I didn't go to work today. One of the higher ups called me and offered me a supervisor position at another store.
I laughed so hard. Not that I didn't think about it at all. But it was just hilarious.
I did one of the most irresponsible things one can do at work. And they want to promote me. I know it's because they don't often encounter employees that are like me, and I'm flattered. But I am not in the business of being taken advantage of.
So we'll see what happens ;)
In other news, I decided to use the day to clean the apartment and catch up on some tasks I'd been putting off. One of those tasks was hanging my living room curtains.
I take a long time to do just about anything, and those of you who know me are aware of this. I was making good time with the curtains though. I had the level, the tape measure, the drill (I even looked up the drill bits to make sure I was using the correct one), the anchors and screws, a pencil behind my ear, and a hammer. And here's the bottom line.
Don't use your knees to secure the hammer while balancing yourself on the arm of a loveseat and trying to drill the holes for the anchors. They just were a little too small. Or the anchors were too weak. Or the wall is a little too shallow before it hits the brick. The same thing happened to Nick while hanging the coat rack.
Except he didn't gash his foot with a hammer.
And here's an honest plug for the Green Machine. I'm so glad he had that thing. If you have kids (or you're accident prone like yours truly) and you don't have one, you are crazy. I left a trail of blood from the arm of the loveseat to the kitchen sink. The Green Machine will clean it. It once took care of an entire bottle of red wine that I dropped and smashed onto the carpet of the apartment we lived in before we moved here. (Thanks to the Green Machine and my friend "Church" for that!) Ok, there's 3 mentions of the name. Where's my money, bitches?
I keep thinking of Dexter.
I better go clean up this blood...
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Saturday, June 25, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
A little poetry ;)
Because of the end of my last post, I wanted to include this poem here on my blog also. I wrote this one of the first times I realized that I felt this way. I was studying my ass off with books surrounding me while Nick sat at his computer playing World of Warcraft. Not that there is anything wrong with him working and coming home and playing at all. And I'm not saying that he's stagnant or even satisfied with where he is; he just handles the "now" better than I do when it's not everything he wants it to be. And he was releasing stress with a game that he loves. I was in the mood to do something that I loved and not something I was required to do (that I didn't particularly love).
I'm not calling anyone stupid (there we go again), but I was thinking of a way that I would be able to abandon my ambitions and just exist and be satisfied. But I realized that wouldn't work for me. I'm not made for that.
Program
Sometimes I wish I were
Ignorant of passions, and therefore
Irresponsible.
Understandably so
Because no
Sane person would depend
On my lack of ambition.
Oh, I wish this work
Were gone--
The television on
So I could hear the censors
Covering those "real" people,
Repeating sounds like checkout lanes
In Grocery stores—
No!—
Maybe I could be
Wise enough still
To avoid
The Jersey Shores.
Watch my sitcoms,
Go to work,
Come home,
Repeat.
Syndicated,
Placated?
No. No satisfaction,
But to be the
Artist who produces
Other people’s wastes
Of time.
~SAB
Thanks for reading. This was also one I've been using to play with drop line when I was reading about it. I think it's quite effective although this still needs some work. Always more work.
I'm not calling anyone stupid (there we go again), but I was thinking of a way that I would be able to abandon my ambitions and just exist and be satisfied. But I realized that wouldn't work for me. I'm not made for that.
Program
Sometimes I wish I were
Ignorant of passions, and therefore
Irresponsible.
Understandably so
Because no
Sane person would depend
On my lack of ambition.
Oh, I wish this work
Were gone--
The television on
So I could hear the censors
Covering those "real" people,
Repeating sounds like checkout lanes
In Grocery stores—
No!—
Maybe I could be
Wise enough still
To avoid
The Jersey Shores.
Watch my sitcoms,
Go to work,
Come home,
Repeat.
Syndicated,
Placated?
No. No satisfaction,
But to be the
Artist who produces
Other people’s wastes
Of time.
~SAB
Thanks for reading. This was also one I've been using to play with drop line when I was reading about it. I think it's quite effective although this still needs some work. Always more work.
A little weary...
I think today may have been my last day at work. I told a couple of my co-workers that I may not come in tomorrow morning. I hate to do that, but it's not going to hurt anyone. It will actually help them. They may make more than a couple dollars an hour if one less person is there.
I had an interview yesterday and it went well. I was supposed to get a call today at 3pm but the guy hasn't called yet. Maybe he doesn't need me, but that's ok. I have an interview on Monday. Now, I'm supposed to work on Monday but that's why I figured I'd just go ahead and quit. Burn those bridges down so I can't even go back there in desperate times. That's a desperate measure I don't care to take again.
I was telling my mom about it and I mentioned that the same person who yelled at me for being loud while filling the ice was telling me goodbye today. She said, "I'll see ya tomorrow. Work like I taught ya girl." Um. Here's the thing about that. She hasn't taught me anything. The very person she likes to compare herself to (and she thinks she's so much better) is one of the people who truly taught me to work my ass off. To her, if you had time to lean, you had time to clean. Hell, if you had time to go to the bathroom, you should be working instead. However, I was perplexed by my current antagonist's remark and I told my mother. She laughed and replied, "Yup. Just don't go to work tomorrow and that's exactly what she taught you."
Lol. I love my mom.
The job I'm interviewing for is nothing prestigious. It's quite the opposite actually. But it's easy and it's extremely flexible. It only pays $7.95/hour but I'm honestly ready to try something that doesn't take everything out of my mind, body & soul on a daily basis. And at least I'll know what kind of money to expect; I can count on that. And a friendly work environment? Yes please. I'll take a couple of those.
Nick has been jumping through hoops to get a particular job since February. We just found out yesterday that he didn't get the job. It boils down to him not being able to pass a test because of his carpal tunnel. Nobody bothered to tell him that he should practice and use the 4-5 months to strengthen his trigger finger squeeze. We were really looking forward to a change. A regular schedule meant more family time. Being able to spend holidays together. Insurance. Tuition reimbursement. Job security because this job doesn't shut down in the winter with the possibility of not re-opening. I feel so bad for him. And me.
I'm not wanting to just blog to complain. These things are just irritating to me right now and I'm so tired. We are both hard workers and should be able to make a living that doesn't include deals with the devil. Here's my weary soul. Would you like fries with that?
On the bright side (hopefully), I turned in my internship application yesterday in hopes for a paid position. I should hear back in the next couple of weeks, which is good because I can plan for something else if it doesn't work out.
In the meantime, I'm still researching low-residency programs for a master's of fine arts in creative writing. The degree should be attainable while I work a full time job and still have some family time (at least a good couple days a week) because I need to learn how to be disciplined in my writing anyway. Most of the coursework would be online and I could complete it on my own time. It'll cost me about $30,000+ but I assume it will be worth it eventually. And it puts me a step closer to a doctorate. I'm trying to figure out if it's doable. Paying for it, working, allowing Nick time to work on something great for his/our future.
Life is a pain in the ass when you want better for yourself all the time. Sometimes I just wish that I enjoyed working for the sake of working and then I could come home and enjoy the stuff I pay for. The end.
But that's not it. I want to keep my passions alive. I want to be smarter, stronger, more secure. I don't want to end up like my mom, who is about out of money and still waiting on her disability to go through. I want to be able to retire and take care of myself and my loved ones and not go through that worry and pain.
So I'll have to sacrifice some sleep and work my ass off to get there.
I had an interview yesterday and it went well. I was supposed to get a call today at 3pm but the guy hasn't called yet. Maybe he doesn't need me, but that's ok. I have an interview on Monday. Now, I'm supposed to work on Monday but that's why I figured I'd just go ahead and quit. Burn those bridges down so I can't even go back there in desperate times. That's a desperate measure I don't care to take again.
I was telling my mom about it and I mentioned that the same person who yelled at me for being loud while filling the ice was telling me goodbye today. She said, "I'll see ya tomorrow. Work like I taught ya girl." Um. Here's the thing about that. She hasn't taught me anything. The very person she likes to compare herself to (and she thinks she's so much better) is one of the people who truly taught me to work my ass off. To her, if you had time to lean, you had time to clean. Hell, if you had time to go to the bathroom, you should be working instead. However, I was perplexed by my current antagonist's remark and I told my mother. She laughed and replied, "Yup. Just don't go to work tomorrow and that's exactly what she taught you."
Lol. I love my mom.
The job I'm interviewing for is nothing prestigious. It's quite the opposite actually. But it's easy and it's extremely flexible. It only pays $7.95/hour but I'm honestly ready to try something that doesn't take everything out of my mind, body & soul on a daily basis. And at least I'll know what kind of money to expect; I can count on that. And a friendly work environment? Yes please. I'll take a couple of those.
Nick has been jumping through hoops to get a particular job since February. We just found out yesterday that he didn't get the job. It boils down to him not being able to pass a test because of his carpal tunnel. Nobody bothered to tell him that he should practice and use the 4-5 months to strengthen his trigger finger squeeze. We were really looking forward to a change. A regular schedule meant more family time. Being able to spend holidays together. Insurance. Tuition reimbursement. Job security because this job doesn't shut down in the winter with the possibility of not re-opening. I feel so bad for him. And me.
I'm not wanting to just blog to complain. These things are just irritating to me right now and I'm so tired. We are both hard workers and should be able to make a living that doesn't include deals with the devil. Here's my weary soul. Would you like fries with that?
On the bright side (hopefully), I turned in my internship application yesterday in hopes for a paid position. I should hear back in the next couple of weeks, which is good because I can plan for something else if it doesn't work out.
In the meantime, I'm still researching low-residency programs for a master's of fine arts in creative writing. The degree should be attainable while I work a full time job and still have some family time (at least a good couple days a week) because I need to learn how to be disciplined in my writing anyway. Most of the coursework would be online and I could complete it on my own time. It'll cost me about $30,000+ but I assume it will be worth it eventually. And it puts me a step closer to a doctorate. I'm trying to figure out if it's doable. Paying for it, working, allowing Nick time to work on something great for his/our future.
Life is a pain in the ass when you want better for yourself all the time. Sometimes I just wish that I enjoyed working for the sake of working and then I could come home and enjoy the stuff I pay for. The end.
But that's not it. I want to keep my passions alive. I want to be smarter, stronger, more secure. I don't want to end up like my mom, who is about out of money and still waiting on her disability to go through. I want to be able to retire and take care of myself and my loved ones and not go through that worry and pain.
So I'll have to sacrifice some sleep and work my ass off to get there.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
A little disillusioned...
I spent yesterday morning swabbing the decks of a sinking ship. Because there were no guests, I decided to clean some stuff. I made $2 in my first hour of work. Add that to my $2.13 and then pray for minimum wage. The business isn't good; it's not just summer, either (for those of you who are unaware, summer is a bad time for restaurant business all around).
I disapprove of openly defacing my employer, so I'm not going to mention any names. Few of you know where I just started working anyway. I don't think this job is going to last for me, unfortunately. In fact, I have an interview tomorrow (not at a restaurant!). If the interview doesn't go well, I have plans to apply somewhere else (or somewheres elses if need be...I have to get out of where I am).
Sooo, why do I feel so negatively about a job I've only been working for five days?
Well, first of all, when I quit the best serving job in our area last year, I vowed to stay out of the restaurant business. However, jobs aren't easy to come by right now, and I realized that with my final semester of my bachelor's degree approaching and my internship on the horizon, I should probably find something flexible where I can still make money if I have to cut my hours to two days a week.
I also desperately wanted to get a schedule that would work out so that I could a) let Fisher go to daycare because he missed his friends very badly, b) allow me to still spend time with Fisher, and c) allow me to still spend time with Nick. Seems simple, right? It's kinda not...so I took what I could get.
I'm starting to realize I'm going to have to make some sacrifices somewhere. We'll see what happens.
But firstly, I have to jump ship. Quickly. There are some standards I cannot compromise. Here are some of the reasons:
I heard that if business doesn't improve quickly, my store is shutting down.
It took me four days to make what I made in one day at my old job.
At that rate, It would take me two whole weeks just to make my car payment. And it's only $168.
There is a meanness in the store. I got yelled at today for filling ice because it was "too damn loud." Excuse me, but if you find a way to dump frozen water onto frozen water inside a stainless steel vat without making noise...please enlighten me. I hear my superiors talking about things they think I'm doing wrong (such as said example or stopping to grab dishes on the way back to fix some drinks) and NEVER praising my hard work and pleased guests. Hell, they don't even say the things to my face, and that's disappointing also. I would have liked to walk out after hearing that I was working the way I've been taught. I don't STOP working while I'm on the clock except for short bathroom and drink/eat moments just to keep myself from getting sick because...
Nobody has ever offered me a break. Even on today's 8 hour shift.
I swear they are stuck in the '50s. I have witnessed blatant sexism and racism. This particular "chain" seems to focus more on taking people down and treating them like they are stupid and they can't do any better than building them up and making them proud of themselves and where they work. If you kick people when they are down, they'll never leave you, right? Not all of them (me lol). I've also heard that this happens in relationships. Oh wait, that's happened to me too ;) I think this is my least favorite thing of all. Yeah, it is.
It's unclean. I have a high standard of cleanliness and I love to take pride in my workplace. I once quit a job after working for only an hour because my feet were sticking to the carpet when I walked. I hate when a health department inspection has more than one critical violation (5) and even more non-critical violations. I am not proud of that. And I see it this way: No, we don't get paid well enough to clean like crazy, but it is in our best interest to clean when we are not busy. It will show our guests (and the health inspector) that we have a clean store and therefore, they will return and they will tell their friends. This means more money for the business, which also means more money for me. Also, it just helps pass the time, but I guess a lot of people are happy to just stand there or go smoke (again).
How are we supposed to wash our hands without hot water? They have disconnected the hot water to the front, including guest bathrooms. I don't know the reason. I was told not to ask. But I know that I don't like it. Oh, hand sanitizer...that's right. I'm excited now!!
Plus, my poor body is in an uproar because I refuse to poop in the public restroom where the people who eat food I serve to them also have to potty. I don't want to hear/see/smell my waitstaff shitting, do you? Gross. Really I don't want to do that with anyone, and I prefer a private bathroom anywhere. (I know where the private/locked restrooms are on campus for such a reason...2nd floor library, 2nd floor student union). Sadly, we have an employee restroom in the back, but the day they removed the padlock to allow us to peacefully release our body waste, someone childishly smoked in there. Now it's padlocked again. It makes me feel like a child. Really, everyone gets enough smoke breaks if you ask me. I know I quit smoking, but everywhere else I have worked gives smoke breaks maybe once a shift. Some of these people are unhappy to take two or three per shift? Piss on that. But don't shit on it because your turds have hidden themselves deep in your body for days now and will only release little machine gun rabbit pellets once a day.
I have more to complain about, but I'll just leave it at that. It's really just not for me.
I didn't even really have any good jokes for this one, then I thought of a couple and went back and added them. It just pisses me off. I did like the metaphor at the beginning, and that is how it feels.
I opt not to drown.
Peace.
I disapprove of openly defacing my employer, so I'm not going to mention any names. Few of you know where I just started working anyway. I don't think this job is going to last for me, unfortunately. In fact, I have an interview tomorrow (not at a restaurant!). If the interview doesn't go well, I have plans to apply somewhere else (or somewheres elses if need be...I have to get out of where I am).
Sooo, why do I feel so negatively about a job I've only been working for five days?
Well, first of all, when I quit the best serving job in our area last year, I vowed to stay out of the restaurant business. However, jobs aren't easy to come by right now, and I realized that with my final semester of my bachelor's degree approaching and my internship on the horizon, I should probably find something flexible where I can still make money if I have to cut my hours to two days a week.
I also desperately wanted to get a schedule that would work out so that I could a) let Fisher go to daycare because he missed his friends very badly, b) allow me to still spend time with Fisher, and c) allow me to still spend time with Nick. Seems simple, right? It's kinda not...so I took what I could get.
I'm starting to realize I'm going to have to make some sacrifices somewhere. We'll see what happens.
But firstly, I have to jump ship. Quickly. There are some standards I cannot compromise. Here are some of the reasons:
I heard that if business doesn't improve quickly, my store is shutting down.
It took me four days to make what I made in one day at my old job.
At that rate, It would take me two whole weeks just to make my car payment. And it's only $168.
There is a meanness in the store. I got yelled at today for filling ice because it was "too damn loud." Excuse me, but if you find a way to dump frozen water onto frozen water inside a stainless steel vat without making noise...please enlighten me. I hear my superiors talking about things they think I'm doing wrong (such as said example or stopping to grab dishes on the way back to fix some drinks) and NEVER praising my hard work and pleased guests. Hell, they don't even say the things to my face, and that's disappointing also. I would have liked to walk out after hearing that I was working the way I've been taught. I don't STOP working while I'm on the clock except for short bathroom and drink/eat moments just to keep myself from getting sick because...
Nobody has ever offered me a break. Even on today's 8 hour shift.
I swear they are stuck in the '50s. I have witnessed blatant sexism and racism. This particular "chain" seems to focus more on taking people down and treating them like they are stupid and they can't do any better than building them up and making them proud of themselves and where they work. If you kick people when they are down, they'll never leave you, right? Not all of them (me lol). I've also heard that this happens in relationships. Oh wait, that's happened to me too ;) I think this is my least favorite thing of all. Yeah, it is.
It's unclean. I have a high standard of cleanliness and I love to take pride in my workplace. I once quit a job after working for only an hour because my feet were sticking to the carpet when I walked. I hate when a health department inspection has more than one critical violation (5) and even more non-critical violations. I am not proud of that. And I see it this way: No, we don't get paid well enough to clean like crazy, but it is in our best interest to clean when we are not busy. It will show our guests (and the health inspector) that we have a clean store and therefore, they will return and they will tell their friends. This means more money for the business, which also means more money for me. Also, it just helps pass the time, but I guess a lot of people are happy to just stand there or go smoke (again).
How are we supposed to wash our hands without hot water? They have disconnected the hot water to the front, including guest bathrooms. I don't know the reason. I was told not to ask. But I know that I don't like it. Oh, hand sanitizer...that's right. I'm excited now!!
Plus, my poor body is in an uproar because I refuse to poop in the public restroom where the people who eat food I serve to them also have to potty. I don't want to hear/see/smell my waitstaff shitting, do you? Gross. Really I don't want to do that with anyone, and I prefer a private bathroom anywhere. (I know where the private/locked restrooms are on campus for such a reason...2nd floor library, 2nd floor student union). Sadly, we have an employee restroom in the back, but the day they removed the padlock to allow us to peacefully release our body waste, someone childishly smoked in there. Now it's padlocked again. It makes me feel like a child. Really, everyone gets enough smoke breaks if you ask me. I know I quit smoking, but everywhere else I have worked gives smoke breaks maybe once a shift. Some of these people are unhappy to take two or three per shift? Piss on that. But don't shit on it because your turds have hidden themselves deep in your body for days now and will only release little machine gun rabbit pellets once a day.
I have more to complain about, but I'll just leave it at that. It's really just not for me.
I didn't even really have any good jokes for this one, then I thought of a couple and went back and added them. It just pisses me off. I did like the metaphor at the beginning, and that is how it feels.
I opt not to drown.
Peace.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
A little sentimental...
Happy Father's Day to all of the people who play a fatherly role in the life of a child :) I have some people I personally want to thank and honor in this post. I know I'm leaving some influential people out, and that doesn't mean that I don't love you ;)
My mother--although you are my mom, you spent many years being my only parent emotionally and financially. You are a beautiful and wonderful woman and I've tried to honor you on as many days as I can. We have had our differences but you are one of the greatest supporters of my life and I appreciate you endlessly for it. My love for you is unconditional. Thank you for making me a good person.
My father--although I don't remember meeting you until I was 11-years-old, your DNA has lived in me my entire life. Most of your musical talent skipped me unfortunately, but I did get your double crown and the weird way that our middle fingernails grow. We have had a strange relationship and I'm ready to trust and love you and know that you are going to love me even though we're very different. You are a great man, husband, and father. I am honored to be a part of your family and make you a part of mine.
Nicholas--although you are not an actual father (yet), you have shown me what a great step-father acts like. You treat my son with love and respect. You are not afraid to discipline him and that is so important for all of us. We do a great job together and it's because of you that I've been able to keep my sanity throughout this past year and a half that I've had to live 1/2 time without this little guy who is the other love of my life. Thank you for all that you are and all that you do. My family feels complete because of you and I am honored to have you by my side to show my son what true love and partnership really are.
John--although things didn't work out between us, you are a dedicated father to our little boy. We do a great job of working things out without having to go to court and I hope we can continue to grow as he grows. I know it is more than difficult for both of us, but I feel like we're handling it in a way that provides what is best for Fisher and that is truly what matters. I honestly wish you the best of everything and I hope that Fisher inspires you to be happy and take good care of yourself.
Pawpaw Duff--if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here. I miss you so much even though we hadn't spent much time together in the years before you died. You were old-school and therefore unconventional to me. You showed me that chewing tobacco was nasty by giving me my first chew before I was five. You showed me how to use a riding lawnmower. You showed me that, as a waitress, dirty old men were my friends. And I'll never forget the moment I feel like I made you most proud--you were trying to give my son a root beer barrel and I wasn't having it, but you weren't about to listen to me. Then I gave you a look that could only have come from your genes and sharply inquired, "You ever been beat with your own cane, old man?" Your smile was priceless. And you listened.
Harry John--you showed my son's father how important a good father is and that has made all the difference for my son. You did things with him and held his trust and he was able to truly love you. I love you too, for that and for the great man that you are and have been. You are one of the greatest grand-dads I have ever seen. I wish you peace and love. I miss you.
Robby--you are one of my favorite husbands and fathers and I've learned so much from you and your family. I admire you for all that you are and am proud to call you one of my best friends. The relationship you have with your child is so very beautiful and I know that he will always know you are there for him and that he can trust you with everything. I hope your day (and everyday) is filled with love and affection. I am so proud that you are all working so hard to spend more years together and I hope one day that we can live close again :)
Charlie--you fathered the girls that I call my sisters and you are one of the first people who made me understand what a dad was supposed to be. I was so jealous that they had someone like you but you always made me feel welcome and loved. I am more than glad that your daughters and grandchildren have a wonderful man like you to look up to and I hope that you feel as loved and honored as you are.
To all the other dedicated parents out there--hats off to you! Celebrate your love for your children and make sure they know how much you love them everyday. Children, let your parents know how much they mean to you and honor and respect them as much as they deserve. Life is short and not everyone has the opportunity to do so anymore. Some people never had great parents, but that doesn't mean that they cannot be great parents as they learn and grow with their children. These bonds are life-changing. Grow with them in love and faith and don't let the moments pass you by.
My mother--although you are my mom, you spent many years being my only parent emotionally and financially. You are a beautiful and wonderful woman and I've tried to honor you on as many days as I can. We have had our differences but you are one of the greatest supporters of my life and I appreciate you endlessly for it. My love for you is unconditional. Thank you for making me a good person.
My father--although I don't remember meeting you until I was 11-years-old, your DNA has lived in me my entire life. Most of your musical talent skipped me unfortunately, but I did get your double crown and the weird way that our middle fingernails grow. We have had a strange relationship and I'm ready to trust and love you and know that you are going to love me even though we're very different. You are a great man, husband, and father. I am honored to be a part of your family and make you a part of mine.
Nicholas--although you are not an actual father (yet), you have shown me what a great step-father acts like. You treat my son with love and respect. You are not afraid to discipline him and that is so important for all of us. We do a great job together and it's because of you that I've been able to keep my sanity throughout this past year and a half that I've had to live 1/2 time without this little guy who is the other love of my life. Thank you for all that you are and all that you do. My family feels complete because of you and I am honored to have you by my side to show my son what true love and partnership really are.
John--although things didn't work out between us, you are a dedicated father to our little boy. We do a great job of working things out without having to go to court and I hope we can continue to grow as he grows. I know it is more than difficult for both of us, but I feel like we're handling it in a way that provides what is best for Fisher and that is truly what matters. I honestly wish you the best of everything and I hope that Fisher inspires you to be happy and take good care of yourself.
Pawpaw Duff--if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here. I miss you so much even though we hadn't spent much time together in the years before you died. You were old-school and therefore unconventional to me. You showed me that chewing tobacco was nasty by giving me my first chew before I was five. You showed me how to use a riding lawnmower. You showed me that, as a waitress, dirty old men were my friends. And I'll never forget the moment I feel like I made you most proud--you were trying to give my son a root beer barrel and I wasn't having it, but you weren't about to listen to me. Then I gave you a look that could only have come from your genes and sharply inquired, "You ever been beat with your own cane, old man?" Your smile was priceless. And you listened.
Harry John--you showed my son's father how important a good father is and that has made all the difference for my son. You did things with him and held his trust and he was able to truly love you. I love you too, for that and for the great man that you are and have been. You are one of the greatest grand-dads I have ever seen. I wish you peace and love. I miss you.
Robby--you are one of my favorite husbands and fathers and I've learned so much from you and your family. I admire you for all that you are and am proud to call you one of my best friends. The relationship you have with your child is so very beautiful and I know that he will always know you are there for him and that he can trust you with everything. I hope your day (and everyday) is filled with love and affection. I am so proud that you are all working so hard to spend more years together and I hope one day that we can live close again :)
Charlie--you fathered the girls that I call my sisters and you are one of the first people who made me understand what a dad was supposed to be. I was so jealous that they had someone like you but you always made me feel welcome and loved. I am more than glad that your daughters and grandchildren have a wonderful man like you to look up to and I hope that you feel as loved and honored as you are.
To all the other dedicated parents out there--hats off to you! Celebrate your love for your children and make sure they know how much you love them everyday. Children, let your parents know how much they mean to you and honor and respect them as much as they deserve. Life is short and not everyone has the opportunity to do so anymore. Some people never had great parents, but that doesn't mean that they cannot be great parents as they learn and grow with their children. These bonds are life-changing. Grow with them in love and faith and don't let the moments pass you by.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
A little giddy :)
Yesterday my love, Nicholas, and I took my son, Fisher, to Water Ways--West Virginia's Water Park. Those of you in Kanawha County (or anywhere else) who think that Boone County is only good for incest porn, you are sorely mistaken. (Just kidding, Boone friends, I love you and the Whites. Ok...I don't love the Whites. Actually I think they're a plague on you and the rest of WV. Wow, I'm back to that stupidity thing again already???!!)
Anyway, despite the fact that being in a wooded area makes the bugs a pesky factor in your day trip to the water park on the side of a mountain, the scenery is serene and beautiful (assuming you don't include some major cottage cheese thigh yumminess in your definition of "scenery"...don't get pissy; mine were included).
In fact, Nick just lay there most of the time on the shady hillside watching the cumulus clouds and jets float by while Fisher and I scoured the small, but perfect for us, park. My companion works hard in a sweaty chef's uniform most of the week, and he was pleased to lie on the old hot blanket in the easy 80-degree goodness. A perfect spring day for him. Except there was no World of Warcraft vestibule at the entrance of the park, so he just walked around looking for us when he got lonely or bored (although I'm sure he was just thinking of us...which of course is matched by lonely, eh?). Wonderful because I got pictures of my son enjoying water slides for the first time :)
I could understand why Nick wanted to take a nap rather than climb endless stairs over and over and spend the next day or two with aching thighs (and it wasn't about the string bikini girls anchored on the hillside below him; I spared more glances their way than my respectful partner).
But it brought a question to the forefront of my mind. While Nick has never been on a water slide in his life, many of these people had. Therefore, they had to know it's feeling of weightlessness and pure giddiness. I felt great. And every time I resurfaced, after making sure Fisher breathed air even sooner than myself, I was ready to do it again even before he cried, "I wanna go again."
Now, maybe that's not exactly true. I did have to carefully place my breasts back where they belonged before I was ready to exit the landing pool and hurry to the stairs. Even before that, I used the rest of the air in my lungs to ask Fisher if he was alright. So it went like this for me...check on offspring, check on boobies, go again!
I saw mothers standing around the exit to the landing pool. They were waiting on their children. Maybe they worried, maybe they were dragged there by their babies. Maybe they really wanted to go on the slides but they were ashamed. I understand if they were just plain worn out from their everyday lives of parenting and financial slavery bliss.
Now, I hate to assume, because I do a fine job of making an ass of myself on a daily basis as it is. But I feel like most people need a little more water slide in their life. Even when they're tired. No. Especially when they are tired. When is the last time you let yourself feel like a kid? We all have responsibilities and complete exhaustion that compete with having fun and feeling free, but we still need to find the time to feel free.
Everyone does it differently too. Maybe water slides wouldn't make you feel free. Maybe you hate water. Or germs. Or rednecks. (I'm telling you though, I've been to a concrete oasis in Florida and our park is nice enough...plus it doesn't have the 250-foot drop of Der Stuka or the surprise action of The Bombay, which almost equally shove your swimsuit so far up your ass you need an enema with a stick of butter to get it out.)
Nonetheless, I really just want to remark on self-consciousness more than anything. When my son was born, I remember telling my aunt Sandy that I didn't want to be the mom who stood back and just watched him play all of the time. She thought I was saying I wanted to look like an involved mother to everyone else. But I was just trying to tell her that I noticed that some people were reserved while in public and I wanted to be free of that. I wanted to spend some of the time (because most of my time was spent teaching and in appointments and doing housework) just acting like my son's friend and not caring what society thought of me.
I wanted to play. Get wet. Get dirty. Not care what anyone thought of me but my son.
Really I just wanted to be there for him.
But, as it turns out, it's him that's been there for me. He keeps me caring and young. He keeps me enjoying the things that are really fun. The things that matter more than how much money is in my bank account after the bills are paid and we are fed.
Seeing the world again through his eyes is like seeing it for the first time.
Anyway, despite the fact that being in a wooded area makes the bugs a pesky factor in your day trip to the water park on the side of a mountain, the scenery is serene and beautiful (assuming you don't include some major cottage cheese thigh yumminess in your definition of "scenery"...don't get pissy; mine were included).
In fact, Nick just lay there most of the time on the shady hillside watching the cumulus clouds and jets float by while Fisher and I scoured the small, but perfect for us, park. My companion works hard in a sweaty chef's uniform most of the week, and he was pleased to lie on the old hot blanket in the easy 80-degree goodness. A perfect spring day for him. Except there was no World of Warcraft vestibule at the entrance of the park, so he just walked around looking for us when he got lonely or bored (although I'm sure he was just thinking of us...which of course is matched by lonely, eh?). Wonderful because I got pictures of my son enjoying water slides for the first time :)
I could understand why Nick wanted to take a nap rather than climb endless stairs over and over and spend the next day or two with aching thighs (and it wasn't about the string bikini girls anchored on the hillside below him; I spared more glances their way than my respectful partner).
But it brought a question to the forefront of my mind. While Nick has never been on a water slide in his life, many of these people had. Therefore, they had to know it's feeling of weightlessness and pure giddiness. I felt great. And every time I resurfaced, after making sure Fisher breathed air even sooner than myself, I was ready to do it again even before he cried, "I wanna go again."
Now, maybe that's not exactly true. I did have to carefully place my breasts back where they belonged before I was ready to exit the landing pool and hurry to the stairs. Even before that, I used the rest of the air in my lungs to ask Fisher if he was alright. So it went like this for me...check on offspring, check on boobies, go again!
I saw mothers standing around the exit to the landing pool. They were waiting on their children. Maybe they worried, maybe they were dragged there by their babies. Maybe they really wanted to go on the slides but they were ashamed. I understand if they were just plain worn out from their everyday lives of parenting and financial slavery bliss.
Now, I hate to assume, because I do a fine job of making an ass of myself on a daily basis as it is. But I feel like most people need a little more water slide in their life. Even when they're tired. No. Especially when they are tired. When is the last time you let yourself feel like a kid? We all have responsibilities and complete exhaustion that compete with having fun and feeling free, but we still need to find the time to feel free.
Everyone does it differently too. Maybe water slides wouldn't make you feel free. Maybe you hate water. Or germs. Or rednecks. (I'm telling you though, I've been to a concrete oasis in Florida and our park is nice enough...plus it doesn't have the 250-foot drop of Der Stuka or the surprise action of The Bombay, which almost equally shove your swimsuit so far up your ass you need an enema with a stick of butter to get it out.)
Nonetheless, I really just want to remark on self-consciousness more than anything. When my son was born, I remember telling my aunt Sandy that I didn't want to be the mom who stood back and just watched him play all of the time. She thought I was saying I wanted to look like an involved mother to everyone else. But I was just trying to tell her that I noticed that some people were reserved while in public and I wanted to be free of that. I wanted to spend some of the time (because most of my time was spent teaching and in appointments and doing housework) just acting like my son's friend and not caring what society thought of me.
I wanted to play. Get wet. Get dirty. Not care what anyone thought of me but my son.
Really I just wanted to be there for him.
But, as it turns out, it's him that's been there for me. He keeps me caring and young. He keeps me enjoying the things that are really fun. The things that matter more than how much money is in my bank account after the bills are paid and we are fed.
Seeing the world again through his eyes is like seeing it for the first time.
Monday, June 13, 2011
A little self-righteous...
Human beings...ugh. Could you find anything more disgusting? Maybe not. But chances are you'll never find anything so beautiful either. Ask another species and get another result, I'm sure.
But they can't talk to answer you. So we're better, eh?
Hah. Surely not because of talking...no. Talking does everything but make us superior at times. Some people open their mouths and ooze inferiority. Not that I'm judging by class or even intellect (although it may seem I do so from the story I told in my first blog), merely by a thing called respect. I appreciate the power of speech, and I believe I've learned to communicate effectively. Well enough anyway. And I respect others.
Except as I learned how to effectively diffuse conflict, I also learned to tell the truth. Most people can't handle the truth. What? Did you think that line was bullshit when Jack Nicholson spit it out in A Few Good Men? (Sidebar: Tom Cruise is a scientologist. Proof that he can't handle the truth)
As a result, conflict is created. Their version of the truth is different than my version of the truth. Yours is different too. And that pisses us all off sometimes. We can't help it that it's upsetting; we believe in our convictions. We also can't help that we're all different and we value different things and react in different ways.
The world is too small. I vow to do my best to learn to cut out my bullshit so my neighbors don't have to step in it (which would also be respectful of humans to do so with regard to their dogshit).
Let's all make a pact. Take care of ourselves and our business before we complain about someone else trying to take care of their own.
Live and let live. Love. Laugh. Repeat.
But they can't talk to answer you. So we're better, eh?
Hah. Surely not because of talking...no. Talking does everything but make us superior at times. Some people open their mouths and ooze inferiority. Not that I'm judging by class or even intellect (although it may seem I do so from the story I told in my first blog), merely by a thing called respect. I appreciate the power of speech, and I believe I've learned to communicate effectively. Well enough anyway. And I respect others.
Except as I learned how to effectively diffuse conflict, I also learned to tell the truth. Most people can't handle the truth. What? Did you think that line was bullshit when Jack Nicholson spit it out in A Few Good Men? (Sidebar: Tom Cruise is a scientologist. Proof that he can't handle the truth)
As a result, conflict is created. Their version of the truth is different than my version of the truth. Yours is different too. And that pisses us all off sometimes. We can't help it that it's upsetting; we believe in our convictions. We also can't help that we're all different and we value different things and react in different ways.
The world is too small. I vow to do my best to learn to cut out my bullshit so my neighbors don't have to step in it (which would also be respectful of humans to do so with regard to their dogshit).
Let's all make a pact. Take care of ourselves and our business before we complain about someone else trying to take care of their own.
Live and let live. Love. Laugh. Repeat.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
A little unfocused...
Last semester, I got my first B in five years. (Just to be clear, the rest of my grades had been As.) It was excruciating work on deeply personal essays. My beloved teacher + the subject matter (which I chose) = anxiety attacks. I thought I may even fail the course. Her main concern for my writing was focus...
I had none. But that was just according to her. Others (including myself) believed my work was decently focused. But when I tried to name my thesis, I could not pin it down. The stories I was telling weren't ready; the lessons were incomplete. But I was ready to confess. Not like a good Catholic; that was too private.
Why should only one person get to hear what's in my head? I feel like telling everyone who will listen. Kinda like when I used to dabble in cocaine...
The same person who told me my teacher was an idiot last semester told me last night to start my blog. I listened to him because, really, he's never steered me in the wrong direction. That's an epiphany and I'm trying to disagree with it in my head, because it feels so wrong. You understand if you know him. He once told me in 10th grade not to date a guy because he was "dumb as Hell." I've always appreciated his bluntness.
I called him crying only days later to tell him he was right and when I tried to break up with the guy he said he would wait for me. I didn't want that. He wasn't going to just get smarter, especially at Dupont High...but I digress. "I don't want you to feel obligated to do that," I replied. There was a pause. "What's obligated mean?"
The tears were partially of sadness (though they were mostly from laughing so hard, bless that kid's poor soul). Sadness (and hilarity) that my friend was right, that people really aren't that smart, that I was an asshole who couldn't date a guy who was dumb as hell even if he was really cute and sort of popular.
Maybe he was wrong about my teacher being an idiot though. I had her again for a Poetry Workshop the following semester. She taught me a lot and became a good friend, loyal instructor and fan. She was still worried about my focus. Not of the poetry, but of my life. My art.
I said I wanted to write novels and stories and poetry. And more personal non-fiction like those essays. That I wanted to do stand-up comedy. That I wanted to begin a video log. Write scripts. Perform. Try improv. Learn to play music so I can write silly songs. Parody.
Guess what. I'm going to do it all. This is only the beginning.
I'm OK with being a little unfocused.
And here, right now only my first poetry reading is there but still...
StephanieAnn1982 on YouTube
I had none. But that was just according to her. Others (including myself) believed my work was decently focused. But when I tried to name my thesis, I could not pin it down. The stories I was telling weren't ready; the lessons were incomplete. But I was ready to confess. Not like a good Catholic; that was too private.
Why should only one person get to hear what's in my head? I feel like telling everyone who will listen. Kinda like when I used to dabble in cocaine...
The same person who told me my teacher was an idiot last semester told me last night to start my blog. I listened to him because, really, he's never steered me in the wrong direction. That's an epiphany and I'm trying to disagree with it in my head, because it feels so wrong. You understand if you know him. He once told me in 10th grade not to date a guy because he was "dumb as Hell." I've always appreciated his bluntness.
I called him crying only days later to tell him he was right and when I tried to break up with the guy he said he would wait for me. I didn't want that. He wasn't going to just get smarter, especially at Dupont High...but I digress. "I don't want you to feel obligated to do that," I replied. There was a pause. "What's obligated mean?"
The tears were partially of sadness (though they were mostly from laughing so hard, bless that kid's poor soul). Sadness (and hilarity) that my friend was right, that people really aren't that smart, that I was an asshole who couldn't date a guy who was dumb as hell even if he was really cute and sort of popular.
Maybe he was wrong about my teacher being an idiot though. I had her again for a Poetry Workshop the following semester. She taught me a lot and became a good friend, loyal instructor and fan. She was still worried about my focus. Not of the poetry, but of my life. My art.
I said I wanted to write novels and stories and poetry. And more personal non-fiction like those essays. That I wanted to do stand-up comedy. That I wanted to begin a video log. Write scripts. Perform. Try improv. Learn to play music so I can write silly songs. Parody.
Guess what. I'm going to do it all. This is only the beginning.
I'm OK with being a little unfocused.
And here, right now only my first poetry reading is there but still...
StephanieAnn1982 on YouTube
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