It was mentioned weeks ago.
Now I'm packing for it.
Well, I'm avoiding packing for it.
I am going to the gym and then the grocery store and then the bank and then I will paint my toe nails and take a shower and shave and primp and THEN I will pick Him up and Then we will come and have dinner and T H E N I will pack for our trip to Vegas.
I'm not scared really. Just nervous. And the mini nervous breakdown last night helped a lot.
The roomie caught me though. Thought I looked, well, not ok.
"I'm fine. I just decided to tell my car stereo what I was worried about before He was in the car to hear it. Want a White Russian with me?"
We didn't get that far. Girl talk til midnight. Very much better.
Didn't sleep much last night. Big problem since I'll be up all night tonight. Fuck.
The dog went to the vet. KaChing.
The car got the outside waxed and the inside shampooed. KaChing!
The car insurance check went through with the rent check. CHINGCHINGCHINGCHING.
And the roomie took off before I could pay for bills. Damn it.
I have no idea how much money He is bringing or what to expect to pay for a room or food or liquor store drinks.
Fuck. I broke my CHING.
Hey, the savings account isn't broke. And it holds January's bill money. Time to go live a little.
Make some memories I won't share in the next ten years. Hope my eyeballs and liver make it through the weekend. Hope I don't get rained on. Hope He doesn't expect a ride home if He takes off with a stripper. Hope I bring enough water to keep my brain from sticking to my skull. Hope a street party is all it takes to remember I am still a kid. Hope I stop worrying about sleeping in my car. Hope I remember where to find my car.
Know that His bright sky blue eyes will remind me the weekend is for living, not wishing.
Know that I won't regret missing this chance.
Know that my world is revolving around me instead of Him and I am off to Vegas Baby!
Friday, December 30, 2005
Friday, December 23, 2005
Damn Holiday Cheer
Well, its the last day in the office and I am a straggler among ditchers.
I plan to leave shortly - there is one bitch who has one project she asked me to do MONDAY who is giving me three 'last one I swear' pieces at a time to keep me in check.
Whatever - not like I am dying to get to the mall... well, thats a lie. My roomie graduates college this week and I eagerly announced my interest in being part of the celebration. By eagerly, I mean I had my hand in the air and there may have been some waving and a little jumping while there was a conversation going on at the other side of the room.
They never invite me out but I am always up when the party migrates back to the house. They seem so surprised that I am up at 1:45am on a work night. Fuckwits.
Anyway, I haven't been out to a dance club in over a year... and my wardrobe shows my homelyness. So I figure I'll just get something with sparkles and a deep Vneck and call tonight the 'practice outfit' for New Years.
I digress.
What I meant to say was that I hated the idea of coming in today and spent the entire morning shirking duties. My ex-roomie made it to my building for an hour of chat, all my email inboxes were cleaned out, the post-it copulation that obviously occured in the last month produced what looked like a brood of new mini post-its was decidedly given a profilactic (oh, if I could burn them I would), and a general tidyness is now the mood of my work space even if there is no diminishing of the amount of work there is to actually do.
Then there is this damn 'oh, found one more, you don't mind do you?' mentality that keeps me firmly understanding I am parked at the bottom of Shit Rolls Downhill Mountain no matter the season.
So when people ask if I have plans for the holiday break, I begrudingly reply "I don't know, depends if my sister calls me or if she's decided that I will ream her for being pregnant - if my dad will extend an invitation or pull the traditional 'you know your always invited, don't say you didn't know you could come' that follows three days after any major or minor holiday - if my cousin will use partying with me as a reason to have another affair - if my aunt can pull her bleached blonde head out of her brazilian waxed ass long enough to realize I wouldn't mind having dinner with her but not if she can't ask me outright to buy my own meal BEFORE we choose the restaurant or eat the meal". Even the edited version gets a sidelong stare.
Welcome to Disfunction Alley, my name is Sassy, I'll be your tourguide.
To the right you'll find the stepsister I met at 18 who I wouldn't be able to pick out of a lineup who has chosen me as her guiding light after 10 months in rehab. She hopes to be out by her 19th birthday.
Up ahead, you'll find the Guilt Booth that looks surprisingly like a mailbox where I like to find letters from the grandparents who moved to my hometown 6 months after I left and can't understand why I won't make the trip to hear about their latest trip to the hospital in person.
As you exit, you'll see the light from under the closet door I keep my skeltons in... I've been hiding in there with Him lately; we have stores of canned goods and batteries and vodka to last a good five years.
Please excuse the construction. The remodel is having a hard time getting past the demo phase. Perhaps the next time you visit, we will find it has been deemed uninhabitable by the county and destroyed in favor of something useful... porn shop? parking lot? pet store?
Whatever, as long as I can visit without contributing to the Send The Therapist To France fund.
I need to get a creative hobby. Geez I can't concentrate.
So, back in the real world, in the office on a quickly deserting Friday-before-a-holiday-in-the-marketing-department... I realized I've been spewing my icky humbug guck all over everyone I've seen today.
That made me sad.
THEN my 'oh, and do you mind? there are only another five here... it shouldn't take you long' bYotch-who-won't-go-home found me hiding with the binders in the back room. She isn't too bad really, just irking me today.
See, she has a daughter my age and likes to hear what my generation is up to... and so she askes who I'm seeing and what I do on the weekends... and I never have a reason to lie about it... so I told her that my family is letting me sit this holiday out by being incommunicado during the birthday/Thanksgiving/Christmas months.
Having caught me, she kinda lowered her voice and said "I hope it all works out with your family over the holiday" while she put down her pile of crap and opened both arms for a real mom-type hug.
She stopped her tyrade of running around to push shit downhill on whoever is still here to hug me in the middle of the file room.
Damn it.
Now I miss my Christmas Spirit.
It usually catches up with me eventually.
Its the 23rd already and I hate everything Xmas has come to stand for and resent that I am the only one I know who acknowledges the distain for materialism by not participating.
I hate that I am coming into being someone who says 'yea, I have family but I haven't talked to them in xx years'.
I dispise that I am always having to be the bigger person and I can't seem to muster the energy to be big about anything this year.
And my anger is turning into bitterness faster than I can blink and say "great, how are you?"
Ok, so I'm trying to decompress and get excited about going out tonight and having all my first of January bills covered with a paycheck in my hand and a plan for Vegas turning quickly into the "I had a savings account; then I went to this party" trip of '05.
Somehow all I can think is that I already have plans to hide with Him tomorrow.
Christmas Eve plans with Him.
Well, if the holiday is about sharing time with the ones you love, I guess I'm participating.
Cheer and Merriment and Eggnog and Rumballs and Gym Rat Mantras and Sleeping In to All, and to All a Good Night,
I plan to leave shortly - there is one bitch who has one project she asked me to do MONDAY who is giving me three 'last one I swear' pieces at a time to keep me in check.
Whatever - not like I am dying to get to the mall... well, thats a lie. My roomie graduates college this week and I eagerly announced my interest in being part of the celebration. By eagerly, I mean I had my hand in the air and there may have been some waving and a little jumping while there was a conversation going on at the other side of the room.
They never invite me out but I am always up when the party migrates back to the house. They seem so surprised that I am up at 1:45am on a work night. Fuckwits.
Anyway, I haven't been out to a dance club in over a year... and my wardrobe shows my homelyness. So I figure I'll just get something with sparkles and a deep Vneck and call tonight the 'practice outfit' for New Years.
I digress.
What I meant to say was that I hated the idea of coming in today and spent the entire morning shirking duties. My ex-roomie made it to my building for an hour of chat, all my email inboxes were cleaned out, the post-it copulation that obviously occured in the last month produced what looked like a brood of new mini post-its was decidedly given a profilactic (oh, if I could burn them I would), and a general tidyness is now the mood of my work space even if there is no diminishing of the amount of work there is to actually do.
Then there is this damn 'oh, found one more, you don't mind do you?' mentality that keeps me firmly understanding I am parked at the bottom of Shit Rolls Downhill Mountain no matter the season.
So when people ask if I have plans for the holiday break, I begrudingly reply "I don't know, depends if my sister calls me or if she's decided that I will ream her for being pregnant - if my dad will extend an invitation or pull the traditional 'you know your always invited, don't say you didn't know you could come' that follows three days after any major or minor holiday - if my cousin will use partying with me as a reason to have another affair - if my aunt can pull her bleached blonde head out of her brazilian waxed ass long enough to realize I wouldn't mind having dinner with her but not if she can't ask me outright to buy my own meal BEFORE we choose the restaurant or eat the meal". Even the edited version gets a sidelong stare.
Welcome to Disfunction Alley, my name is Sassy, I'll be your tourguide.
To the right you'll find the stepsister I met at 18 who I wouldn't be able to pick out of a lineup who has chosen me as her guiding light after 10 months in rehab. She hopes to be out by her 19th birthday.
Up ahead, you'll find the Guilt Booth that looks surprisingly like a mailbox where I like to find letters from the grandparents who moved to my hometown 6 months after I left and can't understand why I won't make the trip to hear about their latest trip to the hospital in person.
As you exit, you'll see the light from under the closet door I keep my skeltons in... I've been hiding in there with Him lately; we have stores of canned goods and batteries and vodka to last a good five years.
Please excuse the construction. The remodel is having a hard time getting past the demo phase. Perhaps the next time you visit, we will find it has been deemed uninhabitable by the county and destroyed in favor of something useful... porn shop? parking lot? pet store?
Whatever, as long as I can visit without contributing to the Send The Therapist To France fund.
I need to get a creative hobby. Geez I can't concentrate.
So, back in the real world, in the office on a quickly deserting Friday-before-a-holiday-in-the-marketing-department... I realized I've been spewing my icky humbug guck all over everyone I've seen today.
That made me sad.
THEN my 'oh, and do you mind? there are only another five here... it shouldn't take you long' bYotch-who-won't-go-home found me hiding with the binders in the back room. She isn't too bad really, just irking me today.
See, she has a daughter my age and likes to hear what my generation is up to... and so she askes who I'm seeing and what I do on the weekends... and I never have a reason to lie about it... so I told her that my family is letting me sit this holiday out by being incommunicado during the birthday/Thanksgiving/Christmas months.
Having caught me, she kinda lowered her voice and said "I hope it all works out with your family over the holiday" while she put down her pile of crap and opened both arms for a real mom-type hug.
She stopped her tyrade of running around to push shit downhill on whoever is still here to hug me in the middle of the file room.
Damn it.
Now I miss my Christmas Spirit.
It usually catches up with me eventually.
Its the 23rd already and I hate everything Xmas has come to stand for and resent that I am the only one I know who acknowledges the distain for materialism by not participating.
I hate that I am coming into being someone who says 'yea, I have family but I haven't talked to them in xx years'.
I dispise that I am always having to be the bigger person and I can't seem to muster the energy to be big about anything this year.
And my anger is turning into bitterness faster than I can blink and say "great, how are you?"
Ok, so I'm trying to decompress and get excited about going out tonight and having all my first of January bills covered with a paycheck in my hand and a plan for Vegas turning quickly into the "I had a savings account; then I went to this party" trip of '05.
Somehow all I can think is that I already have plans to hide with Him tomorrow.
Christmas Eve plans with Him.
Well, if the holiday is about sharing time with the ones you love, I guess I'm participating.
Cheer and Merriment and Eggnog and Rumballs and Gym Rat Mantras and Sleeping In to All, and to All a Good Night,
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Notes to Self
1) Even if the tequila is so good it costs $20 a shot in a bar, and the roomie gives you permission to drink whatever you find, its still tequila.
2) When drinking, it is a good time to eek out the tidbits of thoughts from others. You have the guts to ask; they have no inhibitions and will answer. BRING A RECORDER.
3) Tequila = no new memories.
4) Morning wood should not go to waste. Find a towel instead of swallowing as cum shots are harder to justify for breakfast than for dinner.
5) Sleeping for another hour is almost enough time to forget you drank tequila, but not long enough to forget you had a cum shot for breakfast.
6) Don't think because there is leftover mexican that it is edible immediately. Your body still hates you and remembers Every Part of what did this.
7) Planning wardrobe choices around what is easiest to lean over a toilet in does not a good morning make.
8) 2 in 1 shampoo/conditioner always sounds like a good idea. It never is.
9) Thinking you are cool because you didn't yak on your outfit is deflated instantly upon finding your reflection and fro ass baby hairs making a funky halo around your head.
9) Remember the big smile he had on. It helps make the bile in your throat and the bad hair day almost worth it.
10) It is possible, even on the rag, to become sexually excited enough to lubricate.
It is also apparently possible to become lubricated enough to drip all over yourself while performing fallatio - and stuffed full with a wad of brand name cotton.
Do Not think you missed some of 'breakfast' when you lean back onto a wet spot.
He is just that cute and you are just that horny when your menstrating.
11) You Rock.
Case in point: kept up on all the shots, made a bomb ass dinner, got nuggets of blush inducing mushy crap to throw back at him for verification, he left satisfied and on time for work, and so did you thanks to his little known talent of finishing off in 2 minutes while he showers.
And no one but the coworkers know about the hangover = no shit from the party people.
Sah-weet.
2) When drinking, it is a good time to eek out the tidbits of thoughts from others. You have the guts to ask; they have no inhibitions and will answer. BRING A RECORDER.
3) Tequila = no new memories.
4) Morning wood should not go to waste. Find a towel instead of swallowing as cum shots are harder to justify for breakfast than for dinner.
5) Sleeping for another hour is almost enough time to forget you drank tequila, but not long enough to forget you had a cum shot for breakfast.
6) Don't think because there is leftover mexican that it is edible immediately. Your body still hates you and remembers Every Part of what did this.
7) Planning wardrobe choices around what is easiest to lean over a toilet in does not a good morning make.
8) 2 in 1 shampoo/conditioner always sounds like a good idea. It never is.
9) Thinking you are cool because you didn't yak on your outfit is deflated instantly upon finding your reflection and fro ass baby hairs making a funky halo around your head.
9) Remember the big smile he had on. It helps make the bile in your throat and the bad hair day almost worth it.
10) It is possible, even on the rag, to become sexually excited enough to lubricate.
It is also apparently possible to become lubricated enough to drip all over yourself while performing fallatio - and stuffed full with a wad of brand name cotton.
Do Not think you missed some of 'breakfast' when you lean back onto a wet spot.
He is just that cute and you are just that horny when your menstrating.
11) You Rock.
Case in point: kept up on all the shots, made a bomb ass dinner, got nuggets of blush inducing mushy crap to throw back at him for verification, he left satisfied and on time for work, and so did you thanks to his little known talent of finishing off in 2 minutes while he showers.
And no one but the coworkers know about the hangover = no shit from the party people.
Sah-weet.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
I Swear, Mr. Murphy...
I decide what to do with all my free time at work just as there is Work to do.
I notice my entire department isn't ever HERE between 8:30 and 10am, so I don't kill myself trying to mascara and lip gloss myself on the way to work when I wake up late - just in time for the "lets be good girls and get our bonuses" sweep when they are all at their desks and ready to dump on the temp promptly at 8:58am.
I have realized that there are certain things in life that I can not control just as I am asked to take complete responsibility for my life and everything in it.
Of the six office gifts I have recieved thus far, five bought by girls (candles/candlescapes/candle sets, two holiday hand towels, Santa salt and pepper shakers) and the one from a guy, an hour ago; Ghirardelli Dark Chocolate with Mint Center squares... the day after I vow not to dip into the holiday treats in an effort to make the workouts show by New Years.
For the last three and a half days I have been more than modestly prepared for the end of PMS and the visit of Aunt Flo only for her to decide to show up TEN MINUTES after I was asked out on a date. For tonight.
F*ck Murphy's Laws. Its C*ck Bloging Wednesday and all the pics are driving me nuts (agh, I couldn't help it) and I even have dick available to me in about three hours and damn it if I'm not huddled in pain or in an ibuprofin stupor by then. Not to mention already stuffed.
F*ck. F*ck. F*ck.
Happy Anniversary Mom; Cheers to you and your grace in your dance with Mr. Murphy.
::weep softly::
I notice my entire department isn't ever HERE between 8:30 and 10am, so I don't kill myself trying to mascara and lip gloss myself on the way to work when I wake up late - just in time for the "lets be good girls and get our bonuses" sweep when they are all at their desks and ready to dump on the temp promptly at 8:58am.
I have realized that there are certain things in life that I can not control just as I am asked to take complete responsibility for my life and everything in it.
Of the six office gifts I have recieved thus far, five bought by girls (candles/candlescapes/candle sets, two holiday hand towels, Santa salt and pepper shakers) and the one from a guy, an hour ago; Ghirardelli Dark Chocolate with Mint Center squares... the day after I vow not to dip into the holiday treats in an effort to make the workouts show by New Years.
For the last three and a half days I have been more than modestly prepared for the end of PMS and the visit of Aunt Flo only for her to decide to show up TEN MINUTES after I was asked out on a date. For tonight.
F*ck Murphy's Laws. Its C*ck Bloging Wednesday and all the pics are driving me nuts (agh, I couldn't help it) and I even have dick available to me in about three hours and damn it if I'm not huddled in pain or in an ibuprofin stupor by then. Not to mention already stuffed.
F*ck. F*ck. F*ck.
Happy Anniversary Mom; Cheers to you and your grace in your dance with Mr. Murphy.::weep softly::
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
And the Pendulum Swings
Perhaps it was the weekend of bonding, laundry, tug-o-war with the dogs, good hard sleep, and no junk food that left my Monday a little peppier than usual.
With the search for the perfect calendar in full force, I am in a mind to say the lunar cycle and the biorythems of the day were all going well.
Actually, maybe its just that Aunt Flo decided to finally make it and all the havoc her impending arrival ensues eventually disipates into a normalcy that is elating by comparison.
I will say there was a certain appeal I was OOZING yesterday.
And the ego boost has made it through a restless night and manic morning =)
I had a productivity at the office in the morning, making the lame ass job of formatting a document I didn't write (and three other sadists did) a trip down Receptionist Hell Lane. I was in the Zone however and had a manual in succinct bullets and headers before lunch.
I got a call from Him right as I emailed the doc back to its owner... scarfed a burger and discussed job opportunities with smiles and ketchup mishaps before a surprisingly heartfelt kiss in front of the guys. Gonna be hard knowing he is right over the freeway for the next couple of weeks - especially when I can't come to work next week!
The afternoon was filled with research of personal stuff, checking out Amazon for the latest col stuff I don't know exists, and water cooler talk to make teenaged boys blush.
I rushed out of work a few minutes early to get the "extra postage required" on my Christmas cards to find a 20 min line for $.12 in stamps. I chatted it up with the Phillipino woman behind me who by the end of our journey asked if I wouldn't mind meeting her son for a drink. Apparently I am so nice and kind and with such pretty hair, she doesn't care if the girl he's seeing knows she is setting him up with me.
I got to the counter before I could answer.
I left a smile on the PO clerk before departing =)
I decided to fight the masses of Monday Gym Attendees and go in anyway. I was bombarded by a guy selling magazine subscriptions who ended up sitting with me in the courtyard just to spend time with "the coolest chick I've met all month - and its my job to meet cool chicks". I was informed that my open honesty, sassyness, and smart-assed attitude combined with my infallible confidence and disarming smile was more enriching than the commissions he was missing out on.
He was cute, young, filled with one liners and a plastic smile... a huge flirt like me and making money with it. At some point I saw the change though; the smile turned genuine.
I left him for my workout, chatted a bit when I got out, and wasn't too disappointed he was on his way to AZ this morning.
My evening was filled with girl talk with the roomie, as much love as I could pour into my aching Pooch with the bad back, and a little indulgence for dinner.
Yesterdays horoscope said my social graces wouldn't go unnoticed. Well, thats for sure!! I felt like a ball of sunshine, letting my rays pour over whatever I passed. And every bit of conversing, flattery, flirting... enhanced my glowing aura and drew more positive attention my way!
Today apparently I will be more interested in solitary endevours; noteable in my choice of attire/plans of spending time bent over a file cabinet instead of parading in red heels. I'm plugged into my iPod-wanna-be, in jeans and tennies with my hair pulled tightly out of my face, hunkered down at the computer, plotting which stack of papers I don't want to see at my desk tomorrow morning.
And still glowing at the thought of spreading smiles all over town just by being me.
With the search for the perfect calendar in full force, I am in a mind to say the lunar cycle and the biorythems of the day were all going well.
Actually, maybe its just that Aunt Flo decided to finally make it and all the havoc her impending arrival ensues eventually disipates into a normalcy that is elating by comparison.
I will say there was a certain appeal I was OOZING yesterday.
And the ego boost has made it through a restless night and manic morning =)
I had a productivity at the office in the morning, making the lame ass job of formatting a document I didn't write (and three other sadists did) a trip down Receptionist Hell Lane. I was in the Zone however and had a manual in succinct bullets and headers before lunch.
I got a call from Him right as I emailed the doc back to its owner... scarfed a burger and discussed job opportunities with smiles and ketchup mishaps before a surprisingly heartfelt kiss in front of the guys. Gonna be hard knowing he is right over the freeway for the next couple of weeks - especially when I can't come to work next week!
The afternoon was filled with research of personal stuff, checking out Amazon for the latest col stuff I don't know exists, and water cooler talk to make teenaged boys blush.
I rushed out of work a few minutes early to get the "extra postage required" on my Christmas cards to find a 20 min line for $.12 in stamps. I chatted it up with the Phillipino woman behind me who by the end of our journey asked if I wouldn't mind meeting her son for a drink. Apparently I am so nice and kind and with such pretty hair, she doesn't care if the girl he's seeing knows she is setting him up with me.
I got to the counter before I could answer.
I left a smile on the PO clerk before departing =)
I decided to fight the masses of Monday Gym Attendees and go in anyway. I was bombarded by a guy selling magazine subscriptions who ended up sitting with me in the courtyard just to spend time with "the coolest chick I've met all month - and its my job to meet cool chicks". I was informed that my open honesty, sassyness, and smart-assed attitude combined with my infallible confidence and disarming smile was more enriching than the commissions he was missing out on.
He was cute, young, filled with one liners and a plastic smile... a huge flirt like me and making money with it. At some point I saw the change though; the smile turned genuine.
I left him for my workout, chatted a bit when I got out, and wasn't too disappointed he was on his way to AZ this morning.
My evening was filled with girl talk with the roomie, as much love as I could pour into my aching Pooch with the bad back, and a little indulgence for dinner.
Yesterdays horoscope said my social graces wouldn't go unnoticed. Well, thats for sure!! I felt like a ball of sunshine, letting my rays pour over whatever I passed. And every bit of conversing, flattery, flirting... enhanced my glowing aura and drew more positive attention my way!
Today apparently I will be more interested in solitary endevours; noteable in my choice of attire/plans of spending time bent over a file cabinet instead of parading in red heels. I'm plugged into my iPod-wanna-be, in jeans and tennies with my hair pulled tightly out of my face, hunkered down at the computer, plotting which stack of papers I don't want to see at my desk tomorrow morning.
And still glowing at the thought of spreading smiles all over town just by being me.
Friday, December 16, 2005
TGI F*ck It All
THIS would have been a better start to my work day.
I would much have prefered THIS to the f*cktarded things I've had to do in the last 3 hours. 
And there are no signs of it getting any better. Unless I come back from lunch to THIS. 
My day would be made if this were all I had to deal with. I'd put them all back into perfectly useable cube's of notepaper. It would take me the rest of the day, I promise.
I would much have prefered THIS to the f*cktarded things I've had to do in the last 3 hours. And there are no signs of it getting any better. Unless I come back from lunch to THIS. My day would be made if this were all I had to deal with. I'd put them all back into perfectly useable cube's of notepaper. It would take me the rest of the day, I promise. Thank the full moon I put Limp Bizkit on the iPod-wanna-be this week.
Break Stuff is today's soundtrack.
"Your best bet is to stay away Mother F*CKER!!! Its just one of those days"
"I feel like Shit. My suggestion is to keep your distance, because Right Now I'm Dangerous"
"If my day keeps going this way I just might Break your F*ckin Face Tonight"
Its the remixed version, so the words repeat like 12 times in the song. Each time its played.
PMS. Lovely TGIF. I'm not even horny.
What usually keeps me from homicide is that I can't get my hand out of my pants long enough to get the bebe gun from the back of the cabinet.
Email me if you have extra tranquilizers, I'll give you an address to FedEx them to.
Or a sex toy I can break in. Nothing like a quicky to get all the happy neurotransmitters flowing.
I'm gonna go home and find some tequila I can shoot until you send reinforcements.
You think I'm kidding.
I am quite apparently not in the mood for wit today.
See you on the flip side.
EDIT: Confession
I left for lunch and in the car I heard that song by Pink about the guy not being like the other pills and how she can't stay on his morphine because it makes her itch...
I am still in the throws of asshat coworkers causing me to self inflict a bald spot and an eye twitch, but I called Him to see if I could weasel some free car repair from Him. It worked so well I think we decided on New Years plans. And I think somewhere in our conversation he decided to ditch his Saturday day date to expidite time under my hood. Yep, pun intended. His idea.
I am left in a much more jovial mood this afternoon.
I didn't seek out tequila at lunch because I called Him first and that was intoxication enough.
I didn't even eat at lunch. Just barely scarfing two hours later.
There is a hint of a possibility of a smile today.
Even after Pisser's holiday song list, I am fixated on the following holiday weekend.
I even made the call to ditch Dud of the Weekend Drive to spend tomorrow with Him and get my fluids checked.
Yeah. Hello, my name is Sassy and I'm an addict.
He's got a way of sparking my butterflies into formation like no one else and I crave it. I admit it. I'm not quite fine with it right now, but right this minute I am pleasantly drunk on the thought of him and THAT is what will keep me employed today - plus He doesn't show up on a piss test. Not all bad, right?
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Yuppies
Who the F*CK do you think you are?
Give a temp who's never seen what you do the biggest most important job you have??
Its YOU being audited - YOUR files no one can navigate - YOUR shitty worded contracts no one can read - YOUR ASS when the temp can't find what YOU can't decide you are looking for.
Oh, and to think all the input you have to give is "um, this still doesn't say what I need it to, keep looking".
Look you asshat, get out of your chair and stop talking to your kids and checking your lipliner and look and the cumbersome freakshow of a file you've created and start saving your OWN ASS.
I saw you tremble in front of the auditor last night. So did he by the way.
And seriously, we had gone over those binders ONE HOUR before he got there and suddenly with him sitting there I ME SINGULARLY didn't get you the right stuff for when he showed up TWO DAYS earlier than I was told to have the project done by.
It has been three days of hell trying to appease you. I'd never met you before Friday and now I despise your voicemail saying "thanks but um no".
Shove it you cock hungry ex wife who can't decide to keep the married name for the sake of your kid's absence notes matching the name on their school records - stop whining to me about what your life amounts to via last name and help me find what your back-from-the-office-party-because-there-was-no-bar half hearted giggle with that extra 12 lbs of belly fat in red velvet so you can REALLY tell where all the chocolates went veneered smile and deer in the semi lights can't seem to nail down even when I highlight the f*cking thing for you.
And stop looking past your every-two-weeks highlights down at me because I'm fine with my virgin hair. Get out of your chair and HELP ME COVER THIS AUDIT.
F*ck man. Seriously. Deal you psych case of insecurity. I'm going to lunch.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Workin It
So last week I woke up at 9am, cleaned up after a dog fight, and got in REALLY late when the entire department was flipping out for what I saw was no reason at all.
Today I get up at 8:45am, take my time because the entire department was to be out of the office and I don't give a rip about the two things I left on my desk at 7pm when I left last night so I took a shower, made my bed, pet the dog, and not quite rushed out the door at 9:40am.
Yeah. I had a 10am with my section of the department.
They don't leave until after lunch.
And they ALL noticed I wasn't here at 9:30ish.
So here I sit with a mountain of work to do that wasn't here last night, a half ready resume waiting to be updated, a manager who loves my work and can-do-it-ness but doesn't understand why I can't get out of bed in the mornings.
Is this the life I choose for myself? Can I resign to apply for cubicle positions with partially non existent management? Will I knowingly take a seat at the bottom of a shit-rolls-downhill mountain?? And is there any real alternative???
I love the income, the weekends off, the possible perks of a permanent position... and my home business is sitting waiting for me to acknowledge it with a promise of 40hrs a week of work on my schedule, a company car, a team of women who compete with me but support me at every step... and there is no looking down there nose at me because they have a better title.
I'm off to the copier machine, to find labels, to print copies of excel spreadsheets, and to fix my resume for whatever job I'll be in come March. And when they all leave this afternoon, I'm taking as long of a lunch as I need to for my errands to get run. (No, I haven't tested the waters enough... I'm a temp, WTF ever)
Today I get up at 8:45am, take my time because the entire department was to be out of the office and I don't give a rip about the two things I left on my desk at 7pm when I left last night so I took a shower, made my bed, pet the dog, and not quite rushed out the door at 9:40am.
Yeah. I had a 10am with my section of the department.
They don't leave until after lunch.
And they ALL noticed I wasn't here at 9:30ish.
So here I sit with a mountain of work to do that wasn't here last night, a half ready resume waiting to be updated, a manager who loves my work and can-do-it-ness but doesn't understand why I can't get out of bed in the mornings.
Is this the life I choose for myself? Can I resign to apply for cubicle positions with partially non existent management? Will I knowingly take a seat at the bottom of a shit-rolls-downhill mountain?? And is there any real alternative???
I love the income, the weekends off, the possible perks of a permanent position... and my home business is sitting waiting for me to acknowledge it with a promise of 40hrs a week of work on my schedule, a company car, a team of women who compete with me but support me at every step... and there is no looking down there nose at me because they have a better title.
I'm off to the copier machine, to find labels, to print copies of excel spreadsheets, and to fix my resume for whatever job I'll be in come March. And when they all leave this afternoon, I'm taking as long of a lunch as I need to for my errands to get run. (No, I haven't tested the waters enough... I'm a temp, WTF ever)
Monday, December 12, 2005
Filthy Rich
Have you ever had so much money horded up that you literally didn't know what to do with it?
I mean really had no clue how much you could accomplish because you had never seen SOOO many zeros after your account number before??
So appaulingly ridiculously dumbfoundingly rolling in it that to travel for the holidays won't interfere with your ability to buy out the shoe department the day after Christmas?
I'm not talking millionaire status... I'm talking you make less than $30,000 a year and somehow a year after declairing bankruptcy your will power or lifted boot straps or cinched belt or humble acceptance that you do indeed make less than $30,000 a year has left you with what you feel is a nest egg in the making??
Well, it sucks.
For a year I've eaten Hot Pockets and 10 for $10 cans of soup and chili.
I'm wearing a pair of shoes I wore to my first day at University. I graduated four years ago.
I've respectfully declined any outing that did not come with the expressed clause "I've got it."
Hell, after looking over my recent paystubs and receipts, I've found that of all the contributing I've done to the current household, somehow I haven't bought TP in four months.
So, here I sit with numerous invitations for holiday trips and parties.
I have five pressing matters to attend to on my car.
I have to seriously think about how much money I will put into my dog to keep her walking.
I will eventually stop enjoying the homemade cookies and the gym workouts will do more than make me sleep well and I will get sick of the two pair of shoes that cover my feet in the rain having leaks in them and update my wardrobe.
I have a car payment that still hangs over my head and a student loan payment in the wings.
You'd think I'd be EX - TA - TIC to have the ability to deal with any one of these situations with more than a "when I win the lottery" statement. But somehow I loath the decision of choosing which part of my life takes precident this season.
What to do, what to do...
Friday, December 09, 2005
Responsibility
Now, my house doesn't look anything like this... but I'll tell you it feels like it with all the particular personalities that come along with four girls, three indoor cats, two indoor dogs, and a cat in the garage.
Not that I will ever taut my ability to get out of the house in any reasonably calm or timely manner on any morning, but today - well, I'm supposed to get to work at 9am and getting up at 8:45 isn't Exactly the way I think I can get to work on time BUT with the critters underfoot and pushing me over and screaming at me for giving the big ones treats before the little ones and the little ones wanting to get outside instead of the big ones and getting ANY of them to understand that just because I am in the house at 9:30am (via how much sun is available to bask in on the kitchen floor, believe me they know I'm not supposed to be there) Does Not mean its Saturday and I have all the time in the day to cuddle and caress and talk back to and wait around for piddles and give treats all day long...
And to walk into the building, purse in hand, sunglasses on head, and see my boss walking away from me... and she didn't turn around... more relief than ExLax can provide. =)
EDIT: I had this post in draft mode earlier this week. Upon review I find it HILARIOUS that today I was an Hour and a Half late to work due to a REAL pet emergency - dog fight.
In the kitchen.
Torn ear.
Popped eye cyst.
Blood Everywhere.
Three girls as witnesses and the only conclusion was that it was out of NOWHERE.
Before I left the house there were 10 paper towels covered in blood in the garbage, a clear path of clean floor where the clean up crew spot checked, one band aided ear on the big one, two very clean eyeballs on the little one, two shell shocked roomies, and me dashing off to work hoping not to be noticed.
No such luck.
The temp agency had called, two coworkers had keys in hand to search the sides of the freeways for me, another gave me shit for making them think I had quit and not told anyone, and somehow the entire department is up to their fake boobs in work and they thought I wouldn't be here to help. Tell you what folks, I just got my load of the "massive, crazy, unreal for a Friday, out of control amount of work to do"... the printer is going, the copy machine is waiting, and the envelopes are sitting waiting to be stuffed. But they don't get mailed until Monday. And there are only 60.
SIXTY!!!
I might take a normal lunch break today after all.
Oh, and did I mention I didn't get ANY hour of consecutive sleep last night and part of the lateness this morning was that a roomie from downstairs decided my shower was her's at 7:30am causing me to roll over and pass out until 9am??!?!?! Yeah, THAT, then the dog fight, then the coworkers jabs, And the temp agency dude jabs, and thinking I had a ton of work to get me to forget I didn't sleep last night and here it is 12:30pm and I am nearly finished.
Bah Humbug.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Violated
I spent the weekend out of town. Well, that was the big thing I did this weekend anyway. I was invited to meet a fairly new friend two hours away for a dinner and support of his friends band in a bar. I accepted under the pretense that I consistantly can NOT fully enjoy my Tivo/dog cuddle/vodka drink/PJ clad weekends because I know there is more to life than sitting on the couch when your able body and overactively fatasy ridden mind have all the possibilities of Southern California that a big wide smile can get into - and I Tivo. So I did two loads of laundry, packed a bag, and headed off to find out it was a three and a half hour drive into the sunset gleaming off the ocean of Santa Barbara (sounds nice, but not for driving I PROMISE) to get to wait for an hour at the only place in his town worthy of stuffing our faces at and leaving three songs into the three hours late set of his band. And he passed out when we got to bed. Fan bloody tastic.
In the morning I slept in, showered, had his mom make me a ham sandwich (yep, I met the parents and everything) before waiting through half an hour of football commercials before announcing if this was all he had to offer I would be leaving now. And as I pulled out of the driveway and onto the highway, it hit me. A heavy burden rested over my straight posture and 10 and 2 positioning, reminding me that there is the severe possibility (well, the feeling was more like "DOOM IMPENDING DOOM") of bad bad bad things to come. Like I would get pulled over and my car would be impounded or I would watch the waves and run off the road and over the cliff side to meet them or that one of these jokers at 90 mph would not merge with the half a second to spare they had been leaving themselves and I would be a first witness to a sprawl of car parts and bleeding people and spend the rest of the weekend repeating my testamony as to who's fault it was to the 14 cops who would be part of the clean up.
Alas, none of that happened. I had a heart attack coming around a corner on a massive downhill grade where my car refused to stick to the speed limit, but Mr. CHP stayed put and it only took me twenty miles to get my heart out of my throat. Since things were going pretty well, I refused to find a fast food joint 20 min from my house to piss in and raced upstairs quietly so as not to wake the dogs the instant I pulled into the driveway. Having Succeeded, I gave the pups a rubdown, got back outside and unloaded the empty water bottles, RockStar can, Carl's Jr. bag, my luggage and purse and coat, AND the 12 pack of soda my aunt gave me about two months ago that I have used as a stand for my muddy tennie shoes behind my seat.
Apparently I didn't make a second glance worth its two seconds. And I guess a year and a half knowing my automatic locks are possessed and simply won't stay locked about 3/4 the time is catching up with me. When I got into my car this morning my book of CDs, visor of CDs, and whatever tampons and nail files and bobby pins I had in my glove compartment had been ripped off. From my own driveway.
I felt raped.
And then I felt my gut S C R E A M I N G at me " I TOLD YOU SO - LISTEN!!!"
Its been a few times now that my car has bore the brunt of my facing down my existential quandries. I cracked the windshield the last time I went to visit the guy who thought take out chinese made up for the hour and a half each way I drove to his place. It was the last time because even THAT was too much to ask that trip. I still wear the crease in the back passanger door from when I thought spending time with the family would be a nice idea - and came out the next morning to a smashed car and no note. The passenger side has a scrape of worn paint on the wheelwell and side mirror from the parallel parking job in front of the apartment complex of the guy who said we were friends but dumped me for the woman I had dinner with that night. And the bumpers are both obviously worn from a myriad of small infractions of judgement that remind me of parties gone bad, roomates gone worse, and quick fixes that ruined the structure. These lessons I am reminded of Every time I wash Missy.
But, this is seriously the first time the inside has been abused in any way. Well, it hasn't been vaccuumed out since I got here and the moves and the dog and the take out have made their marks but that helps reveal the ME factor. I LIVED out of my car. It was my sanctuary of perfect treble to bass ratio, never moved by a guy seat, everything in reach right where I left it, and No One had anything to do with it but me.
And as I slid into my familiar this morning, the visor hit me in the forehead; the whole in the dash left wide open for me to see its emptyness.
And there was a whole new feeling of violation.
Beat up the outside. Fine. Its cosmetic and I'll fix it when I feel like it. Rip a bumper half off, chip the paint - whatever. Its just a little protection stripped away but I am still whole inside. Its still my car and my space when I get behind the wheel and manouver this beast of tin about the world. But to sit there and know someone was there...to look around and wonder if they were in my seat... took my sanctuary away.
Well, I did get the bad feeling about the car for this weekend ahead of time. And it materialized. Usually I see in hindsight that the car was simply a coincidental icing on the Fucked Situation cake I ate at that time. It was just some old CDs.
But what is it about my car getting fucked with when I am going through a Big Deal? And what about this weekend left me cosmetically intact but robbed from the inside?? OK, OK, maybe its not all that directly symbolic. But I did talk to Him on the way back into town and this morning I felt peices of me missing. And I immediately started coping with the grief; covering it up, rationalizing it away, being thankful for this reminder of what is really important; feeling hurt in places I didn't know I had. Just like every time I think of Him. Coincidence?
In the morning I slept in, showered, had his mom make me a ham sandwich (yep, I met the parents and everything) before waiting through half an hour of football commercials before announcing if this was all he had to offer I would be leaving now. And as I pulled out of the driveway and onto the highway, it hit me. A heavy burden rested over my straight posture and 10 and 2 positioning, reminding me that there is the severe possibility (well, the feeling was more like "DOOM IMPENDING DOOM") of bad bad bad things to come. Like I would get pulled over and my car would be impounded or I would watch the waves and run off the road and over the cliff side to meet them or that one of these jokers at 90 mph would not merge with the half a second to spare they had been leaving themselves and I would be a first witness to a sprawl of car parts and bleeding people and spend the rest of the weekend repeating my testamony as to who's fault it was to the 14 cops who would be part of the clean up.
Alas, none of that happened. I had a heart attack coming around a corner on a massive downhill grade where my car refused to stick to the speed limit, but Mr. CHP stayed put and it only took me twenty miles to get my heart out of my throat. Since things were going pretty well, I refused to find a fast food joint 20 min from my house to piss in and raced upstairs quietly so as not to wake the dogs the instant I pulled into the driveway. Having Succeeded, I gave the pups a rubdown, got back outside and unloaded the empty water bottles, RockStar can, Carl's Jr. bag, my luggage and purse and coat, AND the 12 pack of soda my aunt gave me about two months ago that I have used as a stand for my muddy tennie shoes behind my seat.
Apparently I didn't make a second glance worth its two seconds. And I guess a year and a half knowing my automatic locks are possessed and simply won't stay locked about 3/4 the time is catching up with me. When I got into my car this morning my book of CDs, visor of CDs, and whatever tampons and nail files and bobby pins I had in my glove compartment had been ripped off. From my own driveway.
I felt raped.
And then I felt my gut S C R E A M I N G at me " I TOLD YOU SO - LISTEN!!!"
Its been a few times now that my car has bore the brunt of my facing down my existential quandries. I cracked the windshield the last time I went to visit the guy who thought take out chinese made up for the hour and a half each way I drove to his place. It was the last time because even THAT was too much to ask that trip. I still wear the crease in the back passanger door from when I thought spending time with the family would be a nice idea - and came out the next morning to a smashed car and no note. The passenger side has a scrape of worn paint on the wheelwell and side mirror from the parallel parking job in front of the apartment complex of the guy who said we were friends but dumped me for the woman I had dinner with that night. And the bumpers are both obviously worn from a myriad of small infractions of judgement that remind me of parties gone bad, roomates gone worse, and quick fixes that ruined the structure. These lessons I am reminded of Every time I wash Missy.
But, this is seriously the first time the inside has been abused in any way. Well, it hasn't been vaccuumed out since I got here and the moves and the dog and the take out have made their marks but that helps reveal the ME factor. I LIVED out of my car. It was my sanctuary of perfect treble to bass ratio, never moved by a guy seat, everything in reach right where I left it, and No One had anything to do with it but me.
And as I slid into my familiar this morning, the visor hit me in the forehead; the whole in the dash left wide open for me to see its emptyness.
And there was a whole new feeling of violation.
Beat up the outside. Fine. Its cosmetic and I'll fix it when I feel like it. Rip a bumper half off, chip the paint - whatever. Its just a little protection stripped away but I am still whole inside. Its still my car and my space when I get behind the wheel and manouver this beast of tin about the world. But to sit there and know someone was there...to look around and wonder if they were in my seat... took my sanctuary away.
Well, I did get the bad feeling about the car for this weekend ahead of time. And it materialized. Usually I see in hindsight that the car was simply a coincidental icing on the Fucked Situation cake I ate at that time. It was just some old CDs.
But what is it about my car getting fucked with when I am going through a Big Deal? And what about this weekend left me cosmetically intact but robbed from the inside?? OK, OK, maybe its not all that directly symbolic. But I did talk to Him on the way back into town and this morning I felt peices of me missing. And I immediately started coping with the grief; covering it up, rationalizing it away, being thankful for this reminder of what is really important; feeling hurt in places I didn't know I had. Just like every time I think of Him. Coincidence?
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Gym Rats Rock
Its been my recent experience to be overly cynical of the beautiful people that populate my vacinity. I talk myself into loving the voluptuousness I've carried since puberty, find the natural highlights in my hair to avoid costly salon bills, buy $5 tweezers and razors to keep up with the trends in bare minimum hygene, reapply my lip gloss every time I pass a mirror.
This has been the conditioned effect of never quite fitting in with The Pretty People.
I try, but barely, to blend in... my morning routine includes a blowdryer to keep my clothes dry and not much else, the makeup is a step but its more a mask over of the acne skin I still fight with. When it comes down to it I find there must be more than physical attributes that make me worth while. Another defense mechanism the loners in sweatshirts in the corner tell themselves.
The trick is to be pretty enough to get the attention of the Pretty People so they want to find out what personality is behind the smile. Its happened to me, and it feels stupendous to be attended to by people who ooze charisma. But somehow I still get left, with all the personality that develops watching the Pretty People pass you over, for the blonde gigglefit in a miniskirt.
But I know it has always been a ruse. I've always been jealous of these people The ones who wanted to take an hour a day to beautify themselves. I want to be polished every time I was seen. I want to roll the top of my sweats down and wear a cami and have it be the most flattering outfit I can find. I want to have hair that flows perfectly. I want to abandon my need for 15 minutes of makeup to give me flawless skin and a healthy glow.
I want my secret to be beauty sleep instead of horded cookies.
I want to stop spouting the fat girl mantra of Real Women Have Curves when I look in the mirror. I realize now this is a coverup. I am holding these 25 pounds as a security blanket to hide under so life doesn't hurt so much; so I don't have to feel rejected when I get passed over; to use as an excuse when I am told they love me but leave me anyway.
This all came to a head when I sat across a tiny desk in a thumping Beauty Factory known as the So. Cal gym. I was being looked in the eye by a near stranger. His arms stretching the sleeves of his company issue tshirt. His veins still swollen from the demo curls we just finished. He'd given me an hours worth of expertise of the equipment, the human body, the hidden insecurities of women, the tricks of the trade, the perks of being a Pretty Person. He sat with my profile under his arms, leaned in, and said "you've got absolutely no reason you can't be a totally different person in 3 months. You have great form. You get it. You're flexible enough to show me your muscles can take the work. The stregth will come. If you want it, you can do it. Quickly. Come in for an hour - make it the time you do something for YOU - leave it on the floor; fatigue yourself every set... you won't be able to wear anything in your closet before you can realize whats happened to you."
I took a deep breath. I smiled because thats what I do when I'm nervous. He maintained his resolve. He sat back and waited for me to look him in the eye again. "You can do this if you want it. I can help you." I knew he was right.
I was told in junior high I could be that girl in high school with a spring in her step and a constant smile who gets carried to her boyfriends convertable to dash off to the bonfire parties where everyone wants to sit with me just to say they were with ME. When that didn't happen, when I was nearly the exact opposite, I decided not to think about who I would be in the future so I wouldn't have to feel that disappointment again.
Well you know what?? Screw that. I can see that what I've been thinking about, I've been bringing about. In EVERY part of my life. Still I hide in my insulating blubber. I'm done with it. I'm gonna take the power of conviction from Mr. Personal Trainer to heart. I saw him studying my curves; felt his hands on my flexed bicep, tightened deltoids, rounded belly, squatting quads; heard the sincerity of his words. I could see him drinking me in, knowing soon I would be evolve my good posture into standing tall in my stregth of body and self worth.
And I started. Thats right byotch. He made his pitch, gave me his business card, and I got on that damned machine in the back row and added 10 minutes to my record from two days ago - on a setting 4 levels harder than two days ago.
And it was a struggle to get up the stairs when I got home.
And I smiled about it.
I have flipped a switch. I'm not waiting for Him to prove he's good enough to be in my life, I'm not waiting for my sister to return to treating me like a person and not a bank account, I'm not hoping to create friends from a month old conversation, I'm not wishing for a full time permanent position, I'm not worried about starting a retirement account. I won't wait for the Pretty People to notice me to hinge my self esteem on. I am now about Planning AND Acting. Speaking AND Doing. Starting AND Finishing.
Comfort Zones are for lazy Sunday Mornings. The rest of the week is for making the most of life.
Pretty People Beware: I'm joining your ranks. And I'll be snubbing you for never having to have a thought to back up your beauty with. And then demanding you be the best YOU can be - because if I can do it so can you.
Watch Out. I'm about to catapult into the next version of me. And all the fear I've used to keep me on the couch has turned to venom at not already being the best I know I can be.
This has been the conditioned effect of never quite fitting in with The Pretty People.
I try, but barely, to blend in... my morning routine includes a blowdryer to keep my clothes dry and not much else, the makeup is a step but its more a mask over of the acne skin I still fight with. When it comes down to it I find there must be more than physical attributes that make me worth while. Another defense mechanism the loners in sweatshirts in the corner tell themselves.
The trick is to be pretty enough to get the attention of the Pretty People so they want to find out what personality is behind the smile. Its happened to me, and it feels stupendous to be attended to by people who ooze charisma. But somehow I still get left, with all the personality that develops watching the Pretty People pass you over, for the blonde gigglefit in a miniskirt.
But I know it has always been a ruse. I've always been jealous of these people The ones who wanted to take an hour a day to beautify themselves. I want to be polished every time I was seen. I want to roll the top of my sweats down and wear a cami and have it be the most flattering outfit I can find. I want to have hair that flows perfectly. I want to abandon my need for 15 minutes of makeup to give me flawless skin and a healthy glow.
I want my secret to be beauty sleep instead of horded cookies.
I want to stop spouting the fat girl mantra of Real Women Have Curves when I look in the mirror. I realize now this is a coverup. I am holding these 25 pounds as a security blanket to hide under so life doesn't hurt so much; so I don't have to feel rejected when I get passed over; to use as an excuse when I am told they love me but leave me anyway.
This all came to a head when I sat across a tiny desk in a thumping Beauty Factory known as the So. Cal gym. I was being looked in the eye by a near stranger. His arms stretching the sleeves of his company issue tshirt. His veins still swollen from the demo curls we just finished. He'd given me an hours worth of expertise of the equipment, the human body, the hidden insecurities of women, the tricks of the trade, the perks of being a Pretty Person. He sat with my profile under his arms, leaned in, and said "you've got absolutely no reason you can't be a totally different person in 3 months. You have great form. You get it. You're flexible enough to show me your muscles can take the work. The stregth will come. If you want it, you can do it. Quickly. Come in for an hour - make it the time you do something for YOU - leave it on the floor; fatigue yourself every set... you won't be able to wear anything in your closet before you can realize whats happened to you."
I took a deep breath. I smiled because thats what I do when I'm nervous. He maintained his resolve. He sat back and waited for me to look him in the eye again. "You can do this if you want it. I can help you." I knew he was right.
I was told in junior high I could be that girl in high school with a spring in her step and a constant smile who gets carried to her boyfriends convertable to dash off to the bonfire parties where everyone wants to sit with me just to say they were with ME. When that didn't happen, when I was nearly the exact opposite, I decided not to think about who I would be in the future so I wouldn't have to feel that disappointment again.
Well you know what?? Screw that. I can see that what I've been thinking about, I've been bringing about. In EVERY part of my life. Still I hide in my insulating blubber. I'm done with it. I'm gonna take the power of conviction from Mr. Personal Trainer to heart. I saw him studying my curves; felt his hands on my flexed bicep, tightened deltoids, rounded belly, squatting quads; heard the sincerity of his words. I could see him drinking me in, knowing soon I would be evolve my good posture into standing tall in my stregth of body and self worth.
And I started. Thats right byotch. He made his pitch, gave me his business card, and I got on that damned machine in the back row and added 10 minutes to my record from two days ago - on a setting 4 levels harder than two days ago.
And it was a struggle to get up the stairs when I got home.
And I smiled about it.
I have flipped a switch. I'm not waiting for Him to prove he's good enough to be in my life, I'm not waiting for my sister to return to treating me like a person and not a bank account, I'm not hoping to create friends from a month old conversation, I'm not wishing for a full time permanent position, I'm not worried about starting a retirement account. I won't wait for the Pretty People to notice me to hinge my self esteem on. I am now about Planning AND Acting. Speaking AND Doing. Starting AND Finishing.
Comfort Zones are for lazy Sunday Mornings. The rest of the week is for making the most of life.
Pretty People Beware: I'm joining your ranks. And I'll be snubbing you for never having to have a thought to back up your beauty with. And then demanding you be the best YOU can be - because if I can do it so can you.
Watch Out. I'm about to catapult into the next version of me. And all the fear I've used to keep me on the couch has turned to venom at not already being the best I know I can be.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Microwaves Freak Me Out
First things first - if it weren't for a microwave and the food industry it supports, I would have starved or become a vegan years ago.
Having said that - how is it possible that 2 minutes can scald the outer edges of a mashed potato and gravy cup of heaven while leaving the inside a chilled brick while 20 seconds on a cookie can make the outer ring cooler than room tempurature but that middle chocolate chip worthy of Italian Mafia Torture the way it burns your unsuspecting tongue?
Love technology but... its weird. Thats all I'm sayin. Back me up. Or tell me what physical property of "warm it up all the way around and inside and out at the same time" I am missing.
Having said that - how is it possible that 2 minutes can scald the outer edges of a mashed potato and gravy cup of heaven while leaving the inside a chilled brick while 20 seconds on a cookie can make the outer ring cooler than room tempurature but that middle chocolate chip worthy of Italian Mafia Torture the way it burns your unsuspecting tongue?
Love technology but... its weird. Thats all I'm sayin. Back me up. Or tell me what physical property of "warm it up all the way around and inside and out at the same time" I am missing.
Is this the kind of guy...
who looks like he might say "I appreciate you getting back in touch with me. I'm in the middle of changing jobs. I have to say you can touch my chest but THATS IT. Its not you... I just can't get distracted right now." ????????????????????????
Now, I thought he was gay. I DID. But I had called him from 20 minutes away one night and with two chugged beers and a wink I had rugburn and short breath to Prove he knew what to do with a woman.
I admit it was my fault we lost touch. I got a new phone number and didn't transfer his number to the new address book - he would rather watch Rocky IV in a restaurant than look me in the face. Not my kinda date. If he'd have let me back to his place, I'd have been all over it. But he never did.
Either way, I saw this pic on a networking site and thought "how nice do I have to be for how long before I feel the power of those arms wrapped around my legs as he pulls me into those flexed abs and lets me feel their power where it counts?"
He's calling me after work ;)
Monday, November 28, 2005
Its a Family Holiday
I'm not sure when I realized that mine was a disfunctional family but it was solidified over this holiday weekend.
I now understand what a Cleaver type household FEELS like. To be at a table where the history and the love started and has remained the sparkle in the father's eye was an awakening. To have the laughs be at a siblings expense but to have the next visit planned two minutes later was like watching a miracle take place. To be in a home that this family grew together in, to see the chronology in the framed pictures that crowd the walls and tabletops, to feel the years in the air made me comfortable the instant I walked in.
The event was inspiring. I wasn't allowed to contribute anything. I was invited two hours after everyone so I could drive my own car and leave at will. My wine was always chilled in my plastic party cup; a full champagne awaited me in crystal at the dinner table. I was ordered to have seconds before the pie was served. I was given knowing winks across the table, a squeeze of the hand after grace, a hearty laugh at an under the breath comment, a great big hug with the "nice to meet you" goodbye.
I did talk to my family this week. The long distance ones were glad to hear I was doing well at my job, though they couldn't remember what it is that I do. The close ones didn't need to hear more than "coughs from the cubemate" to uninvite me and vocally snarl at not having an extra bank account RSVP to bring all the things they couldn't afford to put on the table. I didn't get two minutes from the more distant of the lot. I felt more closeness from the melencholy message He left than from the guilt tripping parental unit who was too busy cooking Wednesday nights dinner to notice the turmoil I overcome to return a phone call to his house. I was willing to forgive his naivete and be his daughter anyway. When he knew I wasn't coming to visit he lost interest in my plans for the long weekend; couldn't care what I have to be thankful for. He didn't hear have time for me. I had wanted to share and now I'm over it and he will never understand why we are not closer.
"Hello (insert real life name here), just calling to say Happy Thanksgiving. Hope your having a good day. I wish you well. Bye." Somehow that was more heartfelt and endearing and admirable and true than the whole hour and a half of voicemails and flippant comments from the ones who say they love me most. We chatted, laughed, complained and agreed about family weekends, felt the chaism between us strongly anchoring itself. He asked if I was ok with not being with my family; asked if I had anything to be thankful for; allowed me to hear the disenchantment of his life over a static ridden cell phone connection. We are understanding how unreasonable it is to expect the life we wanted together only a year ago. We still enjoy the few minutes of knowing each other, being open with each other. This is how I want to be with everyone in my life. Gloomily unnerving how he was the one person in four days who could offer ten minutes of heartfelt closeness and the one person I know I can't let myself love.
After two lazy leftover filled days, I returned to the family home for dinner again last night. Baked pork ribs, potatoes au gratin, green bean cassarole, cool whip pie and coffee for dessert. A warm hello, great big smiles, passing to the left, clearing the table before dad is finished picking at his plate. A few gifts for the household and a list of notes on how to care for the dog while the parents are away before we are allowed to leave... and a warm comfort of Family to add that holiday glow to my cheeks before a dreamless contented sleep.
I understand it now, the desire to build a family of one's own. My family was nothing to wish for - accept them for who they are and remember them at Christmas but nothing to crave. This family let me feel the comforts of their home. Their surrogacy will fill the want for knowing I am cared for; their kindness will fill my desire for a knowing there is good in the people around me. I am reverently thankful for their warm hearts and acceptance me, a relative vagabond.
And That is the most I could ever hope for on a holiday weekend.
I now understand what a Cleaver type household FEELS like. To be at a table where the history and the love started and has remained the sparkle in the father's eye was an awakening. To have the laughs be at a siblings expense but to have the next visit planned two minutes later was like watching a miracle take place. To be in a home that this family grew together in, to see the chronology in the framed pictures that crowd the walls and tabletops, to feel the years in the air made me comfortable the instant I walked in.
The event was inspiring. I wasn't allowed to contribute anything. I was invited two hours after everyone so I could drive my own car and leave at will. My wine was always chilled in my plastic party cup; a full champagne awaited me in crystal at the dinner table. I was ordered to have seconds before the pie was served. I was given knowing winks across the table, a squeeze of the hand after grace, a hearty laugh at an under the breath comment, a great big hug with the "nice to meet you" goodbye.
I did talk to my family this week. The long distance ones were glad to hear I was doing well at my job, though they couldn't remember what it is that I do. The close ones didn't need to hear more than "coughs from the cubemate" to uninvite me and vocally snarl at not having an extra bank account RSVP to bring all the things they couldn't afford to put on the table. I didn't get two minutes from the more distant of the lot. I felt more closeness from the melencholy message He left than from the guilt tripping parental unit who was too busy cooking Wednesday nights dinner to notice the turmoil I overcome to return a phone call to his house. I was willing to forgive his naivete and be his daughter anyway. When he knew I wasn't coming to visit he lost interest in my plans for the long weekend; couldn't care what I have to be thankful for. He didn't hear have time for me. I had wanted to share and now I'm over it and he will never understand why we are not closer.
"Hello (insert real life name here), just calling to say Happy Thanksgiving. Hope your having a good day. I wish you well. Bye." Somehow that was more heartfelt and endearing and admirable and true than the whole hour and a half of voicemails and flippant comments from the ones who say they love me most. We chatted, laughed, complained and agreed about family weekends, felt the chaism between us strongly anchoring itself. He asked if I was ok with not being with my family; asked if I had anything to be thankful for; allowed me to hear the disenchantment of his life over a static ridden cell phone connection. We are understanding how unreasonable it is to expect the life we wanted together only a year ago. We still enjoy the few minutes of knowing each other, being open with each other. This is how I want to be with everyone in my life. Gloomily unnerving how he was the one person in four days who could offer ten minutes of heartfelt closeness and the one person I know I can't let myself love.
After two lazy leftover filled days, I returned to the family home for dinner again last night. Baked pork ribs, potatoes au gratin, green bean cassarole, cool whip pie and coffee for dessert. A warm hello, great big smiles, passing to the left, clearing the table before dad is finished picking at his plate. A few gifts for the household and a list of notes on how to care for the dog while the parents are away before we are allowed to leave... and a warm comfort of Family to add that holiday glow to my cheeks before a dreamless contented sleep.
I understand it now, the desire to build a family of one's own. My family was nothing to wish for - accept them for who they are and remember them at Christmas but nothing to crave. This family let me feel the comforts of their home. Their surrogacy will fill the want for knowing I am cared for; their kindness will fill my desire for a knowing there is good in the people around me. I am reverently thankful for their warm hearts and acceptance me, a relative vagabond.
And That is the most I could ever hope for on a holiday weekend.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Help Me - I want a Better Blog
I had the time and I played with finding pictures and posting them next to all the comments of todays other post but I just don't get it. I added a list of new pics and none of them but the first came up - and that was an empty box!!!
I DID figure out how to turn the words blue so you can click on them and link to what I'm talking about... =) Big Yeah!! I am feeling real on top of things since this site is obviously built to be easy to use and I can't figure it out.
Or maybe this is the perfect opportunity to bat my lashes at the Techies and have them not report that I blog at work while they help me understand these darnded 'pooters?? The one last week asked if I would apply to work with them... he's prime for the noggin picken for Sure!!
Seriously folks, it can't be hard. I'm at a mental agility low and am not reading any stinkin help page to get me out of it =) Just pat me on the head and tell my cursor where to point and I'll get some awsomely appropriate, clever, entertaining pics to go along with the next few mind pours, ok?
I DID figure out how to turn the words blue so you can click on them and link to what I'm talking about... =) Big Yeah!! I am feeling real on top of things since this site is obviously built to be easy to use and I can't figure it out.
Or maybe this is the perfect opportunity to bat my lashes at the Techies and have them not report that I blog at work while they help me understand these darnded 'pooters?? The one last week asked if I would apply to work with them... he's prime for the noggin picken for Sure!!
Seriously folks, it can't be hard. I'm at a mental agility low and am not reading any stinkin help page to get me out of it =) Just pat me on the head and tell my cursor where to point and I'll get some awsomely appropriate, clever, entertaining pics to go along with the next few mind pours, ok?
Thoughts of the Day
Its the week of a holiday and apparently my department decided to take the entire week off; I have nothing to do. Others seem to be working, but I at the bottom of the hill of shit to roll down have successfully moved the manuer piles as they come at me and am now left with nothing to do but muse.
Thought One to Chew On: I met a guy for dinner last night that I'd never met before. He read my online profile (that I wrote of myself in an astonishingly honest and upbeat mood), emailed me for two days (where we talked of much but mostly how much I rock and how he so wants to spend time with me), got consent for the date (when I refused to divulge experiental data online and demanded an address to meet him at), and after all that me-talking-about-me his assessment of me at near first glance (as his impression was made of me and the picture posted of me laughing wildly in a mall six months ago) was "under rated".
I'm a little confused because I didn't once flaunt that I graduated University and have been at menial desk jobs since. Never spouted at how I never complained at the dishes in the sink when all the roomies I've ever had pick this as the worst offense. Didn't brag at my standardized test scores or my enrollment in special classes to keep me from turning to drugs for stimulation. Not once did I foreshadow my desire to be great in the very near future or the possibility that I am in a position at my company where they can see my potential and use it instead of wait for me to get bored and leave.
He had no explanation to support his phrase. And its been on my mind since it fell out of his mouth. He also had no support for "its your face - people think you party because of how you look" as I looked down at my half size too big jeans, kahki and white tennies, and spring colored pinstriped shirt with my hair in a 50's style single ponytail and moderate-to-look-natural makeup. Not sure why this guys assessment is sticking with me, but maybe he cfame into my life to buy me sushi and Sapporo and thought nuggets that get stuck in my brain for a bit.
Thought Two to Chew On: Is consideration really a sliding scale of a personality trait or is it a pass/fail test?? For your consideration...
Miss Menthol is one to take an incoming call on her cell phone, start it at her desk, decide its rude and rush to take it outside, come back STILL TALKING, sit at her desk with both feet up on the computer, leaning back in her chair, flipping her hair furiously over my desk and demand "I have to go" only after she has emphatically forcefed her point to the sap on the other end as she hits End to make her point the last given. She will then let out a "Sheesh" and describe to me the whole conversation no matter what I am doing- unless I don't look up, in which case she "hurmph"s loudly and goes about her business. This is surely a part of her day she could modify to be ACTUALLY considerate if in fact we are on a sliding scale model. She obviously knows shes participating in a possibly inconsiderate activity or why else would she leave for the duration of the body of the conversation? Oh, she is just so important no one should hear what she has to say until she gives the final report two seconds after hanging up.
Also, I have a roomate who does not understand cohabitation. There is no reason for her to see a room with a conversation happening as anything besides a room with a computer she wants to be at. To check her email. For the fourth time in the hour. To see if the guy on the other side of the world woke up and emailed her yet. She can not comprehend that if she is at said computer and the cat who lives exclusively in that room wants to eat, he will just walk the table in his normal fashion with no regard that she is watching the monitor. As if she wasn't there. To her, there is no respect for her being there and how dare he act as if the room was only there for his purposes. As she finally acknowledges the two humans in the room (15 minutes since her entry) to complain of devilish the cat who obviously needs to be trained respect her presence, she finds two animal lovers (strike one) who avoided a conversation mid sentance because she walked into the room (strike two) with mouths agape at her need to talk over the tangential conversation just to complain that her IM date was interupted by a damn cat who ::gasp:: wanted to be the center of attention for two seconds while grabbing a bite (strike three). She left in a huff that we were not more agreeable to her plight.
This indifference to any other mammals right to exist in the space deemed theirs at the moment would have me believeing consideration is in fact a yes or no question to answer on the MMPI. Though I find my personal habits of consideration to be more of a sliding scale... like some days I ask the dog "excuse me please" and other days I start with the side of my foot pushing the hind end out of my way and only when they (there are two dogs I will do this to) stand up do I say "thanks, dang!"
Thought Three to Chew On: I have taken to having a big bottle of our "filtered" office water that tastes like stale ass at room tempurature at my desk and filling a full ice cup as my hydration source. I used to refill the 6oz cup in the kitchen as many times a day as I could remember; the evolution provides a much superior method. Here's the thought - there is something about pouring my desired drink from a bottle over resting ice that is akin to my weekend of pouring from the bottle of vodka over ice. Is it that I have figured out a way to avoid the afternoon thirsties or that I so want the ritual involved in drinking so much it has overlapped into my work day?
Thought Four to Chew On: The flu is going around my office. When Aunt Flow brought her torture devices last week, I left early and the office assumed I caught the bug. I insisted I was healthy and that this month's rendition of "so you didn't get pregnant AGAIN?!?!?" was being an especially rowdy performance, but they only heard 'sick' and dismissed me eagerly.
Today I can hear an obviously not allergy induced sneeze across the cubicle hallway, a wheeze from the office behind me, a stuffy head kiddycorner, and from My Miss Menthol a cough that screams bronchitis which I know very affectionately as the Maja Rumble. My grandma had the same constantly sick lungs being smoked over the entire time I knew her and she sounded exactly the same as the woman who shares my 18 square feet 7 hrs a day. The problem with this is that I can't catch smokers cough - I can catch a chest cold to mimic the sound. And with the "everyone is sick" thoughts around here, all I can think is "I'm Healthy" as a mantra to keep their negative thoughts and virus loaded exhales from sinking in at my holiday dinner.
Thought Five to Chew On: If I spend this Thanksgiving with a family and not my family, is there anything wrong with that? There is bound to be rash judgements, mountains of food, plenty of inside jokes and a swarm of sidelong glances and winks - just like any family get together of mine - and I will be welcomed as part of theirs with open arms... but they are not my bloodline. Its not that my family isn't around or that I haven't been invited. I would rather go to a home I've never been in to eat a cerimonial meal with people I've only heard of and participate in razing insecurities of near strangers while asking them to pass the unfamiliar mashed potatoes and pour me another glass of wine. Seriously, is there any reason to think a guilty thought on this subject?
Thought Six to Chew On: If my spiffy new phone/iPod can hold 100 songs but I only uploaded six albums this weekend, how many times can I listen to the same album I've already listened to once a week for over a year before I 1)don't hear it anymore and its used solely for drowning out the sicky noises or 2)I can't stand the sounds anymore and I must listen to the sicky noises for fear of pulling my ears off?
All this thinking has really got me hungry. I'm going to raid the leftovers from the conference room for bite sized brownies and chicken salad and find a schedule of gym classes to plan the ones I'll go to. And if my duplicitous actions (well planned out I'll have you notice) have you wondering if I've fallen off my rocker, check out Avatar's description of a perfect woman and revel in the glory that is Pretty Damn Close.
Thought One to Chew On: I met a guy for dinner last night that I'd never met before. He read my online profile (that I wrote of myself in an astonishingly honest and upbeat mood), emailed me for two days (where we talked of much but mostly how much I rock and how he so wants to spend time with me), got consent for the date (when I refused to divulge experiental data online and demanded an address to meet him at), and after all that me-talking-about-me his assessment of me at near first glance (as his impression was made of me and the picture posted of me laughing wildly in a mall six months ago) was "under rated".
I'm a little confused because I didn't once flaunt that I graduated University and have been at menial desk jobs since. Never spouted at how I never complained at the dishes in the sink when all the roomies I've ever had pick this as the worst offense. Didn't brag at my standardized test scores or my enrollment in special classes to keep me from turning to drugs for stimulation. Not once did I foreshadow my desire to be great in the very near future or the possibility that I am in a position at my company where they can see my potential and use it instead of wait for me to get bored and leave.
He had no explanation to support his phrase. And its been on my mind since it fell out of his mouth. He also had no support for "its your face - people think you party because of how you look" as I looked down at my half size too big jeans, kahki and white tennies, and spring colored pinstriped shirt with my hair in a 50's style single ponytail and moderate-to-look-natural makeup. Not sure why this guys assessment is sticking with me, but maybe he cfame into my life to buy me sushi and Sapporo and thought nuggets that get stuck in my brain for a bit.
Thought Two to Chew On: Is consideration really a sliding scale of a personality trait or is it a pass/fail test?? For your consideration...
Miss Menthol is one to take an incoming call on her cell phone, start it at her desk, decide its rude and rush to take it outside, come back STILL TALKING, sit at her desk with both feet up on the computer, leaning back in her chair, flipping her hair furiously over my desk and demand "I have to go" only after she has emphatically forcefed her point to the sap on the other end as she hits End to make her point the last given. She will then let out a "Sheesh" and describe to me the whole conversation no matter what I am doing- unless I don't look up, in which case she "hurmph"s loudly and goes about her business. This is surely a part of her day she could modify to be ACTUALLY considerate if in fact we are on a sliding scale model. She obviously knows shes participating in a possibly inconsiderate activity or why else would she leave for the duration of the body of the conversation? Oh, she is just so important no one should hear what she has to say until she gives the final report two seconds after hanging up.
Also, I have a roomate who does not understand cohabitation. There is no reason for her to see a room with a conversation happening as anything besides a room with a computer she wants to be at. To check her email. For the fourth time in the hour. To see if the guy on the other side of the world woke up and emailed her yet. She can not comprehend that if she is at said computer and the cat who lives exclusively in that room wants to eat, he will just walk the table in his normal fashion with no regard that she is watching the monitor. As if she wasn't there. To her, there is no respect for her being there and how dare he act as if the room was only there for his purposes. As she finally acknowledges the two humans in the room (15 minutes since her entry) to complain of devilish the cat who obviously needs to be trained respect her presence, she finds two animal lovers (strike one) who avoided a conversation mid sentance because she walked into the room (strike two) with mouths agape at her need to talk over the tangential conversation just to complain that her IM date was interupted by a damn cat who ::gasp:: wanted to be the center of attention for two seconds while grabbing a bite (strike three). She left in a huff that we were not more agreeable to her plight.
This indifference to any other mammals right to exist in the space deemed theirs at the moment would have me believeing consideration is in fact a yes or no question to answer on the MMPI. Though I find my personal habits of consideration to be more of a sliding scale... like some days I ask the dog "excuse me please" and other days I start with the side of my foot pushing the hind end out of my way and only when they (there are two dogs I will do this to) stand up do I say "thanks, dang!"
Thought Three to Chew On: I have taken to having a big bottle of our "filtered" office water that tastes like stale ass at room tempurature at my desk and filling a full ice cup as my hydration source. I used to refill the 6oz cup in the kitchen as many times a day as I could remember; the evolution provides a much superior method. Here's the thought - there is something about pouring my desired drink from a bottle over resting ice that is akin to my weekend of pouring from the bottle of vodka over ice. Is it that I have figured out a way to avoid the afternoon thirsties or that I so want the ritual involved in drinking so much it has overlapped into my work day?
Thought Four to Chew On: The flu is going around my office. When Aunt Flow brought her torture devices last week, I left early and the office assumed I caught the bug. I insisted I was healthy and that this month's rendition of "so you didn't get pregnant AGAIN?!?!?" was being an especially rowdy performance, but they only heard 'sick' and dismissed me eagerly.
Today I can hear an obviously not allergy induced sneeze across the cubicle hallway, a wheeze from the office behind me, a stuffy head kiddycorner, and from My Miss Menthol a cough that screams bronchitis which I know very affectionately as the Maja Rumble. My grandma had the same constantly sick lungs being smoked over the entire time I knew her and she sounded exactly the same as the woman who shares my 18 square feet 7 hrs a day. The problem with this is that I can't catch smokers cough - I can catch a chest cold to mimic the sound. And with the "everyone is sick" thoughts around here, all I can think is "I'm Healthy" as a mantra to keep their negative thoughts and virus loaded exhales from sinking in at my holiday dinner.
Thought Five to Chew On: If I spend this Thanksgiving with a family and not my family, is there anything wrong with that? There is bound to be rash judgements, mountains of food, plenty of inside jokes and a swarm of sidelong glances and winks - just like any family get together of mine - and I will be welcomed as part of theirs with open arms... but they are not my bloodline. Its not that my family isn't around or that I haven't been invited. I would rather go to a home I've never been in to eat a cerimonial meal with people I've only heard of and participate in razing insecurities of near strangers while asking them to pass the unfamiliar mashed potatoes and pour me another glass of wine. Seriously, is there any reason to think a guilty thought on this subject?
Thought Six to Chew On: If my spiffy new phone/iPod can hold 100 songs but I only uploaded six albums this weekend, how many times can I listen to the same album I've already listened to once a week for over a year before I 1)don't hear it anymore and its used solely for drowning out the sicky noises or 2)I can't stand the sounds anymore and I must listen to the sicky noises for fear of pulling my ears off?
All this thinking has really got me hungry. I'm going to raid the leftovers from the conference room for bite sized brownies and chicken salad and find a schedule of gym classes to plan the ones I'll go to. And if my duplicitous actions (well planned out I'll have you notice) have you wondering if I've fallen off my rocker, check out Avatar's description of a perfect woman and revel in the glory that is Pretty Damn Close.
Monday, November 21, 2005
The Blues
I recently read that 80% of the US population die within a 20 mile radius of their birthplace. I am not sure when that study was conducted but it wasn't more than 10 years ago if memory serves.
This afternoon I took a very late and very very short lunch break (ah, the joys of getting to work half an hour late!!) and realized that my days have been feeling like I am missing something. As the microwave of leftovers beeped in completion, I took my bowl of chicken pesto pasta outside.
The chairs and tables in our courtyard have been replaced since I visited last... indeed its since the time change I haven't taken a full lunch break except on Fridays when payday errands demand it.
My eyes hit the skyline. It was dusted with the tips of the trees leaves turning with the autumn air, looking crisp as the sun gleamed off the rocks of the facing baren mountainside. And the glow of the that sure sky blue behind the dogwood blooms as I took my seat warmed my entire senses. In one breath I took in the shade of Crayola never quite attained. My gaze lingered a bit, then rolled over the mountaintop to find more and more spirit quenching hues to take in on this quiet afternoon.
As I scraped the bottom of the bowl for the last drenched morsel of my meal I felt the almost chill breeze flip my hair. The storm clouds were on the move, giving contrast where the sunbeams had warmed the earth. I took my moment, sat watching the colors morph into more perfect representations of my favorite color.
Perhaps this is what is really meant by the comforts of home... My childhood memories based only 30 miles from here.
This afternoon I took a very late and very very short lunch break (ah, the joys of getting to work half an hour late!!) and realized that my days have been feeling like I am missing something. As the microwave of leftovers beeped in completion, I took my bowl of chicken pesto pasta outside.
The chairs and tables in our courtyard have been replaced since I visited last... indeed its since the time change I haven't taken a full lunch break except on Fridays when payday errands demand it.
My eyes hit the skyline. It was dusted with the tips of the trees leaves turning with the autumn air, looking crisp as the sun gleamed off the rocks of the facing baren mountainside. And the glow of the that sure sky blue behind the dogwood blooms as I took my seat warmed my entire senses. In one breath I took in the shade of Crayola never quite attained. My gaze lingered a bit, then rolled over the mountaintop to find more and more spirit quenching hues to take in on this quiet afternoon.
As I scraped the bottom of the bowl for the last drenched morsel of my meal I felt the almost chill breeze flip my hair. The storm clouds were on the move, giving contrast where the sunbeams had warmed the earth. I took my moment, sat watching the colors morph into more perfect representations of my favorite color.
Perhaps this is what is really meant by the comforts of home... My childhood memories based only 30 miles from here.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Sticky Situation
PLEASE help me with this one folks...
I was asked to track down a file and did so with a quickness.
Upon delivery to her cube, I was greated with a smile and a tremendous thanks.
As I turned to leave, she whispers my name and waves me back into her cube.
"Do you smoke?" she asks pointedly.
"No, I don't." I reply inflectionless.
"I didn't think you did, but you smell like smoke." An emploring look comes across her face.
"My cubemate smokes." She winces. "Menthols" I continue in disgust. She sighs and closes her eyes to cut off the incoming information to deal with the monstrosity of a concept she has just been dealt.
So I thought it an inconvenince that I can't breath for four minutes every time Miss Menthol comes back from where ever she takes her cancer, but I am now up in arms that my barely worn and nearly worn out clothes can no longer come off my body and hang in the "worn but can be worn again" section of my closet (I'm am just that organized) due to 1) NOT being able to sit in the stench of someone elses addiction and 2) the bleed over factor to the rest of my closet is most undesireable. I am suddenly quite aware of my curled lip when I approach a stack of clothes with the intent of determining which part of the closet they go to... I thought it was just time for my body to change its scent again but now it is clear I was sniffing the tar and weeds of the green box I thought I could leave at the office.
How, pray tell, is the subject to be broached with my cubemate?? Surely I can not accept this intrusion of personal space... to have walked across the entire building and be reaking of smoke to get asked about it??!?!?!!? How vile I feel. What can I say to get this ick look off my face??
Oh, and only one short hour ago I was admiring myself in the full length mirror of the private bath, so proud of how my ensamble complimented my figure and skin tone to the point I forgot why I was there in the first place and took advantage of my willing self. And at this moment, as she grabs her satchel and tosses her locks and dashes for an outside area to further the insult I can't get my skin to stop crawling.
Help me in my quest to be ever considerate of others choices and gracious in my interactions... I can think of no sentance besides "I wasn't going to mention that you return with a pigpen-esqe cloud from your frequent breaks but I can not have the world thinking I participate in this particular habit... would you mind making a hot lap around the building after your finished burning that reprehensable roll of putrid carcinogens while fanning yourself and spraying FeBreeze so I don't have to?? Many thanks..."
I was asked to track down a file and did so with a quickness.
Upon delivery to her cube, I was greated with a smile and a tremendous thanks.
As I turned to leave, she whispers my name and waves me back into her cube.
"Do you smoke?" she asks pointedly.
"No, I don't." I reply inflectionless.
"I didn't think you did, but you smell like smoke." An emploring look comes across her face.
"My cubemate smokes." She winces. "Menthols" I continue in disgust. She sighs and closes her eyes to cut off the incoming information to deal with the monstrosity of a concept she has just been dealt.
So I thought it an inconvenince that I can't breath for four minutes every time Miss Menthol comes back from where ever she takes her cancer, but I am now up in arms that my barely worn and nearly worn out clothes can no longer come off my body and hang in the "worn but can be worn again" section of my closet (I'm am just that organized) due to 1) NOT being able to sit in the stench of someone elses addiction and 2) the bleed over factor to the rest of my closet is most undesireable. I am suddenly quite aware of my curled lip when I approach a stack of clothes with the intent of determining which part of the closet they go to... I thought it was just time for my body to change its scent again but now it is clear I was sniffing the tar and weeds of the green box I thought I could leave at the office.
How, pray tell, is the subject to be broached with my cubemate?? Surely I can not accept this intrusion of personal space... to have walked across the entire building and be reaking of smoke to get asked about it??!?!?!!? How vile I feel. What can I say to get this ick look off my face??
Oh, and only one short hour ago I was admiring myself in the full length mirror of the private bath, so proud of how my ensamble complimented my figure and skin tone to the point I forgot why I was there in the first place and took advantage of my willing self. And at this moment, as she grabs her satchel and tosses her locks and dashes for an outside area to further the insult I can't get my skin to stop crawling.
Help me in my quest to be ever considerate of others choices and gracious in my interactions... I can think of no sentance besides "I wasn't going to mention that you return with a pigpen-esqe cloud from your frequent breaks but I can not have the world thinking I participate in this particular habit... would you mind making a hot lap around the building after your finished burning that reprehensable roll of putrid carcinogens while fanning yourself and spraying FeBreeze so I don't have to?? Many thanks..."
Sex and Vodka
Flashbacks are lovely sometimes.
I distinctly remember a time in my life when the hard dreamless sleep induced by vodka and hard fast sex was rudely cut short by my day job which allowed me to support this habit. It was a short lived phase, lending quickly to intermitent reminders of why its either a full time lifestyle or reserved for weekends.
Today I have cause to remember the adrenyline rush that used to get me through these days. The wonderous Morning Riser Smoothie My Way from the joint across the street and the servers could always tell I wouldn't be needing the confirmation that two shots were my desire in the chocolate raspberry yougurt hangover cure. The girls in the office stopping in to dig for the details and giggle wildly as they rushed up the stairs to their desk covered in pictures of family life they had momentarily forgotten while pretending to live in my world. That sweet view of my bed in the setting sun when my commitment to the day of being a stand up contributing citizen was over and I could rest my aching eyes. The days when dinner was not necessary and neither were pajamas as the simple release of will power to remain upright was satisfactory to put me into a blissful sleep for a few hours.
I've sent my thank you note to the kind sir who gave cause for these reflections. He was gracious in his reception. I've drunk the heat of the sunshine in the backseat of my car and gave in to the desire to rest. I've appreciated my ability to find a haristyle that needs no effort to cover that it is not freshly washed or that it has just been slept in.
As I feel the afternoon caffeine and sugar circulating my mind wanders to the view of my bed at this time of day... under the window, the sun filtered by the blinds, a strong sunbeam across the askew pillows, blankets tossed about with enough of a crevice right near the top to grip with one directed and meaningful hand and fall into the freshly changes sheets that feel like a big t-shirt.
The countdown has begun. In a few short hours I will complete the trip down Memory Lane, having all the weary smiles of a hard treck victoriously completed again.
I guess some things I'm not too old for =)
I distinctly remember a time in my life when the hard dreamless sleep induced by vodka and hard fast sex was rudely cut short by my day job which allowed me to support this habit. It was a short lived phase, lending quickly to intermitent reminders of why its either a full time lifestyle or reserved for weekends.
Today I have cause to remember the adrenyline rush that used to get me through these days. The wonderous Morning Riser Smoothie My Way from the joint across the street and the servers could always tell I wouldn't be needing the confirmation that two shots were my desire in the chocolate raspberry yougurt hangover cure. The girls in the office stopping in to dig for the details and giggle wildly as they rushed up the stairs to their desk covered in pictures of family life they had momentarily forgotten while pretending to live in my world. That sweet view of my bed in the setting sun when my commitment to the day of being a stand up contributing citizen was over and I could rest my aching eyes. The days when dinner was not necessary and neither were pajamas as the simple release of will power to remain upright was satisfactory to put me into a blissful sleep for a few hours.
I've sent my thank you note to the kind sir who gave cause for these reflections. He was gracious in his reception. I've drunk the heat of the sunshine in the backseat of my car and gave in to the desire to rest. I've appreciated my ability to find a haristyle that needs no effort to cover that it is not freshly washed or that it has just been slept in.
As I feel the afternoon caffeine and sugar circulating my mind wanders to the view of my bed at this time of day... under the window, the sun filtered by the blinds, a strong sunbeam across the askew pillows, blankets tossed about with enough of a crevice right near the top to grip with one directed and meaningful hand and fall into the freshly changes sheets that feel like a big t-shirt.
The countdown has begun. In a few short hours I will complete the trip down Memory Lane, having all the weary smiles of a hard treck victoriously completed again.
I guess some things I'm not too old for =)
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Addiction
You know those days when you go to the coffee and you expect it to be the cheap sludge that even dinners won't use and you have to fill the cup half full of dry creamer and sugar cubes just to choke it down but you DO because there is no possible way you can sit at your desk and keep your eyes open for any more than 4.2 minutes without it and even though you know all those indigestion commercials will be very important to you in the fairly near future because of it you can't let go of the idea of not getting that warm cup of caffeine in you in the morning and when the day comes that you catch a gourmet in the kitchenette brewing what looks and smells and feels like actual real fresh java you stand and wait for the whole pot to brew just to be sure you don't have to deal with the rot gut junk that will surely be what this magnifisence is replaced with and there is just enough creamer left in the fridge to make it a smooth creamy barely sweetened with the aroma of french vanilla that makes your heart warm just to smell it... the day that your thermal mug gets filled and a paper cup just so you won't have to think in the afternoon of what a glorious morning fix you had and be so overwhelmingly disappointed with the goop of normal days when the afternoon sleepies need to be shoed away so you can manage to twitch your way through the last two or three hours of the day without realizing you didn't see the sunshine yet today and so you don't notice the greyness of the cubicle walls around you...
When this is the entire thought process repeated for two hours, you know your an addict.
And my company is my pusher.
Gotta Love Corporate America.
When this is the entire thought process repeated for two hours, you know your an addict.
And my company is my pusher.
Gotta Love Corporate America.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Being a Woman
I just love days when its warm enough to wear a skirt with no nylons.
Not only are the shoe options exponentially increased, there is something very scintillating about the feel of the fabric swishing across my bare ass as I walk through the building. (Thongs don't do much in the way of catching the breeze.)
Compoudly, I appreciate my knowledge of myself on days like this... the ones where my fuse is short in every aspect of life and my heartbeat is up a few points just to try to dilute the hormones in my brain. While my temper is ready for a spark, so is my work ethic and can do attitude. I am also prone to violent fits of sexual energy however; the kind that make a wink in the hallway plenty sufficient for a pounce. I'll admit the skirt isn't helping, and he hasn't winked today, but Big Red has emailed three times and Marvin Gaye came on the radio with "Lets Get It On" and it was all I could do not to ask him where he was going for lunch today!!
Ah, PMS... sometimes its just not that bad.
Not only are the shoe options exponentially increased, there is something very scintillating about the feel of the fabric swishing across my bare ass as I walk through the building. (Thongs don't do much in the way of catching the breeze.)
Compoudly, I appreciate my knowledge of myself on days like this... the ones where my fuse is short in every aspect of life and my heartbeat is up a few points just to try to dilute the hormones in my brain. While my temper is ready for a spark, so is my work ethic and can do attitude. I am also prone to violent fits of sexual energy however; the kind that make a wink in the hallway plenty sufficient for a pounce. I'll admit the skirt isn't helping, and he hasn't winked today, but Big Red has emailed three times and Marvin Gaye came on the radio with "Lets Get It On" and it was all I could do not to ask him where he was going for lunch today!!
Ah, PMS... sometimes its just not that bad.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Sunday Morning
It's 8am on a Sunday and I woke up on my own. I may crawl back into bed but that my body is finally accepting my life's schedule is cause for celebration as much as it is cause for grief.
I knew some day I would cross the line and have a trait about me that was once delegated to "when you get older" and this is one of them. I have always been one to sleep for 12 hours if given the chance. There is only a tiny bit of remorse at missing the morning because all the fun I was missing was at night.
As I have grown up this last year, I realize that the person I am becoming doesn't see the night life as a priority. I haven't searched it out. I decided that my career is worth starting. I understand that sleep is neccessary but not a hobby. And here I sit on a weekend with no plans and consciousness. Strange indeed.
The house is quiet. I slept on the couch last night. One of the girls came in quite late and made a storm of kitchen noise but I was determined not to wake in a fit of anger and lie in bed for an hour trying to recover.
I didn't drink yesterday. Not one drop. I looked at the shelf of beer in my fridge and chose water. When I wanted to eat, I put on my shoes and went to the gym for half an hour. I broke my hairclip right there on the elliptical. When I came home I served myself fresh fruit salad and more water. And it came. That wave of remembering that you can avoid only as easily as a tsunami viewed from a beach house.
I didn't know why I called Him. I knew it was great that He called me. But I had nothing missing in my settled world. I decided one day that I would just hit send to the text message and I was in a place where that was a command and not a reminder of bad service. And it was grand. He called every day of the week following, and somehow I wanted him around. I arranged it to make it easy on both of us. He came to me.
We kissed. We talked. We ate. We cuddled. We giggled. He was captive to my voice. I was captivated by his gaze. He wanted me upstairs. I followed. He showered. I showered. He had his shoes on when I came out. I stood in a towel, my ankles a bit chilled from the four drops left there to dry themselves, hearing how he is glad I am back and how wonderful a home cooked meal tasted and how lovely my home is as he kisses me tenderly in his shoes. I was in shock. He bought a book of behavior disorders to find out why he treats people so poorly so he can find out how to stop having regret in the morning and he is leaving me wide awake standing in a towel. I told Him I am right here and there is no reason to have regret in the morning; just stop. He had decided. I told Him to enjoy his regret since he so obviously prefers to say sorry in the morning than yes right now. He was glad I understood him so well. I walked Him out in my towel. It took three minutes for that truck to start. I have no reason to assume it wasn't for another girl on the phone and not a reconsideration of me. I didn't make it up the steps before the tears came. And they didn't stop.
I came out of it. I was covered in defeat. And I knew it wasn't me who was to blame. I was trying to regain that innocence that he forced me from last year. I wanted something familiar in my life. I wanted to see in him that I am the kind of woman that guys will think got away. He gave me all of that. And a reminder that I have grown up this year. That my world is no longer out of my hands. That I choose to make ME the center of my universe and not Him. I wanted Him to grow up too and our meeting would be on even ground. He hasn't grown and he pulled me down to his level. And it took one day to remember I am not who He thinks I am. I have grown up. And that is cause for celebration and also a moment of grief.
Today is a new day. The sky is blue. The air is crisp. The trees gently sway. I choose for this day to be filled with simple joys and light conversation and peace in the knowledge that I am an evolving maturation. And today I will grieve for the lost innocence. And I will celebrate the wisdom, self reliance, capabilities, and growing pains of being here as I am today.
I knew some day I would cross the line and have a trait about me that was once delegated to "when you get older" and this is one of them. I have always been one to sleep for 12 hours if given the chance. There is only a tiny bit of remorse at missing the morning because all the fun I was missing was at night.
As I have grown up this last year, I realize that the person I am becoming doesn't see the night life as a priority. I haven't searched it out. I decided that my career is worth starting. I understand that sleep is neccessary but not a hobby. And here I sit on a weekend with no plans and consciousness. Strange indeed.
The house is quiet. I slept on the couch last night. One of the girls came in quite late and made a storm of kitchen noise but I was determined not to wake in a fit of anger and lie in bed for an hour trying to recover.
I didn't drink yesterday. Not one drop. I looked at the shelf of beer in my fridge and chose water. When I wanted to eat, I put on my shoes and went to the gym for half an hour. I broke my hairclip right there on the elliptical. When I came home I served myself fresh fruit salad and more water. And it came. That wave of remembering that you can avoid only as easily as a tsunami viewed from a beach house.
I didn't know why I called Him. I knew it was great that He called me. But I had nothing missing in my settled world. I decided one day that I would just hit send to the text message and I was in a place where that was a command and not a reminder of bad service. And it was grand. He called every day of the week following, and somehow I wanted him around. I arranged it to make it easy on both of us. He came to me.
We kissed. We talked. We ate. We cuddled. We giggled. He was captive to my voice. I was captivated by his gaze. He wanted me upstairs. I followed. He showered. I showered. He had his shoes on when I came out. I stood in a towel, my ankles a bit chilled from the four drops left there to dry themselves, hearing how he is glad I am back and how wonderful a home cooked meal tasted and how lovely my home is as he kisses me tenderly in his shoes. I was in shock. He bought a book of behavior disorders to find out why he treats people so poorly so he can find out how to stop having regret in the morning and he is leaving me wide awake standing in a towel. I told Him I am right here and there is no reason to have regret in the morning; just stop. He had decided. I told Him to enjoy his regret since he so obviously prefers to say sorry in the morning than yes right now. He was glad I understood him so well. I walked Him out in my towel. It took three minutes for that truck to start. I have no reason to assume it wasn't for another girl on the phone and not a reconsideration of me. I didn't make it up the steps before the tears came. And they didn't stop.
I came out of it. I was covered in defeat. And I knew it wasn't me who was to blame. I was trying to regain that innocence that he forced me from last year. I wanted something familiar in my life. I wanted to see in him that I am the kind of woman that guys will think got away. He gave me all of that. And a reminder that I have grown up this year. That my world is no longer out of my hands. That I choose to make ME the center of my universe and not Him. I wanted Him to grow up too and our meeting would be on even ground. He hasn't grown and he pulled me down to his level. And it took one day to remember I am not who He thinks I am. I have grown up. And that is cause for celebration and also a moment of grief.
Today is a new day. The sky is blue. The air is crisp. The trees gently sway. I choose for this day to be filled with simple joys and light conversation and peace in the knowledge that I am an evolving maturation. And today I will grieve for the lost innocence. And I will celebrate the wisdom, self reliance, capabilities, and growing pains of being here as I am today.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
I found my smile
Yesterday was empowering.
I asserted myself to a customer service rep of my phone company.
I reasserted my independence by walking into another carrier with a bottom line and ending up with a Rockin brand new phone with all the gadgets to go with it.
Then I became a tech junkie and picked ring tones for two hours.
I read a few pages of my novel in bed with the slow methodical exhales of My Love (the dog) keeping time as the lines passed.
I had a full nights sleep last night.
I hit the snooze so many times I got an extra hours sleep this morning.
I pressed my leg up against My Love and she stretched against it. This always fosters peace in each of us.
I realized I would be late to work. I turned off all the alarms and rolled toward the door.
My eyes opened to see My Love stretched along my leg then the Clear Horizon shade of blue I picked for my rental repaint of the room followed by the oil painting I bought for myself for my college graduation and just below it a bulletin board with pictures of all the friends I left when I came here.
And it came. The tiny stress of the apple of my cheeks that pulls my face from the relaxed/angry/solomn/focused/depressed/introverted norm to an upbeat/perky/satisfied/contented/and yes relaxed but with Life face that I had lost somewhere.
Somehow my world in the last few days has evolved to produce a version of me that can roll over in the morning knowing another tardy is unavoidable and find a moment to smile in spite of absolutely all the ails of the world.
I woke up with a smile! As a bonafide night owl, this is miraculous!!
My cubemate and I were girls today. Chatting, conversing, relating, rolling our eyes together, shared laughs that got the adjoining cubemates to prairie dog just to find out what all the fun was about.
I successfully told the guys on the prowl to back off.
The Redhead emailed saying he thought I was being very cool and understanding and he really wants to be my friend and see you tomorrow.
I asked my fellow cube dweller a few disjointed questions only to be called back into her cube and read on her screen "if a permanent position were to open up in the department would you" before the overwhelming but barely audible "mmhhhmmhmhhhhmmmhhhmhmhmh" came pouring from me as I could find no words for the opportunity she was placing before me.
Everything I ate or drank today was complimentary =)
And to top it all, when I left the office and checked both my phones, I saw that He called. No message since the crossover apparently has some kinks... oh, but the victorious cripplingly overwhelming awe that comes when He is on the missed calls list!
And suddenly I realized I had thought as I looked at my surroundings this morning and that warm sensation came over my face: "the paint is the hue of His eyes".
Its near 1am now. I have been to both cell phone company stores, the gym to sign a new membership, home for complimentary dinner and conversation (thank you great roomies!), got a few chores done, finished clearing my room of any sign of a semi recent move, and took nearly an entire hour to be a girl in the bathroom while transforming into a naked dancing fool in a house to myself.
And I still have my smile. Any tiny recollection of any part of my day is turning up my cheeks and bearing teeth at this hour. I know I'm living a priviledged life. Somehow I had forgotten to take joy in it and have to fight to be pleasant in every day... but...
TODAY I found my Smile.
And I Feel Good.
I asserted myself to a customer service rep of my phone company.
I reasserted my independence by walking into another carrier with a bottom line and ending up with a Rockin brand new phone with all the gadgets to go with it.
Then I became a tech junkie and picked ring tones for two hours.
I read a few pages of my novel in bed with the slow methodical exhales of My Love (the dog) keeping time as the lines passed.
I had a full nights sleep last night.
I hit the snooze so many times I got an extra hours sleep this morning.
I pressed my leg up against My Love and she stretched against it. This always fosters peace in each of us.
I realized I would be late to work. I turned off all the alarms and rolled toward the door.
My eyes opened to see My Love stretched along my leg then the Clear Horizon shade of blue I picked for my rental repaint of the room followed by the oil painting I bought for myself for my college graduation and just below it a bulletin board with pictures of all the friends I left when I came here.
And it came. The tiny stress of the apple of my cheeks that pulls my face from the relaxed/angry/solomn/focused/depressed/introverted norm to an upbeat/perky/satisfied/contented/and yes relaxed but with Life face that I had lost somewhere.
Somehow my world in the last few days has evolved to produce a version of me that can roll over in the morning knowing another tardy is unavoidable and find a moment to smile in spite of absolutely all the ails of the world.
I woke up with a smile! As a bonafide night owl, this is miraculous!!
My cubemate and I were girls today. Chatting, conversing, relating, rolling our eyes together, shared laughs that got the adjoining cubemates to prairie dog just to find out what all the fun was about.
I successfully told the guys on the prowl to back off.
The Redhead emailed saying he thought I was being very cool and understanding and he really wants to be my friend and see you tomorrow.
I asked my fellow cube dweller a few disjointed questions only to be called back into her cube and read on her screen "if a permanent position were to open up in the department would you" before the overwhelming but barely audible "mmhhhmmhmhhhhmmmhhhmhmhmh" came pouring from me as I could find no words for the opportunity she was placing before me.
Everything I ate or drank today was complimentary =)
And to top it all, when I left the office and checked both my phones, I saw that He called. No message since the crossover apparently has some kinks... oh, but the victorious cripplingly overwhelming awe that comes when He is on the missed calls list!
And suddenly I realized I had thought as I looked at my surroundings this morning and that warm sensation came over my face: "the paint is the hue of His eyes".
Its near 1am now. I have been to both cell phone company stores, the gym to sign a new membership, home for complimentary dinner and conversation (thank you great roomies!), got a few chores done, finished clearing my room of any sign of a semi recent move, and took nearly an entire hour to be a girl in the bathroom while transforming into a naked dancing fool in a house to myself.
And I still have my smile. Any tiny recollection of any part of my day is turning up my cheeks and bearing teeth at this hour. I know I'm living a priviledged life. Somehow I had forgotten to take joy in it and have to fight to be pleasant in every day... but...
TODAY I found my Smile.
And I Feel Good.
Monday, November 07, 2005
This Monday Morning
Here's the thing... we had this monster project that had me here until 10pm every night the last two weeks of September and we've all been trying to catch up from that all October... and we kinda did by the last week and the whole department kinda took a deep breath and the work ethic let up. But I have only been here two months and am a temp at that so I am trying really really hard to make good impressions so I can get great recommendations when I apply for a permanent position. That won't be easy if they see I work great the first month and then sit on the work system and flirt all day after that =) I have lots of catch up to do since the rest of the 6 hours a day stuff was still coming to me the whole month I was dedicated to the monster... and with last weeks lax behavior my Friday personal deadline to clear my desk was a pipe dream.
So I am recommiting myself to my possible career this morning and every morning until the work gets done and promise that my social life is absolutely important but not my priority between 9am and 6pm. I do get a lunch break though ;)
--It is supremely hard to concentrate on filing and excel spreadsheets when you are getting social invites at 9am every day!!!! This is now my standard reply to all suitors who insist on badgering me via email with "hey, are you online?" followed by "I guess you can catch me later" and then a quick "I wanted to catch you this weekend; do you email on weekends?" Its a litany of one liners that fills up my inbox and creates the possibility of distraction from what was meant to be a productive morning!!! Boys... I'm at work - I don't bug you at work; leave me alone! I'll come say hi when I feel like it and that feeling is passing with every "Whats up".
So I am recommiting myself to my possible career this morning and every morning until the work gets done and promise that my social life is absolutely important but not my priority between 9am and 6pm. I do get a lunch break though ;)
--It is supremely hard to concentrate on filing and excel spreadsheets when you are getting social invites at 9am every day!!!! This is now my standard reply to all suitors who insist on badgering me via email with "hey, are you online?" followed by "I guess you can catch me later" and then a quick "I wanted to catch you this weekend; do you email on weekends?" Its a litany of one liners that fills up my inbox and creates the possibility of distraction from what was meant to be a productive morning!!! Boys... I'm at work - I don't bug you at work; leave me alone! I'll come say hi when I feel like it and that feeling is passing with every "Whats up".
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Saturday Night Ramblings
This is what happens when you check your email semi-late on a weekend night and get a "hey, how is your weekend going?" email from a girlfriend. Be forwarned...
Oh, and can anyone let me know how to find pictures, copy them, and enter them here?? Carry on, ...
Oh, got an email from Mr. Customer Survey. It was Wednesday sometime and along the lines of "guess I still suck at this; had a good time; guess bye then." Well, I guess some of the steam from my redheaded evening was lingering and transformed into anger because I let him HAVE IT! I don't remember all of it but it was kinda "you sure are arrogant to think that I would take off to a Halloween party (lie, but whatever, he caught me on IM) and have the energy or wits about me to partake in a survey... I told you I'd make it thoughtful so here are my thoughts... you need self confidence. You won't get it living with your mom. There are things in this world worse than roomates and they will give you tips on how to smile at a girl when she walks up to you - or any time in the next two hours you are with her." The reply back was "I'm a dork. I didn't see 40 Yr Old Virgin b/c I thought it would hit too close to home, just like your email did. I was just hoping to grope you this weekend. Damn weak facial muscles (actual last line)" Um, yeah. Not training that one!!
You heard about Big Red... for some reason it took two days for me to get that it wasn't about me at all. I wanted to be his friend and talk (well, email) and see how it was going but by the time Thursday morning came around I just sent a reply to whatever it was that "its cool... you know how to reach me whenever you want. Have a fantastic day". Not expecting anything from him before Christmas ;)
Its now Saturday night and my roomate just came home with a date. he reaks of cologne - that one kind that guys wear because it smells like them but more alcholic. And the dose... they just got out of the car together, why in Bobo's name would you walk out of a car and do that to yourself?? After hearing the conversation about how they would take off to get more red wine followed by that distinct I-finally-got-the-nerve-to-kiss-her pause - from the couch where I was trying to get in all my Tivo shows, I decide to take my evening upstairs. The afternoon alcohol has worn off, I've watched the movie I planned to, and really I shouldn't continue these late nights as the day job is starting to suffer. Well, they moved to the back porch where I can hear everything from my bedroom window and my not so subtle jesture of going upstairs was refused just as well as my wave through the window that it was TOO LOUD for 12:30 in the backyard. Stereo in the garage. Speaker straight out the door. She's deaf. And its not Mariah Carey but some rediculously whiney other wanna be sultry screech monkey.
She told me how it happened. She forgot her wallet and her car was half way through the car wash and this guy behind her picks up her tab. Why?? oh, shes blonde with a sqeeky laugh who flips her hair and doesn't realize until after the fact that she's forgotten her wallet!!!! oh, and 30 but tells people she's 25 and they buy it so she's had TWO 23 yr old b/f contenders since I've been here, one of whom was nuzzled up with her on the couch when I came home on um TUESDAY. She gives her card so he can tell her where and when to pay him back, he waives the fee and asks her out, she tells him to pick her up at the house for dinner in Malibu, and now they are here instead of some club.
And I decided not to be a lush and not have another tequila shot with my movie so I am fully awake after fighting the alcohol sleepies. And I can hear everything that is happening on their date!!
OK so I tell Big Sis (fave roomie who I share the upstairs and the bathroom with that is the mama bear of the house since she's the one who bought it with the ex-fiancee) that I didn't bring a boy over because I have a lot of roomates. She gave me the stern look of "you know that you can bring over whoever you want..." and I said "yeah, but I wasn't sure I wanted him here" and she said "well, you can use us as an exuse if you want to (big giggles and smiles had by all), but don't think you can't, OK?" Maybe she'll get the hint that I don't like her b/f here because of his booming voice and degrating 'baby' every three seconds and thank all things precious that she was on the rag the week he was proving she was important to him and would make the four block drive to her place for a change. Fortunately she is back on the sucked up on the boy phase and over there all day and night again. Really cuts in on my masterbation when there are others around, you know?? The point was that I am really considerate of others and that Miss In the Middle decides its ok to mack on whichever guy she has that night (not judging, just jealous) all over the house loudly and in public and then goes on to disturb the neighbors about it... I wish she would get back with the 1st 23 year old and stay at his place some more.
They just walked out - I'm gonna have a shot... want me to take one for you?? no huh. Oh, just the beer chaser?? Alrighty, see you in two min =)
Well, it was just him who left. No need to intoxicate myself into a coma. YEAH!!! EL YEAH!!! Gotta love cheeeeep rent folks, I tell ya. But I think I just talked myself out of a $1000 bender weekend in Vegas or a random $150 massage treatment or even the $500 I need a New Wardrobe romp... save cash. Put in account where it can grow. Feed it and nurture it and praise it and pet it and buy my own 2 br place in five years and NOT HAVE TO LISTEN TO ANYONE BUT ME KISSING IN MY HOUSE =) =) Well, the dog will lick her ass, but...
Last night I came home and picked up the dog and drove straight back toward work to pick up take out mexican. Blah beans but the enchilada sauce was alright. I called my cousin in Reno while waiting and got a "hi, you didn't tell me you weren't coming!!! fine, I see how you are!" Um, ok, I don't know what your talking about. OH R I G H T my aunt drove from LA to Reno on a Thursday for a long weekend before she gets back to work at a real job after a year and a half and the cousin and I were hatching a plan as to how I could sneak in a trip for a party weekend. So when I found out it would mean taking three days off work, I ruled it out. And then the aunt calls me Monday - three days before departure - and asks if I don't like taking trips alone anymore; assures me I will hate the idea when I get older; asks me if I wanna go. Didn't even try to think outside her thick skull to win me over with 'don't you want to see the family? Got a trip right here for ya!' just straight to "I'ma ascrrrred to be in a car alone and no one else I know will go; I guess books on tape will cut it... =( =( " I could just imagine us at the gas station and be goin 'you want what???' oooohhhhh better... the conversation that day about how her car has been acting funny and we can get mine tuned up when we get back!!! hahahahahaha Um, no.
So I get this ration of kicked in the face via phone call and a quick recap of all the seriously retarded things my aunt has done since she got there (always the drama queen, its always the most important thing for her to be in your town) and a promise that after dinner she'll call me at home (still no luck flirting with the cell phone place guy enough to wave the cancelation of contract fees because the small company with big minutes doens't have a tower to reach the top of the moutain with signal) to hear about what happened in my week that got me so distracted I didn't work in a phone call to repeat that I in fact would not be in the car coming from CA.
This family is great isn't it?? I get three conversations about a trip from the aunt and an invite only when it would be impossible for me to do anything besides call in sick and give myself a five day weekend and four conversations about how I would do all the work to get there but the party would be great and oh I have to make all the outgoing calls to set it up so she can get away from the rugrats for a night and she never called me to discuss details but gives me an earful about me not changing the original plan and no one thought to ask if I had called for any reason at all (I Never call without some juicy tidbit - she's too busy for more than 5 min ever and I just don't get any dirt from her including the dates she was an hour from me for a full week a month ago).
Its been a monster of a week. There is a noticeable pendulum swing in my life pattern and this week was a social one. In fact I had to check my books to remember that is was less than a week ago I had nothing but wishful thinking about the cutie with the blue eyes at the phone place to work with... big big big week. Too much to handle when it all comes back on you like that... fun, exhausting, thought provoking, moral testing, talent finding, weight reducing (the roomies asked my secret - I said nervous stomach for a week - the blonde didn't get it), temper flaring, wish fulling, spine reinforcing few days that proved I am a woman who stands behind all the hot air she blows wind bagging over a glass of wine with the hypocritical roomies.
No regrets.
Oh, and can anyone let me know how to find pictures, copy them, and enter them here?? Carry on, ...
Oh, got an email from Mr. Customer Survey. It was Wednesday sometime and along the lines of "guess I still suck at this; had a good time; guess bye then." Well, I guess some of the steam from my redheaded evening was lingering and transformed into anger because I let him HAVE IT! I don't remember all of it but it was kinda "you sure are arrogant to think that I would take off to a Halloween party (lie, but whatever, he caught me on IM) and have the energy or wits about me to partake in a survey... I told you I'd make it thoughtful so here are my thoughts... you need self confidence. You won't get it living with your mom. There are things in this world worse than roomates and they will give you tips on how to smile at a girl when she walks up to you - or any time in the next two hours you are with her." The reply back was "I'm a dork. I didn't see 40 Yr Old Virgin b/c I thought it would hit too close to home, just like your email did. I was just hoping to grope you this weekend. Damn weak facial muscles (actual last line)" Um, yeah. Not training that one!!
You heard about Big Red... for some reason it took two days for me to get that it wasn't about me at all. I wanted to be his friend and talk (well, email) and see how it was going but by the time Thursday morning came around I just sent a reply to whatever it was that "its cool... you know how to reach me whenever you want. Have a fantastic day". Not expecting anything from him before Christmas ;)
Its now Saturday night and my roomate just came home with a date. he reaks of cologne - that one kind that guys wear because it smells like them but more alcholic. And the dose... they just got out of the car together, why in Bobo's name would you walk out of a car and do that to yourself?? After hearing the conversation about how they would take off to get more red wine followed by that distinct I-finally-got-the-nerve-to-kiss-her pause - from the couch where I was trying to get in all my Tivo shows, I decide to take my evening upstairs. The afternoon alcohol has worn off, I've watched the movie I planned to, and really I shouldn't continue these late nights as the day job is starting to suffer. Well, they moved to the back porch where I can hear everything from my bedroom window and my not so subtle jesture of going upstairs was refused just as well as my wave through the window that it was TOO LOUD for 12:30 in the backyard. Stereo in the garage. Speaker straight out the door. She's deaf. And its not Mariah Carey but some rediculously whiney other wanna be sultry screech monkey.
She told me how it happened. She forgot her wallet and her car was half way through the car wash and this guy behind her picks up her tab. Why?? oh, shes blonde with a sqeeky laugh who flips her hair and doesn't realize until after the fact that she's forgotten her wallet!!!! oh, and 30 but tells people she's 25 and they buy it so she's had TWO 23 yr old b/f contenders since I've been here, one of whom was nuzzled up with her on the couch when I came home on um TUESDAY. She gives her card so he can tell her where and when to pay him back, he waives the fee and asks her out, she tells him to pick her up at the house for dinner in Malibu, and now they are here instead of some club.
And I decided not to be a lush and not have another tequila shot with my movie so I am fully awake after fighting the alcohol sleepies. And I can hear everything that is happening on their date!!
OK so I tell Big Sis (fave roomie who I share the upstairs and the bathroom with that is the mama bear of the house since she's the one who bought it with the ex-fiancee) that I didn't bring a boy over because I have a lot of roomates. She gave me the stern look of "you know that you can bring over whoever you want..." and I said "yeah, but I wasn't sure I wanted him here" and she said "well, you can use us as an exuse if you want to (big giggles and smiles had by all), but don't think you can't, OK?" Maybe she'll get the hint that I don't like her b/f here because of his booming voice and degrating 'baby' every three seconds and thank all things precious that she was on the rag the week he was proving she was important to him and would make the four block drive to her place for a change. Fortunately she is back on the sucked up on the boy phase and over there all day and night again. Really cuts in on my masterbation when there are others around, you know?? The point was that I am really considerate of others and that Miss In the Middle decides its ok to mack on whichever guy she has that night (not judging, just jealous) all over the house loudly and in public and then goes on to disturb the neighbors about it... I wish she would get back with the 1st 23 year old and stay at his place some more.
They just walked out - I'm gonna have a shot... want me to take one for you?? no huh. Oh, just the beer chaser?? Alrighty, see you in two min =)
Well, it was just him who left. No need to intoxicate myself into a coma. YEAH!!! EL YEAH!!! Gotta love cheeeeep rent folks, I tell ya. But I think I just talked myself out of a $1000 bender weekend in Vegas or a random $150 massage treatment or even the $500 I need a New Wardrobe romp... save cash. Put in account where it can grow. Feed it and nurture it and praise it and pet it and buy my own 2 br place in five years and NOT HAVE TO LISTEN TO ANYONE BUT ME KISSING IN MY HOUSE =) =) Well, the dog will lick her ass, but...
Last night I came home and picked up the dog and drove straight back toward work to pick up take out mexican. Blah beans but the enchilada sauce was alright. I called my cousin in Reno while waiting and got a "hi, you didn't tell me you weren't coming!!! fine, I see how you are!" Um, ok, I don't know what your talking about. OH R I G H T my aunt drove from LA to Reno on a Thursday for a long weekend before she gets back to work at a real job after a year and a half and the cousin and I were hatching a plan as to how I could sneak in a trip for a party weekend. So when I found out it would mean taking three days off work, I ruled it out. And then the aunt calls me Monday - three days before departure - and asks if I don't like taking trips alone anymore; assures me I will hate the idea when I get older; asks me if I wanna go. Didn't even try to think outside her thick skull to win me over with 'don't you want to see the family? Got a trip right here for ya!' just straight to "I'ma ascrrrred to be in a car alone and no one else I know will go; I guess books on tape will cut it... =( =( " I could just imagine us at the gas station and be goin 'you want what???' oooohhhhh better... the conversation that day about how her car has been acting funny and we can get mine tuned up when we get back!!! hahahahahaha Um, no.
So I get this ration of kicked in the face via phone call and a quick recap of all the seriously retarded things my aunt has done since she got there (always the drama queen, its always the most important thing for her to be in your town) and a promise that after dinner she'll call me at home (still no luck flirting with the cell phone place guy enough to wave the cancelation of contract fees because the small company with big minutes doens't have a tower to reach the top of the moutain with signal) to hear about what happened in my week that got me so distracted I didn't work in a phone call to repeat that I in fact would not be in the car coming from CA.
This family is great isn't it?? I get three conversations about a trip from the aunt and an invite only when it would be impossible for me to do anything besides call in sick and give myself a five day weekend and four conversations about how I would do all the work to get there but the party would be great and oh I have to make all the outgoing calls to set it up so she can get away from the rugrats for a night and she never called me to discuss details but gives me an earful about me not changing the original plan and no one thought to ask if I had called for any reason at all (I Never call without some juicy tidbit - she's too busy for more than 5 min ever and I just don't get any dirt from her including the dates she was an hour from me for a full week a month ago).
Its been a monster of a week. There is a noticeable pendulum swing in my life pattern and this week was a social one. In fact I had to check my books to remember that is was less than a week ago I had nothing but wishful thinking about the cutie with the blue eyes at the phone place to work with... big big big week. Too much to handle when it all comes back on you like that... fun, exhausting, thought provoking, moral testing, talent finding, weight reducing (the roomies asked my secret - I said nervous stomach for a week - the blonde didn't get it), temper flaring, wish fulling, spine reinforcing few days that proved I am a woman who stands behind all the hot air she blows wind bagging over a glass of wine with the hypocritical roomies.
No regrets.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Gotta Love a Forward Button
I just recieved this from the inter office emailer version of spam... that stuff that fills up your inbox but you don't know its there until it cycles up amoungst the job requests and deadline updates.
I like it. It is similar to the paper copy with some similar messages about how women allow the men in their lives to treat them the way they do and to not blame others for what is happening in your life. The format is a little curt; however as a person who has come to feel secure with the addage 'everything happens for a reason' I am willing to take the timing as a bit of more-than-coincidental and read it carefully.
I like it. It is similar to the paper copy with some similar messages about how women allow the men in their lives to treat them the way they do and to not blame others for what is happening in your life. The format is a little curt; however as a person who has come to feel secure with the addage 'everything happens for a reason' I am willing to take the timing as a bit of more-than-coincidental and read it carefully.
Dear Girls (from us guys)...Don't assume that guys won't care where you are, because we do.
____________________________________________________
It makes us feel SO secure to know that our girlfriends aren't off flirting with guys we've never heard of.
____________________________________________________
Also, don't talk about your ex-boyfriends.We never have, nor ever will respect or like them, nor do we want to hear about them.When you do, you're asking your boyfriend to be jealous.You're asking your boyfriend to lose trust.
____________________________________________________
On that, don't hump everything that walks into the room.We don't care if you talk to other guys.We don't care if you're friends with other guys.But when you're sitting next to us, and some random guy walks into the room and you jump up and tackle him, without even introducing us, yeah, it pisses us off.It doesn't help if you sit there and talk to him for ten minutes without even acknowledging the fact that we're still there.
____________________________________________________
Also, when we tell you you're pretty/ beautiful/ gorgeous/ cute/ stunning, we freaking mean it.Don't tell us we're wrong.We'll stop trying to convince you.The sexiest thing about a girl is confidence.
____________________________________________________
Yeah, you can quote me.
____________________________________________________
Don't be mad when we hold the door open.Smile and say "thank you."Let us pay for you.Don't "feel bad."We enjoy doing it.It's expected.Smile and say - everybody together now - "thank you."
____________________________________________________
Kiss us when no one's watching.If you kiss us when you know nobody's looking we'll be more impressed.
____________________________________________________
You don't have to get dressed up for us.If we're going out with you in the first place, you don't have to feel the need to wear the shortest skirt you have, put on every kind of makeup you own.We like you for WHO you are and not WHAT you are.
____________________________________________________
DONT flirt with guys when we're not around.We'll find out. Trust us.We have eyes everywhere.And when we find out, we're pissed.Not necessarily with the guys you flirted with, more-so with YOU.
____________________________________________________
Don't take everything we say seriously.Sarcasm is a beautiful thing. See the beauty in it.Don't get angry easily.
____________________________________________________
Stop using magazines/media as your bible.Don't talk about how hot Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, or Jesse McCartny is in front of us.It's boring, and we don't care.You have girlfriends for that.
____________________________________________________
Whatever happened to the word "handsome"?Why does everything have to be "hot/sexy"?I'd be utterly stunned by a girl who greeted me with "Heyhandsome!" instead of "Hey baby/ stud/ cutie/ sexy" or whatever else you can think of.But seriously sometimes looks ISNT everything alot guys who arent exactly "hot" will treat you the way you need to be treatedClaiming girls or guys to be "hot" shows immaturity.
____________________________________________________
Girls, I cannot stress this enough: IF YOU AREN'T BEING TREATED RIGHT BY A GUY, DON'T WAIT FOR HIM TO CHANGE. DITCH HIS SORRY, DISCRACE-TO-THE-MALE-POPULATION ASS, AND FIND SOMEONE WHO WILL TREAT YOU WITH UTTER RESPECT - Someone who will honor your morals. Someone who will make you smile when you're at your lowest. Someone who will stop what theyre doing just to look you in the eyes....and say "I love you" .......and actually mean it.
Give the nice guys a chance.
Sounds a little like the 30 year old guy who lives in the converted garage of his childhood home and continually watches girls go for the 'bad guys' on a second glancing over... or a girl who is sick of getting 2:30am calls from a girlfriend in distress over the lack of great men and passed it on like a chained forward. Its cool though; its a nice reminder to us single gals that we are not being cold or bitter or high mantainance - just that we refuse to compromise ourselves for the sake of some guy.Note to Self
When your sitting stewing in your thoughts its not a good idea to keep a cold beer in your hand the Whole time.
Switch to water at some point.
Don't think email is any different than calling or texting - its still part way into the middle of the night and all the beer bottles in the trash this morning were yours no matter how much you think the roomies may have helped out and it is just like drunk dialing in the morning and the apologies will have to be made no matter the communication venue chosen.
Thanks the karmic gods that you don't have every email address you ever wanted and that your phone won't let you call or text at that time of night without driving for miles. Stupid cell phone.
Buy more beer on the way home along with B vitamin complex, fresh anything to snack on, and sushi platter that will make the roomies cringe but you will think is $8 worth of awsome.
Add two sugars to the sludge of a cup of coffee at work every time - you'll regret it at your desk if you don't. And work at your desk for a change, not just stir the coffee so you can get up for a refill and see who else is away from their desk.
Switch to water at some point.
Don't think email is any different than calling or texting - its still part way into the middle of the night and all the beer bottles in the trash this morning were yours no matter how much you think the roomies may have helped out and it is just like drunk dialing in the morning and the apologies will have to be made no matter the communication venue chosen.
Thanks the karmic gods that you don't have every email address you ever wanted and that your phone won't let you call or text at that time of night without driving for miles. Stupid cell phone.
Buy more beer on the way home along with B vitamin complex, fresh anything to snack on, and sushi platter that will make the roomies cringe but you will think is $8 worth of awsome.
Add two sugars to the sludge of a cup of coffee at work every time - you'll regret it at your desk if you don't. And work at your desk for a change, not just stir the coffee so you can get up for a refill and see who else is away from their desk.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Sanctified
You know when you daydream about something? That far off in the distance fantasy kind of daydream? The kind that is so perfect because it could be real but it never will be real and THAT makes you able to live in a constant state of semi-reality with your daydream constantly rolling like credits across any new sensory stimulus? How you're sure it never happened but on looking back to when it was a constant part of your day you just can't remember anything else but the daydream??
The entire year I had one of those. And it came to life last night. And it was absolutely spellbindingly appropriately sophisticatedly simply perfectly marvelously a spectacularly wonderful actualization of a non-planned spur of the moment whim of a chance encounter that started with an off the cuff comment and escalated in three days and thirty three emails to the actualization of all two intelligent and bored to distracting each other with flirting winks and walking too close in the hallway people can imagine to do with each other after two beers and an out clause in the new twilight hours that bestow this mountain town.
The best part... it was perfection. One hundred moments of the short evening have flashed before me, leaving my heart quicken and my feet twitching and my face tingling and my loins hot and my fingers cold and most of them were mental shots of him across the table from me.
The one that got me to close my eyes and be right with that memory was the kiss. There was no nervous what if buildup that even familiars can have. It was just me there and him there and my eyes closed to fully take in the scent of his skin and the feel of his lips and there was that undeniable connection of desire revealed at the exact moment of satiation. No slobber, no bad breath, no tongues even; no movement at all but the soft breeze in the trees and in my hair with the faintest whisper of a breath between us.
He realized what he was doing and it all changed before I could realize that a kiss can be a full body effort. I stood with my hands behind my back holding my purse and understood what love songs are made of; 16th century prose was inspired by; how aching can be an appropriate description of a state of the heart; how courting is the most despicably lost art; how dreaming has been elevated to my most important To Do of any day ever; instantly I knew that expectation would never be mine again while I was shocked with the notion that I could never want anything more than to have the perfection of that moment realized in every aspect of my life at least a dozen times a year.
And he is riddled with guilt today. As flitty and jovial and boyant I was this morning about the entire affair, I am now wretchedly overcome with longing that the kiss would have been the end of the evening. The rest had been unavoidable at the time and a divine reflection of the daydream that had carried me through so many days but in this moment I fear that I may never see him again in any setting and that our expression of want and lust and his ego boost and mine will be tarnished more on every rememberance and that he may never see the evening as I am sure to forever. It will remain unscathed on a pedastool away from the rest as an icon of my romanticism come alive and rewarded boundlessly and I will be abundently thankful to him for solidifying in me this part of my character that I have been trying to snuff out.
Tenderly weeping I leave this day... to go to the comforts of my newly adopted home and shower away the pangs of resentment that this was the only possible way to have my most perfect and undoubtably most fleeting romance... for next time we meet, if ever, this evenings weight will join us along with his satchel of self hate and it will not ever be more haloed. No regrets.
The entire year I had one of those. And it came to life last night. And it was absolutely spellbindingly appropriately sophisticatedly simply perfectly marvelously a spectacularly wonderful actualization of a non-planned spur of the moment whim of a chance encounter that started with an off the cuff comment and escalated in three days and thirty three emails to the actualization of all two intelligent and bored to distracting each other with flirting winks and walking too close in the hallway people can imagine to do with each other after two beers and an out clause in the new twilight hours that bestow this mountain town.
The best part... it was perfection. One hundred moments of the short evening have flashed before me, leaving my heart quicken and my feet twitching and my face tingling and my loins hot and my fingers cold and most of them were mental shots of him across the table from me.
The one that got me to close my eyes and be right with that memory was the kiss. There was no nervous what if buildup that even familiars can have. It was just me there and him there and my eyes closed to fully take in the scent of his skin and the feel of his lips and there was that undeniable connection of desire revealed at the exact moment of satiation. No slobber, no bad breath, no tongues even; no movement at all but the soft breeze in the trees and in my hair with the faintest whisper of a breath between us.
He realized what he was doing and it all changed before I could realize that a kiss can be a full body effort. I stood with my hands behind my back holding my purse and understood what love songs are made of; 16th century prose was inspired by; how aching can be an appropriate description of a state of the heart; how courting is the most despicably lost art; how dreaming has been elevated to my most important To Do of any day ever; instantly I knew that expectation would never be mine again while I was shocked with the notion that I could never want anything more than to have the perfection of that moment realized in every aspect of my life at least a dozen times a year.
And he is riddled with guilt today. As flitty and jovial and boyant I was this morning about the entire affair, I am now wretchedly overcome with longing that the kiss would have been the end of the evening. The rest had been unavoidable at the time and a divine reflection of the daydream that had carried me through so many days but in this moment I fear that I may never see him again in any setting and that our expression of want and lust and his ego boost and mine will be tarnished more on every rememberance and that he may never see the evening as I am sure to forever. It will remain unscathed on a pedastool away from the rest as an icon of my romanticism come alive and rewarded boundlessly and I will be abundently thankful to him for solidifying in me this part of my character that I have been trying to snuff out.
Tenderly weeping I leave this day... to go to the comforts of my newly adopted home and shower away the pangs of resentment that this was the only possible way to have my most perfect and undoubtably most fleeting romance... for next time we meet, if ever, this evenings weight will join us along with his satchel of self hate and it will not ever be more haloed. No regrets.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
What I can live on
Four months ago I found out that you can actually only eat frozen dinners, including Hot Pockets, as a diet plan but that you will not actually loose weight like the box tells you. Maybe its because of the beer I was drinking. Or the screwdrivers.
Two months ago I repeated likea montra "if a girl could live on compliments alone" when I was being showered hourly with how great a worker I was and how smart I am and how they appreciate me (I put papers in number order people; but it was flattering anyway).
A month ago I was regressing to the point in one's life when you figure "if I have $10, I would rather buy drinks than dinner" and actually didn't eat an evening meal for ten days straight. Again, the liquid diet does not garuntee wieght loss.
And today I am realizing that all these were stupid because I was still eating or drinking calories... I was living off a different version of ingestables. I realized this when it hit 2pm and I had ingested nothing but a normal sized, normal brew cup of coffee and normal sized cup of light OJ (roomies, gotta love them). That was in the 9am hour. Typically I can deal with that until 10:30 or 11 before I snack or graze or devour something. Today I can honestly say I lived off flirting until I was gonna pass out from adrenyline overload - oh, and no blood in my extremities and a heart rate above 300 bpm for 5 hours straight.
I've been sitting most of the day but emailing my redhead who got the ok from the g/f to act out his fantasies that she is 'too chicken' (his words) and working out if and when and what will happen when and if we meet up for drinks (he moved it from next Monday to Thursday to tonight); meanwhile I stole the cuties phone number from my cell place when he called my phone to check service and asked if his blues were natural or contacts and since he is a young (bar legal but apparently barely) and a guy we've been hashing over what may happen if he meets me outside the office.
The best part about it is... wait... its so great I need to clear my throat and wipe my eye... ... I'm not craving alcohol, sugar, baked goods, ice cream, chocolate, or a blanket to curl up under like all the other things I thought I could live off of. =) . =) . =) . I have been existing strictly on the nervous stomach, butterflies, and anticipation of being desired for the entire day to the point of staring down a deli menu and only taking a cup (not bowl) of soup and a fruit cup.
Take that Jenny Craig.
If this keeps up it will barely be Christmas and I'll be ready for a whole new wardrobe =) Who needs solid food anyway??
Two months ago I repeated likea montra "if a girl could live on compliments alone" when I was being showered hourly with how great a worker I was and how smart I am and how they appreciate me (I put papers in number order people; but it was flattering anyway).
A month ago I was regressing to the point in one's life when you figure "if I have $10, I would rather buy drinks than dinner" and actually didn't eat an evening meal for ten days straight. Again, the liquid diet does not garuntee wieght loss.
And today I am realizing that all these were stupid because I was still eating or drinking calories... I was living off a different version of ingestables. I realized this when it hit 2pm and I had ingested nothing but a normal sized, normal brew cup of coffee and normal sized cup of light OJ (roomies, gotta love them). That was in the 9am hour. Typically I can deal with that until 10:30 or 11 before I snack or graze or devour something. Today I can honestly say I lived off flirting until I was gonna pass out from adrenyline overload - oh, and no blood in my extremities and a heart rate above 300 bpm for 5 hours straight.
I've been sitting most of the day but emailing my redhead who got the ok from the g/f to act out his fantasies that she is 'too chicken' (his words) and working out if and when and what will happen when and if we meet up for drinks (he moved it from next Monday to Thursday to tonight); meanwhile I stole the cuties phone number from my cell place when he called my phone to check service and asked if his blues were natural or contacts and since he is a young (bar legal but apparently barely) and a guy we've been hashing over what may happen if he meets me outside the office.
The best part about it is... wait... its so great I need to clear my throat and wipe my eye... ... I'm not craving alcohol, sugar, baked goods, ice cream, chocolate, or a blanket to curl up under like all the other things I thought I could live off of. =) . =) . =) . I have been existing strictly on the nervous stomach, butterflies, and anticipation of being desired for the entire day to the point of staring down a deli menu and only taking a cup (not bowl) of soup and a fruit cup.
Take that Jenny Craig.
If this keeps up it will barely be Christmas and I'll be ready for a whole new wardrobe =) Who needs solid food anyway??
Monday, October 31, 2005
Delightful Day
OK, I admit I didn't reply to the Customer Service email because I was too busy chatting up a storm with my redheaded buddy from the last job.
Turns out he's had the conversation with his long term g/f about wanting to spread his seed or sew his oats or bang the next chick he sees (hes a little young and been a monogomist forever as far as I can deduce) and I am privy to this knowledge as he tells me he likes the idea of my daydream of making the supply closet an opportunity for afternoon delights.
His last of ELEVEN emails today firmed up that he was certain to dtermine this weeks schedule of cuddle time with the g/f and solidify when he could see me.
I'll admit to having a big ol' fashioned crush on the cute young redhead at the office who was so into his relationship that he didn't tell anyone he had it for four months and by the time I left was taking her calls about 10 times a day. And it was awsomely easy to notice which shirt/bra combos he appreciated, how standing over my desk wasn't condusive to getting any work done, and how a wink could make him trip on carpet for the rest of the day. So I'm a flirt, whatever.
Do I continue this flirtatious path and tease him through a few beers and send him home?? Take advantage of his eagerness and let the consequences be his? Be truthful with myself in knowing that satisfying an old crush would probably make me want a relationship more than squelch anything? And do I really want to knowingly be the other woman? He would tell her willingly and everything!!! Like right now he is dressing for his softball game and talking to her about what he could do with another woman that wouldn't freak her out. Uh huh.
And he'll be getting back to me tomorrow.
And I can't wait.
So bad... so cliche... so easy!!!
Is this what dad meant by keeping friends from the places I've been??? ha!
Turns out he's had the conversation with his long term g/f about wanting to spread his seed or sew his oats or bang the next chick he sees (hes a little young and been a monogomist forever as far as I can deduce) and I am privy to this knowledge as he tells me he likes the idea of my daydream of making the supply closet an opportunity for afternoon delights.
His last of ELEVEN emails today firmed up that he was certain to dtermine this weeks schedule of cuddle time with the g/f and solidify when he could see me.
I'll admit to having a big ol' fashioned crush on the cute young redhead at the office who was so into his relationship that he didn't tell anyone he had it for four months and by the time I left was taking her calls about 10 times a day. And it was awsomely easy to notice which shirt/bra combos he appreciated, how standing over my desk wasn't condusive to getting any work done, and how a wink could make him trip on carpet for the rest of the day. So I'm a flirt, whatever.
Do I continue this flirtatious path and tease him through a few beers and send him home?? Take advantage of his eagerness and let the consequences be his? Be truthful with myself in knowing that satisfying an old crush would probably make me want a relationship more than squelch anything? And do I really want to knowingly be the other woman? He would tell her willingly and everything!!! Like right now he is dressing for his softball game and talking to her about what he could do with another woman that wouldn't freak her out. Uh huh.
And he'll be getting back to me tomorrow.
And I can't wait.
So bad... so cliche... so easy!!!
Is this what dad meant by keeping friends from the places I've been??? ha!
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