Prestige

For Sale
I let people talk down to me because that is how I know love.
I let myself be used because that is how I know love.
I know love in means of degradation and objectivity.
I say that I deserve better and that I will not be the victim of such things,
but that is where I am drawn.
Spit on me and I will think that the clouds have opened up to send their rains to cleanse me.
Trample me with your harsh words and I will think that I did something wrong.
Be sweet and you will confuse me and stir resentment,
but I thought you loved me?
And I will complain that you hurt me, but it is that hurt that sustains me.
I will cry, but those tear stains will be like medals hung around my neck.
The long nights spent alone, badges adorning my chest
and those times where I can push you to make me feel my worst,
those are my trophies that I sit in my room, littering the walls with my victorious defeat. 
And all the while something in me questions 
and as soon as I see my get away, I make myself trip
back into the world of make believe, bruised egos, and broken hearts.
I do it to myself, a sick masochist wanting nothing more than to feel
and I only know love in backs turned, 
in mean words,
in broken promises,
in second chances that turn to thirds.
Demean me and I will fall for you.
Hurt me and I will love you until the day turns old. 
Slander my name and I will never leave you.
Reject me and I will come back for more
Make me cry and you will hold my delicate heart in your hands.
I know love in nothing more than depravity and desolation.
Make me wonder my worth and then I will know that I am loved.
That is all I want.
Love me. No, no debase me.
That is the only way I will know.


My friend told me that it takes 21 days to break a habit. It made me wonder then how long it takes to form one. To quit things cold turkey... doesn't really go well. My friend brought it to my attention that people, we, I need to figure out how things affect us and our lives. As we get older we feel the need to carry our burdens alone and keep things to ourselves when in reality our issues only grow with age and the passing days.


If that is true then soon even the weight of the world will seem like nothing.


People walk around every day and others judge them. I judge them. We are disappointed with angry people with scowls on their faces who are rude and seem to have little consideration for others. How hard it must be for the person who is always smiling on the outside, but cry on the inside. The people with the scowls are just being real with the reality that surrounds them. The cheerful person is special and rare. Smile back.


Such a complicated thing man is. Higher reasoning. Critical thinking. Expressed emotions. Repressed memories and thoughts. None of these things ever have to settle on the visage or pass the lips that hold them. One can never really know what another fellow human is thinking even when they speak. Tricky we are. Complicated and deep. Even those lacking intellectually have a river of emotions swirling through them and thoughts that are all their own.


I had a professor tell me once that if you can't speak it, you don't know it. I'm not sure if I can take that for what it is. Feelings can not always be expressed as they are too overwhelming and too personal for words to shape to bring them into the light of perception, especially by another. Some things are also better left unarticulated. Some things should be kept. Some things are also better left unknown. So if I can speak it, maybe it is better left as a feeling, something unknown, something not meant for the tangible world and my physical senses. 


I've heard that ignorance is bliss.

Twilight

So lately I have been dreaming. Like won't stop every night there is a new dream dream. Sometimes I am dreaming twice a night. It started this Sunday. I was on the bus back from NYC and all of a sudden I had this dream. It wasn't a nice dream. That's the other funny thing about these dreams, they are not nightmares, but they are not pleasant dreams. Something is always not right in them. And they feel entirely too real. I wake up with a tightness in my chest because there is always something to raise my anxiety levels in these dreams.

So my dream on the bus on Sunday was simple. It was about real life things. I dreamt that I was on the phone talking to 647 and that at first everything was fine, sort of. It was like before if that makes sense. We were sitting there talking and then 647 mentioned that there was so much to tell me to fill me in on and what not and once those words were spoken I had this overwhelming feeling of what did I do and oh my God I'm talking to 647. Why did I do that. It was like being pulled into a black hole. I ended up hanging up the phone like a crazy person and these texts were flowing in filling me in on 647's life and it was like I opened up Pandora's box. The feeling I had was so strong and I woke up thinking what had I done and I couldn't believe that I was talking to her. The feeling lingered for too long, but I finally realized that it was only a dream.

I blame the reminders and the playlist I was listening to on the bus. The bus was weird all together. It was headed for Toronto. There were too many Canadians on it and I decided to play things like Florence  + The Machine, Stateless, and Ingrid Michaelson. Not something to fall asleep to especially when you have gone the whole weekend nearly to the border of sleep deprivation.

Now I fell asleep later that day, but in a bed and the dream was crazy weird. I was in a car with two other people, one of them my best friend, but I couldn't tell you who it was and we were driving, roadtripping it to who knows where and all of a sudden there are things floating in the air. The craziest thing about these things is that they all belong in Dr. Seuss books. I am so excited in the car and manage to convince the driver to turn around and follow these things and we wind up at this big crazy lopsided house. It is the house from The Cat in The Hat, except it really isn't, but in my dream it was. The house is definitely one from a Dr. Seuss book and the inside, yes we go inside and there are people inside when we go. Two children upwards to ten or twelve and parents. The parents were the parents from Malcolm in the Middle. Weird I know.

All I know is that I end up getting lost in the house and there is another person from the car in the house with me too, but they manage to get out and I am stuck in this awful house and I had found the way out once, but now I can't manage and I am thinking in the dream to think about the book which in real life isn't really how the book goes and so I know that to go out I must act like I am going in, like it is an opposite house. I go up these crazy stairs that are circular and winding, but they don't go anywhere and I end up falling off them and not hurting myself somehow, but in the process I manage to uncurl the stairs and can't get them to go proper again. I am running around this house, trying not to get caught, thinking of reasons to be in the house if I do and taking in all the weird things in the house. Not to mention, nearly everything is orange.

I find myself on the stairs again, but this time I am above the parents room and yes apparently it was a bad time because they decided that they would like to have relations as their children were gone and they didn't know about me. Crazy thing is that although the mom had all the proper orifices, she had an additional one in the middle of her thigh and that was the one used for pleasure.

Then I woke up. Such a weird dream. I never made it out of that house. Just got grossed out,

Last night I dreamt and I dreamt a movie dream. There was a house full of orphans. I wasn't in this dream though, I was just watching it like I was really watching a movie. So this dream is unfolding, I can't remember all the details, but the girls don't like this one girl Rosalie or Rosaline is her name and the house is haunted with these nasty spirits of girls and they want to hurt one of the girls, hurt meaning kill. Rosalie seems so innocent and no one suspects her, not me the dream viewer or the headmasters and not all the girls do either, they just don't like her. I don't know, all this stuff goes on where the ghosts mess with the girls in the house and in the end this big huge fire erupts and teachers and girls are going back into the fire looking for people and they end up on balconies on the sides of the house where the fire has managed to not penetrate and the ghosts are talking through the fire and the fire is huge because the ghosts are pissed and they keep jumping forward, the flames leaping at the girls and the teachers in the front of the house and on the balconies. Rosalie walks up to the front doors and the fire/ghost tries to get her and she has this evil little smile on and it clicks in everyone's head that she is the reason for all this and that innocent people are going to die because of her selfishness. The people on the balconies become engulfed in the flame and die while the ghost screams at Rosalie as she stands there defiantly and tells her that this should be her and how she should have never escaped and she tells everyone who can hear how evil the child is and to stay away from her.

It was more intense in my dream because in my head it made more sense. After the yelling, I woke up, but I felt tight in the chest again because of the presence of evil and the anger of the spirits. It felt dangerous and so real. I can still see Rosalie cute as a button, evil as hell.

So yeah. Those are my dreams. I'm not really looking forward to any more. I like it better when I was so damned tired that I couldn't dream. That's the best sleep when you close your eyes and open them to discover you have been sleeping for 6 hours when honestly it feels like you blinked.

I'm ready for that easy sleep again. I just need my brain to shut off.

Favorite

Have you ever been in a state where every song it seems that comes on the radio, not only do you relate to it, but it sounds like slit your wrists and cry over the bathtub music? No matter where you turn, internet radio, regular radio, random shuffle of your own personal playlist, other people's playlists and then the cat is being super nice to you like you think you are going to die the cat is being that nice to you nice?

Well that place is real and I am wading through it. I am no longer over my head in it or even knee deep, but my ankles feel like they are in the quicksand part of it and so although I am feeling as if I am weaning myself off of the nasty, I am still stuck, even if only a portion of me, that portion keeps me from moving forward and that has to be the most frustrating part about it.

I just want to take a few steps and not have to worry about music, whether in movies or in my house, haunting me. Damn human emotions and connections. We need to be vastly more unique than we are.

So this weekend, a mess. Clearly as my one friend put it, hand me a bit of alcohol and watch the ride. I actually don't believe that and it actually hurt my feelings a lot since I consume quite a bit of alcohol (no worries I don't attend any meetings) and my rough ups happen to be few and far in between. I think I'm not doing that badly for myself. She would disagree.

I have another hole in my body bringing the number to a whopping you'll have to find out from personal experience. I put another hole in my face though, not something that I condone seeing that I am American and Americans don't particularly care for temple expression. My temple, my expression. That's what I say. My culture doesn't agree.

I still am a firm believer that getting older sucks. I am also a firm believer that sometimes people are not as they appear. How is it that you can be so nice to a person, they smile at you in your face and act as if they are genuine and when all is said and done, at the end of the day they are nasty pleather. Faker than fake. They are the hardest to pick out. Only talking behind your back and unless you have good friends or they slip up, you'll never know. Sounds as if I need a cleansing in my life.

And people wonder why it takes so much to really get in. I can't turn off my expression, but I can limit it and edit it much more effectively, because this right now is placing me in vulnerable states to where songs are messing me up and I am taking things much too personal. Even though I believe everyone has good in them, that doesn't mean that they know how to use it.

And what the hell? Nicest Thing? Kate Nash? Really? Should have never thumbs upped it.

Some people are nasty for nasty's sake. Purge yourself of it. It will only bring nasty into your life because the sweetness will want to run away from you or will only get run over by you and turn nasty too. And stop making things up! Isn't real life not interesting enough? And if not then go out and do something or hell, turn on the Kardashians. You see that mess? There are plenty of places to get your fix without screwing up the details of my existence. Let me alone. More suggestions just in case you get bored and decide that my not-doing-anything-to-you-but-minding-my-own-business-self is a good name to have in your mouth.

1. Bad Girls Club---- examples of who not to be and what not to do, but entertainment nonetheless
2. Friendzone----people embarrass themselves here too, but sometimes you get the lucky one who gets love
3. Housewives of Atlanta, Jersey, NY, wherever--- those women are something else
4. Basketball Wives (either will do)----- they have enough drama to distract you from me- don't they?

So if that isn't enough then maybe you should go for a walk, read a book, take up an instrument, or go do kickboxing or something because clearly you have some misdirected aggression of some sorts that needs some channelling. Just saying.

The Blow, True Affection is on repeat and Blinding by Florence + The Machine keeps ebbing at my insides.

Brain, if you don't want to work as well as other peoples and be super smart to provide me with a distraction, then I am just going to need you to do a complete shut off. Sickness and time away from the desk doesn't help either. Fever is making me loopy and the chill of the winter wind settling in is making my fingers numb and they keep threatening to shatter.

I think I have done enough complaining for one day.

Maybe.

Classical Music

Usually I am really hyped for my birthday. This year, not so much. I don't know if it was my mood that brought everything else, but this year just wasn't like the rest. Even though I had time off from work and should have been all no stressed and relaxed, the day was just weird and like my mother has always said, I began to realize that birthdays, especially mine, especially now that I am older, are just another day.

The day before my birthday I was going for a run and my brother and mother were getting ready to leave the house. My brother thought it would be a good idea to pick his nose and wipe it on me. It wasn't. So I ran as that was what I was going to do anyways. The problem was when I got to the gate in the driveway. It is a funny bugger that you have to push just right or it won't open and I didn't push it just right and so I knocked my phone out of my hand and the case snapped off, the backing snapped off, and my battery fell somewhere. Everything was scattered in pieces and it just so happened that the bulk of my phone that front part now void of a case, a back, or a battery managed to fall directly into a puddle. Worst part about the entire situation is that I was being entirely dramatic, because by the time I crossed over the threshold of the sliding glass door, my brother was no longer trying to attempt to wipe boogers on me.

So my phone. I didn't think it was so bad, I wiped it out. I had to come inside for that and as I walk in whining about how I dropped my phone into a puddle and how it may be ruined, my brother proceeds to take his booger finger and wipe it across the front of my top. Gross. I now also have a pink spot instead of red and white cross hatchings, so I can never take my phone in and say fix it without them thinking it has water damage, except I now think it may actually have water damage. I didn't think much water got into my phone so after wiping it down, I put the battery back in and it turned on and my music played still, so I went on my run.

As I take out my headphones when the run is done and try to listen to my music while I shower, the phone is acting all sorts of crazy. I take my shower, figuring it will correct itself. It didn't. I take out the battery when I've finished and there is a puddle IN my phone! Ugh!! Damn you water!! Where did you come from. So the entire time that I am getting dressed, I have my phone apart. Case, back, battery. They can not be friends right now. I attempt to make them get along a few other times over the next two hours, but it is not until nearly twelve that I get her to really work, the only thing is that every time before the and still now you can see condensation collect at the bottom inside of the screen. There is a cloud in my phone. A misty cloud. What the hell. Hate you brother and boogers and dramatic self. I swear I need to channel that energy into something creative. Like scrapbooking or something tedious like that. Then I won't have time for dramatics.

Well fine, the phone works. I am feeling all bummy and basically I have been being nothing but a brat for the past two days. Yes, I admit it, but that all changes when I turn on my car on my way to lunch or work or something, wherever I am going and I am listening to the radio since my phone is acting all haywire funny and it is on the classical radio station because I need some relaxation in my life and so they say call in and win tickets!! So I call in and WIN! I never win anything, but I didn't have to know anything and I got through on the first ring. I think that either no one wanted the tickets, that or no one was listening. Regardless I win and invite my dad to come with me.

As the night should first start out, I thought this was a huge mistake as sometimes my father and I butt heads in a way that you should only see being filmed on hilltops for the discovery channel, that or your local zoo. Things got progressively better though and we managed to make quite a night out of it. The artists were absolutely amazing and captivating. I felt like I was in my own personal concert hall enjoying a night of sweet dreams and relaxation. It is amazing the effect classical music can have on the soul. It is so refreshing and riveting. The connections that are made with the notes and the tone and the rhythm of the music prove your existence and keep you hungry and striving for more. The arts are liberating to say the least and encourage thought and affect to penetrate into every day routines.

That though is not the point of this as I find myself on a tangent. That night my father and I were worried about being dressed appropriately and when we arrived we realized that it was not that type of affair. We were also worried about being on time. Again, not that serious. So we are talking and I look around the room and make a simple observation. I tell my father that we, he and I, are the only colored people in the room. He quips back to me, "Colored? I'm black! I don't know what you are, but I'm black." Thanks dad.

He himself then looks around the room and makes a comment that all white people are beginning to look the same to him. This comment catches me off guard and as I chuckle, the first thing out of my mouth is, "Like asian people?" My father doesn't miss a beat proclaiming through his laughter that they are, "Amazing." He continues with this by saying that at his school there are ten asian students and ten has gone down to five. A student approached him and asked him for something, he gave it to him ranting a bit, probably caught up in the chaos that a classroom can present. A few short minutes later another student approaches and asks my father of something. At this point he is a bit irate and concerned exclaiming, "Weren't you just up here?!" It was another asian student. He then goes on to say how he asked two of the students if they were related. They informed him that other than school, they didn't know one another. My father was flabbergasted. As I am sitting in the concert hall laughing uncontrollably, I now realize what my father meant at they are amazing. He meant it is amazing how they resemble one another. Again, going off the top of my head, I immediately thought that he had been talking about their amazing abilities in math and science.

We were in a fit. We also realized how out of control and stereotypical we sounded and let me be the first to say, it is very unlike us, I think we were just caught up in the moment and I was tired. Lack of sleep can make a person do a lot of uncharacteristic things.

Even though I knew the happenings were out of control, I shared them at my birthday dinner last night. Everyone thought it was funny and out of control, but it was funny to see how stereotypes have such an impression and are so ingrained on our way of thinking sometimes. Needless to say it was wrong. Later that night my best friend and I are talking in the car about this indecent proposal that has come my way. It seems that people really enjoy giving those to me. I wonder sometimes if it says right across my forehead- " I DON'T RESPECT MYSELF. YOU SHOULDN'T EITHER!" Just wondering. But whatever, we are talking about the situation and my friend is saying how this individual talked to me, that shows no respect, she can't believe it, it makes it seem like he doesn't view me as a person, but just a play thing, his play thing and so as incredulous as it is, she manages to one up the situation-nearly- by saying I'm a person and you don't talk to people like that, you talk to hookers (pronounced hook-ahs) like that. She sat there with a sad face while I got a little quizzical and cocked my head.

This is when I had to break the bad news to her. "Hookers are people too."

This was just too much for us and we realized, that stereotypes are everywhere. She was no better than my father and I at the concert. So just remember, everyone thinks that way some time or another whether it be about gender, race, ethnicity, profession, age, whatever. My only thing that makes it halfway ok is 1. if you know it is wrong, that makes it halfway ok, and 2. if you make it funny. Mean true things, not ok. Funny true things with only a hint of fun poking, halfway ok. So remember, know it's wrong and make it funny not mean.

So, sidebar I know, but I just realized, I didn't even get a cake this year. What the hell?! Now I understand why I have been all whiney and bratty. No cake? I always get a cake. The same cake every year since I was old enough to eat cake. My mom didn't make me a cake. The only reason why this really hurts is because she slaved over a cake for my step-dad all the night before his birthday was even here, she had it planned. I'm her kid. How come his birthday isn't just another day? How come he got cake? I feel half my age right now. And yes, I am pouting. I also think I am going to get a pint of ben and jerry's and eat it to my face.

Getting old sucks.

The Price of Convenience

Mondays just shouldn't exist. Whoever invented them should be shot.

That is how I began to write last week about Mondays. Then Tuesday came and then Wednesday soon followed. Last week was literally the week from hell.

So Monday rolls around and as usual I am running a little behind. My car is parked on the street and during the time it took me to get ready, I checked on it about three times. Why check on my car you ask? Well they had been doing construction and I knew they would start again that morning as the wonderful sounds of screeching trucks replaced chirpy birds as my wake up call that morning. I also knew that because of this that it was more likely than not that they would be ticketing and that I was not interested in a ticket of any sort.

During the course of getting ready, I manage to check on my car two or three times. The final time, there is a ticket and so I figure at this point, why bother rushing any longer? I already have the ticket. Thankfully even though I was no longer in a rush, I was only five minutes away from walking out of the door as all I needed to do was brush my teeth.

Teeth brushed. Feeling clean. I don't check on my car again. Why would I need to? I walk out of my door and I walk out to a bare street. No car. My car is no longer there. Where the hell is my car? What the hell?! Seeing that I am always running behind, I need to be to work in five minutes and it will take me ten and now my car is gone!!! What the hell?! This is not the way to start off the week. Not at all. So my car has been ticketed and towed. Great.

So, I am freaking out, I see the guy down the street towing other cars and I am thinking oh how people must hate you tow truck man towing people's cars before ten. How does he sleep with himself at night? And why is it that plumbers and tow truck drivers never especially as stereotype would have it, and even from my limited experience with them, they are always unattractive with too big bellies and greased up hair and the crack that smiles back. Always with the crack hanging out daunting you, because this is the man who has taken you car away and you can't help but think about his personal hygiene and how disgusting that crack must be on the inside. How is it that not only do you have misfortune to have your car towed, but then it must also be by a Nasty McNast? Why is the tow truck driver never some hot guy or smoking chick? Pretty people can tow cars too. Can't they?

Nonetheless, I go up to my grease ball tow man and I feel bad talking poorly about him, because as my memory serves me, he was quite nice to me. He informed me that my car was not really towed, but that it was just around the corner. The story I told work, aka I did not go, was much better. That story had me running around, stuck at a friend's house, calling downtown for my car that they claimed to not have and then eventually I found out that it was around the corner, but honestly, if that man had not been out there towing other cars around the corner, then I would have gone through all those things. Instead, I went to the local convenience store, made a purchase walked outside, called my coworker and told him my story, minus the locating of the missing vehicle part and then proceeded to drive home.

I should have gone to work. That day was entirely unproductive. I didn't even nap. Television just mesmerized me. Stupid mush machine.

So Tuesday comes. I'm not thinking anything. I'm home. Haven't left since I got there the day after retrieving my car from around the corner. So I need to pick some things up from work before I make the commute that I hate to Niagara Falls. I make it to our Buffalo site and I'm late as usual, basically I won't be making it to Niagara Falls until closer to ten. I am supposed to be there around 8:30/9:00 a.m. How I'm not fired, I'm not quite sure, but am grateful for the confusion. Anyways. As I am leaving the Buffalo office and hop on the express way, all of a sudden I hear this noise that sounds like trouble and money falling out of my pocket into someone else's. So I drive to the nearest gas station and see that yes I do have a flat tire. God! Really? Again all before ten. What is happening? What am I being punished for? I don't even think I really did it!! You've got the wrong person!! '

As I try to put air in my tire, I realize that it is not only flat, but just ripped. The tire is old and worn like the elastic in a 5 year old pair of panties that happen to not only be aged, but your favorite as well. The tire is done. Really done. I am nearly in tears. Here we go. Luckily, I stopped at a gas station that was also a garage so I was able to get my tire fixed, but I know that this is going to cost me and now I am stranded. I want to go home and so I call my coworker. Instead of going home though, I figure that it is important for me to go to work and get some work done. I hate work. I hate that this is day two of car shenanigans. My car is not supposed to participate in shenans, just simply be witness to them. She is disappointing me.

So there is an even that we have to go to that day anyways and so my coworker drives us. Thank God that I didn't have to stay in the office. The day got even better when I gorged myself on this pizza that tasted like it was delivered straight from heaven. Yum. So the day is going better, until we leave of course. The battery life on my phone sucks and since I was on it all morning making phone calls and trying to play games to pass my time in the cold waiting for my ride, the battery is low. Luckily, there is an outlet relatively close to our table that we have. The unlucky news is that we make it all the way out to the car before I realize that I have left it plugged in. Genius.

I run back up the stairs, not even five minutes has passed and when I go to retrieve my buddy, my life, no where to be found. What the hell?! Not again. This happened to me once in London and by the grace of God, I managed to find it sitting on the railing of our apartments after it had rained and been sitting there for something like 2-3 days. That was seriously a blessing, but this, we are on a inner city college campus and if I saw a phone, well, no I wouldn't. That is just rude. People have everything in their phones. I'd turn it in. Whatever. I come downstairs and again frantically check my bag and the work bag for my missing phone. No dice. I tell my coworker to just take me home. We get two exits away from my house and there is a call. They found my phone!! Yay!!!

People, stop moving my things just around the corner! I am never going to look for them there. A lady saw my coworker leave our table and got nervous about my phone and handed it in to the directors of the event. Thank you for being so conscientious, but next time, just don't touch it! I will remember eventually.

So great. I am stuck at home again and because my car is at the shop, I have to leave when my mother leaves to get it. She leaves the house when I am just waking up. Not impressed with the way that things are going so far, but I manage and so I pay the people at the shop, he gives me a really good tire with a lifetime warranty- God knows I need it and so I am thinking good. Things are going to get better, but at the same time, I am thinking what is going to happen today. Monday and Tuesday were shit, what does Wednesday have in store?

I jinxed myself. I managed to get to work, get through the day, but the moment that I got into my car to go home that is when the trouble started. I thought it was all a joke. Nothing could possible go wrong three days in a row. Oh how I was mistaken. I didn't even go half a block, I was only able to make it out of the parking lot and past the first corner just before the expressway, my ticket home before my car started cussing me because of the monster under the hood eating away at her parts. I swear it was like the metal eating version of cookie monster going to town on the insides of my baby.

I am stuck on the side of the road in a high traffic area, five old men have come and tried to look at my car, my mother wants to leave me stranded and I am supposed to pick someone up from the airport in half an hour. I just don't' have time for this. I really really don't. So my mother comes, she is a bit cranky, I blame the school children she has to tame from 8:30-3 Mon-Fri. It is a thankless job. So she ends up leaving me in the end because this time my car is being towed, on purpose, and they need someone there when the tow truck comes to sign for the charges or whatever nonsense.

I am sitting in my car twiddling my thumbs, when a good friend calls, hears my situation, scoops me, takes me to the airport, drives both of us back to her place where we get a call from the tow driver about where am I, how long and he needs to take my car. Really? I know you do. She can't move on her own. So we throw stuff in her car and speed over to my baby and the guy isn't even done yet. So I sign my car away and realize that I am once again for the second time this week without a car. And it is only Wednesday. Oh the joys of car ownership.

The next day I took a personal mental health day. It was either that or kill myself. I decided sleeping in was better than sleeping forever.

5-0

I have been pulled over by the police twice in the month of October. Collectively that is more than most people get stopped in 5 years. It appears that there is a fundamental wrong happening with my life.

So, when I was driving back from Atlanta, I forgot to mention that I was pulled over by the Pennsylvania police. So I suppose I should mention this as well then. While I was in London, like seriously my fourth day there, I can check back in my journal to verify, I lost my enhanced drivers license. An enhanced is a step down from your passport. There is a chip inside of it and people can steal your identity. I hope they tried and realized that my credit was shit. So, yes my identity is floating around London somewhere. Hopefully not though, hopefully it is just in the garbage or something. Who knows. You would hope that they would send it through the mail, but considering that was over 8 months ago, nearly 9, I'm pretty sure I am just S.O.L. So with that said, since I have been back in the Americas, I either show my passport as identification or I use an old expired drivers license.

When we are pulled over in Pennsylvania, all I can think is that all I have is my old expired driver's license. Eff. We're going to jail. Not to mention that in the back of the vehicle we have open bottles and possibly some other contraband.

So the cop pulls us over and is shining flashlights in our faces and all I can think about is my expired license that is over seas. On top of not having a current one on my being, I also don't know specifically where it is. All I know is that it is somewhere in my huge huge bag along with an open bottle of Malibu. Not a good look. So registration is being handed over while the cop is shining the light on me along with the interior light of the car as I am searching through my big bag thinking why the hell do I even have such a big bag all while trying not to make anything clink against the bottle in addition to successfully keeping it hidden.

I am having trouble. After about a good five minutes I finally uncover my expired license and sheepishly hand it over. I'm sure that my ears are on fire and I have a flush of red across my face. Dead give away that ish is not up to par aka we're all going to jail huh? Great. Canadians and a lone American. Who do you think they are going the hardest on? It's a toss up.

I forget to mention that the one officer was talking to us, asking us if we know why we were pulled over-which was for doing 74 in a 65, that is only 9 over, he also asks where we are coming from, where we are going. So I tell him, that since the car is Canadian, it is difficult for me to read the odometer since it is in kilometers instead of mph. He takes it into consideration. He also seems to find it quite interesting that we were just in Atlanta for Pride weekend. Apparently he was just down there. Oh how nice. I'm sorry we don't really care. Just run my license, see that I really have one and let's go. I'm over this right now. My hearts all pumping and what not.

So the cop finally leaves. Everyone in the vehicle is talking. Poor passenger friend had to be woken up and is a little upset. Everyone is on edge. I have been driving for like 10/11 hours straight maybe less, probably less, but this incident makes it appear that I have no control over the vehicle any longer. I think there is going to be a switch. But, on top of that awareness, the back-seaters are furiously trying to hide some things by pushing and kicking the items under the seat. All I know is that it has to stop because from the outside it looks like we are either trying to hide things or have spontaneously burst into an all out orgy aka the car is rocking. That makes me nervous, especially since the cops haven't come back yet.

So they finally do come back. They hand me my expired license, tell us to be careful because there have been a lot of accidents due to speeding and send us on our merry way. We can't wait to get to a gas station.

Now about two and a half weeks later I am in the state of New York, in Buffalo and I am learning to drive stick. Oh the joys. I decide that I am not ready to drive on the road yet, but that a big empty parking lot will do. Seeing that it is a Sunday the parking lot at my job seems utterly perfect. Clearly I forgot about the hospital campus police.

So we drive over to the parking lot. We switch seats. I am doing fine with shifting gears and since I seem to have that down pat, it is coming out of first gear that I need to work on since stopping and then starting seems to be the most challenging thing. I go up and down the empty parking lot, stopping and shifting and going and stopping and shifting and going and stopping and shifting and going and although it has been nearly 4 years since the last time that I drove a stick, I haven't stalled once. Because of this, I begin to feel myself getting extra super confident and so I decide that I want to come out of the parking lot into the adjacent one forcing me to have to stop and make some turns instead of only being able to go straight.

This seemed like a good idea until I realized the hospital was in front of me and there was going to be traffic and people and I am clutching in just at the thought of it and stressing out and realizing that this was a mistake and how am I going to make a U turn in this thing. Basically I am stressing out. I see there are cars behind me, but at this moment in time that doesn't matter, at all. I am just thinking about not hitting anything and being able to make full stops and not stall and ... yup. I stall. Great. I also happen to stall right in front of the hospital police who put their lights on and it was just as I had gotten going again so I have to clutch in, brake and eff, this means I need to go into first again.

The officers come over and all I can think is oh my God, please don't smell the eggnog I drank 20 minutes ago. It wasn't even a mugful, but oh my God. Window's down and I get the look. The cop look and the question comes, "So what's going on here." Again sheepishly, I respond that I am learning to drive stick and that I work right there and so I knew the parking lot would be empty and then I got confident and so I thought I could drive down here, but forgot that the hospital was there and...

I clearly sound as if I have been drinking eggnog. Why does he need my life story? All I can think is oh my goodness, stop rambling. Thankfully the guy laughs, probably because he thinks a laugh will calm my nerves and shut me up. He was wrong. Although I shut it, my nerves were frayed. He lets us go, but then I know I have to get the car moving again and I have to turn it around and I'm not sure I can manage.

Now that the police, hospital police at that, have pulled me over, my confidence is shot to hell and I am no longer feeling myself. I stall the car 3 more times and essentially quit, but then I give myself a talking to, sit back down-as I had removed myself from the driver seat-and manage to pull out some good turns and clutch ins and shiftings. Driving stick, not as fun as drag racing makes it seem.

I wonder if November will be this exciting.

Shenanigans

I just wrestled with taking off a pair of wedge boots on the floor of my computer room for a good two and a half minutes before I could get on here and say what else has happened in between the last time I shared and now.

Well besides the shoes, I peed on the floor of the bathroom at my job the other day. You know, when you squat and you are trying to hit the front rim of the toilet so no one has to hear you expel the toxin called urine from your body and at the same time you are in a public bathroom so you are not sitting on the seat because gross and so you don't want your own piss splashing up at you from the force of it hitting the water since you have waited until the last second to pee because you really didn't want to have to use the bathroom at work which is still considered a public restroom and why do they call it a restroom anyways? Who's resting in there? Don't you know there are germs in there? No one is sitting in there, at least I hope not. I know that I am not able to rest with all the different avenues that the germs can find their way upon my being, I don't have time to rest. Germ fighting is a no resting kinda gig. So in my serious concentration about my rear not hovering too close to the seat to be considered sitting and trying to find the sweet spot of the front of the toilet, I found myself distracted reaching for the toilet paper and low and behold, my golden piss is flowing past the top of the seat and dribbling down the base to the floor and there she rests. I got my pee back under control and walked out of there as if it never happened, except it did. Shame.

I also managed to lose my credit card, the same day. Peeing on floors and misplacing credit cards. What else is going to happen? The insanity. Well best friend and I are having a best friend kind of evening and we go to Taco Bell, Anderson's for ice cream and fries and then find ourselves at WalMart for some yarn and what not. In WalMart I am the nasty that everyone hates because I am trying on lipstick without purchasing any of them. I think I tried on like five different lipsticks. Maybelline isn't for everyone. Lipstick isn't for everyone. I was the person I hate though. Everyone wants to know what the lipstick is going to look like, but you have the decent people who if the make-up sucks they don't find out until they have paid their money and made it home and they try it on with that dress one night and realize that coral really isn't their color and so then it sits on their dresser, in a bathroom drawer for the end of eternity. I was not that person and so my lips have taken away the innocence and the magic of a fresh new lipstick from the store. I ruined that for at least five individuals, if not more. It wasn't intentional. I just don't really want to buy something if it is going to suck is all. I wish you could try everything before you purchased it or had to commit to it for an indefinitely long period of time. That only seems reasonable. Just a thought.

So we are walking around the store, lipstick in hand and we venture to the yarn center where it takes forever to pick out yarn. You would never think so, but there are so many options and colors and textures and soft levels. So, we finally make a decision and it is time to leave. My feet are hurting, it is a bit chilly outside and all I have is a thin blazer on and so I am ready. We get to the best friend's house and we are sitting there chatting and laughing like we usually do after our adventures, we need to recap and make sure we are on the same page, in case either of us missed anything. After about fifteen twenty minutes, best friend is talking about let's get something from the store. Shame because we were fiending. So we go down the street to the local Tops grocery market, because best friend is too good for the gas station.

As we are about to get out of the vehicle, I am searching my bra, my itty bitty blazer pockets, my panty line at my hips searching for my card. No where. So then I begin searching my bag. Not in there either. I check my bra one more time because you know, boobs attempt to eat things all the time. Still no card. We are looking in the seat, we are looking under the seat. We are looking on the floor, we are looking on the dash, on the sides of seats. Basically we are looking everywhere and there is no card. None. So best friend goes into the store as I am nearly on hands and knees looking under the seat and on the side of the seat again. No go. She comes back, I drop her off because yay me I get to go back to WalMart. Mind you, we have been gone a good half and hour plus. That card is long gone and I know I brought it out of the store with me. All I could keep thinking was damn it! I shouldn't have paid on that card because now the limit is so much higher, people could do some damage. Dang nation!!

Ok. So I drop her off and I am racing back to the damned WalMart. I finally get there and as I am pulling in I am thanking my lucky stars that I don't have a big 'ol van because the way I pulled into that parking lot made it look like I was on the prowl for little children with sticky fingers. Yes I was creeping scouring the ground hoping for a glint or gleam of my card. No go. I do a U-ie and am at it again. I then realize on my creep back, that I am really not going to find this card, so I park. I park in a parking spot and I get my bag out again. I must say, I love big bags, but they are good for losing things in. Knowing this, I went searching hard, again. No luck. So I give in to the fact that yes I have to walk back into WalMart with different colored lips on (I switched from the one I tried on in the store to another I bought) and hoping with a desperate beggars face on that someone has turned my card in or I left it with the lovely cashier who has been holding on to it awaiting my return.

Luckily I didn't have to show my new lips. As soon as I opened my door and put my high heeled hurting foot on the pavement, what do you see? Low and behold, there is my Discover card staring up at me. I just happened to park in the exact same parking spot as when we first went to WalMart. How unlikely is that? How lucky is that? So, with one foot out of the car I pick up my card, stuff it in my bra and realize that I get to go home. The charade is over.

Lessons learned here-
 1. Don't go to WalMart
 2. Stop wearing itty bitty blazers with next to nothing pockets
 3. Don't be a quitter
 4. Always choose dark colored cards-they blend into asphalt.
And last but not least-
 5. Your boobs will always be a safer place to stash things than pockets that can be picked.
(you're gonna know if your boobs are being picked).

So that concludes the nonsense of my life. I hope it was entertaining. I swear, I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached.

Don't drink the water.

I made a facebook status a few weeks ago that said I hope stupid isn't contagious. I really do hope it isn't because it seems that everyone is just stupid nowadays. I don't get it. And not only is everyone stupid, but it seems like they think it is cool to be stupid. Half the time I am wishing that I could fill my brain with more things, knowledgeable things and yet half wits are walking around saying the stupidest things and laughing about it like it is really funny and cute to be stupid. I am going to go ahead and blame Jessica Simpson for this. Her and that damned show. If she didn't have the damn show and Nick Lachey.

I'm so tired of stupid people trying to talk to me. Stop trying to get at me with that stupid little lingo. Do you really think that talking to me like that is going to work? It doesn't turn me on. It actually turns me off because I just can't handle stupid people and the way you just put those letters together to form that word?
"What up doe?" -- I mean really? Did you really just say that to me? What up doe? Like I have been called a female animal before, but never a female deer, so I'm just wondering... what are you saying? Really? And stop asking me what's good. We are not at a restaurant, there is no menu in front of us. You know, I don't really know what is good. Never been here before. Why is it so difficult to say how are you? Why not ask me about my day? Anything interesting happen? Hell, ask me about the weather, but if you ask me what is good one more time, trust and believe that I can show you better than I can tell you and I'm pretty sure you'll be wanting your money back. That's the kind of show it will be.


So... yeah... that was lazy and why must I think harder to understand just what the heck you are trying to say to me? Why do I feel like I need a pocket translator to get on with this conversation? It shouldn't be like this. It really shouldn't. I mean we both leave in North America right? Is that English you're speaking? And I'm wondering... do you talk to your mother like that? If you don't talk to your mother like that then why would you talk to me like that? If your mother talks the way you do, then just don't talk at all. And if you do talk to your mother like that, still don't talk to me like that because I just don't know what you are saying. It shouldn't have to be a guessing game. If I am asking you to define more than fifty percent of what you say to me, that's just too much and maybe you need to reevaluate your mixture of recognized slang usage and the rest of the English language, because I just can't. I can't understand you and we speak the same language. That's a problem. Fix it.

I swear people just think it is cute to be stupid like knowledge is the wrong thing to have. Knowledge is the one thing that you can manage to impart to others without having your own supply diminish.  Knowledge is the one thing that you can hold on to until death without it depleting in value (to people who understand its importance) or quantity. Please people. Open up a book so your mind can open up too. I don't understand how a girl decided to talk about how she hates how when people get into relationships and the partner starts dictating who the person can and can not see. She said that it just doesn't make any "since." What the hell?! Any since? Really? Did you mean to type sense? Because sense fits there. Since you are such an idiot, maybe you can have some sense knocked into you. Maybe? I'm hoping so. I really am.

I understand that technology also plays a part in this because I have also lost my ability to spell, but since and sense? No. I can't spell words like onomatopoeia and crap and crap, the stupid mac auto corrected it for me and everything, so it is spelled right. God, see. Technology makes us too dependent. Stop auto correcting me. Make me learn about my mistakes. I like PCs better. They just red underline me. They do not auto correct me. They give me a chance to make my brain think. One day we will have machines to do that for us though. I mean seriously people. Do you realize all that you are missing? Technology is taking over. Facebook is the new news. That is not good.

I found out today that an old professor of mine passed away. My friend Facebook chatted me about it and he said that he found out through Facebook. It is sad that a social networking site is our first place for news. That is where we find things out about each other and the world. He asked what that says about our culture and it says that we are highly dependent on non interactive, non face to face contact. Words on a screen, while we are except for our fingers, stationary and silent. Not a word passes our lips. We do not speak to one another any longer, we text and type and send emoticons because we are unable to express ourselves without stupid little smiley faces, let alone in person. We are losing contact and one day we won't know how to interact without a screen between us. It is a shame when it is so much easier to hang up the phone and then immediately text the person who you were just talking to and tell them things that you could have and should have said with a verbalization, yet we resort to texting because there is a barrier there, a built in guard that keeps us separated from our words and the individual that they are intended for.

We are losing ourselves as a species. We are losing what it means to be human. I want more than to talk to a screen, to read simplistic words. I want to have meaning and memories that are attached to them, not simply late nights with my mac or PC. Is there true intimacy there? Can there be?

So I suppose that I can only expect people to be so damned stupid. If all they are looking at is youtube all day and no one can be bothered to look up from their mobile devices to provide any better an example and technology takes over our thoughts and is a brain for us... I guess then it isn't their fault. But then, I have to wonder, how are some people still making it out alive?

I'm not ready to give up and surrender myself over to megabytes and metal. Scrap that.

Oh, by the way, wanna hang out?

This is what living looks like.

So Thursday I got my evaluation at work. I need to get this off my chest before I have another Tuesday. Basically I think that this week sucked. It was the worst evaluation ever and I didn't know what to do about it. Well I ended up talking to my supervisor about it and that was a half an hour wasted of my life. I swear. When I went in there I told her that I was concerned just because if the evaluation was a reflection of my performance, then I wanted to know specifically what it is that I was doing wrong or that I could be doing better aka why my review was full of 2s when the range is 0-5, 0-1 being unsatisfactory, 2-3 being satisfactory, 4 being commendable, and 5 being outstanding.

Now I wasn't expecting any 5s because I don't think I am the best or anything and there is always room for improvement, but I also wasn't expecting all 2s. When I hear satisfactory and there are two numbers in that ranking and I have the lesser of the two, I hear that it is a step above unsatisfactory and that I am doing just enough to get by. Yes I am doing my work and the job is getting done, but it is not to the best of my ability and I'm not proud of 2 work. That is like bringing home a D. I passed, but I am on the verge of failing. I tried to explain this to my supervisor as objectively as I could, but she wasn't hearing it and I didn't go in there for her to change my review, I simply wanted to know where I could improve if these were really the scores she thought I deserved.

I'm just gonna throw a couple examples out there. My supervisor comes to me for multiple things. Multiple. I keep things organized, I plan events, I am the go to person when things are in the clutch. I don't care for it because it can be very overwhelming and I feel taken advantage of because I don't know how to say no and so I am usually the one cleaning things up that other people were supposed to do that they then throw on me. I don't like it because I feel like I don't have enough time to do the best job I would like to do, but within the time frame given and the resources provided I think that I do more than ok and always get the job done if it means staying late, driving to Niagara Falls, I am always figuring things out on my own because I feel like I can not rely on my supervisor, so it is easier for me to just do it myself. I do CC her on everything I do though. I also verbalize what is being done so that she is aware.  I don't understand how on such measures as accountability, flexibility and adaptability, and job knowledge then I can score 2s. I knew more about the job when I first started than she did. I have also done training for her to teach her how to do the things that I knew before entering this position. I also just on Thursday did a presentation for an outreach initiative that was originally designated to someone else, then at the last minute given to me. I didn't complain (out-loud or to her) and so I'm not understanding. And no one prepares me for anything. I am constantly learning on the fly and on my own. I have set up my own trainings and just don't understand these 2s.

My supervisor then told me that it means satisfactory which means I am getting the work done, but I explained to her that yes I understand this, but I have never gotten a 2 before and I feel that the work that I do is above and beyond. I really said that I think that I work harder than what my evaluation reflects and if she is not able to observe this that it concerns me because I want her to be able to see the hard work that I am putting forth. She then went on to explain that this was only a three month period that she was able to base this off of and that for my sixth month the scores would more than likely be higher because she would have more to observe of me. What? Either I am a good worker or not. Either I produce or not. I am not going to change as a worker. I bust my ass now, you think I won't later. The only thing that would make that happen is, oh right an evaluation like this which makes me feel unappreciated and overworked. So in three months I haven't done anything more than 2s? What? Just put not applicable then if you haven't observed it instead of a 2!

Whatever. I was telling my mom and my friend the other day and my friend had the right idea. She said well, if your supervisor thinks that what you do now is 2 work, then do 2 work and then mayb you may even get as a high as a five. I couldn't stop laughing. My mother agreed.

Anyways. Friday was a pretty good day aside from having to talk to the supervisor about the damned evaluation. It was our social workers last day and so it means that I will be doing a lot more case management! So excited. That is one thing about my job, it gives me so much experience and helps me deal with situations that I haven't had to deal with which just like they say if it doesn't kill me, it only makes me stronger and I swear, I am building up my tolerance. I'm just nervous that my sass is going to come out like 24/7 which then means I'm just being a bitch and still can't control my emotions. Can't I just fall in a nice happy medium?

Ok. So at work I am addicted to email. I used to hate it, but now I love it and I email all the time. I still suck sometimes, but mostly I try to be really good at email. I seriously have gotten so much better too. Ok, besides the point. My friend from across the border lets me know about a party that night except I wasn't being a listener and just said I had to babysit on Saturday so couldn't come, but thanks for thinking of me. Next thing you know I am on facebook getting all jealous and what not because my girls are talking about the party. I read what they are saying though and it was saying tonight which was Friday and I emailed my friend back and was like heck yeah I can venture down for that party. It only means driving for 2 hours and then waking up hella early to be back for work Saturday morning. I can definitely do that.

So then the calls are going out. Excitement is up. Emails stop being paragraphs long and turn into one word- Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! (that is a scream by the way). I call my best friend, but she is no where to be found and by the fifth call, the voicemails I am leaving her are beginning to sound quite threatening and obnoxious. I am also beginning to get anxious as the decision to go to Toronto came at 2 in the afternoon and no one has packed, no one has alcohol, no one has money, and no one has heard from anyone. I also had to cancel plans for these shenanigans. Sorry if you are reading this. I owe you.

So we are meeting at a new location except my friend doesn't know their address. What? How don't know your friends address? Ok. Fine. We will just meet at the regular meeting place. So I finally get a hold of my partner in crime and I tell her the low down aka we are going to Canada for the night and will be home in the morning. I agree to this outting for another reason, 647 who was originally going to be there, is not going to be there and so I am so down for a girls night.

After driving for two hours, I am told, with a drink in my hand that I will be driving to the club. Not impressed. Things change. The boy whose house we are staying at has decided that it is ok for me to be planking it the half an hour drive down into the city. In it. I like drinking and so once this decision is made shots all around. It's going down.

So I thought being able to lay down in the back seat of a charger was going to be the best idea and best spot in the house. I was mistaken. I kept getting my head dented on the door of the car everytime it took a turn, not to mention it is a horrible idea to half plank it in a dress. Half plank meaning that my legs kept getting bent without my brain telling them to bend and I was being inappropriately touched and people were laughing and I couldn't recline and relax. I was constantly at the mercy of the turning car and the bodies beneath me. Finally the ride was over.

We arrive, but no one knew where we were going and so we had the address and then I realized that we were going up in numbers when we really needed to be going down and so we turn right around then we get there and the line is crazy long. 647 ends up showing up. Can I just say I wasn't expecting to see her and as I am crossing the street my friend points, I think to the club, but nope it is to 647 and my unsuspecting self goes into a shock face because I am shocked. Not who I wanted to see that night. So we say not a word to each other. Me, I have nothing to say, she who knows why. And I realize that this is the way it has always been with 647, except I wasn't eager to see her this time around and so when she acted like it was nothing, as she always has, I wasn't upset, because I finally got it. I could have just done without the reminder of her in my face on a girls night out.

So, we find a friend, skip and then decide that the line is too long anyways. I found friends while in line though because I was afraid from all the pushing that a fight was going to ensue. I was also afraid of the fight since the best friend decided that she wanted to start one and so when this poor little rude little white girl was on the phone talking about ghetto bitches and this ghetto place that she just doesn't want to go into, the best friend took it upon herself to show her about ghetto Kevin Hart style. I couldn't stop laughing when I got the recount of this. So the girl is talking ghetto this ghetto that and I go to where she is and I start off with a ya know you're being rude talk as her friend pulls me aside and apologizes because her friend is drunk and it is her bday. All I want to say is shut up talking to me. I hear you. Stop repeating yourself. I'm drunk too, but I'm not being rude. What the heck.

Little did I know that while the friend of the rude girl is apologizing and explaining to me, my best friend is not talking, but mushing the poor unsuspecting girl in the face not once, not twice, but three times. The girl gets out of her grasp for about 2 point 5 and so I get summoned, "Katie! Get her!" (this is all in the shut it down voice that you can hear Kevin Hart do). I am unable to 'get her' as I am still being  apologized and explained to. What the heck. Still didn't know that the best friend was over there causing trouble. Next thing you know the explainer is walking away and the rude friend is being picked up with arms and legs flailing and all I can think is why and how did she get so upset. I later find out about not only the mushing, but that when I was summoned, since I didn't get the memo, the best friend snatched her up by the hair, you know as a means of saying, "come over here." Hilarious. Who does these things.

After those shenans, we leave. At this point. I am ready to go anywhere just to shake my butt. There was no butt shaking to be had. None. Friend one was too done. Friend two was too tired and the boys were acting like jack-offs. Jack-offs. They were really nice and funny though. I think we may be friends. So we get back to the house. I'm pouring a drink getting eggs and peppers and mushrooms and milk and everything out of the fridge because all I really want is Jims. The eggs sucked! I ended up eating shrimp flavored pasta and let me tell you, although it was delicious, I wanted to throw up after every bite from the shrimp. I really don't like shrimp. Really.

The night was to say the least out of control. I met Tarzan's best friend. You should really hear his laugh. I recorded it for my ringtone on my phone.

Six thirty a.m. rolls around and I jump up thinking I am somewhere that I am not and all I can think about is how I wish I were at border. Best friend and I also ran out of cigarettes the night before. Basically we sucked. Neither of us showered before work, but were both on time. We also brushed our teeth, so we got points there. Old men loved us in McDonalds despite our smell. Maybe we don't suck.

I'm thinking I need another over-nighter. Next time more drinks, more dancing, and a little less drama. Just a thought.

WTF?!

So Tuesday I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. I felt like a crazy person headed to the looney bin. First off, I wake up after having the weirdest dream of life within a 45 minute go back to sleep period. So once I laugh that off, I have this weird yet intense feeling of anxiety settle over me and next thing you know everything has me on the verge of tears. Twenty minutes late to work and I am about to cry. Having to pay the toll and tears are welling. I hit my third red light and my eyes are going wet. Not to mention I am typing up a fact sheet on the transmission of HIV and oral sex and I have to stop because my mind is going crazy and my eyes are responding. What the hell is that about? I mean the little demon monsters came and ate my ovaries already and aren't due back for some time now. So what is the issue?

All I know is that I was having serious anxiety. My heart was beating so badly I was nervous that it was going to beat out of my chest or crack my ribs at the least. My hands were sweating like a criminals and before it got to this stage which was the second half of my morning, I had already decided that I was going to run away, that I needed to.

Funny. My best friend did this running away thing back when she was sorta around my age. She was being detained, found herself in a bathroom, jumped out of the window and wasn't heard from for a week. Then she brought it home with a quick weekend in Niagara Falls where I finally was able to talk to her and we drank sweety little twist offs and watched Up and My Sister's Keeper. Cried during them both. Couldn't.

I'm just saying, if I am going to run away, I want it to be as theatrical as hers. Oh right, I forgot to mention, people were looking for her. People were at the bus station, at her house, going all around Buffalo looking for her praying to God she hadn't completely lost it and done anything crazy or stupid. Luckily she just disappeared and was alive and well.

I am thinking of going to someplace too. I can't disclose the information... well I suppose I could because it doesn't matter if you know where I am going if you don't know where I am. I am thinking of Chicago, Boston, San Diego, Atlanta, Vermont, Montana, even Minnesota just to run away to where I don't know anyone, they don't know me and I can start with a fresh clean slate. I want to be able to start over and London is much too far away at this moment. I am losing it over here although I must confess, I bring it upon myself.

So you know these Jerk-off McGees that I am always falling for, that all girls seem to fall for? Well, I am one. My best friend who did this running away business also told me that 647 was my karma. Well aint karma a real bitch? I have to say that was one of the worst parts of being stuck in that situation, I knew the actions and reactions and I knew why some things could be said and then others couldn't. As the Jerk-off McGee, you can genuinely like a person all while knowing that it isn't going anywhere, but you don't necessarily want to lose a person, so even though you know that they like you way more than you like them, you keep them around by doing just enough and just enough will work for a long long time. Also with Jerk-off McGee, you can say so much more than you do, that is a key characteristic. McGees stay with an arsenal of quick fixes and nice lines to make you feel a certain way that their lack of actions will never back, but the words will keep someone fixed for longer than you think.

It takes a strong strong woman to get away from the sticky grips of a Jerk-off McGee. Seeing how I am part of the problem aka I have definitely been the Jerk-off McGee and so I should know. I'm really good at being that person, that Jerk-off McGee person. Usually when someone likes me, I most definitely don't like them back. Sometimes they get lucky though. That sounds really conceited, but I swear, it is such a pattern. I never like people, but the people that like me are the people I say I want, but then I really don't. Ugh. What do I want? I think it is time for me to go on that silent retreat I found out about because I need to find myself. I mean I am 23 (got it right this time), not 13. I should not just now be figuring shit out. I should have most of it down and just working out the kinks. It is not time to run away. Who runs away in their 20s? Kids run away. Not adults and if adults do, it is because they are unstable.

Oh my God. I'm unstable.

My life is out of control and I am not sure what I am supposed to do to get it back on track. The move back to London is supposed to help, but I need to act, not avoid. Avoidance is such a pleasant coping mechanism though. My favorite manifestation of the mechanism would be sleeping. If only I could sleep my life away until the interesting parts. The parst where I have my career-and I am successful, I have my house, I have whomever-cat or partner, and I am driving something other than the Money Maker. At this point I would like to have also been to more than 9 countries not including the United States, Canada, or Mexico.

I think I am going to take a nap. Maybe when I wake up either I will quit my Jerk-off ways seeing that karma taught me a thing or two. That or I'm going to be in my sitting room of my house with a cat on my lap and a book in my hand thinking about ways to rule the board room on Monday. Whichever.

Here we go again

Today I don't like bananas. Bananas and I have a love hate relationship except maybe never quite to either of those extremes. I never really love bananas, but I never really hate them. Today though, I don't like them. I discovered my dislike only after I had peeled half of the banana that was on my desk. I thought it would be a good idea to get a serving of fruits into my diet since pizza doesn't fit as nicely into the food pyramid as I would like it to. Well, eating that banana was like torture. My face became tight and I looked as if I had bitten into a lemon and the smell... Oh my goodness the smell. I really don't like bananas today. That is all.

So today on my way to work I was thinking of something to write about and as I was on my way to work placing the finishing touches on my face I realize that there shouldn't be a law against texting and driving, there should be a law against women putting their faces on in the morning and driving. Of the fifteen or so women in cars that I passed this morning, 2 had a form of lipgloss or lipstick in one hand and eyes to the rearview mirror with an imaginary guide in the other. 4 or them were putting mascara on and 3 others were putting on some type of foundation or concealer on. The other women seemed put together, but I am guessing they had longer commutes and so put their faces on earlier in their drive. I'm just saying, if I was making laws- 1. I'd be immune so it would be ok to pass it since I was one of the women putting on mascara this morning, but 2. the state would be making money!! It is so much easier to see a tool of face perfecting than a quick finger text. I'm looking out for the red lipstick, the black mascara and the fit me foundation. You know it is going to happen, every morning, the finishing touches. You'd get more tickets by 8:30 than the rest of the week will produce outside of those early don't look at my face yet hours. Check out your morning commute. Tell me you don't see the face application in process. If you don't then you may need to be ticketed for driving with a vision impairment. Suspension. Sorry.

So today was a weird day. I mean I know it was Monday, but it was weird.

I dealt with my first HIV positive patient today and I was more than nervous that the patient would be losing it and then I would lose it and that we would both have to be restrained and calmed down and walked over to CPAP at the hospital next door. Luckily that didn't happen and the patient took the news remarkably well. The scariest thing though was knowing that after the situation, my fears would subside and I would calm while the patient would have to hold onto the fear that I briefly felt and that my fleeting moments would become their life. A cyclical thought that I only had until broken by the end of the session. The patients is now for life.  HIV is no longer the death sentence it once was, but it does not change how earth shattering its realization, its transmission/conception is. This patient was so concerned about not being able to live the life that was planned and dreamt of and it was so disheartening to hear that. A middle aged woman speaking of what she should have done and how she knew better and how she dealt with a Jerk-off McGee and it was crazy to hear her talking the way she was and it doesn't matter your age. Unless you decide and truly choose to do better, then you will always let yourself be run down by less than what you deserve and in the end no matter which way it shows itself, it will always hurt and it will be lasting. Some longer than others, but the banged up knees and dirty laundry will always stick around somehow.

Gotta learn while we can because one day the test is going to come.

So after that, I had a lot of antsy energy because my mind was on overload mode and I couldn't really talk to anyone about it, that happens more often than I would like it to and I was just being so silly, but I wasn't feeling like happy silly, I just didn't know what to do with my fidgety-ness. So I finally calm down, decide to go eat and then yup, distracted. My food was great-pizza is always good-such comfort food, but then as I am calming down here comes one of the providers.

Now I feel bad because when this provider talks, I can never understand him unless I only focus on him and each and every word that he is saying. If I don't do this and I miss the first and the third word, then it is over and you have lost me. Well I am reading TIME magazine and he starts talking to me and I have no idea what he said so I just say anything and I think he knows I can't understand him so he just gave up, but then as I go back to reading, my senses are assaulted by the scents of his food. Now some of it smelled mighty good, but I didn't bother to look up as I didn't want to make eye contact and invite more conversation so I didn't, but then all of a sudden all I can hear now is the gnashing of his teeth against his food and it doesn't stop. I thought it was going to, but it didn't. Why do you sound like a cow has taken over your body? What is that about?! So after about 15 minutes of the cud chewing I couldn't take it anymore and I had to leave.

The day was just crazy. I left work an hour late and have to be to work half an hour earlier than I usually am and no not the on time time, but half an to the time that I am supposed to really be there. What to do what to do.

I also realize that I love to go thrift store shopping and that old people had/have good taste. I like that they give their clothes away and I feel bad because all I can think about is that my one friend once said that thrift stores smell like dead people and that's whose clothes I am trying on. How creep of thought is that? Creep. That's how.

Anyways, not much else happened with the day. Maybe tomorrow will be more exciting.

Keep your fingers crossed. x

Headaches

I have been awake since 6:30. It is currently 7:20. I need to be to work no later than 9 this morning. I am sure that I will still be late. I haven't showered yet and I am sitting in clothes that still should not be on my body. I think I will go for a run to clear my mind and come back to this. Give me something to write about.

Ok... I'm back.

On my run I was thinking, as I was doing my Rocky hands in the air, so happy I am done with this damn exercising thing, that how unfair it is that boys do not have to worry about things that I feel no one should have to worry about aka hair. Shaving hair away to be exact.

When I lifted my arms after my Rocky I felt slightly embarrassed seeing that I haven't shaved my armpits in over a week now so they are looking a bit unruly. I then realized that I need not worry as no one was in my immediate vacinity and even if they were I was moving too quickly and the sweat on my face would have been more than enough of a distraction to keep a stranger passer-byer from staring into the forest of my armpits.  Yes, I was in the clear.

Now I began to get angry because here I am 24 years old, wait, I'm 23. Damn, that keeps happening. How come I can't remember my age? Ever? Ok, right back to the hair. So... my 17 year old brother, his armpits are disgusting and hairy and gross, I could braid the hair under there. You should also see his legs, they look like a monkey's back. Now mind you, I never quite get that bad, but I wish that I didn't have to shave my legs or my armpits or my stomach or my under area or any place for that matter. I got lucky. I'm a low maintenance gal and so I don't do the mustache(even though I must confess I have me a five o'clock shadow right above my lip), I don't do the eyebrows. My finger hair is still intact. My arm hair hasn't been so much as combed over. The hair on my toes does get shaved every once and awhile though because I gotta say, you don't always notice it, but when you do, that squish face is quick to appear across your visage. I don't like the feel of the squish face. Not pleasant.

But that is besides the point!! The hairiest of our species get to keep it like mementos and little novelties. Who wants a keepsake of hair clumps in their mouth or stubble burn after making out? But apparently male is synonymous with you don't have to shave. Is it because we expect it? Is it because it is considered ok? I'm just saying. If you get to grow a beard then my happy trail is making a comeback, because you hear that? Happy trail aka makes me happy.  If boys don't have to shave their legs unless it is a special occasion like them being on the Olympic swim team then I shouldn't have to shave mine unless it is your birthday, Valentine's Day, or some sort of anniversary.

I mean why do I always have to be on call as a female? Always trimmed up and always as hairless as possible? I just don't see the point. It's not like people are seeing me naked everyday at some point during the day. No, my clothes stay on. I mean if you want to do things which would cause me to raise my arms or show my legs or show you my nether region, I'm just gonna say-gimme a heads up. Gimme some forewarning. Then, because it is what is expected of me, maybe I will go ahead and do some trimming to not embarrass myself and please you at the same time. I mean just how many designs can I configure my pubic hair into? Are you really even paying that much attention? You know I put my initials in there? Or are those your initials? My moms'? Ooh... I can't remember. Don't worry about it. I'll just go for a landing strip or maybe a diamond or something. I mean, do you have any ideas? No, no you don't. Leave that up to me right? And then again, on top of it, If I were to show up looking like I have a National Forest as the capital of my downstairs you'd flip. Just part the trees. There is always good stuff under the brush. Push the tree branches out of your way. What do you think they did in the olden days? At least I shower (fairly) regularly. Gheeze.

Ok, enough of the hair rant, you already know that if you come to this neck of the woods, I may have hair on my legs, under my arms, and above my top lip. You got lucky because it doesn't grow on my back or under my chin. Yes, thank God. I already have.

Now to present day issues. I think that babysitting is the best and most immediate, not to mention cost effective, means of birth control. I don't want kids. Not right now. Not right ever I'm pretty sure and right now the way my head is feeling is out of control. Kids screaming, kids kicking, kids dropping things and the alarm that is going off in my ear right now. I feel like it is a fire alarm at an elementary school with the lights and the flashing and the screaming and the kicking and oh my goodness. What did I do today? I mean I got my work done. I did lots of work. I cleaned off my desk. I barely used my phone and although I was late, not by much. Only 20 minutes. Please children. Let the babysitter live. Please alarm, stop going off aka eff you Brinks. Make it stop!!

I feel like I am dying. I feel like my brain is going to shortly explode and spray itself across the walls of this house. That wouldn't be too good. My throat is scratching the saliva that is being forced down it. My nose feels like Pinocchio's nose aka not attached to my face and my temples feel like someone is drilling plutonium filled screws into my skull. What is that about?!

Did I ever say that I complain a lot?

Well why stop now?

My heart is still achey. My head is achey. I think I am falling apart. I feel like the tin man or a jungle gym since there are little children running about me and pulling at my parts.

Lol and one of the kids just farted. They are blaming it on the dogs. Highlight of the night. I lied, we also made lunch bag puppets. Cutest thing ever. I love kids, I just can't have my own. Because after the moment of cute, all I am hearing is I tooted over and over again with mouth fart noises. Any other day I would be making fart noises right along, but today even the bass from the tv which I didn't know existed is hurting my head.

Please, someone put me out of my misery. Thank God for Sponge Bob.

Last Resort

It is currently 8:30 in the morning. I realize that I haven't shared in awhile and I blame work. Work is where I get my best venting slash complaining out because that is the one place, the place where I spend the most of my waking hours which then leads me to vent slash complain, aka I hate my job. I blame work for not sharing because I used to write my blog at work. Instead of being fired for writing my blog at work, which I may have preferred, my internet was suspended as apparently this blog site nearly made our server crash. Thank God I am on a Mac now. Stupid PC. I lied I love PCs. They make my life simple besides, I am way too computer illiterate to walk through life trying to figure out high tech stuff aka I have no choice but to love PCs. Happens.

Ok, so back to work. I can't write my blog there, but that is the time when I need it the most. Why it almost made the server crash, I'm not sure, all I know is that I can't write and express myself, but half the building in the administrative wing can sit on Facebook all day? Doesn't Facebook have a glorious amount of spam and server crashing possibilities up its sleeve? Really? Only my life source blog makes things crash? Lame.

So this weekend I found myself in Atlanta for Pride weekend and to celebrate a friend's birthday which was the weekend before. Can I say I maybe should have gotten flight cancellation insurance and cancelled my flight? What a hot mess I was. The first night I get there, things are crazy, it felt like cabin fever. My one friend lost her wallet which led to a conspiracy theory that still to this day has not been uncovered.  We drank our lives away and of course I hadn't eaten so my life drinking resulted in life upchucking and also tears. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I cried. I cried my little eyes out so badly because I was in love or loved, or liked a lot or whatever. I really liked someone and I clearly didn't know what to do with it, because instead of acting like an adult, I was little kid crying on the bathroom floor of a hotel room kissing the porcelain throne. Who does that? I do that.

Needless to say I am an embarrassment to myself, but at the end of my little kid cry, when the culprit left the room, oh right, yes the person who I was crying over was most definitely right in my face, when they left I not only cried harder, but sound effect cried. You know the cry with the sob in between? Serious crying, had to catch my breath hard to talk, I look like shit crying. Never again. You would think that crying like that would possess special powers though because it takes so much out of a person. Let me tell you, save it, because there are no such special powers except for the uncanny ability to make you look pathetically unstable and desperado. You don't want that. It's not a good look for anyone.

So the following night, things are better, I've got my cry out, so I should be good right? Wrong. My feelings didn't just go away and the night before plus earlier that day have done nothing but made my head reel and I am more confused than ever with questions and questions and I am going to be late to work seeing that I need to be there in 19 minutes, still haven't even showered. But that is besides the point. So the next night I get grilled, you could have served me for a healthy dinner because that is how well done I was. Out of control. Grilled about nonsense and no matter what my answer, no matter how many languages I could have spoken it in (not very many), my answer wasn't good enough and thus couldn't possibly be believed. Shame.

Ok, you wonder shame, I liked so hard in this situation that I was acting like I was superman, acting like I was going to stop the world just for some extra time with this girl. No point in stopping the world if no one is going to notice.

It's funny though because us girls, yes I will go right here in this category, we say that all we want is someone good, but let that someone good come around, then we ignore the shit out of them, not to mention treat them like shit because if someone is nice, things are confusing, nice isn't nice. Nice isn't fun. Nice isn't what we really want, because as soon as Jerk-off McGee comes along, that is who we are falling for. That is who we are in it to win it for, but for what? For lonely nights and missed phone calls? For shed tears that fall upon calloused eyes and deafened ears? To feel nothing but a love unrequited that runs deeper than one's essence.

That to me is no way to feel and that to me is nothing to deal with. I know I'm not the best, but I deserve better. One should never have to settle for something that doesn't make them feel good and feel satisfied, no matter how much they want someone, because if they deserve you, they will appreciate your try. It won't just be one sided.

I had to learn this the hard way. Funny thing is that I am always learning this the hard way. I continually think that one day I will be enough for a Jack-off McGee and time and time again, I am proven wrong. It just has taken some time for me to see that it isn't me that isn't enough. I just need to stop lowering my standards, stop placing myself below par to fit to people who don't match me.

Have you ever heard of the phrase "have your cake and eat it to?" Well I had a friend who told her significant other that and he became confused saying that of course if I have cake I'm going to want to eat it too, what does that mean?! So my friend explained it like this, you want your cake, cookies, pie, tarts, you want it all. Then he understood. We have this tendency of liking these people who are unwilling to give us anything in return, but because we like them so much we stick around. We deal, convinced that one day things will get better. It is like setting a feast for the person. You want to please them and do everything you can for the person that you set up a feast for them (usually you and others) and instead of sitting down at the table with them like equals you are on hands and knees begging for whatever scraps they care to share, but because you have put so much work and time into preparing the meal (the relationship) and you like the person sooooo much, you are willing to take whatever they give you because at least it is a piece.

Well, I have decided that I am tired of settling for scraps and acting like a beggar. There are too many people who would like to sit down to dinner and share with me instead of throwing me scraps. So ready to be on the same page. Finished one book. Time to start another although, that last story really threw me. I think I might just do some writing of my own this time. I can't bear right now to have another's input. Some stories will do that to you.

I'm just waiting for my happy ending. That or my loft and three cats. Whichever comes first.