Friday, March 23, 2012

I choose Happy

Finally, I'm starting to feel more like me. I'm ready to be social again. I want to be active and play.

How can I properly explain the spirit lifting? The weight of grief and uncertainty are loosening their hold and my naturally bubbly personality is on the rise. What's left is nagging doubt that can't compete with my natural inclination to be happy.

I'm determined to be happy. Happy is the choice I'm making. Even when I was depressed and confused and griefstricken, I chose to think positive. Otherwise it would've been a whole lot worse.

I'm choosing to let go of my grief. I'm choosing to be part of the world again. I'm choosing to go forth and sing. And I'm happy about my choices.

I've never understood why happy is abhorrent to some people. Ick. Ugh. Too fricking happy. Happy doesn't equate to dumb. It always annoys me when I'm being happy and goofy that people assume I'm dumb. My intelligence is something I've always had confidence in. I'm a smart cookie. Optimism is GOOD! Negativitity is the enemy. The worse you think it is, the worse it will be. Optimistic doesn't mean I don't see the world for what it is. I just think it's getting better.

Don't worry. Be Happy. Word to Bobby McFerrin.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Proud of my Gays

I have a lot of gay, bisexual, and transgender people in my life. Mostly, because I take them as they are. I even extremely briefly dated a guy who later got the chop. Who cares?

Why do we care what happens in the bedroom? You love who you love.  Love is not a bad thing. Kind of the opposite in fact. I wish there was more of it.

The main opponents of gayness tend to be religious. There are an extraordinary amount of rules and regs lined out in the bible. But where it mentions homosexuality is in the Old Testament. When Jesus came he made a new covenant with the church. The only commandment we have to follow is his. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Gaybashing isn't loving. He also told us not to judge. He who is without sin should cast the first stone.

Jesus hung out with the worst of the worst and he never judged them. He took them as they were and tried to show them through example and story how to live.

If Jesus is your excuse for hate, then you missed the whole point.

I love my gays. The have courage to be themselves and risk judgement. They stand up for what they believe in. And they love musicals like me :)

Tuesday, March 20, 2012


I know. I know. I've been slacking on the blogging. Drama and fun have kept me from it. So let me write about something simple and fun.

Horror movies. Love them or hate them. They're here to stay. As you may guess, my favorites are the ones based on a true story. Since I've had my own paranormal experiences, I tend to be blah on the ones that aren't. I tend to like older ones since they're more about the story than the visual effects.

Quick cuts and swipes bug out my eyes and I don't enjoy them. Special effects are amazing nowadays but I want to get a good look at them not just a random screaming creepy face that disappears in a second.

My favorites are definitely horror comedies. I adore Shaun of the Dead.(I'm reading Simon Pegg's autobiography now.Worth a read.) I can't get enough Bruce Campbell in whatever goofy horror movie he's playing in. The blood and gore don't faze me in the slightest. Maybe the reason I like the horror comedies so much is because it reminds us there is always something funny, even when getting chased by zombies.

I am easily startled but not easily scared.  I'll jump but not scream. Nightmare on Elm Street, I watched as a kid while living on Elm St. The movie has fun but not scary to me. The only part that creeped me out was the kids singing while jumping rope at the end. (1,2 Freddie's coming for you, 3,4 better lock your door...)

Psychological thrillers I tend to steer clear of. I cannot make myself sit through Silence of The Lambs. I'm not sure what it is but on 3 separate occasions, I've gotten fifteen minutes in and got up and walked out of the room.

I don't enjoy being scared and I'm not sure why others do. For instance, I was in Salem, MA during Halloween with my friend Jenn McClendon. We went to a few different haunted houses, the kind where people jump out at you. I laughed my way through them while Jenn left fingernail marks all up and down my arms. And going to them was her idea.

I prefer the originals to the remakes most of the time. Amityville is a good one to compare new and old. The old one has more story and better slow buildup. The new one is full of quick cuts and half seen monsters that were nowhere to be found in the original.

What's your favorite horror flick?

Friday, March 16, 2012

My Boss Lady

The owners of my company are a married couple. Good people with a big vision for the company. The boss lady is from Colombia. She's energetic and goofy at times. It's weird working at a job where the boss says "I love you my Kris!" every time she leaves for the day.

Kris? I hear you ask. I know. Only direct family calls me Kris. But it sounds so cute with her accent. The way she says it sounds like Crease. I can't get mad about it.

So today she asks "My Kris, do you have guns?"
"Guns?" I asked
"Yeah. Guns for chewing?"
Pause. The light dawns.
"Yep. I've got some gum in my purse. I'll grab you a piece."

This is an everyday occurence. Makes me smile every time.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012


I don't know if it's because work has been busy or because of the diet or because of stress. Or possibly all three. But I am tired. I never get to bed on time anymore. I never sleep well while I'm in bed.

I am tired. Exhausted. I may go to bed at 8 pm tonight just to try to catch up on some zzzzzzzzzzzs.

Might have to start up with the melatonin to help me drift off.

I'm starting with cold symptoms cause I'm so worn out. Need to get this kicked and with a quickness.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Written on my 25th Birthday

Once upon a time...
Now that's a classic start. Who can come up with something new when all the perfect phrases have already been used? 25 years old makes something an antique. I'm an antique.  So a quarter century after I'm dead something I do may be a classic. Motivation is what I need. Forget Boy meets girl. Maybe I'll try Boy meets emu. One day I'll be a triumph at something. Just trying to figure out the when and where.

My Temper and why I don't lose it

I've only lost my temper twice. That was twice too many times. I've been angry sure. I've yelled a bit. I argue a bit. But not to an extreme.

The first time I was in junior high. My brother and his buddy decided it would be fun to go into my room and tear down all the posters from my walls. I walked in to my room and saw the posters ripped to shreds on the floor. The boys took off before I could see them. I took a walk around the block just trying to calm myself down. It didn't work.

I came back in the house through the garage and saw the boys in the basement. I grabbed the nearest thing to me, my yellow plastic hockey stick and started hitting. I don't even think I even said anything before I started swinging. My brother was behind his buddy. His buddy was three years older than me and on the wrestling and football team at high school. Also taller than me by at least half a foot. I remember him laughing at me trying to hit him in the head and at that point, the rage took completely over. When I came back to my senses, his hands were bleeding down his arms from protecting his face. I was so shaken at my own violence, I threw down the hockey stick and walked away. I couldn't trust myself not to pick it back up.

The boys got in trouble as did I.  I believe the boys got it a little worse than I did but I don't remember for sure.

I hated that I did it. I hated that I totally lost control. In that moment the only thing I could think about was hurting them. I just wanted blood. That's not me.

It was years later when I was 18 that I lost my temper again. I had my new car that I was paying for and was mine alone. My little Geo Metro stick shift. I miss that car. My brother was home from college for the summer and since he had totaled the Tempo he took down with him, he depended on rides from me and the parents. I was a little annoyed that I had to go out of my way almost every day to take him to work and back but he threw me gas money. And it made it less of a burden on the folks.

He was working with my friend Jen at the coffee shop and asked me to borrow the car to get to work. He wasn't great at driving a stick and I always warned him not to park in this one section of the lot since he could roll into the guardrail if he wasn't careful.  This was my car and I didn't want my insurance to go up.

He asked to borrow the car for the next day and I said no. I would take him in, I had things to do that day. When I woke up, he was gone and so was my car. I immediately called him at work and lost my mind on him. Did he know I could have his ass in jail for stealing my car? Why didn't he wake me up? I told him I needed MY car not his car not the family's car to run errands. How dare he just take my car. I told him he better leave work and come bring it back to me. He said he couldn't leave work it was busy and no one could cover. I told him it would be a cold day in hell before I let him in my car again.

I called my friend and had her drive me over to his work. I had calmed down a good bit by then and my friend Jen was working. He handed over the keys and apologized saying he couldn't wake me up and didn't want to be late for work. I just gave him a death look and talked to Jen. Jen and I started goofing around in the back room and spritzed each other with the sink hose. Then since I was laughing and joking, Bob thought it would be cool to join in the fun and he tried to squirt me. I lost my temper. Grabbed the first thing handy which was a broom and started hitting him while screaming loud enough that the whole block could hear me. I called him every name I could think of and repeated that he was lucky I didn't throw his butt in jail for car theft. I told him where to go and how to get there.

Jen was standing in the doorway just openmouthed and staring. I told Bob good luck on finding a ride home and walked out. I went to my car. He had rolled it forward into the guardrail and torn off the front license plate. I stopped myself from going back down and kicking his butt some more.

I calmly informed my parents that he wasn't getting in my car ever again. He could find his own way around and showed them the damage. My mom and dad tried to reason with me saying it was so much easier for me to drive him to work than it was for them. I told them I didn't care. He had no respect for my property and I was his sister not a chauffeur. He lost his privilege to use my car ever again. It wasn't my problem how he got to work. I got there in my car that I paid for. He didn't set foot in my car for the rest of the summer.

I haven't truly lost my temper since. I'm scared to. That doesn't mean I don't get angry but I don't get physical about it. I walk away rather than throwing down. Because next time I may not be able to stop.

Sunday, March 11, 2012


Back when my brother and I were attending high school together, we would walk to the bus stop. On this particular morning I was thinking about the duck billed platypus.

So the duck billed platypus is a mammal with a duck bill. And there used to be a duck billed dinosaur so reptiles are covered. Then I drew a blank.

I turned to my brother and asked him "Is there any such thing as a bird with a duck bill?"

He stopped dead and stared at me.

"What?"I said.

He threw his hands in the air and said "It's a DUCK!"

"Oh yeah! Forgot about them." I said as I walked on.

My brother couldn't stop laughing. He told the parents who also found it hilarious. And now it's become a running joke.

Whenever I say something stupid, my family quacks at me. My aunt even has her cell phone set so it quacks when I call her.

Another quick story of a time I was a moron. My brother is a comic book guy. He was reading one I hadn't seen before. The Punisher.

 I asked him "What does The Punisher do?"

"He breaks people's spines."he replied.

"That can cause paralysis." I said.

"Yes it can. But usually just death." he laughed at me.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Cheese is the Devil

Cheese is wonderful. It comes in thousands of varieties and I've yet to meet a kind I hate. My favorites run from Brie, a soft spreadable cheese, to a hard irish cheddar. I love mild cheeses, sharp cheeses, hard cheese and soft cheese. I even love artificial cheese product.

Cheese hates me. Lactose intolerance and a love for good cheese or really any cheese is a bad combination. And a remarkably stinky one. If I have more than a slice of cheese in a day, I feel it.

I should avoid cheese entirely. It's a dairy product addiction. I know it'll hurt but I just want a little more of the port wine cheese spread. I may have to run for the bathroom later but I must have the Saganaki now. Saganaki is a cheese put in brandy and lit on fire. It's Greek and delicious and the staff yell Opa! when it's set on fire.

Cheese is the devil. It tempts me into eating just a little more every time. The tempation of cheese is one I will bear for eternity.

Don't even get me started on ice cream.


I love the wind. Windy days are my favorite days. It makes me want to fly kites or just stand with arms outstretched feeling it blow around me.

Harkness Park on a windy day is my idea of a perfect time. The wind whipping my hair around. Watching the tree tops sway. Watching leaves cavorting through the air.

Sea and air equals peace. At least to me. It gives me the feeling that all the bad stuff is being blown away from me. Sitting on a rock by the water. Watching the waves and feeling the breeze.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Nature balances me. Strong storms rampaging are exciting and wonderful. Dancing in a rainstorm is fantastic.

As our lives become more enclosed. (Work inside. Home inside.) We lose touch with nature. We don't notice the flowers and the colors of the leaves changing. We don't see the field mice or rabbits scurrying through the fields. We forget the beauty of watching a cornfield dance on a windy day. We forget to appreciate the creation we live on. We forget to appreciate God.

I'm going to try to live life more outside the four walls I'm usually surrounded by. I'm going to dig my toes in the sand or the grass. I'm going to take time to smell the wildflowers. I'm going to appreciate the wild wonders of nature.

Breaking Up is Hard To Do

So I just got dumped. But I'm not heartbroken. And I'm not angry. Well, maybe a little angry but that's directed at myself.

It took me a long time to start thinking about a future with someone new and as soon as I begin to trust it..... Blammo! No more future.

So I'll admit that I cried a little. Mostly cause I feel stupid for trusting in something that definitely had the odds against it lasting. And a bit for the might have beens. But I'm not crying for that what it actually was.

And I have already come to terms with a few things about myself because of it. The first is that I'm not cut out for a booty call situation. Screw that. You can take all of me or you don't get any. The second is that if it's not meant to be don't push it, just move on.

I've always known it's a bad idea just to stick because it's comfortable. But I definitely needing reminding.

I really don't hate him. Or even dislike him. He's a good guy with a good heart who just didn't see a future with me. He was straightforward and honest and I really truly believed him when he said he didn't want to hurt me.

It's also, at least for a long while, the end of a friendship. And that always sucks. I'll miss him. And I'll miss his family too. We had good times.

And so begins the single life again. Time to go out and have fun and experience new things. Maybe along the way, I'll meet someone new. Maybe not. I'm happy enough to just be me.

Thursday, March 8, 2012


No rant or story today. I started a diet and all I can think about is food and how  much I want carbs. Lots  of carbs. I want mashed potatoes on bread. with cheese and bacon.

Um where was I? Oh yeah. My brain should return tomorrow. Hopefully.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012


Every day I see an example of someone trying to get one over on the system. The latest was an article about a lady still collecting food stamps after she hit the lotto. What kind of ethics do we have nowadays? As long as you can not get caught is not good enough.

Whether it's accidentally getting too much change back or finding a bank error in your favor, it's not worth it. Forget getting caught. It's about tarnishing your soul bit by bit day by day.

When you "outsmart" someone out of what's not rightfully yours, it's wrong. Nickels then dimes then dollars. I want to make an honest living.

Honest. I wonder if it has the same root word as honor? I'll have to look that up.

I try to be honest with my friends, with my family, with my work. Little white lies creep in now and then. And I am ashamed of them.

I've been told I'm too honest. But honestly, I think that's code for tactless. I don't want to tell the white lies because then I'll be more comfortable telling the big ones.

Scarily enough, I lie very well. Since I lie so rarely, it's generally accepted as truth. I'm less likely to be called out on it.

The only person I'm comfortable lying to is myself. But we all do that in our small ways.

So ask your questions and I'll tell you the truth. But be careful you can take it.

Oranges are Evil

Ok, y'all. Ready for a rant?
Too bad if you aren't.

I hate oranges. The smell of them turns my stomach. I have to fight the urge to vomit when I'm near them.

Yes, I am fully aware of the irony of living in Florida.

So why when I make it so incredibly clear to all who know me that I hate them with a passion do people insist on eating them right next to me? It's just flat out rude.

I got a custom license plate just so I wouldn't advertise oranges. Mine goes to support hospice.

Then I have people who claim but it's not an orange, it's a mandarin.

Mandarin oranges are in fact ORANGES!!!! Tangelos and tangerines are included in the nasty evilness of being oranges.

I have a car rule that no oranges or orange juice will ever be transported in my vehicle.
If it spills or splits I'd throw up while driving.

Do NOT eat an orange around me. Do NOT ask me to pick you up orange juice. Do NOT tell me I'll get scurvy or a vitamin C deficeincy.

Pulpy nasty fuit of the devil.

Thank you for your time.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Missing Tom

Dear Tom,
 I miss you. Someone asked about you the other day and I had to tell them what happened. I can't go see you. I just can't do it. I keep meaning to and then something comes up. I need someone to stand by my side and let me weep, I keep imagining what your gravestone looks like. I'm hoping it's plain and straightforward. You always were with me. I think I met your granddaughter. She's nice. Will you watch me sometimes? Tell me if I'm getting out of line. Your going ripped a piece of my heart away. I'm still looking for a way to staunch the flow. I missed your funeral. I was sick to my stomach. I feel nauseous when I think of visiting. Do you know how important you are to me? My eyes hurt with tears unshed.
(A letter written to a dead friend just after his death)(and before he came to say goodbye see previous blog  Consolation by the Spirit)

Monday, March 5, 2012

Journal - Karaoke

Another night. Karoake is where I'm found most every weekend. Sometimes you reach a point when you've already sung all the songs you want to sing. Smile lightly at the applause and take your seat wishing you had a happier song to sing. You smile at people you'd rather punch in the head. But instead you smile politely and mutter "Bitch." under your breath. Take another drink and calm yourself down for soon it'll be time to share your voice again. People around you laugh and joke and drink and smoke their troubles away.

Eat drink and be merry for when you sober up that same old shit will be there to drag you down.

It's like a helium balloon. Exposed to heat it rises and flies high until the cold air again returns to leave it a withered sack.

People tap their feet to the beat and clap along for the start of the song and slowly the applause peters out as people get lost in conversations and the mundane nuisances of life.

Journal Entry - Karoake/what do I want to do with my life

I sit in a bar alone but surrounded by people I know. People are laughing, showing off pictures of loved ones and drinking away various sorrows. I get up and sing my song curtseying automatically at the end of it. Not caring if applause comes or not. Faking a smile fore the happy crowd.

I go back to my table and take another swig of my drink. Maybe that will give me a real smile.
I light up a cigarette and just watch the people. My mother walks in. Within minutes, she asks me what I'm going to do with my life. I shrug her off with an "I don't know" and a promise to go back to school. Find a career.

A career. I don't care what I do. I don't mind physical work. You sweat, you bleed, and you go to bed blissfully tired at the end of every day. Too tired to worry. But I love mentally challenging jobs too. Find the answer, find new ways, better ideas. Out with the old, in with the new. I enjoy helping people. Notwithstanding my mood tonight. I talk, I chat, I inquire, I help, I give advice, I take advice and I listen.

Sunday, March 4, 2012


"A man must be strong for you to respect him, but weak so you will  love him. And love makes a choice." from On a Clear Day You Can See Forever.

It seems a fair amount of my friends are Fixers. They want to fix the problems with their men. He has no money, I'll share. He has no job, that's okay, I can support us. He has no friends, I'm his friend. He has no drive, he just hasn't spent enough time around me yet. He's messed up from a past relationship, he just needs a good girl like me.

They try to supply all the wants and needs of their lover with nothing asked in return. Don't get me wrong, I firmly believe you should support your love. But he should support you in return.

You can never expect people to change. Rather you SHOULD never expect people to change. If they don't have to ,they won't. Hardship is required to learn and to grow and mature.

For example, I worked with this dumb lady. She had three teenagers in the house and not one of them had ever cooked their own meal or cleaned their own room, or done their own laundry. She was complaining she wasn't keeping up. I shut her down with a quickness. I was cooking for the family from fifth grade on. I know how to change a flat, hang a picture, cook a meal, and balance my checkbook. My parents taught me. They didn't coddle me. They realized it was their job to teach me so I could survive on my own.

I have limited patience for those who never chose to learn. I'll teach them but I'm not doing it for them. The next time it's all on them.

So it makes me crazy when some guys are taken care of and don't return the favor. That is not a partnership. They put themselves in a child's role rather than a partner role.

I don't want kids. I sure as hell don't want to date them.

Now and then, stuff happens. We all know that. Sometimes things go wrong and you have to retreat back to home with  the parents. In this economy it's understandable. But be a grown up. Find that work, save that money, make it on your own. Don't be lazy. Anything worth getting is worth working for.


Addiction is a scary thing. The only drug I'm addicted to is nicotine. But I've seen firsthand what addiction will drive people to. Some of the worst addictions I've seen are behavioral not drugs.

Everything in moderation is a good rule. But one that's hard to stick to. We long to be happy and instead of working hard and making real accomplishments we often take the easy happiness.

The quick drink at the bar to calm the day away can becomes drinking every night to erase the day or just to feel the softnening of the world around you. People drink to alleviate real physical pain, emotional pain, and the pain of boredom. They chase the bottle because it helps at least temporarily. It stops the thinking the doubting. Everything just is rather than having to do something about it. I know a lady who drank her way through not just one but two livers. She died an alcoholic and in pain. I know a man who after 20 plus years of sobriety decided he could handle a drink which led to just one more until he stumbled to his car and on the way home hit and killed a kid on a bike.

Addictions cost us. The money for the booze or pills or cigarettes. The slow buildup of poison in the body. It can cost relationships. It can even cost a life.

All for an easy fix. A quick snort. Just one more time.

Why not just walk away from it? How hard can it be? As anyone who'll admit to addiction will say, harder than they think they can stand. The brain and body become so used to the toxins they begin to need them. Any reformed smoker can tell you, the first quit doesn't usually take. We backslide into the habits even after they no longer bring us joy or even the illusion of contentment. We start up again because we just need to feel normal. We need it to get through the day. Without it there's craving and temper and withdrawal. Which depending on your drug of choice can be agonizing.

And if we succeed in quitting and get past the withdrawal and all that comes with it. Then we can transfer onto something new. We ease off one then overdo on another. Quitting drinking means you're smoking like a fiend. Finally off the heroin, here's some methadone. Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.

Someone once told me it takes three days to make a habit and seven to break it. That sounds about right. And we are creatures of habit. The vast majority of us stick to routine. Whether it's having our morning caffeine and nicotine or getting blitzed after work.

Am I saying there's no hope? Of course there's hope. It's hard work everyday. Stopping the habits as soon as you see them start. Remembering that quick fixes never truly fix anything. They just leave you more broken in the end. Support is necessary. We are fallible. We need help. Asking for it can be the hardest thing to do.

Take it minute by minute then hour by hour then day by day. Each minute counts. I'm truly proud of my friends who have managed to save themselves from their addictions. It's a hard hard task and I honor them for it.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

My fascination with Hugh Laurie

Most of America knows Hugh Laurie as the acerbic sarcastic and injured Dr. Gregory House on House.
He rocks the part. Always bringing heart and humor however dark to every episode. House could easily be written off as just a jackass. But darling Hugh makes him lovable.

I've been a fan of Hugh's since I was a teen. I used to watch him playing the addled prince on Blackadder with Rowan Atkinson. A randy drunken dimwit who couldn't do anything not even put on his pants by himself. It was a role that called for blatant goofiness and Hugh filled it. Tall and gangly he wobbled thrugh his days held up by the dastardly yet oh so entertaining Rowan.

In a later season of Blackadder, his role was that of a gung ho soldier on the front lines of WW2 with not enough brain to fill a thinble. He was the moral compass of the group. Definitely a company man.

He made me giggle and laugh and even occasionally guffaw. Then I saw him in Jeeves and Wooster.

P.G. Wodehouse wrote the books the series was based on They stayed true to the spirit of Wodehouse.Silliness and antics and nothing more devasting than a broken engagement. And there were lots of engagements. It was the language that I loved. Jeeves in his livery when asked"Who's at the door?" would reply "I shall endeavor to ascertain, sir." It sounds so much better than I'll go see.

Hugh in his role as Betrum Wooster, a man of neglible intelligence would wander through life with Jeeeves the stalwart and ingenious manservant by his side.

So when he showed up on American TV playing a sharp as a tack mean spirited doctor, I was shocked. Then I fell in love all over again. I love his skills as an actor and as a musician. His singing voice needs some work but is still vastly entertaining.

Alas, he's married with kids, and I'll probably never meet him. But if I did, I would have to thank him for the laughs and the tears. Well played, sir, well played.


I grew up going to museums of all sorts. Art museums, science museums, natural history museums. The only one that left me cold was the Space and Aeronautics museum. I just don't appreciate technology as much as people and their history and art. I leave the technofilia to my Dad and brother.

I just want the technology to work but have no interest on how it does. Like cars, my favorite car I ever had was my Geo Metro. I'd rather drive a Smart Car than a Ferrari. I'm much less likely to get a ticket in the Smart Car.

Back to museums....

My favorite museum is The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I could wander for days in there. The Guggenheim while having amazing architecture is full of modern art. Blah to most of it. I want the renaissance section. I love portraits.

I don't get excited to see a yellow canvas with blue rectangles on it. I love texture and color and beauty in my art. I don't particularly want to be challenged by art.

The Met has a fantastic website that I wander through whenever I'm feeling culture deprived. I look at the old masters and marvel at art that has been seen by millions. I would love to visit the Louvre. Since all the french I know I learned from Beauty and the Beast. I may have a hard time of it.

Art museums treasure beauty and style and the grace of the brushstroke. Paintings are only to feed the soul. Or (blech) Modern art which challenges it. Paintings to beautiful to be destroyed hang on walls. Sculptures and statuary even when damaged still stand and are admired. It's the history of what we think is pretty.

I need to hit up a museum soon.

Where did the poems go?

The poetry has a new home at Please check it out. New and old stuff keeps getting added.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Perverted Squirrel

I was eating indian food at this really good little restaurant with my brother. Saag paneer and aloo paratha yumminess. It was a sunny and mild day so we had chosen to eat outside at a little two top. We noticed the squirrel immediately. He was fat and fast. He was also totally unafraid.

We talked about taming wild critters as we ate and that squirrels and seagulls were the worst at begging for food. Bob started tossing him little bits of naan anyway.

The squirrel kept coming closer and closer until it was right by my foot. Unsure of it's tempremant, I jumped up. This scared the squirrel. He darted for someplace to hide.

He choose my broomstick skirt.

I was yelping and jumping up and down as this squirrel ran laps around the inside of my skirt. My brother yelled at me to stand still. Which I did immediately. The squirrel dropped and ran for a phone pole and darted up it.

The little bastard was staring at me like it was my fault.

The waiter came out to check on us having heard my cries. My brother said" It was just a perverted squirrel that wanted up her skirt."

Wanting the End

I tend to write out whatever I'm feeling at the time. I came across some old entries in one of my numerous journals. Reading it shook me more than a little.

I had written these during my teenage years when I was suffering from a deep depression.

"Depression is getting worse. Almost burst into tears twice today. Reason: none. I can't stand not being able to control my emotions. I don't want them locked up in a little book, but I ... I just don't know what to do. Do you ever feel when in a crowded room no matter how many people are there laughing and talking that none of them knows anything about you? I'm a disturbed person. I need to go into therapy. Too bad my mom doesn't care. X stop strike that. I know she loves me. She just can't deal with a suicidal (at times) teen. She just says I read too much. Even when she said she'd get me help, she didn't. It just makes me feel like she doesn't give a damn. She is so convinced I wouldn't do anything against her will. She is always disappointed in me. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I'll never get it right so why even try? I don't want to die. I even have a stupid reason for that though. I don't want to make my boyfriend suffer. Sometimes, most times it would be best if I never existed at all."

It gets worse.

"I want to die. I don't want to die but I want to die. Depression does tricky things with your mind. I just want to sleep forever. Never cry again. Never hurt anymore. I've had my share. This is enough. I hate me. Why do I want to die? Realistically I have a good life. I can't control this feeling. I'm so scared I'll go through with it. Why can't I get into a car accident and just be killed? I want to end all this suffering. I can't go on like this. God, please kill me. I'm having a bad day."

" I was going to talk to my guy and tell him what I was thinking but I didn't want to upset him. He'd have been mad at me for even thinking about myself that way. I'm not worth getting upset over. All I do is cause trouble."

"I was driving around today and knew all I would have to do is turn the wheel towards a tree and it would be all over. I kept drifting toward the right and then stopping myself. I just want this to be over."

It's easy to block out the unhappiness of yesterday. It was so long ago. I was in a bad bad way for a long time. I couldn't see the light for the shadows.

I even had a plan on how I would do it. I would slice my wrists in the bathtub. It would be easier to clean up that way. I didn't feel I was worth cleaning up after.

What stopped me is a story I'll tell at a later time.

Thursday, March 1, 2012


Mostly this is four Jen.

We were working at the coffee shop and this moron was working with us. Jen being manager had told him to throw more bagels in the oven knowing it would be a busy morning. Instead of the regular dozen each flavor, he only put in 4 of each.

Jen pulled me to the side and told me about it. "Four! Can you believe it? Four!"

Four being said in an outraged tone is just funny to hear.

We started laughing.

"He must only have 4 brain cells."
"His pants are 4 inches to short."
"He has 4 strands of hair on his head."

"Four?" asked in mock outrage.
"Four!" replied in declaration.

The rest of the day every time "four" was mentioned, we'd laugh like crazy.

"Would you like 4 sugars in that coffee?"
"Oh, no! I clocked in 4 minutes late."
"I must've cleaned off that table 4 times."

Years have passed, way more than four, and we can still make each other laugh by simply saying the word.

That's why we'll be friends Four - ever.