All Work, No Play, Dull Girl

Storms roll through and it causes havoc. Not just on the roads but at my workplace. Leaks start, power surges happen, and we start getting a whole lotta calls on the helpdeak. When you work at a place this big, especially when you work with computers, everyone here works with computers, it's bound to happen. Systems going down and coming back up, it ain't pretty.

Last night my supervisor came up to me. "I hope you won't be too mad at me." Interesting way for authority to approach you. He asked me to start doing a monthly report, one which no one in their right mind would want to do. It's tedious and annoying and I have a feeling that the person who receives it just sticks it in a folder somewhere. There's one block that has to be filled in that I'd be tempted to write random curse words in to see it ever got caught. My gut says probably not but my brain says "no" just in case.

So, I said yes. Of course. In my mind, I won't be here for much longer and it's something to help my days go by just that much quicker. Only problem is for me to get on track, I've got hundreds of spaces to fill in on this spreadsheet, yet, here I am. Writing to you. Can't all be work, right? Gotta have some play.

Apology Not Accepted

So... gentlemen... if you're going to attempt to apologize to a young lady whose house you stormed out of when you didn't get your way, don't try to do it during booty call hours, during the week. If you insist on waiting until the weekend is over, which makes no sense if it's a real apology, especially when said event happened the week before... then do it at normal hours. Let's say, before 9 or so. Not at 10:30 on a Monday.

Just sayin'... apology was not accepted due to these pathetic conditions. Try a little harder if you mean it. If you don't mean it... this is what an apology looks like: a 10:30 text message that says: I want to apologize for the other night. Then when I say I'm still pissed (granted, I sent that when I got out of the movies, well over an hour after I had received it), no response.

No response doesn't exactly indicate real remorse does it? Hmm?

Bah!

Miracle of Change

Attending a party this weekend, I found myself meeting a rather large amount of new folks. Almost none of them were people I had laid eyes on before except the hostess and her best friend. Both of which are awesome people. Strangely, and excitedly, I found myself not so shy and willing to speak, willing to join in on a conversation even if it wasn't exactly directed at me. When you're sitting in a circle, you have to assume all conversation is open conversation.

It used to be that I would be intimidated. Not only intimidated but sort of lost from that feeling of initimidation. I wouldn't have joined in, I would have just sat quietly, forgetting that I had something or anything to add. I would have just been still and nervous to move for fear of falling out of my chair randomly or making some sort of gigantic cosmic size fool of myself. For all I know, I did make a cosmic sized fool of myself but I don't care. I had fun throwing in my stories and my two cents. Some got laughs, some got ignored, and some led to others' stories and led into other conversations.

I felt pretty comfortable, pretty ok with just being myself. Honestly, I think some of it is training from all the meetups, some of it is therapy, and some of it is just simply a sign of growth. Whatever has made the difference, I know one thing, I'm glad to be here and not back there, where I used to be.

Thank God for tiny miracles. The miracle of change.

The Best Revenge

Living well is the best revenge.
-George Herbert

I sat with my ring toss partner last night, chatting, eating pizza and drinking a few beers. We have not stopped talking since we met. God forbid anyone else be in the room, they probably wouldn't get a word in edgewise. We're not rude, exactly, we just both have tons to say, every time we get together, it seems. Of course, when we do get together it is only us in the room so I guess there's no worries there.

She told stories, I told stories, troubles, funnies, and everything in between. We sat there, talking it up and eventually - about something unrelated to the guy's rushing out of my apartment or even unrelated to therapy, she said something about someone that ended with "don't give them the reaction, that satisfaction". She wasn't speaking about either of these other events in my life but she spoke to me loud and clear.

My therapist and I started exploring why my reactions are so mild, even in anger. Mostly in anger. My other reactions aren't so mild. Laughing, joy, excitement, I don't hide these one bit. When I get angry, however, I tend to not only react mildly but I tend to barely react on the outside at all. Not to say I'm not boiling on the inside. Could it lead to a pressure blow-up? I suppose. It has once in recent times but that was a strange set of circumstances. One not even really, truly concerning me directly. That was a matter of me feeling protective of a friend.

When it comes to me, when it comes to something done wrong directly to me I don't usually react. I can remember finally exploding after years of not exploding on my ex. Boy was down on the ground, covering his head because I was screaming at him. What had happened was horrible and it was in a long line of things that I had just buried in order to keep peace. Which was a mistake all the way around.

Now, though, it's not quite like that. It's not that I'm not reacting or that I'm just ignoring or that I'm burying. Now, it's a matter of me keeping my cool even when others wouldn't. It's me saying a couple words to make it clear that this, whatever THIS may be, is not ok. It's not about a few choice words when they walk out but rather a rolling of the eyes and a rolling over to get some sleep. Does no one any good for me to lose sleep over someone else's jackassness. The only one I'm punishing there is myself. This does not mean they can walk all over me again and it does not mean that I am already forgiving. It just means that they don't deserve the time or effort that a show of anger would give. It also doesn't mean I'm not sickened or angry. It doesn't mean that at all.

What it means to me now is I've got fuel to burn with my writing. I've got a life to live, not a life to be angry about.

Downturn

Eyes slanted, I'm looking out at the world in a fit of -- anger? Is that what I'm feeling? Disgust? Maybe... resolution - hopefully.

Seriously, dudes. When a girl turns you down, even a girl you've been with before, please don't act like a baby and behave like she's done you fiercely wrong. Please don't storm out of her apartment and behave like that's all she's good for. She has the right to say no for any reason she feels like. Same goes for guys, of course.

Ruined the Surprise

On occasion I have tendencies, as I am well aware and so are others to want to control things. I am not a constant control freak nor am I unable to relax about stuff. I don't have the desire to control others, just the circumstances in which they sometimes find themselves.

Namely... parties and outings. If it's not my party, I don't care and I don't cry. If it is my party, I still don't cry. However, biff made it quite clear to me last night that I am not, will not, and cannot be involved in the planning of my 30th birthday BBQ.

I reluctantly agreed to stay out of it. Not asking about it is going to be tough and chances are, from the way it's looking, I'm not even going to be able to look at the evite. I have completely mixed feelings about this fact and I can't believe the internal switch that's turned on. I want... to... control... at least some aspect of it.

Biff, sister-in-friend, and mom are the three people whom I have entrusted on making this thing happen. All of them are more than capable and as far as I know, willing. I know it'll be fine. I know it'll be fun. I know I should just be able to relax. I am curious to find out how I do in the long run. I'm curious if I do just avoid all questions or if I won't be able to help myself.

I need to help myself, though. If I hadn't opened up my own mouth about planning a BBQ, I would have had a surprise party by biff or even, possibly, by my mom. But, I took control too early. Honestly, the only reason I even took control at all was because of fear. Fear that nothing would happen and I'd be disappointed for my birthday. I didn't want this to happen again. I spent several years where my birthday was a waste, nothing of note, I just didn't want that to happen again. I guess my past sometimes does still combine with what's current. I guess it's time for me to trust some of the people I love enough to take my hands off the wheel.

Mayo Jar & Two Beers

-Author Unknown

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 Beers

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.

When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full.

They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly.

The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full.

They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.

Of course, the sand filled up everything else.

He asked once more if the jar was full.

The students responded with a unanimous 'yes.'

The professor then produced two Beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.

The students laughed..

'Now,' said the professor as the laughter subsided, 'I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.

The golf balls are the important things---your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions---and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.

The sand is everything else---the small stuff.

"If you put the sand into the jar first,' he continued, 'there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.


The same goes for life.

If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

Spend time with your children.

Spend time with your parents.

Visit with grandparents.

Enjoy your friendships.

Take time to get medical checkups.

Take your spouse out to dinner.

Play another 18.

There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.

Take care of the golf balls first---the things that really matter.

Set your priorities.

The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the Beer represented.

The professor smiled and said, 'I'm glad you asked.'

The Beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of Beers with a friend.

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS...
...IT'S LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN !

New Post - Something Uplifting

I don't normally post twice in a day but in the last hour my mood finally stabilized and I'm feeling like myself again. Whew! (Yes, it does happen that fast and in that way.) So, I figured now I'd post something more uplifting:

Feeling frustration

What does it feel like when you are ready to do whatever it takes to succeed? It feels exactly like frustration, because that's what it is.

Whenever you feel frustration, you are primed to make a positive difference in the world. You are highly motivated to create new and meaningful value.

Don't let your frustrations go to waste by allowing them to get you down. Choose instead to put your frustrations to work.

Listen carefully and gratefully to what your frustration is telling you. Discover and begin to manifest the improvements that your frustration is begging you to make.

By understanding what frustrates you, you'll better understand what fulfills you. When you feel strongly about what's wrong, you're already on your way toward making it right.

Be aware of your frustrations and pay attention to their messages. You'll find powerful positive purpose in them all.

-- Ralph Marston
http://greatday.com/motivate/previous.html

Inch and Foot

It really is not all that simple to explain. I guess it's a mixed episode. I'm feeling constantly stuck at the moment. Racing thoughts have taken hold and, unfortunately, they're all negative thoughts. Mostly snippits of bad memories and thoughts of anger about the situation I'm finding myself in related to work.

I am really, honestly, completely at my wit's end when it comes to the shift changes. I'm having an issue with getting up in the morning in order to get anything done. Seems the only time I can get myself out of bed early anymore is if I have to be to work on a normal day shift. Otherwise, I sleep late and too much and that's not helping either. Don't get me wrong, getting up in the morning hasn't been my friend since I was a kid but I'm finding that the other things I want and need to do in life just don't feel pressing enough to make me force my eyes open. And I end up sleeping in every day. This is not something to me, that is anywhere near as enjoyable as it sounds. I'm oversleeping, which isn't helping to keep my moods stablized.

I'm frustrated and venting and tired of this. Won't be getting better until September, I just hope it doesn't get too much worse. My life needs to work in conjunction with my medication. There are other things I need to do too... exercise and really eating right, both of which have taken a seat next to this fucking work schedule.

I don't know... are supervisors allowed to just toss doctor's notes aside because it's just more convenient for them? I gave him an inch by saying weekends, ok. Weeknights, occasionally... ok. And he took a foot.

Ode To Alisa Cafe

Oh - how I liked thee
Me and biff
Enjoying your pre-fixe meal
Each time we went
Which clearly wasn't
Often enough
Since now you're out of business.
The lights are out
The dishes are creepily still stacked.
The sign says the space is available
And all I can think about
Is the peanut sauce
That will never again
Tickle my taste buds.
Sadly, it's over
And you're shut down
A victim of the economy
Or a victim of location?
Or a victim of both?
Goodbye, Alisa Cafe
You had some fans.
Just not big enough fans
To keep you in business
Forever.


(Yes, I know this is bad.)

The Smell

Patience is waiting. Not passively waiting. That is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow - that is patience
- Author Unknown

The other night, I went to a happy hour and back. In order to avoid the possibility of paying for parking, as well as gas and driving at night with my headlight out, I took two different trains. I also got myself some really nice blisters to boot. What made this walking, riding, and blistering experience rather exceptional was that on my way back to the last train of the evening, I could smell it.

In the middle of Philly, after a few beers but not too many beers, I could smell something new. It was almost like I was transported out of this time and placed somewhere else. What I smelled was like the remnants of another life, colliding with this one. The smell was familiar though it didn't remind me of anything that has happened yet, it reminded me of what was to come. It only lasted for a few minutes and then my mind wandered to the fact that my body was wandering and I needed to get my barrings as to where I was.

The smell was exciting to me. From the moment I had left my house, bag on my shoulder, prepared to take in the happy hour I went to, I felt different than any other time when I had gone to Philly. I felt like this is what I was meant to do. This is what my life is meant to be filled with. Train rides and writing and discovering, not just for me but for others as well. The happy hour was short of spectacular but that's alright. I've got to go back in order to take notes as to what I thought of the establishment and it's offerings. Still, I am left with the memory of a few moments of knowing. I'll know it when I'm living it fully but I still got a glimpse into something that's waiting around the bend.

The smell wasn't cooking food or baked goods or anything of that nature. It was subtle but it was real. It wasn't trash or urine or any of the other lovelies that one sometimes takes in while in the city. It was different. It was me, just not now but, rather, in the future. The me that's currently being born, that's currently coming to life.

For now, I have to be patient. Very, very patient. I've been failing at that virtue lately. Getting worked up internally about things that simply won't matter when all is said and done. No point in being miserable in the process of the climb though sometimes that's much easier said than done.

A Tinny Sound

The screeching sound from my wheel just about describes my personality at the moment. Shrill, annoying and there whenever I turn around. When my boundaries are pushed, so am I. Just like when my brake pads wear down, they scream out in agony. Ok... maybe it's just the indicator letting me know they've got to be changed.

Seriously, let's talk about boundaries. We all have them. For some of us, they're just a matter of taste. For others, it's a matter of keeping oneself healthy. Usually, it's about keeping oneself healthy. In all different ways, in relation to all sorts of things.

For me, in the dating world... texting me on a Tuesday night at 11:30 to see if you can just stop by isn't ok. It's too late. I'm usually already asleep by then on a work night. Especially if I have to be in work by 7:30. But, if you never contact me except when it's absolutely convenient for you... you don't know that. You don't get it because you don't bother to try. If you can't contact me during normal hours like everyone else in my life... why should I even bother to talk to you?

For me, at work... I have a doctor's note saying I should be out of work by 7:00. I don't mind that my supervisor asked if I could stretch that to 7:30. This, I agreed to. I also agreed to stay late once in a while, when it was absolutely necessary as well as for weekend shifts. My supervisor, however, has chosen to ignore my doctor's note and schedule me until 10PM for the last few weeks of August. I do understand that we are short-handed but I also understand what I need. What am I supposed to do? I don't want to be a problem person but I can't take this. If I don't get home until 10:30, I don't get to bed until at least midnight, if not later, depending on when my meds kick in. Yes, I like to go out during the week sometimes but I am more concerned about the nights that I need to rest at home, get some exercise in, take care of things plus get the sleep I need. Oh. And to see biff. At this point, we barely even communicate anymore. Thank you, Mr. Supervisor for not helping me out and allowing me to live the way I have expressed over and over again that I need to. Is it appropriate for my supervisor to make my plans for me? That I should have to walk in the door, take my medication and get right into bed? My job should not dictate what I do once I'm out of the office. I should be allowed some wind-down time. Everyone deserves some wind-down time when they get done for the day.

Today's blog is nothing but a bitchfest, I realize. Thank you for reading, hopefully my mood will perk back up tomorrow. Or, at least, in September.

Walking the World

Walking, walking, walking, walking. Chatting, chatting, chatting, chatting.

You can spend hours just walking, not thinking about the time that's passing or what else you could be doing when you have someone to walk with. When you walk alone, it's so much easier to get lost in how quickly you can get home so you can do this... or do that.

My friend and I walked and walked last night. First around the river and then to Wawa and back. Got myself a late night sandwich, should have eaten dinner beforehand but that turkey hoagie tasted crazy good, even at 11:30 at night. As we walked, we talked. Mostly about her and her relationship troubles. Something beautiful appears to be dying or has already died, hard to tell quite yet. Loss is never fun, even when you're on the giving end of it. Even when you're the one to call it quits. That is... if you have a heart.

Time does that though. And I've been finding, as my twenties are rounding up to a close that the last few years, especially the last year has brought significant changes about what I want, how I see things and simply how I understand the processes we have to go through just to get through. Having children becomes very important to many a woman, I'm not going to speak for men exactly but I imagine it's the same for them as well. Time to procreate, people. As Marisa Tomei mentioned in My Cousin Vinny "my biological clock is ticking like this".

Not for me so much though I'm simply finding myself viewing certain aspects of the romantic relationship differently. What I want, what I need, how much I'm willing to take my time. Most days, I am content with being alone, not panicking about the one or who the next person in my bed will be. I'm not pushing for anything, I just want laughter and a companion whose company I thoroughly enjoy. It's not more complicated than that. Let's just get to know each other and see if our lives work in the meshing sense. I'll know it's the real thing by the way I'm treated and the way I want to treat him.

I've been through my massive break up and I like who I am on the other side. Better than I ever did before. Partially because I think about it now and I can't honestly say I remember doing that in the disappearing decade. Partially because life has given me some bruises but those bruises have healed.

I feel for my friend and gave her what I could for advice though her journey is her own and it's one no one else can dictate. As we walked along the main street in my town, headed to Wawa, for a moment I felt the intense desire for her to know what I know. What I know about being alone and what I know about how true love is supposed to be. I wanted for a moment, desperately, for her to have the experience of something beautiful, something free, something filled with laughter and compassion.

What I want for both of us, for all my friends is for them to know the freedom that a healthy relationship will bring. When I find it, I'll know it because I'll be able to do with them what the title of this blog means. No more, no less.

Magical Passes

Been thinking about what to touch on today. I've stared at this blank page over and over again and nothing's coming. So - I think I'll tell you about the book I was reading... one that I've given up on... which is a rarity. Honestly, I don't even know how this thing ended up in my pile of books. I have a pile in my bedroom that I just reach into and pull out another whenever I finish one book.

The book is called Magical Passes. And it was supposed to have something to do with the wisdom of the shamans of ancient Mexico. It had good write ups inside of it, raves from some of the higher end critics in the land. What those little blurbs failed to mention was the silliness of it. At least in my opinion.

I finally finished the first chapter and sighed relief. It's never a good sign when you sigh relief after reading only one chapter. Then I turned the page to see a bunch of pictures. Oh - wait - I'm expected to do these poses daily to become "magical". The androgynous late middle aged woman who was in a black leotard caused me to throw the book aside (literally) and go "oh... no... this is getting donated to the library".

So, dear readers, please avoid Magical Passes. It's not that I don't see us as magical and it's not that I don't see life as absolutely magical and wonderful and amazing, I just don't see how an old woman in a leotard is comfortable for anyone. And I can't help but wonder if the critics are actually busy doing the poses every day... somehow I doubt it.

The shaman who the teachings were learned from was Don Juan. Come on... no... New York Times... the author did not do something unbelieavably important here. There's a reason his type died out. Hey - one day I'm hoping to be critiqued by critics... I gotta get my punches in while I still can.

Is narcissism keeping you single?

By Wendy Atterberry

(The Frisky) -- It's no secret that people are getting married later these days than in previous generations, and in this culture of hook-ups and "modern female dating anxiety," we're at no loss for theories that explain why.

Some people say today's twentysomethings are delaying marriage to focus on careers and build close friendships instead, but another explanation paints a less flattering picture of young people.
Apparently, they're all just a bunch of narcissists. In an article on The Daily Beast this week, writer Hannah Seligson, explores this theory, writing: "narcissism, even in small doses, has shifted courtship into a high-stakes relationship culture.

Now that people think more highly of themselves, expectations of what a relationship should be like have skyrocketed into the realm of superlatives.

Twentysomethings not only expect to waltz into high-level career positions right out of college, they also expect partners who have the moral fortitude of Nelson Mandela, the comedic timing of Stephen Colbert, the abs of Hugh Jackman, and the hair of Patrick Dempsey."

But is it true that twentysomethings think more highly of themselves and have greater expectations for their lives than older generations did at their age? And, if so, is that such a bad thing? Seligson cites psychology professors W. Keith Campbell and Jean Twenge, authors of the book, The Narcissism Epidemic, who "chart the dramatic rise in the number of Americans who have a clinical narcissist personality disorder."

Surveying a wide representation of 35,000 Americans, they discovered that "nearly 10 percent of twentysomethings reported symptoms of narcissism, compared to just over 3 percent of those over 65." And in an age of confessional blogging, and constant Facebook and Twitter updates, that figure isn't hard to believe.

Some believe this blatant self-regard is a product of the "Oprah school of thought," or the idea that you have to love yourself before anyone else will.

While Twenge says there's no evidence that people with higher self-esteem have better relationships, Terry Real, a therapist and relationship expert, adds: "There is a national obsession with feeling good about yourself. We have done a good job teaching people to come up from shame, but have ignored the issue of having people come down from grandiosity.
The result seems to be a generation of young people who view everything -- especially relationships -- in terms of the happiness it brings them and how good it makes them feel about themselves.

This is a problem, the experts say, because relationships are about compromise, about sometimes sacrificing what makes you happy for what makes your partner happy.

So if focusing so intently on one's personal happiness and gratification is a bad thing, how should today's twentysomethings examine the merits of a potential mate? If their own good feelings are a narcisstic lens through which to view a relationship, what's the appropriate way to examine it?

My hunch is we're not giving twentysomethings enough credit. They're a smart, well-educated bunch, if a tad self-involved. But come on, it's not like it's some new phenomenon for twentysomethings to act narcissistic

The experts say today's crop is three times more narcissistic that their grandparents, but they don't reveal how narcissistic those grandparents were when they were in their twenties.

I suspect today's youth, just like the generations before, will mature and become less self-involved over time. They'll begin seeing potential mates in terms of not only how happy they make them feel, but how much better they are when they're with them: better friends, better employees, better contributing members of society.

But don't expect it to happen overnight -- twentysomethings today are busy enjoying their "me" time (and tweeting about every minute of it).

Examining Things

It's your thing
Do what you wanna do

-It's Your Thing, Isley Brothers

I got my first paid writing gig. Thank you, Spice, you rock.

http://www.examiner.com/x-16529-Philadelphia-Restaurant-Events-Examiner

I'm really, really happy about this. The sun is shining in Philly right now. I spoke earlier with my boss about the reasons why I didn't get the position I had interviewed for. She had contacted me about it, I really had no intention of following up. In the process I found out that my lack of education played a role. The truth, too, is that the person it went to deserves it. I like him, we're friends and he's a professional. I'm actually happy he's the one who beat me out. I was told, however, that out of 40 applicants, I was in the top three. That's not bad at all.

Still... the fact remains that it's not what I wanted for myself anyway. I'm working to try and make my mark in the written word. It turns out I have alot to say. This new writing gig is just one aspect, as is this blog, my book, my poetry and my journal. I love writing. I live for it at this point and I want nothing to hold me back anymore. It's time for me to stay focused, which I've been doing.

I think it's funny. I'll be heading out to restaurants and bars from now on with a new agenda. To critique. I'm looking forward to it. I'm hoping for plenty of good experiences as well as the crappy ones. I hope to help someone here and there, either by steering them away or bringing in new business.

This is my life, folks. It's time for me to do something with it.

In Memory

IN MEMORY OF MY BABYGIRL AND MY LITTLE LIFESAVER

MEG AND ALEX

You both left us a year ago today. You are missed.

Candidate More Suited

So, here it is. I went for the interview, hoped pretty hard, realized it wasn't what I wanted and now I got the news that I'm not getting it anyway. Of course, there is still a sense of disappointment lingering. It was going to be the easier road. It looked, to me, like a job I could do with quite a bump in pay. Then I could go back to school at night and all would be fine.

After thinking about this, getting worked up about it, it snapped inside of me. Something did. Whether I was going to get it or not... was this what I really wanted? The honest answer is "no". Not that an easy road once in a while wouldn't be nice. It would be. It'd be awesome to experience just once in a while. But, would the easier road make me happy in the long run? Sure, it would provide me with an almost immediate sense of security, sense of clarity but would it provide me happiness? Do I want to devote my professional life to a job I never really wanted in the first place?

No. Why would anybody? Not that other people don't settle for less than what they want. Not that there aren't people in my company who are very happy with what they have, there are. For some people, this is what their lives are for. Some people have a passion for this kind of thing. But, the truth is... I don't. Never have, never will. Doesn't mean I don't believe in doing a good job while I'm here but I know, for certain, that I don't want to invest my heart in this anymore than is absolutely necessary.

My heart is with my writing. Which I only recently decided to get serious about. This blog is one form though it's not the bigger picture by any means, it's just one form of me spending at least these few minutes a day, exploring.

When I received word that "another candidate was more suited" for the position, I felt a sense of loss, mild, tiny loss. The loss of the other road in the woods, the one traveled heavily by many folks through the years. I could still try to go down it or I could get honest with myself and with others and devote myself to this road, the one I've been tripping down for long enough. The one that's covered over in spots because no one's been down it in years, if ever. I guess part of me has simply lost sight of the other road, it's no longer an option. I could run through the woods wildly searching for it, trying to make it my own but that would just be useless, it would never be mine, which is really, truly, perfectly ok.

And kind of wonderful when I really think about it. You get one life to live, don't waste your journey on less than what you want.

In The Blood

So here I was worrying about other people's bloodwork when maybe I should have been worrying about my own. It simply hadn't occurred to me that something might come back negatively for myself. I guess it's the ol' "happens to other people" syndrome.

My doctor did not seem terribly worried, she just told me to have it checked again in a month or so then she gave me a copy of the paperwork for my primary. Something is wrong with my kidney function. Strangely, I'm not overly worried either but it is one more thing to keep an eye on. I had a horrible kidney infection when I was a kid and my grandmother had kidney disease. Actually, my grandmother also had a horrible kidney infection when she was a child and after that she had trouble.

But, still... I'm not that worried, just a smidge. I'll get it checked again in a month and I'll start making a point of drinking more water again. I haven't been drinking nearly enough lately. In fact, I'll go over during my lunch today to buy a case. That way I have it around my apartment, especially to sip while I'm writing.

Maybe It's Nothing, Maybe It's Something

Sitting in a waiting room, you get the ever pleasant experience of watching some people come and some people go. And, if you're like me, you get to see lots of people come and go because you wrote your name sloppily on the sign in sheet and they couldn't read your first name. I eventually had to ask them why I was still waiting.

Regardless of my own inability to write legibly, I looked around. Most of the folks were older, only one person younger than me was taken care of while I was there. And two things occured to me.

One, I am terrified of getting old. And two, some of these people may get bad news from these tests.

First off, getting old sucks. Sort of. Well, the pain management end of it. As I was looking at one gentlemen, I couldn't help but wonder what that rather large growth at the top of his left leg was. He was heavy but there was a strange, huge lump in an area that I've never seen fat gather at. It was a growth. I found myself wondering if it was just a huge benign tumor. Then I felt really sad for him. Then I got scared that something like that might happen to me.

I was only getting bloodwork as my normal medication maintenance requires.

Second, folks in this waiting room had given their doctor cause for concern. Or, at least, some of them. Possibly. Maybe they're all getting bloodwork done for maintenance or maybe they're all going to get glowing results. Everything's fine. It's very well possible, that none of the people who surrounded me this morning will have a life changing experience after this. That they were all just there biding their time as well, no magazines to look at, only Christian radio to listen to.

Momentary Freakout

It's silly. But it still sends a shiver down my spine. Ok... it doesn't help that the computer room I'm sitting in is super cold but still...

Horoscopes. Or, rather, as Spice calls them "Horrorscopes" and I assume the reason she calls them that is because of the type of thing I read today. I read my horoscope nearly every day. If I don't, I don't miss it. And I don't care but somehow something inside of me finds itself invested once it's been read. Which, I suppose, is what keeps some of us coming back. The only thing is usually it's uplifting and good. Today I was told to enjoy my day as much as possible because the next few days could be really intense.

What?!? What kind of intense? Please don't tell me it's going to be my car. I am going to take it in as soon as my dad gets back from overseas. My mom asked me to wait until then. (Asking my mom for help was intense enough in the embarrassing department...)

But then... it runs through my mind that it could be much worse than my car. Much worse.

Then I remind myself, as the feeling of fear subsides, that it's a horoscope.

Still...

CRAP.

Good Times, Good Times (This time not in a sarcastic tone.)

Ugh. Hangoverish. Getting those dizzy moments if I move too quickly. But - last night was worth it. We had an awesome time. Haven't had a night out like that in as long as I can remember.

I'm looking forward to getting back to bed after work.

Three Captains, four shots, four beers or was it five beers? I think it was five. I was dancing and laughing and feeling like slapping dude when he kept going "what's it say right there?". Pointing to my shirt so that he could run his finger up and bump me in the nose. He tried doing it over and over again. I kept telling him I'm not that stupid, even when I'm plastered. Plus, you're my friend's ex. You moved out after three years with her and then simply called her to say "I left". She may be a new friend but she's still a friend. I'd really appreciate it if you'd keep your finger away from my nose as well as off the Eagles emblem on my chest. Thank you.

Seriously, though, it was the best night I've had in quite some time. In quite some time. I've had a great time with Spice since we've started chillin'. And I'm thankful for her laid back ways. Hope there's alot more nights to come like last night. And, actually, the night before as well. Been able to let loose lately. Not sure why but I'm not going to inspect it all too much. I'm just going to choose to be thankful.

Pixar Rocks

Sometimes corporations aren't all big, evil monsters... sometimes they do the right thing... some people would say this could have been a publicity stunt but I honestly don't believe so. I think just the right person heard about it... we should all try to be that kind of person, methinks.

Pixar grants girl's dying wish to see 'Up'


By ANNIE BURRIS
THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

HUNTINGTON BEACH – Colby Curtin, a 10-year-old with a rare form of cancer, was staying alive for one thing – a movie.
From the minute Colby saw the previews to the Disney-Pixar movie Up, she was desperate to see it. Colby had been diagnosed with vascular cancer about three years ago, said her mother, Lisa Curtin, and at the beginning of this month it became apparent that she would die soon and was too ill to be moved to a theater to see the film.
After a family friend made frantic calls to Pixar to help grant Colby her dying wish, Pixar came to the rescue.
The company flew an employee with a DVD of Up, which is only in theaters, to the Curtins’ Huntington Beach home on June 10 for a private viewing of the movie.
The animated movie begins with scenes showing the evolution of a relationship between a husband and wife. After losing his wife in old age, the now grumpy man deals with his loss by attaching thousands of balloons to his house, flying into the sky, and going on an adventure with a little boy.
Colby died about seven hours after seeing the film.
With her daughter’s vigil planned for Friday, Lisa Curtin reflected about how grateful she is that Pixar – and "Up" – were a part of her only child’s last day.
“When I watched it, I had really no idea about the content of the theme of the movie,” said Curtin, 46. “I just know that word ‘Up’ and all of the balloons and I swear to you, for me it meant that (Colby) was going to go up. Up to heaven.”
Pixar officials declined to comment on the story or name the employees involved.
THE PREVIEWS
Colby was diagnosed with vascular cancer on Dec. 23, 2005 after doctors found a tumor in her liver. At the time of her death, her stomach was about 94 inches around, swollen with fluids the cancer wouldn’t let her body properly digest. The rest of her body probably weighed about 45 pounds, family friend Carole Lynch said.
Colby had gone to Newport Elementary School and was known for making others laugh, family friend Terrell Orum-Moore said. Colby loved to dance, sing, swim and seemed to have a more mature understanding of the world than other children her age, Orum-Moore said.
On April 28, Colby went to see the Dream Works 3-D movie "Monsters Vs. Aliens" but was impressed by the previews to "Up."
“It was from then on, she said, ‘I have to see that movie. It is so cool,’” Lynch said.
Colby was a movie fan, Lisa Curtin said, and she latched onto Pixar’s movies because she loved animals.
Two days later Colby’s health began to worsen. On June 4 her mother asked a hospice company to bring a wheelchair for Colby so she could visit a theater to see "Up." However, the weekend went by and the wheelchair was not delivered, Lisa Curtin said.
By June 9, Colby could no longer be transported to a theater and her family feared she would die without having seen the movie.
At that point, Orum-Moore, who desperately wanted Colby to get her last wish, began to cold-call Pixar and Disney to see if someone could help.
Pixar has an automated telephone answering system, Orum-Moore said, and unless she had a name of a specific person she wanted to speak to, she could not get through. Orum-Moore guessed a name and the computer system transferred her to someone who could help, she said.
Pixar officials listened to Colby’s story and agreed to send someone to Colby’s house the next day with a DVD of "Up," Orum-Moore recalled.
She immediately called Lisa Curtin, who told Colby.
“Do you think you can hang on?” Colby’s mother said.
“I’m ready (to die), but I’m going to wait for the movie,” the girl replied.
THE MOVIE
At about 12:30 p.m. the Pixar employee came to the Curtins’ home with the DVD.
He had a bag of stuffed animals of characters in the movie and a movie poster. He shared some quirky background details of the movie and the group settled in to watch Up.
Colby couldn't see the screen because the pain kept her eyes closed so her mother gave her a play-by-play of the film.
At the end of the film, the mother asked if her daughter enjoyed the movie and Colby nodded yes, Lisa Curtin said.
The employee left after the movie, taking the DVD with him, Lynch said.
“He couldn’t have been nicer,” said Lynch who watched the movie with the family. “His eyes were just welled up.”
After the movie, Colby’s dad, Michael Curtin, who is divorced from Lisa Curtin, came to visit.
Colby died with her mom and dad nearby at 9:20 p.m.
Among the Up memorabilia the employee gave Colby was an “adventure book” – a scrap book the main character’s wife used to chronicle her journeys.
“I’ll have to fill those adventures in for her,” Lisa Curtin said.