance, pretends she is having a nightmare. She startled our little Underpants Gnome so much that he stumbled out the door and ran off! Good job, Sleeping Nudey! She quickly calls the police and tells them everything she knows. While making her report she looks up to see Mr. Gnome staring at her through her shadeless window! The gaul! [insert additional hysterical laughter here]

The police come and this is where the story became utterly mundane and boring to me. I prefer the part that causes me to lose the ability to breath from laughing so hard. So, go back to that part and re-read.

So much is wrong ...

2005-09-27T03:00:00.000-04:00

Taylor Behl has been missing for three weeks. She is 17. She is a freshman at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, Virginia. She left her dorm room one night with her keys and her skateboard - no ID, no money. She told her roommate she would "be right back." She has not been seen since.

Her car was found parked on a side street near the school. Her VA tags had been replaced with stolen OH tags. The "person of interest" in her case, a 38 year old amateur photographer named Ben Fawley, was arrested yesterday. When they originally searched his home for clues about Taylor they happened upon at least 30 pornographic movies depicting children between the ages of 1 (yes, ONE) and 14 saved to his computer.

Color me disgusted.

(Taylor had a MySpace account at one point. Does anyone know if she still does? I have been unable to locate it thus far.)

Last Friday night at the Blake vs. Sherwood football game at Blake High School (my brother's old HS) a 15 year old girl who attended Rockville High School was fatally stabbed following an argument with other young girls. She was also run over with a car during the course of the fight. Apparently the fight was a result of an incident two weeks prior in which one girl spit on another.

That's right, girls, spitting = stabbing. *odd look*

Montgomery County Public School officials now feel the best course of action is to suspend all nighttime football games indefinitely. My mind goes two directions in regards to this, 1) I went to public high school in Montgomery County and I remember nighttime football games. I also remember the police presence, which is still in force today. How is it that this fight escalated to such a drastic magnitude in the parking lot of Blake High School if police are present at these events? 2) Yes, you genius officials of Montgomery County Public Schools, the answer is to deny high school kids the pleasure of a nighttime football game. Because kids never fight or carry knives during the day!

Way to use your logic! *odd look*

Washington Wizards rookie Andray Blatche, 19, was shot in the chest when masked men attempted to carjack him in his Alexandria, VA neighborhood. He's recovering and stable today. I suppose the questions here are: Did the carjacking attempt occur because he's Andray Blatche, up and coming Washington Wizards star, or just randomly? Did the general public only become aware of this story because he's Andray Blatche or due to the severity of the crime? I'm fairly convinced carjackings happen around here on a regular basis, but I rarely hear of them.

A few weeks ago a man was shot in the face twice while walking his dog in his neighborhood near Adams Morgan in D.C. He did not survive.

... for someone who already fears being alone in the dark. The thought that someone can be murdered, for absolutely no reason, while walking their dog down the street is far from comforting.

Not that you need me to report the news to you, but these are a few of the things that I have been pondering over the last few days. Yes, I'm obsessed with crime. Ok?! Ok. Writing them out is a way for me to make space for more important things. =)

Also, there is an underwear thief running about in Prince William County, VA. He's breaking into people's homes while they're away and emptying out the underwear drawers of the female inhabitants. I'm all for cute undies ... my question is, who the hell wants the used undies of someone they do not know?! EW! LOL!

Two Things

2005-09-26T03:00:00.000-04:00

Things beyond my control will not control me. Period. End of story.

The power of suggestion is awesome. Spontaneity is intoxicating. Where is that trench coat?

sick to my stomach

2005-09-19T03:00:00.000-04:00

I feel:

[edit]Altered.Irrelevant.[edit]Ill.[edit]

I cannot:

Describe my feelings, for their cause has not been properly outlined. [edit]

I fear:

Change. [edit] And that I'm the last one to find out. [edit]

I'm having deja-vu. Right ... this ... second.

[edit]

It's not the same. This time.

As I freely admit about myself "... things I say and do, may not come clear through ... my words may not convey just what I'm feeling ..." I feel as though I'm laying on the tracks waiting for the train to come through and derail in my wake or announce the end. Either way ...

It's not the same. This time.

*deep breath and repeat*

28 SEP 2005 10am

I see you've made a "friend" in Colorado. Since you make no reference to CO in your profile, except in your most recent blog, I will assume that you have been actively looking for friends in CO. *sigh* Seeing her made me sick to my stomach, again, and my face turned bright red and hot. G'dammit I HATE feeling this way. I know you only have good, genuine intentions but still ...

Yes, I believe you when you tell me how you feel about me. But, I would be lying if I said you were making this easy on me. Things like this make me want to revert to how every other female would react, but I care about you (more than you know) and I do not want to burn any bridges here. I just ... ugh, I just hate that you're leaving me. That you're planning on leaving me. That you're planning on leave me SO MUCH that you're actually looking for new friends.

I think I'm going to go throw up now.