Reoccurring Question

As many of you know by now, I have selective memory. I don't remember a lot from my childhood. There are some very significant events that stand out, and there are a few minor details that I remember, but for the most part, I don't have a lot of memories before the 6th grade. And even those are a little thin.

I don't remember being a "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy" child, or a "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? ARE WE THERE YET?" kid, but lately I've been asking almost anyone who will entertain the question, "How do you know when you've gotten to where you're supposed to be?". Since I've bored my family and friends with the philosophical exercise, I now pose the question to you.

Today, the question arises because I decided to text message a friend from the past that I'll call Thor. Thor and I were very good friends in college and I think we both thought that at some point we would end up married. In the past few years, Thor has gotten married and became father to an adorable baby boy. Initially when he called to tell me about his wife, I felt the ever constant wind escape from my sails. I think I was in a small state of shock. I was just so sure that he was the one. How could I have been so wrong? But after time passed, I could see how that relationship might not have been right for me - at least that's how I reasoned the shock away.

A couple of years ago, Thor called me to tell me that he thought about me a lot and thought that maybe he made a mistake by marrying his wife. Ah ha! Maybe I wasn't so wrong about him. But a few days into my daydreamy bliss, he deflated my sails again by saying that while he wasn't completely happy, he couldn't leave his wife and kids. At that point, I decided that I never wanted to talk to him again. Wouldn't care if our paths never crossed.

But last night, I had a dream about him. It made me wonder where he was and what he was doing. I sent him a text that simply said "Merry Christmas", and from that, a conversation ensued. It was so nice to hear his voice. And while I know he's not "the one", it did make me wonder how you know when you've gotten to where you're supposed to be.

Am I supposed to be married with kids, or have I reached my final destination where that is concerned? Am I supposed to be doing something else with my education, or am I already where I'm meant to be?

Here's the rant: Why doesn't life come with a road map?!

The Best Christmas Ever

First off, I have to thank my friend Lyndsay over at "I Used To Be Witty" for yesterday's post called "Where Is Yoko?". Please run, don't walk, over and check her out. AND DON'T SKIP OVER THE VIDEO!

Noah's Mommy over at Project Mommyhood posted about a great sewing machine she is getting/got for Christmas. It was her post that inspired my posting today.

Answer me this, what is your absolute favorite Christmas present you've received and what was your most favorite gift to give?

I hate to admit this, because I know it would probably hurt my parents' feelings, but I don't remember too many Christmas presents I received as a kid. There was the year of the Cabbage Patch Doll. Cabbage Patch Dolls were THE hot gift that year. Parents were fighting and trampling over each other to get them for their kids. Stores couldn't keep them on the shelves. Somehow my mom managed to snag one for me and one for my sister. That was a good year. We did the happy dance all around the tree. I also vaguely remember a pink and green ESPIRIT sweatshirt and matching pants that I loved, but that's about the extent of my childhood Christmas present memory.

The best Christmas present I can remember getting as an adult is a completely different story. From the outset, I should say that my mom gives good presents. She doesn't always present them the best, a la the year that everything was still in shopping bags, but I know she usually puts thought into her gifts. She's a great giver of jewelry and she believes in only giving the good stuff. (I fully appreciate that!) Most of my great jewelry was a gift from her. But it was the Kitchen-Aid mixer she gave me that would top the list as the best Christmas gift ever.

I remember that she gave it to me in a black trash bag with a red bow on it (come to think about it, mom hasn't wrapped a gift in awhile!). And when I opened the bag and saw that mixer, I'm sure I did a happy dance that rivaled the Cabbage Patch Christmas. You see, I had been wanting a stand mixer for quite some time. I love to bake, but the hand mixer just wasn't cutting it anymore. The one my mother had was given to her as a wedding gift twenty-something years ago, and one of the mixers was badly bent. I didn't have my own mixer because I hadn't lived in my own space for quite awhile (story for a different post) and wouldn't have had the space or the use for one. I had been longing for one since I used one in my friend's house many moons ago. She taught me how to make cinnamon rolls and I was hooked, but there was no way I was going to make cinnamon rolls with a hand mixer. I'm sure I talked about wanting a stand mixer for quite some time. Somewhere along the line, Mom heard my plea and granted my wish for Christmas. I rank it as my best Christmas present because I use it all the time and every time I do, I think about my mom.

The best present I've ever given was, well, hmm..., I'm not really sure. I guess that's a completely subjective question. Maybe the question I should be asking is, what was the Christmas present you most enjoyed giving. There was the year that I gave my Mom a signed Romare Bearden print for Christmas. That was a lot of fun. Dad really enjoyed the iPod me and my sister gave him a few years ago. But I've given a gift this year that I think, is probably the most meaningful Christmas present I've ever given. I won't speak of it here, because I don't want the recipient to know what is coming.

I'll keep you posted.

Here's the rant: I hope my mom wraps at least one present this year.

25 Things

I was challenged to create a list of 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about myself by my friend, Kara, on Facebook. The following is the note I wrote in response to her challenge.

1. I am eating mac & cheese for lunch, which is very odd for me. I don't believe that mac & cheese is enough to make a meal, and I'm scared of eating too much starch - which is why I'm not a big bread eater either.
2. I sometimes regret having gone to law school. The knowledge is great, but the education wasn't really cost effective - at least not for me, not yet.
3. This time of year, I secretly wish my parents were still together. It's a completely selfish wish, but aren't we all entitled to at least one of those?
4. I'm not good at maintaining friendships. I've met a number of people over the years that I enjoyed being around and considered a friend during the period of time that we were in the same geographic space. But after we parted ways, I didn't keep in contact. Well, neither did they, now that I think about it. I think about them a lot (HHS folks, Bradley house mates, LDFers, UB folks), but I'm just not good at keeping up with people. Thank goodness for Facebook!
5. I'm scared that I'll never get married and that I'll grow old alone.
6. I want to have kids, but I don't want the stretch marks.
7. I want to do something that will land me in Ebony or Jet magazine. Since I was a kid, I've longed to accomplish something that would put my name in bold print on the Jet "Tickertape" page. This is really about my desire to do something big in the world. I want to make systemic change. I want the world to be a better place because of the work I do.
8. I absolutely adore my dog. Check her out! http://thetildyspot.blogspot.com/
9. I am immensely proud of my sister. She teaches children with autism in SE Washington, DC and is working on her Masters at the same time. She graduates from GWU in the spring. Woohoo!
10. I was not a good student in college. I practically slid by. I had a lot of personal tragedies during my five, yes, five years there.
11. I am currently going through orthodontic care. I had braces in middle/high school, but somewhere during my many relocations, I lost my retainer. My teeth shifted, and I was not happy about that. Since my Dad is a dentist, I was a little embarrassed that my smile wasn't as nice as it could be. I am now wearing an invisilign type process. Almost done. Loving it!
12. I'm bored with my life. I'm trying to figure out what big and exciting thing I should do next. Any suggestions?
13. If there is more than one light switch on a panel, I will do whatever I have to to be sure that they are all in the same position. I have a panel in my living room with three switches on it, and I've determined that it's impossible for them to be in the same position. Drives me a little batty.
14. I am confident that one day I will win the Mega Millions. When I do, I will erase my law school debt, buy a house and a car, and then I'll take care of my family's debts too. That's my practical list. After that, I'll travel like crazy and buy a few things that I secretly covet.
15. I want to move back to Virginia - maybe even to Lynchburg. I miss my family and hate being so far away from everyone.
16. I've been told that I have selective memory. I wouldn't know. :)
17. I am fiercely loyal. It's hurt me in the past, but there must be some sort of genetic wiring that causes me to stay that way, even when it causes me to get burned.
18. I have learned that sometimes, being honest is not what your friends want or need from you. I have one friend that I know will always tell me the truth and I have promised the same to her. With everyone else, when I have to, I choose my words very carefully.
19. I have a thing for cartoons; specifically Looney Tunes shorts and Disney movies. I'm 35 years old and still watch Bugs Bunny cartoons (on dvd) on Saturday mornings and I have a nearly complete collection of Disney movies on dvd.
20. I'm a hopeless romantic. I was ruined by Disney movies, Gershwin tunes, and the belief that a/the man should treat me as well as my Dad.
21. I think I might be addicted to blogging. It's such a cool way to anonymously connect with people and I love to write. Blogging has become a great outlet for me to exercise my writing chops.
22. I have lots of great stories that involve famous people, but I'm always too self conscious to tell them.
23. I want to write a book and have it published.
24. I'm good at coming up with great ideas and never fully developing them. But I'm really good at encouraging people to develop their ideas.
25. I can't understand why it's so hard for people to understand that it's the little things in life that make us the happiest. I had a friend tell me the other day that he would be SO happy to get a Duncan Hines cake with chocolate icing for his birthday. How simple.

Dependency

I am a much better person when someone is depending on me. I hate to let down people. I was the kid whose parents could give me "that look" and reduce me to tears. I refuse to be the source of disappointment.

My bestest sistahgurlfriend has been going to boot camp workouts lately. She had a baby in April and is in the process of reclaiming her body. This morning it was 32 degrees where she lives, and she almost decided to skip boot camp, but something in her made her get up and go. She was proud of herself and I was immensely proud of her. She said, "I must be a little off to do this mess". I responded with, "It's called focus, I think".

But the more I think about it, the more I think it might be called determination and self reliance.

Here's the rant: When did I stop depending on myself? Why is it that I can walk the dog twice a day regardless of rain, shine, wind, sleet, snow, or hail, but I can't get it together to find a class that will help me be able to touch my toes again. Why am I always available to my friends in need, but I can't keep my checkbook balanced? What happened in my life that I stopped depending on me and why do I not feel hugely disappointed by that?

Why Can't I Get It Right?

Today, there's no set up. I'm going straight to the rant.

Money depresses me. I never have enough of it, which doesn't make sense to me because I have a good job with decent pay. It's as if I can't add and subtract or something. Maybe it's the crazy bank timing that throws me off. Maybe it's simply that I don't make enough to make ends meet. Whatever the reason, it seems like I'm constantly overdrawn. Today was payday; a day I look forward to because it offers me a little relief. The middle of the month payday is best because it's not completely devoted to my rent or bills. There's a little wiggle room. Nothing major. Just enough so that I don't have to count pennies or eat Ramen. But this time I don't have that. "My back is so far back it's on the other side of the wall." (Prince lyric reference, for those that aren't true fans.) Once my necessary bills are paid, I'll be lucky to have fifty bucks leftover for the next two weeks. And I haven't gotten my parents anything for Christmas yet.

I'm sick of Ramen.

Thank you for your attention. Please return to your holiday cheer.

At What Point Do You Take Action?

Thanks for all of the comments yesterday! I was really excited to see that I prompted a few people to think AND respond. Thanks again.


I don't want to go into too much detail here, so let me just pose the question. At what point do you tell The Person That Calls The Shots (TPTCTS) that you are SERIOUSLY concerned about a co-worker's mental health?

Help me out here, people. I'm really not sure what to do, but life around here is starting to be a bit more than uncomfortable.

Comments? Suggestions?

Theme Songs

As you know, this week, my theme song is Michael Jackson's "Jam". As I'm writing this, I'm doing some serious chair dancing choreography at my desk. If someone were to walk by right now, I think I'd be the joke of the office today. Probably should get up and close my door.

Anyway, as a result of my new found theme song (thanks again, Dad), I've decided to start a theme song playlist on my iPod. So far, I've got:

"I Was Born To Reign" by Will Smith - This song is about two minutes long and is a great pick me up when I'm on my way to do something that requires me to be super confident.

"Stayin' Alive" by The Bee Gees - C'mon. No matter who you are, this makes you strut down the street like your stuff don't stink.

"Yes We Can" by The Pointer Sisters - The lyrics are strong and the groove is infectious.

Help me out here. What are your theme songs? What songs do you listen to when you need to strut your stuff? When you need to be super confident? When you just need to make it through?

Getting The Hang Of This

I wrote a great rant today about something I experienced, and then I thought, "Maybe I shouldn't post this. I mean, what if someone trips across this? I did share my blog with a couple of folks at work when I was ranting about the mouse in my house. What if they visit it often?"

Here's the rant: Why didn't someone explain to me the beauty of blogging before I started this thing? I never should have shared this with people that I don't want to know my business. This would've been such an awesome place to anonymously vent. Oh well. Guess I'll have to save that posting for my book.

It Ain't Too Hard For Me To Jam

My Dad is always good for giving me an analysis with a musical twist. Case in point. I had very trying day at work today. I was denied a professional courtesy that I've seen extended to my colleagues time after time. Since this is the first time I asked for such a courtesy, I knew that it would be extended to me, but it was not. I was mortified. I felt that I had been kicked in the gut. I couldn't catch my breath and was fighting back tears. I lost that fight.

After consulting with my bestest sistahgurlfriend, I decided to call The Person That Calls The Shots (TPTCTS) and ask why I was denied. I was stern in my tone and direct with my question. I think I caught TPTCTS off guard because he began to stutter a bit. He passed the blame to someone else, and so, of course, I called that person, and after about ten minutes, I guided her to the conclusion that I wanted her to reach. I got what I wanted, but it was not without some serious stress that I'm sure sent my blood pressure up quite a few points.

So back to my Dad. When I called him to tell him about this, he went into analysis mode, as he always does (which is the sole reason I call him with stuff like this). He always wants to be sure that I see what is really happening beneath the surface, so he tears situations apart and explains what each action/word/silence really means. Today, after his anaylsis, he analogized the situation to a basketball fast break. One person throws the ball to another, then that person throws it back, and the the first person drives it down the center and jams it in the basket. He said they were trying to pull a fast break on me today, but I slapped it down before it went into the goal. Sometimes you have to go up and take the ball and jam it on them before they can jam it on you, he said. Dad and I tend to analogize everything to something else. Don't know where that came from, but we've been doing it as long as I can remember and it makes life easier to understand.

Now, you must understand that for Dad and I, there is a applicable song lyric for almost everything that happens in life. Today's lyric was from Michael Jackson's "Jam" - "It ain't too hard for me to jam!".

Here's the rant: Not really a rant, but the song is stuck in my head. I've got a new theme song for the next couple of days. Thanks, Dad. :)

Lupus Sucks

Yesterday evening, when I stood up from my desk to go home, I wasn't sure my legs were going to take me to the car. They felt heavy and tired. And I found myself to be suddenly exhausted. Then my joints started to ache. My toes hurt when I put pressure on them. My hands hurt as I tried to finagle my keys. My hips felt mechanical. And I didn't feel like I had the energy to do anymore than sit back down. But hell if I was gonna stay at work feeling like that! So I made my way home. I felt like I was pushing my car the whole way there.

Matilda met me at the door with her usual excited self and I didn't have the energy or strength to bend down and greet her. She followed me up the steps and into the bed. We stayed there for about 30 minutes and then I mustered the energy to take her out before I decided to call it a night.

I live for Thursday night television. I'm a huge fan of Ugly Betty, Grey's Anatomy, and ER. Last night, I was asleep before 8:15.

Today, I'm feeling a bit better, but am starting to get that exhausted feeling again. I'm supposed to have a date tonight in Baltimore, but I'm not sure I'm gonna make it.

Here's the rant: LUPUS SUCKS. That is all.

My Sentiments Exactly

I'm about to head out for lunch, but as always, I check my blogs to see if maybe, by some act of God, I've gotten any comments on any of my postings. Thankfully, today, my new friend at Dabble Dabble Do visited both of my blogs and left me a comment.

I am echoing another SITSter today in my post. My friend at I Used to Be Witty said that she loves comments because it lets her know that she's not just entertaining the voices in her head. I, too, love comments, but my friends, family, and followers (that is, if I have any followers that aren't friends and family) just seem to read my postings, chuckle to themselves, and move on. No one ever takes the time to comment. Honestly, I don't even know if they chuckle.

Here's the rant: Why won't y'all comment? I know it takes a little more effort than picking up the phone, but please, I'm trying to build something here. And if you don't want to actually string some words together and write a comment, at least check off one of the reaction boxes after the post. Please comment. I, like most people, enjoy immediate gratification. Your comments will get me through while I'm working on my big writing project that you will not find on either of my blogs.

Post Thanksgiving

My Thanksgiving was fabulous, thanks for asking. I hope your holiday was equally as fabulous.

The days following Thanksgiving were also quite noteworthy. I had a couple of visitors this weekend that brought much joy into my home. Yes, my girl and her daughter visited despite the uncaught mouse (who, by the way, has not been seen since the sugar cookie and peanut butter incident). She is truly my friend. We didn't do anything special. Sat around watching tv and taking naps mostly. But time with my friend in the same geographic space is a precious thing these days, so her visit brought me a lot of joy.

This morning, I went to my men's group breakfast. Well, it's not really a group. It's just two men - the Minister, the Lawyer, and then there's me. I always envied the old men that would get together in the morning at the local McDonald's. It was the camaraderie that they had that was the most appealing to me. I kind of tripped across this "group" and was going at least three times a week for awhile. Then work picked up and I just didn't have the time or energy to get to breakfast and get to work by a reasonable time. I didn't go to work today, so I seized the opportunity to reconnect with the men.

The Lawyer had to eat and run because he had court this morning. So for most of the meal, it was just The Minister and me. It seemed I hadn't missed out on much during my extended absence. At one point, a woman from the next table came over to speak to The Minister. She had silvery gray hair and small eyes that seemed to squint at me the entire time she was talking. She was decked out in all of her holiday finery. She was layered in red and green sweaters, topped off with a silk scarf covered in Santas tied around her neck. Her coat was donned with a 2nd grade art project - a Christmas tree made of iridescent red and green plastic beads and connected to a safety pin. Her earrings were made in the same arts and crafts class, but these were brightly colored sequins on a red felt backing. I couldn't figure out how they were connected to her ears.

She began to talk, and almost instantly The Minister shot me a look. In about thirty seconds, I understood why. I had never met this woman before, but she began to regale me with her life story. She told me how she was married and had two children, and at some point "he left me [her] for a woman that had syphilis, the slut". It was at about that point when The Minister excused himself and went to the restroom. He had obviously heard this all before.

She went on to tell me how she raised her two children and her grandson, and now, for some unknown reason, they wanted nothing to do with her. She wrote her final letter to them this weekend and was going to "give it to the Lord and leave it there". When she was pregnant with her son, her belly was completely purple. The doctors later told her she had cancer and had had it for 10 years. The doctors said that "they hoped the child would be born somewhere between the syphilis and the cancer, and that it would turn out to be healthy". Apparently, her father favored her two brothers and treated her like an afterthought. The boys got cars when they turned 16 and she got married off. Her father left one of her brothers $100,000 and she got nothing. "My life has been filled with the wrong men", she told me. I couldn't argue with that. But with the way she went on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, I'm sure that those men thought she was the wrong woman. Now, to be fair, there was obviously a missing mental health diagnosis, but good Lord! Her twenty minutes of disconnected and random rambling ended with, "but thanks to The Minister and his church, I am much better now. I just give it to the Lord".

Here's the rant: Well, I don't really have one. I just thought this was a funny story. But if I had to come up with one, it would be ... Who tells a complete stranger their complete life story?! And why do complete strangers just start talking to you out of the blue? My sister thinks it's a small town thing. I like to call it her Small Town Theory of Chatty Cathys. While we were at home this weekend, my sister got bombarded by a woman in the waiting room of the local mechanic's. After waiting an hour for her car, my sister knew the woman's name (Wendy), her child's name (Sydney), what was wrong with the woman's car, had heard the child's Bible recitation for the upcoming pageant, and had weaseled lots of information out of my sister like her name, what she does, where she lives, and what was wrong with her car. Her situation was a bit different because the woman was more inquisitive than anything, which made my sister a bit nervous. My woman just couldn't shut up.

Not really a rant. More of a Seinfeldian observation.

Post Script: About 10 minutes after I initially posted this, my girl sent me a series of text messages about her experience on a plane that she had just boarded.

• "This lady just moved so she could to talk to me. Y?!"
• The lady's "hubby calls every 10-14 days". He's in Iraq.
• The woman told her about two babies she knows that were damaged during birth because they were pulled out by the neck.
• "She had a hpv positive pap. Y do I know that?"
• The woman lives in Texas, but is from San Francisco.

There goes my sister's Small Town Theory of Chatty Cathys.