I'm sitting here reading articles about Halloween and how some people (that are nuts) are freaking out because Halloween is on a Sunday this year. Dude. Evil.
One lady is qouted in the paper today as bitching about the trick or treating on Halloween and wondering why the city itself did not officially change the day trick or treating was to occur to Saturday, since Sunday is the Lords Day. She is baffled and asks, "I thought this was the Bible Belt?"

(insert me smacking my head against a wall)

It's a goofy holiday. Get over your freak paranoia. I find your paranoia to be far more evil than Halloween itself.

And to all you pagans, Happy All Hollows Eve.

For those of you curious, I offer you this.

SHOCKING!!!!

Luminous is this mind, brightly shining, but it is colored by the attachments that visit it. This unlearned people do not really understand, and so do not cultivate the mind. Luminous is this mind, brightly shining, and it is free of the attachments that visit it. This the noble follower of the way really understands; so for them there is cultivation of the mind.

-Anguttara Nikaya

abortion mini-rant

I am pro-choice. I favor bans on late term abortions. Pretty much anything past 14 weeks is hideous. Abortions themselves are hideous. However, I feel that women should make their choices, not the government. I feel like 14 weeks is plenty of time to make a choice. If you can't decide by then.....
If anyone knows of a reason why it should be allowed PAST 14 weeks, let me know. I am unaware of a reason. I am aware that perhaps a reason could exist. Perhaps a medical reason. Perhaps some crazy circumstance. There should be clauses.
But for the most part....

I'm glad to know the minorities are being considered by the Republicans.

yer drawers are hangin out

What's with the stupid wearing-your-pants-below-your-ass style? I know I'm sounding my age here all of a sudden, but this confounds me.
At first guys were wearing their pants way too big, and their boxer shorts were sticking out the top. A little is actually kind of cute, like in an "oops now you've seen my drawers" kind of way. But then it's gotten to a good 6 to 8 inches of boxers sticking out, and that was ridiculous. Like I told Mr. Wonderful, it annoys me because if I WANTED to see a mans underwear, trust me, he'd KNOW. Mr. Wonderful laughed heartily and said, "Yah, they sure would." To which I gave him a mock evil look.
So yesterday these guys are walking through the parking lot, and it took everything I had to not break into hysterical peals of laughter at them. Well, one of them. He was actually wearing his pants BELOW his ass. I'm sure plenty of you have seen this before and it's not so unusual, but I had not seen this up close and personal yet. Or usually they have on a shirt that covers it all up and all you can really see is the fact that the crotch of their pants is at the knees (or below). But this guy had no shirt on, so it was all hilariously clear. What was truly priceless was the fact that his pants were actually falling down (as one might imagine they would do if you wear them below your ass cheeks) so the only way for him to not drop trow was for him to occasionally grab at his drawers, and to (pause for laughter, excuse me) walk like a freaking penguin. No shit. He's waddling through the parking lot, grabbing at his pants so they don't fall off. I can see his boxers, almost in entirety, maybe a few inches are hidden by pants but barely even that. His round ass is bubbled up ABOVE the waistband. And he's waddling. But trying to swagger the top half of his body so he still looks tough. Fucking hilarious.
WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!?!?!?!
Are these guys ACTUALLY getting laid? Will somebody clue me in here?

The whole thing makes as much sense as if guys were wearing their shirts around their necks. Like, just pull a shirt over your neck and don't put your arms through. Just walk around with it hanging on your neck. Or pull on your socks but don't pull them up so they just flop on the ends of your feet like some floppy dead fish made of cotton. You could wear it with sandals, you know, so everyone could see how totally gangsta you are with your floppy socks.
Oh yah. SssssssssssssssssssssssSEXY!
My point? Please finish getting dressed. Even 3 year olds know where a waistband goes. It doesn't look tough, it just looks like you're too retarded to know how to dress yourself. And that WADDLE. Oh God....(dissolves into laughter again).....

women doing each other, porn, and sexual boundaries

I've been pondering men and their love of women having sex with each other.
I don't think I've ever dated a guy who didn't think it would "be totally ok" if I wanted to have sex with another chick (with or without them watching).
This baffles me.

So I got to thinking about it and came up with this: men so totally do not get it.
They don't seem to understand that women don't just "hook up" with their friends. At least, those that aren't skanky drunks, anyway. There is emotional involvement that detracts from the relationship they're in. It's not simple.

Perhaps they get this delusional thinking from watching porn, where skanky bitches just hook up with their friends while the gardener looks on (and of course, jumps in).

Ugh. My ex had this porn he loved, which I watched with him once (maybe twice). It wasn't very good. Porn? Crappy? Shocking, I know. At any rate, that porn was a great example of why I don't like porn. First, porn is always some set up with strangers. Even if the people know each other, they're still all getting paid to fuck each other, which is gruesome. I mean, I like sex and I like money, but I don't like to mix the two. One may think a nympho might like to. It does seem to be something I would be well suited to, however that whole "Oh my God that's revolting and I think my vagina just shriveled up and fell out in sheer disgust" factor doesn't work for me.
At any rate, my ex had this porno and every new scene was stupider than the last. One was so bad I may never get over it.

Here's the scene: Hot bitch is in kitchen, arguing with her husband. I mean, they are seriously fighting, and yelling horrible things at each other. He leaves. Then her ex (or something) sneaks into the house and screws her in the hallway. Then her and her female friend are talking on the couch and they start doing it. The nasty gardener is looking in the window and then opens the door and starts screwing them, too.
My ex just loved it all.

I was still pondering how that bitch was thinking fucking all those people was somehow going to help her marriage in some way. And when was her husband coming home?
Is this how she handles all their arguments? Are they seeking marriage counseling? Is there really any reason to, considering she's a skanky whore? Is that why he's yelling at her? Does she do this every day? How many diseases does she have? Dude.

(shaking head)
You can see why porn and I do not agree.

At any rate, many boyfriends (yes, plural, there's been plenty, shut up already, ok?)
have mentioned that me having sex with girls would be ok. That they have no problem with it. (rolling eyes) Gee, thanks. Thanks for the permission to be an occasional lesbian. I'll get right on that. I mean, that sounds like a delicately phrased request to me.

Why all the fuss right now?
I have this hot neighbor, and have now had TWO dreams in which she and I were going to have sex. We never did in either dream, but were going to. I have woken up disturbed from both dreams. In both dreams I WANTED to do it, but felt totally guilty and conflicted and kind of grossed out about it all. First, I am a huge fan of the penis. Let's be clear about that. Second, sex without love is really gross for me. Third, I like this girl just fine but there is no love there. Fourth, although I find women to be gorgeous sexy creatures I don't usually have any desire to have sex with them. Maybe in an occasional fantasy but never in real actual life.

So what the hell are the dreams about?

I had a long talk about it with Mr. Wonderful this morning. When I still lived in Asheville, he informed me it was "ok" if I wanted to have extra curricular girl activities.
Does this happen to all chicks or do I have serious lezbo vibes I emit that I am unaware of? I have always had a lot of female friends attracted me. But I've always guessed this was because I have a lot of bisexual friends. Especially in Asheville, which has so many gays and lesbians and bisexuals it's almost odd to be hetero.

I wanted to be a lesbian when I was younger. After being raped, I just thought being a dyke might be easier. No dicks to confuse and frighten me ever again sounded like a really good plan. But after messing around with two of my female friends, I gave up on it. Both times felt lame and contrived. No lust, no feelings really whatsoever. I felt brave and open minded but not turned on. Brave and open minded are not emotions that get me off, I discovered. Blah. Seriously blah.

So today Mr. Wonderful and I are talking about it all and I tell him his "allowing" me to do it confuses me, and makes me uncomfortable, quite frankly. The neighbor swings both ways and has said a few things that I thought were over the line but not outright or anything...and I told him that was confusing to me, because I don't know if she's hitting on me or just being unabashed about her body in a way I am not. But whatever it is, if a man said things like that it would be totally ass whooping time. So why is it ok if it's a girl? I told him the blurring of that line is really not ok to me. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. "Supposed to" being the key. How I feel is one thing, but I don't know if I'm being bad in dreaming about her. He listens to everything I say and finally tells me I am not allowed to have sex with any girls. I fall relieved onto his chest and say, "Thanks, that's all I wanted you to say." And he says, "I know."

So I see her later and I feel much better. There is no pressure for me and now I can enjoy being her friend. Even if she IS hitting on me, even if it DOES turn me on a little, no one is expecting me to fufill a sexual fantasy and I can just relax.

Does any of that make sense?
I know it's rambled a bit lately. I keep trying to blog but when I get the chance to I have forty different things to blog and they all get mashed together into one incohesive blob.

Maybe the dreams will stop. Maybe next time I'll just do her in the dream and not be so freaked out, like I'm supposed to do it in real life. Maybe taking away the imaginary pressure to do it will make it just disappear. Who knows.

All I know is I feel better.

The day before Halloween is a great day to see a lot of men in drag at K-Mart.

mu

A monk asked, “The mountains, the rivers, and the great earth-from where did all of these things come forth?”

Tiantai said, “From where did this question come forth?”

-Zen’s Chinese Heritage



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From www.dictionary.com:


2. /moo/ The correct answer to the classic trick
question "Have you stopped beating your wife yet?". Assuming
that you have no wife or you have never beaten your wife, the
answer "yes" is wrong because it implies that you used to beat
your wife and then stopped, but "no" is worse because it
suggests that you have one and are still beating her.
According to various Discordians and Douglas Hofstadter the
correct answer is usually "mu", a Japanese word alleged to
mean "Your question cannot be answered because it depends on
incorrect assumptions".

Hackers tend to be sensitive to logical inadequacies in
language, and many have adopted this suggestion with
enthusiasm. The word "mu" is actually from Chinese, meaning
"nothing"; it is used in mainstream Japanese in that sense,
but native speakers do not recognise the Discordian
question-denying use. It almost certainly derives from
overgeneralisation of the answer in the following well-known
Rinzei Zen teaching riddle:

A monk asked Joshu, "Does a dog have the Buddha nature?"
Joshu retorted, "Mu!"

I'm not sure I even know where to start.
Loss of words? Unheard of, I know.

My job: I hate it.
My boss: Horrible asshole.
My attitude: shit.
My apathy: all time high.
My moral fiber: Eroding in the face of evil.
My empathy: compromised due to pain.

Seriously, where do I even start? This ones gonna ramble.
My job blows. My boss is nuts. He yells at me (and everyone, not like I'm not special here). When he isn't yelling, he is frequently using some sarcastic demeaning tone to imply I am somehow more stupid than he is. This, my friends, is simply impossible. As I pointed out to him (angrily) yesterday, he acts as if I'm a jackass for not knowing how to do something, yet no one EVER trained me so how exactly am I supposed to do it? Oh, right, I'm NOT. So copping attitude about shit is unacceptable. He apologizes. And then goes right on doing it. Fucking asshole.
The thing of it is, I don't think he even gets what I'm saying at all. I don't think he even GETS that he's an asshole. Some assholes get off on it and shit. I don't think that's his deal at all. I think he is so socially and emotionally retarded he honestly has no clue.
Unfortunately, this also means he has no way of altering his behavior. I mean, how do you fix what you are unaware of in the first place? Yyyyyyaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.........
Anyway, on and on it goes, day after day, and it never ends. And it has slowly worn me down to the point I am now, which is raw.
And it suddenly occurs to me why I'm not going whole hog looking for a new job: I'm paralyzed by this shit. The way I feel is like a deer caught in the headlights. I'm so stunned and dazed I don't seem to know to get out of the way anymore. The constant onslaught has totally fucked up my ability to act or something.
Hmmm...more thought on that later.
Anyway, I come home from work pissed off and resentful, spend the majority of my night pissed off and resentful, then add in fearful and freaked out (having panic attacks again, no wonder why, eh?), wake up fearful and freaked out, then go back to work and start being pissed off and resentful again.
Shit, I'm fucking angry all weekend. It never ends. I can't even drop it and enjoy my time off anymore, I just hate him so much.
I never want to go back. And yet I keep getting up every day and walking back in that door.
The thought of not having to go back makes me want to cry with joy and relief.

~sigh~

Mr. Wonderful just started a new position at work, supervising. Although he is qualified and capable, it's still stressful. So I've been trying to hold back a lot of my work concerns so I don't stress him out. I tell him some stuff. He looks pensive and angry and tells me he wants to go smash my boss head in. Me, too. But him worrying about me is pointless. The point is: I need to leave.

In the meantime, I come home and realize how badly it's affecting me. I'm lost in my own little angry world, and easily startle, and am easily annoyed, easily hurt. Mr. Wonderful can say one thing with an irritated tone and I'm in tears. The other day he was trying to explain to me how hackers hack into computers, and was getting irritated that I didn't understand it. The tone in his voice completely freaked me out and I shut down, and teared up, wanted to curl into a ball and bawl. He looked at me and saw what happened and apologized. Where I used to be able to carry on a frustrating conversation, now I just curl up and cry. I can't handle anything anymore. My emotional flexibility is annihilated right now. My usual state of empathy is difficult, because I'm so occupied with protecting myself it's hard to come out of this shell.

And all I want to do at work all day is destroy. Like, I want to steal all his shit, burn the place down, undercharge everyone, just give his crap away. This man is so wretched, I want him OUT of business. I want to destroy the black hole of employment he has created. Everyone there is miserable. Everyone hates him. Most people quit. Well, we all will eventually, some of us sooner than others. One kid told me tonight he was quitting. I congratulated him and said good job. I meant it wholeheartedly.

I'm having a hard time looking for something that's just during the hours my son is in school.
I keep thinking if I just spend enough time in meditation and prayer something will show itself to me.
It's hard to be in meditation and prayer when numb. And furious. And vengeful.

~sigh~

Tonight I was so upset I just curled up on the floor next to Mr. Wonderful while he was on the computer. I didn't even want to be 5 feet away. I just wanted to bask in his protective sphere and know no one will yell at me, berate me, just for a little while....

That's sad.

After he fell asleep later, he rolled over and pulled his hand away (I was holding it while he fell asleep). I immediately started crying. Then I got up and came in here.
Started looking for jobs. Checked my e-mail to see if anyone had some words of love and encouragement to bolster me (nope).

I'm so frightened and hurt I am deep in my shell, and it's hard to feel loved in here. Hell, I'm even upset that my son hasn't been spending much time with me lately. He's so in love with Mr. Wonderful he's been spending all his time with him. While this is wonderful and all, I need some love right now.
Poor pitiful me.

I've got to get out of there. Or I may go ballistic.

If, in your course, you don’t meet
your equal, your better,
then continue your course
firmly,
alone.
There’s no fellowship with fools.

-Dhammapada, 6, translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu.


And therefore I must quit my job.

scary things to frighten your small children with

blogging from work...

One of the girls I work with wanted me to relate this story of Mr. Crazypants:

A customer asked about one of our items and the girl working here informed her she couldn't really show her the item as it was currently broken.
Got all that?
Ok.
So Mr. Crazypants reems her out and informs her that "We NEVER tell anybody something's broken! It's just not working!"
The customer, meanwhile, is cracking up, and says, "Well, obviously that's the same thing...."

Insanity.
I'm telling you.

blogging from work:

Why am I here?
I don't mean it in the cosmic way of life itself, I mean why the hell am I at this job?
As much as I totally fucktabulously HATE this job, I haven't been overwhelmingly prodded to find a new job. I find this behaviour conflicted.

I like the people I work with. Well, other than my boss, who is an ill behaved asshole (is there any other kind?). I think that may be part of it. When I moved here, I knew no one other than Mr. Wonderful, so the kinship of co-workers has been really nice. And it's really easy for us to be bonded against a commom enemy, so that's been smooth, too.

But I've started having panic attacks again, constantly on gaurd and waiting to be yelled at, or belittled or whatever.

Not good. More later, gotta open the door.

It is my belief that whereas the twentieth century has been a century of war and untold suffering, the twenty-first century should be one of peace and dialogue. As the continued advances in information technology make our world a truly global village, I believe there will come a time when war and armed conflict will be considered an outdated and obsolete method of settling differences among nations and communities.

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama

from e-mail:

CAT HAIKU

The food in my bowl
Is old, and, more to the point,
Contains no tuna.

So you want to play.
Will I claw at dancing string?
Your ankle's closer.

There's no dignity
In being sick, which is why
I don't tell you where.

Seeking solitude
I am locked in the closet.
For once I need you.

Tiny can, dumped in
Plastic bowl. Presentation,
One star; service: none.

Am I in your way?
You seem to have it backwards:
This pillow's taken.

Your mouth is moving;
Up and down, emitting noise.
I've lost interest.

The dog wags his tail,
Seeking approval. See mine?
Different message.
Oh to be a cat.

My brain: walnut-sized.
Yours: largest among primates.
Yet, who leaves for work?

Most problems can be
Ignored. The more difficult
Ones can be slept through.

My affection is conditional.
Don't stand up,
It's your lap I love.

Cats can't steal the breath
Of children. But if my tail's
Pulled again, I'll learn.

I don't mind being
Teased, any more than you mind
A skin graft or two.

So you call this thing
Your "cat carrier." I call
These my "blades of death."

Toy mice, dancing yarn
Meowing sounds. I'm convinced:
You're an idiot.

Pictures from Crazyland

I hate my job.
It is official.
Today, to make myself feel better, I made a sign and placed it around work, taking pictures. The other employees got in on the action, and hilarity ensued. Unfortunately, since it is all recognizable, I can only show you this one:



I think you get the idea.

Friendster

Signed into Friendster. Fun goofy stuff to stare at and ogle peoples total weirdness.
Also interesting: Mr. Wonderful is in there. So are his ex girlfriends and various indiscretions. In fact, his whole profile is alien and bizarre to me. It's like peering into his past, back to a time when I may have had a total crush on him but would never have dated him. He was....a mess. So it's totally weird to look at that stuff, and the "I love you"s he posted in his ex's profile and all that crap.

Friendster:
Really weird thing.

But fun.
Fun.

I'm sure it'll wear off pretty quickly. Until then....

So much to say, so many blogs to give you! (hangs head) I am sorry. I am very busy.

Currently I am waiting for my sheets to dry, which is why I am awake at 12:13 am on a Monday morning (technically).

Oiy.

Hmmmmm...nope. I got nothin'. You'll just have to be patient.

Went to the Virginia Beach Marine Science Whatever-It's-A-Long-Name Place today....

Sadly, most of my pictures didn't really come out. And the things I loved most of all didn't come out because I was so entranced I never even took a picture of them. That would be the sea turtles. The sea turtles were so incredibly beautiful I cried. A few of them came up to the glass and would just stare out, and it choked me up completely. I can't really even explain it. I felt them. The sea otters I felt. The sting rays I felt. I actually LITERALLY felt the sting rays. Oh my God are they cool! They zoom around the tank and you can reach in a touch them! So they go flying around and you reach in the water and they feel like wet mice. Like wet mice with wings that fly under water. They delighted me, wholeheartedly. I giggled, I laughed, I loved. I could have pet them for hours.
Aaaahhhhhh.

By the way, the Whatever-Has-A-Long-Name place is mostly marine science, not so much aqaurium. Kinda lame in that sense. I was hoping for TONS of tanks, but there's only a few, and lots of educational exhibits. Ehibits are great, but I have never been to a real aqaurium so that was what I wanted to see. Alas. But I did get to see some REALLY cool stuff.
Yay!

latest searches

To pull up my blog:

"drinking dissolved Xanax"

"Keith Urbans girlfriend" (again! Is she hot, or what? What is the deal?)

And my new favorite:

"Cabbage Patch kid born November"

What the hell??

When you ride in a boat and watch the shore, you might assume that the shore is moving. But when you keep your eyes closely on the boat, you can see that the boat moves. Similarly, if you examine myriad things with a confused body and mind you might suppose that your mind and nature are permanent. When you practice intimately and return to where you are, it will be clear that nothing at all has unchanging self.

-"Actualizing the Fundamental Point" by Zen Master Dogen

from an e-mail:

A woman over 30 will never wake you in the middle of the night to
ask,"What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think.

If a woman over 30 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around
whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And it's usually
something more interesting.

A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is,
what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30
give a damn what you might think about her or what she's doing.

Women over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you
at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if
you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can
get away with it.

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what
it's like to be unappreciated.

A woman over 30 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women
friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend
because she doesn't trust the guy with other women. Women over 30
couldn't care less if you're attracted to her friends because she knows
her friends won't betray her.

Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a
woman over 30. They always know.

A woman over 30 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true
of younger women or drag queens.
(Editors note: I have known drag queens who look divine in red lipstick, so I cannot agree)

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 30 is far sexier than her
younger counterpart.

Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you
are a jerk if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where
you stand with her.

Being a woman of 30, I liked this list. It's nice to have some attributes recognized.
It reminds me, over the summer I was noticing how crappy it is that young women have no real appreciation of their bodies. Their bodies are the most gorgeous they (might) ever be, yet they are self conscious and miserable and awkward. Years later they will look back onto their former collagen perfectioned state of youth and sigh.
So which is better, I ask you? The woman who LOOKS perfect but feels awkward, or the woman who is less than perfect but comfortable nude?
Being 30, I already know the answer to that one. And I wouldn't change a single stretch mark to go back.
Not one.

WONDER TWINS ACTIVATE!

It seemed like every time the Wonder Twins did their whole "Activate!" thing, the brother always had some lame thing he turned himself into. "Form of...a bucket of water!"..."Form of...a turkey sandwhich!"
What was his deal, anyway?
Can someone tell me?

It occurs to me I am a fairly simple creature:
a clean house,
a full kitchen,
a good book
and sex
are really all I require for happiness.

Maybe a tall glass of water, too.

Who loves Google?

I betcha this guy certainly does.

fabulous qoutes from the mouth of Mr. Wonderful:

(referring to my nether regions)
"Put away your evil mind control flower!"

Which obviously signifies that this dork is my soul mate.

spider blog

Here's a picture of a brown recluse, from a web site I was researching earlier:

And here's a (fuzzy) picture of the spider I got out of my kitchen and tossed out onto the porch today:

Sorry about the fuzzy picture. It's hard to take pictures when your hands are shaking.

I saw him, was frightened and revolted, grabbed a broom to scoop him up, he jumped off the broom, I completely freaked out and got him up again, and finally got him outside. Every time he moved I wanted to vomit (I am a pretty serious arachnophobe) but kept repeating, "It's a creature of God, it's a creature of God" in the hopes that would somehow make it less hideous.

At any rate, I did not kill Mr. Recluse. I did fling him off of our 3rd story balcony, however. I debated it. He is poisonous. But since I couldn't know without a shadow of a doubt that he was
a)poisonous and
b)going to bite someone,
I really couldn't justify his execution due to my fear. My girly-screaming fear. I screamed so loud in fact, my son screamed like a girl in unison.
Then I took pictures and flung him into oblivion.

(Hopefully) THE END.


ps) I looked up "arachnophobe" to be sure of the spelling, and it says "An abnormal fear of spiders" to which I poo-poo'd. Abnormal? Come now.

Each form, each particle, is a Buddha. One form is all Buddhas. All forms, all particles, are all Buddhas. All forms, sounds, scents, feelings, and phenomena are also like this, each filling all fields.

-Pai-chang

If you're respectful by habit,
constantly honoring the worthy,
four things increase:
long life, beauty,
happiness, strength.

-Dhammapada, 8, translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu.

Because we all share this planet earth, we have to learn to live in harmony and peace with each other and with nature. This is not just a dream, but a necessity.

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama

My my my has my poor little brain been full of shtuff.

First, thanks Faye for the kudos. I scrolled down over my link in her blog and laughed. You rock too mama.

A blog she had a little while back got me to thinking about religion and religious tolerance, which in my mind means being accepting and respectful of someone else's religious beleifs, regardless of my personal feelings about their religion.
Faye's blog made me realize it all depends on how intelligent and tolerant THEY are.
Faye and I have very different religious beleifs. And yet I find her to be witty, insightful, compassionate and intelligent. Does her religion matter to me? Nope. Whatever way she gets there works for me. This is pivotal, however, on how she treats me and my religious beliefs. And she is very respectful.
Can I consider myself tolerant if my tolerance depends on conditions? I don't know. An eye for an eye isn't tolerance. But it seems to me that it's not so simple as a knee jerk reaction to someones treatment of me.
I'm getting in over my head here. Specifically, I'm searching areas of my own psyche I really haven't the energy to properly delve.
Anyway, I wanted to share this song I've been grooving on.

For Faye- (and everyone else, but especially Faye!)
thought you'd love this one:



India Arie
************************************

Strength, Courage & Wisdom Lyrics
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Inside my head there lives a dream that I want to see in the sun
Behind my eyes there lives a me that I've been hiding for much too long
'Cause I've been, too afraid to let it show
'Cause I'm scared of the judgment that may follow
Always putting off my living for tomorrow

It's time to step out on faith, I've gotta show my faith
It's been illusive for so long, but freedom is mine today
I've gotta step out on faith, It's time to show my faith
Procrastination had me down but look what I have found, I found

Srength, courage, and wisdom
And it's been
inide of me all along,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of me

Behind my pride there lives a me, that knows humility
Inside my voice there is a soul, and in my soul there is a voice
But I've been, too afraid to make a choice
'Cause I'm scared of the things that I might be missing
Running too fast to stop and listen

It's time to step out on
faith, I've gotta show my faith
It's been illusive for so long but freedom is
mine today
I've gotta step out on faith it's time to show my
faith
Procrastination had me down but look what I have found, I
found

Strength, courage, and wisdom
And it's been
inside of me all along,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of
me

I close my eyes and I think of all the things that I want to see
'Cause I know, now that I've opened up my heart I know that
Anything I want can be, so let it be, so let it be...

Strength, courage, and wisdom
It's been inside
of me all along,
Strength, courage, wisdom
It's been inside of me all
along, everyday I'm praying for:

Strength, courage, and wisdom
To find me, yeah,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of me

I found it in me, I found it finally
I'm sure to keep it'
cause I like it, I say thank you

hrrrrrrmph!

Going through some papers, found an old journal. Paper! I know! But when a girls away form her computer, she's gotta do what she's gotta do...
At any rate, it was about the X. And one of the fights we got in. And how he was acting like such an ass. And then another part where I decided that even though he was an asshole, apparently I was going to blame MYSELF for the whole argument, and excuse his crappy behavior, and ...and...
Reading it I was irate. How could I not see it? How could I excuse it? How could I...well, how could I???
And I wonder what is WRONG with me?
(pause, shaking head)

Ahhhhhh....

(treats self with more forgiveness and continues)

So I'm debating, after chucking that journal into the trash, why I keep these things? I mean, my theory has always been that I must keep these things to LEARN from them. But is it learning, really? Or some kind of bizarre punishment? I mean, am I learning it by rereading it? I suppose I'm having this realization about my own motivations, so perhaps I'm learning something....

(gets dizzy from following train of thought)


Uhh...yah.

I'm gonna go be quiet now.

Co Dependency Revisited

Hmmmm.

Work is perplexing me.

Mr. Crazypants has been out of town for a few days. Although this has been a nice break, I feel more stressed out than ever. Maybe because I'm taking a huge responsibility running things (during the day anyway) while he's gone; maybe because I am the only one with a key and have spent the last few days both opening and closing. Last night the alarm was messed up; one of the girls told me she checked all the doors, but obviously didn't, and it took another 30 minutes to get the alarm set correctly. Ugh.

I don't know.
I don't know exactly why it is I feel stressed...

Maybe because it's been nice with him gone but it's only a matter of time before he is back and being an asshole.

Perhaps it's dread of his return.

(pause)

When I went to pick up Mr. Wonderful from work, I told him all about this and that, and Mr. Crazypants yelling at me over the phone (because he's insane and had a control freak out via his cell phone), and how one of our deliveries canceled because he fucked it up, and they're calling ME asking me what happened and I don't know....

Anyway, almost as soon as my loverboy got in the truck I went off, in rapidfire-speak, and had no idea how stressed out I was until I realized I felt like I was compulsively yakking on and on. I even tried to stop. I really felt like I was holding back a flood with a paper cup....

And Mr. Wonderful, in return, got really stressed out and worried, anxious.

So, I am thinking that there is no way in bloody hell that this job is worth disrupting the balance of my family.

Also, last night and tonight I have had to come home and still work, and finish up phone calls and computer work, to make sure everything is done correctly, since some matters have been left in my hands and I am very serious about responsibility.

So maybe my usual ability to leave work at work is currently impossible for me (not impossible, but impossible for anxious little me).
I mean, I come home and I'm still it work mode, trying to do everything as quickly as possible and kind of freaked out if things aren't lightning-efficient.

That's a load of crap.

But what do I do?

(pause, and sigh)

Here's this guy, who is ridiculously unorganized. I can help. Hell, as far as he would see it, I could perform miracles. But he is resistant to change. So do I bother?
Perhaps organization is my gift. But in this case I don't see any effort being made on his part, so I am, in essence, pushing the river. Why?
I really love to create order out of chaos. And I am truly good at it. And he would be grateful, incredibly so, and rightly so.
Is it the gratitude I seek?


~~~later that same evening~~~

I had to go close up at work. While I was getting everything shut down, I was talking to one of the other employees about the conflict I'm having. And it suddenly occurred to me what I'm doing: another codependent relationship. I'm so used to be involved with alcoholics that it hadn't even dawned on me yet. The relationship I have with my boss(and the one ALL the employees have) is codependent. Yes, we're all trying to save a sinking ship, but WHY? What is the motivation to do so?
Well, I can only speak for myself (and God knows, I will!); I'm acting out my own codependent issues. Most of the relationships I've had have involved someone who needed some serious freaking help. I offer it. They do not appreciate it, because they AREN'T actually SEEKING it. I see them as an obvious case of Needs Help, they don't want to change/are afraid to change/refuse to change. I am baffled, because from my view of Outside Perspective, I can clearly see that their situation is fixable if only they would do (whatever). They are so caught up in the drama of their experience, they have no desire, nor are they even open to suggestions.
I bang my head against the wall in frustration. I resent them. I want to perform miracles; they aren't allowing it. The situation stagnates, and festers. My resentment builds; their resistance builds. Nothing occurs but both parties are more miserable then when it all started. Help turns into hindrance.

So. I am pretty proud of myself for seeing this in a matter of 4 weeks. I mean, when you look back on some relationships I've had, and the length of time it took me to recognize this pattern, this is pretty amazing for me.
Good job, me.

Now....where do I go from here?

Obviously I have to leave. But to do what?

Stay tuned for future revelations.

After my confession of yesterday, I feel strangely lighter.
Hmmm.
Perhaps, integrated.
Yes.

talking to dead people

Or more specifically, them talking to me.

Ok.

It's time to broach a subject I have much trepidation about, but today seems to be the day.
I hear dead people. They talk to me.
As far as I know, they always have. I doubt I had normal invisible friends like other kids; mine were passed on.
Um....

I didn't know I had this ability until I was about 20, maybe 21. I had a girl I knew tell me some crazy story (whose details...I don't know, it's so personal, I'm not sure I can alter the details enough to feel ok telling it) about hearing her dead friend crying, and she was really traumatized about it. I thought it was weird, but didn't think too much of it at the time. I didn't really know her all that well. I mean, it was the first time we had ever hung out, and she goes off about hearing her dead friend crying and is all emotional; it's kind of weird, you know?
Anyway, I keep thinking about what she said. For weeks afterward. It seemed like whenever I was alone I kept turning it over in my mind, but I didn't know why. Finally one day I was home alone and taking a bath, and over and over and over it's running through my head. I'm thinking I'm really weird for being so oddly obsessed about it. I mean, I don't really CARE is the thing, just that I keep THINKING about it. So. There I am in the bath tub, and I finally look up to the ceiling and ask (out loud), "WHAT?!?" And I immediately have this image of her friend, the one who died. And she's smiling. And has this attitude, like, "Finally! All right! You figured it out!" And I think it's weird now I'm daydreaming about talking to her dead friend, but decide this is better than running over the same conversation, so what the hell?
Her friend tells me what had happened. She tells me I must tell the girl that she talked to me and explained everything, and that everything is ok. I realize that would mean I have to go tell some girl I barely know that her dead friend is talking to me while I'm taking a bath and here's what she said: and will likely wake up in the hospital after she finishes beating the crap outta me. I think this whole thing is a bizarre daydream. Her friend says, no. I tell her I don't know about all this....I'll have to think about it.
So I do. For weeks. And her friend reappears, over and over and over and over....
She's always very nice. I decide I will try, if given the right opportunity.
Fate intervenes and me and the girl end up in a caravan of people all going to Atlanta to see our friends band play at a club there. All night I am nervous, seeing if a moment presented itself. Of course it did.

There comes a point where it is just the two of us sitting out on the deck. There are other people nearby, smoking crack, I think. They don't pay much attention to us. I take a deep breath and say, "Look, I have to tell you something. I don't know why the hell this is happening to me or whatever, but I have to tell you because otherwise I may lose my mind here. I may have already lost it...." And stumble on like that for a minute. I finally tell her what her friend said. I am afraid to look at her, afraid she's going to punch me in the face(she was a bad ass chick with a motorcycle, and intimidating. And gorgeous.) but she is silent, staring at me. I think about her friend. I look up at the sky. I tell her what I needed to say, then notice how few stars there are in the Atlanta sky. I see a jet flying overhead, really high up. And without a single thought in my head, I turn to her and say, "And she says to do this" and punch her, hard, in the shoulder. At which point I am totally aghast, thinking my ass is toast, until I realize she is crying. She is staring at me, totally freaked out, but crying. She chokes out, "She used to always do that....." and I start crying. I am not crying for her, or her friend, but more for the sudden realization that it's not some flukey thing that I can dismiss as chance, but that I am actually channeling her dead friend.
We both kind of sit there stunned for a little while, and smoke. We both wander back inside and never speak of it again. Never even talk to each other again, as best as I can remember.
Her friend, I still hear.

I have heard a few more people since then. Well, I hear lots of people, but I have listened carefully to a few. Frankly that freaked me out so much I have never really WANTED to listen to them again.

I knew someday I would have to come to terms with this and accept that I am not like other people. And use this ability to do good. Not live in fear of persecution or misunderstanding.

I have thought about this a lot since meeting Mr. Wonderful, as his dad talks to me a great deal. I have told him a few things his dad has said, but it's always insanely emotional for me. The first time it took me 15 minutes to pull myself back together and quit crying and shaking. Why, I don't know.

Maybe his dad is trying to help me work on this. I don't know.
What it is for exactly, I don't know.
Why me, I don't know. But it IS me, and it IS and there you have it.
Um, I don't know what else to say about it right now. There's actually pages I want to write about, but it's past midnight and I should be asleep. I just really didn't want to go to sleep with this still pacing in my brain.
More.
Soon.

quick note

So much to write about, so little time have I found to write it in.

The Buddhist philosophy at work is working better, it seems. As long as I remain unattached to any outcome, there is no disappointment. Hmm. The same philosophy as I was taught in Al-Anon, come to think of it.
More about that later.

So there are annoying people at work. Mostly ok. Mmm. I just had to close since Mr. Crazypants is out of town, and the girl who works at night is a spiteful pile of malice. YUCK. I'm guessing she won't be there long. No one seem particularly enamored of her, and if they were I might have to question their sanity. She really is vile.
Other than that, the people working there now seem to be mostly ok. There's a couple of slackers, but none as bad as when I first got there.

Mr. Crazypants is still crazy, however since I confronted him with his crappy behavior he has managed to tone it down a bit, and when he slips he comes back to apologize. Not a fix, but a definite improvement.
Still not somewhere I long to be for any length of time, but interesting in the meantime.

So much to say, no time to do it. Maybe I'll get to it later.
I've got some big thoughts brewing.
It's time to share.
I'll get back to you.

If we have...presence of mind then whatever work we do will be the very tool which enables us to know right and wrong continually. There's plenty of time to meditate, we just don't fully understand the practice, that's all. While sleeping we breathe, eating we breathe, don't we? Why don't we have time to meditate? Wherever we are we breathe. If we think like this then our life has as much value as our breath, wherever we are we have time.

-Ajahn Chah, "Taste of Freedom"

little miss smartypants and fire safety

It's hard to be smarter than other people. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, read no further. JOKE! I'm kidding. Sorry, that one was too easy, I couldn't resist.
I have had this discussion with a few people over the last few weeks. Then I had a glorious example played out at work the other day, and since it still confounds me when I think of it, I feel I must share.

A lady called up to complain about the candle she bought from our store. (I'm using "our" loosely here.) When I asked her what was wrong with it, she said it burned down her table and part of her carpet. I gape and ask her what in the world happened. She says, "Well, I lit it and set it on the table, then went to take a shower, and when I came back my table and carpet were on fire!" I am actually speechless for a minute. I manage to pull it together and ask her what she set it on exactly, and she says, "The table!" I again am speechless. I must know, and so I ask, "You're saying you set the candle directly onto the table?" She is getting exasperated with what must appear to be my total doofusheadedness, and says, "YES!" I am again speechless, but starting to get the hang of this. So many things are racing through my brain, like WHY would you set a flaming hunk of wax onto a table with NOTHING beneath it but another flammable object? Why would you then leave it and go take a shower? Why, when you came back and found your shit on fire, would you actually call up the company who sold it to you and tell them exactly what happened (I mean, make up a story that doesn't make you sound like a dumbass, come on!), and THEN ask them to pay for your table and carpet. Oh yes. That is why she called.
I stand there and blink for a second, and manage to say as politely as I can muster, "Ma'am? Did you read the label on the candle? Because they all say "Do not set candle on flammable objects" and "Do not leave burning candle unattended"." She pauses. Says, "No, but I've done this with ALL the candles I've bought from you." I ask, "So you would like our company to do what....?" and trail off, very nicely, no sarcasm, but perhaps a tone of incredulousness. She says, "I want to know if you're going to reimburse me for my table and carpet! It was a very nice table!" (Obviously, that's why you're setting flaming wax candles directly on it...) Despite the fact that I am trying to clue her into the fact that she is absolutely 100% without a shadow of a doubt responsible for her debacle, she still wants to speak to a manager. I'm trying to save her from further embarrasment here, but she isn't catching on. I tell her, "One moment, I'll go get him, please hold," and wander off, amazed and disappointed a bit.
At any rate, Mr. Crazypants told her the same thing, although he seemed to be trying to smooth it over, whereas I could only express amazement. Of course, I had warned him so he knew what was coming. But still...
It's 5 days later and I'm still shaking my head over that one.
Wow.

Buddhist musings:

This morning I got to thinking more about Buddhist teachings, and how to incorporate them into my life. Again, I ran into the same stumbling points I always do.
I was thinking particularly about work, and how it's not peaceful, and how I should work somewhere more peaceful to help me attain peace. Ah, but me, never one for the easy route, no sir! So I thought to myself, if I can achieve a state of peacefulness while being in the midst of chaos, I will REALLY have accomplished something. I mean, how hard is it to feel peaceful in a meadow of butterflies? But in a chaotic noisy environment filled with discord and yelling, now THAT would be affirming.
Hmmm.
I don't know about this job, as any reader of my blog would know. And yet, I feel I have come to it for SOME reason, for SOME purpose. Perhaps I can use it as a testing ground for the things I am trying out. This job, unlike the rest of my life, is of little consequence to me. So it is sort of a safe testing place. And frankly, I would rather manifest chaos at work to work out my feelings than manifest chaos at home.
Hmmm.
Also, it is possible I do not need chaos at all to prove to myself anything, and my head is up my ass. Also a possibility.

So, I discuss my feelings with Mr. Wonderful this morning. I tell him it is very difficult for me to not be attached to the outcome. It is difficult for me to not feel judgmental when faced with such....such.....crap. He advises me that my attachment to the outcome is my downfall, and my judgment also. He tells me we are all humans trying to be happy and find joy and manipulate the world around us in an effort to find joy and create it in the way we deem correct, and for that, we all suffer. To not be attached to the outcome is joy.
(Hmmmm.)
To view another human being with compassion is joy. That is peace. For me to view my angry boss with compassion, to see him as he truly is; a fellow human trying desperately to achieve happiness. That will set me free.

It's a tasty morsel, this idea. I'll be chewing on it for awhile, methinks.
I'll let you know.

revolting

Click on the link.

I personally am all about people paying child support. But this, THIS is just sick. I can't beleive the person who came up with this didn't get backhanded in the meeting, much less that this made it to actuality.

Revolting.

ivory

Africa has just enabled a new and improved ban on ivory. We'll see how THAT goes. At any rate, I wondered who in the world is still buying ivory. I mean, HELLO? The tusks of elephants? Could you BE any more selfish? Anyway, my self righteous judgments aside, I started thinking back to the baby grand piano we had as a kid which had, as all pianos did back then, ivory keys. It was down in our basement, and I would spend many hot summer afternoons holed up in the dark basement playing that thing. I loved setting my cheeks on the keys, so smooth and cool to the touch. I loved the ways the keys felt on my fingers. At the time, I knew nothing about how ivory was "made" and I'm sure I would have felt guilty about it even back then.
24 years later (or so) I can still remember the way those keys felt. And so I wonder, does my appreciation for ivory contribute to my defense of elephants? I so love ivory, which properly belongs on elephants, not a piano (or anywhere else).
I don't know. I had a big thought here, but Mr. Wonderful and my son are discussing Yu-Gi-Oh behind me. It's very distracting.
And cute.

Crazyland update:

Wow. Blogger takes FOREVER to load!!!

Anyway,

Went to work. That should be noted, as I didn't really feel like I should do that ever again, but I did. So, I went to work. I opened. I worked by myself for the first hour or two. I rearranged things, played the music I wanted to, and pondered the fact that I felt like BEING there was traumatizing. As if I could sense myself from the day before, cowering and raging and nervous and freaked out. Then one of the new girls/old girls came in. (She used to work there and God only knows why she would come back.) Although my initial impression of her was not good, I found working with her to be ok. She's a little work horse, and that impressed me. ~Shrug~ We'll see.
At any rate, boss man shows up (Mr. Crazypants) and he's busy with this and that and so am I. Finally a slow moment so I ask him what happened yesterday. He looks at me, somewhat blankly. He asks what I'm talking about. I say, "The yelling? The sarcasm? The way you were storming around being an asshole?" He looks infuriated that I am calling him an asshole, and whatever, that's his choice. I explain, "I understand if you were stressed out. I really do. And you need to understand that I am here to HELP you. Which I was trying to do. But I cannot be of much help while you are yelling at me and being sarcastic. No one can. You had all of us running around freaked out and screwing stuff up, afraid you were going to keep yelling at us. AND your customers were commenting on it. I'm not sure if you understand how much of that comes across. When your customers are asking me if you are an asshole and what your problem is, I really don't know what to say."
He blinks. He says, "I'm sorry they have to see that. But they don't know what I'm going through. None of you do. You don't know that while I'm trying to answer your question I have four other people that need my help, while 3 people are on hold on the phone waiting for me and I have this and that to do..." I say, "No, I DO understand that. Which is why I'm trying to help you. But I can't stand being talked to like that..." to which he interrupts and asks, "Like what?" I stare at him for a second, then kind of laugh, and say, "Uhhh, you want a LIST?" He says, "Yes." (I should have known, crazy little bastard.) So I start in about the "half a girl" comment, and about the lights....and he lowers his head over the "half a girl" one, and says, "I...I don't know....what that was about. I'm sorry. Your work here...I appreciate so much...I don't know why I said that." I tell him I don't know either, but I say it with defiance. About the lights, he doesn't remember "going off about it..." but I tell him he did. He says he merely mentioned it, I tell him ,no, he went off on a four or five sentence tirade about it. He says, "Well, it's important! I feel like I'm the only one who noticed these things! And if I go turn it back on myself then no one learns anything from it!" Ok, I understand. But the tirade? He says he only remembers asking me if I noticed them.
(rolling eyes)
At any rate, we didn't get to finish the conversation because people were coming in and the phone was ringing. I consider him sufficiently warned though. That's all he gets.

I don't feel settled about it because I did not get to say all I had to say. I did get him to "promise" he wouldn't ever do it again. SNORT! As if I believe that!

On another note, I rang up a big sale today and totally screwed it up. I did the wrong price (which he noticed and was upset, but didn't yell) and totally forgot the sales tax (which I'm hoping he never notices). I thought about pointing that out so I could fix it, but then decided if he doesn't notice it, I don't care. I'm going to consider it his bad karma working it's hand through me. I did not do it on purpose, mind you. But I'm ok with it, all around.
That's sad.

GO TO THE BOOBIE THON

Go. Look at boobies. View the boobies. Love the boobies. Pay money to see more boobies, all the while supporting breast cancer research.
Boobies for a cause.
Does it get better than that?

Crazyland update:

Almost forgot:
One of the things that pissed me off so very greatly today was my boss interrupting me while I was with a customer. He is yelling all the way across the store, and telling me to walk over to a certain area. I follow what he's telling me, as I am looking for something in particular for this customer and I'm assuming he's trying to show me where it is. No. I get to an aisle and he yells, "STOP! LOOK UP!" and then, "WHAT DO YOU SEE?" And then proceeds to yell, again- from across the entire store, where everyone can hear him, that there is a strip of lights turned off. Since it is my job to turn these lights on in the morning (and I did) he is annoyed that they are off. The thing of it is, I DID turn them on. Whoever turned off the back room lights also flipped those off (I know this because I went back to turn them on and it's pitch black back there, so someone turned those lights off, also), so this asswipe is not only yelling across the store, making himself look like the Lighting Nazi, but is yelling at me for something I didn't even do, and he's doing it all while I am with a customer. Who is staring, somewhat slackjawed, and I turn to him and say angrily, "I'm terribly sorry, I have to go turn some lights on. I'll be right back." He was NOT pleased, and rightly so.
Seriously, is my boss a fuckwad or what?

I tell all this to Mr. Wonderful who is infuriated, and tells me I can tell my boss to fuck off at any point I want and walk out. He adds, "We can go down there RIGHT NOW if you want!" I say no, it's ok. I will deal with it myself. It is all part of my lesson, my learning to stand up for myself. Although his protecting me feels awesome, it is I who needs to learn to protect me. And so the entire afternoon and evening (and I'm sure, night) I am running through this in my head, planning what I will say tomorrow.
I will give him one chance to prove himself worthy.
That is all he's allowed.
He will get one benefit of the doubt, and that is all.

from the Asheville Citizen Times:

Wynn's friend, Beau Gunn III, 32, of Spartanburg, S.C., wasn't impressed with either candidate but said he'd probably pick Bush in November.

"I'd rather hang out with Bush than Kerry," he said. Asked if he'd rather hang out with Kerry, Bush or the band, Gunn said, "I'd rather hang out with Pearl Jam."

Because, everyone knows, when it comes time to vote for a president, you should vote for the person you would most want to hang out with. Their presidential qualities are irrelevant.

UGH.

Crazyland update:

~sigh~

I'm back to the assumption that my boss is a total coke addict.

Today was fine. Many days have been fine. But then he had a truck of stuff to unload and about 45 minutes before that, he starts calling every few minutes, flipping out about this or that, and generally driving me and the other gal totally batshit. At one point I'm talking to him on one line while she's talking to a customer on another line and he suddenly starts yelling, "What is she saying!? That's no way to talk to a customer! What is she talking about?!?" To which I reply, "I wouldn't have any idea, since I'm not having her conversation right now", as sarcastically as I could, to which he yells, "Let me talk to her!" And I explain that she's kind of busy, you know, talking to a customer right now. As I'm talking, he's already yelling something else. I pull the phone away from my ear, and listen to him sound like a squeaky mouse for a minute. I hand the phone to her and say, "He wants to talk to you NOW." She looks like she may kill him. I may kill him. This was, by the way, AFTER he explained to me that he has two girls doing the job that HALF a girl could do.
HALF a girl.

Let me get something straight: me and this other girl were busting ass, and no one was there to help us. Most of the other employees don't do ANYTHING at ALL. So for him to insult the two hardest working employees he has was pretty fucking foolish.
We were both already pissed.

She called him up shortly thereafter and told him to fuck off, that she's not taking his crap. He apologized to her. I got no apology. Of course, I didn't tell him to fuck off. It matters not anyway, since he came in and was being a total asshole for the next 3 hours (at which point I left). He continued to heap insults on us, telling us he said things he didn't, and saying things like, "You know, let me tell you how I do things around here, although it SEEMS like you would have figured these things out by NOW but I guess NOT...."

(insert a most evil expression from moi)

He even got into it with me and the other girl, trying to make us both feel stupid for not understanding what he said, when he "So clearly said blah-blah-blah" when he actually said something completely different. So there is me and her both looking him in the face and saying, "No, that's not what you said" and him saying, "No, no, that's what I said" to which I explained that what he THOUGHT he said made sense, whereas what he ACTUALLY said made NO sense, hence both she and I being confused. "We're both very smart, and if you ACTUALLY said that we would have known what you were talking about..." I informed him. He stared at me for a second, then turns around and mumbles, "Yah, whatever, anyway...."

I came very close to telling him, "You know what? I am your employee, I am NOT your bitch." Which...I may still tell him tomorrow.

Tomorrow we are having a little chat.
THAT is for certain.

I am going to explain to him that I have no need to work somewhere with sarcasm and ridicule, nor will I. Either he can talk to me with respect or I'm gone. I am going to ask him if he's capable of that. If not, buh bye.
What a pile of fucking bullshit.

things that make me cry:

The movie The Christmas Story (you know: "You'll shoot your eye out, kid!"), the part where Ralphie finally flips out and beats the crap out of the bully. He's cussing a blue streak till his mom grabs him and is shaking him, yelling "Ralphie! Ralphie!" and he just stares at her for a second, those big blue eyes all welled up...
gets me every time.

home?sickness

Tonight we went on a group excursion to K Mart (editors note: you know you have reached the very pinnacle of lameness when K Mart becomes an adventure). As we're coming out, we smell wood smoke. I stop. I smell deeper. I am so suddenly overcome with homesickness for Asheville I want to drop to my knees and bawl in the parking lot.

I refrain.

I do tear up, and Mr. Wonderful (being ever true to his name) gives me the cutest most concerned face and asks, "Baby, what's wrong?" I tell him I'm feeling puny. For I am having a conflict of emotion.

We get home and I sit at the window and stare out into the dark coolness of the night. I look up at the pitiful amount of stars you can see here. I was hoping to smell the woodsmoke even at our house, but I can't. Maybe I'm glad. I don't know.

It's weird, because I don't know what it is I miss. I don't want to go back to Asheville. I have fond thoughts of it now and then but the majority of my memories are unhappy. It's odd that I would feel so strongly about it.

It's the mountains themselves that I miss. I miss the land. I miss the comfort of being tucked away inside the hills, safe (although I'm not sure how safe I would have felt now with all the flooding that occurred). I miss the wilderness, I miss standing on the side of a mountain and looking out at trees and more mountains as far as I can see. I miss the birds singing me awake every morning, and the crickets singing me to sleep. I miss the crazy cat that used to come visit me and drive me batshit. I miss driving down a curvy mountain road after it rained and looking up at the trees tangled with kudzu and feeling like I lived in a rainforest. I miss wondering if the acorn harvest would be enough and if the bears would come down and start wandering around town. I miss the wild turkeys (my son does not). I miss the waterfalls. I miss the toothless ancient mountain folk who care nothing about fashion and everything about family. I miss the swirling fireflies. I miss the mountain mists. I miss the fog. I miss staring up into a black sky full of glittering stars. I miss the quiet.

.....yah.

(choked up again, pause.....)

As I sat at the window and thought it all through, I realize I don't really ever want to go back to Asheville. I'm sure someday I will. Someday not too far in the future with all likelihood. (sigh) But I would rather live off somewhere in the mountains, surrounded by the people I love, good friends and family.

It's sad. As much as I felt like I belonged in Asheville, I realize I never did. I felt that way because I was comparing it to Michigan (where I grew up) and comparatively, sure. I definitely did not belong in Michigan. So Asheville felt like a better fit. But in the 10+ years I lived in Asheville I moved a grand total of 15 times (not counting my final move here). I never felt truly at home. I never felt really rooted anywhere.
And moving here, I didn't really leave much behind, other than the few friends I have. Not to whine, but none of them call me. So...(sigh) I don't know. I wonder how close we were.

The closest friends I have all live in other states, and I talk to them still. That's weird. But I digress.

All my life, I've really only looked for one thing: to feel understood. To feel like I'm making a difference and bettering myself and humanity, yah. But how great is that if you wander around feeling alone and misunderstood through it all? Pretty craptastic.

So I finally found somebody who GETS me. And anyone who knows me was understandably shocked to learn I was going to just pack up and move 400 miles to some unknown place, on what could only seem to them to be a whim. But to be understood? I would give anything. I would follow this man to the ends of the earth. I would rip myself through every comfort zone I have to be with him. Sounds a little loony, maybe. I don't care. It's good for me.

I feel lately like I'm shedding years of pain, constantly cutting through fresh layers of YUCK to reveal another painful layer beneath.

Side note: I cut off my hair. I've had long hair since I can remember, other than a few regrettable haircuts. This is the shortest it's been since I was 15, at least. Anyone who has suggested I cut it I poo-pooed and told them no chance. However, Mr. Wonderful has mentioned it on more than a few occasions (ahem) and I had thought about it before I even moved here, so in an combined effort to satisfy my own curiosity and make him be quiet, I cut it. Hack hack. (I must confess walking into the living room crying and telling him, "You better like it cause I don't!!!") Now I like it. And oddly, it makes me look years younger. Even odder: it makes me FEEL years younger. I have hidden under my long hair for years. It was my security blanket.

Similarly, I have hidden under a lot of things for years, in an effort to deal with any number of painful experiences. I look at myself and see someone who is wrapped in layer after layer of coping mechanisms, so much so that I'm not really sure who I am anymore under all this crap. Well, other than a child of excrutiating bright light.

(grin)

Homesick? I don't know. Home is where the heart is. And my heart is irrefutably here.

I do miss the smell of woodsmoke, though.

things to do to make your mother proud

When Takeru Kobayashi gobbled 53.5 franks in 12 minutes to win this year's Nathan's Famous hot dog eating competition he consumed a mind-numbing 16,531 calories, 1,070 grams of fat and 1,239 grams of carbs.

britneyshmitney

I have decided: people are insane.

I have come to this well thought out conclusion after trying to look at a picture of Britney Spears on her wedding day. Simple morbid curiousity, if you will. Not morbid enough to indulge in say Jerry Springer mind you. But I saw the tabloids in the grocery store and I wondered what her dress looked like.

At any rate, I couldn't ever find a picture. I did find endless sites stuffed full of all things Britney, without a single wedding shot. One site had a trojan horse that my lovely virus protection blocked. There were sites arguing over Britney and about Britney, and that amused me. But all in all, I found no wedding dress, and people are insane.

That is all.

Cross the street, but leave your tie.

probably not a good plan

Take an additional bumper for a ride. Because we all know...two is not enough.

Rodney, I hope you finally got some respect

Rodney Dangerfield 1922-2004

A native of New York’s Long Island, Dangerfield had endured a series of health problems in recent years. Last spring, he underwent brain surgery.

A month later, Dangerfield greeted reporters at the hospital dressed in a sports shirt and Bermuda shorts and declared, “My brain is OK. I feel like a new man.” Later, responding to a medical question, he answered, “Ask me about things I’m familiar with, like drugs or prostitution.”

We loved you.

take the virgin-whore dichotomy quiz.


This test result astounds me.
I, um, do love babies, anyway.
My room is kinda neat....
(whistles and looks around.....)

recent odd searches to pull up my blog:

"jelly virgin bracelets"

"Keith Urbans girlfriend"

nyuck nyuck

various droolings

This weekend I was nursing my son and Mr. Wonderful back to health, and now I am ill. It's a weird ill. I hurt. My brain feels oddly vacant. Like, I just want to lay down, but it's not the exhaustion of a flu. It's a desire to lay and eat and stare at the TV and drool on things. Just...you know...various things.....

Another nice complement I got yesterday: a friend of mine called up crying about her boyfriend acting like an Assmeister. We talked for a while. Right before she hung up she said, "You're like....masturbation for the heart. You managed to touch my special place and now I feel better."
I'm like masturbation for the heart.
That's just a wickedly awesome thing for someone to say.
~contented sigh~


I was thinking also that I would share with you a recurring dream I had from childhood.
I had this dream (with variations) around the time I was in kindergarten:

I was always in a princess dress. I would be in the street in front of my house, and the neighborhood kids would be there, and I would go running and take off and fly. All the kids would be in awe. Also, I had a tail of never ending hot dogs. As in, they were linked together and I could eat as many as I liked and they would never go away.

Ok. I think this dream says a lot. Mostly about the fact that I grew up totally poor and of course I would have a princess gown and a never ending food supply, right? But being poor the best, most creative food source I could come up with was hot dogs. I mean, crab legs would have been mighty sweet, but poor kids never have that shit, so that wouldn't have occurred to me. Besides, where would I keep melted butter?
Spill it on my dress? Methinks not!
And of course my puny ego would need the neighborhood kids there to see my amazing flying abilities and princess gown (and hot dog tail?) and recognize my sheer awesomeness and obvious royalty. And mastery of all things hotdoggy.

warm fuzzy in Crazyland

Today the gay guy at work told me he was worried the first time he saw me. He said, "You look like one of those perfect people out of an old black and white movie. I was really worried you were going to be snotty, but you're very nice."

One of those perfect people.....
Wow.
I feel freakalisciously special.

Blogger has gone seriously wack-o today and I don't dare blog much for fear it will be eaten. Or posted 8 times, like earlier today.
Ugh.
So, I have much to say (I know, how unusual, right?) but I'll get back to you people.

Faye, you so totally rule. Just so you know.
;)

a moment of Thanksgiving

The first valve-type flush toilet was introduced in 1738 by a man named J.F. Brondel.

Thanks to J.F. Brondel. Seriously. Thank you.

Looking at the pictures of Mr. Wonderful and I as they scroll across my screen. All of them look like they should have the word "DISTURBED" stamped across my forehead.

I'm obsessing.

It hurts.

The debate, summed up.

despondent

There at times I feel more broken than usual.
This is one of them.

(pause)

I, uh...I don't know. I get these flashes of jealousy. Not like, "Oh, I wonder if he thinks that chick is hot" kind of stuff but "I wonder if he's picturing fucking her inside his head and I bet it looks like this...." and feel sick and flip out.
Not good.

Then I have this complete and utter emotional shut down, and want to throw a fit the likes of which has not been seen. For what?

What good would that cause?

I am angry I cannot make any logical sense out of it.
I am angry I cannot understand myself.
I am angry at whoever would make this feeling rise in me, how dare they make me look at this revolting part of myself I do NOT wish to face!
Revolting?
I don't know. Maybe.
The person on the receiving end usually looks revolted.
Or at least disgusted.

(pause)

Then I have to wonder if I am, in fact, confused at all. Maybe it's intuition.
Mr. Wonderful is very hurt and insulted by this.
The X was always annoyed with it. Then he cheated on me.
The one before that was downright volatile about it. And he cheated on me from the get go.
SO....you can see where I am finding it difficult to trust my own intuition and trust another person...

Mr. Wonderful reminds me that those guys were assholes, and that he is nothing like them. I agree. But I know he's cheated on his X, so I have that seed of doubt.
Meanwhile, my X never cheated on a girlfriend EVER so he had that going for him until he cheated on me. Yah. Whoops.
Mr. Wonderful tells me he thinks I stopped trusting my intuition, or it's gone haywire.
I think he's right, but then eye him suspiciously. Flip flop flip flop.

The truth is, I had been suspicious of the X's. But they told me what I wanted to believe so I believed it because I WANTED to.
Now?
I know how easy it is for me to trick myself (and thus let myself be deceived) and therefore trust nothing, no one, not even myself.

That is painful.

It is painful to be in an argument about jealousy and not know what to say because I'm so busy trying to run through every scenario, every loophole, looking for a crack in my logic, while at the same time mercilessly berating myself for doing it. It's like I'm looking at the relationship I have with the person I love and saying, "I'm sorry I lit it on fire" while I pour more gasoline on.
I feel terrified, out of control, just sooooooo afraid.
(crying)
I'm so afraid to be hurt again.


(pause, sniffle)
I don't know what to do. Trying to control my jealousy just feels like I'm subjugating part of myself that is there to protect me! If it isn't there to warn me how the hell am I supposed to know!? If I label my jealously as "Bad" ....I can hear the Buddhist teachings I've been studying lately telling me to not label it at all, but simply be aware of it, breath in, breath out at which point I feel calm for a second then smack that thought right out of the air and scream, "HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT HAPPENS???"
I have.

hhhrrrummph

Ok. I am breathing. I am aware. I am aware of my mellow drama, and I am aware that I probably won't die if I get cheated on again (that's not to say anyone ELSE won't, though). I am aware that the jealousy I feel is poisonous, and could poison the relationship I'm in to the point that I create the very thing I most fear.
While the majority of me feels like this relationship is a blessing bestowed upon me by God Himself/Herself, a small part of me marvels at what a nice little package I've created for myself this time, what a pretty little thing for me to easily believe in. Yes, the relationship is blessed, it hisses, good thinking. Whatever makes it easier to swallow, whatever makes it easier.....

And when I try to look at it all it's like following a string back through a giant tangled mess. Like, usually I can, with relative ease, follow my thoughts or feelings back to the point from which they originate. I can do it with other people, too, it's my gift, if you will. Empathy. But when it comes to issues of sex and jealousy and ...well, it's all tangled up, and painful to touch.
I know I have to.
God I need a shrink.
I was crying earlier thinking about it. I really miss my shrink.
When I had a shrink, I knew no matter what was bothering me, I had help on the way. I had an appointment, I had someone to help me sort the mess out.
Without that, I feel kind of....adrift.

So....touch the painful tangled mess to sort out why I feel this way (with the possibility of causing myself far more pain in the process, in all likelihood) or just try and forget about it.....
I mean, you can see where it's tempting.
But it rears its ugly head, and I have to face it sooner or later.....