So, it's New Year Eve

But I've already written my piece about that.

I have one of those nagging things on my mind...simply because a Christmas card fell from where it was tapped up. It bothers me because it made me think of something else that once fell from my wall. I had a memento, from my grandfather's funeral, hanging on the wall of my bedroom. It had been there for quiet some time. Then one day it fell. Mom replaced it several times and it continued to fall off the wall. Mom gave up trying to replace it and laid it on top of my dresser. A few days later my other grandfather, my mom's dad, died. The memento never went back on the wall.

So tonight when the card fell, I had a bad feeling. The card is exactly where it landed. I haven't tried to put it back up. If it were to fall again...

End of...

2012 is slowly winding down.

It has not been one of my best years, nor has it been one of my worst.

I lost a job, but found one I like better...only to be sold to another company before even making it out of orientation. I start with them January 1. I am a bit concerned about the outcome...only the new year will tell. I need to not be so emotionally invested in my job.

In the new year, 13 friends are heading to Mexico. Hopefully, 13 friends will return from Mexico. It isn't 24/7, but it is close.

It appears, about mid-year, 2013 will bring us another grandchild.

I hope for the new year...

for everyone to be happily, and steadily, employed.
to have an amazing vacation with my husband, non-biological family and friends.
that my eldest son can find the house he's shopping for, to make a home of his own.
to have a healthy grandson/daughter.
that the people I love will be healthy and happy. If they can not have want they want, that they have what they need...and the knowledge to know the difference. And most of all, may they..and I, find contentment.

Confrontational

I hate when someone says something that I find offensive, and I am really sure they did not mean to offend. Today, that comment was made while a mother was admiring the terrific adult that their child had become.  A great sentiment, no doubt. Except the mom said, "I figured, given my parenting, she'd be goth or something." This implies that there is something wrong with being goth. It is so hard for me not to ask, "Would it be so terrible is she were goth and still a great human being?" I would find this statement offensive if she'd used a lot of different words there...republican, democrat, atheist, Christian. She made a statement that she figured the child would go wrong and threw a group of people to the wolves as an example. This bothers me. This was a written statement in a public forum. Which makes it even worse, to me. Maybe because writing gives a person a better opportunity to carefully measure and select their words. I don't want to call her out and make her uncomfortable. I don't even know her that well and I really do not think that she meant a slight to my goth friends. Contrary to popular belief, I am not always confrontational. That is why I have a blog, so that I can rant and rave and get things off my chest without causing harm to others.

But in the process of writing this, I have tried to rephrase that statement into something acceptable and find myself inserting...

crazy
homeless
bum
druggie
alcoholic

These all seem like better "bad" options. These words are generally accepted as being bad...but they are still people. Is it okay because they are less...what? Socially valued? Goths are not socially valued by all, neither are atheist...or Republicans?

I guess it all depends on the angle in which you are viewing life and what you value.

Christmas 2012

Here I sit, alone, on Christmas Eve. The family has wandered off to bed or other pursuits. My tree is lit up all bright, with a few remaining gifts set beneath it. I am reminded of Christmases (As wrong as that looks, I checked, that is the proper plural of Christmas) past. Maybe it was watching the last half of A Christmas Carol. Anyway...

When my children were small, Santa did not wrap Christmas presents. An old friend and I once discussed this...apparently traditions are different about whether they are wrapped or not. So anyway, again...once the boys were tucked securely into bed and all possible water and potty excuses were exhausted, we would set about assembling and displaying around the tree. Then my husband would head off to bed, much like tonight, and I would sleep on the couch to protect the loot. The boys would rise at the crack of dawn, but they were not allowed in the living room until Daddy was present.

Those were fun years...though I will gladly climb into my nice warm bed tonight.

Well, since I have done Christmas past, why not Christmas present? Or maybe Christmas presents. I miss gifts. Not the actual getting, but the mystery and the anticipation. My husband and I have stopped trying to guess what the other wants. We now plan a yearly vacation and call it a year.

And like Scrooge, I fear the spirit of what is yet to be the most. There are many things we can not change, no matter how we keep the Christmas spirit in our hearts.

But on to bigger and better things...

It is almost Christmas Day. I wish everyone a happy heart, the company of family and friends and most of all contentment.

Merry Christmas

Lost stories

I have been searching my blog for once told stories, I know I have written these things...or thought I had. So either my mind has wandered further afield than I thought or the search engine sucks.

I was looking for my version of the Night before Christmas and the story of Christmas Adam.

Alas neither are to be found. =(

Violence

We've had two more mass shootings recently. The one at the elementary school is just beyond belief. So many lives lost...so many children. There are so many thoughts and emotions running around inside my head...anger, grief, frustration, shock, disbelief. Heartache. Surely, everyone feels that. There are so many feelings and thoughts I could explore, but since I don't want to sit here in an emotional basket, I'm going to address something that annoys me. Blaming the parents. How can someone say the parents are to blame? Maybe it's because I have dealt too personally with people with mental issues...and it is the people closest that should be able to see, but are the least likely to believe, a person capable of such atrocities. The emotional attachments color what you see in their behavior. As I said, this comes from experience. And it isn't that you think that person is perfect, noooo, you know they are broken, but they'd never...until they do.

I am a mom. I had parents. My parents tried to raise me right, as I did my children. I'd guess most people would agree that their parents tried. But how many can say that they never, ever, did anything that their parents would have disapproved of? Never? Really? If not, you have lived a very sheltered life, or your parents were really liberal. I have to snicker at that comment, now that I think about it...my grandmother threw a fit because I went to Sunday school at a Baptist church when WE were Catholic. It seems it's an adult's job to disapprove of children's behavior and it is a child's job to test the limits of their imposed boundaries. If parents had absolute control of their children's behavior the world would be a perfect place full of quiet, polite, people. The world would be a dull place and we'd still be living in the stone age.

You can blame a parent when a toddler is running rampant in a restaurant. That parent should exercise control and teach the child preferred behavior. But once a child hits a certain age, where independence and freedom from constant supervision is reached, a parent can only hope that what they have taught their child will prevail in decision making.

I will also add that it is not easy to get help with mental health issues. Being a nurse, I have seen this from the inside. It is difficult to get a child into inpatient care. There are not enough beds. In emergency situations, read that as life threatening, I have seen them put a kid on a mattress, on the floor. Not an ideal situation. I hate to make the comparison, but a child in a psych facility is like have a petty criminal in prison. They learn from the more experienced and mimic their peers. As an adult, the situation is not much better. It is very difficult to have an adult committed against their will. And when you do, it's usually only for 72 hours.

I don't have the answers. There are no easy answers. There is also no easy culprit. You can't blame the gun, it's an inanimate object, a paperweight, until held in a hand. And on that note, I will say there is a difference in gun control and gun banishment. Every argument I hear, sounds like they are the same. Maybe it is the violence in today's entertainment. But there were killers long before video games. I just get tired of hearing the parents getting the blame. One of the things I do blame, is news. There is no quicker way to get famous, infamous maybe...but do they care about the difference? Their name and face are spread around the globe. I can't help visualizing some disturbed kid, sitting alone, thinking, they'll all know who I am when I am done. They'll all know my name. They'll never forget. The news needs to quit making these killers into celebrities.

Odd thoughts

I sometimes think I have odd thoughts, or go about looking at stuff from bizarre angles. A good example of this might be my thoughts about my blanket. Yes, blanket...that warm thing you sleep under. But there is the rub. The blanket is not warm, unless it's electric. A blanket on a bed has no warmth, it's just a piece of cloth. If it was warm, the sheets wouldn't be so cold when you slide in. What is warm, is you. The blanket simply traps that heat to keep you warm. This, is what I think about while snuggled down in bed waiting for sleep.

Odd?

I'm going to whine

.

^^^That period is all that was left when I deleted the entire post that went along with that title.

I wrote a paragraph and decided I didn't want to write about that. No whining, bellyaching, crying or other forms of mournful blustering. For all the little annoyances and a few slightly larger ones, life is good. Not perfect. Nobody ever promised perfect, except maybe in fairy tales, but, then, I've always been more a Grimm's type of girl.


I feel a need to write. What part of me needs to be examined, or is it just boredom? So here I am debating subjects. Searching my brain for those little sparks that have yet to be explored. Unfortunately, those tiny bits of ideas die quickly in the forward rush of everyday life if not set down someplace for safekeeping.

I need to find my sense of humor first. That is when I like to write, when something is tickling my bizarre sense of amusement.

Not tonight apparently.

Popular is bad?

I've had a thought pinging around inside my head recently and I can't quite...think it through. So, here I am, putting fingers to keyboard.

It seems to me, that when something becomes wildly popular, there are certain people (a certain group, type, mindset?) that feel the need to ridicule it. Several things come to mind. I have always been confused by the hatred of Nickleback. Typically, you either like or dislike music. Buy it or not. But there seems to be a group of people that feel the need to express their hatred of the band...vehemently. And as best as I can tell, it isn't based on anything.

Next is the Twilight series. Yes, I read them. All four of them, back to back, in 11 days. They are fluff. Easy reads, written for adolescent girls. I do not like the idea of sparkly vampires, it goes against everything I think of when it comes to a vampire. There were times when Bella became so needy and annoying I wanted to strangle her. And I actually threw one of the books down with annoyance...but I finished it. I have even watched the movies, even after how horrible the first one was. Twilight is not the only fluff books I have read...nor has it been the worst movies. Twilight has a huge following and therefore it has haters. Again, I don't quite understand the vehemence. Nobody is making you read the books or watch the movies. Do you feel smarter because you have not succumbed to the fluff? Do you need to take a stand to prove you are smarter than the average teenage girl?

There are others, but I think you get my point.

You know, if you feel the need to climb up on a soap box to declare your outrage, to prove your intellect or to redirect society, I think you could find a more suitable topic to expend your energy on.

It's all about focus.

I feel better.

It isn't always age

A few years ago I was diagnosed with a vitamin D deficiency.  This seems to be pretty rampant. Why? Vitamin D is manufactured in our bodies, for the most part, from being in the sun. We don't spend enough time in the sun, and when we do, we sunscreen, because we've been told that sun is bad.  So is a lack of vitamin D...but not as bad as skin cancer. Now, I know when my D level is sliding, because I recognize the symptoms. I get pain in my legs. The pain, I had previously blamed on work...and age. I took prescription strength Vitamin D until my levels reached normal. Now, I take a daily OTC supplement.

I went to the doctor the other day for a check-up. I mentioned how fatigued I'd been feeling. Not sleepy. Not tired. Just disinterested in doing anything. She asked about depression. I had already examined that option, as disinterest in things you normally enjoy, is a definition of depression. Nope, I said, not depressed. I am perfectly happy...not doing anything. This goes against my personality. I am not generally happy being still. I had considered a lot of options other than depression; new job, frequent changes, stress and of course, age. Sorry, but as you get older, you start hearing it used as an excuse for everything. Fortunately, for me, I have a good doctor, she knows me and she listens. She did some lab work and my B12 level was low. Research ensued, because, well, that is how I am. And I learned something that could probably be as prevalent as the Vitamin D deficiency. B12 is in food, almost exclusively in meat. Smart vegans/vegetarians should be supplementing their diets. B12 is released and absorbed when the acid in our stomachs breaks the meat down. Two problems here; tons of people are on medications to reduce stomach acid, me included, and as we age (there is that dirty word again) we produce less stomach acid. Guess that proves I am not old, since I still have to take medication to reduce the stomach acid. Ha!
Lack of B12 can produce a lot of issues:

Diarrhea

Fatigue

Numbness of the extremities

Sore mouth

Loss of appetite

Nausea

Cessation of menstruation

Confusion

Memory loss

Hallucinations

Disorientation

Anemia

Nervousness

Behavioral changes

Enlarged mucus membranes

One article I read, said a lot of people attribute their symptoms to aging. Big surprise. There is even speculation, that some people diagnosed with dementia, may actually be suffering from B12 deficiency. 

Besides my fatigue, I have also felt over anxious the last few months, something I blamed on the new job. But it wasn't going away as I settled in. I'm hoping it will dissipate along with my fatigue. I haven't found a clear answer on how long it will take to feel better, it seems 7-60 days. I guess it depends on just how low my levels were...my doctor was not specific. I guess I can be grateful at the lack of hallucinations and enlarged mucus membranes.

To Whom it May Concern,

I signed papers yesterday allowing you to snoop into my life, "by any means deemed necessary" to prove my worthiness to continue at my job because my company sold me to you. So if you find this little piece of me, I want to say a few things.

I guess, first and foremost, you can't take me at face value. Things are not always what they seem. In my world, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and sounds like a duck, it may very well be a firetruck. Sometimes, I don't want people knowing what I am talking about...or looking too closely at my firetruck. No, I am not crazy. I have a vivid imagination...and I'm not afraid to use it.

I am fluent in sarcasm and I use it liberally. To make a point...or not.

I have a sense of humor, whether you understand it or not. I can laugh or I can cry...personally, I prefer to laugh.

I get angry and frustrated sometimes. This is my place to blow off steam. I may use any or all of the above in doing so. What I don't do, is trash talk. You will never see a proper noun to go along with my rants. The proper place for the name of my employer is on my paycheck and my resume...and appropriate professional websites.

And sometimes, I'm boring.

But, I work hard. I am proud of what I do. And I always do my very best. And I am hoping that we will have a mutually satisfying relationship for many years to come...as I have many years until retirement.

I'm going to tell a secret

I woke last night in a bit of a panic. I was twisted in my blanket and something...I think a pillow, was in my face. Too close. I came awake...fighting to get away. I'm a bit claustrophobic. A bit, um hum...a bit; fighting, clawing, scratching, biting, freaking claustrophobic. At least, I guess this would fall under claustrophobia, I am a little uncomfortable in tight spaces...like the MRI. But I can manage it, unmedicated even. I close my eyes, breathe deep, and try to not touch the sides that indicate the limitations of the space. But I have never done well with stuff, or even people, in my face. I can usually extricate myself quickly from such a situation. It does not go well when I can't...did I mention kicking? It takes extreme circumstances, like sleeping outside in the middle of winter, to be able to even pull a cover over my head. Even then I try to keep a space open...for air. I can't breathe when the air becomes stuffy...warm. It is so suffocating. That is how I woke, something too close to my face, suffocating me. Unable to move, because I was tangled, trapped. I woke, ready to fight...since I couldn't flee.

Adrenaline is not good when you want to go back to sleep.

Blogging

I went back and was reading some old entries. When I started this blog, I fully intended it would be anonymous. That allowed me to express some things that I might not otherwise divulge. Honestly, since my blog became public, I have deleted a few entries. There are some things you just can't share. There are still a few entries that are very personal to me...things other people might read and never know how bare my soul feels when I read those same words. But for some reason I feel an attachment to the words that will not allow me to delete them. Maybe I need to be reminded. Maybe they are issues that still need work. Maybe, one day, the words won't sting the vulnerable parts.


Maybe one day...

So many wrongs, one right

Power corrupts.

It is the first thing that comes to mind when I consider the impending presidential election. Don't worry, this will not be a spin campaign for one of the candidates or a smear campaign against the other. I'll leave that mess to the individuals that get paid big bucks to bend, twist and distort reality.

I wish integrity would find it's way back into government. I jokingly suggested that the candidates be connected to lie detectors during the debate...wouldn't it be nice if you knew you could make an educated decision based on facts?

I am disgusted about the amount of money spent on the campaigns. It is obscene...especially when so many people are struggling to stay afloat. Wouldn't people still vote for a president without spending millions of dollars? If both campaigns were limited to a equal dollar amount, would it make a difference?

When did winning become more important than people? You know, those people, the ones voting. So much fighting. So many power plays. Such division. Instead of asking, what is best for our country? They ask, what do I, or the party, want? I sometimes think they disagree just to test their power. I'll show you.

And stupidity. How can educated people be so stupid? Some of the stuff that comes out of their mouths...

I'll be glad when the election is over. I'm not expecting much, no matter who wins. They are so insulated, isolated and polarized. They have no clue what it is like to live in the real world where actions have consequences, trust is an issue, money is limited and nobody is constantly whispering in your ear seeking favor.

The one right in all this? The right to vote. To live in a country where choice is an option.

I just wish I could  feel confident about my choice. I wish I could make a commitment based on truth, honesty, knowledge and vision.

Happy birthday

We all have them. Some of us lie about them. Some of us celebrate them. There are lots of way to celebrate. Some do it quietly. Some throw outrageous parties. Some have amazing friends...but that's a different story.

There is one tradition in the whole birthday celebrating thing that bothers me. It is one of those things that most people don't seem to think about. Blowing out the candles...on the cake. Usually that entails blowing all over the cake. I am not sure I like the idea of someone blowing across my food. Yes, I know it's weird and it should not be a big deal. But what it the birthday celebrant is coming down with something? A little cold with your cake? Or worse, when it's a child blowing out all those candles, because I dislike someone else's spit on my food even more.

Another one for the gross file. You're welcome.

Writing

I used to make an entry almost daily. I would sit and purposely think about subjects. It bothers me when I realize weeks have gone by without writing. I wonder if I write more or less when life is good, bad or indifferent. I think about writing all the time. I compose in my mind, but always when my computer is not readily available. Then, later, it is forgotten. Maybe that is when, or why, I don't write...when life is busy or I am distracted. I really do need to be more committed. Writing makes me happy. It helps me focus. I even occasionally amuse myself.

What you see

I can't speak for every woman over 50...

or over 40, for that fact.

I can only speak for myself, but I bet a lot of those women would agree with me.

What you see is totally different than how I feel.

You see where I am soft. You see a shape, that is out of shape. You see where I am slower. You see the lines on my face. You see me and think old.

I still feel desire. I still feel vibrant. I still feel alive.
I still want to party. I still want to celebrate. I still want to be loved.
I think I can keep up. I think I can participate. I think I can achieve.
I have not mellowed. I have not given up. I have not disappeared.

I am not always happy with what I see in the mirror. But in my head, I still have possibilities.

Don't dismiss me. I might surprise you.

A rose by any other name

About the time my grandson was born, people asked me what he was going to call me. I thought this an odd question. I just figured he would decide what he'd call me, kind of, as we went along. I mean the choices are sort of limited. I grew up with a grandma and a mamaw, even though mamaw was not related by blood...neither were a lot of my aunts. There is nana, which I always thought was made up by somebody that didn't want to be called grandma. And we'll just veto granny. It did not occur to me that I would need to pick a name to refer to myself. With my kids it was automatic to say, "Give it to momma."

Well this weekend, it was confirmed that he has indeed picked a name. I am....

Her.

I wasn't sure about this until we played 'name the family' at his birthday party. He would point, and ask, "Who that?" I would answer. Then my husband pointed at me and asked Hunter, "Who is that?" Hunter responded, "Her."

Quit laughing.

I know where it comes from. I say, "Go get papaw." The husband says, you got it, "Go get her."

It's sweet and adorable. He's two and doesn't know better. I wonder how long I'll be her.

Habits

I occasionally find myself stopping in the middle of doing an ordinary thing and just having to think about it. Not the, how to, but the why, often catches my attention. I know that we do many things the way we learned to do them, the way we seen them done...they become habits that we seldom examine. Seldom, that is, until that one moment when what I am doing catches my attention.

This morning I stopped as I was preparing to brush my teeth. What caught my attention, was the application of toothpaste to toothbrush.

More precisely, the bristles of my toothbrush as they brushed along the edge of the tube.

My toothbrush has been in my mouth...obviously. Now, I don't share my toothpaste...I have my own bathroom, but I would say that is probably not the case in most homes.

I know a few people that wouldn't dare eat or drink after another person. I wonder if they share toothpaste?

Is there a better way to do this? How do you get that neat little flourish of toothpaste on the brush without physical contact between the two? Did I miss something in my upbringing? Am I missing a special toothpaste utensil? Have I just not mastered the use of gravity on a viscous product?

It wouldn't surprise me.



Maybe, at a later date, we'll discuss soap.

What if...

I found myself thinking about those pivotal moments in life when you make a decision and it has potentially life changing consequences. If you believe life is preordained you might argue that what is supposed to happen, will happen. I prefer to think that I have some control over the path I travel, especially if I have to pay the consequences for my actions.

There are several decisions that I wonder, if I'd gone down a different path, where I might be today.

I wonder how life would have changed if we had not bought our current house. There are lots of reasons to wonder about that. So much has happened here...not all of it good, but not all of it bad either.

I wonder where I would be if I'd applied for work at the hospital I actually intended to, instead of where I work now.

There is never, ever, a way of knowing. You can't go back. Life has changed you.

The thing that has been on my mind today involves a Halloween party...seemingly a trivial thing. A dozen, or so, people had gotten together at a mutual friend's house. Not everyone there knew each other. After the party, I mentioned to my husband that one of the men I'd talked to, was "Thanatos". My husband mentioned, much to my surprise, that he had talked to Thanatos many times online and wished he'd had the chance to meet him. That could have been the end of it...just a Halloween party and a random meeting of someone. But I sent a message the next day to Thanatos and he suggested we come to an event where he would be...and we did. That meeting has led to so many good things and has changed my life...our lives, beyond measure.

Just a random string of choices.

One of those forgotten memories...

I have no idea why it popped up.

At some point around the time I was, I'm thinking, about 14, my mom decided, for whatever reason, to switch our bedrooms. I was moved from the front bedroom to the back bedroom. Mom decided that it would not make sense to move the furniture, so we just moved our stuff. So I inherited my mom and dad's bookcase headboard...the one with the gun in it. I don't think anybody thought about it. Now days, that sounds absolutely crazy. I will tell you something else that's different...I did not feel the need to play with the gun. I could not have even told you if it was loaded or not. I found it, knew what it was...it was wrapped in a rag, and I left it alone. Then one night, my dad crept into my room to close my window. I woke to the sound of the window moving and the shape of a man standing in front of it, without my glasses, that was really all I could see. My dad's brain must have registered the location of of his handgun as he heard me quickly slide the compartment on the headboard open. He called out to me...and I think we both sighed in relief. I doubt either of us slept anytime soon after that adrenaline rush. He didn't move the gun, I think he was proud of my ability to take care of myself...but he didn't come into my room unannounced again. After that, if it started raining, I had to close my own window.

Hope

I hope one day to say something so astounding, so wise, so amazing, that it would be worthy of sharing or even held close to an individual's heart, that it might make a difference.

Small happiness's

We take things for granted everyday. I mean, we flip a wall switch and we expect the electricity to do whatever it does, even when we don't understand it, and the lights come on. Wala! I am just as guilty as the next person. We don't usually appreciate the little things...until the lights don't work.

There are a few things I find myself always grateful for...and I'm going to share. Because, well, as I have mentioned before...my blog.

Hot water. 

I am a water baby...no not Pieces or Aquarius. I love water. If I could grow gills, I would. I think being able to nap, completely submerged, in a tub of steamy water, would be heaven. Or to be able to dive, without the cumbersomeness of air tanks...to lay on the bottom and look UP and watch the sun stream through the water. But I wander from my topic...there are days when I will settle into water nearly hot enough to be scalding and for a little bit, all is right with my world. The muscles relax, the nerve endings are more concerned with the water temperature and my mind wanders freely...it washes away all that is wrong.

Air conditioning. 

Besides being wrapped in hot water, I don't like being hot. Every time I walk into a room that is artificially cooled for my comfort, I am grateful.

Alarm clock. 

Ahhh, you are all wrong. Even though we should be thankful for the invention that gets everybody to where they need to be on time...that is not what makes me grateful. What makes me blissfully happy, is every single night that I go to bed...and don't have to turn it ON. I swear, every night, I celebrate a little when I don't have to slide that switch to ON. And on a slightly off track happiness...I love the nights when I can go to bed because I am sleepy, and not because the clock indicates it's bedtime. Which happens to coincide with not having to set my alarm. Tonight would be one of those nights...and I am grateful and a bit sleepy.

That time of year

I think a lot about my parents this time of year. dad's birthday was in August, he died in September and mom died in October. I try not to mark the anniversaries but have found it nearly impossible to ignore them. I loved my dad, but had a difficult relationship with my mother. She was abusive, physically, verbally and emotionally. She told me once that she was jealous of me...who is jealous of their child? She was manipulative and when she couldn't manipulate me, she tried to control others that she thought could influence me...like me husband and sons. I was telling someone recently about "Hurricane Norma". She would go into my room and toss it...mattress pulled from the bed into the floor with all the bedding stripped because it wasn't made right. She would remove my clothes from the hangers and dump them all into the floor, because they were not organized properly. She would pull all the drawers out and turn them upside down, emptying them into the floor, then replace the drawer, because they were messy. So I would come home from school to this disaster and be told, "Now, clean it right." I never knew when the storm would blow through, or what set it off. It has been suggested to me that maybe she was searching my room and this is how she hid it. I guess it's a possibility. This started about the time I was in, maybe 5th grade...which was about the time she quit hitting me. I have also been asked if my dad knew about the abuse. I don't know. I never told him, or anybody else. I never asked him either. I don't know, it never occurred to me. It never ever occurred to me, that if he knew, why didn't he stop it? These are things other people have asked me after my parents died. It would have been very painful to admit to myself that my dad knew, and did nothing...it's also hard to imagine that he could have lived in the same house and not known what was happening. But then, I remember my mother showing the bruises to her sister once. I was probably around 8. I have no idea why she showed them to her, I only remember her pulling my shirt up...yes, I had bruises to my back...and buttocks and legs. Mom's aim wasn't so good. Yet, years later, while my mother was hospitalized, that same aunt asked why I did not have a good relationship with my mother and I mentioned the abuse, she flat out told me she did not believe me. One of the last things I remember my mom saying to me, as I bent to kiss her good-bye, was, "Get your ugly pig face away from me." Nice last memory, huh? I tried so hard to maintain a civil, if not loving relationship with her. I'm not sure why. I guess I did it for dad...now, I wonder if it was worth it. The best relationship I had with them was when they lived far enough away that I saw them once or twice a year...and even then, mom managed to show up at my house unannounced, with plans to stay a month, coinciding, and cancelling, my own vacation plans to take my kids camping. I've had people tell me that they would just have gone on with their plans...they didn't know my mother. No matter how old you get, you never outgrow the scars of your childhood, especially when they've been inflicted by the very people that should have been protecting you.

Words...my favorite subject

Have you ever had the bejesus scared out of you? Probably...it's a common phrase. But have you ever wondered what a bejesus was?

Dictionary.com says: An exclamation traditionally attributed to the Irish, used to express surprise or for emphasis.

Um, yeah that was helpful. It does not tell me what a bejesus is and if I have one that can be scared out of me, I want to know what it is.

Further research shows that the origin of bejesus is an alteration of by Jesus. So I can have Jesus scared out of me? Or am I scared by Jesus?

This is one of the few times I have looked into something and not been any wiser for the effort.

Second word of the day: whippersnapper. 

This is one, I think, most people understand.

Dictionary.com says: A young and inexperienced person considered to be presumptuous or overconfident.

No surprise. But why does it mean that? Apparently, that's a good question...and there does not seem to be a good answer. I found a number of different answers, but mostly it seems to come down to the fact that the term is archaic.

You'll have to look that one up on your own. I am feeling a little disillusioned at the moment.

Lest I should forget

Prednisone is NOT the answer...no matter the question.

Prescribed for a back injury, that felt better almost immediately. Good.

Withdrawal from the medication, even after weaning as prescribed. Bad.

Never again.

Telemarketers

In case you've ever wondered about reporting telemarketers...

I finally got fed up with a telemarketer that kept calling my cell phone and disconnecting without saying anything. I got online, did a little research and filed a complaint. It was simple to do, especially with caller ID providing the phone number and my cell recording the time/date stamp of each call. This is the response I received via email:

Dear Consumer:

Re: Case # xxxxxxxxxx

Thank you for contacting the FCC regarding possible violations of the Telephone Consumer Protection Act (“TCPA”) and the Commission’s telemarketing and junk fax rules.   Information provided in consumer complaints like yours helps the Commission to combat abusive or unlawful practices in these areas, including taking enforcement actions against individuals or companies. In this regard, the Communications Act authorizes the Commission to issue citations and, in some cases, impose substantial fines upon entities that violate telemarketing and junk fax rules. 

Although the Commission does not resolve individual complaints, each complaint is individually analyzed and assists us in enforcement actions to protect consumers like yourself.  You should be aware that the TCPA also provides for enforcement of the telemarketing and junk fax rules by state attorneys general and by individual consumers.  With respect to the latter, the TCPA permits individuals who have received certain unlawful telemarketing, such as junk faxes or telemarketing calls, to sue the violator in state courts where they may be awarded up to $1500 for each violation. 

We invite you to visit the FCC’s Consumer & Governmental Affairs Bureau’s Internet web site at http://www.fcc.gov/cgb for more information. You may also call the FCC’s Consumer Center toll free at 1-888-CALL-FCC [1-888-225-5322], TTY: 1-888-TELL-FCC [1-888-835-5322]. 

Sincerely,

Sharon C. Bowers, Division Chief
Consumer Inquiries & Complaints Division
Consumer & Governmental Affairs Bureau

So now you know.

A character story

I ran across this today while looking for something else. I have written previously about LARPing. When you start in a game, you design a character. This is the original write up for one of those characters...the bones of who she is, where she is from and her motivations. I played this character opposite a good friend that was playing the brother I was traveling with. The characters were a collaboration, but the write ups were written individually. That is why Aros' brother's name is not mentioned...I don't think he had one yet.

My name is Allura Kaj, I was raised in a small enclave not far from Shonar. My father, was a merchant, a wealthy merchant it seems, once he married my mother. I was their second and last child, since my mother died bringing me into this world. I know very little of my mother. Her name was Amrona Kaj. I never met her family, and very seldom was she spoke of in our home. What I knew of her, was discovered in dusty corners and whispers overheard between household staff. My brother, Garnett, was 10 when I was born and he always blamed me for her death. I guess it\'s reasonable to say we were never close. He avoided me whenever possible, often following our father to work. My father, Elim Ander, traded goods among the clans, providing people with those things they could not secure themselves, he dealt with many of the local craftsmen. We lived comfortably and entertained lavishly. He was always shown respect by the visitors to our home. My father employed a teacher as soon as it was thought I was old enough to learn. He often told me it was important that I be educated, so that I could become a proper gentleman’s wife. I had other ideas about what life held for me. I often snuck away from home. I could be found exploring the local woods or in the bazaar, listening to the stories from those that frequented the stalls. I would climb to a vantage point above the market and just watch the people. I knew what everyone was doing, knew their secrets, knew the thieves and eventually could spot the victims before they’d even been hit. I learned everything I could. I became a student of human nature.  
 
Then one evening, at one of my father’s parties, I overheard him speaking to a long time business associate of his. The elderly man was in need of a wife, he and my father were discussing my availability to fill that position. This would be a beneficial business arrangement for them both. It seemed I was to be bartered for, much like anything else my father owned. I left home that night, my pockets heavy with the better pieces of my mother’s jewelry and her family’s name. I considered it my inheritance, since I knew I’d never see it any other way. I once heard my father was in a nearby town asking after me. You learn to hear these things even from a distance. I wondered if he worried for his only daughter. I suspect, more likely, he was upset that I had interfered with his business arrangements, or perhaps he was looking for the jewels I had hidden away.  
 
It did not take me long to realize that I was crafty enough to survive on my own. My studies, those from my teacher and those in the markets, served me well. It is easy to make coin telling futures, who can contest what you say? I used people’s fears against them. I have worked in many capacities, not all of them legal. I have protected travelers, and I have robbed them. I will state however, that I have never killed another, at least one that didn’t deserve it. Once I give my word I am true to my allegiances, which can be bought. I do not like going hungry or sleeping on the ground. I spent a few years moving from town to town through the woodlands, avoiding attention as much as possible. Then I met Aros, literally running into him in an alleyway. He never asked why I was running in an alley at night, cloaked in black. I never asked about the pouch he swiftly hid in his jacket. It just seemed to be an unspoken agreement from the beginning....don't ask.  
 
I do not know why I trusted him. There was something about the way he looked at me. We accepted each other on face value, found each other's company agreeable and offered something the other lacked. We settled into his cottage at the edge of the clan's land. We spent our days apart, never asking how the other spent their time. I knew he shared a business with a brother I never met. He occasionally talked about some of the people that he had dealings with, but never by name or what their associations were. Some of them were very powerful, and it seemed Aros was in a position to know their secrets. We shared our nights, except when he traveled for business, then we celebrated his homecoming. We were happy until a year later. Aros was traveling, but this time he did not return home as expected. Word soon came to my door that he had been slain at the hands of another. 
 
Reluctantly, I sought out his brother, to discuss info I thought might lead to those responsible. Something that Aros had said had made me uncomfortable because he had seemed nervous about it. Aros had told me that he held a secret on a dangerous man, but he would not tell me any details. I needed more than I had, and thought his brother might know more. They shared a business and spent their days and many of the travels together. I thought perhaps he had confided in him. I did not know if he would see me. He had never cast shadow upon my home, and I assumed he had not approved of me. I almost left without knocking. When he opened the door I thought I was seeing a ghost. I stood there staring. The way he looked at me, I thought perhaps I was to be blamed, once more, for a death I could not prevent. But he invited me to the fire and we spoke long into the night. He felt certain he knew who had murdered his brother. There had been a misunderstanding with a client, things had gone badly. He had already spoken to those that traded in information, and the one that he blamed had left for the wildlands. He stated his intentions to follow him and claim the vengeance that was his right. I reminded him that the right was mine. We argued, but eventually agreed to travel together into the wildlands. He agreed the right was mine, unless he got there first. 
 
Unknown to us we were chasing after the wrong person. After we left our homelands, the true killer, a very powerful nobleman, stepped forward with evidence pointing to a conspiracy between myself and Aros’ brother to kill him and claim the business fortunes for ourselves. Now it appeared that instead of seeking justice, we had fled from it.

I have written up a number of characters over the years I have been doing this. I am actually surprised at how many years it has been...I'm guessing maybe 10-12 years, I don't remember exactly when it started. The first character was Masiah, she lived a long time. Then there was Quinn Nightshade in a different game. I probably got to know her more, integrated her more, than any other character. She was strong and willful...and somewhat rude and clueless about the rules of society. I expected her to die quickly...she ended up ruling the city. There has been Allura Kaj, above, Storm Diego and Raven. They all feel like people I know, friends...pieces of myself.

Chick-fil-a

I find myself, again, writing on a controversial subject. Not so much because my opinion matters, but to work out some of the conflicting ideas I have in myself.

1. I have no issue with marriage between two people of the same gender. If two people love each other and want to make a spiritual and emotional commitment, why not allow them to make it legal?

2. There have been wars fought to keep our freedoms...one of those basic rights is, freedom of speech.

3. I RESPECT PEOPLE THAT STAND UP FOR WHAT THEY BELIEVE IN. (Cap lock accidentally, but seems important).

Therein lies my mental struggle. I don't have to agree with you, but you still have the right to say it. I am sure there are other business owners that agree with, Chick-fil-a president, Dan Cathy's stand. They are sitting back quietly hoping nobody will notice them, because taking a stand is controversial and potentially bad for business. So they go along to get along. It's the smart businessman thing to do. I will note here also, that several companies have come out in support of gay marriage, most notably Target, Starbucks and Amazon. And just why is it, do you think, that you don't hear about that? These companies are not little Mom and Pop local businesses...and yes there has been a call to boycott Starbucks, but nothing like the furor caused by Chick-fil-a. I have to wonder, as I have before, if media isn't driving us.

I have to stop here a moment for a bit of education. Mr. Cathy has taken a public stand against gay marriage based on the biblical definition of marriage. So what does that mean? I am not an expert, but I can give a brief overview...No sex outside of marriage. No divorce, except for adultery. The wife must submit to the husband in all things. The husband is to protect and provide for his family, putting the family's needs first. This is the basic idea of marriage as outlined in the Bible. So before you step up to support Cathy, take a look at your own home and ask if you meet his standards.

So what conclusions have I drawn? I still believe in two people's right to make a public, and official, declaration of commitment. I still believe in the right to form and express an opinion...hopefully, an educated one. I still believe in the right to stand up for what you believe in. I also believe that you have to face the consequences for your actions. I also detest when the actions of one causes problems for many, especially when the many have little or nothing to do with the actions of one. Many Chick-fil-a's are franchises, owned not by the company, but by individuals...people that had nothing to do with Cathy's stand. These are the local Mom and Pop's trying to put food on the family dinner table. They may or may not agree with the company's stand...how do you know? I'd bet there are even franchises owned by gays...oh what a mess that has to be.

And here again, I had to stop, time for a little self education. See, I believe in making decisions based on knowledge, at least as best as I can understand the information that I can find. And what I found after doing a little digging...Chick-fil-a exceeds $2 billion in annual sales and a whopping 50% of net profits from the franchise goes back to the corporation. So, yes, taking a stand and boycotting Chick-fil-a may indeed send a message. But what is that message? Take a stand for what you believe in. But that is exactly what he did. And sometimes you just have to agree to disagree. No minds will be changed over a chicken sandwich and waffle fries. But if you are going to take a stand against Chick-fil-a because he was bold enough to exercise his right to freedom of speech and spoke his beliefs, then know where other companies stand and support those that agree with you. Skip Chick-fil-a and head over to Starbucks.

And in the end, it all comes down to this, for every $1 spent at Chick-fil-a, 50 cents goes to the owner of the store and 50 cents goes to the corporation...and some portion of that is going to support an anti-gay group.

All of that just to decide where to get my chicken sandwich.

Colorado

I've taken a few days to let all of this percolate through my brain...the shooting at the Colorado theater. People are killed by violence everyday, even sometimes in multiples. It makes the news, it passes through our thoughts and we move on. So why do incidents like this shooting at the premiere of Dark Knight Rises resonate with the public consciousness? Why are we still considering it days later? Besides, of course, the never ending news coverage. I don't think it's the senselessness or the violence. Or the why? I think it's the vulnerability. You are not safe. Anywhere. 

I have read a lot about the story on news media and social networks. Reading people's thoughts and reactions. It always amazes me that people will express an opinion, when it is obvious from their statements, that they have no clue as to what happened. Are they not paying attention, or just jumping to a conclusion...or do they just twist the events to meet their needs to be judgmental? 

I have seen many comments made about the people that dressed in costume for the movie. Most of them negative. Not that the people in costume had anything to do with the shooting. I've seen it reported that the owner's of the theater are going to ban costumes. My first thought was, define costume. If I want to wear all black to a vampire movie, is that a costume? Or are they going to ask me to open my mouth so they can check for fangs? Because my fangs are so dangerous. What about a purple wig to Hunger Games? I can, sort of, understand the concern about masks...but from what I have read, none of this had anything to do with the shooting. 

I have read many comments from people, that at least claim, to have a concealed carry permit. They grouse that they can't carry their guns into the theater. They state they since they have a carry permit they should be allowed to protect themselves and be allowed to carry their weapon wherever they go. I don't have a carry permit and I'm not sure how I feel about returning to the days of the wild west when everyone was armed. I have cheered the common man that has protected himself against those that meant him harm. But in a dark, crowded theater, where people are panicked and running, I think more people shooting, would have led to more people dead or wounded...plus in this case, the shooter was probably better armored than SWAT. 

I saw a news agency ask the question if this would change people's habit of going to theaters. Some people answered, yes. I don't understand. That's like saying your going to quit driving because someone was in a car accident. I refuse to let the violence change my life, I feel like that is letting them win. I fly. I go to work and the mall. But I am more aware of people around me, especially when they are being verbally threatening. I see this at work, and think to myself, "Will this be the one that comes back and shoots the place up?" But then, I go on. On another note, I wonder if the news media is making news when they ask a question like that, stirring up fear. Or are they just expressing the fear that is already there?

I saw on Facebook a suggestion that Christian Bale, dressed at Batman, should visit the children that were injured, to show them there were heroes too. Personally, I would think after this experience that seeing Batman walk in, might be a little traumatic. Besides, it isn't Batman that comes to the rescue in real life. The heroes are the people that covered others with their bodies, the people that carried others out and the police officers and others that ran into that theater...real people.

My condolences to the families, friends and loved ones of those involved. I even include the family of the shooter. It was not their fault, but their lives will never be the same either...and they are unlikely to get the community support. 

Play

I have never outgrown my desire to put on make-up and do my hair. I have never outgrown the desire to put on clothing that makes me feel special. I have never outgrown the fun of doing these things, while giggling with friends. I have never outgrown playing make believe. I have never out grown fun. I feel sorry for those, whose lives have become so serious, that they have forgotten how to play.

RIP Jimmy

I found out today that the guy I consider my first boyfriend, died of a massive stroke a few months ago. We were a couple for a few months...I think I was in the 7th grade, he was a sophmore. Big stuff. We obviously didn't make it as a couple, but we stayed friends for the next few years. Him acting as my big brother, along with a few others, and making it difficult to have a "love life". The kind of thing you can do when the people are young and the relationship simple. He graduated and I didn't see him so much. But he always had a big smile and a hug for me. I think the last time I'd seen him was...wow, maybe 10 years ago. We didn't really know each other anymore, just memories of people and times long gone. But he still had a smile, still happy to see me. 

He was 52.

Tap, tap, tapping

I'm sitting here trying to relax. Tomorrow is a holiday, so no work. So I got comfy, cracked open a book on the Nook and kicked back. Unfortunately, I can't get my brain to focus exclusively on the book. The job change keeps knocking on my mental door. It shadows over everything. So much to consider. So little information. I can't change it, but I can't shake the worry...especially since everyone in the office frets about it daily. I really like my job, so I don't want to find something new. All I wanted was some stability. The unknown is the worse part....always is.

I had stopped writing but it seemed somehow unfinished. More tap, tap tapping at my mental door. One side of my brain trying to freak out. The other, rational side, saying, nothing to do. I am usually good at compartmentalizing but every now and then the obsessive gene clicks in. I want to do something. I want, need, some control. I have searched and searched the internet and every crook and nick that I can think of for information. I keep trying to be the one just sitting back and...it isn't working too well. 

Tap, tap, tap.

Moon

I recently was told that I was born under the new moon. I found this fascinating, just because I have a long felt connection with the moon...but never really considered what phase I was born under. The new moon is basically the opposite of the full moon. The new moon occurs when the moon is between the earth and the sun, and as I understand it, they rise and set about the same time...rendering the moon invisible to the naked eye.

Want to know what phase you were born under?

http://aa.usno.navy.mil/data/docs/MoonPhase.php

Just like astrology, some believe the phase at the time of your birth influences your personalty. According to one site, the child born under the dark sky of the new moon is:

This person possesses a quality of spontaneity, thus, planning ahead is not always met with success. They view life as a grand adventure with unlimited possibilities. Living in the moment, the past is not important to them. Being born when the Moon sheds no light, they have come to learn to respond instinctually and to act on intuition. They are able to navigate without maps and arrive at their destination with time to spare. They are often criticized for being overly self involved, but there is a need for them to learn about who they are and to project it into the world.


I'll share that link too, just for the fun of it...


http://cafeastrology.com/natal/lunarphases.html

Stuck in your head.

Don't let your head get in your way. What you tell yourself can make all the difference in the world. Talk yourself up. Doesn't cost a thing.

Dreams

I have had some bizarre dreams recently. Some of which I would only share with close friends. Some of which I'll keep to myself. I am not sure what has produced such vivid dreaming. I am grateful for the sleep.

Last nights dream stuck with me through the day. This is another aspect of these dreams, they don't shred like gossamer at the sound of the alarm. In the dream I was being interviewed. They had asked me a long list of questions. I'm not sure why I was being interviewed. The questions were not job related nor were they subject related. A lot of interests, beliefs, thoughts, etc were covered. Some were very intrusive, but did not bother me in the dream. I answered all of the questions honestly...and without a hint of sarcasm or wit. Not me at all. Now that I think about it, it was like I was in a trance. Eventually, the interviewer struck on the subject of religion. I explained my beliefs and dis-beliefs. But for the first time in the interview, he was accepting of my answer. He wanted a word. I told him I could not give him one. I am not Christian or any other religious affiliation. I am not agnostic or atheist. He pointed out that I kept telling him what I was not. He wanted to know what I was...in one word. I sat staring at him for a long time and finally said, I am...

wishful.

Wishful? He asks, looking somewhat skeptical of the answer I have finally settled on.

Yes, I tell him.

I am wishful.

Wishful for happiness.
Wishful for peace.
Wishful for love.
Wishful for understanding.

The list went on.

And, finally, I tell him, I am wishful for there to be a higher being than us all. Someone with a plan. Someone that knows the why for all the pain and suffering and the trials and tribulations. Someone to make it all worthwhile. So he asks, if I wanted there to be a God, why didn't I believe in one? I told him I wanted unicorns too.

Then the alarm went off.

Words

This is a frequent post by me...words. Mightier than the sword and all. From the book I'm reading...

"Ignorance isn't bliss, but neither is knowledge. Sometimes you just know more, but it doesn't make you any happier."


You can never unknow. It's a fact of life. All you can do is forgive and move on...or just move on if forgiveness isn't an option.

I have changed

Not that everybody notices. It's been a gradual thing. I know I am different. There are specific events from the past that I would not tolerate today. I am stronger, more self assured. Thirty years ago, I was told I'd have to leave the hospital, visiting hours were over. My husband was still sedated from emergency surgery. He had no idea what had happened...or how close he had been to a real tragedy. I picked up my purse and quietly went home. He awoke later, alone and confused. Fifteen years ago, I started a new job. They asked what name I wanted on my name tag. They used my first name instead. I pinned it on and got used to it. Neither of these would happen now. Now, I would be polite, but firm, with the nurse that I was staying until my husband woke. I have no doubt that she would have agreed. I have a look and a tone of voice that few people will argue with. Now, I would take the name tag to HR and politely, but firmly, make sure they had the spelling of my middle name correct...though the first name really did work out better.

I misheard

Today, I heard one of those radio ads for sexual enhancement...you know, one of those "size matters" ads that I am sure is meant to make every man feel inadequate. During the ad, I heard them say something along the lines of, created by the best fornicators. Stop. Rewind. My brain caught up and said, what? I think what they said was, created by the best formulators.

Yesterday, while semi watching TV, I heard an ad I am assuming was for hardwood floors...I was watching HGTV. What I thought I heard was along the lines of, call Boner when woods important. I have no idea what they really said.

What can I say? My brain is an interesting place.

Today's random thought

People are like used cars. You can fix them up, but they still have the miles on them.

Choosing my poison

Or rather choosing against the poison.

I had my first doctor's appointment of the year today. I go twice a year, whether I'm sick or not. I love my doctor. She reviews with me things that have been going on. We talk about a lot of things...and she knows me well, as she sees me much more frequently than twice a year. She sees me outside the office in my semi-natural element...work.

Today she asked about my fibromyalgia. It waxes and wanes, but my increased stress has annoyed it. It's a nasty cycle of stress, pain, sleeplessness...each contributing to the next, round and round. She asked me again about starting medication. I don't remember the name of this one. Not Lyrica, I was actually foolish enough to try that one. I politely declined the offer, explaining I could deal with the fibromyalgia but I could deal with the psychological side effects of the meds. They make me s-l-o-w. It is very much like being stoned. I don't want to live in a daze. Oh, and there is the dependence. Both times I went off Lyrica, yes, I was stupid enough to give it a second chance, I was deathly ill. I can deal with the flu-like pain, stiffness and muscle spasms. I can deal with the insomnia and fatigue. I can deal with it all, but I can't deal with changing the way I think.

Per WebMD:

Symptoms of fibromyalgia include:

• Chronic muscle pain, muscle spasms or tightness
• Moderate or severe fatigue and decreased energy
• Insomnia or waking up feeling just as tired as when you went to sleep
• Stiffness upon waking or after staying in one position for too long
• Difficulty remembering, concentrating, and performing simple mental tasks ("fibro fog")
• Abdominal pain, bloating, nausea, and constipation alternating with diarrhea (irritable bowel syndrome)
• Tension or migraine headaches
• Jaw and facial tenderness
• Sensitivity to one or more of the following: odors, noise, bright lights, medications, certain foods, and cold
• Feeling anxious or depressed
• Numbness or tingling in the face, arms, hands, legs, or feet
• Increase in urinary urgency or frequency (irritable bladder)
• Reduced tolerance for exercise and muscle pain after exercise
• A feeling of swelling (without actual swelling) in the hands and feet

Fibromyalgia symptoms may intensify depending on the time of day -- morning, late afternoon, and evening tend to be the worst times. Symptoms may also get worse with fatigue, tension, inactivity, changes in the weather, cold or drafty conditions, overexertion, hormonal fluctuations (such as just before your period or during menopause), stress, depression, or other emotional factors.

You have to love that first line, "Fibromyalgia symptoms may intensify depending on the time of day -- morning, late afternoon, and evening tend to be the worst times." That doesn't leave a lot of left over time. Symptoms get worse with fatigue or inactivity...see, damned if I do, damned if I don't. I don't have all the symptoms, at least not all of the time. I've encountered people that are on disability for fibromyalgia and I wonder what they do. I hurt worse for being still, honestly, as strange as it sounds. The muscles stiffen and it's hard to move. I have also wondered, if they are disabled from the symptoms of the disease...or the treatment.

Self bartering

I have been overanxious the last few days. The subject of my anxiety seems to be a vacation that is being planned enough in the future that it should be on a back burner. That is why I do not think that is the real issue. I think I'm becoming anxious over something that does not need to be considered, rather than worrying about the more immediate threat. Though technically, both occurrences are set to happen within a weeks time frame. Not a week now, but a week far in the future. Wow, as I say that I wonder if I can manage both things that closely together? I have no control over the timing of one, but a little over the other. And as I have no control over the one that I think my psyche is trying to protect me from, I wonder what good it will do me to fret about it? Wait, I do have control. I don't have to float along the stream if I feel my destination is the open maw of a beast ready to devour me.

OK, a bit over dramatic. I don't like feeling anxious and I am surrounded by it at work right now. So many people, so unsure...and no answers to allay their fears. The unknown is always the worst fear. I absorb their emotions like water to a sponge.

Research

When are scientist going to figure out that EVERYTHING causes cancer and quit spending money researching the cause? How about spending your time and all that money on a CURE, or at the very least, a better treatment. There isn't hardly a week that goes by that there isn't some new research about what causes cancer. Today, it was sleep apnea. I am reminded of something I once read, "Research causes cancer in rats."

Cancer is the normal replication of cells, gone haywire. What triggers this malfunction is under constant study. I guess scientist hope if they can figure out the cause, they can prevent it. But from all the studies I've heard we'll have to give up eating, drinking...breathing.

Crime and punishment

If there were enough people reading my blog, I'm sure I'd get some grief for this one. First off, I will admit that I do not know all the facts. I watch the news...I don't think that means I know all the details. I'm just a little confused by two stories I heard tonight, one on the local, the other on the national news. I am expressing my confusion based on the stories as I perceived them. Now that I have completed the disclaimer...

On the local level, a high school teacher was sentenced to 10 years for, as I understand it, propositioning a 13 year old girl on Facebook. Propositioning. An inappropriate conversation. Yes, he was wrong. Yes, he was in a position of authority. But nothing in the news story indicates that there was ever physical contact. Nothing says pictures were sent. He propositioned her. She told her Dad, the police were called. Ten years? All I can think is there is more to the story they are not reporting.

Now in contrast...

A college student uses a "spy cam" to video tape his roommate. He broadcasts the roommate's "sexual encounter" live on the web, daring, his word, people on Twitter to view the live feed. Shortly after finding out about the video the 18 year old boy jumped from a bridge to his death. Because it was a gay encounter, there were accusation of a hate crime. This college student, was sentenced to 30 days and 3 years probation.

I do not know what the right answer, or sentence, is for these crimes. But they seem off to me, especially when contrasting the two. There doesn't seem to be any sense, logic, fairness.

Change

I have a lot of thoughts on change. I may have even shared a few. I am becoming an unintentional expert. I left my job of 14 years, because, well...it was killing me. The stress level had become unbearable. I cleaned out my desk, and with some trepidation, but a light heart, I moved on. Five months after starting the new job, I was transferred to another location. Desk number 2 cleaned out. This time, the change was not my choosing...but it felt like a good move. A few months after the transfer, I found out I was losing my job due to downsizing. I found a job with my former employer, cleaned out my desk, and looked forward to a bright future. I have spent the last seven weeks in orientation...feeling inadequate. I am not used to not knowing what I am doing. Today, I find out the parent company of my employer has "partnered" with a company that specializes in what I do...what I am learning to do. Well, technically, they specialize in finances...I am but a tiny cog in that wheel. So in January, I will be employed by that new company. The good news...I still have a job. I will work at the same place, with the same people, with the same boss and the same pay. I will, according to the new company's website, get nine paid holidays as opposed to the six I get now. There were not a lot of details...more to come. My greatest fear: they will change the rules; make us work set hours, make us work weekends. I am sure there are worse things...but I refuse to go there. My sanity isn't that strong. At least I don't have to clean out my desk...yet.

A horse is a horse, of course, of course...

I was a little annoyed when I first heard about the jockey being suspended from horse racing for beating his girlfriend. You take away a man's livelihood based on an accusation? The man's job does not put anybody at risk, so why not let him work until the dust settles? What happened to, innocent until proven guilty? Now you may have noticed that I said, "when I first heard"...since then I have heard on the news (and we know that all newscasts are factual and unbiased, true?) that he was already restricted from a previous charge of abuse, and was only allowed to ride as long as he stayed out of trouble. I don't know...I still feel he has been deemed guilty without due process.

Eyes

I have heard it said that eyes are the windows to the soul. If this is true, I don't know how anyone could look into the eyes of a dog and ask if they have a soul. I see love and intelligence...and some undefinable...

spark.

It isn't just dogs. I see this in lots of animals...but not all.

The same can be said for humans. Sometimes you look into the windows of the soul, and realize nobody is home.

Brillant

Want to know a sign of absolute brilliance? Taking an undesirable item, something that has no value, and advertising it as something special, limited, and therefore desirable. What makes me think of this is "chocolate diamonds". I'm guessing these are the diamonds that used to be discarded...maybe used in tools. Then some brillant, and apparently brave, individual decided to market them. Why not? If they can convince the public that they want it...need it. There is money to be had. Market it with a fancy name, I mean chocolate sounds so much better than brown.

Where is my GPS?

I had a plan with that last post, but I must have lost my map, because I never got there. This frequently happens. Usually because of the lapse of time between my mind turning over an idea and my ability to sit down and think it through and apply to megapixels.

As previously stated, I've had people on my mind, people long gone. This type of reminiscing happens to me ever so often. I am not seeping in regret...but, I think, more reminding myself of lessons learned. Reminding myself where I have been to appreciate where I am...and even a few happy memories.

Anyway, I digress. My goal, the thing that keeps knocking on my memory bank seeking attention...

There have been a few people I have known, that were/are, what most people call, two-faced. I'm not sure what triggered this particular line of thought. It has not been a recent experience. But usually, when something doesn't dissipate on it's own, it needs further exam. So here I am, again.

The behavior I speak of, is the person who will say I love you to your face, then talk bad about you the moment you are out of earshot. I do not understand this behavior. If you care for me, why talk bad about me? If you don't like me, why pretend? Okay, let me clear something up, behavior towards a person you don't care for, but maybe, for whatever reason, impossible to avoid...I do not believe that you need to be rude. It is usually unnecessary, and uncalled for, surely you were taught better. But you can be polite without being someone's best bud.

Where I tend to come into this, is the ear on the other side...though occasionally, I know I have been the subject. My mother was notorious for this type of behavior. I'm not talking about a bitch session. You can love someone without necessarily liking everything they do. Everyone, I guess, gripes about the people in their lives from time to time...very normal. The difference, is when someone will say something along the lines of they really don't like someone, but they will jump all over spending time with that person because there is some benefit. Two-faced. And every time I am the "ear" in this equation, I can't help but think that person is treating me the same way when I walk out of the room.

I'm not sure I am any closer to understanding why this has been at the forefront of my mind lately. Maybe I have heard some snarky comment recently and I still haven't resolved it. Hmmmm. I'm hungry...maybe I can't do self therapy on an empty stomach.