Honestly who blogs this much? I am professionally worthless today. Why? Because I'm unhappy. Which brings me to...
79. I work out harder when I am troubled.
78. It's harder to work out when I am happy.
77. I should not drink when I am angry... because you will hear about it.
76. I should not drink when I am sad... I might cry, unless you make me laugh... Then I might cry because I miss Madigan.
75. I have grown into a person who is able to let go of people who are not good to/for me.
74. Sometimes that still hurts.
73. I haven't written besides journaling in almost a year. Instead I shove things I write on scraps or put pen to what is put on my laptop in Arc... thinking I will come back to it later.
72. I have never given my sister the book of my poetry she asked for-
because: a) it isn't finished b) it will never be finished c) because every time I open it I am tempted to change things. and I think my writing young... and though I can see the progression... I still think some of it is just too bad for another person to read.
*now she won't get it because I don't foresee a need to speak to her for a good long time*
71. I have trusted some of the wrongest people with my words.
70. I am a snob when it comes to literature and I secretly turn up my nose at people who buy books in the grocery store and only read James Patterson or romance novels. they are not real books to me.
69. I don't like people.
68. I lie. I like them in THEORY... but usually not in practice. In living color and large groups then general population are a bunch of a**holes.
67. I stopped bar tending when I came to # 69 and 68.
66. Obviously I like some people.
65. Pot roast is my favorite food. ever.
64. I can't stand blind forwards and chain emails. If you email me enough dumb sh*t I will stop reading anything you send me.
63. ***I take this one back because it involves the life of an innocent child***
62. I would still be there for her (Pretty Camel) if she needed something.
61. I want to say the same for Madigan, but I defended her bad behavior for too long. Today I have deleted her from my friend list.
60. In some ways I am like my mother.
59. Not all of them are good.
58. Christmas chocolate still makes me happy, even if I don't eat it.
56. Dream Killer lied to me about not getting grades yet. They've been posted for 2 weeks and I know how he did. But I will let him think I believe the lie.
55. I hate watching ballets with anyone who knew me when I danced. I will never be in that kind of shape again. To try would be the advent of cortisone shots. and people say dumb sh*t like "what if?"
54. I don't believe in can't. I am not a natural runner, so I am training with a sprinter. My stamina was sporadic but short over consistent spans of time... solution? circuit training. I am going to be more flexible than I am now... yoga.
53. I still don't bow in yoga.
52. I took my thimble with me on vacation because I did not want to risk the chance of someone else touching it.
that's all I got for now.
Friday, December 29, 2006
way too much blogging- 79... till I got no mo'.
Indian Giver & 80-90
The problem with giving people close to you access to your blog is that they feel entitled to an opinion. Which they are. However, they also feel entitled to expressing their opinion; which they can. Further, they feel entitled to a rejoinder to emails about what they've read. Like I really need to explain myself more than I already do.
Here we go, and I'm not doing this again- so don't ask.
Follow up... or background to insight on why Shy is dropped into the slot he is in.
Once upon a time I worked in retail. It was commission based and highly competitive. I was one of 2 females, and the boys were ruthless. I did well but I hated the hours. That was how I met Mentor. We talked about something stupid, had coffee... then consistent coffees... and somehow she became more of an older sister to me then my own. I admire and respect her greatly. She rocks like few people I have ever seen. She is what I want to be.
Intro Boogie Man. It is a shame he was psycho because his entrance was flawless. I told her about him when we met, she mentioned she knew him. He happened to stop in the coffee shop I frequented and they regarded each other. Something passed between them over my head. He sat and she left. She didn't mention it again. He totally trashed her.
Fast forward to Mr. Boogie showing his whole bum complete with break up letter stained with tears left on my car windshield (after 2 whole weeks). Mentor and I had a whole lunch surrounding the reading of the letter... there was wine involved so we read it multiple times. She then told me that he graduated from law school a little after her and they knew of each other. There was much scandal associated with his name and he'd managed to alienate almost everyone in his year... which is quite a feat. She said her interactions with him had always been strained and maybe he was wonderful but she'd never seen that side of him.
What he said of her was quite different. I told her why I'd decided he wasn't for me and asked why she'd not said anything beyond "be careful, he is a bit older, I am here for you when you need to talk". She said because she loved me like a little sister, but somethings I had to come to on my own... but she would have said something before it got really bad.
But why the pre-emptive trash talk on his end? Did you think she would say something first? Insecurity? Do you like the sound of your own voice?
Think about it, why would he feel the need to break someone down in my eyes? Everyone who knows me, knows I adore her. To take a shot when you wouldn't say it to her, says you are taking the shot at my opinion and not really her.
Move to Shy. Yesterday he calls to shoot the sh*t. He talks about various people and their indiscretions. People we have in common. Little J whom I know because her dad is creepy and hit on me. Her mom is epitome of a gracious lady and Bama I think she married Creepy as her one drunkard night ever. Little J is sweet. I don't know her well, but I will speak to anyone who speaks to me. I have no issues with her and I don't care how many guys she has boinked nor how many at a time.
So why does Shy feel the need to move through the gambit of people he has seen me speak to and air their dirty laundry? It stands to be reasoned and makes him a questionable "friend" to have. Again this is most unfortunate because I saw a lot of great stuff in him. The more I turn it over, and am honest with myself. It was not potential. He has hit the product he will be. He is whole in the sense of this is was it will be. It's not a bad thing, it just is. And the biggest reason his shooting his mouth of is a potential liability is 2 fold. 1. Mommiey says that people who gossip to you will be a gossip of you. and 2. He is adamant that it is something he does not do, and yet he does it consistently.
Over analytical ick.... Now for 81-90
80. Indian dance- Bharat Natyam & Khatak are the only forms of dance I am formally trained in. I did it but taught by people not formal teachers. My 1st formal teacher slapped my hands because I was 3 and it took me a while to get it right. I walked out because I was insulted. Partially because she was white, and I felt like she was a guest in my culture anyway.
Here we go, and I'm not doing this again- so don't ask.
Follow up... or background to insight on why Shy is dropped into the slot he is in.
Once upon a time I worked in retail. It was commission based and highly competitive. I was one of 2 females, and the boys were ruthless. I did well but I hated the hours. That was how I met Mentor. We talked about something stupid, had coffee... then consistent coffees... and somehow she became more of an older sister to me then my own. I admire and respect her greatly. She rocks like few people I have ever seen. She is what I want to be.
Intro Boogie Man. It is a shame he was psycho because his entrance was flawless. I told her about him when we met, she mentioned she knew him. He happened to stop in the coffee shop I frequented and they regarded each other. Something passed between them over my head. He sat and she left. She didn't mention it again. He totally trashed her.
Fast forward to Mr. Boogie showing his whole bum complete with break up letter stained with tears left on my car windshield (after 2 whole weeks). Mentor and I had a whole lunch surrounding the reading of the letter... there was wine involved so we read it multiple times. She then told me that he graduated from law school a little after her and they knew of each other. There was much scandal associated with his name and he'd managed to alienate almost everyone in his year... which is quite a feat. She said her interactions with him had always been strained and maybe he was wonderful but she'd never seen that side of him.
What he said of her was quite different. I told her why I'd decided he wasn't for me and asked why she'd not said anything beyond "be careful, he is a bit older, I am here for you when you need to talk". She said because she loved me like a little sister, but somethings I had to come to on my own... but she would have said something before it got really bad.
But why the pre-emptive trash talk on his end? Did you think she would say something first? Insecurity? Do you like the sound of your own voice?
Think about it, why would he feel the need to break someone down in my eyes? Everyone who knows me, knows I adore her. To take a shot when you wouldn't say it to her, says you are taking the shot at my opinion and not really her.
Move to Shy. Yesterday he calls to shoot the sh*t. He talks about various people and their indiscretions. People we have in common. Little J whom I know because her dad is creepy and hit on me. Her mom is epitome of a gracious lady and Bama I think she married Creepy as her one drunkard night ever. Little J is sweet. I don't know her well, but I will speak to anyone who speaks to me. I have no issues with her and I don't care how many guys she has boinked nor how many at a time.
So why does Shy feel the need to move through the gambit of people he has seen me speak to and air their dirty laundry? It stands to be reasoned and makes him a questionable "friend" to have. Again this is most unfortunate because I saw a lot of great stuff in him. The more I turn it over, and am honest with myself. It was not potential. He has hit the product he will be. He is whole in the sense of this is was it will be. It's not a bad thing, it just is. And the biggest reason his shooting his mouth of is a potential liability is 2 fold. 1. Mommiey says that people who gossip to you will be a gossip of you. and 2. He is adamant that it is something he does not do, and yet he does it consistently.
Over analytical ick.... Now for 81-90
80. Indian dance- Bharat Natyam & Khatak are the only forms of dance I am formally trained in. I did it but taught by people not formal teachers. My 1st formal teacher slapped my hands because I was 3 and it took me a while to get it right. I walked out because I was insulted. Partially because she was white, and I felt like she was a guest in my culture anyway.
81. I don't like fake nails. I don't like the way they feel, I don't like the way they look, I don't like them.
82. I learned the violin and the piano... and don't play either now.
83. Piano was hard for me, because I could not cover my mistakes. If I made a mistake, I stopped.
84. I can cross stitch and sew buttons but not sew for real... I tried to learn crocheting... but I don't have the patience for it.
85. Coppelia was the 1st ballet I ever saw... I cried.
86. I also cried in Swan Lake
87. La Triviata was the 1st opera I ever saw.... The girl took 1/2 an hour to die and I wanted to throw my shoe at her.
88. Cats was my (and everyone else's) 1st musical... Victoria (the all white one) is my favorite. She doesn't sing, she never speaks, but she is by far the most beautiful.
89. I love the Yankees... and A.Rod over Jeter
90. I have got to stop watching Hindi movies... the mushy sentimentality and ideal romanticism is starting to get to me.
Big post. Bye bye.
82. I learned the violin and the piano... and don't play either now.
83. Piano was hard for me, because I could not cover my mistakes. If I made a mistake, I stopped.
84. I can cross stitch and sew buttons but not sew for real... I tried to learn crocheting... but I don't have the patience for it.
85. Coppelia was the 1st ballet I ever saw... I cried.
86. I also cried in Swan Lake
87. La Triviata was the 1st opera I ever saw.... The girl took 1/2 an hour to die and I wanted to throw my shoe at her.
88. Cats was my (and everyone else's) 1st musical... Victoria (the all white one) is my favorite. She doesn't sing, she never speaks, but she is by far the most beautiful.
89. I love the Yankees... and A.Rod over Jeter
90. I have got to stop watching Hindi movies... the mushy sentimentality and ideal romanticism is starting to get to me.
Big post. Bye bye.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
91-100
100 things about me.
You've seen it, lots of people blog it. And yet, as much as we all love Kiran... even I know at 100 all at once is a bit much. So we will split them up. (Does this look like an attempt to buy time to think of more things to make me sound interesting? Maybe.)
100. I once accidently bought a car on Ebay. In Canada even. But it was a stick.
99. I can not drive a stick.
98. No one I know that drives a stick trusts me enough to teach me using their car.
97. Enough about the stick.
96. I have adored Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennet since I was in Kindergarten. During my 1st international flight my mom made me listen to music to relieve the pressure in my ears. I would listen for the lengh of one side of a tape then she would put hot damp towels in the earphones for a while. Then I got to listen to the other side. It works well for fussy children.
95. I am laughing at myself for how much I like Michael Buble.
94. I call him Bubble. Even though I know it's wrong.
93. I get really hot or really cold very fast. It is disconcerting because I think that so much about me are extremes. including my Idealism.
92. I go to sleep with socks on almost every night.
91. I wake up with no socks on almost every morning.
that was a bit less painless than expected. Stay tuned for the next installment.
You've seen it, lots of people blog it. And yet, as much as we all love Kiran... even I know at 100 all at once is a bit much. So we will split them up. (Does this look like an attempt to buy time to think of more things to make me sound interesting? Maybe.)
100. I once accidently bought a car on Ebay. In Canada even. But it was a stick.
99. I can not drive a stick.
98. No one I know that drives a stick trusts me enough to teach me using their car.
97. Enough about the stick.
96. I have adored Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennet since I was in Kindergarten. During my 1st international flight my mom made me listen to music to relieve the pressure in my ears. I would listen for the lengh of one side of a tape then she would put hot damp towels in the earphones for a while. Then I got to listen to the other side. It works well for fussy children.
95. I am laughing at myself for how much I like Michael Buble.
94. I call him Bubble. Even though I know it's wrong.
93. I get really hot or really cold very fast. It is disconcerting because I think that so much about me are extremes. including my Idealism.
92. I go to sleep with socks on almost every night.
91. I wake up with no socks on almost every morning.
that was a bit less painless than expected. Stay tuned for the next installment.
I am so alarmed at the things that amuse me.
Courtesy of ONE who knows me too well ;) biiiiiiig hugs.
Love,
La La
Love,
La La
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The Hand of Something Bigger Than Me.
Despite my situation that wrecked my world for about 3 years, and still makes me look over my shoulder... I have heard the nicest thing about myself. My few friends whom I have curled up next to have marveled at the outlook I still have on people. But sometimes I still think I am getting this wrong.
Vacation with my family ended with me being so angry at my sister I could spit. I am embarrassed and ashamed that she is related to me, and I do not respect her. This is a new state of being. I have the capacity to go from 0-60 in 2.5 flat and struggled to keep my temper in check. But I can say there was only one mini blow out and never in front of the rest of my family nor in public. I hate that I consider this an accomplishment. I kept most of my words and anger in check. But this morning before I left the house, I said my prayers and asked to be helped with not becoming an angry bitter being. To have more patience, find where I am supposed to be, and carry it with the grace of a full grown lady. Turning it over I feel very small... because I am blessed to the point that I am protected... even from myself.
At last night's ball was an older gentleman in a Tux. Not overly special, there were many. But he was a waiter. and I had met him at least a year and a half ago, and he was not so well dressed. He remembered I offered him my breakfast and kissed my cheek that I cleaned up well in a ball gown.
I know the time frame because I still had my townhouse. and I was still getting flat tires. They were many and somehow the last time, Dream Killer or I had put my hydrolic jack in his trunk and not mine. On my way to school at 7 I got yet another flat on a very busy street near my house. I am trying to figure out a manuel jack and willing myself not to cry because I was frustrated that it was so hard.
He pulled up on the shoulder and said Jesus had told him to stop. and I asked if Jesus also told him how to work my jack. He was a bit strange but I was never so happy to see anyone. He changed my tire. I was so grateful but as I don't carry cash I had nothing to give him. I offered him my breakfast which was either a muffin or a bagel and gentleman that he was, he refused. He said he had a wife and a daughter and he would hope someone would help them if they were in my position.
Today I rememer that I have to have faith in people. Because there has never been a day in my life that I did not know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am loved. Neither was there a single instance when I've been stranded on a road, interstate, or anywhere and people did not stop and offer help. Never. and that humbles even me. and I am reminded that I am supposed to be better than the anger. and we get what we give even if it is not from the place we are looking for it. The luck I have says I don't need to gamble.
Vacation with my family ended with me being so angry at my sister I could spit. I am embarrassed and ashamed that she is related to me, and I do not respect her. This is a new state of being. I have the capacity to go from 0-60 in 2.5 flat and struggled to keep my temper in check. But I can say there was only one mini blow out and never in front of the rest of my family nor in public. I hate that I consider this an accomplishment. I kept most of my words and anger in check. But this morning before I left the house, I said my prayers and asked to be helped with not becoming an angry bitter being. To have more patience, find where I am supposed to be, and carry it with the grace of a full grown lady. Turning it over I feel very small... because I am blessed to the point that I am protected... even from myself.
At last night's ball was an older gentleman in a Tux. Not overly special, there were many. But he was a waiter. and I had met him at least a year and a half ago, and he was not so well dressed. He remembered I offered him my breakfast and kissed my cheek that I cleaned up well in a ball gown.
I know the time frame because I still had my townhouse. and I was still getting flat tires. They were many and somehow the last time, Dream Killer or I had put my hydrolic jack in his trunk and not mine. On my way to school at 7 I got yet another flat on a very busy street near my house. I am trying to figure out a manuel jack and willing myself not to cry because I was frustrated that it was so hard.
He pulled up on the shoulder and said Jesus had told him to stop. and I asked if Jesus also told him how to work my jack. He was a bit strange but I was never so happy to see anyone. He changed my tire. I was so grateful but as I don't carry cash I had nothing to give him. I offered him my breakfast which was either a muffin or a bagel and gentleman that he was, he refused. He said he had a wife and a daughter and he would hope someone would help them if they were in my position.
Today I rememer that I have to have faith in people. Because there has never been a day in my life that I did not know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am loved. Neither was there a single instance when I've been stranded on a road, interstate, or anywhere and people did not stop and offer help. Never. and that humbles even me. and I am reminded that I am supposed to be better than the anger. and we get what we give even if it is not from the place we are looking for it. The luck I have says I don't need to gamble.
Catch up blog- part III. "That is the 1st lie you have ever told me"
Apparently today is the day of blogging. Perhaps there will be a movement to have it be a whole Holiday.
As the 1st post of the day was courtesy of Shy so is this one... and while he says it; today it also applies to him.
Let me preface this by saying that I am not going to address this with him. I hope the people closest to me would be as wonderful as I imagine they are... and with all people you give them the benefit of the doubt and enough rope to hang themselves. I don't like that he felt the need to lie to me, it is a stupid thing that he lied about, but his stock is effectively worthless. We will play nice because he has the connections that I need, but we manage the risk he has potential to present a little differently.
If you've read older posts you will remember that we sorted out a pseudo-crush on trainer... The only people I told (that are in my city- those not here are privy to info via blog on everything that you cannot smack me with :) were Bat-Girl and Bunkles... Darling Ricky butted into a conversation and felt the need to weigh in. It was quickly sorted out, and that was a wrap. Now we have Lemon crushes.
Fast forward to Shy feels the need to bring me gossip about Daydream's extra-curricular activities. I remain unaffected. He brings it to David's Bunny. She and I are hella cool. He says that Daydream is trying to date her... then he is dating her. I didn't and have never asked. Not her, not him, not Shy. Perhaps I am too self-absorbed to be concerned with what does not concern me.
The problem that Shy did not foresee is that, again, David's Bunny and I are hella cool. I know her through David the Magnificent Weirdo... and while he speaks superficially, I've known her longer and better, and we have far more people in common. It is a matter of time that she and David are no longer speaking... please see the aforementioned "He is a weirdo". So Daydream missed a couple of days at the gym and his cult female following had a sh*t fit. They asked Bunny and I what happened, etc. etc. and we look at each other like "How would we know?" I follow him around at the gym... yes he trains me for free... I'm not trying to be any one's notch. The answer we got was because he calls me Beautiful and will say it in front of anyone. Bunny because she is awesomely (sp?) attractive.
So she calls me later to laugh about the fact that everyone is under the impression that they are sleeping together and she has never talked to him. Know where that came from? That's right, out of the mouth of Shy. How do I know that it was not Daydream? To be fair, I don't. But to lie would mean that Bunny would never speak to him for the stigma attached to him. I assume he knows this, but I certainly would not be the one to tell him.
But Shy talks. a lot. Initially, he stressed how much he kept my name out of his mouth when talking with other people. If people ask, his standard answer was they should ask me. That has changed. He is now my biggest cheerleader. But I wonder at what cost and how to define the slot we are to drop him into.
On to the reason we are posting this NOW. Bunny calls to see how vacation was, to tell me about a fantastic party I missed, that she saw David at said party, and to ask about last night's ball. She was messed up about the Weirdo for a minute... as we talk (I tried to make her go to the bloody ball... but Nugget said I was not allowed to arrange dates for his brothers) she mentions she thinks one of Nugget's brother's is cute but the Weirdo grew up with them and may present problems. I am the solution.
The Weirdo and I do not cut words with each other. It was uncomfortable at 1st but has grown into a mutual respect. Weirdo never put it out there... dating any one he knows cannot be construed as disrespectful. If he had icky feelings he had a long a** time to say something. Nugget's brother will entertain anyone I ask him to... at least for an evening. He knows her... Bunny asks me to feel him out for her.
Summation.... no daydream for Bunny. Not past, not present. Who knows what the future holds... but that translates into Shy talking sh*t that he didn't know... which he swears he does not do. and that is unfortunate.
As the 1st post of the day was courtesy of Shy so is this one... and while he says it; today it also applies to him.
Let me preface this by saying that I am not going to address this with him. I hope the people closest to me would be as wonderful as I imagine they are... and with all people you give them the benefit of the doubt and enough rope to hang themselves. I don't like that he felt the need to lie to me, it is a stupid thing that he lied about, but his stock is effectively worthless. We will play nice because he has the connections that I need, but we manage the risk he has potential to present a little differently.
If you've read older posts you will remember that we sorted out a pseudo-crush on trainer... The only people I told (that are in my city- those not here are privy to info via blog on everything that you cannot smack me with :) were Bat-Girl and Bunkles... Darling Ricky butted into a conversation and felt the need to weigh in. It was quickly sorted out, and that was a wrap. Now we have Lemon crushes.
Fast forward to Shy feels the need to bring me gossip about Daydream's extra-curricular activities. I remain unaffected. He brings it to David's Bunny. She and I are hella cool. He says that Daydream is trying to date her... then he is dating her. I didn't and have never asked. Not her, not him, not Shy. Perhaps I am too self-absorbed to be concerned with what does not concern me.
The problem that Shy did not foresee is that, again, David's Bunny and I are hella cool. I know her through David the Magnificent Weirdo... and while he speaks superficially, I've known her longer and better, and we have far more people in common. It is a matter of time that she and David are no longer speaking... please see the aforementioned "He is a weirdo". So Daydream missed a couple of days at the gym and his cult female following had a sh*t fit. They asked Bunny and I what happened, etc. etc. and we look at each other like "How would we know?" I follow him around at the gym... yes he trains me for free... I'm not trying to be any one's notch. The answer we got was because he calls me Beautiful and will say it in front of anyone. Bunny because she is awesomely (sp?) attractive.
So she calls me later to laugh about the fact that everyone is under the impression that they are sleeping together and she has never talked to him. Know where that came from? That's right, out of the mouth of Shy. How do I know that it was not Daydream? To be fair, I don't. But to lie would mean that Bunny would never speak to him for the stigma attached to him. I assume he knows this, but I certainly would not be the one to tell him.
But Shy talks. a lot. Initially, he stressed how much he kept my name out of his mouth when talking with other people. If people ask, his standard answer was they should ask me. That has changed. He is now my biggest cheerleader. But I wonder at what cost and how to define the slot we are to drop him into.
On to the reason we are posting this NOW. Bunny calls to see how vacation was, to tell me about a fantastic party I missed, that she saw David at said party, and to ask about last night's ball. She was messed up about the Weirdo for a minute... as we talk (I tried to make her go to the bloody ball... but Nugget said I was not allowed to arrange dates for his brothers) she mentions she thinks one of Nugget's brother's is cute but the Weirdo grew up with them and may present problems. I am the solution.
The Weirdo and I do not cut words with each other. It was uncomfortable at 1st but has grown into a mutual respect. Weirdo never put it out there... dating any one he knows cannot be construed as disrespectful. If he had icky feelings he had a long a** time to say something. Nugget's brother will entertain anyone I ask him to... at least for an evening. He knows her... Bunny asks me to feel him out for her.
Summation.... no daydream for Bunny. Not past, not present. Who knows what the future holds... but that translates into Shy talking sh*t that he didn't know... which he swears he does not do. and that is unfortunate.
Zidane was framed!
This goes up because 1.) Zidane is still incredibly hot... and 2.) I love it. Not just the commercial but the idea of it. I should like to do that in my goofy city. Dump soccer balls out my window... and not just to peg the contruction workers... but to watch grown people play; in suits nonetheless.
"You know most writers are a**holes, right?"
The quote is courtesy of Shy. It is quite old but it is today's 1st entry because it makes me laugh.
One of my absolute favourite writers (apparently I am left over English from last night- but that is to be a later post) is the magical, mystical, mythically proportionate (get it? of mythic proportions... it was supposed to be clever. whatever) is Michael Ondaatje. Our affair began with Anil's Ghost... and it was the first time I saw something close to my experience put to page.
Later it was The English patient... which I've never finished because I lost it... but I did not want the replacement book with the movie poster as a cover. I think it trite and not a fitting representation of the beauty the book holds. To date I remember the shivers I got from Handwriting. Reading it made my own poetry grow in a way I could not have ever come to by myself. Poetry sounded different in his words beyond the classical Yeats and Byron... it seemed a more natural way of speaking... he writes in such a way that lulls you into following him blindly... and stuns you with his last words. You don't understand the point until it is made... and though you have had all of the pieces all along... you feel like a child that has been shown the most wonderful magic trick with your own toys.
Save the English Patient, I have (and hoard) everything that has his name attached to it... including the awful book that critiques his major writings and seeks to explain his themes. But I had to read that to.
The most recent acquisition of his is "Our Story"... the illustrated version that was done has an offering from which the proceeds support literacy in Canada. When the package came I guarded it like my first born. Mom was laughing at me over breakfast one Saturday... and I am reminded that she loves me like a mother does, as the words that came out of her mouth were... "If you like him so much, you know he taught or teaches at the University of Toronto... why don't we take a trip (we have family there) and you can meet him and tell him how much you admire him? or try a semester in Toronto, take stupid classes that interest you."
Ummm... no.
1. I will sound like a groupie (not completely opposed to)
2. I may not make the best impression and possibly sound like an idiot (not a completely foreign state of being for this girl)
3. He may not be so impressive in person... which he should have the freedom not to be.
The reason books are better than movies... and certainly more intense is that it is where the world is wrapped in some one's words but still of our own conceptions. Someone once told me that you don't know what your work is or has the potential to do until you hear it explained to you by someone else. I understand that.
I know the place I write from. I know what brings me to certain points. While I may not give you the same words verbatim... I can create the same concept. I know what I meant. But it is so selfish to expect to be taken at your own perception. The re-write from my end is the endless re-play of trying to figure out how I meant something to sound. I have written things that I didn't know how to deal with and I think I would be too devastated to know that Mr. Ondaatje's points of emphasis were not the bits that I carry with me. I would be to insulted to think that maybe I got it wrong. Like people who write of love so well... but only because they covet and watch it pressed against the glass... not because they know how to give of themselves with another person. In print we are all heros.
Further, how tragic to be seen as simpering... especially to one of the keepers of the most beautiful words... so today like other days, I wait at his feet for the next offerings he will give me.. and even that is too much.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Rare form.
I should not be blogging... I should be working... I will get back to being on desk arrest in a minute... in the meantime something bears being conveyed. This is honestly too great.
So we have established that sometimes certain people should just not talk. I mean no sign language, nothing. They should be banned from communicating with other beings. To illustrate my point... the always entertaining Dream Killer.
Mr. track and field athlete who still has a gi-normous framed poster of himself at Penn Relays ran in college and has not worked out save the few times he has tagged along with me to the lakes or the one time he tried my Yoga class. I don't why he feels the need to shoot his mouth off, but he does. He finished finals on Friday and was sick over the weekend, so Monday was the 1st minute he suddenly had nothing to do. Monday I had to tell him that I need him to get a hobby... because if he calls me one more time I'm going to kill him. He thought I was joking... he does not know that I have a culling song. again, I digress.
So he asked if I was going to the gym after work and of course I ask if he has met me. He mouths off about how I work out like a girl and whatever I do would be like a warm-up or a cool down to him. I say, "really? come with it." so he does.
I kid you not... 10 minutes maybe. One round of circuit training and he gave it up to a bush (meaning he got sick). Nice. So you (like I) are probably thinking he has learned his lesson, I do not need to rub it in from now on he will behave himself. No, no that is not what happened. In the car as I am dropping him off he says "If you kept your head up you could breath better when you are running, you wouldn't get so winded and you could probably run faster."
I give him an EDS. he says "WHAT?! I'm a runner, you know I watch form."
No khuti you WERE a runner, now you are irritating and never going to gym with me ever again.
But none of that says why I had to tell you all about it NOW... Because I just got a text message that says his legs are SOOOOOOOOO sore. and wow. but really? and again he just should not speak.
So we have established that sometimes certain people should just not talk. I mean no sign language, nothing. They should be banned from communicating with other beings. To illustrate my point... the always entertaining Dream Killer.
Mr. track and field athlete who still has a gi-normous framed poster of himself at Penn Relays ran in college and has not worked out save the few times he has tagged along with me to the lakes or the one time he tried my Yoga class. I don't why he feels the need to shoot his mouth off, but he does. He finished finals on Friday and was sick over the weekend, so Monday was the 1st minute he suddenly had nothing to do. Monday I had to tell him that I need him to get a hobby... because if he calls me one more time I'm going to kill him. He thought I was joking... he does not know that I have a culling song. again, I digress.
So he asked if I was going to the gym after work and of course I ask if he has met me. He mouths off about how I work out like a girl and whatever I do would be like a warm-up or a cool down to him. I say, "really? come with it." so he does.
I kid you not... 10 minutes maybe. One round of circuit training and he gave it up to a bush (meaning he got sick). Nice. So you (like I) are probably thinking he has learned his lesson, I do not need to rub it in from now on he will behave himself. No, no that is not what happened. In the car as I am dropping him off he says "If you kept your head up you could breath better when you are running, you wouldn't get so winded and you could probably run faster."
I give him an EDS. he says "WHAT?! I'm a runner, you know I watch form."
No khuti you WERE a runner, now you are irritating and never going to gym with me ever again.
But none of that says why I had to tell you all about it NOW... Because I just got a text message that says his legs are SOOOOOOOOO sore. and wow. but really? and again he just should not speak.
Monday, December 18, 2006
$10 says this gets worse before it gets better.
A truth that I have long recognized in myself is that I grieve for other people's hurt. How poignant it is that just last week Bianca and I were talking about the Indian girl in my building- I think she is precious... and Bianca scowled and stopped me mid-sentence to say "You cannot save her." to which I say, "I know, but..." and Bianca repeated it again. And while I know she is right, I still want Priya to stand up for herself... and I want to give her the tools to succeed in her world... and I am humbled that she looks at me as this larger than life creature when I know the dork that I am. B tells me that I cannot save every puppy, and I know that... but that doesn't mean we don't try...
Case in point... Ms. Bianca. Follow up from former post... she calls me and asks what Bunkles said about her... and I am confused. I don't remember a recent conversation with him about her... he just got back from NY and all we talked about was NY and the laundry girl... She says "You know I am in a bad place... I just need to hear it, so I asked him if he thought I was pretty and he says I should ask you. He won't talk to me."
And good job to Bunkles for thinking with the right head. The answer she got was just what he says "the butt, the walk, he thinks you are ridiculously hot and beautiful etc. etc." Again, it was honest and it was better for Bunkles not to say it- as he is trying to be in a fair relationship and good to the laundry girl... but bad for Bianca to ask... she knows all about his reputation and the phenomenon among women that he apparently is. And if the eyes are the window to the soul, I want to close mine to the potential that Bianca's new-found insecurity has. Because I don't know how to make her stop the slide or transition as it were to a bit of a... how shall we say... ok well damn... a bitch in heat.
Which is terrible because I don't want to judge her. I have done things that don't look so good on paper... but I don't regret it... and I guess I don't know it to be any different. except that it wouldn't be just anybody, and not for a validation. or maybe just not this time.
wow. Bianca head-ache part II.
Case in point... Ms. Bianca. Follow up from former post... she calls me and asks what Bunkles said about her... and I am confused. I don't remember a recent conversation with him about her... he just got back from NY and all we talked about was NY and the laundry girl... She says "You know I am in a bad place... I just need to hear it, so I asked him if he thought I was pretty and he says I should ask you. He won't talk to me."
And good job to Bunkles for thinking with the right head. The answer she got was just what he says "the butt, the walk, he thinks you are ridiculously hot and beautiful etc. etc." Again, it was honest and it was better for Bunkles not to say it- as he is trying to be in a fair relationship and good to the laundry girl... but bad for Bianca to ask... she knows all about his reputation and the phenomenon among women that he apparently is. And if the eyes are the window to the soul, I want to close mine to the potential that Bianca's new-found insecurity has. Because I don't know how to make her stop the slide or transition as it were to a bit of a... how shall we say... ok well damn... a bitch in heat.
Which is terrible because I don't want to judge her. I have done things that don't look so good on paper... but I don't regret it... and I guess I don't know it to be any different. except that it wouldn't be just anybody, and not for a validation. or maybe just not this time.
wow. Bianca head-ache part II.
... in transit.
Something is changing. Actually lots of things are changing. This is scary because it feels like something you (or I) can actually see. Yet the only thing that is changing is my perspective albeit it does feel like a shift.
I hear a lot of the m-word and it makes me nauseous. But I wonder if the right person would change that. Maybe as an abstract it is scary but to put a face to it would be different?
Bianca worries me. Dinner is tomorrow at her house and this morning she calls to ask what I am not supposed to eat. and I say "excuse me?" and she says "I know you are not allowed to have salt and something else... but I can't remember what you are not allowed to have..." My friends have GOT to stop talking to each other. (right now ice cream is not my friend- or milk- or fried anything)
I digress... in talking to her she saw or is seeing or still seeing a doctor she met another day that we had lunch. He spent most of that lunch drooling so it was only a matter of time before he walked over and introduced himself. I think he's a douche but I will keep that to myself for now because she really needs him to like her. She is getting over an invasive surgery and doesn't feel pretty. We can all relate... except that in her case it is ludicrous (yeah mike) because she is gorgeous.
I say douche because he casually drops into conversation that he is a doc and has a Mercedes. also he has lots of friends who are attys. Bianca has a law degree and is 1 part away from passing the bar. I want her to have a doc or a lawyer or someone worthy of her... but with money plus personality. and I don't think he was cute enough to be THAT arrogant. So they talk on the phone... she mentions she is recovering from a procedure... his response is akin to sporadic texts a few conversations... but basically "I'm feeling out someone else... call me when you are better and I'll put you back in the running for my time" again... this girl says WTF. But there is no polite way to say it. Bianca sees it but chooses not to.
When I visited her at home with soup, she mentioned she'd talked to the dream-killer. They have much in common and between them I don't get a word in edge wise. She says it is refreshing to talk to someone that you want to talk to... So why do we spend time talking to people that we don't want to talk to? back to the f*cked up validation. I want her to recognize that there is better... and yet not even I have it to show her.
There are the days that we talk about this or anything... and she tries to talk about me, and I am getting better at deflecting... but what do you say to someone who asks from the vantage point of love "You are so beautiful, why are you still single?" as if being called beautiful and single is a huge billboard that something is wrong with you.
She says that if I don't let go of the "americanisms" in me, I will end up like every other single american 30 something woman, alone. since when does alone = unhappy. and I know me, and I like me. As I am not traditional in every respect, I don't want traditional just because.
ahhh...today Bianca makes my head hurt.
I hear a lot of the m-word and it makes me nauseous. But I wonder if the right person would change that. Maybe as an abstract it is scary but to put a face to it would be different?
Bianca worries me. Dinner is tomorrow at her house and this morning she calls to ask what I am not supposed to eat. and I say "excuse me?" and she says "I know you are not allowed to have salt and something else... but I can't remember what you are not allowed to have..." My friends have GOT to stop talking to each other. (right now ice cream is not my friend- or milk- or fried anything)
I digress... in talking to her she saw or is seeing or still seeing a doctor she met another day that we had lunch. He spent most of that lunch drooling so it was only a matter of time before he walked over and introduced himself. I think he's a douche but I will keep that to myself for now because she really needs him to like her. She is getting over an invasive surgery and doesn't feel pretty. We can all relate... except that in her case it is ludicrous (yeah mike) because she is gorgeous.
I say douche because he casually drops into conversation that he is a doc and has a Mercedes. also he has lots of friends who are attys. Bianca has a law degree and is 1 part away from passing the bar. I want her to have a doc or a lawyer or someone worthy of her... but with money plus personality. and I don't think he was cute enough to be THAT arrogant. So they talk on the phone... she mentions she is recovering from a procedure... his response is akin to sporadic texts a few conversations... but basically "I'm feeling out someone else... call me when you are better and I'll put you back in the running for my time" again... this girl says WTF. But there is no polite way to say it. Bianca sees it but chooses not to.
When I visited her at home with soup, she mentioned she'd talked to the dream-killer. They have much in common and between them I don't get a word in edge wise. She says it is refreshing to talk to someone that you want to talk to... So why do we spend time talking to people that we don't want to talk to? back to the f*cked up validation. I want her to recognize that there is better... and yet not even I have it to show her.
There are the days that we talk about this or anything... and she tries to talk about me, and I am getting better at deflecting... but what do you say to someone who asks from the vantage point of love "You are so beautiful, why are you still single?" as if being called beautiful and single is a huge billboard that something is wrong with you.
She says that if I don't let go of the "americanisms" in me, I will end up like every other single american 30 something woman, alone. since when does alone = unhappy. and I know me, and I like me. As I am not traditional in every respect, I don't want traditional just because.
ahhh...today Bianca makes my head hurt.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
The Advent of Bird Flu.
It seem like we are doing this quite often, doesn't it, boys and girls? No, the last time was right before going to Columbus. While the time line is approximately the end of the year I am going to take this as a "NO". and it is heart-breaking.
As I sit here amongst my paper-shackles I want to cry. No I didn't think life after school would be easy (F*ck work and school was not easy) but I did sort of see an accomplishment with the stupid degree... now I can't seem to clear the next hurdle.
But neither can I stay here. I have no illusions about the way Louisiana is seen in any "market" that matters. Which is why staying with said company at least look semi-decent on paper. But maybe I am not properly selling that.... or maybe I am not properly selling me.... or maybe I am not the asset I have strived to be seen as... or maybe the world only rewards idiocy. I don't know.
Boss-lady says to take a day and regroup. make a list, weigh options, do everything and nothing for a minute. So that is what tomorrow will be.
Big girl. no tears. in other news... lemon is not taking well to be dropped. he is bucking and is willing to take to the drive to bring me a present. I like presents. he may have feelings. I don't like feelings. or to be fair- I don't understand them. mushy ick.
Monday, December 11, 2006
OMG! I really am the Baby...
...and I have the lotion to prove it.
I will set this one as quickly as possible. The basic premise...I don't understand how Kris is such a sh*tty mom. Especially since we came from the same house and I cannot explain the awesome love that my mom is. She is a fan-freakin-tastic mom.... and yet she does not read my blog... the Internet still scares her... but so does the digital camera. The only reason she uses it now is because it chirps like a bird when you turn it on.... but I digress.
Sunday, I promised to have lunch w/her and my grams and then take them shopping. We have to stop at Target 1st so I will print her pics... the Kodak machine makes her nervous. Grams and I edit, crop, and print. We find a snack for Mouse (grams) and look for mom. She is in a cashier's line and has managed to spend $70 in 3 minutes.... WTF? My mouse whispers in my ear..."She shops like you gamble (I don't gamble... I don't know what I'm doing and it is a bit to obvious... she refers to the time I lost $30 in like 5 min and I didn't fully know how)... but at least she comes home with crap".
Mouse has jokes.
I try to look in the bags and mom snatches them. I try to look at the receipt to see what she bought... she snatched that too. It is uber important I find out what she bought... Mouse and I had a bet. Since she wouldn't let me see, I assume it is for me. Mom shows me everything she buys.
I don't get to see what was in the bag until later. Before I tell you what it is... let me preface... Mom travels a lot, I pick her up from the airport. I don't let any of my friends ride with me because for the longest time she hopped off the plane and greeted me with 6 things
1. you are not eating right
2. you are exercising enough
3. you are not drinking enough water
3. you are not drinking enough water
4. you are not sleeping enough
5. you are not wearing sunscreen consistently
6. your make up looks like sh*t
Then one day we had to tell her the next time she did that... she'd be calling a cab. amazingly she stopped.
On to the Target bag... as I am unloading bags... she says "I meant to put it together in a basket... but you wouldn't get it until later in the week and you need it now".
It was everything my skin needs in winter. Gold bond lotion so I can stop itching through my clothes, baby cream for my face because nothing is moisturizing enough in the winter and I get a funky almost breakout with out actual zits and it's rough and dry and bad, and baby soap for me to wash in, dove cloths to take to the gym, and a little bag for all the stuff. (no that wasn't worth $70... she bought some extras for her and grams). and I am blessed and grateful to have the mommiey that I do. and I don't understand how my sister completely sucks at it.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Lemon Drop
You will remember that we (again... that means I) were only allowed to entertain Lemon until he developed "feelings". Does it sound like I consider that a bad word? Perhaps the place I am in says it is.
We are close to pulling the rip cord. Technically he did not say he had feelings... but yesterday he hinted at taking the drive here to surprise me... maybe open a bottle of wine... maybe "talk"... though I did not think him serious I said that would not work for me as I already had plans (which I did).
He translates into I have a date. He says he has to get off the phone because he has to go and work on his 'perspective'. er? He calls back and asks for the specifics of my 'date', to which I say I have no such thing. Drinks with a friend is not a date. He says... "Have you met you? I promise whoever he is thinks this is a date" and he peppers his monologue with "Not to sound like the jealous boyfriend, because I'm not jealous.... because I realize that I have no right..."
He translates into I have a date. He says he has to get off the phone because he has to go and work on his 'perspective'. er? He calls back and asks for the specifics of my 'date', to which I say I have no such thing. Drinks with a friend is not a date. He says... "Have you met you? I promise whoever he is thinks this is a date" and he peppers his monologue with "Not to sound like the jealous boyfriend, because I'm not jealous.... because I realize that I have no right..."
Right.
So entitlement aside this fictional non-jealous boyfriend is starting to make frequent apperances. "Why did't you answer your phone at wk? I called you like 3 times and the women in your office are going to think I'm a psycho stalker"... I admit he is a little OCD, but sometimes it is like he is on the brink of putting into meaningful words what only comes out as cliches... but I don't think I've expounded on the full myspace experience; as he refers to it.
One day he needed help... he called me freaking out... he called the next day, same problem, same person, he gave me a bad affidavit... eventually he transfered the whole problem to me and I got to take care of it. I called back to "thank" him for giving me his problem. The next day he calls back to say thank you. Fast forward to another day he calls just to say "hi". Somewhere in there I looked forward to talking to him.
Now we talk all the time. He text messages me, he calls me, he emails me... and I him (not trying to make this one sided). Bunkles says it's wierd... in fact he says WIERD the way Joey Lawrence used to say WHOA on Blossom. (I'll give the younguns a minute to look it up on youtube)
but he is sweet and he speaks Kiran and I love that there is so much that I don't have to explain to him. and I've never seen him. Not to say I don't want to... I wouldn't mind...but there is just something about driving an hour to "meet" someone you've only "known" across fiber optics that just sounds ... well pathetic. and I would argue this is different.. but is it really? I have options here, I do. Granted none of them fit me and I have yet to meet someone here who makes me not want to be single anymore... but he is a little to far to freak out.
and then there is the point of knowing he is upset... and yet he won't talk about it... he just shuts down. and the problem here is that I am not the patient one to wait, nor to beg. If you don't want to talk about it, I will ask... maybe I will ask again. Then we walk. let me know how it works out... or don't. This is just a little too reminiscent of my very first post. I guess I do have re-occuring themes. Double ick.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
I guess this is as good a time as any...
And now for the fact surrounding Columbus...
Rewind a couple of months ago when we (ummm... really I) applied and interviewed for what I thought was the perfect job in Phoenix... and we (again; see I) were treated to a brand new adjective to describe one's self.... "overqualified". WTF is that?!
So the way we dealt with it was to go back to the drawing board and get in touch with my HR business partner. Because my company sees fit to provide one for each of the slaves. So I call mine and discover she is fantastic. Smart, funny, witty, and above all privy to the inner- workings of the company I work for and insight on how to get the better job.
*You will note I do not have it yet*
She says the first thing is to find something that looks like it fits my "career path" to which I say... "No, no I'm pretty close to prostituting myself in a professional (see non-sexual way) for an obnoxious amount of money". She laughs ands says that does not look so good on paper. So we find what we want to do, tailor resume to look like a progression towards it, and then knock their socks off.
Whom? you may ask? everybody. Starting with my boss and every bigger boss I can get to. Basically I am to speak to every person who will speak to me. How is this going?.... ummm... good and bad days.
Which led to to the biggest boss-lady in my city and her bigger gorilla boss (see the king of pride rock). The lady has no education and said I should focus on climbing the ladder one rung at a time. (this made me want to vomit on the floor of her office).
The gorilla said 1. to look at outside firms because this one may not be in a position to compensate me for my obvious worth and ambition. (also made me want to vomit) and 2. if I chose to stay- to send him my resume in email form so he could drop my name in casual conversations. and 3. to apply for a analyst rotation program which would give me the oppurtunity to do all the fun stuff for a decent living wage.
I am stupid. I stayed. and have splashed the resume from here to kingdom come. I did send him my resume and he does try to pimp me, dunno what it is that keeps me still here. and the program... The last "class" created a time conflict of finishing school so we didn't go beyond the preliminary round.
The back up to all of this... law school in august. still a viable option. What frightens me is my lsat... having to take it again, knowing I cannot change my gpa and trying to make the most of what will be the most practical "real job" experience.
My contact at J&B says it would be infinetly smarter for me to take another year... and a prep course for the GMAT... knock it out of the park and do the same for the LSAT. Also, apparently a promotion would show tremendous maturity and growth.
So if we don't get a promotion worth having, there is a chance we are hitting a lesser law school in August. No, no bubba... that's not how we roll.
Random Tuesday, I called in sick... and I was sick... in a sense. My Jen and I had lunch and I got a call. The gorilla says "you are not at work today? I'm putting you on a plane either tonight or 1st thing in the morning to Columbus to talk to so-and-so about the program you need to be in." Then the hiring manager calls to make arrangements. Off we go.
Columbus was overcast and gloomy. What made it worse was the 20 other candidates I interviewed with. They took 600 apps and interviewed a total of 50 in Chicago and Columbus combined. (see I'm going to be sick Part III) The worst part is (and this is really the worst part) is that positive thing you could say about me (articulate, educated- well degree holding anyway, driven, etc) I could say about any of them.
The interview was a writing sample, 2 face to faces, and a group activity where we were observed. at the end of the day... I don't know how it went.
The gorilla made a BIG deal about it... everyone knows. If I don't get this I am going to be so amazingly embarrassed and mortified. But everybody in the world is sure I got it. Friday makes a whole month... and I haven't heard anything from the only person that matters.
Gorilla told me to call the hiring manager (who was one of my face-to-faces and he really did pitch me soft balls... but I wonder if that is just his demeanor. He is easy to talk to) so I did, and left a message before Thanksgiving... NOTHING.
Further I have a friend of Bat-Girl's sister on the inside in Columbus to kind of poke around. and still... NOTHING. Ick.
So we look to the back of plans and duck every question about this. The uncertainty is making it hard to eat. Now I'm starting to actually lose the weight Bride-zilla wanted me too. My friends are accusing me of buying in the "caucasian" ideal of beauty and trying to lose the butt (i wouldn't complain).
While I feel better I blogged this... I wish I just knew how this turns out... I mean, do these guys know my cab driver in Columbus was even praying for me? That has GOT to be worth something.
Rewind a couple of months ago when we (ummm... really I) applied and interviewed for what I thought was the perfect job in Phoenix... and we (again; see I) were treated to a brand new adjective to describe one's self.... "overqualified". WTF is that?!
So the way we dealt with it was to go back to the drawing board and get in touch with my HR business partner. Because my company sees fit to provide one for each of the slaves. So I call mine and discover she is fantastic. Smart, funny, witty, and above all privy to the inner- workings of the company I work for and insight on how to get the better job.
*You will note I do not have it yet*
She says the first thing is to find something that looks like it fits my "career path" to which I say... "No, no I'm pretty close to prostituting myself in a professional (see non-sexual way) for an obnoxious amount of money". She laughs ands says that does not look so good on paper. So we find what we want to do, tailor resume to look like a progression towards it, and then knock their socks off.
Whom? you may ask? everybody. Starting with my boss and every bigger boss I can get to. Basically I am to speak to every person who will speak to me. How is this going?.... ummm... good and bad days.
Which led to to the biggest boss-lady in my city and her bigger gorilla boss (see the king of pride rock). The lady has no education and said I should focus on climbing the ladder one rung at a time. (this made me want to vomit on the floor of her office).
The gorilla said 1. to look at outside firms because this one may not be in a position to compensate me for my obvious worth and ambition. (also made me want to vomit) and 2. if I chose to stay- to send him my resume in email form so he could drop my name in casual conversations. and 3. to apply for a analyst rotation program which would give me the oppurtunity to do all the fun stuff for a decent living wage.
I am stupid. I stayed. and have splashed the resume from here to kingdom come. I did send him my resume and he does try to pimp me, dunno what it is that keeps me still here. and the program... The last "class" created a time conflict of finishing school so we didn't go beyond the preliminary round.
The back up to all of this... law school in august. still a viable option. What frightens me is my lsat... having to take it again, knowing I cannot change my gpa and trying to make the most of what will be the most practical "real job" experience.
My contact at J&B says it would be infinetly smarter for me to take another year... and a prep course for the GMAT... knock it out of the park and do the same for the LSAT. Also, apparently a promotion would show tremendous maturity and growth.
So if we don't get a promotion worth having, there is a chance we are hitting a lesser law school in August. No, no bubba... that's not how we roll.
Random Tuesday, I called in sick... and I was sick... in a sense. My Jen and I had lunch and I got a call. The gorilla says "you are not at work today? I'm putting you on a plane either tonight or 1st thing in the morning to Columbus to talk to so-and-so about the program you need to be in." Then the hiring manager calls to make arrangements. Off we go.
Columbus was overcast and gloomy. What made it worse was the 20 other candidates I interviewed with. They took 600 apps and interviewed a total of 50 in Chicago and Columbus combined. (see I'm going to be sick Part III) The worst part is (and this is really the worst part) is that positive thing you could say about me (articulate, educated- well degree holding anyway, driven, etc) I could say about any of them.
The interview was a writing sample, 2 face to faces, and a group activity where we were observed. at the end of the day... I don't know how it went.
The gorilla made a BIG deal about it... everyone knows. If I don't get this I am going to be so amazingly embarrassed and mortified. But everybody in the world is sure I got it. Friday makes a whole month... and I haven't heard anything from the only person that matters.
Gorilla told me to call the hiring manager (who was one of my face-to-faces and he really did pitch me soft balls... but I wonder if that is just his demeanor. He is easy to talk to) so I did, and left a message before Thanksgiving... NOTHING.
Further I have a friend of Bat-Girl's sister on the inside in Columbus to kind of poke around. and still... NOTHING. Ick.
So we look to the back of plans and duck every question about this. The uncertainty is making it hard to eat. Now I'm starting to actually lose the weight Bride-zilla wanted me too. My friends are accusing me of buying in the "caucasian" ideal of beauty and trying to lose the butt (i wouldn't complain).
While I feel better I blogged this... I wish I just knew how this turns out... I mean, do these guys know my cab driver in Columbus was even praying for me? That has GOT to be worth something.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
3:12.... Do you like those odds?
you shouldn't.
As of yesterday I am the owner of a white 2004 Jeep Liberty. I love it. She is the baby. I will give you the name as soon as she has one. The Dream Killer and I spent all day doing the paper work for this thing, and I am so happy it is over!
The '06 was just too much at the end of the day... and Enterprise wanted too much for theirs. We dropped off the rental and I took DK home. He calls to say congrats because this is my first big-girl purchase and I think we did pretty good.
I got home late and called Kris to tell her about it... she burst into tears and sniffled like a muppett. To which I am like... ok, this is BIG even to me... but not THAT big... she's not crying over me.
I ask what's wrong and she doesn't want to tell because she says I will tell my mom. I say "to each his own and God for all... I am sure you will tell her in your own time.. when whatever this is is bad enough and you are hitting her up for money" She cries even harder... apparently that is the wrong thing to say.
Ready for what called forth the water works? She had a miscarriage.
Oh, did you not know my sister was pregnant? neither did I.
Do you now know who would be the father? neither does she.
Does your heart go out to her because you imagine it is incredibly painful to lose a child? hold on to that, the punch line is coming.
Odds are that is the boy (she knows it was a boy) were to have been healthy enough to gestate (sp?) Kris would have killed him. 3:12
She has 3 kids from her marriage (granted before they were married... but to her the means justified the end) 8 abortions and 1 miscarriage.
The best stat about all of this (or the worst if you do not speak Kiran) is that in NYC you can have an abortion up until the day before you are due... it just costs a little more. I am nauseated that Kris knows this. Though, she says she is most upset because this is the one she wanted to keep.... ummm.... YOU DON'T HAVE CUSTODY OF THE 3 YOU HAVE BECAUSE YOU ARE AN UNFIT HUMAN BEING... but I digress.
Politics aside, how interesting is it that the issue of abortion is whether or not you can. Much like marriage, or divorce. We are a mutually exclusive band of hypocrites. If you can, it is free season to do it again and again. To try to regulate that is an imposition upon free will. But it just seems like there are somethings... i can't even finish that sentence.
Kris is being "brave" and tells me not to worry about her... I say "don't worry, I don't" and DK says I am wrong to be silently grateful that God has spared another soul. He says that is me judging her. wow.
Much as I wish I were, I am not numb to this. What puts it into perspective is that I remember the way I did not handle abortion #4 well. I was getting gas at an Exxon. I walked in and bought a small bottle of Goose, a litre of Sprite, and snatched a cup of ice. The irritating clerk carded me 2x and pulled out the pity face of ... "honey, you're not really going to drink this? You are too pretty to drink" I remember it because it took everything in me not to clock her. My revenge? I sat on my car and drank till I couldn't see. They could have called the cops. They didn't.
Dream killer drove up and drove me across the street. (I was smart enough to pick the gas station that was spitting distance from my town house)
and we didn't talk about it. but the next argument... he threw her at me... something akin to "that's why your sister is such and such"
talk about diarrhea of the blog! ok... will blog later with better stuff.
(but did you get the pic? get it ...out of 12? fine, don't smile, i thought it was great.)
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