Making KC french toast sticks for breakfast from the freezer aisle rather than from scratch. Looking in the cupboards this morning, I realized that grocery shopping was no longer an option to add to my errand list of things to be done today. (Which is not to mention I'm out of bagels, and my morning routine just can't tolerate that.)
It's freezing here this morning, even more so since I left the kitchen window open last night. The back deck is wet with rain and even the poor birds visiting my feeder appear to be cold this morning, shivering in the breeze. Perhaps this will not be the day after all to get the garden closer to being done.
Dad and Bec left early this morning on their way to Baltimore for Audrey's graduation. I had promised I would go, but as usual Aud's lack of communication changed my mind.
There are times when I wonder how she seems to survive so well without the support of her sisters. I talk to Amy at least two to three times a week, catch Jodi on an instant message every other week or so, but when it comes to Audrey, lack any form of communication with her until she stops by home on one of her fly by night visits.
So I can't imagine how it will be this fall when she leaves for graduate school is San Francisco. It's hard to keep in touch with someone who seems to avoid any form of contact altogether.
In other news, my mother sent me a blast from the past picture in the mail of myself as a child. If I had any clue about how to post a photo on here I would. But for now a simple description will have to suffice. Naked, save for yellow terry cloth shorts, a green superhero cape and a non-matching Indian head dress with a vast array of different colored feathers, I am riding a kick-and-go (an older version of today's modern scooter) with a look of absolute enjoyment on my face. This is the note my mother sent me ...
Stace ~
Found this Friday in Jerry & Audrey's attic - must have been karma - it was in the first drawer I opened. Notice the wide shout of delight, the flamboyant dress. This is the spirit that lives within you. Let her fly!!!
Love,
YM
Sometimes my Mother knows exactly what to say, exactly when I need to hear it. Thanks Mom ...
Act 2, Scene 1
A strange evening to be sure, sitting next to the woman - who was almost my mother-in-law - making pleasant conversation. Years ago if you had told me I would be sitting next to Ellen, waiting for her son - my ex -to arrive with wife in tow, I would have laughed at the very notion. "You must have me confused with someone else," I would say, imagining an all out bar brawl, fists and beer flying through the air. Me, of course coming out on top, the victor.
But there we sat like gently bred ladies taking tea and discussed everything from the weather to astrology. She told me she had always wanted to be a dancer herself and was glad KC seemed to be enjoying taking her lessons.
"She must get that from me," she said. "When I was young, I used to tell my mother I wanted to be a dancer. But I married young," she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed, "And well, that didn't get me too far."
I nodded my head in agreement, tempted to remind her I was well aware of the damage young, ignorant love could do. "Yeah. I seem to remember your son choosing the door when KC turned 4 months old, to go shack up with his slut," I wanted to say, but bit my tongue, smiling my I can't wait until this thing is over smile.
Dimming, the house lights turned off and on to hasten the crowd to their seats as I glanced nervously around the room, scanning for any sign of KC's Dad. "Not tonight," I mouthed into the darkness, a silent prayer on my lips that he wouldn't be late, wouldn't miss a night so important to our daughter. But as the show began, he still had yet to take his seat.
If I had any nails to bite, I'm sure they would have been bitten off. It was hard to relax and enjoy the show without knowing whether or not he was there, knowing that KC's happiness could be shattered in that single second when she looked out into the crowd and saw the empty spot where a familiar face should be. I willed him to get there.
And get here he finally did, though too late for me to be very happy with his arrival. But it wasn't my feelings that mattered, all that mattered was making KC happy.
Perhaps I will finish this story tomorrow, as for now my eyes are closing of their own will and soon I will be very fast asleep ...
But there we sat like gently bred ladies taking tea and discussed everything from the weather to astrology. She told me she had always wanted to be a dancer herself and was glad KC seemed to be enjoying taking her lessons.
"She must get that from me," she said. "When I was young, I used to tell my mother I wanted to be a dancer. But I married young," she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed, "And well, that didn't get me too far."
I nodded my head in agreement, tempted to remind her I was well aware of the damage young, ignorant love could do. "Yeah. I seem to remember your son choosing the door when KC turned 4 months old, to go shack up with his slut," I wanted to say, but bit my tongue, smiling my I can't wait until this thing is over smile.
Dimming, the house lights turned off and on to hasten the crowd to their seats as I glanced nervously around the room, scanning for any sign of KC's Dad. "Not tonight," I mouthed into the darkness, a silent prayer on my lips that he wouldn't be late, wouldn't miss a night so important to our daughter. But as the show began, he still had yet to take his seat.
If I had any nails to bite, I'm sure they would have been bitten off. It was hard to relax and enjoy the show without knowing whether or not he was there, knowing that KC's happiness could be shattered in that single second when she looked out into the crowd and saw the empty spot where a familiar face should be. I willed him to get there.
And get here he finally did, though too late for me to be very happy with his arrival. But it wasn't my feelings that mattered, all that mattered was making KC happy.
Perhaps I will finish this story tomorrow, as for now my eyes are closing of their own will and soon I will be very fast asleep ...
Center Stage
Up early this morning for a hair appointment. Decided to schedule it as early as possible since I'm going to be sitting in public with foil in my hair, getting the highlights that I'm sure nature had intended to but forgot to put in my mousy brown hair.
Unfortunately, KC has no choice but to go with me this morning, as I didn't even bother to ask my father how he was feeling about quality grandparent time with his granddaughter after last nights dance recital went on for over three hours in a very hot auditorium. (Yes Mom ... I took lots of pictures. And yes, you will eventually get copies. I'm thinking one hour photo tomorrow.)
Besides the stifling heat and the threat of a thunderstorm which necessitated the instructions that should the power go off, we were all to remain calmly in our seats until we could be escorted out, the recital was - as far as recitals can go - wonderfully thought out. Surprising since I haven't been all that impressed with the disorganization of the dance studio itself all season.
The assortment of colorful costumes, the talent of the children and the enthusiasm they exhibited, were enough to convince me that the drudgery of running KC here and there two times a week for lessons are worth continuing. A realization the selfish me who hates having to run around half of creation after a long day at work would rather have not come to.
But there it is. When you're a parent, you do things for the benefit of your children, rather than the benefit of yourself. (Even though you were rooting for soccer or some sort of musical aptitude to follow in your footsteps.)
Still, I'm quite proud of KC. She did great and didn't falter to nervousness or fall off the stage. Both which had me beaming from my seat.
But I must be off. Another long day ahead of us and another recital for her acro class tonight.
Unfortunately, KC has no choice but to go with me this morning, as I didn't even bother to ask my father how he was feeling about quality grandparent time with his granddaughter after last nights dance recital went on for over three hours in a very hot auditorium. (Yes Mom ... I took lots of pictures. And yes, you will eventually get copies. I'm thinking one hour photo tomorrow.)
Besides the stifling heat and the threat of a thunderstorm which necessitated the instructions that should the power go off, we were all to remain calmly in our seats until we could be escorted out, the recital was - as far as recitals can go - wonderfully thought out. Surprising since I haven't been all that impressed with the disorganization of the dance studio itself all season.
The assortment of colorful costumes, the talent of the children and the enthusiasm they exhibited, were enough to convince me that the drudgery of running KC here and there two times a week for lessons are worth continuing. A realization the selfish me who hates having to run around half of creation after a long day at work would rather have not come to.
But there it is. When you're a parent, you do things for the benefit of your children, rather than the benefit of yourself. (Even though you were rooting for soccer or some sort of musical aptitude to follow in your footsteps.)
Still, I'm quite proud of KC. She did great and didn't falter to nervousness or fall off the stage. Both which had me beaming from my seat.
But I must be off. Another long day ahead of us and another recital for her acro class tonight.
Do Not Disturb
Exhausted she thought about what things she could say, but realized the only words she wanted to hear were goodnight.
Sweet dreams until tomorrow. This is NWTLO signing off.
Sweet dreams until tomorrow. This is NWTLO signing off.
Is That A Mouse In Your Pocket?
I woke up thinking about Brian P's penis this morning. An odd thought to have nearly 20 years after the fact, but there it was as fresh as the morning sun streaming into my windows.
I remember that there were four of us all nestled in the back room of my grandfather's camp, zipped up tight in our sleeping bags attempting to sleep, though the noise from behind the door spoke of the good times our parents were still having.
As for me, I remember being more concerned about the mice. I'd seen their droppings earlier in the day and wasn't exactly thrilled with the premise of sharing my living space with them, imagining instead the horrible disgustingness of mouse fur and whiskers against my bare skin and the bloodcurdling scream I would yell when and if the little demons managed to chew their way into my bag.
Cousin Danny was in the far corner, his bag away from the door, while my older sister Amy was on the other side of Brian who was lying between us both. While Danny kept to himself, Amy and Brian were busy whispering in what I was sure was some diabolical plot against me, as the two often joined forced to make my life miserable. (Like the time Amy stuffed freshly mowed grass down my throat just because it was there and she was trying to impress Brian ... Brian however got the surprise of his life when I tackled him to the ground and gave him a bit of the same treatment until one of the adults finally pried me off him, howling and kicking like a little mad woman.)
Shucking the warmth of his sleeping bag, Brian made a big production of stretching as he lurched to his feet.
"You girls ever see a real penis before?" he asked, standing there in his tidy whities, his hands confident at his sides.
Amy and I both shook our heads no from our collective sleeping bags.
"Make you a deal," Brian said. "You show me yours and I'll show you mine."
Cousin Danny moved from his corner of the room, his newly deepening voice breaking into the conversation. "If anyone shows anyone anything, they won't have anything to show ever again," he said, in a burst of protectiveness, before returning to his world of isolated silence.
Brian sat back down dejected, deciding not to take the chance of irritating a boy much older and stronger than himself. But I could tell he wasn't completely sold on giving up the idea.
The rustling of his sleeping bag should have been a warming for me to close my eyes, instead my eyes tried to focus harder through the dark, moonlit room. Raising his covers just enough, he grinned as he gave me a flash of everything that was going on down there. In any case, I couldn't suppress the "eeew" that came flying out of my mouth. A mistake on my part as cousin Danny was on him in a flash.
"What did I tell you about showing my cousins things they don't need to see," he yelled, flipping Brian and his bag across the room.
"I was just having a little fun," Brian laughed, although it was one of those please don't beat the tar out of me nervous kind of laughs.
But Danny wasn't having it.
"You can sleep over on this side of the room for the rest of the night," he said, pointing to a spot on the floor very far away from us.
Brian reluctantly dragged the remainder of his things to his little island of exile, as Amy sniggered beneath her blankets.
As for me, I was glad for one thing. It had taken my mind off the mice.
I remember that there were four of us all nestled in the back room of my grandfather's camp, zipped up tight in our sleeping bags attempting to sleep, though the noise from behind the door spoke of the good times our parents were still having.
As for me, I remember being more concerned about the mice. I'd seen their droppings earlier in the day and wasn't exactly thrilled with the premise of sharing my living space with them, imagining instead the horrible disgustingness of mouse fur and whiskers against my bare skin and the bloodcurdling scream I would yell when and if the little demons managed to chew their way into my bag.
Cousin Danny was in the far corner, his bag away from the door, while my older sister Amy was on the other side of Brian who was lying between us both. While Danny kept to himself, Amy and Brian were busy whispering in what I was sure was some diabolical plot against me, as the two often joined forced to make my life miserable. (Like the time Amy stuffed freshly mowed grass down my throat just because it was there and she was trying to impress Brian ... Brian however got the surprise of his life when I tackled him to the ground and gave him a bit of the same treatment until one of the adults finally pried me off him, howling and kicking like a little mad woman.)
Shucking the warmth of his sleeping bag, Brian made a big production of stretching as he lurched to his feet.
"You girls ever see a real penis before?" he asked, standing there in his tidy whities, his hands confident at his sides.
Amy and I both shook our heads no from our collective sleeping bags.
"Make you a deal," Brian said. "You show me yours and I'll show you mine."
Cousin Danny moved from his corner of the room, his newly deepening voice breaking into the conversation. "If anyone shows anyone anything, they won't have anything to show ever again," he said, in a burst of protectiveness, before returning to his world of isolated silence.
Brian sat back down dejected, deciding not to take the chance of irritating a boy much older and stronger than himself. But I could tell he wasn't completely sold on giving up the idea.
The rustling of his sleeping bag should have been a warming for me to close my eyes, instead my eyes tried to focus harder through the dark, moonlit room. Raising his covers just enough, he grinned as he gave me a flash of everything that was going on down there. In any case, I couldn't suppress the "eeew" that came flying out of my mouth. A mistake on my part as cousin Danny was on him in a flash.
"What did I tell you about showing my cousins things they don't need to see," he yelled, flipping Brian and his bag across the room.
"I was just having a little fun," Brian laughed, although it was one of those please don't beat the tar out of me nervous kind of laughs.
But Danny wasn't having it.
"You can sleep over on this side of the room for the rest of the night," he said, pointing to a spot on the floor very far away from us.
Brian reluctantly dragged the remainder of his things to his little island of exile, as Amy sniggered beneath her blankets.
As for me, I was glad for one thing. It had taken my mind off the mice.
Dancing in Circles
I feel like I should be teaching a course, "How To Appear Happy, When You're Absolutely Miserable Inside".
Silly, silly me. Holding on to the chance that he would call or email, to toe test the water and see how I was. I guess I'm not as good as some when it comes to dealing with an ending. It's more like me to dwell and hang on, then let go and forget.
I can't imagine though how he couldn't miss me, even if it were only a little. After five months, you would think - ok so I would think - that I would have stirred up some sort of feelings in the man. And yet, I'm slowly coming to the realization that losing me hardly caused him to blink an eye. And now I find, in addition to my heart, it's my ego thats gone down the drain.
So I've been throwing myself into projects around the house. Two nights in a row now, KC and I have worked the garden, yanking out various weeds, turning the soil and setting in a new line of cast iron fencing that, though imposing, will hardly keep the bunnies at bay.
I also finished the book I bought over the weekend at Barnes and Noble, my typical haunting ground of I must spend money to make myself feel better. It was a rather depressing read, the main character being a female who just lost her husband to cancer and through subsequent chapters learns how to moderate her grief. I'm not sure I feel much better after reading it, although it does make my complaints seem paltry at best.
Now that the house is quiet, KC to bed and the tele thankfully turned off, I think I will seek out the other book I bought and immerse myself in somebody else's life until I fall asleep exhausted.
Silly, silly me. Holding on to the chance that he would call or email, to toe test the water and see how I was. I guess I'm not as good as some when it comes to dealing with an ending. It's more like me to dwell and hang on, then let go and forget.
I can't imagine though how he couldn't miss me, even if it were only a little. After five months, you would think - ok so I would think - that I would have stirred up some sort of feelings in the man. And yet, I'm slowly coming to the realization that losing me hardly caused him to blink an eye. And now I find, in addition to my heart, it's my ego thats gone down the drain.
So I've been throwing myself into projects around the house. Two nights in a row now, KC and I have worked the garden, yanking out various weeds, turning the soil and setting in a new line of cast iron fencing that, though imposing, will hardly keep the bunnies at bay.
I also finished the book I bought over the weekend at Barnes and Noble, my typical haunting ground of I must spend money to make myself feel better. It was a rather depressing read, the main character being a female who just lost her husband to cancer and through subsequent chapters learns how to moderate her grief. I'm not sure I feel much better after reading it, although it does make my complaints seem paltry at best.
Now that the house is quiet, KC to bed and the tele thankfully turned off, I think I will seek out the other book I bought and immerse myself in somebody else's life until I fall asleep exhausted.
Positive Feedback
Now directing your attention to the comment feature on NWTLO ... Please feel free to say anything, anything at all ... I'm desperate for conversation. Don't make me beg.
I'm begging, aren't I?
I'm begging, aren't I?
Disconnected
I'm not used to my phone not ringing. Part of me is waiting for him to call, hoping that he'll ring and say it's all been some sort of big mistake.
I miss waiting underneath the blankets, unwinding slow from a long day, as the phone chirps to life by my side, waiting three short rings before I answer, so as not to seem too eager.
I remind myself that soon I will get used to this too. The phone not ringing. The quiet returning to my evening hours.
And I have to wonder, what it is I miss more, the sound of the phone or the sound of his voice?
I miss waiting underneath the blankets, unwinding slow from a long day, as the phone chirps to life by my side, waiting three short rings before I answer, so as not to seem too eager.
I remind myself that soon I will get used to this too. The phone not ringing. The quiet returning to my evening hours.
And I have to wonder, what it is I miss more, the sound of the phone or the sound of his voice?
Now Testing ...
The freedom to blog at anytime, anywhere. Even while eating strawberry banana yogurt during my lunch hour.
I'm thinking this could be dangerous.
The start of a whole new era ... A blogging goddess era, unencumbered by the usual constraints of 8 to 5. How will I ever get any work done now?
(Ooooh ... Kid in a candy store, it works! Now what happened to the comment feature? Ah crike!)
Happy Mom's Day
To all the Mom's out there. Sit back, relax and put your feet up for the day. Today it's all about you and everything you do to make the world a better place by raising quality kids.
Happy Mother's Day!
Top 5 Reasons It's Good To Be Single (Again)
5. You don't have to pretend that every word he says is interesting, when he says the same things over and over again.
4. You don't have to waste your entire weekend waiting to see if he'll call, only to be disappointed by his lack of manners.
3. You can laugh with your friends at just how pathetic you were while you were oh so crazy in love - or like ... whichever the case may be.
2. You can stay out all night, have a good time, sleep in on a Sunday morning, wake up with a hangover and still be in a good mood. (Who cares if you kissed every man in the bar last night.)
1. You're not bothered by a little bit of hair on your legs. So their not silky and smooth, shaving on a daily basis is for the birds.
Top 2 Reasons Why It Sucks To Be Single (Again)
2. Starting over at square one, finding someone new, putting in the time to get to know them and be comfortable with them.
1. Even in the most necessary break ups, knowing that it may take more than a few days for your heart to feel anything more than bruised and battered.
Happy Mother's Day!
Top 5 Reasons It's Good To Be Single (Again)
5. You don't have to pretend that every word he says is interesting, when he says the same things over and over again.
4. You don't have to waste your entire weekend waiting to see if he'll call, only to be disappointed by his lack of manners.
3. You can laugh with your friends at just how pathetic you were while you were oh so crazy in love - or like ... whichever the case may be.
2. You can stay out all night, have a good time, sleep in on a Sunday morning, wake up with a hangover and still be in a good mood. (Who cares if you kissed every man in the bar last night.)
1. You're not bothered by a little bit of hair on your legs. So their not silky and smooth, shaving on a daily basis is for the birds.
Top 2 Reasons Why It Sucks To Be Single (Again)
2. Starting over at square one, finding someone new, putting in the time to get to know them and be comfortable with them.
1. Even in the most necessary break ups, knowing that it may take more than a few days for your heart to feel anything more than bruised and battered.
Coming To An End
"No man is worth your sanity." ~ Stacey 2004
For the past five months, I've been trying to convince myself that being with someone, was much better than being alone. And for the past five months, I've been pretty close to being absolutely miserable.
From the start there was a wall that couldn't be broached. Sean's personal issues were like monsters let out of a closet, and always a matter of conversation. I understood, if only from my own experience, how hard it was to move on ahead with your life when everything you thought you knew had come crashing down around you. I tried to be supportive, without always dispensing advice, believing that living through the pain was the only way to learn that you could make it on your own.
I tried to remember how I reacted to the pain, and remembered a hollow shell girl who couldn't sleep at night, let alone breathe. The girl who retired from the world for over a year, until finally one day there was light again, and laughter. He just needs time, I kept telling myself, he hasn't even made it a full year yet, give him some room. Although he would probably say different - though in my world he has ceased having a right to say anthing - he was not one who could handle stress well. During these times he tended to cave in, pushing me away to the outer recesses of his life until he could handle having me around again. Through the months it became a pattern, one really good weekend followed by two that were really bad.
But still I hung on. Not wanting to be a failure at yet another relationship and not wanting to be alone without hope of ever finding love. Still, if I were being honest, I knew months ago that this relationship didn't stand a chance. No relationship can survive only having one person in it and quite frankly, he wasn't there, at least never with me.
He was good at making promises, making plans he never intended to go through with. Maybe he thought this would make me happy, or maybe it was just intended to get me to shut up for a while. I tried to be understanding, giving him the benefit of the doubt that life could really be that stressful and he needed time out to himself. And then I remembered who I was, a single full time working Mom, head of household and dance class transportation, who could always be counted on in a pinch by anyone in need. The kind of person who could always make time for those important to her. And hell, if I could do it and knew it could be done then it only came down to one thing. I wasn't important enough for him to make time.
So why keep me around I thought? What was I to him in his life that he wanted me around, when in truth he didn't want me around at all. Because I was convenient, like a puppet on a string waiting for him to put me in motion? So he could have sex when and if he wanted it? Because I refused to give myself any credit and kept coming back for more? I don't know, and I didn't really get an answer this morning when I was talking to him on the phone, as he was trying to give me his usual "I'm busy" brush off.
Fuck your being busy was all I thought as he listed his to do list for the day, suddenly realizing that I didn't have to beg for his attention, I didn't even want it. Inside I wanted to tell him what an asshole he was, that he was a selfish prig and to borrow a word from Bridget Jone's Diary, an emotional fuckwit. If there is one thing all men out there should learn, it's that you don't mess with the heart of a single mother!
He tried telling me he was going to call me later, and then tried telling me he hadn't read the email I had sent him last night, even though I knew he had read it, as I had requested a return receipt for the message. I couldn't fathom the reason for the lie, just as I knew his propensity for not knowing how to work a phone would be the reason for his not calling later.
I saw myself in my minds eye, wasting a whole Saturday sitting by my phone waiting for his call and my groveling for his affection was done. In that single second, I realized that I had had enough of the games, of the bullshit, of the outright lying and the questionable purple trojan wrapper I had discovered the week previous on his bedroom floor. My faith and trust in this man was already shot, there was no denying the inevitable anymore.
I tried to pull my thoughts together, requesting a moment of his time as he was eager to end the call. I think of you as a friend he said, I don't feel the same way about you as you feel about me. I couldn't say I was shocked to hear this, since I had already suspected as much. (Although his defintion of friend is sorely lacking, as I wouldn't even treat my worst enemy the way he has treated me.)
So I told him enough.
I had had enough, and wasn't signing up for the next ship out to sea to chance the tides. Instead - blog notwithstanding - I went out like a lady, telling him I would miss him, but could see no other choice than to say goodbye.
But as I hung up the phone, it was the damndest thing, I was more happy than sad.
For the past five months, I've been trying to convince myself that being with someone, was much better than being alone. And for the past five months, I've been pretty close to being absolutely miserable.
From the start there was a wall that couldn't be broached. Sean's personal issues were like monsters let out of a closet, and always a matter of conversation. I understood, if only from my own experience, how hard it was to move on ahead with your life when everything you thought you knew had come crashing down around you. I tried to be supportive, without always dispensing advice, believing that living through the pain was the only way to learn that you could make it on your own.
I tried to remember how I reacted to the pain, and remembered a hollow shell girl who couldn't sleep at night, let alone breathe. The girl who retired from the world for over a year, until finally one day there was light again, and laughter. He just needs time, I kept telling myself, he hasn't even made it a full year yet, give him some room. Although he would probably say different - though in my world he has ceased having a right to say anthing - he was not one who could handle stress well. During these times he tended to cave in, pushing me away to the outer recesses of his life until he could handle having me around again. Through the months it became a pattern, one really good weekend followed by two that were really bad.
But still I hung on. Not wanting to be a failure at yet another relationship and not wanting to be alone without hope of ever finding love. Still, if I were being honest, I knew months ago that this relationship didn't stand a chance. No relationship can survive only having one person in it and quite frankly, he wasn't there, at least never with me.
He was good at making promises, making plans he never intended to go through with. Maybe he thought this would make me happy, or maybe it was just intended to get me to shut up for a while. I tried to be understanding, giving him the benefit of the doubt that life could really be that stressful and he needed time out to himself. And then I remembered who I was, a single full time working Mom, head of household and dance class transportation, who could always be counted on in a pinch by anyone in need. The kind of person who could always make time for those important to her. And hell, if I could do it and knew it could be done then it only came down to one thing. I wasn't important enough for him to make time.
So why keep me around I thought? What was I to him in his life that he wanted me around, when in truth he didn't want me around at all. Because I was convenient, like a puppet on a string waiting for him to put me in motion? So he could have sex when and if he wanted it? Because I refused to give myself any credit and kept coming back for more? I don't know, and I didn't really get an answer this morning when I was talking to him on the phone, as he was trying to give me his usual "I'm busy" brush off.
Fuck your being busy was all I thought as he listed his to do list for the day, suddenly realizing that I didn't have to beg for his attention, I didn't even want it. Inside I wanted to tell him what an asshole he was, that he was a selfish prig and to borrow a word from Bridget Jone's Diary, an emotional fuckwit. If there is one thing all men out there should learn, it's that you don't mess with the heart of a single mother!
He tried telling me he was going to call me later, and then tried telling me he hadn't read the email I had sent him last night, even though I knew he had read it, as I had requested a return receipt for the message. I couldn't fathom the reason for the lie, just as I knew his propensity for not knowing how to work a phone would be the reason for his not calling later.
I saw myself in my minds eye, wasting a whole Saturday sitting by my phone waiting for his call and my groveling for his affection was done. In that single second, I realized that I had had enough of the games, of the bullshit, of the outright lying and the questionable purple trojan wrapper I had discovered the week previous on his bedroom floor. My faith and trust in this man was already shot, there was no denying the inevitable anymore.
I tried to pull my thoughts together, requesting a moment of his time as he was eager to end the call. I think of you as a friend he said, I don't feel the same way about you as you feel about me. I couldn't say I was shocked to hear this, since I had already suspected as much. (Although his defintion of friend is sorely lacking, as I wouldn't even treat my worst enemy the way he has treated me.)
So I told him enough.
I had had enough, and wasn't signing up for the next ship out to sea to chance the tides. Instead - blog notwithstanding - I went out like a lady, telling him I would miss him, but could see no other choice than to say goodbye.
But as I hung up the phone, it was the damndest thing, I was more happy than sad.
Time & Consideration
"Rejection doesn't maim. It kills."
If memory serves me right, I believe this quote comes from one of my favorite movies, The Truth About Cats and Dogs. Except today, it's disappointment rather than rejection, or maybe even a little bit of both, that will be showing its face today.
Have you ever known right at the beginning of your day that it's not going to go the way you want it to? You keep your fingers crossed, and say a prayer that it will all work itself out in the end, even as you're already sure you'll find yourself sitting home alone on a Friday night.
And you'll feel miserable, and you'll feel like no excuse will ever do when you're the one who keeps getting shoved around everybody else's schedule and no one gives a damn about yours. And you'll wonder what it's all worth, leaving your self and your heart open and vulnerable for the one man who can make you happy one second and miserable the next. And even though you want to have faith in him, you realize the track record isn't good, you've been cancelled so many times, you've stopped asking him questions, because you're tired of hearing the word no.
Still you're hoping he won't let you down tonight. That little flame of hope that lingers, waiting to spark. Anything to stop the tears you've already started to cry, when things begin to feel distant and cold. So you send him a message, hoping it will get through to him, that you're standing on the edge waiting for him to pull you back, rather than allowing you to go over alone.
If memory serves me right, I believe this quote comes from one of my favorite movies, The Truth About Cats and Dogs. Except today, it's disappointment rather than rejection, or maybe even a little bit of both, that will be showing its face today.
Have you ever known right at the beginning of your day that it's not going to go the way you want it to? You keep your fingers crossed, and say a prayer that it will all work itself out in the end, even as you're already sure you'll find yourself sitting home alone on a Friday night.
And you'll feel miserable, and you'll feel like no excuse will ever do when you're the one who keeps getting shoved around everybody else's schedule and no one gives a damn about yours. And you'll wonder what it's all worth, leaving your self and your heart open and vulnerable for the one man who can make you happy one second and miserable the next. And even though you want to have faith in him, you realize the track record isn't good, you've been cancelled so many times, you've stopped asking him questions, because you're tired of hearing the word no.
Still you're hoping he won't let you down tonight. That little flame of hope that lingers, waiting to spark. Anything to stop the tears you've already started to cry, when things begin to feel distant and cold. So you send him a message, hoping it will get through to him, that you're standing on the edge waiting for him to pull you back, rather than allowing you to go over alone.
When the Lights Go Out
I was a bit frazzled before going to bed last night. And as always it was for the usual reason. Intent on making this visit, a good visit for one and all - despite the propensity for it to go the other way, whenever my sister and mother happen to be in the same room together - I tried to come up with a plan to get us all through the next three days without trampled feelings.
As if I have any control ...
What I did succeed in doing however was stressing myself out, which made me a prime candidate last night for nightmareville. I woke up this morning, a bit cloudy but remembering the premise of the dream, which happened to involve people cutting through my bedroom walls and tearing their brains out.
I'm going to guess that symbolically speaking I was trying to tell myself that there's not much use in overthinking a thing. Of course, that won't stop me from worrying ... I am what I am. And I'm the fixer of the family, always have been, always will be, the little girl who tries to keep the peace.
Ach ... I should be getting ready for work. I'd rather stay here and write all day but duty calls.
Until sooner or later ... Though one should always hope for sooner rather than later. This is Stacey, signing off.
As if I have any control ...
What I did succeed in doing however was stressing myself out, which made me a prime candidate last night for nightmareville. I woke up this morning, a bit cloudy but remembering the premise of the dream, which happened to involve people cutting through my bedroom walls and tearing their brains out.
I'm going to guess that symbolically speaking I was trying to tell myself that there's not much use in overthinking a thing. Of course, that won't stop me from worrying ... I am what I am. And I'm the fixer of the family, always have been, always will be, the little girl who tries to keep the peace.
Ach ... I should be getting ready for work. I'd rather stay here and write all day but duty calls.
Until sooner or later ... Though one should always hope for sooner rather than later. This is Stacey, signing off.
To Do List
Despite yesterday's brief panic attack, things are not as bad as they look. Well, other than the laundry room ... And quite frankly that door - as well as the door to KC's room - can remain shut throughout the course of my Mother's visit.
One must think positive to be positive. And so tonight, I have decided that the first "to do" is just to get the downstairs looking presentable, which means breaking out the dusting cloth, the vacuum cleaner and putting some of the standing clutter out to pasture. Or at least hide it really well somewhere where she won't look.
All things are possible with a little elbow grease and an impending visit to motivate you into action.
For now I'm off to work. Oh happy Monday ...
One must think positive to be positive. And so tonight, I have decided that the first "to do" is just to get the downstairs looking presentable, which means breaking out the dusting cloth, the vacuum cleaner and putting some of the standing clutter out to pasture. Or at least hide it really well somewhere where she won't look.
All things are possible with a little elbow grease and an impending visit to motivate you into action.
For now I'm off to work. Oh happy Monday ...
Iiiieeee
Oh God, oh god, oh god, oh god!
Mom's on her way.
And the house is a mess with only 2 days to clean. And I'm out of advil, suffering alone with a killer migraine watching extremely bad tv at the lowest volume possible. And KC's been complaining all day and now ... Now I've got to perk up, get with the progam and get my house up to Mom standards.
Sane? I think not.
Mom's on her way.
And the house is a mess with only 2 days to clean. And I'm out of advil, suffering alone with a killer migraine watching extremely bad tv at the lowest volume possible. And KC's been complaining all day and now ... Now I've got to perk up, get with the progam and get my house up to Mom standards.
Sane? I think not.
The Get to Going
Sometimes there is a part of me that wishes she could run away. I've been listening to the sound of the rain tonight, watching the curtains billowing in, and then out again with the current of the wind beneath their folds. There is a damp freshness in the air, reminiscent of the smell of spring, foretelling of new beginnings.
The walls feel small tonight. As if they're closing in, despite my vain attempts to fight for space. It's not often that being home seems wrong, and yet tonight, a million miles away doesn't seem quite far enough. Perhaps there are just other places I wish myself to be.
And going to sleep seems like such a waste of time, with all these thoughts racing around my head demanding action. I am like the parachuter quite unready but willing to jump all the same. Perhaps all we ever really need is just a starting shove ...
The walls feel small tonight. As if they're closing in, despite my vain attempts to fight for space. It's not often that being home seems wrong, and yet tonight, a million miles away doesn't seem quite far enough. Perhaps there are just other places I wish myself to be.
And going to sleep seems like such a waste of time, with all these thoughts racing around my head demanding action. I am like the parachuter quite unready but willing to jump all the same. Perhaps all we ever really need is just a starting shove ...
Colin and Hugh
Love actually.
If real life could only resemble the movies ... (I am ever the sucker for British flicks.)
If real life could only resemble the movies ... (I am ever the sucker for British flicks.)
The Color of Greed
When you think ballet recital you picture little girls in pink tutus stumbling across the stage, their little feet trying to move in motion with the music, as you, the proud parent, wait with roses in the wings. Watching patiently from your seat, fingers crossed that your daughter, despite her inherited lack of grace, will manage to get through the routine without actually having to break a leg.
It's camera flashes, camcorders, and grandparents galore dressed in Sunday best, all there to witness the moment when your little girl finally gets her moment in the spotlight.
But at our dance school, worshiper of the almighty dollar, things are a bit different for KC's upcoming recital. With two recitals on two different nights, I had to dig deep into the family fortune in order to pay for the first seven tickets at five dollars a pop. Wonderful I thought to myself, forking over the cash to the dance rep, all the while holding my tongue so as not to tell him that the whole paying for tickets in addition to monthly tuition was complete bullshit.
This is what I've figured, which has me regretting not going into the dancing business, despite my two left feet.
Cost of each class per week .... $30.00 ( x two) = $60.00 (x 9 months) = 540.00
Cost of dance clothing/shoes ... $120.00
Cost of costumes for recital ... $55.00 each (x two) = $110.00
Cost of additional items needed for recital ... 50.00
Cost of tickets for recital ... $5.00 each (x as many people in my family who are willing to fork over that kind of money for a junior performance.)
Actual cost of ticket for one person minus the five dollar cover charge ... $820.00.
I will pick my jaw off the floor now. Nough said.
It's camera flashes, camcorders, and grandparents galore dressed in Sunday best, all there to witness the moment when your little girl finally gets her moment in the spotlight.
But at our dance school, worshiper of the almighty dollar, things are a bit different for KC's upcoming recital. With two recitals on two different nights, I had to dig deep into the family fortune in order to pay for the first seven tickets at five dollars a pop. Wonderful I thought to myself, forking over the cash to the dance rep, all the while holding my tongue so as not to tell him that the whole paying for tickets in addition to monthly tuition was complete bullshit.
This is what I've figured, which has me regretting not going into the dancing business, despite my two left feet.
Cost of each class per week .... $30.00 ( x two) = $60.00 (x 9 months) = 540.00
Cost of dance clothing/shoes ... $120.00
Cost of costumes for recital ... $55.00 each (x two) = $110.00
Cost of additional items needed for recital ... 50.00
Cost of tickets for recital ... $5.00 each (x as many people in my family who are willing to fork over that kind of money for a junior performance.)
Actual cost of ticket for one person minus the five dollar cover charge ... $820.00.
I will pick my jaw off the floor now. Nough said.
Flurries of Snow
Alright. It's April and it's snowing. White dandruft drifting down from the sky is enough to make me want to retch up my morning coffee.
And since I've been drinking coffee for the past two days, completely possible, as I've discovered that flavored creamers can only help the taste so much. Nothing like swirling around coffee grounds in your mouth and pretending that you like it, just to get a major jolt of caffeine in the morning.
But one must do what one must do in the daily effort to stay awake. Speaking of that, one must get her arse in gear for work. My record for arriving on time as of late has been pretty sad indeed.
Happy Hump Day.
And since I've been drinking coffee for the past two days, completely possible, as I've discovered that flavored creamers can only help the taste so much. Nothing like swirling around coffee grounds in your mouth and pretending that you like it, just to get a major jolt of caffeine in the morning.
But one must do what one must do in the daily effort to stay awake. Speaking of that, one must get her arse in gear for work. My record for arriving on time as of late has been pretty sad indeed.
Happy Hump Day.
Understanding the Rush
Calling yourself on making a mistake the very moment you are making the mistake can be a disconcerting thing. This morning, KC and I got into it yet again as we tried to make our way out into the world. Forever dragging her heels, her lackadaisical attitude in the a.m. drives me crazy.
I've got somewhere to be. Let's go, let's go, let's go, seems to be my cry each morning as I try to hustle us out the door. Instead my daughter stands stock still like a deer captured in headlights, shoes barely on and untied, fiddling with her half open bookbag, as she greets me with a blank stare, unable to fathom a reason to rush.
Sometimes I think that if I could clamp my hands over my ears and scream - all without upsetting the neighbors - I'd surely stand and yell for a thousand years or more, until the entire weight of my frustrations were spent. Comical or just crazy?
But this morning, little big mouth decided that sass was the way to go. A big mistake when Mom's already in a mood, but at the tender age of 8, my girl is willing to take her chances from time to time. But it was so not the way to go this morning, when option A, B, or C would have been the far better choice. However like her mother, the minor child has a stubborn streak a mile long and the inability to realize that sometimes keeping one's mouth shut is far more advantageous to personal welfare.
So she's grounded. And I'm grounded. And now we can both suffer the night together in anything but peaceful bliss and harmony. Ah well, an early bedtime is bound to make someone happy.
I've got somewhere to be. Let's go, let's go, let's go, seems to be my cry each morning as I try to hustle us out the door. Instead my daughter stands stock still like a deer captured in headlights, shoes barely on and untied, fiddling with her half open bookbag, as she greets me with a blank stare, unable to fathom a reason to rush.
Sometimes I think that if I could clamp my hands over my ears and scream - all without upsetting the neighbors - I'd surely stand and yell for a thousand years or more, until the entire weight of my frustrations were spent. Comical or just crazy?
But this morning, little big mouth decided that sass was the way to go. A big mistake when Mom's already in a mood, but at the tender age of 8, my girl is willing to take her chances from time to time. But it was so not the way to go this morning, when option A, B, or C would have been the far better choice. However like her mother, the minor child has a stubborn streak a mile long and the inability to realize that sometimes keeping one's mouth shut is far more advantageous to personal welfare.
So she's grounded. And I'm grounded. And now we can both suffer the night together in anything but peaceful bliss and harmony. Ah well, an early bedtime is bound to make someone happy.
All In A Day's Time
Good morning Monday morning.
Not much to say good about it, other than I am up, awake and almost ready to face the day, if one doesn't take into account that I have yet to get dressed and am sitting here with a purple bandana on my head, looking all sorts of non-goddess.
The weekend, despite one little flub up, went particularly well. I spent time with Sean, Brenda and Barnes and Noble - all respectively of course - although it should be said that I spent far more money in the company of Brenda than anyone else. A necessary evil I suppose when one takes into consideration that we were shopping for a new spring wardrobe for the minor child.
KC, ever quick to notice a pile of new clothes on the living room table, eagerly tried on every single outfit upon getting home from her weekend at her father's. She's expecting to wear one of her new skirts this morning to school, but I have no choice but to tell her no considering that the weatherman has promised that there will be little to no warm up to today's cold start.
Oh well ... I suppose it's time to pull myself together and get to work. Maybe if it's quiet I'll get time to write another chapter in my it's going to take me a lifetime to write novel.
Any proof readers available out there?
And before I forget ...
Happy Birthday to my sister (the eldest) Amy ... Presents wrapped and awaiting opening.
Not much to say good about it, other than I am up, awake and almost ready to face the day, if one doesn't take into account that I have yet to get dressed and am sitting here with a purple bandana on my head, looking all sorts of non-goddess.
The weekend, despite one little flub up, went particularly well. I spent time with Sean, Brenda and Barnes and Noble - all respectively of course - although it should be said that I spent far more money in the company of Brenda than anyone else. A necessary evil I suppose when one takes into consideration that we were shopping for a new spring wardrobe for the minor child.
KC, ever quick to notice a pile of new clothes on the living room table, eagerly tried on every single outfit upon getting home from her weekend at her father's. She's expecting to wear one of her new skirts this morning to school, but I have no choice but to tell her no considering that the weatherman has promised that there will be little to no warm up to today's cold start.
Oh well ... I suppose it's time to pull myself together and get to work. Maybe if it's quiet I'll get time to write another chapter in my it's going to take me a lifetime to write novel.
Any proof readers available out there?
And before I forget ...
Happy Birthday to my sister (the eldest) Amy ... Presents wrapped and awaiting opening.
College Woes
My kid sister Jodi is trying to make a difficult decision. Stay at the college she is at, or go to the better one that wants her there.
Well, if her older sister's opinion counts ... I say choose SU! (And not just because it's closer to home.)
Well, if her older sister's opinion counts ... I say choose SU! (And not just because it's closer to home.)
Listen For Your Song
There's a black Wurlitzer piano in my father's sunroom and I am jealous, wondering why and for whom it sits ... I'd like to think it could be for me. But yes, I know it's not.
There's something about a piano that draws you to it. Your fingers anticipating the sound of a key press, the way the notes linger in the air. I couldn't help myself and dragged a chair out, my hands instantly recognizing the stretch of an octave from thumb to pinky.
It was like breathing. That first note followed by a second, as I remembered one of the short songs I wrote back in the days of high school music theory class. I wasn't as talented as the rest of the kids in my class. Not like James who could play Mozart without a single page of sheet music. Or a girl like Sarah who could play almost any instrument you dropped into her outstretched hands. But what I lacked for in natural talent, I made up for in feeling, despite the constant jeers I got from my companions.
James liked to think himself King of the Piano. No one could play better than him, no one could play more than him, and my feeble attempts at piano playing often set him on edge. It was almost like hearing his teeth grinding, everytime he realized I beat him to the favored practice room during lunch. But practice I did, over and over again, finding the notes that worked, changing the ones that didn't, until my song took shape.
It was a song that echoed with vulnerabilty and yet the bass line carried a show of strength, an iron will. It sang of being unsure of who I was, and what I could be, all the while carrying the confidence of a spirit that could always mend no matter how many times she was broken.
And even though it might not have been the best, I've always been proud to call it mine.
There's something about a piano that draws you to it. Your fingers anticipating the sound of a key press, the way the notes linger in the air. I couldn't help myself and dragged a chair out, my hands instantly recognizing the stretch of an octave from thumb to pinky.
It was like breathing. That first note followed by a second, as I remembered one of the short songs I wrote back in the days of high school music theory class. I wasn't as talented as the rest of the kids in my class. Not like James who could play Mozart without a single page of sheet music. Or a girl like Sarah who could play almost any instrument you dropped into her outstretched hands. But what I lacked for in natural talent, I made up for in feeling, despite the constant jeers I got from my companions.
James liked to think himself King of the Piano. No one could play better than him, no one could play more than him, and my feeble attempts at piano playing often set him on edge. It was almost like hearing his teeth grinding, everytime he realized I beat him to the favored practice room during lunch. But practice I did, over and over again, finding the notes that worked, changing the ones that didn't, until my song took shape.
It was a song that echoed with vulnerabilty and yet the bass line carried a show of strength, an iron will. It sang of being unsure of who I was, and what I could be, all the while carrying the confidence of a spirit that could always mend no matter how many times she was broken.
And even though it might not have been the best, I've always been proud to call it mine.
Over Due
If you're a thought you will want me to think you and I did ...
~ Tori Amos
A night full of dreams. I know what's in my head now. All the thoughts came to me last night as I tried to sleep. First at one, then at two, followed by three and four until my alarm clock was the last to wake me up at six this morning. Groggy and yet weirdly refreshed, I made my way to the shower with a myriad of voices continuing on with their conversations in my head.
Be honest they said. No more excuses, no more reasons why to weezle out from what it is compared to what you think it could be or even should be. You simply have to stick to your guns. Say the words you haven't said because you didn't want to learn the outcome of honesty.
You're long overdue for understanding.
~ Tori Amos
A night full of dreams. I know what's in my head now. All the thoughts came to me last night as I tried to sleep. First at one, then at two, followed by three and four until my alarm clock was the last to wake me up at six this morning. Groggy and yet weirdly refreshed, I made my way to the shower with a myriad of voices continuing on with their conversations in my head.
Be honest they said. No more excuses, no more reasons why to weezle out from what it is compared to what you think it could be or even should be. You simply have to stick to your guns. Say the words you haven't said because you didn't want to learn the outcome of honesty.
You're long overdue for understanding.
It's Raining, It's Pouring
What is it with me and torrential downpours lately? In a matter of two very short days, I've found myself coming home drenched from the inside out. Perhaps it's time to invest in an umbrella ...
Oh well ... It can't rain all the time.
Oh well ... It can't rain all the time.
Well Rested
Something strage.
I actually slept well last night. Getting up a total of 2 times and no more, without a single dream to remember.
Maybe it's because I forgot to set my alarm. Perhaps not having it on somehow made me feel like I wasn't on a limited time budget for sleep.
That or maybe I should just stand in the rain more often ...
I actually slept well last night. Getting up a total of 2 times and no more, without a single dream to remember.
Maybe it's because I forgot to set my alarm. Perhaps not having it on somehow made me feel like I wasn't on a limited time budget for sleep.
That or maybe I should just stand in the rain more often ...
Coming In From the Cold
It didn't matter that it was raining. Didn't matter that thunder was rumbling right over my head with lightning flashing across the sky. I knew before this weekend was out, I'd end up there eventually.
The rain was cold, dripping from my hair down onto my face. I walked quickly across the grass, immediately regretting my earlier choice of sandals, as I made my way to the familiar headstone flanked by two small evergreens.
"Hello Nannie." I said, bending down to press my hand against the cold concrete where her name was etched. "I can't stay long today. I just came to say hello. Well, more than that really. I need your help again ..." I paused, wiping the rain from my eyes, noticing the tender buds of last years roses coming back to life. "That favor I asked you for in January, you know the one ... Well, I'm not so sure about it anymore. I need you to tell me what to do now. Tell me if I'm doing something wrong, or maybe just remind me of who I am and what I'm worth, cause I just don't know anymore."
I sat there silent for a moment, watching the cars on the Thruway whizzing by and knew I must look crazy. A woman, alone in a cemetery, in the middle of a torrential downpour, talking to a grave.
"I've got to go now Grams," I said to the headstone, "Tell Grandpa I didn't mean to ignore him, I just needed to talk to you today ... I'm sure he'll forgive the girl talk." Touching my fingers to my lips, I brushed my hands across the stone to say goodbye. "I miss you Nannie. A bushel and a peck."
The rain was cold, dripping from my hair down onto my face. I walked quickly across the grass, immediately regretting my earlier choice of sandals, as I made my way to the familiar headstone flanked by two small evergreens.
"Hello Nannie." I said, bending down to press my hand against the cold concrete where her name was etched. "I can't stay long today. I just came to say hello. Well, more than that really. I need your help again ..." I paused, wiping the rain from my eyes, noticing the tender buds of last years roses coming back to life. "That favor I asked you for in January, you know the one ... Well, I'm not so sure about it anymore. I need you to tell me what to do now. Tell me if I'm doing something wrong, or maybe just remind me of who I am and what I'm worth, cause I just don't know anymore."
I sat there silent for a moment, watching the cars on the Thruway whizzing by and knew I must look crazy. A woman, alone in a cemetery, in the middle of a torrential downpour, talking to a grave.
"I've got to go now Grams," I said to the headstone, "Tell Grandpa I didn't mean to ignore him, I just needed to talk to you today ... I'm sure he'll forgive the girl talk." Touching my fingers to my lips, I brushed my hands across the stone to say goodbye. "I miss you Nannie. A bushel and a peck."
All By Myself
If ever there was a day I've felt like Bridget Jones ... Then today would have to be it.
A Nerdy Poem
Every week you doubt it.
Every Monday it seems so far away.
Every Wednesday you're climbing walls looking for escape.
So thank the Lord it's Friday, a two day vacation on its way
Just a mere 8 hours until it's time for play.
TGIF baby, TGIF.
Every Monday it seems so far away.
Every Wednesday you're climbing walls looking for escape.
So thank the Lord it's Friday, a two day vacation on its way
Just a mere 8 hours until it's time for play.
TGIF baby, TGIF.
Where Words and Actions Go Hand In Hand
Sometimes it's the little things that mean a lot.
Do something nice today. Hold open a door, smile when you say hello, tell a friend you're happy to have them around.
Write your family a letter, and fill them in on all the small details that often get overlooked with distance. And if you ask a question - no matter how mundane - stick around and listen, really listen. You just may be surprised by what you hear.
Do something today to make someone else feel special just because you want to, just because you can. And I promise the giving is just as good as the getting.
Do something nice today. Hold open a door, smile when you say hello, tell a friend you're happy to have them around.
Write your family a letter, and fill them in on all the small details that often get overlooked with distance. And if you ask a question - no matter how mundane - stick around and listen, really listen. You just may be surprised by what you hear.
Do something today to make someone else feel special just because you want to, just because you can. And I promise the giving is just as good as the getting.
Pollen Counts
This is me, almost in a better mood than the one I was in last night.
I'd like to think I could blame it on forgetting to take my allergy medication just before I hustled out the door, barely able to close it behind me with hands too full to do anything more than hold on for dear life yesterday.
As usual, it was a rough start to the morning. If only I could get more sleep, seems to be my answer to everything. Not that I think it would actually make a huge difference in me not wasting valuable time when I'm supposedly on a schedule. Still, I'd run over the Easter Bunny for the opportunity to head on back to bed.
Speaking of Easter ... I hope all of you out there had a wonderful one. As for mine, it's almost too comical to speak of. Let's just say that I have absolutely no hankering for any fried rice any time soon. Bleck.
I have 10 minutes to get to work ...
I'd like to think I could blame it on forgetting to take my allergy medication just before I hustled out the door, barely able to close it behind me with hands too full to do anything more than hold on for dear life yesterday.
As usual, it was a rough start to the morning. If only I could get more sleep, seems to be my answer to everything. Not that I think it would actually make a huge difference in me not wasting valuable time when I'm supposedly on a schedule. Still, I'd run over the Easter Bunny for the opportunity to head on back to bed.
Speaking of Easter ... I hope all of you out there had a wonderful one. As for mine, it's almost too comical to speak of. Let's just say that I have absolutely no hankering for any fried rice any time soon. Bleck.
I have 10 minutes to get to work ...
What It Is
This is not a warm and fuzzy blog.
This is a frustrated blog. A blog that wants to stomp its feet and throw itself down on the floor. A blog that wants to be surly and pout. This is a sad blog pretending to be an angry blog because she is a blog disappointed.
This is a blog in need of a new day to change its mood.
This is a frustrated blog. A blog that wants to stomp its feet and throw itself down on the floor. A blog that wants to be surly and pout. This is a sad blog pretending to be an angry blog because she is a blog disappointed.
This is a blog in need of a new day to change its mood.
Sleeping In
No alarm clock tomorrow morning. No mad scramble to get to work on time. No waking up on the wrong side of the bed on the wrong side of the world. Just sleep, glorious sleep until my eyes open on their own accord.
Decisions, Decisions ...
Coming home for lunch today was a definite mistake. Now that I'm here, going back to work is the very last thing I want to do. Napping, on the other hand, sounds likes the beginning of a beautiful idea.
It's like one of those "you choose" stories ...
Does Stacey
(a) Return to work with a positive attitude?
(b) Trudge off to work with a grimace on her face and suffer for the remainder of the afternoon, thereby forcing everyone else to suffer with her?
or
(c) Call work and tell them this girl is gone for the day and won't be returning until tomorrow?
Aaargh! Ten minutes to make up my mind.
It's like one of those "you choose" stories ...
Does Stacey
(a) Return to work with a positive attitude?
(b) Trudge off to work with a grimace on her face and suffer for the remainder of the afternoon, thereby forcing everyone else to suffer with her?
or
(c) Call work and tell them this girl is gone for the day and won't be returning until tomorrow?
Aaargh! Ten minutes to make up my mind.
You say ... I only hear what I want to.
I've got a Lisa Loeb song spinning in my brain this morning. Not quite sure where it came from but the chorus keeps repeating and it's hard to think of anything else.
I should be waking KC up for school, curling my hair and prepping the dishwasher for its morning load before it gets much later. But as usual, I'm pushing things right to the end so I can rush, rush, rush myself right out the door with KC trailing along beside me.
One would think I would want to avoid all that ... And yet nah. I'm beginning to think I like a little instant drama with my cocoa in the morning.
I should be waking KC up for school, curling my hair and prepping the dishwasher for its morning load before it gets much later. But as usual, I'm pushing things right to the end so I can rush, rush, rush myself right out the door with KC trailing along beside me.
One would think I would want to avoid all that ... And yet nah. I'm beginning to think I like a little instant drama with my cocoa in the morning.
All Things Green
Playtime is over boys and girls.
It's back to work on another frigid Monday morning, where in Upstate NY a fresh layer of snow has appeared overnight. Though it's officially Spring, it seems that winter is not yet ready to let go, much to the chagrin of the poor robins hopping around outside trying their best not to freeze.
As for me, I'm desperate to see green. Enough of this white stuff falling from the sky making everyone miserable, when just a little sunshine would make our day.
But it seems we've still got a wait ahead of us. Looks like I'll be brushing up on my patience this week. Well, that or sending condescending emails to the local weatherman.
Hi ho ... It's off to work I go.
It's back to work on another frigid Monday morning, where in Upstate NY a fresh layer of snow has appeared overnight. Though it's officially Spring, it seems that winter is not yet ready to let go, much to the chagrin of the poor robins hopping around outside trying their best not to freeze.
As for me, I'm desperate to see green. Enough of this white stuff falling from the sky making everyone miserable, when just a little sunshine would make our day.
But it seems we've still got a wait ahead of us. Looks like I'll be brushing up on my patience this week. Well, that or sending condescending emails to the local weatherman.
Hi ho ... It's off to work I go.
Movie Madness
Despite the odds being against me, we all made it back safe and sound from the movies. Although I'm thinking that there's got to be something said about going to the movies on your own rather than bringing a gaggle of minor children along.
If you want to get a good seat, you have to get there early. Otherwise you're stuck sitting too close to the screen and you spend the entire movie crossing your eyes just trying to calm your stomach from throwing up with all the up close action flying by.
KC, of course, spent the entire 10 minutes we were there waiting for the movie to begin by whining.
"Mommmmmmm ... When's it going to start?"
"In a few minutes," I whispered.
"It's taking forever," she sighed.
"You're just going to have to be patient. It's going to start in a few minutes. The place is almost full."
"It's never going to start."
"It's going to start. Whether or not you'll still be here to see it remains to be seen," I said, this time giving her the Mom is quickly getting irritated with this whole conversation look.
"Well maybe if you had gotten us candy, I wouldn't be whining," she grumbled, "What's a movie without candy?"
"Affordable."
****
Home On The Range Stacey Rating ~ 2 1/2 stars ... Not the normal Disney film that makes me want to buy it as soon as I leave the theatre.
If you want to get a good seat, you have to get there early. Otherwise you're stuck sitting too close to the screen and you spend the entire movie crossing your eyes just trying to calm your stomach from throwing up with all the up close action flying by.
KC, of course, spent the entire 10 minutes we were there waiting for the movie to begin by whining.
"Mommmmmmm ... When's it going to start?"
"In a few minutes," I whispered.
"It's taking forever," she sighed.
"You're just going to have to be patient. It's going to start in a few minutes. The place is almost full."
"It's never going to start."
"It's going to start. Whether or not you'll still be here to see it remains to be seen," I said, this time giving her the Mom is quickly getting irritated with this whole conversation look.
"Well maybe if you had gotten us candy, I wouldn't be whining," she grumbled, "What's a movie without candy?"
"Affordable."
****
Home On The Range Stacey Rating ~ 2 1/2 stars ... Not the normal Disney film that makes me want to buy it as soon as I leave the theatre.
And Action ...
Heading off to the movies with KC, Jamie and Jordan for an afternoon of family fun ... I must be crazy, or at least delusional at best for volunteering to take the whole brood to Disney's Home on the Range. But I can't resist ...
Updates later on my sanity.
Updates later on my sanity.
On the Snooze
I'm so tired, I doubt even toothpicks could keep my eyes open about now.
All through the night I tossed and turned, yelled at the imaginary people that were pillows and blanketed and de-blanketed at whim.
I dreamed of phoning the job this morning to tell them I wouldn't be in, and saw myself relaxing in bed, soaking in sleep like a cat in a window soaks up sun.
Alas, the knowledge that we are already shorted handed today busted that little bubble of happiness. So I am to work despite myself ... Maybe just maybe if it's not too busy, I can play up for a half day.
All through the night I tossed and turned, yelled at the imaginary people that were pillows and blanketed and de-blanketed at whim.
I dreamed of phoning the job this morning to tell them I wouldn't be in, and saw myself relaxing in bed, soaking in sleep like a cat in a window soaks up sun.
Alas, the knowledge that we are already shorted handed today busted that little bubble of happiness. So I am to work despite myself ... Maybe just maybe if it's not too busy, I can play up for a half day.
April Fool
I wonder what havoc will be had today?
My mind is reeling with a stir of mischief in the air. And I swear, if I see any money on the floor today, I'm just going to walk on by ...
Because really, I'm not that gullible. No ... really I'm not.
Break out the warm fuzzies!
My mind is reeling with a stir of mischief in the air. And I swear, if I see any money on the floor today, I'm just going to walk on by ...
Because really, I'm not that gullible. No ... really I'm not.
Break out the warm fuzzies!
The Wrong Number
Your phone rings. You think you recognize the voice. The way it sounds over the wires, over the distance it used to take to talk to you. You press the phone against your ear, listening as the voice on the other end makes absolutely no sense and realize it's not who you thought it was. Wrong number, wrong time, wrong person, you return the handset to its cradle, wondering what you would have said had it been someone you thought you knew.
So Sleepy
I can't sleep. I tried to sleep. And I know I should be sleeping. It's not that I don't want to sleep. I'd pick my bed over a computer chair any day ... But I'm up, awake, and stringing words together like an old woman knitting yarn.
So isn't it funny that words are what got me into this mess in the first place ... Or am I the only person who wakes themselves up by talking too much in their sleep?
So isn't it funny that words are what got me into this mess in the first place ... Or am I the only person who wakes themselves up by talking too much in their sleep?
Automatic Off
Oh did I have a moment this morning ...
The Scene:
Keys dangling from front door lock. Afternoon rays spilling across the dining room floor. Sound of water splashing in a hollow basin. Me, dropping my purse on coffee table and kicking off shoes as slowly walking towards kitchen. Notice sound of water getting louder. Face screwed up in puzzled expression as turn corner to find water pouring full blast from faucet. Turn hot water handle to shut water off. Realizing left on all day from this morning when it was running prior to dishwasher load. Smack self in head as thought of wasted electricity and water express themselves as dollar signs in my mind. Come to conclusion that other than calling self idiot, nothing much to do about whats already been done. Decide incident is worthy of a blog notation and quickly jot done post before returning to kitchen to prepare tonights meal. (A meal one wouldn't want to burn due to lack of attention.)
The Scene:
Keys dangling from front door lock. Afternoon rays spilling across the dining room floor. Sound of water splashing in a hollow basin. Me, dropping my purse on coffee table and kicking off shoes as slowly walking towards kitchen. Notice sound of water getting louder. Face screwed up in puzzled expression as turn corner to find water pouring full blast from faucet. Turn hot water handle to shut water off. Realizing left on all day from this morning when it was running prior to dishwasher load. Smack self in head as thought of wasted electricity and water express themselves as dollar signs in my mind. Come to conclusion that other than calling self idiot, nothing much to do about whats already been done. Decide incident is worthy of a blog notation and quickly jot done post before returning to kitchen to prepare tonights meal. (A meal one wouldn't want to burn due to lack of attention.)
Angels On Earth
Did anyone else out there watch Extreme Makeover: Home Edition last night?
Sweet Alice got to me.
After watching the dramatic changes Ty and the crew did to her house, as well as their efforts to help others in the neighborhood, I was more than ready to pack my bags and offer my own services to lend a hand. Skills or no skills, I wanted the chance to work beside a woman who cared about her community as much as her family.
And I cried, as did many on the show, as Alice broke down and gave thanks to God and to the show for coming into Watts, for giving her the home she never thought she'd be able to have without having to move far away from where she lived.
I can only hope that the good started in her neighborhood continues to grow and blossom with each passing day.
Sweet Alice got to me.
After watching the dramatic changes Ty and the crew did to her house, as well as their efforts to help others in the neighborhood, I was more than ready to pack my bags and offer my own services to lend a hand. Skills or no skills, I wanted the chance to work beside a woman who cared about her community as much as her family.
And I cried, as did many on the show, as Alice broke down and gave thanks to God and to the show for coming into Watts, for giving her the home she never thought she'd be able to have without having to move far away from where she lived.
I can only hope that the good started in her neighborhood continues to grow and blossom with each passing day.
Throw Open a Window
Ah the sweet taste of spring. The sound of the birds returned outside. The gentle rays of sun warming the window panes, brightening the living room.
Almost perfect.
Save for the fact that breathing is difficult with the full force return of seasonal allergies.
Which is not even to mention -and yes, I am whining now - that I've been down and out with "the sickness" - for lack of a better word to explain why no one seems to know what's wrong with me ... in the medical sense - for these past 2 months with a winter cold that refuses to go away.
So the mere thought of the two combining quite frankly scares me in ways that cannot be mentioned. Because I know they're sitting back laughing just waiting to kick my ass.
Almost perfect.
Save for the fact that breathing is difficult with the full force return of seasonal allergies.
Which is not even to mention -and yes, I am whining now - that I've been down and out with "the sickness" - for lack of a better word to explain why no one seems to know what's wrong with me ... in the medical sense - for these past 2 months with a winter cold that refuses to go away.
So the mere thought of the two combining quite frankly scares me in ways that cannot be mentioned. Because I know they're sitting back laughing just waiting to kick my ass.
Lunch Time Poet
I've been reading a lot of poetry this week. Earlier at lunch, I pulled out my book of Adrienne Rich and sat, feet tucked under, eating an orange as I turned the pages one by one. No one disturbed me, despite the fact that I had chosen the lunch room over the seclusion of my office and a closed door. This in itself a surprise as closed doors sometimes go unrespected and I hadn't much hope that people would be any kinder while I was reading my book out in the open.
But I read. Almost the whole hour, until I was overwhelmed by this feeling that I had to write something I had to say down. Never without pen and paper, words quickly sprawled across a colored index card, covering first the front and then squeezing their remainder on the back. And when I was done, I thought to myself this is good.
Thoughts on Index
Aside from a whisper all words seem like shouting.
It doesn't matter that he couldn't have known this.
You think he should have known, should have
known that a raised voice produced in you
a terror too big to name
Caused you to curl up fetal position
on your side, where the tears
leaked down into the old floorboards,
flooding the basement.
How could he have known ... Aside from the fact
that your hands were wrapped
around your ears and your mouth moved
with the screams welling in your throat.
But I read. Almost the whole hour, until I was overwhelmed by this feeling that I had to write something I had to say down. Never without pen and paper, words quickly sprawled across a colored index card, covering first the front and then squeezing their remainder on the back. And when I was done, I thought to myself this is good.
Thoughts on Index
Aside from a whisper all words seem like shouting.
It doesn't matter that he couldn't have known this.
You think he should have known, should have
known that a raised voice produced in you
a terror too big to name
Caused you to curl up fetal position
on your side, where the tears
leaked down into the old floorboards,
flooding the basement.
How could he have known ... Aside from the fact
that your hands were wrapped
around your ears and your mouth moved
with the screams welling in your throat.
Up In Smoke
Take back my brownie badge, I just about set the kitchen on fire tonight. Proving once again - much to my own personal embarrassment - that when it comes to baking skills, I'm much better off being in charge of licking the spoon.
And yet the sickening smell of baked - burnt - cookies is sticking to the walls. Which leaves me wondering just how long the house is going to stink like this, since KC refuses to leave the door open in the living room long enough for the smoke to filter out.
"Mom," she yells, strutting over to the door and slamming it shut, "It's winter ya know."
I raise my eyebrows, casting her a sideways glance, trying to keep a straight face in light of her over the top attitude.
"Do you smell the smoke?" I ask her, watching as she nods. "Do you really want to smell it all night?"
She shakes her head in a quick no to answer, sniffing at the air, as the light bulb clicks on inside her head.
"Awww Mom! You burnt the cookies again, didn't you?"
Guilty as charged ... Guilty as charged.
And yet the sickening smell of baked - burnt - cookies is sticking to the walls. Which leaves me wondering just how long the house is going to stink like this, since KC refuses to leave the door open in the living room long enough for the smoke to filter out.
"Mom," she yells, strutting over to the door and slamming it shut, "It's winter ya know."
I raise my eyebrows, casting her a sideways glance, trying to keep a straight face in light of her over the top attitude.
"Do you smell the smoke?" I ask her, watching as she nods. "Do you really want to smell it all night?"
She shakes her head in a quick no to answer, sniffing at the air, as the light bulb clicks on inside her head.
"Awww Mom! You burnt the cookies again, didn't you?"
Guilty as charged ... Guilty as charged.
A Recommendation
Two books down ... Both very good, though far different in their appeal.
However I would be remiss if I didn't pass along this title for all to read and experience for themselves. A beautifully written book ...
Digging Out by Katherine Leiner
However I would be remiss if I didn't pass along this title for all to read and experience for themselves. A beautifully written book ...
Digging Out by Katherine Leiner
Hearth and Home
How easy it is to slip back into an old routine ...
Helping KC with her homework, boiling water on the same old stove. Watching the way her small hands clutch the pencil tight within her grasp as she thinks, and then thinks some more before writing her answer down in looping letters. Standing in the kitchen, aware and yet separate from her task as meal preparation gets under way. Taking this small time to myself, to unwind, to relax for a moment without commotion.
Slipping back into the night like a pair of comfortable pajamas.
Helping KC with her homework, boiling water on the same old stove. Watching the way her small hands clutch the pencil tight within her grasp as she thinks, and then thinks some more before writing her answer down in looping letters. Standing in the kitchen, aware and yet separate from her task as meal preparation gets under way. Taking this small time to myself, to unwind, to relax for a moment without commotion.
Slipping back into the night like a pair of comfortable pajamas.
The Lights Are Always On
In the kitchen the teapot is whistling.
Because I cannot sleep, hot chocolate seemed like a good idea. Something warm and comforting, to help ease myself through these last few hours before dawn and the start of a new day.
I tried not to think a lot tonight.
Thinking itself, a destructive force of nature, when one has aimed the target completely at oneself. And so I read, pulling a brightly covered book from the Barnes and Noble bag - where I restocked my arsenal today, much to the chagrin of my debit card - and focused on being somebody else, in a life that bore no similarities to mine.
And for a few small hours, between reading, sleep and restless dreams, I managed to muddle through emotions too big for me to swallow. Reminding myself, as my mother is prone to do, that this too shall pass.
But knowing this hardly ever dulls the pain.
In my head, something that he said still lingers fresh, and I am reminded how cruel words can be, when they are sharpened by a masters swords. I sit here, stifling a bitter laugh. Wondering if the jaded girl inside me forgot that the innocent girl died too long ago to offer an excuse for the world of men, the things they say, the damage they do. How is it I could have forgot?
My bed is calling, my mug of cocoa empty now by my side, my body urges me to sleep, away from thoughts both good and bad. I will write myself a good night poem ...
Today is soon enough for tomorrow,
tomorrow's worries already at my door, a few hours of uninterrupted sleep a gift to myself before my brain demands to think once more.
Because I cannot sleep, hot chocolate seemed like a good idea. Something warm and comforting, to help ease myself through these last few hours before dawn and the start of a new day.
I tried not to think a lot tonight.
Thinking itself, a destructive force of nature, when one has aimed the target completely at oneself. And so I read, pulling a brightly covered book from the Barnes and Noble bag - where I restocked my arsenal today, much to the chagrin of my debit card - and focused on being somebody else, in a life that bore no similarities to mine.
And for a few small hours, between reading, sleep and restless dreams, I managed to muddle through emotions too big for me to swallow. Reminding myself, as my mother is prone to do, that this too shall pass.
But knowing this hardly ever dulls the pain.
In my head, something that he said still lingers fresh, and I am reminded how cruel words can be, when they are sharpened by a masters swords. I sit here, stifling a bitter laugh. Wondering if the jaded girl inside me forgot that the innocent girl died too long ago to offer an excuse for the world of men, the things they say, the damage they do. How is it I could have forgot?
My bed is calling, my mug of cocoa empty now by my side, my body urges me to sleep, away from thoughts both good and bad. I will write myself a good night poem ...
Today is soon enough for tomorrow,
tomorrow's worries already at my door, a few hours of uninterrupted sleep a gift to myself before my brain demands to think once more.
Somebody Else's Words
XXI
Adrienne Rich
The dark lintels, the blue and foreign stones
of the great round ripple by stone implements
the midsummer night light rising from beneath
the horizon - when I said "a cleft of light"
I meant this. And this is not Stonehenge
simply nor any place but the mind
casting back to where her solitude,
shared, could be chosen without lonliness,
not easily nor without pains to stake out
the cirlce, the heavy shadows, the great light.
I choose to be a figure in that light,
half-blotted by darkness, something moving
across that space, the color of stone
greeting the moon, yet more than stone:
a woman. I choose to walk here. And to draw this circle.
Adrienne Rich
The dark lintels, the blue and foreign stones
of the great round ripple by stone implements
the midsummer night light rising from beneath
the horizon - when I said "a cleft of light"
I meant this. And this is not Stonehenge
simply nor any place but the mind
casting back to where her solitude,
shared, could be chosen without lonliness,
not easily nor without pains to stake out
the cirlce, the heavy shadows, the great light.
I choose to be a figure in that light,
half-blotted by darkness, something moving
across that space, the color of stone
greeting the moon, yet more than stone:
a woman. I choose to walk here. And to draw this circle.
The Dreaming Hours
At two something in the morning, some things just become clear. Like no matter how much you might want to change the world, chances are you'll never really make all that much of an impression on the bigger slices of life, trading instead for the smaller moments of clarity that touch only a few.
Tonight I've learned about silence. Not an easy lesson for a girl who likes to talk too much, too loud and too often. But after getting the brush off once again, it became obvious - even to me - that it was time to step back and let the situation fumble around on its own without any further assistance from me.
So I went to bed, called it an early night and tried to focus my mind on anything else other than what's been bothering me today, and much to my surprise, exhuastion finally won out in the end. A much different reaction than what I am used to, since in the olden days, sleep would never have come to such a restless heart.
But to a girl, who is now quite sure that the problem needs to be fixed on the other side of the fence, sleep was the only choice for ending a very long day.
So I'm here, waiting with my own roll of duct tape to help fix whatever has gone wrong, because as I've been told, duct tape can fix most anything unexpected.
Tonight I've learned about silence. Not an easy lesson for a girl who likes to talk too much, too loud and too often. But after getting the brush off once again, it became obvious - even to me - that it was time to step back and let the situation fumble around on its own without any further assistance from me.
So I went to bed, called it an early night and tried to focus my mind on anything else other than what's been bothering me today, and much to my surprise, exhuastion finally won out in the end. A much different reaction than what I am used to, since in the olden days, sleep would never have come to such a restless heart.
But to a girl, who is now quite sure that the problem needs to be fixed on the other side of the fence, sleep was the only choice for ending a very long day.
So I'm here, waiting with my own roll of duct tape to help fix whatever has gone wrong, because as I've been told, duct tape can fix most anything unexpected.
To and Fro
You create this distance, as if you're holding up a hand that says stay right where you are. And I shrink back, waiting again for you to change your mind, allowing me near.
I am holding on, dangling with threads, waiting for a kind word.
I am holding on, dangling with threads, waiting for a kind word.
Winter Doldrums
A little backtracking, a little forward thinking ...
Creatively I am crushed.
A cold. A chronic cough. A fatigue that's settled itself deep into my bones. I'm addicted to cough drops and my bed at an early hour.
I want to feel like me again. I want to laugh until I cry. I want to make silly faces at people in parked cars and fly by buildings ablaze in the afternoon sun.
I want to remember the feel of summer on my face. The smell of fresh cut grass and the sound of mowers buzzing in the distance.
I want the snow to go away.
I want, I want, I want ...
Creatively I am crushed.
A cold. A chronic cough. A fatigue that's settled itself deep into my bones. I'm addicted to cough drops and my bed at an early hour.
I want to feel like me again. I want to laugh until I cry. I want to make silly faces at people in parked cars and fly by buildings ablaze in the afternoon sun.
I want to remember the feel of summer on my face. The smell of fresh cut grass and the sound of mowers buzzing in the distance.
I want the snow to go away.
I want, I want, I want ...
Absent Ringing
Dang it! Forgot to set the alarm last night and now look at me ... Wasting precious moments blogging about how late I'm running, as if that makes any sense at all.
But I don't give a fig. It's not like I'm really rushing around to get myself to work. Today, I'll get there when I get there. Besides there's all that new snow on the roads.
But I don't give a fig. It's not like I'm really rushing around to get myself to work. Today, I'll get there when I get there. Besides there's all that new snow on the roads.
Conditional
Main Entry: [1]con·di·tion·al
Pronunciation: k&n-'dish-n&l, -'di-sh&-n&l
Function: adjective
Date: 14th century
1 : subject to, implying, or dependent upon a condition {a conditional promise}
2 : expressing, containing, or implying a supposition {the conditional clause if he speaks}
3 a : true only for certain values of the variables or symbols involved {conditional equations} b : stating the case when one or more random variables are fixed or one or more events are known {conditional frequency distribution}
No ifs, no ands, no buts. No negative commentary and critique. Just once, stop worrying about what I could be and be happy about who I am.
The world doesn't have to be conditional. Why do you keep trying to tell me that it should be so?
Pronunciation: k&n-'dish-n&l, -'di-sh&-n&l
Function: adjective
Date: 14th century
1 : subject to, implying, or dependent upon a condition {a conditional promise}
2 : expressing, containing, or implying a supposition {the conditional clause if he speaks}
3 a : true only for certain values of the variables or symbols involved {conditional equations} b : stating the case when one or more random variables are fixed or one or more events are known {conditional frequency distribution}
No ifs, no ands, no buts. No negative commentary and critique. Just once, stop worrying about what I could be and be happy about who I am.
The world doesn't have to be conditional. Why do you keep trying to tell me that it should be so?
Springing Into Action
Hold on to your kitchen sinks people, it's cleaning night in this here household.
Armed with nothing more than pledge, windex and an occasionally tempermental vacuum, I promise to get a good start on the spring cleaning before that oh so important first day of spring can arrive.
Not that I really care about spring cleaning ... It just wouldn't do to have the boyfriend come over to a messy house. Besides, he still thinks I'm an organized person ...
Armed with nothing more than pledge, windex and an occasionally tempermental vacuum, I promise to get a good start on the spring cleaning before that oh so important first day of spring can arrive.
Not that I really care about spring cleaning ... It just wouldn't do to have the boyfriend come over to a messy house. Besides, he still thinks I'm an organized person ...
Conversations at Sleepy Time
Golden light streaming through the windows annouces the arrival of the sun this morning, and the fact that I should be just about anywhere other than in front of my computer.
But here I am. And from the looks of it, I'm not going anywhere for the next few minutes, despite the need to finish - or in my case, start - getting ready for work.
I am suffering from lack of sleep again. Other than the normal amount of times I wake up during the night, I added on an additional two more times of greeting the darkness after the sound of my own voice yelling pulled me away from sleep last night.
Which makes me wonder what my neighbors must be thinking, in the rare chance that they can hear me through the walls. Perhaps they say, "Oh ... That's just Stacey. Nothing unusual there." Or maybe they, like me, are just as tired of these nightly battles going on inside my head. In which case I'm sure that they've thought of sticking a pillow over my head a time or two.
I am ever so happy to annouce that today is indeed Thursday, which means the weekend is a mere 16 hours away. Hopefully this weekend will be just as good as last weekend, with the small hope that maybe it will be even better. After all, one must always strive to do something better than they did the day before.
I am to work.
But here I am. And from the looks of it, I'm not going anywhere for the next few minutes, despite the need to finish - or in my case, start - getting ready for work.
I am suffering from lack of sleep again. Other than the normal amount of times I wake up during the night, I added on an additional two more times of greeting the darkness after the sound of my own voice yelling pulled me away from sleep last night.
Which makes me wonder what my neighbors must be thinking, in the rare chance that they can hear me through the walls. Perhaps they say, "Oh ... That's just Stacey. Nothing unusual there." Or maybe they, like me, are just as tired of these nightly battles going on inside my head. In which case I'm sure that they've thought of sticking a pillow over my head a time or two.
I am ever so happy to annouce that today is indeed Thursday, which means the weekend is a mere 16 hours away. Hopefully this weekend will be just as good as last weekend, with the small hope that maybe it will be even better. After all, one must always strive to do something better than they did the day before.
I am to work.
Demand A Post
So damn tired lately, it's hard to think straight. Even harder to write a post that makes sense and doesn't sound like it's being said just to have something to fill all this empty space.
Sometimes it's just easier to talk then it is to type. The minute my hands touch the keyboard, it's like every single thought I had left to think, disappears as if it never was and the conversation in my head that was going just a mile a minute before slows down to something barely even resembling a crawl.
So to hell with it. This isn't about originality tonight. This is all about having a post to post. So much for being a literary genius.
Sometimes it's just easier to talk then it is to type. The minute my hands touch the keyboard, it's like every single thought I had left to think, disappears as if it never was and the conversation in my head that was going just a mile a minute before slows down to something barely even resembling a crawl.
So to hell with it. This isn't about originality tonight. This is all about having a post to post. So much for being a literary genius.
Story Time (By KC)
Once there was a leprechaun named Leo.
One day Leo was going to his friends house. His friends name is Louie.
Leo you are invited to my birthday party, said Louie. The next day Leo found a pot of gold at Louie's house. Leo took some gold so he could buy a present for Louie.
Leo went to the store and bought a present for Louie.The next day Leo gave Louie his present. Leo put the rest of the gold in the pot so Louie wouldn't find no gold in the pot.
Hey, said Louie's mother as she brought Leo to the living room, Leo needs to tell you something.
Louie I took some gold from you.
That's ok you can make it up to me later.
The end
By KC
One day Leo was going to his friends house. His friends name is Louie.
Leo you are invited to my birthday party, said Louie. The next day Leo found a pot of gold at Louie's house. Leo took some gold so he could buy a present for Louie.
Leo went to the store and bought a present for Louie.The next day Leo gave Louie his present. Leo put the rest of the gold in the pot so Louie wouldn't find no gold in the pot.
Hey, said Louie's mother as she brought Leo to the living room, Leo needs to tell you something.
Louie I took some gold from you.
That's ok you can make it up to me later.
The end
By KC
Counter Clockwise
Good morning Sunday morning, pancakes instead of Happy French Toast Day morning by request of KC, little Linda Blair in training.
Talk about needing an exorcist. The minor child was in rare form last night, going overboard on the dramatics in the middle of WalMart and subsequently the car ride home.
Had in not been for Sean, stifling laughter in the front seat, I may not have handled the situation with as much ... hmmm ... I'll say grace, as I did. But being told by your eight year old daughter that she hates you - all because you wouldn't buy her Spy Kids 3D on DVD - is rather hard on the heart, even when you know she doesn't really mean it. Because some words, no matter how much you might not really mean them, can't be taken back once said.
Talk about needing an exorcist. The minor child was in rare form last night, going overboard on the dramatics in the middle of WalMart and subsequently the car ride home.
Had in not been for Sean, stifling laughter in the front seat, I may not have handled the situation with as much ... hmmm ... I'll say grace, as I did. But being told by your eight year old daughter that she hates you - all because you wouldn't buy her Spy Kids 3D on DVD - is rather hard on the heart, even when you know she doesn't really mean it. Because some words, no matter how much you might not really mean them, can't be taken back once said.
Nightmare Movies In My Brain
I'm not going back to sleep. Not now, not ever, not tonight. If I have to drink a hundred thousand mochachinos, there is absolutely no way in Hecla, my head is touching another pillow and falling for that old trick again.
I woke up in a panic, my body contorted into the many shapes of a pretzel, with pillows strewn across the room from here to there. I sat straight up, eyes blinking against the darkness, fumbling for the light beside the bed, breathing a sigh of relief once it was on.
For a moment, I thought I could push the dream from my mind and go back to bed, easing myself back - light still on - against the pillows, dragging my blankets back up to meet my face. I closed my eyes, and was almost falling back into sleep when I heard an ear splitting crash, like the sound of someone taking a crow bar to the back door, the sound of splitting wood.
I jumped up. Alert. And made up my mind in an instant not to grab the baseball bat I have hidden behind my bed. It was after all probably nothing but my overactive imagination and the ripples of a bad dream still lingering on my mind.
But I came downstairs, hugging the railing as I tread softly on the carpet, quickly hitting on the living room light and accessing - as I had expected - that the house was indeed secure, save for my own paranoia.
Still I can't go back to bed. If I go back to bed, the dream will only continue, playing itself out until it's finished and I'm not willing to watch it through the end. The clarity of what I remember is enough to make me stay up and blog all night. Or perhaps do that cleaning I should have done earlier.
Still I have found that one thing always helps to rid myself of a bad dream. Writing it down and wrestling with the demons always seems to work for getting them out of my head. So without further adieu, welcome to my subconscious.
*Reader beware: Not all scenes are intended for younger viewers. If you have a history of inheriting nightmares, please for your own protection discontinue reading immediately. *
Brenda and I were driving. Large buildings flanked the sides of the highway as spider veins of traffic scattered off in all directions. We were traveling West. Everyone seemed to be doing circles around us as we crept along at a snails pace, talking and laughing as I drove. But whirring lights behind us interrupted the whole scene, forcing us to pull over to the side of the road.
A young officer pulled up. "Do you know how fast you were going Miss?"
"36," I told him.
"That's a bit fast for these parts don't you think?" he questioned.
I bit my lip, nervous. "I suppose it might be Officer, but I didn't mean to be speeding."
The young officer smiled, pointing to his partner who was walking around our car, notepad pulled out, his pen making quick flicks across the paper.
"If it were up to me, I wouldn't give you a ticket. Just a warning. But you've got to deal with Sam."
Sam walked over to the window, an older man, gray around the temples, his face stern and showing no sign of empathy.
"I'm going to let you go with just a warning. People in these here parts don't like people who drive like their fresh off the NY Stock Exchange. It might do you well to remember that a lead foot won't land you anywhere except a prison yard with a high fence and a serious lack of scenery. Perhaps it wouldn't be remiss if you girls turned in for the night and got some rest before continuing your little road trip. If I had to offer my opinion, I'd say you're both looking a little tired and weary from the road."
And so we did. We took his advice, followed the highway West again to the nearest hotel and booked two rooms both on the second floor. Exhuasted we opened our doors, giving each other a quick backwards glance.
"See you at checkout," I said.
"See you at checkout," Brenda replied.
The next morning, I wasn't anywhere near to being packed but didn't want to admit that to Brenda who would hold that against me for being late. So instead, I bribed the front office girl to pack my belongings and bring them down to the car for me, while I enjoyed a nice mug of cocoa and a warm continental bagel in the perky downstairs morning room.
Suddenly, breaking the stillness of the morning, came the sounds of rapid gunfire. Spilling my cocoa on the table in front of me, I pushed back against the wall, shrinking behind the giant sized potted plant in the corner as a group of military looking men swarmed from the elevators, spilling out into the lobby before making a mass exitus.
I rushed upstairs, eager to find Brenda. But she was nowhere to be found. My room however was ajar. Slowly pushing the door open, I was greeted with a grizzly sight. The poor clerk whom I had asked to pack my luggage, crumpled over in a bloody mess on the bedroom floor. I whimpered in panic, turning to run.
Outside the parking lot was still swarming with men in forest green camo. I tried walking to my car as if it were any other normal day, an even pace and my head held high, my keys closed in my crushing grasp.
The murmurs began to grow behind me, raising my uneasyness. My car too far away, I quickly opted to borrow a slightly newer model SUV, keys dangling from the ignition like a welcome screen.
By this time, the men around me knew I was trouble, their snarling faces pressed up against the windows, as I held the locking mechanism down and fired up the engine, pealing out in a cloud of dust.
The SUV and I put petal to the metal and tore out of there like there was no tomorrow, climbing up a steep hill, towards an old run down farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, just one small crabapple tree in the side yard.
We'll be safe here I thought to myself, pulling out my son and daughter from the vehicle, holding onto their small hands as we approached the rickety old house.
Inside it was dimly lit, little shards of light seeming spectral as they hit the dust floating in midair. We maneuvered around the room carefully, picking our way throug the debris that covered the floors. Upstairs a voice whispered in my head, as I reached out to find a bannister pressed firmly beneath my palm. Gently urging them on, I ushered the children quickly upstairs.
It was like one giant room. Little nooks and crannies here and there, but for the most part one giant room with a walk-in closet.
"Stay here," I said to my son and daughter, pointing to a worn red couch pressed against the wall. I walked the room, familiarizing myself with its dimensions, coming back only when I was sure I had memorized them in every detail.
"Where's your sister?" I whispered, noticing one empty spot on the couch where I had left them.
"She's in there," pointed my son, towards a door I hadn't seen before.
"You stay here," I said to him sternly, planting a kiss on his forehead. "I'm going to get your sister. I'll be right back."
But when I opened the door, there was nothing underneath my feet other than a free fall down into nothing.
I fell and fell and fell until without any warning I made a splash. And then I was sinking. Down, down, and down, until I was at the very bottom of whatever deep dark place had felled me.
Terrified and cold, it took me more than a few minutes to realize I was breathing underwater and having absolutely no problem doing so. Amazed and yet still very scared, I began swimming in the darkness, my hands reaching blindly for any shape that might resemble my daughter.
But it was the voices I heard that gave me hope. Following their sounds, I was overjoyed to find my daughter laughing in joy with her clammy companions. A weird species, kind of like a cross between a clam, a cow and a walrus. But they were nice, and had protected my child from harm thereby earning my trust.
"Be careful," they warned me. "He'll know you're here."
"Who is he and why will he know?" I wanted to ask, but there was no time. Pocket light from above was penetrating the darkness and I knew it must be my son with a flashlight calling me back up into the unknown.
Long story short because my brain is beginning to crash and this dream needs to be concluded is this ... Upstairs was waiting an evil scientist who was trying to capture my son because he could speak believable Spanish and painted like Picasso, so that he could use his paiting talents to take over the world.
My husband, who was one of the men in the hotel lobby shooting down the innocent, tried to make me believe that he was on my side, all the while planning on double crossing me with the evil mad scientist.
But thanks to my Protector - a man I met on the swim back up - and his ability to astral project all of us were saved from the cluches if evil. And of course, had I finished the dream probably would have lived happily ever after ...
So there you have it. It's all there and pretty scary, but not as scary as it was when I first woke up ...
So maybe it's okay to try and go back to sleep now.
I woke up in a panic, my body contorted into the many shapes of a pretzel, with pillows strewn across the room from here to there. I sat straight up, eyes blinking against the darkness, fumbling for the light beside the bed, breathing a sigh of relief once it was on.
For a moment, I thought I could push the dream from my mind and go back to bed, easing myself back - light still on - against the pillows, dragging my blankets back up to meet my face. I closed my eyes, and was almost falling back into sleep when I heard an ear splitting crash, like the sound of someone taking a crow bar to the back door, the sound of splitting wood.
I jumped up. Alert. And made up my mind in an instant not to grab the baseball bat I have hidden behind my bed. It was after all probably nothing but my overactive imagination and the ripples of a bad dream still lingering on my mind.
But I came downstairs, hugging the railing as I tread softly on the carpet, quickly hitting on the living room light and accessing - as I had expected - that the house was indeed secure, save for my own paranoia.
Still I can't go back to bed. If I go back to bed, the dream will only continue, playing itself out until it's finished and I'm not willing to watch it through the end. The clarity of what I remember is enough to make me stay up and blog all night. Or perhaps do that cleaning I should have done earlier.
Still I have found that one thing always helps to rid myself of a bad dream. Writing it down and wrestling with the demons always seems to work for getting them out of my head. So without further adieu, welcome to my subconscious.
*Reader beware: Not all scenes are intended for younger viewers. If you have a history of inheriting nightmares, please for your own protection discontinue reading immediately. *
Brenda and I were driving. Large buildings flanked the sides of the highway as spider veins of traffic scattered off in all directions. We were traveling West. Everyone seemed to be doing circles around us as we crept along at a snails pace, talking and laughing as I drove. But whirring lights behind us interrupted the whole scene, forcing us to pull over to the side of the road.
A young officer pulled up. "Do you know how fast you were going Miss?"
"36," I told him.
"That's a bit fast for these parts don't you think?" he questioned.
I bit my lip, nervous. "I suppose it might be Officer, but I didn't mean to be speeding."
The young officer smiled, pointing to his partner who was walking around our car, notepad pulled out, his pen making quick flicks across the paper.
"If it were up to me, I wouldn't give you a ticket. Just a warning. But you've got to deal with Sam."
Sam walked over to the window, an older man, gray around the temples, his face stern and showing no sign of empathy.
"I'm going to let you go with just a warning. People in these here parts don't like people who drive like their fresh off the NY Stock Exchange. It might do you well to remember that a lead foot won't land you anywhere except a prison yard with a high fence and a serious lack of scenery. Perhaps it wouldn't be remiss if you girls turned in for the night and got some rest before continuing your little road trip. If I had to offer my opinion, I'd say you're both looking a little tired and weary from the road."
And so we did. We took his advice, followed the highway West again to the nearest hotel and booked two rooms both on the second floor. Exhuasted we opened our doors, giving each other a quick backwards glance.
"See you at checkout," I said.
"See you at checkout," Brenda replied.
The next morning, I wasn't anywhere near to being packed but didn't want to admit that to Brenda who would hold that against me for being late. So instead, I bribed the front office girl to pack my belongings and bring them down to the car for me, while I enjoyed a nice mug of cocoa and a warm continental bagel in the perky downstairs morning room.
Suddenly, breaking the stillness of the morning, came the sounds of rapid gunfire. Spilling my cocoa on the table in front of me, I pushed back against the wall, shrinking behind the giant sized potted plant in the corner as a group of military looking men swarmed from the elevators, spilling out into the lobby before making a mass exitus.
I rushed upstairs, eager to find Brenda. But she was nowhere to be found. My room however was ajar. Slowly pushing the door open, I was greeted with a grizzly sight. The poor clerk whom I had asked to pack my luggage, crumpled over in a bloody mess on the bedroom floor. I whimpered in panic, turning to run.
Outside the parking lot was still swarming with men in forest green camo. I tried walking to my car as if it were any other normal day, an even pace and my head held high, my keys closed in my crushing grasp.
The murmurs began to grow behind me, raising my uneasyness. My car too far away, I quickly opted to borrow a slightly newer model SUV, keys dangling from the ignition like a welcome screen.
By this time, the men around me knew I was trouble, their snarling faces pressed up against the windows, as I held the locking mechanism down and fired up the engine, pealing out in a cloud of dust.
The SUV and I put petal to the metal and tore out of there like there was no tomorrow, climbing up a steep hill, towards an old run down farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, just one small crabapple tree in the side yard.
We'll be safe here I thought to myself, pulling out my son and daughter from the vehicle, holding onto their small hands as we approached the rickety old house.
Inside it was dimly lit, little shards of light seeming spectral as they hit the dust floating in midair. We maneuvered around the room carefully, picking our way throug the debris that covered the floors. Upstairs a voice whispered in my head, as I reached out to find a bannister pressed firmly beneath my palm. Gently urging them on, I ushered the children quickly upstairs.
It was like one giant room. Little nooks and crannies here and there, but for the most part one giant room with a walk-in closet.
"Stay here," I said to my son and daughter, pointing to a worn red couch pressed against the wall. I walked the room, familiarizing myself with its dimensions, coming back only when I was sure I had memorized them in every detail.
"Where's your sister?" I whispered, noticing one empty spot on the couch where I had left them.
"She's in there," pointed my son, towards a door I hadn't seen before.
"You stay here," I said to him sternly, planting a kiss on his forehead. "I'm going to get your sister. I'll be right back."
But when I opened the door, there was nothing underneath my feet other than a free fall down into nothing.
I fell and fell and fell until without any warning I made a splash. And then I was sinking. Down, down, and down, until I was at the very bottom of whatever deep dark place had felled me.
Terrified and cold, it took me more than a few minutes to realize I was breathing underwater and having absolutely no problem doing so. Amazed and yet still very scared, I began swimming in the darkness, my hands reaching blindly for any shape that might resemble my daughter.
But it was the voices I heard that gave me hope. Following their sounds, I was overjoyed to find my daughter laughing in joy with her clammy companions. A weird species, kind of like a cross between a clam, a cow and a walrus. But they were nice, and had protected my child from harm thereby earning my trust.
"Be careful," they warned me. "He'll know you're here."
"Who is he and why will he know?" I wanted to ask, but there was no time. Pocket light from above was penetrating the darkness and I knew it must be my son with a flashlight calling me back up into the unknown.
Long story short because my brain is beginning to crash and this dream needs to be concluded is this ... Upstairs was waiting an evil scientist who was trying to capture my son because he could speak believable Spanish and painted like Picasso, so that he could use his paiting talents to take over the world.
My husband, who was one of the men in the hotel lobby shooting down the innocent, tried to make me believe that he was on my side, all the while planning on double crossing me with the evil mad scientist.
But thanks to my Protector - a man I met on the swim back up - and his ability to astral project all of us were saved from the cluches if evil. And of course, had I finished the dream probably would have lived happily ever after ...
So there you have it. It's all there and pretty scary, but not as scary as it was when I first woke up ...
So maybe it's okay to try and go back to sleep now.
Dragging
KC is singing terribly off key, an original song entitled "Mom Won't Help Me With My Homework Because She's Writing On Her Blog" ...
I wonder if perhaps I should take this as a sign that I have a problem or just enroll the girl in singing lessons before any further damage can be done to my eardrums.
I am in full avoidance however of most everything tonight. The main thing being the current status of my house. Disorganized and messy, the clutter seems to have come from nowhere taking over every little nook and cranny. And I'm not just talking about dusting the angels off.
But alas, I have absolutely no inner motivation to get the job done, let alone started.
I wonder how certain people would feel about blindfolds while visiting.
Oy.
I wonder if perhaps I should take this as a sign that I have a problem or just enroll the girl in singing lessons before any further damage can be done to my eardrums.
I am in full avoidance however of most everything tonight. The main thing being the current status of my house. Disorganized and messy, the clutter seems to have come from nowhere taking over every little nook and cranny. And I'm not just talking about dusting the angels off.
But alas, I have absolutely no inner motivation to get the job done, let alone started.
I wonder how certain people would feel about blindfolds while visiting.
Oy.
Rise and Shine
6 a.m. alarm
Head buried in my pillow, I fumbled around in the darkness trying to locate the snooze button on my new alarm clock, as the insistent shrill ring echoed about the room.
Sleep. Need more. I thought to myself, not bothering to open my eyes, pulling the duvet cover up closer to my face, snuggling back into sleep.
But then a little meow, the touch of soft fur against my hand nudging me awake for attention. The kind of cuteness that you can't ignore.
"Good morning Emma," I said, breaking the stillness of the house. "Ready for breakfast already?" I asked, waiting for a moment as if she would answer. "Come on then, let's go."
Head buried in my pillow, I fumbled around in the darkness trying to locate the snooze button on my new alarm clock, as the insistent shrill ring echoed about the room.
Sleep. Need more. I thought to myself, not bothering to open my eyes, pulling the duvet cover up closer to my face, snuggling back into sleep.
But then a little meow, the touch of soft fur against my hand nudging me awake for attention. The kind of cuteness that you can't ignore.
"Good morning Emma," I said, breaking the stillness of the house. "Ready for breakfast already?" I asked, waiting for a moment as if she would answer. "Come on then, let's go."
Quality Time
Deciding to have a quiet night, KC and I are going to spend the rest of the evening camped out on the living room floor watching Disney movies, under a mountain of blankets since it's freezing cold.
And for tonight, everything else will keep.
And for tonight, everything else will keep.
A Quarter to Call
Frame of mind this morning is not very good.
And unfortunately for me, the one person who could clear up this little bit of confusion, has already started his day hours and hours ago, with no way of being contacted until much later on today.
So if you happen to see him today or happen to be him reading this wondering why I didn't just send you an email - I did last night, only to unsend it this morning - give me a call. I can't make it any easier than that.
And unfortunately for me, the one person who could clear up this little bit of confusion, has already started his day hours and hours ago, with no way of being contacted until much later on today.
So if you happen to see him today or happen to be him reading this wondering why I didn't just send you an email - I did last night, only to unsend it this morning - give me a call. I can't make it any easier than that.
Personal Adaptation
When I was a little girl, I used to play in the woods for hours. I made tree houses and imaginary kingdoms where I was Queen to a group of royal subjects and ruled the world below. I pretended I was an Indian princess, sticking feathers in my brown hair, and tried to walk soundlessly in my moccasin's over the autumn leaves and green growing moss.
I wrote bad poetry in a pocket sized notebook and told stories about the kind of girl I wished I could be. Always pretending I was much braver than I actually was, never admitting to the things that scared me. And I was scared of so many things.
Like most little girls, I was scared of the dark and all the things that existed when there was no light. Shirts turned to monsters, and beneath the bed there was an underworld of evil things, all waiting for the moment when it was beyond my control to keep my eyes open any longer.
But my fear of the dark was nothing compared to my need for acceptance.
Somewhere along the way I came to the conclusion that in order to be loved, I had to earn love. I had to be the best daughter, the straight A student, the responsible friend. A chameleon able to adapt to any situation.
And it was so easy. Easy to change myself into something that someone else could agree with. Easy to simply shut my mouth and forget for a moment I had opinions of my own. Easy to be anyone other than who I was. A girl whose heart was easily broken at the slightest hint of a cruel word or a swift blow.
Because what I never wanted anyone to know was just how soft a heart I had. How quickly I could misjudge a situation, automatically assuming the hurt, rather than think that there could be a different conclusion to my quick synopsis. Because even though I'll question a scenario in my mind a thousand times and then a thousand times again, I'm loathe to come right out and ask the direct question. The question whose answer can sometimes be the one you don't want to hear.
Perhaps a public service advisory would be in order ... Nice girl with tender heart, tread carefully, try not to bruise.
I wrote bad poetry in a pocket sized notebook and told stories about the kind of girl I wished I could be. Always pretending I was much braver than I actually was, never admitting to the things that scared me. And I was scared of so many things.
Like most little girls, I was scared of the dark and all the things that existed when there was no light. Shirts turned to monsters, and beneath the bed there was an underworld of evil things, all waiting for the moment when it was beyond my control to keep my eyes open any longer.
But my fear of the dark was nothing compared to my need for acceptance.
Somewhere along the way I came to the conclusion that in order to be loved, I had to earn love. I had to be the best daughter, the straight A student, the responsible friend. A chameleon able to adapt to any situation.
And it was so easy. Easy to change myself into something that someone else could agree with. Easy to simply shut my mouth and forget for a moment I had opinions of my own. Easy to be anyone other than who I was. A girl whose heart was easily broken at the slightest hint of a cruel word or a swift blow.
Because what I never wanted anyone to know was just how soft a heart I had. How quickly I could misjudge a situation, automatically assuming the hurt, rather than think that there could be a different conclusion to my quick synopsis. Because even though I'll question a scenario in my mind a thousand times and then a thousand times again, I'm loathe to come right out and ask the direct question. The question whose answer can sometimes be the one you don't want to hear.
Perhaps a public service advisory would be in order ... Nice girl with tender heart, tread carefully, try not to bruise.
Saturday: The Big Yawn
I am bored out of my freaking mind. No one is around, no one is home, and I've had all the channel surfing one girl can stand for a day.
What to do? What to do?
What to do? What to do?
Free Day
Oh happy half a day today.
Come 11:30 this morning, I'll be logging off, shutting down and punching out to enjoy the remainder of the weekend work free.
Come 11:30 this morning, I'll be logging off, shutting down and punching out to enjoy the remainder of the weekend work free.
Who'd a Thunk?
You're Watership Down!
by Richard Adams
Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd
be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Someone Other Than Me
Isn't it crazy for me to be sitting here, trying to think of one thing to say, when there's a hundred things I'd like to scream at the top of my lungs.
I'm like a thousand little pieces of me, bundled up like a pack of letters waiting to be dropped into the mail, waiting to be opened, read and responded to.
I used to think I could come here and say whatever the hell I wanted to say, but lately I've come to realize how much censoring I've been doing.
Without the disguise of anonymity, it's become almost impossible to write without holding a lot of myself back.
So the question now is how do I get around this? Do I save all my really personal thoughts to write on my "Other" blog or do I say fuck it and write it all down again here?
I'm like a thousand little pieces of me, bundled up like a pack of letters waiting to be dropped into the mail, waiting to be opened, read and responded to.
I used to think I could come here and say whatever the hell I wanted to say, but lately I've come to realize how much censoring I've been doing.
Without the disguise of anonymity, it's become almost impossible to write without holding a lot of myself back.
So the question now is how do I get around this? Do I save all my really personal thoughts to write on my "Other" blog or do I say fuck it and write it all down again here?
Home Again, Home Again
The best part about going away is always coming home.
Goodnight all. I am seriously exhausted.
Goodnight all. I am seriously exhausted.
Playing Anti-Social
All hail the sweet sound of silence.
Class is over, dinner is done and I'm up here, alone in my hotel room just enjoying the quiet of being alone. Where everyone else is at this very moment in time, I could care less as I am in full do not disturb me mode.
I have come to this conclusiosn: I am ready to go home, and ready to be home.
Which leads me to think that Marco Polo's blood runs nowhere in my veins.
Oh ugh ... Loud voices in the hallway can only mean one thing.
They're back!
Class is over, dinner is done and I'm up here, alone in my hotel room just enjoying the quiet of being alone. Where everyone else is at this very moment in time, I could care less as I am in full do not disturb me mode.
I have come to this conclusiosn: I am ready to go home, and ready to be home.
Which leads me to think that Marco Polo's blood runs nowhere in my veins.
Oh ugh ... Loud voices in the hallway can only mean one thing.
They're back!
Long Day Running
Let me start off by saying ...
I am so tired I could sleep for a week. Not only did they wake me up at an ungodly hour - considering what time I went to bed - but they expected me to be Suzie Sunshine on the zip and go tour of Atlanta.
The question is ...
How many miles did I walk today?
And why was I having bad memory flashbacks of the walking tour in Boston? And why is it always all uphill? (If that's you - MOM - laughing ... You can stop now.)
So I'm making coffee. Yes, coffee. Why it is at this time of night I want to drink a cup of coffee is beyond me. Let's just call it a craving. A crazy craving.
And OWWWW ... Cause I just burnt my tongue! These sort of things do not happen with hot chocolate.
You know, ever since I saw that dateline episode - "JUST HOW CLEAN IS YOUR HOTEL ROOM?" - it's really put a damper on the whole staying out of town luxury feeling.
Last night as I laid my head down on one of the four pillows spread across the king size bed, all I could think about is what I would see if only I were in possession of a blacklight. It took me about two seconds to figure out that in this case, ignorance is bliss. Some things are better left to the unknown.
The room however nice is not home.
Which reminds me ...
I hope someone remembered to feed Emma today, and the fish, and give KC a goodnight hug and kiss from me since it was too late to call her tonight when we got back. It was too late to call lots of people even though the temptation was great. I hope at least they had sweet dreams.
So back to Atlanta ... Where I spent my entire day ... Walking. Nothing compares to being outside in February without a coat, being able to breathe without various body parts freezing and falling off, and seeing the world from a new point of view.
Atlanta is excitement and entertainment. Always something new around the next corner. It's cities underground, architecture that takes your breath away, and some of the friendliest people I have come across in a long time.
You know ... I'm not done posting. But I am done posting. I'm not even going to proof this to see if I've made any sense. More important things have arised.
Until tomorrow. This is Stacey, over and out.
I am so tired I could sleep for a week. Not only did they wake me up at an ungodly hour - considering what time I went to bed - but they expected me to be Suzie Sunshine on the zip and go tour of Atlanta.
The question is ...
How many miles did I walk today?
And why was I having bad memory flashbacks of the walking tour in Boston? And why is it always all uphill? (If that's you - MOM - laughing ... You can stop now.)
So I'm making coffee. Yes, coffee. Why it is at this time of night I want to drink a cup of coffee is beyond me. Let's just call it a craving. A crazy craving.
And OWWWW ... Cause I just burnt my tongue! These sort of things do not happen with hot chocolate.
You know, ever since I saw that dateline episode - "JUST HOW CLEAN IS YOUR HOTEL ROOM?" - it's really put a damper on the whole staying out of town luxury feeling.
Last night as I laid my head down on one of the four pillows spread across the king size bed, all I could think about is what I would see if only I were in possession of a blacklight. It took me about two seconds to figure out that in this case, ignorance is bliss. Some things are better left to the unknown.
The room however nice is not home.
Which reminds me ...
I hope someone remembered to feed Emma today, and the fish, and give KC a goodnight hug and kiss from me since it was too late to call her tonight when we got back. It was too late to call lots of people even though the temptation was great. I hope at least they had sweet dreams.
So back to Atlanta ... Where I spent my entire day ... Walking. Nothing compares to being outside in February without a coat, being able to breathe without various body parts freezing and falling off, and seeing the world from a new point of view.
Atlanta is excitement and entertainment. Always something new around the next corner. It's cities underground, architecture that takes your breath away, and some of the friendliest people I have come across in a long time.
You know ... I'm not done posting. But I am done posting. I'm not even going to proof this to see if I've made any sense. More important things have arised.
Until tomorrow. This is Stacey, over and out.
Leaving On a Jet Plane
Today is the day.
A few last minute things to do, a few last minute things to pack and then I am off to Atlanta (again) although this time with the pleasure of company. A great relief for me, as I am quite convinced that there is nothing worse in this entire world then traveling alone, especially when one is cursed with a horrid sense of direction and the gift of getting lost frequently.
So this is good. Because this means I don't have to put on the tough girl act and pretend I'm confident moving around the Atlanta airport, trying to remember how I'm supposed to find the shuttle that will take us to the hotel. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just going to keep my mouth shut and follow. Toni and Doug can worry about getting us all where we need to be.
Still if I had my choice, I wouldn't be going at all. KC was with her Dad most of the week, and it would be nice to have the weekend to do something special together. But knowing KC, she'll be more than happy to spend time at Grandpa's while I'm gone. (Just as long as I bring her back a surprise.)
I'm still debating on whether or not I'm going to bring my laptop. In the scheme of things, it just becomes another thing to carry, and since I don't know how long these meetings are going to last, I wonder if I'll even get the chance to use it. I guess we'll all find out together if NWTLO gets updated during the next couple of days. If not, it's okay to miss me while I'm gone.
So enough typing already! I better get a move on before the plane takes off without me. Can you imagine trying to explain yourself out of that on a Monday morning?
(Happy birthday Nana. I still miss you more than mere words can say.
Li manco ...
Per sempre e fino alla conclusione di tempo, il mio amore sara eternal.)
A few last minute things to do, a few last minute things to pack and then I am off to Atlanta (again) although this time with the pleasure of company. A great relief for me, as I am quite convinced that there is nothing worse in this entire world then traveling alone, especially when one is cursed with a horrid sense of direction and the gift of getting lost frequently.
So this is good. Because this means I don't have to put on the tough girl act and pretend I'm confident moving around the Atlanta airport, trying to remember how I'm supposed to find the shuttle that will take us to the hotel. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just going to keep my mouth shut and follow. Toni and Doug can worry about getting us all where we need to be.
Still if I had my choice, I wouldn't be going at all. KC was with her Dad most of the week, and it would be nice to have the weekend to do something special together. But knowing KC, she'll be more than happy to spend time at Grandpa's while I'm gone. (Just as long as I bring her back a surprise.)
I'm still debating on whether or not I'm going to bring my laptop. In the scheme of things, it just becomes another thing to carry, and since I don't know how long these meetings are going to last, I wonder if I'll even get the chance to use it. I guess we'll all find out together if NWTLO gets updated during the next couple of days. If not, it's okay to miss me while I'm gone.
So enough typing already! I better get a move on before the plane takes off without me. Can you imagine trying to explain yourself out of that on a Monday morning?
(Happy birthday Nana. I still miss you more than mere words can say.
Li manco ...
Per sempre e fino alla conclusione di tempo, il mio amore sara eternal.)
Dreams
I crave inertia every move made, so I can stop.
Whatever this madness is in me, spinning like a top.
Second night no sleep.
Last night went pretty much like this, except I stayed in bed, eyes open in the darkness, trying to count imaginary sheep in my head.
I think it had something to do with the wolves.
The wolves in my dreams that were biting at my heels as I tried to run away. Hiding under a canopy of gnarled tree branches, that looked like the hands of an old wizard cloaked in twilight, as they growled and mashed their teeth. Showing off the whiteness of their fangs against their dark black coats, as they pressed their circle around me. Coming closer with each footfall.
Is it any wonder why I'm awake? And yet I wonder how this dream is comparable to some of the others I have had.
Take for instance the chicken dream from a week before. I can't remember if I blogged about it or not, despite my need to get it out of my head.
Short synopsis ... It was me and a bunch of baby chicks, standing in the middle of a farm yard, a big red barn to our back, a white house to our side, and a sea of grass that lead to a long road in the distance.
The dream started out sweet. Scattering seed for the babies to eat. The easy sway back and forth of the arm, casting out food in all directions so none went hungry. A calming dream, until the first slither came out of the green, green grass. Forked tongue, angular head, cocked this way and that, breathing in the air.
With lightning speed, the yard soon filled with a hundred snakes, each eyeing the luscious chicks with breakfast on their mind. And though I feared the snakes, I held my ground. Scooping up chick after chick into my arms until not another chick could fit. I thought we were safe. But then the snakes started wrapping about my legs, digging in as they swirled up my side, their open mouths gaping like a black vortex eager to devour chickens.
Which is when - of course - I woke.
But now I'm about tuckered out again, and ready to try sleep out one more time. Perhaps I could dream of something fluffy and nice for a change. Wouldn't that be alright.
Whatever this madness is in me, spinning like a top.
Second night no sleep.
Last night went pretty much like this, except I stayed in bed, eyes open in the darkness, trying to count imaginary sheep in my head.
I think it had something to do with the wolves.
The wolves in my dreams that were biting at my heels as I tried to run away. Hiding under a canopy of gnarled tree branches, that looked like the hands of an old wizard cloaked in twilight, as they growled and mashed their teeth. Showing off the whiteness of their fangs against their dark black coats, as they pressed their circle around me. Coming closer with each footfall.
Is it any wonder why I'm awake? And yet I wonder how this dream is comparable to some of the others I have had.
Take for instance the chicken dream from a week before. I can't remember if I blogged about it or not, despite my need to get it out of my head.
Short synopsis ... It was me and a bunch of baby chicks, standing in the middle of a farm yard, a big red barn to our back, a white house to our side, and a sea of grass that lead to a long road in the distance.
The dream started out sweet. Scattering seed for the babies to eat. The easy sway back and forth of the arm, casting out food in all directions so none went hungry. A calming dream, until the first slither came out of the green, green grass. Forked tongue, angular head, cocked this way and that, breathing in the air.
With lightning speed, the yard soon filled with a hundred snakes, each eyeing the luscious chicks with breakfast on their mind. And though I feared the snakes, I held my ground. Scooping up chick after chick into my arms until not another chick could fit. I thought we were safe. But then the snakes started wrapping about my legs, digging in as they swirled up my side, their open mouths gaping like a black vortex eager to devour chickens.
Which is when - of course - I woke.
But now I'm about tuckered out again, and ready to try sleep out one more time. Perhaps I could dream of something fluffy and nice for a change. Wouldn't that be alright.
Extra 7
I'm setting my alarm for six. No more of this funny business, trying to be cute setting it for five a.m,. as if that's when I might actually get up. When it comes to the snooze button, there's not much that comes between me and an extra 7 minutes of sleep.
On another note, I think there is a good possibility that my neighbor is unofficially missing. I haven't seen Bob and/or his truck in over three days. Which is highly unusual and certainly suspicious. I'll have to ask Sheila - who usually knows everything there is to know - tomorrow morning if I see her in the driveway. Poor, poor Bob.
What a damper on the sweet dreams.
On another note, I think there is a good possibility that my neighbor is unofficially missing. I haven't seen Bob and/or his truck in over three days. Which is highly unusual and certainly suspicious. I'll have to ask Sheila - who usually knows everything there is to know - tomorrow morning if I see her in the driveway. Poor, poor Bob.
What a damper on the sweet dreams.
Shhhh ...
So much for coming up with original thoughts tonight. I'm completely out of anything interesting to blather on about.
So I think I'll retire and call it an early night. Maybe grab a book, grab the cat and find some covers to snuggle under until sleep comes to lay its claim.
Goodnight Moon.
So I think I'll retire and call it an early night. Maybe grab a book, grab the cat and find some covers to snuggle under until sleep comes to lay its claim.
Goodnight Moon.
The Power of Positive Thought
Nothing brilliant happens overnight.
Newton didn't discover gravity until it fell on him. Proving that even a brilliant mind needs a little help from the outside world now and then, to discover something wonderful and new.
Venturing into something new and unknown can be a daunting task. At first you're like a baby, trying to remember how to take that very first step. Reaching out, trying to grab something or someone to hold onto. So scared of falling that you're not willing to let go, not until you feel your feet are back on solid ground.
I've been there ...
A crying mess lying on the floor, convinced at such a tender age that everything good was over, and happiness, if I'd ever known it, was never meant for me. It's hard to feel your worth something, when someone else has you convinced that you're not much of anything at all.
Like breathing underwater through a straw, you take it one moment at a time, drawing breath, filling your lungs, exhaling, until your lungs ache to feel the air again. And you do this, until the tide turns, taking its intoxication back out to sea.
And while life may never be perfect, it gets easier from day to day. Easier to wake up each morning without that pit of dread lying in wait at the bottom of your stomach, anxiously awaiting someone pulling that rug out from under your feet again.
And if it's feeling right, don't waste your time trying to find all the reasons why it could be wrong. Give all you have to give, and take the same that's being offered.
And in other news ...
Happy Birthday Dad!
Newton didn't discover gravity until it fell on him. Proving that even a brilliant mind needs a little help from the outside world now and then, to discover something wonderful and new.
Venturing into something new and unknown can be a daunting task. At first you're like a baby, trying to remember how to take that very first step. Reaching out, trying to grab something or someone to hold onto. So scared of falling that you're not willing to let go, not until you feel your feet are back on solid ground.
I've been there ...
A crying mess lying on the floor, convinced at such a tender age that everything good was over, and happiness, if I'd ever known it, was never meant for me. It's hard to feel your worth something, when someone else has you convinced that you're not much of anything at all.
Like breathing underwater through a straw, you take it one moment at a time, drawing breath, filling your lungs, exhaling, until your lungs ache to feel the air again. And you do this, until the tide turns, taking its intoxication back out to sea.
And while life may never be perfect, it gets easier from day to day. Easier to wake up each morning without that pit of dread lying in wait at the bottom of your stomach, anxiously awaiting someone pulling that rug out from under your feet again.
And if it's feeling right, don't waste your time trying to find all the reasons why it could be wrong. Give all you have to give, and take the same that's being offered.
And in other news ...
Happy Birthday Dad!
Short, Sweet, Simple
Surprisingly I don't have the Monday doldrums today. I'm actually happy to be going back to work. Unusual yes, understandable I suppose, but downright uncanny nonetheless.
And it's all because I feel like Shirley Valentine, a woman known best for talking to the walls in her kitchen.
Perhaps now would be a good time to plan a mid winter retreat to Greece.
And it's all because I feel like Shirley Valentine, a woman known best for talking to the walls in her kitchen.
Perhaps now would be a good time to plan a mid winter retreat to Greece.
Very Superstitious
Far be it from me to say anything for or against today, being that it is Friday the 13th. Some out there would say that today by trade is a very unlucky day. Me ... Well, I'd like to think of it as just another Friday ending an excruciatingly long work week. But then again, I tend to be an optimist, as long as the glass is not half empty.
Of course, that was before my cat (a black one at that) tried to do me in this morning by running under my feet as I was attempting to maneuver the stairs with just one eye open. I'm choosing to think that since she was running in the direction of her food dish, she was just really excited to have breakfast this morning.
KC is already up too, which is unusual for any morning. According to the minor child she couldn't sleep. Perhaps I should give consideration to the fact that there could indeed be something strange in the air. Although if I had to hazard a guess, I'm thinking someone is more excited about having her Valentine's Day party at school and something to do about a boy named Ryan. But I'm not mentioning any names.
An interesting conversation in the office yesterday about Valentine's Day and the single girl. Maggie tried convincing Doug that any single woman would be willing to say "Yes" for a date, if that date happened to be on Valentine's Day. I, on the other hand had to raise some serious doubts on the desperation of single women.
Regardless of holiday, the answer to the question I said could only be determined by the guy asking, as not every woman falls victim to the scent of the red rose in February. A holiday created specifically for the month to drive the American man and the American dollar right into the clutches of florists, gift shops and candy stores alike. Not that I think there is anything at all wrong with that.
I'm just saying that there's nothing wrong with setting one day aside to say to that special someone in your life "Hey, I'm glad your here."
Of course, that was before my cat (a black one at that) tried to do me in this morning by running under my feet as I was attempting to maneuver the stairs with just one eye open. I'm choosing to think that since she was running in the direction of her food dish, she was just really excited to have breakfast this morning.
KC is already up too, which is unusual for any morning. According to the minor child she couldn't sleep. Perhaps I should give consideration to the fact that there could indeed be something strange in the air. Although if I had to hazard a guess, I'm thinking someone is more excited about having her Valentine's Day party at school and something to do about a boy named Ryan. But I'm not mentioning any names.
An interesting conversation in the office yesterday about Valentine's Day and the single girl. Maggie tried convincing Doug that any single woman would be willing to say "Yes" for a date, if that date happened to be on Valentine's Day. I, on the other hand had to raise some serious doubts on the desperation of single women.
Regardless of holiday, the answer to the question I said could only be determined by the guy asking, as not every woman falls victim to the scent of the red rose in February. A holiday created specifically for the month to drive the American man and the American dollar right into the clutches of florists, gift shops and candy stores alike. Not that I think there is anything at all wrong with that.
I'm just saying that there's nothing wrong with setting one day aside to say to that special someone in your life "Hey, I'm glad your here."
The After Effects of Antibiotics
Standing in front of the stove making dinner. Watching the watched pot that is not boiling, as I make silly faces of distress at room temperature water.
Retracing my steps.
Pan ... Check.
Water from faucet ... Check.
Pan on burner ... Check.
Stove on high ... Uhhhh no check.
Breaking into fits of giggles, holding side attempting to breathe. I think I've broke a lung. The pain, the pain!
Spent entire day giggling and laughing like moronic school girl doped up on too much caffeine. Fellow co-workers concerned for mental stability, suggested to seek help. Ignored co-workers in favor of more giggling and other random nonsense.
Went shopping on lunch hour, only to find store I needed to shop at was closed for undisclosed reasons. Thought to self, "DAMN! I needed to shop there." Decided have no other choice but to go back tomorrow and try it all again. Am not happy with the current state of affairs but unable to fight the tyranny.
And yet now the water beckons as it boils and I - being me -must answer the call.
Toodles folks, until we meet again.
Retracing my steps.
Pan ... Check.
Water from faucet ... Check.
Pan on burner ... Check.
Stove on high ... Uhhhh no check.
Breaking into fits of giggles, holding side attempting to breathe. I think I've broke a lung. The pain, the pain!
Spent entire day giggling and laughing like moronic school girl doped up on too much caffeine. Fellow co-workers concerned for mental stability, suggested to seek help. Ignored co-workers in favor of more giggling and other random nonsense.
Went shopping on lunch hour, only to find store I needed to shop at was closed for undisclosed reasons. Thought to self, "DAMN! I needed to shop there." Decided have no other choice but to go back tomorrow and try it all again. Am not happy with the current state of affairs but unable to fight the tyranny.
And yet now the water beckons as it boils and I - being me -must answer the call.
Toodles folks, until we meet again.
Happy --th Bday
Happy Birthday Mom!
Here's to having a wonderful day. Love you more than broccoli ...
YD
PS ... Appointments in March.
Here's to having a wonderful day. Love you more than broccoli ...
YD
PS ... Appointments in March.
In the Middle of the Night
Don't mind me that I'm awake.
Bad dreams have forced me from my warm bed to take solice in sitting here, my eyes squinting from the brightness of the screen to bring this special moment to you.
What was it all about again? The details are growing fuzzy, but I do recall being locked in someone's basement, banging on the pipes with a metal hanger trying to see the little sparrow that was whistling outside the window. All the while hearing the scraping of furniture moving about overhead, as I try desperately to escape.
I've got to wonder if there's any other reason to wonder why I'm up ... You got to just love nights like these.
Bad dreams have forced me from my warm bed to take solice in sitting here, my eyes squinting from the brightness of the screen to bring this special moment to you.
What was it all about again? The details are growing fuzzy, but I do recall being locked in someone's basement, banging on the pipes with a metal hanger trying to see the little sparrow that was whistling outside the window. All the while hearing the scraping of furniture moving about overhead, as I try desperately to escape.
I've got to wonder if there's any other reason to wonder why I'm up ... You got to just love nights like these.
Do Something Nice Today
Help fund Free Mammograms with a SINGLE click.
Get your RAINN gear ... Support the cause.
Join the Network for Good.
And if you have a chance, Save A Duck ...
Get your RAINN gear ... Support the cause.
Join the Network for Good.
And if you have a chance, Save A Duck ...
Pop Culture
Oh God it's another Monday and I would rather do almost anything except go to work.
Today we're making cold calls, or as I like to put it, annoying customers in new found ways at a time when we should be putting more of our effort into stock piling supplies for the inevitable spring rush. But the boss isn't having it and so I suppose I'll have to make a few calls while he's in earshot just to keep him off my back and out of my office.
As for the Grammy's last night, I can't say I found anything overly appealing. The performances - while well done - were often too polished to really take my breath away. Which is not even to mention that some of the musical combinations they came up with were nothing short of bizarre. Take for instance Sting and Sean Paul. Do I really need to say more?
And once again, far be it for the Grammy people to leave a little surprise when it comes to announcing the winners. Like last year, performaces and awards went hand in hand, telegraphing the winners long before the envelope was opened. (More of last year's comments.)
Kudos for Coldplay on winning record of the year and dedicating their win to John Kerry, democratic presidentail hopeful, that he will win the election and take over the country. A cheeky little statement that was of course overshadowed by Timberlake's bogus apology (once again) for ripping off Janet's top. Is it me, or does anyone else question how that could have been unintentional? I should probably mention however, that while the bodice ripping was inappropriate for the venue in which it took place, people need to relax. It was -after all - just a breast.
Not so surprising however, is the fact that Janet seems to be taking most of the heat for the incident, despite the fact that is wasn't her hand that did the deed. It is so much easier to blame the woman, isn't it?
But I must rap this up before I'm late for work. Since I'm in charge of yet another baby shower - taking place today - it wouldn't do for me to be arriving late.
Happy Monday y'all.
Today we're making cold calls, or as I like to put it, annoying customers in new found ways at a time when we should be putting more of our effort into stock piling supplies for the inevitable spring rush. But the boss isn't having it and so I suppose I'll have to make a few calls while he's in earshot just to keep him off my back and out of my office.
As for the Grammy's last night, I can't say I found anything overly appealing. The performances - while well done - were often too polished to really take my breath away. Which is not even to mention that some of the musical combinations they came up with were nothing short of bizarre. Take for instance Sting and Sean Paul. Do I really need to say more?
And once again, far be it for the Grammy people to leave a little surprise when it comes to announcing the winners. Like last year, performaces and awards went hand in hand, telegraphing the winners long before the envelope was opened. (More of last year's comments.)
Kudos for Coldplay on winning record of the year and dedicating their win to John Kerry, democratic presidentail hopeful, that he will win the election and take over the country. A cheeky little statement that was of course overshadowed by Timberlake's bogus apology (once again) for ripping off Janet's top. Is it me, or does anyone else question how that could have been unintentional? I should probably mention however, that while the bodice ripping was inappropriate for the venue in which it took place, people need to relax. It was -after all - just a breast.
Not so surprising however, is the fact that Janet seems to be taking most of the heat for the incident, despite the fact that is wasn't her hand that did the deed. It is so much easier to blame the woman, isn't it?
But I must rap this up before I'm late for work. Since I'm in charge of yet another baby shower - taking place today - it wouldn't do for me to be arriving late.
Happy Monday y'all.
A Moment of Clarity
I am not an afterthought ...
Breakdown in communication can play havoc with the mind. It can make you think stupid things, say even dumber things, and blow most things right out of proportion. Still a valuable lesson can be learned from all of this. Instead of wondering what someone is thinking, it is much easier to ask them, then try to come to a conclusion on your own. It's also is a lot less stressing.
So from now on, I'm going to heed my own advice and keep things simple. (Promises, promises ...)
Breakdown in communication can play havoc with the mind. It can make you think stupid things, say even dumber things, and blow most things right out of proportion. Still a valuable lesson can be learned from all of this. Instead of wondering what someone is thinking, it is much easier to ask them, then try to come to a conclusion on your own. It's also is a lot less stressing.
So from now on, I'm going to heed my own advice and keep things simple. (Promises, promises ...)
Feeling Like an Afterthought
A small amount of disappointment tonight as plans I thought were made for today, changed to plans to happen tomorrow night. It's rough when you spend your entire week waiting for something to happen, only to find that after all the anticipation, you've yet another day to wait.
I suppose I should have said something. Something much more preferable to the nothing that came out of my mouth, in my quiet attempts not to rock the boat. But silly me made not a sound.
The thing is, I'm like a fish out of water with this whole dating business and quite frankly I don't know a thing about playing the game of he said, she said, shouldn't you have known. So when I said, "Yeah tomorrow night is fine," what I really meant to say was, "Tomorrow night is fine but I'm really disappointed I won't be seeing you tonight."
Hanging up the phone, it didn't take me long to feel like an afterthought. The kind of something that someone does when and if they feel like getting around to doing it. And it was not a nice feeling, although I'm pretty sure he didn't intend to make me feel that way. It's just one of those things that couldn't be helped.
You see when it comes to men and the world of dating, I'm not the most trusting girl on the block. I have this little thing about being once burned and twice shy. It takes a lot for me to overcome my initial fears that no matter how good something seems, it will eventually go drastically wrong.
So it should come as no surprise that when presented with a molehill, my first reaction is to see a mountain. The kind of mountain that no girl of any sense would even think of attempting to climb. The kind of mountain that makes a girl want to pack up her gear and go on back home, where the land is flat and proven safe to travel. The kind of mountain that throws the breaks rather than speeding on ...
I guess this is a conversation I should have had with him tonight rather than typing it onto the blog. It just turns out words are easier to type than they are to say. And there's still this small part of me that's convinced I'm shy ...
I suppose I should have said something. Something much more preferable to the nothing that came out of my mouth, in my quiet attempts not to rock the boat. But silly me made not a sound.
The thing is, I'm like a fish out of water with this whole dating business and quite frankly I don't know a thing about playing the game of he said, she said, shouldn't you have known. So when I said, "Yeah tomorrow night is fine," what I really meant to say was, "Tomorrow night is fine but I'm really disappointed I won't be seeing you tonight."
Hanging up the phone, it didn't take me long to feel like an afterthought. The kind of something that someone does when and if they feel like getting around to doing it. And it was not a nice feeling, although I'm pretty sure he didn't intend to make me feel that way. It's just one of those things that couldn't be helped.
You see when it comes to men and the world of dating, I'm not the most trusting girl on the block. I have this little thing about being once burned and twice shy. It takes a lot for me to overcome my initial fears that no matter how good something seems, it will eventually go drastically wrong.
So it should come as no surprise that when presented with a molehill, my first reaction is to see a mountain. The kind of mountain that no girl of any sense would even think of attempting to climb. The kind of mountain that makes a girl want to pack up her gear and go on back home, where the land is flat and proven safe to travel. The kind of mountain that throws the breaks rather than speeding on ...
I guess this is a conversation I should have had with him tonight rather than typing it onto the blog. It just turns out words are easier to type than they are to say. And there's still this small part of me that's convinced I'm shy ...
For those of you who were wondering ...
It's Friday!
Now get out there and get it over with. The weekend is a mere 8 hours away ...
Now get out there and get it over with. The weekend is a mere 8 hours away ...
Back By Popular Demand
If you missed me, rest assured I missed you too during my unintentional absence from the blog. The days just got away from me ...
Which would explain why I've been sleeping more.
Although I do have to say that it probably has to do with all the Nyquil I've been taking since I haven't been able to feel my lungs in the past two weeks, and my throat is threatening to call it quits if even one more Halls thinks of touching the tip of my tongue.
Of course, it could be because I have oodles and oodles to say and yet nary a clue as to where to start. But perhaps the best and most simple reason could be blamed on the local 4-1-1. I could say more, but in this case less is better. Just call me girl of mystery.
So what is going on tonight? Let me tell you ...
KC is eating dinner, Emma is chomping on treats and I'm thinking about the mountain of groceries chilling out in the back of my car. Two more minutes and then I've no choice but to go out and get them since it doesn't seem that they're going to make it in on their own. How unfair is all that?
I wish I had a conveyer belt, or some sort of device that got things from here to there with only a push of the button. That would certainly come in handy for far more many things than just groceries ...
Or perhaps my car is really the refrigerator of the future.
Which would explain why I've been sleeping more.
Although I do have to say that it probably has to do with all the Nyquil I've been taking since I haven't been able to feel my lungs in the past two weeks, and my throat is threatening to call it quits if even one more Halls thinks of touching the tip of my tongue.
Of course, it could be because I have oodles and oodles to say and yet nary a clue as to where to start. But perhaps the best and most simple reason could be blamed on the local 4-1-1. I could say more, but in this case less is better. Just call me girl of mystery.
So what is going on tonight? Let me tell you ...
KC is eating dinner, Emma is chomping on treats and I'm thinking about the mountain of groceries chilling out in the back of my car. Two more minutes and then I've no choice but to go out and get them since it doesn't seem that they're going to make it in on their own. How unfair is all that?
I wish I had a conveyer belt, or some sort of device that got things from here to there with only a push of the button. That would certainly come in handy for far more many things than just groceries ...
Or perhaps my car is really the refrigerator of the future.
Zestfully Clean
Ahhh ... I am quite convinced that there is nothing better than getting out of a hot shower, donning my favorite pajamas, making myself a steaming cup of Earl Gray tea, and popping in a favorite movie to spend a leisurely Sunday afternoon alone, save for one small cat to keep me company.
Emma has a cold. Currently she is sitting right next to me as I type, trying to gain my attention away from the keyboard to get her ears scratched, occasionally eyeing my tea as she walks back and forth in front of the monitor. Normally little miss independent, Emma gets rather clingy when she's not feeling her normal catty self. Poor thing. I shall have to cater to her feline whims today and pamper her back to health.
I'm still trying to decide if I've going to watch the SuperBowl tonight. I'm not exactly a big football fan, but I like to check out the half time show and catch a couple of the mega million dollar 30 second commercial spots, just so I can say I saw them in case the topic comes up around the watercooler at work.
Amy and family may also be dropping over later for dinner. Both Amy and Jen were jealous to hear that I made Chicken Riggies for Sean last week and out of the goodness of my heart, I promised them that I would make another batch just for them. It doesn't hurt that I feel like cooking today either.
But for now, Emma and I are going to retire to the couch, watch my favorite movie, and fold some laundry.
If you do anything today, make sure to spend some quality time by yourself or with those you love.
Emma has a cold. Currently she is sitting right next to me as I type, trying to gain my attention away from the keyboard to get her ears scratched, occasionally eyeing my tea as she walks back and forth in front of the monitor. Normally little miss independent, Emma gets rather clingy when she's not feeling her normal catty self. Poor thing. I shall have to cater to her feline whims today and pamper her back to health.
I'm still trying to decide if I've going to watch the SuperBowl tonight. I'm not exactly a big football fan, but I like to check out the half time show and catch a couple of the mega million dollar 30 second commercial spots, just so I can say I saw them in case the topic comes up around the watercooler at work.
Amy and family may also be dropping over later for dinner. Both Amy and Jen were jealous to hear that I made Chicken Riggies for Sean last week and out of the goodness of my heart, I promised them that I would make another batch just for them. It doesn't hurt that I feel like cooking today either.
But for now, Emma and I are going to retire to the couch, watch my favorite movie, and fold some laundry.
If you do anything today, make sure to spend some quality time by yourself or with those you love.
