She sneaks up behind me, barely rustling the papers in her hands. She does it purposefully so she can examine the contents of my desk. Trying to glean some sort of twisted insite into me.
One more time and I’m going to thump her.
I cover my personal business and whirl around.
“Yes?” The tone in my voice indicating annoyance at her interruption.
She gives me papers to sign.
I hand bacthem back and wait for her to leave.
She doesn’t.
Her personal grilling begins. She only wants to learn more and more about me because she wants to be more and more like me. Somebody might be flattered by that but I’m not. It kind of freaks me out. I’m afraid one day I’ll show up at work and she will have copied my entire wardrobe and quirks.
As a child, I loathed being different. I couldn’t help being different, I was born that way. I wanted and needed to be a part of the lemming culture.
Now that I’m older, I’ve learned to love my differences and prefer to do my own thing rather than being a follower. On the other hand, I also don’t want to be a leader either. What’s that old adage?
Do not walk in front of me for I may not follow.
Do not walk behind me for I may not lead.
Walk beside me and be my friend.
I glare at her trying not to snarl, not answering her. She finally takes the hint I'm not in the mood for 20 Questions today and walks away.
Thank God she's not a "toucher." I don't think I'd be able to handle her stalking me AND touching me.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
April Showers...
All fingers pointed towards me in agreement. I’m “it.” Not that I was surprised. I throw damn good parties.
She is my friend and I’m happy to do it for her even though she’s not thrilled about her present situation.
As I take the donations for money and sign-ups for food, I list the names carefully and envision the pretty decorations draped over the drab green walls of the conference room. My mind compartmentalizes the things I need to do to make this baby shower a success. She’s having a girl. Pink streamers, white linens, dark pink M&M’s, white cake, and balloons. It’s not a party without balloons.
As I plan away for this special occasion, my mind becomes melancholy. I wish it were me and I am envious. Constantly reminded of what I can’t have. Maybe it’s all the comments directed towards me the last few weeks. It happens every time.
“Hey, you could be next!”
“You should have another one. We’d throw you a sweet party.”
“Didn’t you ever want a 2nd?”
“Wouldn’t it be funny if next year you were in her shoes?”
I don’t want to be a kill-joy for the party so I smile and nod making the quickest exit possible. Hoping the sadness inside never reaches my eyes to show the hollow spot in my heart.
She is my friend and I’m happy to do it for her even though she’s not thrilled about her present situation.
As I take the donations for money and sign-ups for food, I list the names carefully and envision the pretty decorations draped over the drab green walls of the conference room. My mind compartmentalizes the things I need to do to make this baby shower a success. She’s having a girl. Pink streamers, white linens, dark pink M&M’s, white cake, and balloons. It’s not a party without balloons.
As I plan away for this special occasion, my mind becomes melancholy. I wish it were me and I am envious. Constantly reminded of what I can’t have. Maybe it’s all the comments directed towards me the last few weeks. It happens every time.
“Hey, you could be next!”
“You should have another one. We’d throw you a sweet party.”
“Didn’t you ever want a 2nd?”
“Wouldn’t it be funny if next year you were in her shoes?”
I don’t want to be a kill-joy for the party so I smile and nod making the quickest exit possible. Hoping the sadness inside never reaches my eyes to show the hollow spot in my heart.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Picture this, if you will...
Slowly we turned the pages. One by one. I can't say I ever remember sitting with you and leafing through our shared life like this.
It was really nice.
Every page elicits a giggle and one or both of us would point to a particular picture and say, "I remember that."
It was time well spent getting back to our roots.
There were so many memories I forgot about. So many stories left in the dust as we got busy with regular life.
We started out so young. I watched us literally grow up smile by smile, page by page as we flipped through the pictures.
21 seems like a long time, but it really hasn't been long enough for me.
It was really nice.
Every page elicits a giggle and one or both of us would point to a particular picture and say, "I remember that."
It was time well spent getting back to our roots.
There were so many memories I forgot about. So many stories left in the dust as we got busy with regular life.
We started out so young. I watched us literally grow up smile by smile, page by page as we flipped through the pictures.
21 seems like a long time, but it really hasn't been long enough for me.
Friday, March 20, 2009
No fun cancelled due to illness...
Relief washed through me as I heard the news.
No company visiting me this weekend. An illness had kept them at bay.
The fact that I'm happy they can't visit makes me kick it around in my head. Why am I happy?
Because I like him but she's his baggage.
Because he's easy to spend time with and she needs a babysitter.
Because I've outgrown her antics and can't shut him out.
Because he needs us but we don't need her.
Does this make me a bad person?
No company visiting me this weekend. An illness had kept them at bay.
The fact that I'm happy they can't visit makes me kick it around in my head. Why am I happy?
Because I like him but she's his baggage.
Because he's easy to spend time with and she needs a babysitter.
Because I've outgrown her antics and can't shut him out.
Because he needs us but we don't need her.
Does this make me a bad person?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Achilles Mouth and Dyslexic Ears...
His benign observation hit me the wrong way, for no other reason other than my ears weren’t connected to my brain so early in the morning. I became flustered, angry, and defensive. Thinking back on it, I shake my head in wonder how it must’ve looked to an outsider.
He said, “Good morning!”
I said, “Up yours!”
Clearly he was speaking Chinese and I was hearing Swahili. Communication break down is evident.
As my hearing becomes more and more twisted his explanations to soothe a soon-to-be hostile situation do more and more damage to himself. I didn’t wake up cranky, but I seemed to be on a roll now.
How does one stop the idiotic cycle? Do I crawl back in to bed and start the day over?
I need a filter in the morning that slowly spells things out for me using bright colors to help decipher how I should take the conversation. Maybe then mornings in my home won’t be so contentious.
He said, “Good morning!”
I said, “Up yours!”
Clearly he was speaking Chinese and I was hearing Swahili. Communication break down is evident.
As my hearing becomes more and more twisted his explanations to soothe a soon-to-be hostile situation do more and more damage to himself. I didn’t wake up cranky, but I seemed to be on a roll now.
How does one stop the idiotic cycle? Do I crawl back in to bed and start the day over?
I need a filter in the morning that slowly spells things out for me using bright colors to help decipher how I should take the conversation. Maybe then mornings in my home won’t be so contentious.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Beannachtam na Feile Padraig!
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
For those who have a little Irish in them today, whether it be through ancestry or from whisky, I bestow an Irish blessing on you:
Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!
Here’s to you and yours,
And to mine and ours,
And if mine and ours ever come
Across you and yours,
I hope you and yours will do
As much for mine and ours,
As mine and ours have done
For you and yours!
For those who have a little Irish in them today, whether it be through ancestry or from whisky, I bestow an Irish blessing on you:
Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!
Here’s to you and yours,
And to mine and ours,
And if mine and ours ever come
Across you and yours,
I hope you and yours will do
As much for mine and ours,
As mine and ours have done
For you and yours!
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Verbose me...
My journal lays on the table. My thoughts spilled out on the pages. I do not hide what's written inside.
Opening up the book is an invitation to my experiences and my views on things in my life.
Sometimes it's funny. Other times it's not. It's just what's rattling around in my head that needs to get out.
I put my words out there and they are open to interpretation.
Sometimes I'm able to say what I mean and my message is conveyed clearly. Other times it is viewed not how I meant, or maybe I meant it that way but didn't realize it. Sometimes they come out completely wrong and understood right.
Does that makes sense?
Because sometimes I confuse even myself.
Opening up the book is an invitation to my experiences and my views on things in my life.
Sometimes it's funny. Other times it's not. It's just what's rattling around in my head that needs to get out.
I put my words out there and they are open to interpretation.
Sometimes I'm able to say what I mean and my message is conveyed clearly. Other times it is viewed not how I meant, or maybe I meant it that way but didn't realize it. Sometimes they come out completely wrong and understood right.
Does that makes sense?
Because sometimes I confuse even myself.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
PMS - Pre Moon Syndrome...
The impending full moon has wreaked havoc on my life.
My co-workers appear to be jacked up on Skittles and Mountain Dew.
With an axe to grind.
A can of whoop-ass was opened up on me during a meeting and I had to sit and take it.
With a smile.
The screaming in my head drowned out the accusations and finger pointing. I shut down so I wouldn't leap across the table and smack the smug look off her face.
To add insult to injury, some tool gave me the finger while I was waiting patiently in line.
I hate people.
Is it any wonder why I don't become a hermit?
My co-workers appear to be jacked up on Skittles and Mountain Dew.
With an axe to grind.
A can of whoop-ass was opened up on me during a meeting and I had to sit and take it.
With a smile.
The screaming in my head drowned out the accusations and finger pointing. I shut down so I wouldn't leap across the table and smack the smug look off her face.
To add insult to injury, some tool gave me the finger while I was waiting patiently in line.
I hate people.
Is it any wonder why I don't become a hermit?
Monday, March 9, 2009
Splintered Sunlight...
A hint of spring is in the air. Snow has melted and I catch the damp earthy smell from the soggy ground.
It is too early for the flowers to push their tender green chutes up through the mud up towards the warming sunshine.
I spend the day enjoying wearing lighter clothes and not being bundled up like and Eskimo.
I know Mother Nature is teasing me, but I like it just the same.
For tomorrow shall be cold and damp. Winter will return with a vengeance as quickly as it had left.
It just makes me long for warmer days, longer sunlight, and pretty flowers sprinkled throughout my yard.
It is too early for the flowers to push their tender green chutes up through the mud up towards the warming sunshine.
I spend the day enjoying wearing lighter clothes and not being bundled up like and Eskimo.
I know Mother Nature is teasing me, but I like it just the same.
For tomorrow shall be cold and damp. Winter will return with a vengeance as quickly as it had left.
It just makes me long for warmer days, longer sunlight, and pretty flowers sprinkled throughout my yard.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Playground Jungle...
Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack
all dressed in black, black, black
with silver buttons, buttons, buttons
all down her back, back, back.
The word search had "Mary Mack" as a game listed. My eyes lit up and my body bounced off the couch.
Surprised by my actions, he looked at me with curiosity and a smile.
"I know this game!" I said excitedly. My thoughts sent me back to the playground of my elementary school.
I know the clapping game and was very good at it.
About 147 years ago.
My mind raced trying to remember the intricate clapping game.
There I made him practice the long forgotten pattern with me. He laughed as he tried to duck down below the large picture window in the living room. Hoping the neighbors didn't see what was going on as I was smacking his hands.
My voice remembered the sing-song tune. I could almost smell the hot sun baking the black asphalt of the playground.
I regaled the other songs and admitted to being very good at jumprope too.
I may have hated school, but I loved recess.
The next tid-bit of my childhood didn't surprise him one iota.
That one little girl I didn't like who insisted in playing jumprope with me and my friends inevitably wound up getting hit in the head by the rope.
Even as a child, I enjoyed pulling the rope a little tighter just to clip her and get her "out."
The fact that I repeatedly hit her in the head wasn't necessarily my fault if she always insisted in playing with my group.
I guess leopards don't change their spots.
There are still plenty of people in this world who I'd love to bean in the head once in a while.
Cinderella, dressed in yella
went upstairs to kiss a fella
made a mistake and kissed a snake
how many doctors did it take?
1. 2. 3. 4.
BLAM!
all dressed in black, black, black
with silver buttons, buttons, buttons
all down her back, back, back.
The word search had "Mary Mack" as a game listed. My eyes lit up and my body bounced off the couch.
Surprised by my actions, he looked at me with curiosity and a smile.
"I know this game!" I said excitedly. My thoughts sent me back to the playground of my elementary school.
I know the clapping game and was very good at it.
About 147 years ago.
My mind raced trying to remember the intricate clapping game.
There I made him practice the long forgotten pattern with me. He laughed as he tried to duck down below the large picture window in the living room. Hoping the neighbors didn't see what was going on as I was smacking his hands.
My voice remembered the sing-song tune. I could almost smell the hot sun baking the black asphalt of the playground.
I regaled the other songs and admitted to being very good at jumprope too.
I may have hated school, but I loved recess.
The next tid-bit of my childhood didn't surprise him one iota.
That one little girl I didn't like who insisted in playing jumprope with me and my friends inevitably wound up getting hit in the head by the rope.
Even as a child, I enjoyed pulling the rope a little tighter just to clip her and get her "out."
The fact that I repeatedly hit her in the head wasn't necessarily my fault if she always insisted in playing with my group.
I guess leopards don't change their spots.
There are still plenty of people in this world who I'd love to bean in the head once in a while.
Cinderella, dressed in yella
went upstairs to kiss a fella
made a mistake and kissed a snake
how many doctors did it take?
1. 2. 3. 4.
BLAM!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Chilly Willy...
I zip my parka up to my chin. Thankfully the coat goes down almost to my ankles.
For once, I appreciate the fact that I'm short. If I were any taller, the coat would protect less of my legs and then I would be even colder than I already am.
I pull the hood up over my head and I become a mixture of one of those sand people from Star Wars and a walking sleeping bag.
My gloved fingers can still feel the cold seeping through the thick material.
It made it all the way up to 11 degrees today.
Eleven.
Up to.
Eleven.
I remember only a couple months ago looking forward to snow and winter.
What was I thinking? I'm freezing my niblets off and it's not pretty.
For once, I appreciate the fact that I'm short. If I were any taller, the coat would protect less of my legs and then I would be even colder than I already am.
I pull the hood up over my head and I become a mixture of one of those sand people from Star Wars and a walking sleeping bag.
My gloved fingers can still feel the cold seeping through the thick material.
It made it all the way up to 11 degrees today.
Eleven.
Up to.
Eleven.
I remember only a couple months ago looking forward to snow and winter.
What was I thinking? I'm freezing my niblets off and it's not pretty.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Ozoned Out...
I inhale deeply and try to pick up the scent swirling around me.
Every year I wait for this day. It's not a specific date, but an exact moment.
It's the day you smell the coming snow storm.
I briefly catch a whiff of - for lack of a better term - ozone.
It's that smell of right before the storm. Impurities are pushed out of the way and the air smells clean.
It's as if the Earth is pressing a reset button to get rid of the human stink.
Again, I inhale deeply and I feel the giddiness of my inner-child building within me.
Here it comes. I hope I wake up to a winter wonderland in the morning.
Every year I wait for this day. It's not a specific date, but an exact moment.
It's the day you smell the coming snow storm.
I briefly catch a whiff of - for lack of a better term - ozone.
It's that smell of right before the storm. Impurities are pushed out of the way and the air smells clean.
It's as if the Earth is pressing a reset button to get rid of the human stink.
Again, I inhale deeply and I feel the giddiness of my inner-child building within me.
Here it comes. I hope I wake up to a winter wonderland in the morning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)