Mid-life Crisis? You Can't Make Me ...

Had an interesting dinner with a good friend last night. We both seem to be in a bit of a funk - from outward appearances, things are fine, terrific, swell even. But for some reason, we both feel kind of bummed out. After many glasses of soda (honest) and too long in a restaurant, we came to the uncomfortable conclusion that perhaps we're going through the dreaded mid-life crisis. Why is that bad? Well, I don't WANT to be old. When I think that way (which is probably fairly accurate), I have to admit my own mortality. I have to admit that half of my time on this planet has already passed. I don't wanna. You can't make me. *insert tongue sticky outy thing here*

Anyway, as we meandered through our conversation, it also became clear that neither of us are the time of people who folks gravitate towards, and that thank heavens we made friends in our twenties because new friends? It ain't happening. Part of the problem seems to be a latent rebellion. As I get older, I'm finding myself more and more annoyed by people who try to tell me what to do. I think it's because I was ever so obedient all my life, and it's starting to piss me off. Besides, it seems as though (particularly with family) what I do is never enough so why bother? Anyway, what it all boiled down to is the resurgence of a you-can't-make me attitude that while I don't necessarily verbalize, underlies much of my annoyance with life. Add to that a feeling that I'm tired of arguing with people (they should just do whatever "because I said so" - I'm often not really good at backtracking to how I reached a decision), and you end up with one crotchety old woman. Hmmm, maybe mid-life crisis isn't so bad afterall?

Chestnuts, Bells, and the Fat Guy w/ Cookies

Ok, can someone tell me how Christmas snuck up on me this year? I mean, it's not like I haven't been seeing the decorations for the last 3-4 months. And it's not like I haven't been accosted by people manning the kettles at every store. Yet here I sit, two weeks away and do I have cards done? No, not even made yet. Presents wrapped? Heck, I'm lucky they're bought. Tree up? What's a tree? Cookies ... mmmm, cookies ... wait, where was I? Anyway, suffice to say I am NOT ready for the holidays. And the more it starts looking like Christmas, the more Scrooge-like I feel. I guess I truly am a vile person.

Anyway, I'm also grumpy because (shock, dismay, astonishment) I'm trying to get into shape again. Yeah, yeah, I know, it takes time. But if I'm making myself miserable for two weeks, dagnabbit, I should see some improvement, right? I mean, it's not like I'm Twiggy trying to lose an ounce or two - we're talking about some serious padding that I need to dump. So is it too much to ask for a pound or two after a couple of weeks? Apparently, it is. *sigh* I'm such a whiner.

The Typhoid Mary of Television

What's the worst thing that can happen to a show you like? I'm beginning to think it's having me watch it. I am death to a tv show - pretty much everything I've liked either hovers in the edge of existinction (Veronica Mars anyone?) or gets cancelled after a couple of shows (Let's see, Firefly, Miracles, and [even though it wasn't that good] Threshold). Is my taste really that bizzarre? I used to think I was great at discovering future cult classics - I mean, I watched X-Files from day one, Xena from day one, Buffy from day one ... you get the picture. Now I just think my taste is weird.

What's even worse is when I pick up a show that's been on for awhile - you guessed, DOA. I'm talking Farscape and now Alias. Yeah, maybe Alias had seen better days, but it kind of reduces me to one show that I tape. Yes, one (the previously mentioned Veronica Mars). So beware. If you really like a show, don't tell me ... at least until it's already cancelled and available on DVD (yay DVDs).

I'm A Loser, Baby ...

Wow, blast from the past musically, but fairly reflective of how I feel. Tired and ready to give up on pretty much everything. Very burned out on the job front - tired of dealing with morons who don't give a damn about anything but their own bonus, tired of being blamed for everything except the bombing in Baghdad, tired of fighting everyone to get the simplest of projects done, just tired. I wish there was some acceptable solution here. Yeah, yeah, I know, find something else. Except there is nothing else in my area of expertise in my area. Moving elsewhere would have too much of a financial penalty, and so I sit. And because I'm so miserable, I get too tired to do much of anything else. Thank heavens the holidays are coming. At least I can forget about everything for a couple of days.

Moving Outside My Comfort Zone

which, by the way, I think is shrinking more rapidly than a wool sweater in boiling water. Anyway, today is one of those frustrating days where I've been spending a lot of time accomplishing exactly nothing. Everything I need to do depends on someone else who has a boatload less urgency than I do about the situation - which is fine, except I'm the one who has to explain why it takes 5 times longer than it should to complete whatever task has been assigned. No wonder I'm eating everything that isn't tied down. Not exactly the Alfred E. Neuman type - I live to fret ... or fret to live... or something like that. That's why I so totally need to win the lottery - it's not greed, it's a health issue. Honest. Think the insurance companies would buy it? Me neither. *sigh*

Other than work, I've had a whopping one good day so far this week. Exercised last night, cleaned a bit, read a bit ... all that good stuff (OK, I ate to much, but ...). Kids got great report cards - I get to go hear the rest of the story tomorrow (parent-teacher meetings). Just hoping the younger one has decided to hide her inner Haskell a bit better.

Speaking of Muzzles ...

Pat Robertson once again demonstrating the loving nature that the public has come to associated with "Christianity." Some background: the Dover schoolboard in York was taken over by a bunch of fundamentalist (who put the mental in fundamenta) who decided that what the district really needed was a court case (obviously there was too much money floating around the district, right?) so they put in a mandatory statement about how evolution was a theory and had "gaps" and "intelligent design" offered an alternative ... blah, blah, blah. Oh, and did I mention that the folks who push this home-school their kids ... and that the person who put the books in the school supporting intelligent design as a "anonymous donation" was the father of the driving force behind the whole thing. Anyway, the voters of Dover had the shits of it and kicked out all 8 of the board members responsible for this nonsense. Bear in mind, this has nothing to do with creationism vs. evolution or the value of either argument, just what is appropriate to teach in schools. (My belief is in a creator who used evolution as the method of His creation, but I don't depend on the schools to perpetrate that.)

Anyway, Robertson said (and I quote) "If there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God, you rejected him from your city." He continued, "And don’t wonder why he hasn’t helped you when problems begin, if they begin. I’m not saying they will, but if they do, just remember, you just voted God out of your city. And if that’s the case, don’t ask for his help because he might not be there." OK, several problems with this nasty, vindictive little man. Did it ever occur to him that a God powerful enough to create the world might be able to control a schoolboard election? How does he know that it wasn't God's will that these people get kicked off the schoolboard? I just love his certainty that he and he alone knows God's will. Well, bully for you. That's something that even Abraham Lincoln never claimed. Lincoln said something to the effect that it doesn't matter if God is on our side but rather are we on God's side. I just wish these holier-than-thous would think about that one once in awhile.

Accentuate the Positive ...

Eliminate the negative? I fear that would lead to eliminating myself of late. The question that always comes up for me is who is in control of how I feel about things? I know no one can control circumstances, but can I control how I react? I have to believe that I can. So why choose to reactive negatively? It all has to do with control - who is in control, who can be in control, who should be in control. I've been letting circumstances frustrate me and control my reactions. This lack of control cascades throughout life when I let it. I'm frustrated so I eat more. I'm frustrated so I mouth off more (who, me? really? whoddathunkit?).

It might sound dorky, but I've been turning to the book of Proverbs lately. One loud and clear message that keeps being repeated over and over and over and over... keep your darn mouth shut. Yeah, yeah, there are multiple aspects of this idea, but the basic remains the same. Shut it. I think I'm too much of a big mouth. I tend to forget to sensor myself and oops, out it comes. So, anybody got a muzzle I can borrow?

Can You Really Enjoy Something You Don't Think Is That Good?

Went to see "The Boyfriend" last night with a friend. It's an old, old musical that's well past it's expiration date. The plot is trite and painfully shallow. Basically, it's about a bunch of rich 17 year olds who think that a girl needs a boyfriend to be complete by the time they are 17. Yeah, it's really that bad. Of course, two of the shallow rich kids pretend to be poor and hook up and live happily every after. The only thing missing was the line "It's 10:30, kiss her already." Oh, and did I mention the comic relief was a lecherous old man (bordering on pedophile)? And that the "17-year-olds" were all played by women on the downside of thirty? No?

At any rate, as is my habit, I went into critique mode with my friend on the way out of the theater. She just kind of shrugged and said it had music and dancing so she enjoyed it. She's used to my criticism and doesn't mind that I rip apart the show we see (in fact, I think she kind of finds it funny - at least I hope so). But the comment kind of implied that I didn't enjoy it. Not the case. It annoyed me, but the female lead had a good voice, and some of the male dancers weren't half bad. Did I think it was a good musical? No (you can only get away with that thin of a story if the music is Gershwin quality - it wasn't). Did I enjoy it? Sure. I don't really have to think something is good to enjoy it. Does that make me strange?

Tagged Twice, So I Gotta ...

Besides, it looks like fun (yes, I do have a perverted view of fun, why do you ask?)....oh, and thanks, Don and Jynx.

Three screen names that you've had: hftr, HereForTheRide, Bickett

Three things you like about yourself: my eyes, my intelligence, my honesty

Three things you don't like about yourself: my current physical condition (read body), my insecurity, my response to stressful situations (pissy and crying or eating everything that doesn't move ... or doesn't move quickly enough)

Three parts of your heritage: Scot; Irish; German

Three things that scare you: death, something happening to my kids, heights

Three of your everyday essentials: Diet Dr. Pepper, hugs from my kids, chocolate (oops, how'd that sneak in here)

Tree things you are wearing right now: Sweater, socks and khakis

Three of your favorite songs: Death Came A Knockin', The Sheperd's Wife, Rocky Road to Dublin

Three things I want in a relationship: Respect, trust, and the love thing

Two truths and a lie: I miss riding my bike, I love watching my kids play soccer, I believe there is a job out there that could make me happy

Three things you can't live without: my family, my car, my dvds (sad, I know)

Three places you want to go on vacation: Russia, Antartica, China

Three things you just can't do: Bowl, golf, not worry

Three kids names: Katherine, Sarah, Seth

Three things you want to do before you die: I'll go with the ever popular get published; wget back to my pre-pregnancy weight; be at peace with myself

Three celeb crushes: John Cusack, Richard Dean Anderson, Lenny Kravitz

Three of your favorite musicians: Kate Rusby, Seamus Egan, Sam Philips

Three physical things about the opposite sex that appeals to you: eyes, voice, smile

Three of your favorite hobbies: Photography, biking, cult tv series

Three things you really want to do badly right now: Go to bed; win the lottery; exercise

Three careers you're considering/you've considered: Archeology, English Teacher, Trust fund baby

Three ways that you are stereotypically a boy: FOOTBALL!! Hate shopping; play computer games

Three ways that you are stereotypically a girl: Self-doubting, emotional, want everyone to get along

Three people that I would like to see post this meme: Mo, hatgirl, and Izza

Here an Idea, There an Idea ...

Just read Don's post about where his ideas come from and it got me thinking about my own writing. I just realized that most of my ideas come from unexpressed frustration. The first thing I ever attempted was due to my frustration at church, at the shallow hypocrisy of it all ... mostly in myself. The next thing was due to my frustration at work, at the inability to make a connection with most of my coworkers and the realization of how easy it was to hide on the internet. The latest is based on my frustration with corporate America, how manipulative those in control are. Wow, am I a sad case or what?

I guess I write more because I have to than I realize. I think it helps me work through situations that I cannot control and probably cannot get out of. I won't stop going to church because I want my kids raised in a church environment, and in spite of everything, I still believe. I know that I can search forever and not find a church that fits me, so I go to the one I'm currently going to. Doesn't make it any less frustrating. I work because I like the money (yeah, I need it to a certain extent, but really, it's because I grew up with little money and I like that I don't have to worry about it - so long as I still have my job ... selling my youth [or should I say sold] for security). I can't stop seeing things the way I do, and for the most part, I can't change them, but at least I can work them out in my mind by writing about them. I guess that's why it really doesn't matter if I ever send out anything to be published. I need to settle the world/make sense of it somehow, and this is how I do it. I guess I'm pretty cracked, but it's better than going postal, right?

Halloween Pet Peeves

Sit down and let granny tell you a little story. When I was a young'un, back in the days of the dinosaur, we used to make our own costumes. We'd then go door to door in our own neighborhood (this was before the razorblade-in-the-apple scare), and the neighbors would try and guess who we were (this was back in the days when masks weren't considered safety hazards that cut down your peripheral vision). Surprisingly, our neighbors actually knew the kids in the neighborhood, and could make a fair guess. By the time you were in fifth or sixth grade, you graduated from trick-or-treat night (this means you didn't go out for the once-a-year candy grab).

Flash forward to last year. Well past the due date for trick-or-treating, I get to hand out candy. I dress the young ones in hideously overpriced costumes with no masks and dad takes them out. I know about 5 of 60 kids that come to our door over the next two hours. None of them introduce themselves. Few bother to say thank-you. Then we get the teenagers who don't even bother to dress up and just come for the candy. I harass them a bit but still give out the candy. They respond by trying to steal our pumpkins (guess they didn't like the harassment). Thankfully, hubby (who thinks Jerome Bettis is a wee little man) is home and chases them off. Happy Halloween, huh?

I'm sorry, but I think there should be rules for Halloween - the first of which is if you don't know the name of the people you are visiting, you shouldn't go to that house. Barring that, you should at least live within a 1 mile radius of the place. If you don't say thank-you, you should be required to return the candy immediately (as a side note, my husband mentioned he got a ton of comments on how nice it was to hear thank-yous - our kids have been civilized at least that much ... in fact, the younger girl thought they were going out visiting - she wanted to pet everyone's dogs and carry on conversations with the people). And this is the biggie - if you are old enough to drive, you are too old to go trick or treating. 'nuff said.

All's Quiet on the Eastern Front

Well, no more updates from the teacher on my daughter. Of course, the fact that the other kid has not been in school for a week may have something to do with it, but I'll take what I can get. Went to my first Parents Association meeting last night. Last year they held them during the day so I couldn't attend. Very interesting. Let's just say that I now understand more clearly than ever the differences between a public school and a private school.

When my older girl was in public school, I went to every meeting and ended up being an officer on the board - mainly because no one else wanted to. Their major concern was the upcoming skating parties. Blech. My husband promised to take on some other heinous task if I would just go to the meeting so he didn't have to. Flash forward to last night. First of all, I wasn't drafted for any position on the board (definitely to the good). They had the upper school college counsellor present to the group. That's right, a school that has a graduating class of about 30 max has its own college counsellor (compare this to one counsellor for all needs for a class of 600 at one of the local public schools). Apparently, she starts sending out information in the 7th grade, and has her first meeting with the families in 8th to plot out the kids' next four years of school. Junior year, everyone is required to take a class about what college they want to attend. She helps the kids and their parents pick out a couple of schools, then she researches them for the families. The school submits and tracks your application. They work with your on your essays and recommendation letters, and even have mock interviews in front of real college recruiters. It's like geek nirvana. I just wish I had all of this when I was graduating from high school. What's really cool is that they aren't really interested in sending the kids to Ivy League schools for the sake of sending them to Ivy League schools. The opinion is that undergraduates get screwed at name schools, and it's better to wait until you're going for an advanced degree. It's just so impressive.

I am getting dumber

And it's scaring me. It seems like more and more, I have conversations where I just can't seem to locate pertinent facts until much, much later. Case in point - this morning, I was talking about the King Tut exhibit that is touring the US. I really want to see it because it took the personal intervention of Egypt's president to get it out of the country. Who's that? Er...um...Sadat? No, no, no, that's the guy who was in charge when Camp David happened (another name I couldn't come up with over the weekend). Er...um...not Nasser... Begin? No, no, no, that was Israel. It took me a good 20 minutes to come up with Hosni Mubarak. No big deal you say? Just the latest in a long line of not being able to remember stuff, says I. I used to blame it on having kids, but now I'm convinced I'm just losing brain cells somehow. They must leak out of my ears when I sleep. The sad thing is that I don't really forget stuff, I just remember it out of order. Know where Sadat came from? I was talking to my husband about Jimmy Carter on Friday and I couldn't remember the leaders involved in the Camp David Peace Accords. I finally come up with the answer today - when I'm trying to remember the current President. Ay-yi-yi-yi. Should I start saving for my room at the home yet?

Mean? My Daughter?

Had an interesting couple of days last week. It all started when my older girl came home and told me she wanted to tell me something the Spanish teacher told her. She seemed very proud. I told her to just say it, but she said she didn't want to say it in front of her sister. Needless to say, this made me insanely curious. Turns out the teacher told her something to the effect that she couldn't believe she was so sweet when her sister was so mean.

Mean? My daughter? Knock me over with a feather. I was stunned. I mean, the girl is 4 years old - what could she have done in the two hours a week she had Spanish to cause the teacher to call her mean? Yeah, the teacher was totally unprofessional, but still ... mean? My daughter? As a parent you try so hard to raise your kids to be "nice". Very few people want their kids to be the school yard bully, yet somebody has to be right? But my kid? I fought with myself, half stunned and half in denial. How could we have been so blind?

Next step, of course, was to call her regular teacher. Turns out she has been having trouble with one of the girls in her class. Per the teacher, my daughter and this other girl are the two oldest kids in the class, and they bump heads frequently. I know of this other girl - she's basically a queen b in training (I know, I know, horrible thing to say about a 5 year old, but there you are). In talking to another parent, she said her daughter didn't like this girl because she acted one way in front of grown-ups and another way when no one was looking. Apparently, my daughter wasn't about to let this girl have her way (my daughter can be rather bull-headed). She even started being obnoxiously "nice" to the girl - sitting next to her and smiling at her (you know the way ... in case you don't, consider when I asked my daughter if this is how she would want to be treated, she said no). Part of me is concerned that I'm shaping the story the way I want to see it to make my daughter look good. I don't think so, but still...

Anyway, we're working through the issue with her. But it made me wonder, how nice should we teach our children to be? In their class, they are told everyone is their "friend". Well, I don't know about you, but if somebody takes things from me and pushes me, they aren't my friend, no matter what anyone else says. How do you get this across to a 4 year old? How do you teach them to be nice but not to be a doormat? I have to confess there is a small part of me that is proud of her for sticking up for herself. Does that make me a bad mom?

Just hope I'm not raising the schoolyard bully ...

Tales of Weekends Past

Well, we survived the soccer tournament. The girls seemed to have fun and actually won a game (their first win of the season). The net result is that it made me even more grateful for my daughter's coach. She was the only female coach in their bracket, and in my mind, was utterly fantastic in how she worked with the girls. She yelled only to get the ref's attention for a substitution or to remind the girls to position themselves correctly. She was firm but kind. She never bitched out any of the kids, and they all felt like a million bucks by the time they left that afternoon. Compare that to some of the other coaches. Some teams had two or three men yelling at them, telling them to do this, do that in real nasty voices. I just really don't think that's necessary at this age and talent level. It certainly didn't get any better performance out of the kids.

Oh, and I did end up buying Robots for the girls as a treat. All in all a good, but tiring weekend.

But what about MY needs?

Just got a free gift card from Blockbuster for $15, mainly because I obsessively check my e-mail (it was the free gift from EW for being one of the first 15 people to respond to their e-mail). I usually don't go to Blockbuster - when we rent, we use Netflix because me and remembering to return things is not a good mix (not to mention the fact that the selection at the local Blockbuster sucks). When I buy DVD's, I either go to Costco or buy online from DeepDiscountDVD because, well, I'm cheap. So now I have this found money, burning a hole in my pocket. What should I do with it? I guess the smart thing would be to buy Robots or some kids movie for the girls - even if Blockbuster is overpriced, the $15 off would make it cheaper than buying it somewhere else. But ... but... [enter whine here] What about MY needs?

I hate to admit that I'm rather addicted to buying DVDs, so much so that I swore, as G-d is my witness, that I will never buy DVD TV series again (until, of course, I finish my current batch). My current batch is ... well... rather extensive. I have packages that haven't even been taken out of the plastic wrap. In fact, I just bought Millenium Season 1 and Battlestar Galactica Season 1 this past weekend (yeah, I know, I'm a geek). So the decision should be easy, right? Right? But...but... there's still Wonderfalls ... and ... and...Desperate Housewives (OK, I didn't watch it when it was on TV, but I heard it was good) ... and Lost .... and... and. Yes, I know, I need help. But what if I bought a movie I've always wanted like Run, Lola, Run? That would make it like a free movie (of course, the chances of my local Blockbuster carrying it? About the same as SMG begging to do a Buffy movie.). *sigh* I'm such an addict. I know what I should do, but I just don't know if I can bring myself to do it. I really need to exercise more (brief explanation - I only watch DVD's while exercising, so the more I exercise, the more I watch. The more I watch, the more I can buy. Yes, it's convoluted).

Competition

Just found out my daughter will be involved with a soccer tournament this weekend where they track the "winners" and "losers". They haven't done this yet in at her level, and I'm kind of uncomfortable about it. You see, while her coach is a really good coach, I don't think her team has won a game all year. The important thing is that they've had fun, they're all learning the game, and they don't seem too concerned that they haven't won. I would hate to see that change. My daughter is never going to be a great soccer player, but right now, she really likes the game. It gets her active and helps her understand a team environment. I know, I know, real life has winners and losers and all that rot. It's just that I don't see why it's necessary at this level (under 8, in case you were wondering).

I don't know why this all makes me so nervous. I'm actually a fairly competitive person myself. I guess it's that I know my competitive streak has added unnecessary and unhealthy pressure to my life. Instead of doing something because it's fun, you do it to win. It's even kept me from trying things when I was younger because I didn't think I could be "the best." I guess I don't want my kid to go through that. Who knows, though, maybe it won't affect her that way. She's never been particularly competitive (waaaay too laid back to be my kid, sometimes) ... and yes, some competition is good, but why does everything have to be a challenge, something to rank yourself against others? Doesn't life have enough of that already?

National Bookfest

Went down to the Library of Congress Bookfest this past weekend - a lot of fun but it needs to be more than one day. The kids really enjoyed it for all the reasons that are usually annoying to me: namely, that they got to run around the states pavillion and get free stuff. There were a lot of good give-aways, but you had to be there early. My kids both got back-packs from the Hooked-on-Phonics people. My favorite give-away were the seat cushions by Target - they'll come in handy during soccer games.

What's that? What about the festival itself? Well, it was fun. We got to meet Doreen Cronin, who wrote "Click, Clack, Moo" (among other very good children books). She was incredibly sweet. She had just finished her talk and was signing some stuff at the Children's Pavillion while her handler was trying to steer her over to the official book signing area. By the time we got to here, the handler had gotten quite insistent that she had to leave. We understood. My husband took a quick picture, and we started heading over to the official signing line. She stopped our kids and asked if they would mind having their picture taken with her. Very, very sweet. Particularly since when we did go to the signing line, we waiting for an hour and were then told she had to leave. They really needed to organize the signing area better. Maybe borrow some of those Disneyland signs that say the wait will be X hours from this point. The kicker was that after they shooed us away, she ended up staying for another hour, so we could have gotten her to sign the book. Oh well, it made the earlier picture with the kids that much more special. After that, we didn't bother with the signing lines and just wandered around. Got to hear Laura Numeroff (If You Give a blank a blank series of books). Got to see Neil Gaiman and picked up his new book. All in all, a pretty nice day.

Oh, you probably heard it was also protest day in DC. A couple of comments on that one: first of all, where were all these people BEFORE the war? Hindsight is 20-20, huh? Secondly, why did they have to pick the same day as the book festival to protest? The book thing had been planned for over a year. No big deal, but still .... it resulted in Lynn Cheney and Kay Bailey Hutchinson cancelling (I personally didn't care, but I'm sure some people were disappointed). And finally, I'm sorry, but they just seemed like a bunch of people who were thrilled to get more use out of signs they made in the 60's. There was no originality, just seemed like a bunch of group-think. Bush is responsible for everything from Iraq to Katrina to genital herpes. Um, no. Look, I'm no fan of the man - I didn't vote for the Bushes four times and wouldn't vote for them today. But the amount of hatred made these "protesters" seem as bad as the people they were protesting against. Whatever happened to respectfully disagreeing?

Parenthood

It's it's very own kind of 'hood. You think that the gangsta rappers live in a tough 'hood, you should try one of the parenting variety. It's a good thing you don't realize what you are doing before you have kids or the species would be extinct. I know that sounds bad, but face it, no one in their right mind would ever have children if they knew in advance how life altering it truly is, how you disappear a bit as a person, being absorbed into your children as almost more of an attachment than an individual. Of course it is also rewarding, but that's much more amorphous and hard to describe unless you have the kids yourself. If you only saw how your life would change once you had kids, trust me, you wouldn't have them.

And it really does screw with your mind. Suddenly, there is someone you would do anything - and I do mean anything - for. Yeah, I know, you love your mommy, your significant other, your dog. Not the same. Suddenly, you are totally responsible for this little life, and it scares the crap out of you. You don't want them to ever experience hurt or pain, but you know that they will (and more to the point, that they have to to grow). You want to let them make their own decisions - so long as you don't think they are mistakes. You want to avoid all the horrible errors your mom made and yet, there's a reason your mom did things the way she did. You want to know everything about their lives, but then you realize how little you really do know - case in point, unless your kid brings home all of her tests, you don't even know how she's doing in school (not really) until you see the report card. How many of you showed your parents all of your tests? You want her to be less neurotic than you are, but with you as a parent, how can she be? Then comes the guilts. I yell to much, I'm too demanding. No, I'm too easy on her. I don't spend enough time with her. No, I spend too much time with her - she needs to learn how to entertain herself. Oh God, am I responsible if her life turns out to be a mess? Yeah, parents really are that neurotic.

Junk Mail and Other Random Thoughts

For some reason, I've been thinking a lot about junk mail recently. I'm talking about the mailbox credit card offers and the e-mail varieties. For awhile, it looked like the credit card companies had given up on the direct mailing thing and my contributions to the landfills dropped precipitously. Then as the economy started to flail, they decided what was really needed was people with credit cards they couldn't pay off. Guess they had already talked every they could into buying houses they couldn't afford so it was back to the smaller debt stuff. What really bugs me is when they include those silly arse cash advance checks, already filled out for your convenience (or more likely, the convenience of a dumpster diving thief, but I digress). Leave me alone. You don't want me as a customer - I never pay finance charges. But still everybody wants me to experience the "prestige" of being a purple card level holder (or some other such rot).

Only slightly more annoying are the junk e-mails. They used to be even more painful until our company got better filtering softward. Then it died down for a few months. Now they've discovered that putting "Viagra" in your subject line isn't the greatest idea so they put in question marks. I do a lot of business with Asia companies - the translation packages don't work really well, and sometimes their e-mails come across with question marks in the title. Which means, I gotta look at these pieces of tripe. What's even more insulting is how stupid they think people are. Um, yeah, I'm going to click on an unknown link to G-d knows where. Sure, why not? At least be original people.

Just seems like there are too many people out there willing to waste my time. Grr. Argh.

Politically Incorrect Views

OK, I've not posted lately because I really didn't have much I wanted to share. And now, my first post back and I'm going to be a bit inflamatory. It's about Katrina. Yeah, I know. It was, is, and will continue to be a tragedy. But you know what? I've already given cash to the effort. I don't need every web page I visit to ask me for more. I don't need every blog I read to tell me how awful it is. I get it. Really. I'm not stupid (though some might debate that issue). I go to work, there's a message on our work intranet telling me how I can give. My kids go to school, I get a note on how I can give. My kids go to soccer, I get a note on how I can give. I go to the grocery store, I get asked to give. I go to church - yep, you got it, special offering for Katrina. And woe be it to you if you don't give to every Tom, Dick and Harry who asks.

Besides the overkill annoyance factor, this does lead to some other interesting questions nobody wants to ask, though. Where was everybody before this happened? Where was everybody when every scientist who looked at the situation said New Orleans was heading for a huge disaster, that building a city below sea level wasn't exactly the smartest thing in the world? Where was everybody when Bush and his cronies were cutting funding for the levee system and pooh-poohing global warming and the rapidly dwindling wetlands? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot - it's your money. Yeah, well, this is your disaster too. Great decisions there, people. Oh, and where was everybody when the poor of the city couldn't afford to leave? Gee, not our problem, they aren't middle-class white folk. What? You don't think race played a part? Doesn't it disturb anyone else that regardless of what I think as a middle-class white woman, 80% of the African American population thinks race played an issue - doesn't that disturb anyone?

And so what is our response? Let's throw money at the situation after it's too late. Nevermind that there is little to no accountability to how the money is being spent - why, to consider that would be hard-hearted (cue "And the money kept rolling in ..." from Evita). Nevermind that it's still a pretty dumb idea to build the city below sea level - we're gonna make it the same way it was before, dagnabbit. And if anyone disagrees with us? Why they're just commie-pinko-terrorists, ya know?

Weird Story Idea #407

Crazy thoughts keep running through my head. I'm going to try and ignore the big purple elephant tap-dancing in the corner (i.e. my job) and concentrate on what I WANT to do. Right now, I've been rolling around a story idea in my head for the last couple of days. I may even be forced to do something about it. It's set in alternate universe (kind of a fantasy thing that is very similar to our earth). People are pretty much apathetic like here. There is a "cult" called the Brotherhood of the One Horn, who believes their world was created by being vomited out of a cornucopia type of horn. Silly, right? Well, the community as a whole kind of ignores them, thinking they're basically harmless and they tend to do a lot of good deeds. They ignore it when this cult takes over the government of a small town, then a larger city, then the state and start spreading like a disease until no one is powerful enough to stop them. They control everything. They mandate that life be lived according to their rather strict code of ethics. They have "truth-tellers" who's job it is to make sure that people "think" the right way. They are graded on how many people they send to reorientation plants. Science is forbidden, except to support the cornucopia creationist ideology. Anyway, the main character is a scientist who is working with them to find the "Cave of the Oracle" - a key component of their mythology that is the location where "God" talks directly to His people. It is supposed to be a physical place. The scientist is actually trying to use their money to prove their mythology is a bunch of hooey. But then, he actually discovers the Cave. He takes the leaders there. They find out that while the mythology is correct and true, the way they have perverted the faith so infuriates their Creator that he wipes them out and decides to start over again, this time starting with monkeys. He always liked monkeys, cute furry things that they are ...

So ... whaddaya think? (And yes, I did think of this while sitting in church, why do you ask?)

Horrorscope

Just read my "finanacial horoscope" over the weekend. Apparently, if you are an Aquarius and you have a job, you will lose your job this fall. But if you are an Aquarius and you don't have a job, you will find a job this fall. So the big question is do I quit so I can be one of those due to get a job or wait for the layoff? Seriously, though, who thinks these things up? And wouldn't it be kind of funny if employers made their decisions this way. "Ok, you there, when were you born? Uh-oh, sorry, but according to your horoscope, you're due to have an accident at work so we'll have to lay you off before it happens." Or would it be more Nazi-esque: "All right, all of you who were born in February, up against the wall, the Donald has something to say to you" and a mini-Donald Trump automaton pops out to say "You're fired." Geesh. Maybe I should just stay in bed until my horrorscope improves. *snerk*

Repent, Harlequin!

And no, this post has nothing to do with the torn bodices and rippling muscles on badly written romance books you mother used to surreptitiously read in the bathroom when you were 5. This refers to a Harlan Ellison short story that I listened to this morning. The story takes place in a society that had become so slavishly devoted to schedules that being late was a crime, punishable by the "tick-tock" man. The "tick-tock" man had the ability to shorten your life - late for a meeting by three minutes, you lose three minutes of life. The punishments went up exponentially with the amount of time you were late until he could stop your heart if you were too late or late too many times. Anyway, the Harlequin was a major annoyance. He purposely went about being late. If you want more details, read the story. It's short and worth the time.

Anyway, it did make me think a bit about our society. Yes, this story was an exaggeration, but by how much? I know at my workplace, people brag about how many hours they spend on the job until I wonder if they remember why they have a job in the first place. To me, a job is the means to an end. Oh I want to do a good job, but at the end of the day, I leave. I have no desire to spend one hour more than necessary at my job. Why does our country seem to glorify the workaholic? What's so glamorous about work becoming your life? Why would anyone in their right mind want that? For money? Sure, but at some point, if you aren't going to spend that money, enjoy yourself, what's the point? It becomes one gigantic game of monopoly - accumulate the most and win. But win what? What is the point? Maybe it's because I never had a job in an area of passion for me (though I personally see a danger in mixing your passion with your profession but as Jynx says, that's another Oprah). I don't know, but when I start living to go into work, you might as well shoot me.

Various and Sundry

Haven't been writing much as I'm swamped and in a bad mood, which I tend to try and keep to myself. Nothing really bad happening, just beginning of school stuff, dealing with work stuff, you know the routine. Low energy all around.

Am I a bad mom for dreading soccer season? At first, it seemed like a good way to get my older daughter active (she's more of a reader). The practices were fine, no big deal. Now I get the schedule for the season. Practices are Tues and Thurs at 5:00 (great, except I don't get out of work until 4:30 - try picking up the kids and getting to practice during rush hour in 30 minutes ... yeah, that's going to happen). No biggie, we'll figure it out. Then I looked at the game schedule - every Saturday through November 12th. Who the hell plays soccer in November? We get snow by Halloween, on occasion. Needless to say, it's cold by that time of year. Oy. Can I just back out gracefully now? Probably not. My girl seems to like it. *sigh* By the time we get Saturdays free again, it'll be time for birthdays and holidays. Yeah, I'm a bad mom.

Wow - Scarily accurate

You Are Likely a Second Born

http://images.blogthings.com/birthorderpredictorquiz/second-born.jpg"> %20color="#000000">At your darkest moments, you feel inadequate.At work and school. you do best when you' criticism. In friendship, you tend to give a lot of feedback - positive and negative.Your ideal careers are: accounting, banking, art, carpentry, decorating, teaching, and writing novels.You will leave your mark on the world with art and creative projects.

The'>http://www.blogthings.com/birthorderpredictorquiz">The Birth Order Predictor

Mexican Overload

Nothing like overeating at lunch to motivate you for the afternoon stretch. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. Well, yeah, I do ... it's damn good. *sigh* There goes an entire evening of exercise undoing what I just did to myself this afternoon.

So what did I do? Went out for Mexican food at lunch. Mmmmm. They have great chips and dip, just to add those extra calories you so need. On top of that, it gives you that great, sleepy feeling all afternoon long. Of course, I could skip the chips ... and take part of it home ... oh, who am I kidding? No way in hell the clean-plate kid is leaving anything. And since my mouth was burning from the spices, I had to top my mean off with some ice cream, didn't I?

Well, I can always start watching what I eat tomorrow, can't I?

5 Points for Gryffindor!

This past weekend as I was working on the laundry, my seven-year old burst in with what to her was very exciting news. "Mom! Mom! I just got 5 points for Gryffindor!" She had been playing the Harry Potter game on the computer and apparently got the points for learning some sort of spell. My reaction was quite a bit less than hers in the excitement department, but it made me wonder what happens to us as we get older. My daughters would never consider any other house than Gryffindor. It is, afterall, where the bravest, most righteous people get to go. But ask a bunch of teenagers about this, and you'll most likely hear Slytherin (or at least that's what I believe based on my informal survey). Why the change? What happens between seven and thirteen that makes being evil and viscious to other people the cool thing? And what happens after that? Do we continually lose our innocence, our essential goodness until we are left as bitter old hags?

I even compare my younger girl to the older girl. She's four, and you have never seen a child more able to enjoy life. Sure, when she's upset, you know it, but her joy is equally pure. My seven year old is already learning to cover up that joy. Why do we do this? I believe Winston Churchill once said something about if you aren't a liberal by the time you're 30, you have no heart, and if you aren't a conservative by the time you're 40, you have no brain. Why are the two mutually exclusive? Do they have to be, or do we do that to protect ourselves? I want to want to be in Gryffindor till the day I die.

Are You Ready for Some Football?

Hell yeah! Growing up in Pittsburgh during the 70's pretty much made it a requirement to be a football-aholic. Fall Sundays were a religious experience - and not because of church. Every Sunday at 1:00, you were glued to the TV set. There were even little rituals that had to be obeyed: You only ever sat on the end of the couch that the Steelers were heading (never on the end they were defending ... you might inadvertently help the other team score). You always raised your hands in the touchdown signal when the Steelers were ready to score. And make sure you do the same thing during a Steeler's fied goal attempt. When the other team attempted a field goal, you make the no-good signal. Oh, and make sure you extend your index finger when the Steelers have the ball (to indicate 1st down, of course), and fist your hand when the other team had the ball (for 4th down, naturally). Yes, being a Steeler fan was hard work, but it was worth it.

Now days, I'm not quite as fanatical. Oh I still do the hand motions and all (even have my daughters doing them), but I will miss a game on occasion. But still, every year at this time, the heart starts pumping a bit faster. Why does a successful football team do this to me? I mean, granted the Pirates haven't been good for years, but even during the Stargell years I wasn't like this about baseball. There's just something primal about the game. Maybe it's the short season. Maybe it's the fact that nobody is bad for very long (well, except for the Lions). I don't really know, but you can guess where to find me on most Sunday afternoons.

Stuck in the 80's

Let me start this post by saying that I am in no way, shape or form cool. I'm firmly entrenched in suburbia, from my SUV to my middle-management-dead-end-job to taking my kids to soccer practice. I dress in khakis and golf shirts, listen to public radio, and go to bed by 11 each night. The only slightly off thing about me might be my liberal political leanings, but even that is more evidence that I'm old than anything else (apparently, it's "in" to be on capitalist overdrive by that's another rant).

So why is it when I listen to the music of the 80's I suddenly feel in again? I never play the radio loud, but when I listen to the music of the early 80's, I just have to crank the volume and sing along (badly, I might add). I can't even listen to popular music today, but somehow 80's music makes me want to dance. Was it so much better back then? Probably not. The funny thing is that anything I've purchased lately in terms of CD's are Celtic (also known as easy-listening only with more interesting instruments). So why can I wail along with "Walking on Sunshine"? Why does "Goody Two Shoes" make me want to dance? I guess my musical tastes atrophied in my early 20's. I don't understand this new-fangled music stuff, but put "Mickey" on the CD player and you'll hear me ... "Oh Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind, Hey Mickey" (must be the profound lyrics - *snerk*).

Miracles

Just watched the tv show "Miracles" (awesome show, highly recommend it), and it made me think: just what are miracles? Do they exist today or are they a relic of the past? Were biblical miracles literal or simply the expression of changes in the human heart? Do you believe in miracles?

As for me, yes, I do believe in miracles. I believe that some of the biblical miracles were simply a matter of interpretation of actual historical events. But I don't believe that all biblical miracles can be assigned to historical events. I believe that God was more active in the early church because that was what was needed at the time. I don't think miracles are the be-all and end-all of faith - in fact, to a certain extent, they deny faith because when you see the miraculous, what is the need for the belief in things unseen? I believe that miracles exist today - some noticed as miracles, some not called miracles (for example, when the plane ran off the runway in Canada and no one was killed, that, my friends, is a miracle whether they call it a miracle or not). I don't think that miracles are as prevalent as some of my fundamentalist colleagues would like to believe - in fact, anything that makes G-d into your person genie or some freak show (I'm talking about pretty much all tv healers here), has very little of the miraculous in it. But I don't believe that G-d is an uninterested bystander. I've seen too many coincidences - and quite frankly, one out-and-out miracle - to not believe. I just don't think that the power of G-d to perform the miraculous gives the Christian an out or an excuse to not try your hardest. I think G-d often uses people to perform common-place miracles, which means, quite frankly, as a Christian, I have to try harder to open myself up as an instrument of the Almighty. OK, 'nuff said.

In-Your-Face-Ism

As I pulled into a parking lot today, I looked up to see the following front license plate: "Hey Bud, Wise Up, Christ Died for You!" which made me wonder what on earth the person was trying to achieve. Would someone passing by read it, slap themselves on the head and say "By golly, you're right. How foolish of me! Thank you for calling me an idiot - of course I want to hear more about your G-d!" Or was it what I see more and more of in the church, what I call in-your-face-ism. It's a great excuse to not have to engage anyone in conversations of faith. You tell them you're right, they're wrong, end of story, now turn or burn. I just have one question: has anyone ever been converted using this methodology? How would these holier than thous feel if a Muslim approached them in the same manner? Oh, excuse me, they probably would never be approached that way ... mainly because they probably don't have any friends who don't believe. Safer preaching to the choir, you know. Who cares if you burn, at least I'm safe. Tee hee hee.

I know, I know, the excuse is usually, well wasn't Jesus in-your-face? Well, let's look at the evidence. Hmmm, who did Jesus condemn openly? Prostitutes or the church leaders of the day? Who was He quite gentle with? I guess it's easier to ignore His example and go your own way. It usually is. Look, I'm no saint, but at least I can admit it rather than pointing figures at everyone else (even though, ironically, this is quite a finger pointing post). It just kind of pisses me off because not only is this method not effective and not biblical, it is also counterproductive. How many people do you know that are turned off of Christianity because of this same attitude. And it's getting worse now that the politicians are getting into the act. I nearly vomited when I heard about the politicians addressing the Baptist church. The separation of church and state is more for the protection of faith than it is of the state, imho. Once you get caught up in this kind of horse puckey, allowing yourself to be manipulated politically from the pulpit, where is G-d? Anyway, kind of bums me out.

Unfortunately, in-your-face-ism isn't just a habit of the Christian community. I am so tired of folks convinced there is no G-d going out of their way to tell me how my knuckles drag because I do believe. It happened again at a posting board that I visit - a blatant attack on faith as being silly and uneducated. You know what, why not discuss things like civilized human beings rather than attack each other. Oh, I'm sorry, that means you'd have to leave your comfort zone and actually talk to someone who holds a different viewpoint. Didn't mean to make you so uncomfortable.

Forgiveness

As a Christian, I'm told that I should forgive. Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us, right? But what is forgiveness? Is it merely the absence of malice towards a person? I don't think so. I can honestly sit here and say that right now, there is no one that I hate. Now this doesn't mean I like everyone, but hate is such a strong word ... I reallyd don't think it applies. Does this mean I've forgiven everyone I should forgive? Unfortunately, no. Hate has nothing to do with it. I still hold grudges about particular slights that prevent me from opening my heart up to some people and truly forgiving. I don't want to admit this, but it is true. You've heard it said, hate the sin, not the sinner, but I'm beginning to think that to truly forgive, you must accept the sin, not hate it. Perhaps I should elucidate a bit more. I can say that I don't hate a person who has done something that in my mind has wronged me. I can say I hate what they did. But if I can't let go of that hate, I don't know that I can say I've truly forgiven them. What happens is that I bury the wrong, suppress it rather than forgive it so that the "relationship" can go on. But what really happens is in suppressing it I hold onto it, almost treasure it. Then if the person "wrongs" me again, up it pops, fresh as the day it hurt me the first time, making this new "wrong" even worse. Eventually, I cut myself off from the person, not willing to be "hurt" again. How is that forgiveness? It's not.

So anyway, I'm not going to list specifics, but there are a couple of folks I need to truly forgive. I need to pray for help to forgive them because while the surface hurt is gone, I can feel myself nursing it like a knife wound, not letting it heal completely. I need to forgive a coworker in another division (I need to pray earnestly for understanding), a friend who no longer talks to me (it hurts, I need to be able to honestly pray for her success even though I am no longer a part of her life), a pseudo-friend who only talked to me when they needed something (I need to forgive and move on, and pray for her well-being), and some family members (I need to forgive insults and pray for guidance in how to deal with them). Please help me be a truly forgiving person, not just someone who suppresses the anger.

A new day ...or trite'r us

Galatians 6:3 - 6:5 For if a man thinks himself to be something when he is nothing, he deceives himself. But let each man test his own work, and then he will take pride in himself and not in his neighbor. For each man will bear his own burden.

Read this passage last night. The part that hit me was the section that spoke to "let each man test his own work". At first glance, it looks to be a rather selfish admonition: just worry about yourself. But really, it kind of harkens back to a lesson you learn as a kid. I'm sure you've heard it, "If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?" It speaks to personal responsibility, to the idea of worry about the log in your own eye, not the speck in your neighbor's eye. It means that no matter how anyone else acts, you are responsible for how you act. You are not measured on a curve, based on how holy your neighbor leads his life. You are measured on an absolute. You can do nothing to change someone else's behavior, but you do have control over how you act and react. And this is where I've been falling down. I'm been blaming my unhappiness on everyone but myself. Management sucks. Friends are unfaithful. Family is hypercritical. But the question remains, am I or am I not responsible for my own life? Am I or am I not responsible for my own happiness? My obligation is to live my life the best way I know how. Yes, storms will come. Yes, circumstances will be sucky. But my reaction is my choice. My life is my choice. I can focus on what is good or get caught up in the sucky. And just because all the cool kids are doing it is not an acceptable answer for when I behave less than I was made to be. I am to be a child of G-d, acting in a manner that would please my Father. If I get caught up in the junk and allow my behavior to be junk, I can't justify my behavior with that childhood excuse of everybody's doing it. Time to grow up.

Anyway, if you choose to continue reading my blog, you'll probably see a change in what I post. I want to try something new. I want to try to work out my spirituality by writing it down. It will probably hold little interest to anyone but me, so I wanted to warn you ahead of time. I want to use it to try to be the person I know I can be, not the person I am. Lest you think I'm turning into a holy-roller, one of the things that separates me from the church right now is that I can't stand the hypocrisy that I see exhibited by the most "overt" Christians. I think most folks who are in your face forget this particular passage in Galatians. It's so much easier to criticize others than it is to fix yourself. Gee, seems to me that this is the issue Galatians is attacking. Anyway, Peace to you all. I'll understand if you find this dull as dirt.

So What GOOD Happened to You Today?

When I was little and got into a really bitchy mood, my dad would teasingly ask me what good happened to me that day. As a parent myself, I find myself using the same line on my children (Particularly the younger girl, who when asked how her day was says something along the lines of "Some good, some bad," and then proceeds to tell me she wants to tell me the bad things that happened that day. You may say she's just realistic. I say she's only 4 and a half, for Pete's sake.)

So anyway, time to take my own advice and outline what good happened to me today. Well, hmmm, let's see ... er... I wasn't too late for work? I didn't spill soda on myself on the way into work (yes, that happened first thing Tuesday morning)? OK, I need to try harder. Uh... I'm doing ok meeting my numbers this month (yes, my worklife is that sad - you're only as good as your latest numbers)? Hmmm, how about I really do work with some truly caring and intelligent people, despite the lack of management support? How about some of my coworkers actually get it when I start quoting Monty Python? Oooh, better yet, one of them suggested that we should only be able to talk like a pirate during meetings. Heh, I'm feeling better already. And then there's the fact that one of them brought in baked goods at lunch time when I couldn't go out for lunch because of a meeting (it was for the office, but I could at least justify eating a yummy bagel with cream cheese and cinnamon). And I have one co-worker who has adopted the motto "Run and live", and will share that philosophy at the most inopportune times (yes, this is positive ... nothing better than someone running past your office squealing "Run and live" when you're frustrated with what you're doing). My daughters are both healthy, cute (I may be biased on this one), relatively happy, and despite my poor example, interested in spiritual things. I've actually started reading the Bible again nightly and praying more (I mean more than "Please G-d, help me make my numbers"). I'm not reading as much as I'd like, but at least I can listen to books on tape. My boss talks to me daily, which usually means you aren't on the layoff list (beware when you boss starts avoiding you). Despite my visiting mother, I've managed to exercise three times so far this week. My husband has been nice to my visiting mother, not setting her off more than once (harder than it sounds - she tends to be surly, but that's another rant). And I've edited a couple more chapters of the book. I just wish I knew if it were any good or not (I just hate wasting my time). So all in all, not bad, eh?

Nothing to see, move along ...

I'm having one of those not much to say periods, which begs the question why am I talking about the fact that I have nothing to talk about. It's just that things seem to have settled into a comfortable rut. I get up. I go to work. I duck as much as I can. I go home and do family things. I try to write. I try to exercise. Lots of trying, but I'm not sure of the value.

Gah. Another entry in depression 'r us. I'm sick of it. I'm really not that bummed out. I think I'm just an antisocial person who's forced to be much more social than I want to be. Wait, that's not it. I'm an antisocial person who craves person contact but doesn't like the work it takes to maintain the relationships? Yeah, that's better (in a not sort of way). I'd like to be outgoing, honest. It just takes so much darn work.

It's always something...

You know, it seems like I can always find something to whine about. Why is that? It's not like my life sucks beyond the telling of it - far from it. So why am I always looking at the bad. Near as I can tell there are a couple of really warped reasons for it. One, if I look for the bad and the bad happens, I'm not nearly disappointed. And as bad as that reason sounds, it's nothing compared to the neuroses exhibited by reason number two. And what is that profound piece of logic? So long as I worry about the situation, there will be nothing to worry about. The minute I allow myself to relax, things'll go to hell in a handbasket. So by keeping myself constantly stressed, I can prevent bad things from happening, right? OK, so where are those men in the white suits with their big pills that make me see the pretty colors?

The sad thing is I realize how neurotic this all is, but I still don't seem to be able to back away from the thought process. Maybe that's why I like writing. I can make other people as neurotic as I actually am, taking it to it's logical extreme and demonstrate that I do realized it's a cracked way to live. Not that I'm going to change my own behavior anytime soon. Noooo. As hatgirl likes to quote, "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you." Geesh. Somebody pass the Ritalin.

Help, Mr. Wizard, I Don't Wanna Be A ...

Anybody else remember Tutor the Turtle? It's an old cartoon featuring a turtle named (ironically enough) Tutor. Tutor was never happy with what he was doing. He always wanted to be doing something else, so he'd go to Mr. Wizard and tell him that he wanted to be a [blank] (race car driver, chef, you fill in the blank). Of course, things would quickly deteriorate, and Tutor would exclaim, "Help Mr. Wizard, I don't wanna be a [blank]!" And Mr. Wizard would pull him back, ending each show with a sad nod and a "Tutor, my boy. Be what you is, not what you is not. Them that do this is the happiest lot."

Anyway, days like today make me feel like Tutor. Only I don't have a Mr. Wizard to pull me out. I have to do that myself. What I hate is that it seems a lot of the time, I'm not the one asking for the problem. Thanks to some folks who aren't doing what they are supposed to be doing, the job is one swirling cesspool of impending disaster. I don't mind fixing something once or twice, but everyday for the past week and a half, things that I had asked to be taken care of weren't, and now I have to deal with the fallout. [I know this is a bit cryptic, but hey, it's job stuff and .... well, I do need the paycheck.] Gah. I just wish I had a Mr. Wizard once in awhile.

What Is It Good For?

There was recently a gay pride-fest in my town. I wouldn't have even known about it except it was held in a park that we drove past on our way to a movie. Even then I wouldn't have known except for the protesters - the ones with the "This way to hell" signs. What amazed me was that not only did the protesters think that yelling at people going to this festival was a great way to spend a Saturday, but that they also felt it was important enough to have professional signs made up. These weren't your run of the mill, homemade cardboard signs, oh no. These were professionally printed on cloth signs, so they could use them again. Now, as you know from my earlier posts, I don't begrudge them their right to protest. I'm just trying to figure out why they were doing it. What purpose was it to serve? Was it to show that they think these people are wrong and sinful? It sure as hell wasn't to show them how loving the Christian community can be. It did nothing but push people away from Christ - let's face it, if I were going to this gathering, I would have been horridly offended by the signs. So what was the purpose? Did they really think that the people going there thought everyone supported their ideas? Um, hate to say it, but the only reason there are things like a pridefest is because they KNOW people are condemning them - so what purpose did the protest serve? More importantly, did the protesters ever think to evaluate their methods in light of WWJD? The Jesus I know about condemned the Pharisees for their hypocrisy. He tended to be quite accepting of the everyday sinner, wanting to show them there was another way. Do you think that any of these types of protests accomplished that?

And more importantly, do you think their concern was for the immortal souls of the people attending this festival? I don't think they gave a crap about anyone but themselves. They wanted to show how holy and morally superior they were. Sounds a bit like the Pharisees, doesn't it? Am I being judgemental? Yeah. But I hate it when people give my G-d a bad name while trying to make themselves look superior. Kinda ticks me off.

Quick, Alert the Media...

I'm actually feeling pretty laid back - and dare I say happy - today. Maybe it's just because it's Friday. Maybe it's because some projects that I've been backing are suddenly getting funded. Don't know and don't care. I'm just happy that I don't feel like I'm being pelted with pointed sticks. OK, yeah, so it's early - early enough for things to change. I don't care. I'm going to go with this feeling for a change. It's an odd one for me of late.

Which leads to the question of why is being happy an odd feeling? I mean, really, life is pretty good. No money worries, two sweet children, loving husband ... no pony or Angela Jolie body yet, but I'm working on it. So why do I so often choose to dwell on the negative? It's almost like I'm afraid not to, that if I allow myself to go with the flow, G-d will smite me or something (or maybe that's just hatgirl). How silly is that? It's like the old, warped view of Puritans that they stay up at night worrying that someone, somewhere might possibly be happy. I don't want to dwell on the negative - or at least I don't think I do. Maybe it's my fear of my own innate laziness, that if I don't apply constant pressure, I will become the lady on the couch eating bon-bons and watching Jerry Springer (speaking of which, is Jerry still on the air). All I know is it's times like this that I really miss bike riding. Used to be when I'd tense out, I'd go for a couple hour ride and at the end, my mind would be clear. Somehow machines in the basement don't give me the same kind of rush. Oh well, I guess I should cheer up. Maybe in another ten years one of the girls will go biking with me. Of course, by then, I'll probably be back on training wheels or something.

Goals ... Objectives ... Gee, I hope they happens

Just thinking that I've started to get some traction on some stuff that's been bugging me, all without writing down my goals. I always figured that writing down your goals was a good thing, as it made them more real, more like a to do list. Unfortunately, I hate someone telling me what to do ... even myself ... so the more I wrote them down, the less chance I had of actually doing them. It's what caused my Rimmer loop - I didn't get any of my goals accomplished, so I'd spend time revising them rather than actually trying to achieve anything, leading to a few more days slipping by. Pretty soon weeks and months have passed. But still ... I can't help but want to write them down so I can cross them off the list. Is this neurotic or what?

And Now For Something Completely Different ...

Blech. Getting tired of my own belly-aching so I'm going to try something more lighthearted (see, I told you my musings tend to get dull and depressing). And for the record, there are no men with taperecorders in their nostrils in the entire entry:

1. How is it that my oh-so-sophisticated 7 year old daughter realizes there is no Santa and no Easter bunny, but she still believes in the tooth fairy? I suspect it may be a money grab on her part, but still ...

2. Why is it that a bad book suddenly becomes not so bad when it's on sale for US$0.10 per each?

3. Why is it that the very day you decide to start dieting, someone brings in a chococolate, chocolate chip cake?

4. Why do I feel more tired if I don't exercise, but when I do exercise, while I do have more energy, all that energy is expended exercising? I mean, really, what's the advantage of that?

5. Does anyone actually enjoy 90 degree weather? And why is it, the older I get, the more I prefer the 60's, yet I still don't like the supercold of winter?

6. If I so dislike my cat, why was I worried all last week when she wouldn't eat?

7. What is the purpose of weeding anyway? Aren't you really just making a more inviting spot for other weeds?

8. How is it that when you are desperate, clothing magically gets cleaner by sitting in a pile on a chair? (or is that tmi?)

9. In today's tell-all world, how far out has the line been pushed for too-much-information?

10. Why isn't chocolate considered a health food.

That's all for now.

What is success?

OK, Jynx suggested that I make a list of things that would make me feel successful. I'd like to say that being faithful to the whole Micah 6:8 "do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God" is enough to make me feel successful, but I'd be lying. While I know it's supposed to be what we aim for, it just feels like words. Nice words, but kind of hollow and shapeless all the same. So what do I want? I want to feel successful at work. I want someone to say "Good job" once in awhile. Yeah, I know I'm looking for validation from external sources which isn't exactly the most mentally stable thing to do, but if I'm being honest, that is what I want. I want to be able to come into work without worrying about the next layoff. I want to have a firm grasp of what is expected of me. I want to go home and have enough energy to enjoy my family, to be involved and loving to my family. I want to have the inclination to actually do something special for the family. I want to be able to accomplish stuff in the evening ... scrapbooking, writing, reading, cleaning, gardening, whatever. I want to go to bed feeling confident that I did everything I could that day. Oh, and I want a pony and a winning lottery ticket and a body like Angela Jolie. That's not too much to ask, is it?

So ... Now What?

Not sure why or what I'm going to type here, which means I should probably step away from the keyboard. Now. But a lot of emotions and feelings seem to be swirling around in me, and since why should I be the only one bothered with this stuff, here's my ramble...

Physically, I ache all over from doing a bit too much cleaning and gardening. The question I have is why am I spending so much time on stuff that is transient in nature? Who give a flying fig if there are weeds everywhere? And no matter how well I do these things, they will always need done again. Why do I spend my time on this stuff? Isn't there something more important I should be doing? Or is my life destined for total meaninglessness? How do I make a difference? Is it already too late? I've come to the conclusion that I'm not good at finishing things. Quite honestly, finishing things bores me. It's always kind of been like that. I don't know whether it is fear or what, but when things settle into routine, I tend to bail. In my job, I only like doing stuff when it's new. Once I've done it a time or two, I'm bored. That's not a very mature attitude. I think it'll also stop me from every doing anything of long term value.

But why do I care? The mass of men live lives of quiet desperation, right? Why should I be any different? I've been told all my life that I'm "special" - except, of course, by my family, but that's a whole other rant. When I became a Christian, I was told that the whole floor of my dorm was praying for me, thinking if I could put my energy to use for the Lord, wow, what a force I could be. But then I became a Christian and promptly did nothing great. I got a job and was told how quickly I picked up on stuff, how creative my mind was. Got a bunch a great reviews to back it up. Now here I sit, almost 20 years later, fearing for my job and waiting for weekends, not wanting to be promoted again. I was told I had some ability to write, so I finally tried to write. Got a first draft finished and everything. And now I lack the ability/drive/motivation to edit the darn thing and see if I actually do have any ability. (Part of that one has to do with being dropped by some folks I considered friends, but that's another moan ... Let's face it, I'm ultimately responsible for me and what I do. Not them, me. So I'm the one who chose not to go further, but ...why?)

Is my life destined to be one unfinished project after another? Will I spend my time chasing transient goals because it's somehow easier than doing something meaningful? Will I ever feel successful in any aspect of my life? Don't get me wrong, I know I've had more success than many (as the world defines it), but it also seems so transient, so ... empty. Will I personally ever feel successful. Nevermind. Delete and rewind. Dwelling on this shit does nothing of value. So why do these thoughts keep invading my conscious mind?

Tolerance vs. Opinion

Yeah, I'm back. Let the rejoicing begin.

Anyway, going to get a bit serious here. I know, me? Go figure. I've just read something on a posting board where the person was pontificating about how tolerant they were and how they hated intolerance more than anything in the world ...blah, blah, blah, woof, woof, woof. In fact, they were so tolerant, I wouldn't have been surprised to see their brain dribble out their ear. Apparently, to be tolerant in this person's world view, you cannot judge or have an opinion on anything - that's intolerant. How hypocritical. So if your world view/faith view/whatever says that something is wrong, being consistent with that view is intolerant. I don't think so, Tim. H

Having an opinion is not the same as intolerance. Intolerance, to me, is going out and making sure anything that disagrees with your world view is destroyed. I don't like books about aliens, so I burn all the books about aliens. I don't like songs about drinking and bad love affairs, so I destroy every country album ever made. I don't like homosexuals, so I beat the crap out of them and make sure they know I think they are scum. That's intolerance. However, to say that I find books about witchcraft offensive or against my faith so I personally will not read them is not. That is an opinion. Saying that I am personally offended by songs with the word fuck every other lyric so I won't listen to it is not. Heck, even saying I don't want my kids to listen to them is not - that's just good parenting. Likewise, saying that in my faith, homosexuality is a sin and when asked, I will express this view is not intolerant so long as it doesn't change how you treat the person (hate the sin, love the sinner as they say). I get so tired of folks attacking primarily people of the Christian faith as intolerant when all they are doing is being consistent. Making a judgment based on your beliefs is not intolerant.

For the record, I am a fundamentalist Christian who is also socially VERY liberal. I have not yet made a personal decision on homosexuality for a number of reason I won't go into here. However, I cannot condemn anyone else for reaching a different opinion. So long as they treat people with the respect due any creation of God, I'm fine with whatever opinion you want to hold.

Choices

So much of life seems to be choices but so many people seem to abdicate responsibility. We act as though external forces have more control over what we do and what we are than we could ever have. And yet, it really does boil down to choices. Don't like your job? What's keeping you from choosing to change it? Money? Then your choice is money. Not that that's bad. But understand that you do make the choice. It isn't forced on you no matter how much you want to believe it is. Feel like you aren't getting anything done, that you are just treading water? It is because you choose to. Hard sentiments, I know. I don't want to face them any more than anyone else does.

When I was in high school, I had/got to prepare a speech to try to become a commencement speaker. My topic was the fear inherent in being nobody but yourself. Needless to say, I didn't get selected. But as I type this, I realize the issues I raised almost 20 years ago are still relevant to me today. Whoever I am, I chose to be this way - whether by active choice or passive neglect. Whether I am happy or unhappy with who I am, I am exactly who I choose to be. The only question is whether or not I really want to be who I am. And I do .... with some alterations. But that's ok. That's a choice too.

Hersheypark Happy Post Age 40

OK, so we took the girls and a friend to Hersheypark yesterday. Remember when you first started going to amusement parks, how every ride was so exciting and the only thing you could say is, "Let's do it again!!"? Somewhere along the road to "growing up", you lose that gene. You also lose the gene that says spinning around in a circle repeatedly is not nauseating, but fun. And the one that says walking around in wet clothes all day is fun. And the one that appreciates eating tons of junk food with no ill effect. It was actually a lot more fun than I'm letting on, but I do have to admit that roller coaster after roller coaster has lost its appeal. The biggest problem is the morning after. After walking around all day, carrying/giving piggy-back rides to all the kids, I ache. A lot. I want to not move today. Not going to happen. What happened to the days when I could bounce back up and do it all again the next day?

A side note: I am so not a girl. Had my hair cut and colored this weekend. Feeling a lot like the long lost Beatle - It's too dark and a bit mullet-y for my taste. Just in time for vacation. Fun. Fun.

What Do You Want to be When You Grow Up?

As you may have noticed, I have a real love-hate thing going on with my job. (I know, who'da thunk it?) I ended up in the position that I am in because my mother wouldn't send me to college for what I wanted to take (English, believe it or not), and it seemed like a cheap, painless way to make money (meaning I could make a good living without going on for an advanced degree - yes, I am that lazy). And while the money part has turned out ok, I guess I never realized how annoying it could be to do something you couldn't care less about day after day after day after ...

So anyway, it got me thinking, if I could start over again, what would I do for a living? I'm not talking about becoming a ballerina or middle linebacker for the Steelers. I'm talking honest-to-goodness-in-the-realm-of-possibilities job. Truth be told, I'd rather go with independently wealthy and travel the world, but I'm guessing that might not be too realistic either. So if I could have my dream job, what would it be? I could only come up with two - English professor at a small, state college (less publish-or-perish pressures) or archeologist. Neither is likely to happen, mind you, but it's nice to know there is something out there that I think I could enjoy doing. Meanwhile, I continue to slog away. Hey, 20 more years and I'm outta here.

I'ma gonna kick your skeletal arse ...

all the way down to the donut shop and force-feed you jelly-filled, powdered sugar donuts. Ever feel like you'd be doing Hollywood a favor if you did that to about half the actresses out there? Why do fairly attractive women think looking skeletal and haggard makes them oh-so-much-more attractive? What ever happened to athletic, or G-d forbid, voluptuous? Why has our weight obsesses society convinced these women to starve themselves? Don't know what I'm talking about? See whatserface Lohan. See Lori Loughlin (I remember her from the Edge of Night - shut up, I know I'm dating myself - and she used to be really pretty. Now she looks like someone stretched her skin too tight over a bag of bones). Who on G-d's green earth finds this attractive? What is so sexy about a twig with water balloons strapped on the front?

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock

"Time is but an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so."

Perhaps one of my favorite quotes of all times. Time seems to rule our lives. There's either too much of it (if you're waiting for something) or not nearly enough. It is spent, wasted, or killed. The fallacy is that it always proceeds at the same pace: always 60 minutes in an hour, always 24 hours in a day, 7 days a week and so on. But while technically all hours are the same, I find the older I get the faster time seems to go. I recall a quote from my younger days (pull up a rocker and listen to your cracked auntie) that said something to the effect the mistake that young people make is that they believe the second half of their lives will be as long as the first. My life seems to be spinning incredibly fast, like a marble in one of those gravity wells as it approaches the center. Oh, I don't mean I'm going to kick off any time soon (at least I hope not), but I have to admit I've been having a harder and harder time managing my time. It seems like after I get everything done that has to be done, there's no time left for anything else. And if there is time, there is seldom enough energy.

Truthfully, that's where the whole paranoia about writing comes into play. I have hundreds of ideas dancing in my head, but there never seems to be enough time to write them all down. I kind of made a promise to myself to not write something new until I edited the book I already finished, but now I'm not even doing that. I want to write, it's just that I feel guilty using my time to do so - there's always something else that needs done. I know, I know, just set aside a certain amount of time to write everyday. But that's easier said than done - what if I don't WANT to write that day? What if I want to write more but I have this arbitrary limit?

*Sigh* I feel a lot like Rimmer from Red Dwarf anymore, continually revising my schedule to the point where I don't have time to actually do anything.

The Life And Times of the Barely Competent

Went home to visit my family this weekend - an activity that always engenders severe introspection. You see, while I admire what my mother has been able to do with the life she's been dealt, I desperately don't want to be like her. She tends to go through the motions of life with a passion for nothing. There's nothing that she seems to want to do, nowhere she wants to go. When she does do something, it's because someone asked her, not necessarily because she wants to do it.

So here I sit and pray fervently that I will not be like that, that somehow I will be different. Then I look at my life. Now don't get me wrong, from external appearances, I have a pretty nice life. Heck, from my point of view, it's not necessarily too bad. Good paying job, husband who loves me, two kids, nice house (white picket fence optional). So why am I not more satisfied? At the risk of sounding like I'm boasting, I'm one of those folks who people expected to do great things. Always near the top of my class, a writer since the third grade. When I started my job, I threw myself into it and got a top rating. The top ratings continues, so I continued. Finally, twenty years and several downsizings later, the top ratings stopped. Now it feels as though I'm perceived as a somewhat competent business person. I sit here twenty years later in a job that I don't particularly like and feel as though it's too late to change.

What happened to the "promise"? Why does it feel like I'm destined to float through life and not really matter? How could I have not done something more with my life? Oh, I still haven't given up. I write. Sometimes. When the mood strikes. When I have time. I finished a book, but to really do anything with it, I would have to finish editing it. But for some reason, I hesitate. Am I afraid if I finish, fearing that if I do, I'll have to send it out and find out this is another area where my "promise" has fizzled? Gah. I hate feeling like this. I mean, I know that corporate America specializes in making you feel like shit. But still...where is my passion? Am I going to look back in another 20 years and realize that my life has been wasted? Tomorrow never comes, or so they say. Why do I keep saying tomorrow, I'll get my life together?

What are you, chicken or something?

No, ostrich, actually. Didn't you read the title? But seriously, why does it always seem easier to avoid conflict than facing it straight on? Or at least when you are the person who has to make the decision. I have no problem cheering from the sideline, urging friends to Fight! Win! Fight! Aren't I just the prettiest plus-size cheerleader? But when it comes time for me to be in the hotseat, suddenly fighting back doesn't seem like such a good idea. But what if they don't like me, I whine to myself. What if I'm wrong and make a fool of myself? Blah, blah, blah. Thank heavens I also have an overdeveloped sense of JUSTICE (cue opera music)!!! Or at least my perception that life is supposed to be fair. Says who? Well....says .... my mom? ....no?....G-d? ....er, He seems to be more interested in letting folks make their own mistakes, so probably not...My high school principal? .... um, you have gone to high school, that bastion of fairness and caring (or maybe not)....

No, the world is not fair. Boo hoo. Doesn't absolve us from doing our best to tilt the odds a bit.

Whaddaya Mean Those Solid White Lines Aren't Discretionary?

All righty, time for something terribly witty and insightful. *insert nervous whistling here* Or maybe not. As I mentioned before, part of my neuroses is that I know that I am not being logical. Take my job. Please. *ba-dum-bump* In case you can't tell, I have a real love-hate thing going on with my job. I seriously dislike what I do for a living. No SERIOUSLY. To the point of contemplating whether having a heart attack or some minor accident that requires hospitalization might be preferable to going to work. Not so unusual you say. Here's the neurotic part: I live in constant terror of losing said job. Like I said, cracked.

Anyway, today's task was to to drive five to six hours one way for a one hour presentation. And then to drive five to six hours back because that obviously isn't far enough away to warrant spending the night away from home (I should mention that said company also has taken to only emptying the garbage a couple of days a week as a cost savings - so be careful what day you order Chinese for lunch). So I haul my rather sizable butt out of bed at 4 am and plop myself into the company car to drive to locations previously unknown for the next several hours (thank G-d for mapquest). Trip up is blissfully uneventful. Unfortunately, so is the presentation, which basically means I wasted a day presenting to people who had as much interest as a Catholic at a Baptist convention. So after putting a roomful of people into a coma, I'm ready to head back. One problem - splitting, vice-around-the-temples migraine. No problem, I have meds, right? Wrong. Taking said meds is a bit like being drunk. So do I drive with a splitting headache and hope that the road is straight enough in various locations to close my eyes for a few minutes, or do I take the meds, knowing they put me to sleep when I'm already sleep deprived? (I did opt for no drugs, thank you very much).

Have I mentioned lately that I love my job?

What the Hell Is An Ostrich Doing On Ice Skates?

OK, this is my second attempt at a blog. First one fizzled out when I realized it would depress even the Teletubbies. So why start again? Beats me ... peer pressure? Sure, that's as good a reason as any. And yes, I would jump off the bridge .... why do you ask?

*ahem* So what exactly does an ostrich on ice skates have to do with any of this? Not much. It just seemed like the worst possible thing for an ostrich to try (well, actually, water skiing is probably worse, but that's just cruel). And that seemed somehow appropriate for me. Suffice to say I sometimes (well, a lot of the times) make truly bizarre choices. And what makes it even more bizarre is that I know they are bizarre, even before I make them. Does that stop me? Heavens no! Why should it?

So if you're interesting in the neurotic ramblings of an ostrich on ice skates, you've come to the right place. If nothing else, you should have a fun time pointing and laughing.