Category Archives: stuff

I write stuff.

Chapter 12, Page 247

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June 18 – Gemini
You may be stretched as far as you can go emotionally. From your perspective it’s better to avoid further drama in a relationship than to raise the level of conflict another notch. But it’s hard to walk away from an unresolved situation, especially if your feelings have already been hurt. In a few days you’ll realize that your position was not as precarious as you thought.

Hhhmmm, what does this mean??? Maybe in the handbook for how to get through life on a day-to-day basis they explain all this stuff. Maybe they have a chapter on your daily horror-scope: read it with a grain of salt. There’s probably a chapter on starsigns and Chinese calendars and all that too. In the mean time Everyone has some way to help me relax. The most frequent being to breathe.

Breathe In – phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (that’s the breathing in through the nose noise) Breathe out – whooooooooooooo (that’s the breathing out through the mouth noise) I am practicing hearing the sound I make when I breathe. phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-whoooooooooooooooooooo Maybe in the handbook for how to get through life on a day-to-day basis there’s a chapter on the breathing. Maybe it gives the little noises written out because I’m flyin blind here.

Maybe I can learn to slow down my brain if I’m focusing on the breathing in and out. Meditation teachers seem to think so… focus on your breath (in-out-in-out). I have no focus. I just sort of meander aimlessly until I pick up some little nothing that’s been said that stings or hurts and analyze the hell out of it until I’m a flaming ball of tension. Thus causing myself to be unable to breathe or just able to sit there taking sad little shallow breaths. I don’t know what chapter addresses this. I will likely have those post-it flags all over it.

phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-whoooooooooooooooooooo phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-whoooooooooooooooooooo (so far I’m just feeling a little dry in the sinuses and no relief from the brain… whatever, I’ll carry on)

Maybe I need to listen to them and calm my little self down and freakin breathe already. Have patience that not everything happens when I want it to. My feelings won’t always be reciprocated the way I want them to, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t being felt. The way I treat others is definitely not how I’m treated but it doesn’t mean I’m not respected. “…live each present moment wisely and earnestly.” Where is this in the handbook?? Point me to the page. I say it all the time but I want step-by-step instructions with diagrams. Because this is what I want. To live in the moment, share the excitement of newness. I want to always think about things not in terms of how I’ll feel, but how I’ll grow. Breathe through those moments when I think I might crash. Man, I wish I had that handbook… because when I find that thing, I have some reading to do. phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-whoooooooooooooooooooo

bob and weave

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They should do a ki-ya or make some sort of noise or something when they’re going to deliver a rib crunching blow. It always hurts more when you’re not expecting it. Those “your position will be cut” jabs or the some other traumatizing roundhouse to the jaw. I’m recovering, quite nicely from the last two months surprises and fun. But how do you prepare for the mom punch. A blinding left to the eye that leaves you blinded till the bell rings. The realization that (incidentally I thought I’d prepared for) your mom’s body is not going to last as long as you wanted it to or thought it would. She will not be here forever and she did not stumble across the immortality pill. It was a really hard blow that I didn’t see coming because it’s out of thin air. There’s no disease or tumor or anything, that we know of, but there is something. Something causing my mom to be less than the pillar she’s been. A crack in her shield. I’ve got a grumpy dad that’s lived with pain for a long time… that makes him a crotchety old man. He’s tired and sore and has started to lose his balance. He basically has very little shield so he stand’s behind my mom’s. I’ve expected these things would happen sooner or later with him for the last 14 years and 11 months, so I listen to him tell me what happened and if it isn’t too serious file it in the circular. If something were really bad I’d hop too, but the finding out wouldn’t be the crusher. I’ve already found out. It’s like the initial blow has been absorbed and the shockwave is all that’s left. Today I find myself wiping my nose and drying my tears as I realize that’s what hurts about my mom… Her shield of infallibility is cracked. And it’s not a pinhole this time. There have been a couple times when I’d thought she’d been hit hard enough but her shield held strong. And maybe it will this time too, but the crack is there. My mom is a strong woman. She doesn’t have a job that let’s her relax or sit, she works several evenings after work and on her days off, she cares for an aging couple that have a multitude of issues all on top of living with a grumpy old man who is certain that if he yells loud enough they will hear him through the TV. She’s not perfect and we have our moments. But she’s my mom. There are lessons I could not have learned from anyone else. Humor through life’s difficulties, some tears are best let fall in silence and never stray far from the ocean – it’s amazing how true this is. I think the thing most reflected in my day-to-day life is, that being a good friend is not always easy and the reward isn’t always instant, but it is always worth the trouble. The punches will settle to bruises in lovely shades of purple and green. I’ll absorb the knowledge and move into that part of my life that adult children get to have. So my fitness plan will include more upper body because I guess it’s time I start using my shield.

ribbon awareness ribbons

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I should probably not be driving today. I was minding my own business when the stupid drivers all congregated in one spot and made me all flustered. First there was the stoplight I sat through twice because the lady in front of me decided it just wasn’t time to turn. She had three of those magnet ribbons on her car. I remember when it was new to wear an red ribbon, a small red ribbon, on your lapel to signify your support for AIDS research. In smalltown USA people would look at you and assume you were gay or that you “had the HIV” if you wore one… at least at first. Then pink ribbons for breast cancer and that was cool. But this, this is recoculous. You’ve got every color of the rainbow and the rainbow itself. Support research for everything. Brain disorders, cancer, saving energy in NIGERIA, mental disabilities, sexual abuse, pro-life, animal free, anarchy and my personal favorite the ta-ta’s. There is even a ribbon to end chain email (the color of bull shit no less, and I’m not even kidding. I couldn’t make this up!). Anyhow, apparently the light turned red and she decided that while it was unsafe to turn left, it was safe to have 1/3 of your car out in the intersection. Brilliant. I think I’ll buy a silver ribbon just for her. Then another lady (women… you aren’t making me feel very empowered by my sex here. Your driving skills are lacking) and I are in the intersection, I am going straight and she is turning left. Thus, I have the right of way. So in her brilliance she decides to go, but then stop when the light turns red. I am already giving her the death stare because she has caused me to have to stop short, lest I allow her canyonarrow to squish my little car. Now I am actually yelling (as if she could hear me while air-conditioning in the beautiful 70 degree coastal weather) and saying go, dumb ass, because we’re blocking the fucking intersection! It helped you know, the yelling, I think I made my point (that I am a road-raging idiot?!?) I’m just thankful no one yelled at me (that I could hear). And then while headed back another ribbon clad, SUV came millimeters from ramming it’s grill up my bumper. As he (yes he this time… teenager in Dad’s car) passes by he looked at me and mouths… “go faster”. Wow. I’m wondering how many tickets his parents have paid for. The best part, I was going 40 in a 35. So the rest of the day I will think happy thoughts and come up with my own ribbon campaign to end ribbon campaigns. Does ribbon come in the color of baby poo? That would be fitting I think. Because all the little magnetic ribbons you put on your car can’t take the place of actually doing something.

ye-frickin-haw

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The paperwork is filed and in a matter of days the psycho will receive a rude awakening… Oh her shui will be nicely fenged when she has to show up to court at 9am and realize that her threatening little note is going to cost her two grand. That started Friday off nicely (except the freakin court fees… sheesh!) I did not, however get a chance to conquer the jet ski. If you want to go in the lake at 70 degrees and windy as hell, be my guest… I’ll be here with a towel for ya when you are done. Plus… hill-billy (this is the nicest, most “pc” way I could think of to say it) hell is not so much fun for girls that respect other people and have at least an ounce (or 22) of class. It’s one thing when you know half the valley is going to be invading your lake. You expect it. You don’t expect your friends (not really mine per se, but since I was there with him, his are mine) to take on their qualities. Or invite friends with their qualities thus causing the snowball effect. Have some respect people. If not for other people’s kids, then for the ones you brought with you. Yes, bringing a 2 year old to a drunken debaucherous weekend at the lake may sound like a good idea… but no. It really isn’t the ideal place for sun and fun with youngins. I know, I know… you couldn’t get a babysitter. Well… choices, choices (the pill/condoms are your friend and if all else fails shut your legs!). If you were not bringing your 6 other hootchie friends and meeting up with another 6 equally brainy bro’s then maybe the sitch might have been okay. As it stood, the brain power, as well as the age went down as the hour on the clock went up. Who invited all these ass clowns anyway??? Staying up until 4am in a tightly packed camp with several children present and people sleeping (I use the term loosely) 5 feet away. Oh well, they matched paces with the fuckstick across the way proudly flying his 6 foot rebel flag. Ah yes… mr big brain over there only over shadowed by the idiot of ethnic decent sitting next to me who didn’t understand why it was a racist symbol… hhhmmm Have you taken a us history class? (even a standard issue class that you get will teach you this) Whatever. We left on Sunday before noon and left all of the hill-billy love behind.



The jet ski will hold, and I can simmer a bit more over how triumphant it will be. And my wounds get another week to heal and turn that fantastic shade of green that bruises turn. I think they match my eyes though.

vengance will be mine

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Okay so I am not the greatest athlete on the planet. Marian Jones has nothing to fear from me… hell, Star Jones could probably outrun me. But I am determined. I began my weekend on a quest to conquer my headache. I did that. Then I discovered a new quest… the stand up jetski! I didn’t know how badly I would want to get up on the damn thing. (I didn’t know I had so many muscles hiding under my skin or that I would bruise that fast! Whatever.) I wanted to get up and after 20 tries for 37 glorious seconds I did… then I fell over and could not get my jello-y shoulders to bring me up again. So I looked completely dumb belly draggin my ass all the way back (a whole 5 buoys) to where we were camping. I so wanted a cocktail but sooo did not want a headache. I settled for a bit of a beer and a lot or Gatorade, and endured a bit of shit about not getting up and not going back out. But after showing off the battle scars I earned in a very short time, all was well. Next weekend I will return and that jetski better be prepared… I will be there to kick it’s ass.. Oh yes I will.

Better than fiction…

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You know those annoying people in the movie theatre? The ones that sit behind you with their foot on your chair and then they shake it. fidgety shakey annoying people. I'm in front of one of those. He's sitting next to the chick with the hissing laugh. S-S-S except it's constant. It doesn't even have to be funny. I don't know which is worse, the fidget or the hiss. They both fucking suck. Pulp fiction on the big screen, does not suck.

Fidgeter asked me to do this in the lobby. Ha! I'm not as annoying as his hissing girlfriend

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

cup check

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I called my friend’s cell this morning and got his voicemail. it said “hey y’all, not in, leave me a message…..” I wondered how he knew it was a y’all on the other end and if he too could hear the voices fighting over who to stab first and whether to use a #2 pencil or a bic stic. It reminded me that sometimes you gotta throw rocks. (to prevent the stabbings) I haven’t released in a while and my rocks are piling up and getting heavy. The little trivial ones are meh… but still, gotta let them fly. Better watch out, I don’t throw like a girl.

If you want to piss me off, one sure-fire way to do it is interrupt/talk-over my phone call or try to give answers (that I haven’t asked for) to things you can’t hear on the other side of the call. This kind of micro-managing, death-grip on control bull shit does not bode well with me. If I need an answer I’m big enough to ask. I’m also not dumb and won’t give out misinformation. Thus… I learn more and more how not to be a boss. I’ve been in situations where I supervised several and funny when it came time to evaluate the words “micro manage” and controlling were never part of the gig. I know this may be shock considering the personality I own, but it’s different when you are playing for someone else’s team. Use strengths and balance weaknesses. This is good management. Throwing… throwing…

Redundancy is another one… why do I have to write a hand written receipt for something that was submitted electronically and printed for the customer??? What kind of paper/time wasting bull shit is this? and I don’t need you to tell me the exact same thing you sent me in an email 3 minutes before to make sure I got the email. Of course I got the fucking email! You heard the little bink as it came in when you hit send from 3 feet away. oh, oh, and if you ask me to do something and I tell you I will and give you a time-frame… I will do it. No reason to ask me 15 times if I remembered to order your whatever. redundancy… throwing, throwing

and…. I am not your wife/mother/servant/slave/secretary whatever… and I don’t know who allowed you to speak to those people the way you do and order them around like they work for you, but I do not. The way you talk to someone in public when asking them to do something for you they didn’t have to is “Would you please…?” or “would you mind…?” or even “I’d appreciate it if you could…” not “tell him this” or “do that”. My response will likely be um… k and not friendly like normal where in my head I’m saying fuck yo couch.. do it your damn self until you go out and find some manners. Your money does not impress me and neither do the eleventeen initials after your name. I am living proof that all is not as it seems because the cute little girl at the front desk is probably more qualified to run your shit than you are. yeah… the things we’ll do for health insurance. (okay and to escape the arm-pulling money bandits of the HA casino) throwing, throwing…

okay, okay… I should stop soon. But the biggest rock in my bag this moment is the negative rock. The I didn’t even listen but am going to comment rock. I know you may have worked there and hate most of the people in the building. I also know a hand full of them are douche-bags. But… (big but) I am not you. I am capable of letting go of situations (most especially those not involving me) and walking in clean. Just because it’s a possibility doesn’t mean I’ll do it. When I call… ask how it went before you launch into a tirade about how I can’t and they suck. This is about my life. Not yours. Heaving, throwing… watching for toes….

Oh, yeah… I interviewed at a law enforcement portion of the county. One my mom has worked for with not such pleasant experiences. It’s a mighty big place and I’m a damn good worker. My skills are good and my interview went well. I am well. I am smiling at the little things, the surprise lunch with bf today, the new friend I am enjoying eating sandos with, remembering I throttled my very competitive friend a dominoes last night. There is a certain satisfaction in that. I feel like my bag is empty enough to carry. The rocks are thrown and I will leave them be.

mission possible

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There are some amazing moments (or hours) from the last few days. I got to have dinner with one of the two most amazing women I know in this world. I needed to quantify because the world is big and one out of two makes it way more special of a title. She reminds me of all the quiet beauty that balances my soul. My heart breaks for the time we lose to business and work but quickly mends with conversation and shared feeling that souls can be connected in ways our minds could never grasp. My heart also breaks for the hurdles she faces in the path ahead. Her journey is along that narrow craggy road for a time. It isn’t a choice for her but a task she had to accept. We all have those. They suck. Fortunately she isn’t completely alone. The path may only be wide enough for one but the rules didn’t account for those that hold you up from below and put their hands in the cracks so you don’t twist your ankle. I hope I notice the tug on that private connection before she has to use it to call me for first aid. She will come out the other side a stronger, wiser woman having navigated the path. I hope she can hear that before she has to be told. I would bloody my fingers at the bottom of the barrel for her. This is what defines us. The people we would deplete ourselves for… willingly, happily. Who it is we would sacrifice handholds for. There are not many but the few know. I felt really frustrated earlier and it’s amazing how thinking of the people that make up the pieces of your heart can change that. I think that my barrel has plenty to spare

found: newt

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It appears that the psycho landlady has convinced some hopelessly naive (or perhaps, deaf, blind and mute)person that they should live in her studio.. I mean be a paying guest. Whatever…. 12 days till D day. That’s D for deposit. I really don’t want to have to get all legal speak, paper servin, book throwin at her but I will. Oh yes I will. And maybe a nice little note to her new guest, left on their car, parked with the flow of traffic, close to the railroad ties.