Since my computer at home is still dead, I'm not blogging much.
If I try to blog at work, I constantly get interrupted by people who actually expect me to do my job.
I came down with my 3rd cold in as many months this week. There has to be a reason why I keep getting sick so much and frankly I'm bone weary of being sick all the time so I did something I very rarely do; I went to the doctor.
I have allergic rhinitis. Translation: something is making me sick.
With my luck it will be my dogs, or books, or blogs....
I don't know but I'll just take these antihistamines.
I have a problem. I have fallen head over heels in love....with someone else's child.
She's two and she's a toddler genius. She can hold a conversation as well as any adult (as long as you're talking about something she's interested in) and she's just perfect.
I daydream about her mom saying, "De, I can no longer care for my daughter and I know you will love her and teach her all the wonderful things in life and treat her as if she were your own. Can you please adopt her?"
I want to take her home and be her mommy.
I am well aware now that if that child should ever come up missing, I'll be the first one on the FBI's list. Hell, they've probably got me on their list already!
I don't care. In my fantasy world, this child is perfect. She doesn't throw temper tamtrums, she never gets sick and vomits all over the place at 2 am. She'll never talk back to me, have trashy friends, stay out all night, sneak out and steal the car or drop out of school and marry a skinhead.
She will be an angel forever....in my dreams.
Oh one last thing...
There is nothing quite as embarrassing as thinking you and your coworker are all alone and you are engaged in a very personal conversation when you realize that you are not alone in the building and a complete stranger is just a few aisles over listening to every word.
Shit.
I've been seeing these billboards around town. They show a picture of a smiling man or woman and they say "I questioned homosexuality. Change is possibly. Find out how."
I was confused at first. What the hell does this mean?
In this day of Will and Grace and Queer Eye was there really an anti-homo billboard where EVERYONE can see?
Who put these billboards up, I wondered.
The Chronicle answered my question.
Conference ads target gays Billboards tout a Christian alternative to homosexuality
This article and this Christian group make it sound like homosexuality is a disease or a condition that can be cured with the right treatment.
I just feel bad for the gay and lesbian people who have to drive by these billboards everyday. How does it make them feel?
What if there were billboards that said, "Being black is a punishment for sins in your past life." or "Learn how to cure being Hispanic."?
There would be rioting in the streets.
Where is the outrage here?
The Chronicle article says some gay and lesbian groups are "concerned" over the ads. Well, yeah. I'd be concerned but I'd also be pissed and a little hurt.
I can't imagine it's easy being a gay man or woman. You're the target of hatred, ridicule, sometimes violence. Who would live like that by choice? So why do people think that it's something that can be cured with prayer or bullying or whatever they do?
Just like a person can't control the color of their skin (not including Michael Jackson), I don't believe a person can control their sexual preference.
Men aren't the most gorgeous naked creatures but by nature, I'm very attracted to them anyway. Who would be attracted to that hairy ass by choice?
I won't say too much about Carson since everyone else is and it would be redundant.
I just want to acknowledge his life at the time of his passing.
Do you believe in this Life Path stuff?
Do a bunch of math to figure yours out and let me know if it's true.
I'm not sure I believe mine. But then you usually have to beat me over the head with positive stuff.
The Life Path 1 drive in this life is characterized by individualist desires, independence, and the need for personal attainment. The purpose to be fulfilled on this Life Path is that of becoming independent. This is a two part learning process; first, you must learn to stand on your own two feet and learn not to depend on others. After you are indeed free and independent, you must learn to be a leader. Many of our Generals, corporate leaders, and political leaders are men and women having the Life Path number 1. The 1 always has the potential for greatness as a leader, but they may fail as a follower. Many 1's spend most of their lives shaking off their dependent side. When this happens, there is little time left for enjoying the rewards to be gained through independence. The individual with Life Path 1 has to overcome an environment in which it is very easy to be dependent, and difficult to be independent.
A person with positive 1 traits abounds in creative inspiration, and possesses the enthusiasm and drive to accomplish a great deal. Your drive and potential for action comes directly from the enormous depth of strength you have. This is both the physical and inner varieties of strength. With this strength comes utter determination and the capability to lead. As a natural leader you have a flair for taking charge of any situation. Highly original, you may have talents as an inventor or innovator of some sort. In any work that you choose, your independent attitude can show through. You have very strong personal needs and desires, and you feel it is always necessary to follow your own convictions. You are ambitious, and either understand or must learn the need for aggressive action to promote yourself. Although you may hide the fact for social reasons, you are highly self-centered and demand to have your way in most circumstances.
When the 1 Life Path person is not fully developed and expressing the negative side of this number, the demeanor may appear very dependent rather than independent. If you are expressing this negative trait of the number 1, you are likely to be very dissatisfied with your circumstances, and long for self-sufficiency. This is defined as the weak or dependent side of the negative 1 Life Path. On the strong side of this negative curve, the 1 energy can become too self-serving, selfish and egotistical. Over-confidence and impatience mark this individual.
Impatient, maybe. Over-confident, NEVER.
(emphasis mine)
I am a competitive under achiever. Would that be an oxymoron?
I don't try very hard but I hate it when someone who does try hard, does better than me.
I came face to face with my inadequacies today and I don't like what I see.
I rarely feel bad about my shortcomings if there is nothing I can do about them, like my big feet, for example. I hate my feet. Absolutely LOATHE them. But I don't hate myself because of them.
I suck at web design. There is so much shit I don't know how to do yet I'm capable of learning it, but I don't. Therefore, I hate myself. See how it works?
So when someone presumably on my level, does a better job at web design than I, I feel very bad about myself.
I could take more courses and learn more about web design, read my books, study more but I prefer the laziness of self-loathing.
I can do that in my sleep.
but are theirs fuzzy too???
Sheriff hopes pink handcuffs stand out in a crowd.
Pink is now the new black prison stripes.
Pink WAS my signature color. Now, apparently, I'm rolling with the convicts.
This should help with children's self esteem issues.
Bill filed would put obesity rating on student report cards
How I would have loved to have not only my intellectual inadequacies published for the whole world (my school) to see but to have my teachers declare me FAT would have made the whole school experience even MORE special.
Yeah, that's right.
My computer died. That steaming pile of technology.
It's either the power cord or the power jack INSIDE of the machine. It's a laptop and I've been patching it together for a while and will continue to do so until I either win the lottery or Dell starts giving laptops away.
See, I work with computers for living. You know how they say a roofer's roof leaks? Well, apparently computer people have shitty computers.
I hate computers. I deal with stupid computers and stupid computer users all day, I don't want to go home and do it too (the stupid user being me).
When I graduated from highschool, I was still living in fantasy land. I had a dream of working in radio, then television, then becoming a big-time movie director.
It seemed so easy.
Until my first college course. I was late on the first day and it was downhill from there. To me, college was no different from highschool and I hated highschool.
Well, there was one difference. I didn't HAVE to go. I could drink and party all night, wake up (if I even WENT to bed) still wasted and think, "Class? nahh!" and go back to sleep til we started it all over again that night.
Man, that was MUCH more fun than sitting in some boring class and hell, I paid my own tuition so my parents couldn't say too much.
Well, they could and they did but I didn't even live at home so I could just turn the phone off.
Anyway, so college was a bust. How in the hell are you supposed to know what you want to do at 18? I had no idea what all was out there in the world. How could I possibly make a decision about the rest of my life. I didn't know life at all.
So, I worked and floundered and entered into stupid relationships for the next few years.
Then....computers. Ahhh...the lure of technology, the wave of the future.
I bought into it. I read the brochures and I said "I'm gonna get myself an MCSE! Look! It says here I can start making $40k right out of school!"
I taught myself Windows and the internet and other crap, I can learn this shit easy.
A huge student loan later, I was in classes that were so monumentally boring that at times I actually felt PAIN. It would hurt to sit in that flourescently lit room, listening to the instructors drone on and on about TCP/IP and DNS and and and...hell I stopped listening.
So, school is over and there are now about 20 billion of us all clamoring for the same jobs.
I was not impressed.
I had this education and knowledge and no desire to use it and no one really wanted it.
Anyway, here I am now, in a situation where they feel BLESSED to have someone like me. I make shit for money but I'm the big IT hero. (ha!) It's great for my ego but it's pretty sad.
My career advice for the kids?
Surround yourself with morons so you too can feel like a genius!!
Is this true?
| D | Devious |
| E | Enchanting |
| A | Appealing |
| N | Nerdy |
| N | New |
| A | Altruistic |
I know there are bad things in this world. I KNOW humans do horrible things to one another. I know there are murderers, wife beaters, rapists and child abusers out there because I read about it in the news or see it on TV. It's not usually in my face. It's never been IN MY FACE before....until tonight.
I took the dogs out to potty like I do every night after work.
There is a sidewalk that runs along side the second apartment building with a large grassy field on the other side designated for dogs to do their business.
This sidewalk is about 6 feet away from the bedroom windows of the first floor apartments.
As we were approaching the building, I could hear the sound of angry screaming. I am sometimes entertained by wives and husbands arguing loud enough for the entire complex to hear and I just assumed this was what I was going to encounter.
I walked closer to the windows and I quickly found the source of the noise coming from an apartment with their blinds partially raised and the bedroom light shining brightly enough for me to see everything.
I heard the words "fucking bitch" coming from a rage-filled woman.
This wasn't a husband and wife. I peeked in the window from my place on the sidewalk and saw the focus of this anger. It was a little girl no older than 8 or 9.
Her mother, whose face I couldn't see, was screaming things like, "You're a fucking bitch! How could you do something like this? You don't think about anyone but yourself because you're a little BITCH!!"
My slow brain couldn't quite absorb what I was hearing. This woman was raging against a small child, presumably HER child.
"Sometimes I hate you so much it makes me SICK! You've ruined my life! You're such a fucking bitch. DO YOU HEAR ME????" This last questioned she screamed so loudly that her voice cracked.
I watched the girl for a few seconds. She was kneeling on the floor doing something, I couldn't tell. I expected to see terror or sadness on her face but she had no expression, she just watched the woman impassively.
She must hear this a lot.
The screaming continued. Things were said that didn't make sense to me but must have applied to the situation in that home.
I started to walk away wondering what in the fuck I was going to do when I heard a slap. I went back to the window to see the girl getting back onto her knees. She hit her! She slapped that child. I didn't see it, but I heard it.
I wanted to break into that window and beat the living fuck out of that monster.
I wanted to scream those same obscenities at her while I kicked her in her hideous face repeatedly. Unfortunately, I didn't. I have too much common sense. I didn't want to go to jail while the rest of the world felt sorry for this single mother, attacked by that psycho dog lady.
I was pretty far from my own apartment so I knew anything could happen by the time I got back home and got my phone but I knew I had to tell someone. I just couldn't let this go.
Walking back, I kept thinking about this little girl, living in this situation, being called names no child should ever be called, hearing things no child should ever hear. I started crying. I cried like a fucking baby all the way back home. My hands shook with fury and emotion as I tried manuevering the leashes.
I called the police, their non emergency line, to ask them what I should do. The desk officer immediately said they'd dispatch an officer to my apartment to speak to me and then to perform a welfare check.
When he arrived, I started crying while telling him what I heard and saw. He told me I did the right thing because you never know what could happen if I didn't call.
He was gone a long time and I kept picturing different scenarios in my head.
The officers come to the door, ask to see the little girl. They see marks or bruises on her, arrest the mother and put the child somewhere safe.
or
The mother goes psycho when the cops show up at her door. She starts screaming at the child that it's HER fault. She traumatizes the little girl and turns the situation into a bigger nightmare.
For some reason, neither scenario made me feel like a hero. Sure, if there is abuse going on, the child needs to be taken away but what if it's somewhere worse?
What if she isn't taken away but the mother blames the girl for the cops coming?
Did I do the right thing?
How could I NOT call someone and tell them what I saw?
I kept questioning myself.
About an hour later, I got a call from the police department passing a message on from the officer that visited me.
His exact words, "He checked it out and everything is alright."
How can that be?
I often think about having a child. My main concern about being a mother is being able to take care of a baby financially.
I'd struggle to feed and clothe it but I'd LOVE that child. I'd put myself before him/her on a daily basis. That baby would be my life. I'd give it everything humanly possible.
Kids are a challenge, I know this, but I can't imagine EVER treating a child the way this woman treated her daughter. I can't imagine treating a human being that way.
No, everything is NOT alright.
I received a comment TODAY on an entry from September 11, 2003.
It's buried so far down that I'm afraid no one would be able to enjoy this putrid filth. So, not only will I post the link (above), I'll even paste the comment for your delight.
I've been out of the states for a while so my first question is "Who is Bill Whittle?" My second question is: "Why do you like him?" Virulent and wrong are the two words that come immediately to mind. From where I'm typing it seems that the whole act is "We are if we say we are!" Bush standing on the rubble of what was the World Trade Center and proclaiming "Never again" is such ludicrous posturing. I wish I could believe what everyone in America seems to want to believe, "We are the greatest country on earth!" blah, blah, blah. I think that we are the dissipated progeny of strong and courageous people who came to America to find freedom and oppurtunity, but we are only the fat and flabby offspring who, quite frankly, have had to suffer very little for and deserve even less, the way too much that we have. This Bill Whittle guy's essay made me like your blog-site less and that is a pity. Signing off forever, Jamie
Seeing how I am a "fat and flabby offspring who, quite frankly, have had to suffer very little for and deserve even less, the way too much that we have" I'm surprised I had the energy or strength to dig that far.
God I love Jamie! It's adorable how I'm expected to be devastated by "Signing off forever".
Me: Oh no! Jamie's not going to read my blog anymore. I guess I should become a democrat and campaign for Hilary Clinton in 2008!
Wow. Thanks for making me see the light, Jamie!
See entry title.
I'm listening to Lenny Kravitz's newest effort, Baptism. As my friend Angela would say, "He's sex on a stick!".
I'd like to hand this man a bar of soap and jump his bones, not necessarily in that order.
What I'd like to know is how, in my world, did dirty become synonymous with sexy?
Hell, I don't know anything. It's 1 am on a school night. I'd probably roll around in the mud with him at this rate.
Gap ad, Schmap ad....I don't mind hearing that song or seeing that commercial over and over again. I just wish Sarah Jessica Parker's skinny ass wasn't in it.........and Lenny was naked.
Why is it that buying a bunch of shit at the mall makes you feel so good?
It's probably not like that for everyone...I know I come by it naturally. My Mom gets positively giddy when she's shopping.
Yesterday, we had therapy. Mall therapy.
We started with a lunch of spinach artichoke dip and salad.
Then we hit the mall. I made use of some gift cards I got for Christmas.
I used one towards the purchase of a new black purse.
Got some new jeans and some "J.Lo" sweats. Fell in love with some beautiful teacups and saucers. Then I got sick from the cheesy spinach dip and while I was praying to God in the bathroom, my mom felt sorry for me and bought the teacup and saucer set.
We hit a few more stores then my favorite: Barnes and Noble.
My gift card bought me a calendar and the Collected Poems by Czeslaw Milosz.
After a few purchases of baskets and candles at Pier 1, I picked up some sushi and headed home to come down from my shopping high.
Professional therapy probably costs as much (if not more) as power shopping but you can't wear your therapy or eat it with chopsticks!
I can't seem to let 2004 end without talking about some of the things that happened during its tenure.
Most imposing was the death of my father.
2004 saw me lose many many things but losing my father was perhaps the most surprising of them all.
The rest of the story is mushy and sad (and written VERY late at night while the author suffers from day 4 of a migraine...continue at your own peril!
For the last 20 years, we've been expecting him to die. His health had been steadlily declining since his diagnosis of cancer in 1984. As bad as it would get at times, he always came back from the brink of death and then life went on as normal until the next infection, accident, disease, heart attack, etc.
So, when in March of 2004, the doctor diagnosed him with kidney failure and dad refused dialysis, he was told he had 6 months to live, we all said, "Of course.", and we went on about our lives.
I always called my dad Timex. His health took a lickin' but he kept on tickin'.
He reminded me of Jason Vorhees. Just when you thought he was dead and you stepped over his body, he would REACH OUT AND GRAB YOUR ANKLE!!!!
Dad just didn't die.
Sometimes, secretly, I thought maybe it would have been better if he did. At times he seemed so miserable and preoccupied with all the medication that he took that he just didn't enjoy life anymore. He stopped reading and spent most of his time watching TV and sleeping.
My mother carried the burden of caretaker and wife. Not only was Dad ill all the time, he was demanding and a great big slob. The idea of cleaning up after yourself was completely foreign to him, so Mom's workload inside and outside of the home was significant.
I wondered if Mom would be better off too, if he died.
I thought these things never truly believing it would happen. I mean, we all KNOW death will happen but we never truly believe it until it does.
When Dad took his last breath in June it didn't hit me.
Sure, my father was dead but what did that mean? I felt sad; I felt loss; but it wasn't a great feeling of utter despair.
"My father is dead." "My dad died." I kept saying these things over and over to myself but my naive, sheltered brain wouldn't absorb this idea.
My father was cremated and his ashes put into an oak box.
"My father's body is now in that box." Again....an odd thought, but not devastating.
I tried to picture those ugly green tattoos he had, one on his forearm and one on his shoulder. Now, they are no more. They are just part of those ashes in that box.
Nothing.
It's beginning to sink in now. Maybe it's the holidays, maybe it's because all of the distractions that protected me are all gone now, but I feel it; the sadness, the loss.
We weren't very close, my dad and I. Sure, I saw him nearly everyday but that was because I was visiting my mother.
His emotional problems, depression and scars from his own problematic childhood prevented him from being Ward Cleaver and I resented him so much for not providing my sisters and I with the perfect childhood.
He didn't have what it took to be a great father. He said things he shouldn't have said, a LOT. He did things he shouldn't have done. He was often too immature to deal with a teenage daughter.
I just couldn't forgive him for these things.
But, there was something that made us close. Closer than with my other sisters.
3 of my older sisters are his stepdaughters, he wasn't there when they were born and they remembered, fondly, a life before his arrival.
1 older sister is his daughter from his first wife and he missed a large chunk of her formitive years because her mother refused him visitation.
When he was finally allowed to see her, it was only for occasional weekends and short periods in the summer.
Oh, of course he loved them all. He never used the word "stepdaughter" when referring to the 3 and always included his other daughter in his life.
But, I was different. I came years later when young, frantic lives had started to settle down. He was there when I was born and then every single day until the day he died.
Until the age of about 7 or 8, I was "Daddy's Girl".
He taught me how to bait a hook, how to throw a football, how to play softball and God only knows why, but he was the one that told me, without a hint of embarrassment, what those weird looking maxi pads were for that we just saw on TV when I asked.
He thought everything I did was wonderful and special. He would tell everyone, "Hey, look at my daughter, isn't she beautiful?!" Even as recent as last year when I took him to the doctor, he said that to the nurse. I was embarrassed, imagining her dilemma, "No, Sir, she's pretty damn hideous. We should also give you an eye exam while you're here." is probably what she wanted to say but instead she smiled and quickly left the room.
But this is also the man that scarred me. He didn't handle my fragile teenage years well and apparently, neither did I. Parents can say things that will stay with you forever, good and bad.
For so many years, I only remembered the bad. It's only recently that the good has come forward and the bad has taken the backseat.
I hate that it didn't come sooner.
The first day of Dad's coma, we know he was aware of what was going on around him. When Mom spoke to him and kissed him on the forehead, he smiled. When I rushed into their house and spoke for the first time next to his bed, he lifted his arm as if to touch me.
That night, when everyone left the room and I was finally alone with him, I knew I had to do something I hadn't done since I was a little girl; I had to tell him I loved him. I had to tell him he had been a good father.
I just couldn't let him die without knowing that.
When I whispered those words into his ear, his lips moved as if to say, "I love you, too."
He took his last breath the next day.
No matter what your relationship is like, the death of a parent is surprising. I don't know if it's biological or spiritual but a part of you dies with them.
The co-collaborator of your existence is no longer a part of this world. It leaves a hole that I'm not sure can ever be filled.
Another thought I have that I was unable to verbalize until tonight, was the idea that the person that was half responsible for my life - blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh - now knows the answer to the eternal question. He KNOWS what lies beyond this dreadful universe.
My father has all the answers.
My Daddy is smarter than your Daddy.
Always good reminders!!
I don't know if I agree with #15 and #26 is especially true to me.
1. If a man wants you, nothing can keep him away. If he doesn't want you, nothing can make him stay.
2. Stop making excuses for a man and his behavior.
3. Allow your intuition (or spirit) to save you from heartache.
4. Stop trying to change yourselves for a relationship that's not meant to be.
5. Slower is better.
6. Never live your life for a man before you find what makes you truly happy.
7. If a relationship ends because the man was not treating you as you deserve then heck no you can't "be friends." A friend wouldn't mistreat a friend.
8. Don't settle.
9. If you feel like he is stringing you along, then he probably is.
10. Don't stay because you think "it will get better." You'll be mad at yourself a year later for staying when things are not better.
11. The only person you can control in a relationship is you.
12. Avoid men who've got a bunch of children by a bunch of different women.
He didn't marry them when he got them pregnant, why would he treat you any differently?
13. Always have your own set of friends separate from his.
14. Maintain boundaries in how a guy treats you. If something bothers you, speak up.
15. Never let a man know everything. He will use it against you later.
16. You cannot change a man's behavior. Change comes from within.
17. Don't EVER make him feel he is more important than you are...even if he has more education or in a better job.
18. Do not make him into a quasi-god. He is a man, nothing more nothing less.
19 Never let a man define who you are.
20. Never borrow someone else's man.
21. If he cheated with you, he'll cheat on you.
22. A man will only treat you the way you ALLOW him to treat you.
23. All men are NOT dogs.
24. You should not be the one doing all the bending...compromise is two way street.
25. You need time to heal between relationships...there is nothing cute about baggage...deal with your issues before pursuing a new relationship.
26. You should never look for someone to COMPLETE you...a relationship consists of two WHOLE individuals...look for someone complimentary...not supplementary.
27. Dating is fun...even if he doesn't turn out to be Mr. Right.
28. Make him miss you sometimes...when a man always know where you are, and you're always readily available to him- he takes it for granted.
29. Never move into his mother's house.
30. Never co-sign for a man.
31. Don't fully commit to a man who doesn't give you everything that you need. Keep him in your radar but get to know others.