Disappointment

We can't get through life without it.  I'm not sure if it's because of the expectations we impose on others or if we were all brought up with varying sets of values that make this inevitable.  Time and again I have been disappointed by people I care about, even those I don't care so much about.  

Not long ago someone I know said, "A man without enemies is a man without values".  That really resonated with me.  I don't know if I'm wrong or right but I know what I stand up for and I know what I believe in.  If someone goes against that, I no longer hold them in the same regard I once did.

Break Up

As a woman in my mid-30's I can say time flies.  Time flies and we don't even realize.  Before we know it we're surrounded by people years our junior speaking of things that are so beyond our time.  Three weeks ago I started school all over again.  The last time I sat in a desk/chair with a chalkboard in front of it was about 13 years ago.  I joined the ranks of women and men that were fresh out of high school.  

Last week a classmate of mine,19, said to our other classmate on lunch break, "Are you a virgin?".  I found her in stitches next to her locker as she reminded our friend that she has 2 children.  I wondered what prompted her to ask such a thing before I realized that the only reason one would ask someone if they were a virgin was if.... well, they were a virgin.

The week before, week 2 of class, one of the cute blonds in my class announced after break that her boyfriend just broke up with her over via text.  WOW.  We all were all, "Don't reply to that asshole!" and she didn't.  At least to my knowledge.  But she's young and she's cute and she'll be A-OK.

Our 1st week of school Makaila was enthusiastically talking about her boyfriend who's a cop from New York.  She talked about moving back east because he wanted to go back and they were in love and she was all about supporting him.  My heart melted a bit and I asked her how long they had been together.  Two months, she told me.  Oh.

Last week Makaila told us, the class, that her and her boy were going to have "the talk" that night.  Something about someone not being sure if they were serious about things.  In the same breath, or so it seemed, I found out her stepfather was my age.  MY AGE.  That night their status was confirmed on Facebook.  I saw it. The next day, she did the same. Whew.

Yesterday I saw Alyssa's status: "Worst day in years :( ".  I knew that meant a handful of things.  1) a break up 2) bff issues 3) parents suck.  A few hours later her relationship status said it all.

Fifteen years ago I understood this pain.  I still do.  The only difference is that now I know that pain like that sucks to high hell but it also subsides.  It make us stronger and inevitably it leads us to realizing what we want and what we don't.  As much as I love my youth, I don't love or miss growing pains.  I also know that my top 3 things that suck list is a lot different now.  And I'm totally cool with that.  

Characters in the Flesh

This was big a big week for me.  My family was in town and and I had a full agenda planned out for them.  It's not over yet however I would consider it a success overall but I'll save that for my next post.  I did have an anxiety attack one night which opened an introspective door for me.  When this happens I tend to assess other people's characters more so than usual. 

Sunday night.  My husband took off work Monday for the maiden in-law visit so it might as well have been Friday and we were out to celebrate.  Divers, our local bar, embraced us after our separate but equally long day.  I was the last of the group to arrive.  I see Vlad 1st because at 7' he towers over my 6'6" husband whose presence usually commands the room.  An ex professional basketball player and current entrepreneur his intelligence matches his height.  I respect him and imagine he would speak more if he drank alcohol or spoke english as his 1st language.  He sees the world in a different perspective.  Literally.

Dean is sitting next to my group and we greet.  I wrote about him months ago when I was slightly fascinated that I knew the guy that committed an act of arson in a Seattle institution.  It was on the news and him and I had briefly met weeks before his mug flashed across the screen on the evening news.  He offers to buy me a shot and I accept.  He says, "If you have any aggressions tonight about anything feel free to hit me".  I offer the obligatory chuckle and decline.  He has no idea that I have knowledge about certain demons that lurk within.  We toast. Tap the glass on the bar. We shoot.

I go out for a cigarette and see Kris sitting alone on a bench.  She works here but is fresh off her shift and broken from a boy.  Taking a break from her drunk friends that offer an escape, she is sober and in the moment.  She wants no part of it, she only wants the pain to end.  She cries and I cry with her.  The pain that can only heal with time is the worst kind.

A blind woman walks in with her seeing eye dog.  Her and I have spoken before about things that don't matter.  Tonight would be different.  She sits next to me and we exchange pleasantries.  I tell her I remember the last time we spoke she was about to get married.  She wants a divorce.  "You're married. Let me ask you something. Do you still have sex? We haven't had sex in a long time."  I ask, "Define a long time."  She says, "Christmas."  I choke on my drink.  In the minutes to follow there were other things.  He has shoved her.  Did he hit her?  I can't recall because I was too busy being disgusted.  He barks orders to her.  I tell her things since I'm still in shrink mode from my earlier encounter.  I am painfully aware that she will not take any of my advise.  We hug.  Her name is Shane and her dog's name is Grace.  We part.

Our group is giddy and we are ready to retire.  I order the kind of food that is only acceptable to order when you are inebriated.  

We walk through our door, I peer over at my sleeping pup and his little peanut head peaks out of the blanket to look at me.  His tail wags with excitement and he runs towards me to give me mommy kisses that I live for.  It's a crazy world out there and sometimes it's a crazy world in here. But for now, all is perfect in the world.

Chicks Man

Does a woman spend more time contemplating a romantic relationship than a man?  My guess is she does.  I do not have a penis so this is strictly a guess.  However, as a woman I think we speak more freely than men do about feelings and relationships.  Maybe men just don't see the need to express the way women do. Or maybe they just think relationships in the "mature stages" aren't worth talking or thinking about. I imagine locker room talk of "I hit that" (obviously referring to a new "relationship") are much more common than "It's been 8 years, she's all quiet and shit and I want to get to the bottom of that". When it comes to issues I think men are much more direct when it comes to problem solving and business.  Matters of the heart?  Eh, I think they leave that to us.  I know the tone I've set is one of distress, but it is not.  My mind is just constantly thinking about my relationship with my husband and the state it is in and if it needs to be improved.  I just wonder when it ends, if it should end and if men think about us the way we do them. Maybe chicks are just more vocal.  Whatever the case I think it should be even steven and if it's not, then I need a new hobby.

Broken

Last Wednesday the management office in my building sent out an email to their residents.  A tenant in our building had committed suicide that day.  For obvious reasons all details were omitted from the notice.  Throughout the day neighbors talked and speculated but no one knew who it was or how it was done.  Seattle news does not cover suicide in any form since it happens quite frequently here and the media does not want to romanticize it.  Its been said that our Aurora Bridge in is the the 2nd most popular suicide bridge next to the Golden Gate in San Fransisco.  Since we are curious creatures, word of mouth went around and details of this man's death began to surface.  It was an Indian man who lived by himself on the 6th or 7th floor.  Around 3am he went up to the 18th floor stairwell, faced downtown and leapt from the open space.  His body was discovered in the bushes around 7am.  Family was called in from India to retrieve him and his belongings.  

I don't know who he was.  Perhaps we shared an elevator ride together.  Maybe he held the door open for me one time or we've passed each other in the lobby.  

Death is something I have trouble digesting.  I've written about this before. What disturbs me the most is the idea of ceasing to exist.  It's something I cannot wrap my head around.

Yesterday I was walking my dog when I noticed what had to have been where this man's life ended.  About a month ago someone had placed a beautiful, large fake flower in one of the bushes downstairs.  I remember walking past it and retracting to reach out and touch it.  Yesterday that same bush was damaged.  The flower, surprisingly still there, was now soiled and sunken.  This bush was broken.

Fetish

fet-ish: [fet-ish, fee-tish] noun

Psychology . any object or nongenital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.

That is definition # 3 of this word.  So what does it mean exactly when someone has an "Asian fetish"?  Is it considered a fetish when an Asian man has a preference for Asian women?  Or is it only labeled as such when a person of a one ethnicity has a preference for a person of a different one? 

In high school I had a friend Jen, a white girl, who only dated large hispanic men.  This never came up in conversation, it was just understood.  Clearly.  After graduation we lost touch only to reunite years later on Facebook.  Needless to say, Jen "Smith" is now Jen "Alvarez".

My friend Rachelle is Asian and has only dated black men.  Her children's father is a black man, when they broke up she only dated black men and today she is happily married to a black man.  Does this mean she has a black fetish?  

If a white woman prefers to date only white men does this mean she have a white fetish? 

What is the difference exactly between "preference" and "fetish" anyway when it comes to people? Just a thought since the definition did really define it.    

Robert

Robert is an old alcoholic at my neighborhood bar.  "Divers" has become our personal Cheers as my husband and I have become friends with the bartenders and many of the locals who frequent as we do.

Robert has taken a liking to me.  Although always drunk, he's expressed on many occasions how fond he is of me and is constantly telling my husband that he is the luckiest man in the entire world.

As I look at this deteriorated old man, I wonder what made him this way.  What made him choose alcohol to be his lifetime companion?  His fondness for me is not one out of love or true friendship as I don't know what his greatest fears or accomplishments are.  His fondness for me is one of acceptance. I don't yell at him or ignore him like most patrons do when he gets intoxicated.  Instead I patiently listen to him repeat stories.  He'll pause with tears in his eyes and tell me that we have a special bond. 

His intensity doesn't scare me as his intensity for me scares others. Because what I see is an old, fractured man who does not have a family or partner to come home to.  He is an unemployed man with a bruised ego that goes home to a studio apartment every night.  Booze is his companion, his very best friend. I wonder when this affair started and think about when this "mistress" has witnessed better days.  Days that were filled with  laughter and a promising future until she took the reigns.  I will never know since he only shares fragments of a life he probably doesn't remember in its entirety. There was once a true love.  There was once a job. That is all I know, but the saddened expressions on his face are now permanently etched and they tell a story that words cannot express.  Most at Divers will just chuckle at his his name.  "Oh Robert" they'll say as to imply dismissal.  But Robert has his drink so he'll be just fine.

Who's Crazy?

Why are some people so goddamn weird?  Why are some people so inconsiderate?  Why are some people so clueless?  These are the questions that bounced back and forth in my brain all morning.  Two days ago I bumped into an old friend, and by friend I mean someone who is engaged to my husband's friend.  Let's call her Bitty. Bitty is a pretty girl, but she doesn't strike me as one with many friends, many ambitions or....well, you get my point.  She asked if she could take me out to lunch on Thursday, today.  I was baffled.  Bitty told me things were turning for her, she needed to go out with friends more often, she was "making good money" and just bought a car.  Excited for her I said, "Oh you got your license back!"  She was all, "No." She offered to pick me up AND offered to pay for me.  I said "Great, I'll just meet you there!".  I was all sorts of 'what the?'.  Clearly I pegged her wrong.  We all have moments, who was I to judge.  I'm sure you see where this is going.  But let me tell you anyway.

Meeting time was scheduled for 1.  I typically confirm plans the day of but since Bitty and I are such good friends, I decided to confirm the night before.  Nothing. One more attempt today and....nothing.  Thankfully this place is a 3 minute walk from me so I decided to wait until 10 after to swing by just in case.  Well thankfully she texted me at 12:59 to tell me she just woke up and that her fiance had her car so no can do.  Too bad a phone call would have been too much of an effort and too bad she forgot she told me she just bought her own car.

An hour later a friend in my building, Tube Top, asked if I had any interest in taking the pups to the dog park.  I told her I'd be at her place in 10.  I was there in 20. Sprawled on her chaise the words, "I am soooooo sore today and don't feel like doing anything" in her southern drawl spilled out of her mouth.  "So I guess you don't want to go to the dog park?".  This is what followed:

- I don't want to go to the dog park. I am so sore. I moved that table all by myself last night.  I am still sore from that spider bite. Do you see this hand? I need to get drunk. Do you want to get drunk?  I didn't get drunk last night. I need to do a shot.  Do a shot with me.  You're so lame. I need curtain rods. Cheap ones. Want to go to Ross.  Let's go to Ross.  Leave the dogs here. -

I finally got home 2 hours later.  I was exhausted. Mentally exhausted. And I spared you the actual Ross excursion / losing Tube Top / going back for TT walk / hailing cab / going to hotel - bit.

So my husband comes home and asked how lunch was.  I flipped my shit and he said, "Geez didn't realize I hit a nerve".   So with all this craziness I'm surrounded by I can't help but wonder, "What's wrong with me?" because I know for every crazy out there, I'm the crazy, lame bitch.

Redirecting Life

After years of knowing I was stuck in a career that was no longer meant for me, after months of contemplating going back to school, I have finally enrolled.

My parents came to America as professionals.  Their career choices allowed them to move to the US, obtain citizenship and raise their children here.  I am blessed to be a product of that.  In terms of class, the Philippines is black or white.  You're either a "professional" or not.  If you're not, you're poor.  If you're poor, you're looked down upon.  This upbringing shaped my parents expectations of me and my sister.  After graduating high school I was expected to graduate from college and ultimately become the white collar "professional" that I was expected to become.  Years of private schooling, ballet, violin and piano lessons was my parents idea of grooming me to become a successful, office wielding money making machine.  Understanding these terms was a no brainer.  I obtained said office job and worked as a "young urban professional" for over a decade.  Then one day I was laid off.

The economy is shifting.  Things are changing and the 'gotta have it, gonna have it' mentality of the '90s is experiencing a backlash.  We are going through the worst recession our country has seen in decades.  I've witnessed friends and peers lose their jobs and too often I hear from those that are still employed questioning why they do what they do.  Everyone seems to be wondering what their new path will be.  No one feels secure and many who are still working are overworked due to understaffing as a result of budget cuts.

Now in my mid 30's I am starting over.  I am redirecting my life in hopes of building the future I see fit for me, not my parents.  I'm leaving the well paying office jobs behind and trading it in for a pair of shears and possibly hair extensions and foils.  I'm going to school for hair.  Surely not the career my parents would have seen fit for me 15 years ago, but they support my decision today.  

I just turned down a job offer from a well known retail office in Seattle.  Turning down a steady pay check, a good one at that, wasn't really that difficult of a decision. I've been around the block a few times to know how important it is to love what you do. I love working directly with people.  I love fashion and trends and styling.  I love that once I become skilled at what I do and build a solid client base I will be able to take my business to levels that I choose. So today is the beginning of something new for me.  I'm nervous about the uncertainty. I also know there will moments when I question my decision but today I am sure about redirecting my life.  And having that choice is what it's all about.

2 Negatives Make a Positive

Marriage is hard work.  Surprise!  I wish I was more inspired to write when things are fantastic, but no, I find myself writing about my own relationship more when I'm pissed, angry or sad.  

I couldn't get out of bed today and I didn't have to since I'm not working right now.  The sun is finally out after a weekend of grey and I stayed tucked in until early afternoon.  I made something to eat, cuddled up on the couch with my puppy and went back to sleep.  

Last weekend we had plans to spend the weekend at our friend's cabin in the country.  A beautiful spot right on the river, I was looking forward to it for weeks.  Friday night we got into a huge argument which resulted in me coming home at 4:30am and him sleeping on the couch.  Saturday, the day we were supposed to leave, we attempted to fix what cannot be fixed in an hour with words and moments of awkward silence.  Plans were almost cancelled but I didn't think sulking and giving each other the silent treatment all weekend would do us any good.  I told him we were going to the cabin.  Other people provided a good distraction and camouflaged our lack of interaction with each other.

Fast forward to today.  We're back from the cabin and what do I do?  Nothing was fixed.  Do I rehash what will be a moot point?  Do I accept that there are things that simply can't be fixed?  It makes me want to revert to how I used to fix things.  Two wrongs may not make a right, but it sure as hell might make me feel better.

Wrinkle

Lately I've been thinking a lot about aging.  Actually I think I'm obsessed with it and I hate it.  I know exactly where this stems from.  Growing up, my mother always asked me, my sister and my father for reassurance on whether she looked young for her age.  She still does.  For the record mother looks amazing for her age and I only fear because mother was never a partier...and well, I am.  

Now in my mid 30's (God, when did that happen?) I'm noticing friends my age are looking a little older. Evidence of a lifetime of expressions are permanently marking their faces. Although my permanent lines haven't made their mark yet, the grey hair has. Thank the good Lord for hair color!  Perfect tans of summers past are now congregating in groups where freckles used to reside.   

I see the kids on my Facebook page, like my cousins with their funny jargon and way of talkinggggg anddddd typinggg.  But I also see their fresh faces and can't believe how it happens so quickly. Or rather should I say slowly.  It's happening everyday even as we look in the mirror.  As a matter or fact it's happening now.

I find it fascinating that I can look at a picture of me with a group and friends and think that they look more like a picture of my parents and their friends.  

It's true when they say you never feel your age. But really what does that mean? Does the new wrinkle mean I need to stay in on Thursday night? Does that grey hair mean I need to retire at 9 PM?  Does that sun spot mean I need to trade in my Mexico vacations for Sarasota?

I suppose I need to relax. I'll pass on the gimlet and take another shot of tequila and I won't stop until my wrinkled little fingers can't lift it up.  But I'm sure by then they'll have a procedure for that.      

Name 5

I like to surround myself with awesome people. I would imagine most of us would. Years ago when I 1st met my boyfriend, now husband, one of the very 1st people he introduced me to was his dear friend Brian Turtle. Brian, rather Turtle as we call him, is as charismatic and energetic as awesome gets. I found him even more so when I found out he was 1 of the 3 guys that invented 'The 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon'. I shit you not.  I'm talking the original, American icon game that everyone born before Facebook has either played or heard of. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Degrees_of_Kevin_Bacon

That 15 minutes of fame landed him a book and appearances on Howard Stern and The Jon Stewart Show. Turtle introduced the concept to Endless Games and the rest is history. That would be, Turtle is now a fixture and executive at the company, happily married and a father to 2 precious little girls. So this takes me to Name 5.

Name 5 is Endless Games' newest creation and I've had the honor to be a part of the beginning stages of this. The concept is fairly easy and in my book that's a huge win. Turtle sent my husband and I a test copy. One weekend we gathered a few of our 10 friends over to try it out. Upon opening the box and we found 2 pawns. Although we had 10 people over we were determined to make it happen. The game however proved to a bit challenging with 6 too many people. Distraction, side conversations and too much wine started to take over. The all-play proved interesting too. This was called a "flip flop" and once a topic was read one team shouted out an answer, then the next and it kept going until one team was stumped. The honor system, too many bodies and too much to drink proved way too challenging for this group. There was a lot of, "I already said that!" "No you didn't!" "I totally did!" going around. After we tossed the scorekeeping we randomly chose cards and asked each other questions. With our brains partially on cruise control at that hour it was entertainment at its best.  

The next day we shared our thoughts with Turtle via Skype. With white board in hand he took diligent notes as we could almost see the gears churning inside his head. He thanked us and told us that changes were being made based on feedback he received from real people like us. 

The above picture is one of me, my husband, Turtle and his wife arm in arm singing at our going away party before leaving New Jersey 4 years ago. Miles away, he and his wife are still good friends of ours. I'm smitten that we had a chance to participate in a little bitty part of what will one day be on shelves in stores all across America. I look forward to the day I see Name 5 on a store shelf and can say, "I totally helped produce this thing". Well I wouldn't have really but I'd like to think that my husband and I had something to do with making it happen. So when you do see Name 5 on the store shelf pick it up. Maybe there will be a shout out to Ms. Santos and my hubby. I'm sure you'll even have more pawns - and you're welcome for that. 

Name 5 famous people you know. 

1. Brian Turtle (friends of friends totally count)

2. Ms. Santos

I'll leave the rest up to you.

On Religion

Growing up I went to church every Sunday with my parents and little sister. Like good catholics we were religious in the ritual. I sat as still as I could on the wooden pew and tried to hang on to every word the priest said and every week I would I would find myself drifting into nonsensical thoughts of what candy bar Dad would buy me after mass, if my grade school crush had a crush on me too, if I would ever be a famous model. Things of that nature. I never spoke of this because surely I was the only one. I would stand and sit at the right times. I sang all the hymns and I knew all the responses by heart. Heaven was in my future for sure.

In my 20's I dabbled in mass. My parents were proud because that proved to them that they instilled "values" in me. I found in time my church visits were more infrequent. These days I only find myself there for weddings and funerals. 

I find it interesting that so many people of my generation are leaving organized religion. "We" tend to believe in a higher power of some sort, others atheist.  What happened between them and us? Is it because we question everything? Is it because we witnessed 911 and natural disasters on levels never seen before? What made us lose faith? 

So am I still going to heaven? Sadly that question has turned into, is there a heaven?

The Road Not Taken

We are all where we are today because of decisions we have made.  Some much bigger than others but all decisions nonetheless that take us to this place.  There are times I have wondered what would have happened had I not ______ (fill in the blank here). Interestingly enough where we are is a result of what happened because we didn't do something. 

As some of you know, 4 years ago I decided to move across the country with my now husband, then boyfriend. Prior to that I had never lived with anyone I had dated let alone agree not only to do it but agree to it after only 6 months of dating.  It was the most difficult decision I had ever made. I decided to leave all my friends, my family, my job and everything that was familiar to me. All the while, without a ring on my finger.

Surprisingly my parents didn't resist as much as I imagined they would.  I do believe my being 30 and in a dead end job had something to do with it. Bigger than that I know they trusted me with him.  A stand up man, he took the time - 3 hours to be exact (my father had a lot of questions) - to speak with my traditional parents about this move. He did it all when I wasn't there. 

A few friends questioned it since we weren't even engaged, but more so because I was leaving everything. When making such a life altering decision there are so many variables that need to be accounted for. Sometimes there is one that outweighs everything else. 

So here I am, there you are. I find myself saying things like, "If I decided to stay in that night I never would have met you!". Then I think to myself....I bet stayed in that one night and that night changed things forever, only I'll never know.

My parents met on a bus.  I also said, "Imagine if one of them missed that bus". I bet there are hundreds of thousands that have missed the bus and forever changed their fate.

I supposed this all comes down to a little of both: decision and fate. Yes, I wonder what would have happened if we never met, or met other people or decided to stay in New Jersey. But the mind and the heart and dash of fate have a way of making what is supposed to happen, happen. I truly believe that. And although I may wonder, I know I wouldn't have had it happen any other way.

Ducks & Arson & Jager

Have you ever had one of those stories that are just all, "really?", but you don't talk about it because you know the spoken form will do it no justice? Well, I have one of those.

A few weeks back I posted "Running Away". If you haven't read it, it was a night the hubs and I were fighting and I wanted to 'run away'. I ran away down the block to a bar that I typically frequent with a girlfriend of mine but that night I needed to be alone. In my post I referenced, "an old man with a girlfriend that was too young for him" or something of that nature.  His 1st words to me were spoken when she excused herself to the ladies room.  He then introduced me to his friend who proceeded to buy me Jager shots the rest of the night.  I am terrible with names but I remember he told me his name was Dean. "Dean as in James Dean".  It worked. I remembered. After his friend left I asked him about the old man. He told me he was his boss and that he was an asshole.  Amused, or at least I acted the part, I asked what they did for a living and he told me they did 'Ride the Ducks'. For those of you that don't know, the Ducks as it's known to the locals, is a huge tourist attraction in Seattle.  They service old land/water tankers from WW2 and use them for tours around the city on land and water. I was all too familiar with it as my husband and I have taken all our Jersey guests on the lovely tour about 5 times or so. Dean told me the next time my parents came to visit (oh, you mean if they ever visit? But I'll save that for yet another post...) that I should ask for him and he'll "take care of me".  Awesome I thought because who doesn't love the Ducks more than me and my hubs.

So early this week I hear sirens going off like mad at 2 am.  I didn't look out the window, just turned up the tv. That morning on the news they report that the Ducks office had been set on fire.  It turns out the man, in his 50's, was an employee of the Ducks.  Cut to "old man" on news..."Terrible. I'm still in disbelief.  I spent years building this up.  This is my life." Then news guy comes on and says, "Apparently the man, an employee, who set the office on fire told police 2 men were chasing him.  He ran to the office to call police and said they had cut the phone lines so he set the office ablaze to alert cops to come for help.  When cops arrived, no phone lines were cut. They suspect drugs may have been involved." That old man on TV was the dude who introduced me to Dean.

Cut to today, Friday. I head back to bar I frequent with girlfriend.  While waiting for her I pulled the bartender aside and asked, "You know about the Ducks? Was that Dean?".  I should preface this with, he told me he was a regular there and surprised he hadn't seen me before. So I assumed she would know him. So bartender was all, "YES! $150,000 bail.  Still in jail, ashame. He was high on meth." Well I'll be fucking damned.  The people you meet.  So I guess when my parents come to visit and I take them on the Ducks I shouldn't ask for Dean.  That would be rude.

The Bitter End

Divorce is unforgiving in so many ways.  It tears family and friends apart and leaves those in the wake intentionally or unintentionally choosing sides.    

My sister in law and I formed a special friendship. I will never forget the 1st time we met after speaking on the phone several times.  We both travelled to New Jersey for Christmas in 2006.  Immediately we hit it off. She was a bridesmaid in my wedding.  Not only because she was my sister in law but because we had formed a close and special bond in marrying into our new family. We were into the same things...fashion, make up, sarcasm. Family.

I suppose the demise of their marriage has been coming for some time now. In the beginning I wanted to see them work it out. Towards the end I wanted it to end simply because I was exhausted with how much they continually angered and hurt each other.

I know the saying goes that nothing lasts forever but I thought in this world marriage is supposed to. 

Endings aren't easy for everyone and I hope lessons are learned and strength is gained for everyone affected by this. 

Tramp Stamp

Mine is off centered.  I have a rather large one on right side of my lower back.  It was not the 1^st time I inked myself.  The 1^st was at the naive age of 17.  It was a "tribal sunflower" and I decided to have it placed on my upper left thigh.  I picked it out of a book down the shore at a place in Pt. Pleasant, NJ.  It probably took me about 15 minutes to make that lifetime decision.  My d-bag boyfriend at the time took me along with 2 of our other friends.  I remember he left as soon as my name was called.  I was all, “Where the hell are you going?” and he was something like, “I’m gonna walk the boardwalk, this will take a while.”  I got a severe infection from it which resulted in a trip to the doctor, a prescription for antibiotics and topical ointment.  The doctor told me I was allergic to the bacitracin that was given to me by the tattoo parlor to “make it heal faster”.  Bacitracin is better known under the name brand Neosporin.  Anyhoo, once I discovered that I wasn’t allergic to tats I was ready for another.

Two years later was when I decided to make it happen. I think the year was 1994. It was the beginning of the tattoo craze era and everyone from teens to soccer moms were getting them. My girlfriends and I took a road trip to Florida where my friend's parents had a time share. I remember it rained a whole lot, so much so that we had to go to a tanning salon to get some color. One day we were just cruising around town in our rented Pontiac Grand Prix and we stumbled upon a tattoo parlor in a strip mall. Maria was fired up for her 1st tat. She picked out a tribal symbol for her lower back. Angela was excited about adding to her collection and decided to get paw prints going up her back. I too adored the lower back tramp stamp but decided to be different and get it off center. This one took me at least 1/2 hour to pick out. I loved it. It was a simplistic flower about 6 inches in length. I decided to have it colored in blues and purples. The artist argued with me about coloring the stem black but I thought it looked so badass.

It's funny because people say that if you're going to get a tattoo it needs to be something you love because it's something you will live with for the rest of your life. Do I love mine? No. I got mine for all the wrong reasons. They have no meaning whatsoever except that I thought they were "mad cute" at the time. What they do remind me of is my youth. They remind me of simpler days. When people said to me, "You gotta love it because you're gonna have this forever" and I totally did because at that point forever hadn't been very long. I'm sure I'm in good company. I'm just glad I didn't get that D-bag's name tattooed on my ass.  

Seriously

I have an issue with jealousy.  I'm not quite sure if it's normal or not but I've had and have my fair share of it.  A friend of mine and my husband is dating a visual goddess. In my mind she is the visual description of perfection.  I don't think I'm rough on the eyes but age does it's thing and I am no spring chicken. Things bulge where they didn't before and sun spots from my perfect tan at 24 have finally emerged.  I'm not usually one for insecurity but when my husband gets into any passionate discussion that I have nothing to do with...with a visual goddess... well I get jealous.  If you dare think you're going make me feel better by saying that I'm "beautiful" and that looks fade , well save it because I was there and I know. And it still sucks. 

So tonight M tries to prove his point by starting his story with, "So Ms. Santos thought I was flirting with you and was all pissed at me when in fact I was just teling her that you and I were were saying blah blah blah blah blah...and that J is a total douchebag."  

HELLO awkward.  Thanks for like totally calling me out on that and totally making things between me and my girl all awkward and shit.  So she's all "ok". And they (my friend and her bf who happens to be my husband's friend just like leave because things are like TOTALLY weird.)  Anyhoo I am fucking stew-ing on my living room couch after a "sincere" apology and...well.. like....Seriously?

Running Away From Home

As a young child have you ever attempted to run away from home? Last Monday I did only I am no longer a child. Sunday night "M" and I got into a terrible argument. Monday morning was silent and work was a facade. I received flowers. I quote myself from an earlier post when I say, "Flowers make me smile but they fix nothing". Monday is an early start for me which means an early end.

I came home walked my puppy and looked out the window. The car was not yet parked which meant I had time. I touched up my make up, threw on a hat and looked out the window. The car was on the street. I had 11 floors of elevator time on my side. I reached for M's sudoku book that was reserved for the trash, grabbed my keys, kissed my pup goodbye and raced to the back stairwell.

I decided to treat myself to dinner and drinks.  A hummus plate, aubergine rolls and a house cabernet soothed my belly and tamed my nerves. I people watched until they talked to me. The 1st to break the ice was an older man with the girlfriend that was too young for him. He spoke when she excused herself to the restroom. He introduced me to his friend and the resident bartender next to me that was fresh off his shift. They offer to buy me a shot. I accept. I check my phone. It's 6 PM and I vow to stay out until M decides to look for me. Two vodka sodas later I text a few friends I know that know no curfew. The 1st to bite offers to pick me up. We head to "Banditos". 

I order another vodka soda. I check my cell and M has finally sent a text of concern but I am too drunk to give a shit. I get angry. I order another vodka soda. I want a cheeseburger. My companion does not and drops me off at my local bar so I can feed into my indulgences. 

I order a cheeseburger and a vodka soda. The bartender asks if I am ok. I say I am. The time is 11:30 PM and I want M to walk through the door looking for me. He does not but my equilibrium is challenged and I want to go home.

I close out my tab and stumble home. M is waiting up for me on the couch. One look at me and he bites his tongue. I go to the bedroom and pass out.

5:45 AM the alarm goes off, M slept on the couch and I swear I am still drunk. I shower and attempt to wash off the booze that reeks from my pores. As I am getting ready M walks into the bedroom and hugs me with meaning. He speaks words that I need to hear but it's Monday morning so we part instead of linger. I smile but he does not see.

Sometimes I still feel like a young child that just wants to run away but the ring on my finger reminds me that I am not. 

Tomorrow

Have you ever woken up and wonder what the day will bring? Have you ever gone to bed hoping for a better tomorrow. I have. Yes and yes. I think about the girl I met once. Her name was Debbie and for a brief moment she dated my ex boyfriend's brother. I forgot about her entirely. She died a few months ago. She was hit by a car in Manhattan. I found out on Facebook. Apparently we had many friends in common and our paths have crossed in different circles at one time or another. After her death I found a picture of her and I together at my old house. I knew she looked familiar. Even though I didn't know her I thought about her. I think she was a few years younger than me. She was probably in her late 20's, too young to die. But unless you're on death row I think it's safe to say none of us know when our time will expire. As young adults we certainly feel that we are entitled to more time.

I think about my fellow PNN friend Hali who lost her job today. Her last post was about having a quarterlife crisis. I know about this all too well and purchased a book of the same title 9 years ago. Her and her boyfriend relocated to Seattle months ago with nothing but hopes and aspirations that young adults have. Both have college degrees in fields that the lazy could never handle. They do things to make ends meet. They do things that people with college degrees should not be doing.

I drink my wine and think about running another half marathon. I think about doing great things and wonder if I should be in a different place than I am now. I wonder if things could be better or worse. I wonder if things could get worse and today will have been a good day instead of such a contemplative one. I think about those that say "...such and such happened today and things will never be the same." and I wonder if tomorrow will be that day for me. It could be bad. It could be good. I won't know until tomorrow. If tomorrow comes....I'm just thinking about it and hoping it will be a good day. If it isn't, because it isn't always, then I pray to God it makes me a better and stronger person. Such mystery intrigues me. 

Choices

Today I stumbled upon an ex's blog. I probably should have shrugged it off and moved on to waste my time on another site but I stayed and read. It turns out he, let's call him Jack, is a sad, pathetic soul. I'm not saying that simply because he's my ex but because it's true.

One of the reasons I broke up with him is because he didn't have a sense of who he was. He couldn't, didn't and wouldn't stand up for anything. He was a blob. He was also a douche (hello good measure). He always looked at the past which was his explanation for all that was...or wasn't. By blaming the past he wasn't accountable for the present. An example would be how his relationship with his parents was never good because they always dwelled on his younger brother's passing at birth. Another would be his obsession with exes while we were together. He would get stuck on the fact that ex 1 was now pregnant, ex 2 was getting married, ex 3 got fired. For obvious reasons this was the primary reason for my ending things.

In stringing together his posts he's made it clear that "The Woman", as he refers to, lives under his roof although they have not had sex in a year. He raises her kid and yet they do not speak. He talks about misery and his obsession with exes. I wonder if I'm one of the "lucky" ones that fall under this umbrella now. He talks about being an asshole.

So you see, he is pathetic. I know every now and then life tests our patience and puts us in situations that try to break us. I know that life simply sucks sometimes. But for someone to accept being in a loveless, lifeless relationship can blame no one but themselves. For someone to keep looking behind them to what could have been instead of paying attention to what is will no question live in a state of doubt. So Jack, I'm glad I left you so you could go back to her, your ex. Life will test you and it's up to you whether you pass or fail. I'm sorry to see you choose to fail.

Perspective

Have you ever focused in on something from where you sitting and covered one eye to see how it looked then switch to open the eye that was just shut and cover the other eye?  If not try it.  The image seems to shift. Sometimes the view can even be partially obstructed based on where you are.  Based on where you are.

Valentine's Day just passed.  To me it seems this holiday can cause more emotional distress to those that are in relationships rather than those that are not. In recent years this has been dubbed a "Hallmark holiday". Most men would agree that there is no logical reason to celebrate this day other than to waste money that could be spent on something worthwhile. Most women it seems, even though some can laugh along and jokingly call it a Hallmark holiday feel differently.  Why do we get so emotional?  Because we are. 

We think with our hearts just as much as we feel with it. Sometimes I think we don't even know the difference. Men (as my friend's husband puts it) can compartmentalize much better than we can. I agree. I wish he was wrong but he's not.

So we think or we feel which is pretty much the same thing to us and it comes down to how much emotional effort we put into showing our significant other how much we love them. We try to make their lives easier by cooking, cleaning, shopping and raising their children for them. We try to look pretty and smell nice and say kind things to show them how we feel, what we think. They work to provide money for said food, cleaning supplies and clothing. They are with us. This is how they love us.

A flower is beautiful but will eventually die. Chocolates are delicious but will eventually be finished.  Presents of all kinds are lavish and exciting but the elation will wane. We don't mind because for that moment we feel it. We are emotional beings and that instance is a feeling we cherish and remember. Those are feelings he often can't understand.

So if you try understand the logical person he his and explain the reason behind the "emotional" person you are then I think we will come to a better understanding of each other and closer to the harmony we all seek in a relationship.

I can look at the flowers I asked him to get and be happy knowing that he understands why I enjoy them. He will look at the flowers and think about how they will be dead next week. But I sit on the couch and look at them on the counter and I cover my right eye, I open it. Then I cover my left.

Normal

We all have an idea of normal and I'm pretty sure all our ideas are different because you and I and him and her most likely didn't grow up in the same household.  

So "Jen" and I had a heart to heart not too long ago. She's gone though a ton of personal issues in recent months and I've gone through a handful in recent weeks. After heartfelt discussions we realized how much we had in common.

That's when we came to the realization that everyone has a story. An abnormal story that is. We all have personal battles that we've shielded from the public eye.  Social stigmas prevent people from showing their true colors.  

As socialized beings we were raised to urinate in a private stall with the door shut.  We don't air our dirty laundry in the front yard.  We are clean beings with clean thoughts and clean actions.  Anything that strays from this "norm" is anything but.  BUT....  we all piss and we all have dirty laundry.

So I find it amazing that we can all go about from day to day getting up the way we do all dressed and ready to face the world.  Shit night or not we clothe ourselves and go to work or school or wherever it is we need to be and we hold ourselves together.  We can smile and exchange pleasantries with no avail and do what we need to do to see tomorrow. 

I am in awe in how we have defined normal.  Because in my book we are all anything but. But to redefine that wouldn't be normal.

2 Views

I am a temp.  Currently that is my working title.  It's strange for me as part of my former definition of myself was what I did for a living.  You know, when you'd meet someone for the 1st time and after they would ask you your name followed by what you do?  It's a little standard.  

I can tell you now that "temping" does not have the same cache as other titles, not that titles or positions matter...only they do.

I've been at company X for 5 months now.  Some people I work with don't even know my name and if they did I swear they think it's The Temp.  

My husband is not a temp.  He is the head of the department at a reputable advertising agency in Seattle. I've met many of his co workers and many of the people that report to him.  I've become friends with some of them and spent time with them without "John".   It's interesting and flattering when I'm introduced to someone new as "John's wife" and the next few rounds are on them.  It's a little flattering when people entertain my conversation when they find out who I am.  It's a little flattering as people at my company barely know my name let alone put me in this position.  It's a little annoying.  

In a normal world it would all be normal.  But it is not. That's because I have always been a perceptive person. My having one title in one world and the clout of another in another world have made this all the more clear.  It's amazing yet sad how differently people treat you based on where they think your status is.

I am neither here nor there.  John doesn't judge me on my title or lack thereof.  I don't put him on a pedestal because of his.

Don't ask me what I do.  And if you do don't judge me for it.  My current title does not define me.  And if I meet you tomorrow as John's wife, I ask you to do the same. Accept people for who they are and not what they do or who they are affiliated with.  Because after all a title is just that and it can change at the drop of a hat.  But me?  "John's wife"? "The temp"? Oh if you mean Ms. Santos, I'm here to stay.    

Disappointed

Today was a bad day.  It was the kind of day when you wake up before the alarm and instead of looking at the clock and seeing that you have 3 more hours until you need to get up, you only have 3 more minutes.  It was the kind of day where you couldn't get in enough 5 minute snoozes.  I went to bed pissed off at my husband last night and as many times as I've read you should "Never go to bed upset with each other" this is real life.  So I went to bed yelling and ranting and bitching with no resolve. Two hours prior (to the ranting and bitching) I texted a friend who I needed for a much needed escape and I just heard back from him.  

A few weeks ago my brother in law came in from out of town to stay with us for Thanksgiving weekend.  The demons he is dealing with wreaked havoc in our home.  Without getting into details he left 2 days early and fractured his relations not only with, me but with his entire family.  Recovery is not unforeseeable but will be a long journey.

That same weekend a dear friend has strained another friendship of mine based on a drunken decision.  We've all been there, lord knows I have, but actions have consequences that usually aren't considered at the time.  And her consequences have affected me.    

In short I've had a disappointing few weeks.  Today flowers were delivered to work.  I love flowers.  They don't fix anything but they make me smile. 

Forever After

I remember when I was young thinking that when you get older and get married and all that adult stuff that's when all the relationship drama and bullshit came to an end.  Then as I got older I realized that sometimes people get married because they are older and think it is time to commit and settle and start a family.  And sometimes consenting adults get married because they are in love and can't imagine life without one another.  Then expectedly or unexpectedly life takes a turn or simply goes on and 2 individuals who were once so perfectly made for each other no longer are. 

A couple very dear to me has taken this turn.  It breaks my heart not only for them but for married couples everywhere.  Marriage sometimes is like nosediving into the unknown.  It's like the 17 year old high school boy that decides his fate by declaring a college major before his balls have fully dropped.  Commitment is a terrifying thing and I can see why so many people are terrified of it. Individuals can't predict which way their partner will grow. We can't even predict which way we'll grow.  I am not entirely sure where I am going with this.  Just random thoughts as I just celebrated my1st wedding anniversary as a couple very dear to me is going through a divorce. I guess like everything in life you take your chances on what you believe in and the course of life makes it happen or not. 

Yanks

I am officially a Yankees fan.  I wasn't always but now I am. Raised a Jersey girl, I've always had a fondness for the Yanks.  But I'll be honest I never really understood the insane passion that went into being a fan.  The kind of dedication that leads someone to tattoo their team's logo onto their flesh or buy everything from magnets to socks to beer cozies representing their team.  I was the kind of fan that said the day after the big game, "Did they win?  Awesome!". Yes that was me.

Then 4 years ago I met the biggest Yankees fan I've ever met.  My husband and his family bleed blue.  First he bought me the jersey. Naturally the hat followed.  I didn't really think it was my look but what the heck.  He just had to remind me when they were playing.

Last week, I think game 3, my hubby went to a local sports bar to check out the game.  After running some errands I decided to join him.  What began as a solo event grew into a table of 5.  Tammy noticed there were five parties of 1 each with their solo cheering section. One by one she gathered the guys.  Everyone was for it because let's face it, Mariner's fans hate the Yanks.  Jose was among the group and he had unofficially created the NW Yankee fan group.  His group went to games together and gathered at local pubs for the ones they had to miss.  

Game 4.  My husband was out of town and I went to represent for this party of 2.  The group I met along with a few others that found us had grown.  We drank, we cheered, we chanted.  I left early for Halloween 2009 (see earlier post).

Game 5.  I get to the pub to meet my peeps in the back room we've now reserved as private.  We hug, we high 5. My husband is stuck in an airport and we all talk about how much it sucks.  We drink, we cheer, we chant, we cry.  We're ok because game 6 will be home and my husband can watch them win.

Game 6.  My husband is back.  Our group has tripled in size.  I don't know 1/2 these people but eff it.  We're all buddies.  We're all wearing blue and we're all chanting the same chants.  Then we get annoying and start chanting everything to the "Let's go Yankees" 4 syllable chant.  The bar hates us.  Shit.  I'm a fan and I find us annoying.  "KA ATE HUD SON!"  "KA ATE HUD SON!" every time A-Rod does something awesome.  We talk about what part of Jersey or New York we're from.  We talk about work, kids, nothing.  

So now I'm a fan whether for the right or wrong reasons.  I love the Yanks.  There's a camaraderie among fans that I finally get. It is awesome.  I look forward to next season when I can remind my husband to put on his jersey. 

Halloween 2009

I had the most bizarre night that I almost don't know how to articulate.  But I will try.  

My husband is out of town this weekend so I decided to go ahead and plan something fun for Halloween.  Recently I made a new friend, I'll call her Tube Top.  TT is my neighbor and we met about 2 months ago.  She is the kind of person that will drink with you until you pass out and take you out for Bloody Mary's on her tab as soon as you come to.  She's spontaneous and has an unending supply of energy that comes from god-knows-where.  She doesn't work and is supported by her wealthy father who supposedly doesn't know she isn't working or has a suspended license for her DUI.  I met her parents and it's true.  So TT is a character.  She is also the kind of person that is so well guarded that I think even she doesn't know who she is.  I call her friend but she is an acquaintance at best.  I know she doesn't know this because one day she said to me, "You don't have many girlfriends do you?  I mean no offense."  None taken because I have a ton and none of them will ever meet her.

A few weeks ago Tube Top asked me if I wanted to go to a swanky Halloween party with her at the W Hotel. A classy joint for sure and an eye out for plans why would I refuse?  Not wanting to spend any money on a costume I borrowed a risque referee costume she had stuffed in the corner of her bottom drawer.  The party started at 8:30. She arrived after midnight.

When I got to her place at 9:30 she didn't have a stitch of makeup on and was waiting on another friend to arrive.  After 1/2 hour I decided to meet up and go ahead with another group of friend's that TT had recruited for this party.  

The party was something.  As something as a party would be in the massive ballroom of a 5 star hotel with over 800 people dressed up in their holiday best.  Awesome that I went.  I will never do it again.  

I know Tube Top arrived with her equally awesome acquaintance in tow.  We saw them before they left after staying for about 1/2 hr.  I went out for a quick smoke, got a text from TT who wound up at out Divers, our local favorite bar.  Already several drinks deep and drunk I spotted a cab on this hectic night and hopped in to join them.  

When we got back to our building she offered to walk my dog.  I gave her my keys and passed out on her bed.  Upon her arrival I decided it was time to go.  My keys were no where to be found.  I'll tell you there are no words that can express how annoying 3 drunk people in a studio trying to figure out what happened to lost keys can be.  Tube Top obviously got into my apartment to get my dog.  She swore on her life she gave the keys back to me which was impossible because I was in bed.  TT's friend chimed in and told me I had them because she walked my dog.  Exactly.  It made no sense.  So I gave up and curled up in a fetal position on an oversized chair in her studio.  TT cranked up the music at 3 am.  Another friend shows up at 4.  TT decides she wants to get more drunk.  It's loud and I decide that I need to make like I'm knocked out in a theater with surround sound in order to keep it all together.  I go to pee.  I see my reflection and I look like a cheap hooker out of hell.  

I'm staring at the clock, only 3 more hours to go before the office opens and they can let me back home.  Wait.  Today is Daylight Savings Time.  Fuck me.  

To top this all off I'm dog sitting my friend's dog this weekend.  I have the keys to his apartment.  I know this because TT and her friend keep reminding me that I do in fact have my keys as they point to not-my-keys repeatedly throughout the night.  9 am and 1 hour to go.  Wait, make that 2.  I go to my friend's to walk his dog and pass out on his couch.  Why didn't I do this 6 hours ago?

Six hours have passed and I am still in a daze from last night's events.  I look in mirror before hopping into the shower to wash off the day old washed up hooker look.  I decide it's not a good look for me. 

Pissed

I am pissed.  My dad just left me a voicemail telling me that him and mom are going to Maine next week.  Last year was worse when they told me they were going to San Francisco "because why not?!" I'll tell you why not.  What about because your daughter moved to Seattle over 3 years ago and you've never visited.  At 1st it was because my boyfriend and I were living in sin.  I get that.  Now that we're married there is no reason!  None!  So when you tell me that you're traveling to this that and the other thing it hurts.  It hurts when I see that my one friend Maria's parents have visited her so many times since she's moved from Wisconsin that she's literally lost count.  It angers me when my husband's dad has been out here twice and his parents came together once they had enough money saved to visit both sons on the west coast. 

I get that my parents aren't the warm fuzzy type and we can go weeks without speaking on the phone.  That's just how we are.  But I've told them I wanted them to see my beautiful city.  I invited them several times to my home.

So I am sincerely hurt.  It's raining and I have to meet my friends for a birthday celebration.  So thanks for letting me vent.

Ode to PNN

It's amazing how some of the seemingly mundane choices we make impact our lives.  This summer I joined PNN for all the wrong reasons; in quest for money.  Not only did it become a forum and sounding board for my most random thoughts, it became therapeutic. Soon after I started writing for another blog that I did get paid for but it lacked the compassion and sincerity that I dedicated here.  

This afternoon fellow PNNer Hali offered to pick me up to meet PNNer Carm for dinner.  Since moving to Seattle I developed an anxiety towards driving which I can discuss at another time.  I graciously accepted her offer.  Hali drives stick.  I am impressed.  She conquered her 1st major hill at a stop with me in the car.  She is my inspiration. Not only did she pick up and move across the country with nothing but a pocketful of hope, but she's kicking ass at it.

Carm lives in the most charming house built at the turn of the century with something new to be discovered in every room.  Her and her groom have a penchant for decking their house out for Halloween. It's an inviting and inspiring feeling.  She gives me a glimpse of the life I would want if I were still a suburban gal; the house, the 2 beautiful daughters complete with backyard and wheel barrow.  The only thing missing was the white picket fence which is only a Home Depot trip away.

I think about the people we meet here and the stories that will never be written about.  I have made some amazing friends here on PNN. We are a forum of wonderful and varied people.  

It's amazing how some of the seemingly mundane choices we make impact our lives.

For All Intents & Purposes

For all intents and purposes I just need to put it out there that for years I thought this phrase was, "for all intensive purposes". 

It was a Friday sometime last summer.  A friend of my husband and I came to visit from PA.  Brilliant man, he's the head of the calculus department at a prestigious private high school in Manhattan.  He told us the very same story I stated above.  A look of confusion came over my face as I said, "So it's not for all intensive purposes?". It was not.  I, like him, thought if it's a serious enough point you're trying to make then it is in fact intense.  Although that wasn't the case.

Last night I repeated that very story to my friend Maria.  On that note I told her that my friend Brian was devastated when he learned well into his 30's that a pony doesn't grow up to become a horse but in fact an adult pony.  I look up to see poor Maria with that familiar confused look. She just found out.  "So what are baby horses called?".  I didn't know. 

Lastly I recall finding out that a wheel barrow is not a wheel barrel. Hey, in my defense I never saw the thing written out so as far as I was concerned it sounded like a wheel barrel therefore it was.  So I wonder what else it is I am saying incorrectly.   But for all intents and purposes I get by.

In case you were wondering.  It's a foal.

Oxymoron

I am an oxymoron.  I always have been and I'm not quite sure how this happened to me.  Although I am well aware that a proper portion of meat is equivalent to a deck of cards I'll do things like have an entire T-bone steak for dinner complete with garlic mashed potatoes and vegetables with 2 glasses of wine.  Then I'll head over to the local bar for a vodka soda and a few shots of something tasty.  The very next day I'll start my day with 2 eggs and black coffee, run 5 miles and have 2 more high protein meals more appropriate to my size than yesterday's meal.

I have the occasional cigarette when I drink but sometimes I drink more than twice a week and "occasional" becomes anything but.  I'm also at the gym approximately 5 times a week and pretty religious about cardio and weights.  Then I'll get a hankering for a neon meal like a bag of Cheetos and a Mountain Dew.  But I'll bet your last dollar that I will happily snack on raw almonds and light yogurt the rest of the week and feast on grilled chicken, tofu and steamed vegetables and do it all with a smile.  

It's like I have that little devil sitting on my left shoulder.  You know, the one that's always on TV next to his angel counterpart on the right shoulder.  Only I think I have a demon sitting atop each wing on my back.

Commador 64

I got a new computer last Saturday.  I'm 30ish-ish and I've never ever owned my own computer.  Since dad got the ol' Commador 64 back in '83 I think, he's been my computer source (dad that is, not the Commador).  Then thankfully my boyfriend turned fiance turned husband had one too.  Then it got sick.  It got a virus and that was that.  From that point on I wanted a MAC.  And I gots me a fucking MAC.  Now I feel all growns up and stuff.  I turned to my husband as I handed over my AMEX to the mac guy and said, "Hon this is the 1st time I'm dropping over a grand on something that's NOT a pocketbook!"  Oh gosh I thought that was funny.  Him, not so much.

Oh how I've missed you PNN.  It's been a long time and I've noticed it's been like that for some of the old crew.  I'm looking forward to writing again.  I've really missed it and I've really missed the interaction and feedback.  

I think part of why I stopped writing too is because a lot my friends became followers and I noticed guards being put up.  How do I talk about Jane's idiotic choices when Jane tells me she's been following my blog?  A blessing and a curse but I love that you guys visit and I hope you continue to.  I'll share the stories as they come and I look forward to it.

It's been a long trip but it's good to be home!  

Funktified and it Sucks

Have you ever had one of those days where you're in a terrible funk and you can't quite put your finger on what it is that's troubling you?  I'm having one of those days.

My computer has had a virus for about 3 weeks now and I've been relegated to using our apartment's common area computer only when available.  I want a Mac because so I'm done with PC's and dammit those frickin, 'Hi, I'm a MAC and I'm a PC' commercials are genius.  Unfortunately my husband doesn't think it's in our best interest to get a new computer at this time.  I can't imagine that my being unemployed for 8 months would have anything to do with it.  Also I hate his computer because a sugar momma he used to do got it for him before I was a twinkle in his eye.  Normally this doesn't bother me since now what's his is ours but eh.  Shitty day brings up shitty feelings.

My job is uninspiring.  I know, I know you hear shit all the time about how you're not supposed to bitch about work online because god forbid so and so sees it and blah blah blah.  Happy to be working?  Yes?  Inspired? zzzzzz.  So what is it I want to do? I don't know.  Such pressure pisses me off.

My husband works too much.  It hasn't always been like this. As a matter of fact we were amazed about the true work life balance that Seattle had to offer for the 1st couple of years.  Then after his 2nd promotion it all became a thing of the past.  Now he's gone 12-14 hours a day.  I actually miss him  I try to show support.  I don't bother him with calls, texts, emails unless it's important or something completely stupid that will make him laugh.  I don't complain about not eating dinner together anymore and just appreciate the time we share on the weekends.  Then last night I got drunk and all the reservations I had came spewing out of my mouth in some incoherent bitchy babble.  Surprisingly nothing good came out of it and I washed down a sleeping pill with some PBR to finish the night already.  As soon as I opened my eyes this morning I was like, "Oh WTF did I do that for?".  I immediately apologized and he understood.  We had our eggs and coffee and parted ways for the day.

So here I am funky and sad eyed in the common area wanting the last days of Seattle summer sun to perk me up.  Poof!  I wish.

Seattle Shakedown - Version 1

Last Saturday I had the pleasure of meeting Carm and Jessicalee.  I have to admit I was a little nervous as I had NO IDEA what to expect.  Actually, I think I expected a pseudo bachelorette party with like 10 vaguely familiar heads/names all sporting tiaras or boas if not both.  Surprisingly I was greeted by a tame party of 3 - Carm, her hubby and Jessica.  They're like, "You made it!  Looks like it's just us."  I was like, "What about all those people that were fired up for the Tacoma Takedown/Seattle Shakedown"?!  I was sorely disappointed I think more so than the other 2 because nothing irks me more than people canceling last minute.  Especially when people travel for said event.  I suppose I should have known based on the non responses to Carm's Seattle Shakedown post.  That said, it is what it is and it was what we made of it.

Surprisingly Carm looked nothing like a ladybug but she was as sweet as I imagined her to be.  She was drinking something pink.  Jessica IS her avitar.  Only a bigger version and equally sweet as pie.  She was drinking something blue.  Carm's hubby has the heart of a saint for tolorating as much estrogen as he did that night because the estrogen levels simply multiplied as the night went on.

Jess' friend "V" joined us shortly after I order something clear.  She is awesome with awesome energy and a black eye and we automatically click.  Later their other friend joins (dear god I can't remember her name).  I call her nipples for the rest of the night because they spoke to me and made quite an impression.  An appetizer and few cocktails in, I invite my girlfriend to join since her evening plans ended early.  We all head on over to Chopstix.

Chopstix is a dueling piano bar that Jess and Mr. W have been to.  The food looked good, the crowd looked better and the energy was amazing.  There were also 5000 bachelorette's celebrating and no sausages within an earshot - with the exception of god bless him - Carm's hubby!  Later on my hubby and our friend Brian met up to contribute to male / female ratio.  Carm gets her first shot EVER, compliments of Ms. Lee.  And everyone leaves standing.  The night comes to a close and we all hug good bye.  

Carm headed home as her and her hubby were heading to Leavenworth to celebrate their anniversary the next day.  Jess and her girls headed to Cowgirls Inc. for some serious partying.  Me and my crew headed to Divers where we met up with a few more friends.

Although the night turned out to be nothing like I expected it to be, I had fun.  It was such a pleasure to meet 2 people that share this intimate world with me and that made it special.  Thanks ladies.  The pleasure was all mine.

Keeping Disfunction Alive

Today was insane at the Treehouse.  For those of you that don't know, it's a place I volunteer at that helps foster families.  The Warehouse is a "store" where all the merchandise is free.  Now is back to school and everyone is gearing up with "new" clothes and school supplies.  I know a glimpse of what I see is just a fraction of the real number of foster families out there and I was overwhelmed. 

I continue to volunteer my time because I think it's a wonderful cause and this is a way for me to feel like I'm helping families in need.  Although I understand that unforeseeable events happen that affect families with displacement, I sometimes feel frustrated witnessing certain situations.  The situation that upset me today was when I met 3 beautiful little girls probably around the ages of 1, 4 and 7.  Their foster mom said to me, "You must see lots of grandparents come in here."  I agreed.  She said, "I was a foster child myself and now I take care of all 3 of my grandchildren."  She loved it; sweet woman, happy children (or so it seemed) and just nice people.  But how do people allow this cycle to continue?  Why have 3 children if you know damn well that you can't even take care of 1?  Didn't you learn from your mama? Oh wait...

I know I am no one to judge especially if grandma is loving life and the kids are treated well.  But I think it's a disservice to those children keeping the cycle alive.  I think it's sad that grandma didn't instill in her daughter the value of parenthood.  It angers me to think that more than likely 1 of those 3 girls, if not all of them, will take the wrong path somewhere down the road and give up their children just like mom did and just like grandma did.

Kung Pow Pho Chili

Yesterday I brought my lunch to work as I do on most days as I am not rich just yet.  I had leftover homemade chili in one of those awesome plastic take home containers most Asian restaurants offer.

Erik walked in and is all, "Mmmm.  Thai."  I'm like "No, not really just chili."  Then he goes on about how he just had Thai the other night and take home was in the exact same container. 

Carrie walked in and is all, "Mmmm.  I smell Chinese." I'm like "No, not really I'm Filipino and this is chili." 

I'm not upset I just think it's funny that people still make associations.  I mean maybe the container really threw them off or maybe my chili really smells like Chinese.  Or maybe I do. 

FB - Creating Intimacy or Distance?

A good friend of mine just gave birth to her second child yesterday.  I found out from her husband's sister's status update on Facebook.  I gasped in shock as I didn't realize 9 months had already passed.  She was a good friend.  She is a good friend.  Did my oblivion mean our friendship was past tense?  Moments later her husband posted pictures of their newest addition and my eyes welled with tears of joy for them.  Really?  It's been 9 months?

The last time I saw her was in March 2009 and her 4 month bump was barely noticeable with today's trend in flowy tops.  We no longer live in the same state and our age has lead us to "other things and busy lives".  I think we spoke once since then.  Now I'm learning about life altering events from Facebook statuses.

I wonder if Facebook is saving friendships or ruining them.

Yesterday my good friend had her second child, a life altering moment.  I think I appreciate the instantaneous updates that our technology allows us to experience.  At the same time it saddens me a little that such intimate moments can be transmitted and shared with just about anyone which blur the lines of intimacy for our most precious moments. 

Boobies

I love big boobs and I can't wait until the hubby and I are rich enough to buy me a pair.  Granted I was born with breasts and some even say it's proportionate to my 5'2" frame.  But B is so average and I'm ready for an upgrade.  Sure, they're cute and perky (for now) but I want round, voluptuous, decadent breasts.  I want to purchase the kind that's round and full and requires no bra.  The kind that makes men oogle and women look twice with envy.  Yeah, I want those. 

I know people that think I'm nuts.  I have friends that have gotten breast reductions.  I also have a friend that had breast implants.  So I understand both sides. I know they can cause back problems and all this stuff but maaan; what I would do to even out these hips and make my middle look smaller.  What I would do to once in my life buy a bra that doesn't require padding or "tee shirt support".  

I want to be able to turn on the TV and never say to myself again, "Damn I wish I had her tits."  I never want to come a across another Playboy and say to myself, "I want those (and YES I know they're airbrushed)."  I never want to be at the hot spot in town where all the kiddies play and say....well yeah you get the idea.

Yes, yes I know this all so superficial and shallow.  But really, so what?  I've got those moments and it's human.  When that moment starts in 7th grade and your bra size hasn't gone up since then, then sister, you know it's the real deal.  Sure I love what God has given me.  I think He's awesome for giving me my shoulders and arms.  They're surprisingly skinny and show fantastic muscle tone when I work out.  Believe it or not I'm pretty ok with my ass too, rare I know.  SO you can't say I'm ungrateful.  But all the eating well and daily workouts won't make my breasts bigger.  I've tried.

So when times pick up and we recover from the months I have been unemployed, I look forward to the day I go on "vacation" to LA and come back looking refreshed and everyone I know says, "Gosh that vacation did you some good.  You look great."  I'll stand tall, stick out my sore chest with pride and give them a big fat thank you. 

Inconvenient Truth

I take the bus to work and home; it's a commute that's usually 20 minutes on a good day even during rush hour.  Yesterday evening as my bus driver was zipping through the HOV lanes past miles of traffic she said, "There's a terrible accident on the bridge.  There WILL be delays."  Sure enough the lane ended and our traffic just begun. 

The not knowing exactly where the problem is or how long you'll be in traffic is the part that can drive you out of your mind.  About an hour into our non journey a young lady needed to get off the bus.  She had to pee.  She pointed to a grocery store about 2 blocks away and said she would just hop on the next bus.  About 15 minutes later she came back onto OUR bus since we had only moved about a block or so. 

An hour and a half later, the middle aged man next to me asked if he could use my phone.  I reluctantly gave it to him so he could call his woman about being late and possibly "missing group tonight".  About a 1/2 hour after that he asked to use it again.  This time to tell his therapist there was no way he was going to make group.  Now 2 hours deep people are jumping ship as we can't even make it back onto the freeway. 

Finally 3 hours in, past the debris and clean up crews we are on our way home. 

The woman in front of me with the unkempt eyebrows starts speaking to the woman across the aisle.  She missed her 6 o'clock curfew for the women's shelter and will be spending tonight on the streets.  She talked about women getting raped.  She said, "It's not fun out there.  This city can be a crazy place."

Then I realized for all of us that missed dinner, our favorite TV show or therapy; our inconveniences aren't really inconvenient at all.

When to End a Marriage

When do you know to walk away from a marriage?  I just got off the phone with someone who is very close to me and all signs point to her ending her marriage. 

As a newlywed, I have strong feelings about doing whatever it takes to make it work.  But what do you do when 2 people grow apart in such opposite directions that no compass or GPS system can bring you back home?  How does this happen?

My friend and her husband seem to have grown so far apart from each other that dare I say I think they can't stand one another.  It breaks my heart.  I remember when they 1st met about 6 years ago.  They were best friends.  They couldn't stop talking about each other when the other was absent.  Her friends became his and vice versa.  They complimented each other so well, their relationship was the envy of our friends.  We all wanted what they had.  What they had.

Then they got pregnant.

My friend came from a broken home.  Mom and dad were divorced, both parents were drug addicts and she was on her own by the age of 17.  She vowed never to put her child(ren) what she went through.  She vowed to be the most supportive, loving mother she could possibly be.  Her husband came from a "balanced" home, parents in tact and well educated with summer camps and sports to boot.

Motherhood changed her.  Can you blame her?  He did not change.  He went into the marriage not expecting to.  Can you blame him?  She did.  She changed, so he should have to....or should he?  He is a loving father who supports and loves their daughter very much.  She expects him to stop hanging out with his boys as much as he used to.  I mean, she stopped girls night out.  But did she need to?

I usually take pride in the advice I can give my friends on relationships.  I tend to look at things objectively and take both sides into consideration.  I also realize that between her side and his side lies the truth. 

What saddens me the most is that I do not see him reaching her expectations of him and vice versa.  She wants him to change in such a way that simply will not happen because he does not want to.  He wants her to accept who he is as he was when he entered this marriage but she believes that parenthood demands the changes she is asking.

Both are torn.  Both are broken.  Both are shells of who they used to be and it breaks my heart.  I feel like nothing can fix them and they need to end this marriage.  Why then does the vow of matrimony call for better or for worse?   

Our Friends at HSN and QVC

Every now and then I have trouble sleeping and I switch the TV on to one of the 2 home shopping stations: QVC or HSN.  Minutes of watching these channels will usually put me into a trance and lull me to sleepy time. 

First I take notice of those who had their acrylics and gels touched up that week.  Then I take note of those who need it.  I listen intently as a product piece (jewelry is my favorite) is talked up in the most 'exquisite' of ways. 

"How DARLING is this piece?  Just look at that sparkle and shine.  Have you ever seen such brilliance?!  You will be the envy of all your friends."

"This piece will become a cherished HEIRLOOM for your children, their children AND your children's children.  No one will ever know that you only paid 399.99 plus shipping and handling."

"Just look at the SIZE of that STONE!  You see now with all the celebrities out their like J. Lo and Angelina Jolie dripped in these exquisite gems.  Now you too can have this look at today's special introductory price for just 3 EASY payments of 99.99."

Just as amusing are the women that call to talk about the product they just purchased.  Eight times out of ten they will say something else because for some reason, "Jen" the spokesperson has done her job so well that now caller "Betsy" does in fact feel like Jen is now her girl.

Jen: So we have a caller, Betsy, from Smalltown, Idaho. Hello there Betsy!  So tell us what you love most about this ring.

Betsy:  Hi there Jen you look so beautiful tonight just like you do every night.

Jen: Oh why thank you so much Betsy, aren't you just the most darling little thing!  Now tell me about that ring.

Betsy:  I watch you all the time. 

Jen:  I'm so excited that you love our product!  Don't you just feel like you won the lottery since this item was such a steal?!  *laughs to self*

Betsy:  My granddaughters think you're so pretty...

Ah yes.  QVC and HSN have become friends to many.  I am happy for all the Betsys out there that have found company and solace from shopping with their girls.  I personally prefer tangible girlfriends and shopping malls.  Then again, I come from Jersey.   However, "Jen" too has become my girl because when insomnia kicks in she's there to squelch it.

It's been fun Home Shopping Network.  Thank you and good night.

Ode to my Dive

Have you ever just looked around one day and said to yourself, "What the fuck am I doing?"  This statement could be in reference to actions, situations you may find yourself in or people you are with.   I often find myself saying this after sitting down at my local dive which I affectionately have referred to in the past as Divers. 

Divers is a place my hubby and I found a few weeks after moving to the city.  We were looking for a local place that we could hit up for a cocktail and conversation that was close to home.  After trolling 1st and 2nd Avenues we stumbled upon Divers which we were both reluctant to walk into after our 1st passing.  Little did we know that we would become regulars and befriend all the local drunks.  In the process we've met drunks, losers, druggies, drug dealers and believe it or not some people that were to become good friends. 

From Divers we were introduced to a speakeasy which we've frequented for card games, drinks and some serious dancing...until the place was shut down.  It turns out the place was funded by the feds for what turned out to be one of the largest drug busts in the city.  Who knew?  I just got a kick out of doing something different (sans the drug part).  Although I will say I did get a bit of a kick out of seeing it in the papers when the shit went down. 

At any given time on any day I can walk in and see more than one interesting characters that have become fixtures at D.  My husband and I would typically look out of place at such a dive and I would dare to say we even look preppy in our environment regardless of the missing polo shirts and penny loafers.  

Rob is a old man who works the bar a local golf couse.  He thinks no one knows he's been drinking on the job all day, but we know.  He has a crush on me.  He says I look like an ex and he pulls a picture circa something 80's of some Asian chick that looks nothing like me.

John is an east coaster and keeps saying he can't wait to meet some exotic Asian woman to make his life complete *gag*.  He's got the biggest nostrils I've ever seen on a human being.  That and a very large front tooth. 

Tim is a charismatic fat dude that deals coke.  Or so I've heard.  Nice guy but I hate what he does therefore I am torn about our friendship. 

Ana has a crush on a bartender that successfully strings her along.  I'm guessing it's for the tips - whatever that is. 

Maria is my friend.  She moved from Wisconsin and talks about going back.  She loves reading and crosswords.

Sally is a dainty little thing that mooches off her boyfriend.  She doesn't work and doesn't drive but she's cute as hell and we're pretty sure she gives a mean BJ.

Cara is a lawyer.  She too is my friend and doesn't fit the Divers profile but she's hanging with her hubby who is just a social and charismatic as mine.

As I wait for my drink I wonder what my parents would say if they knew all that came with the D.  Surely my cotillion, the violin, piano, ballet lessons and trips around the world should not have led me here.  But mom and dad won't visit and if they did I'd take them to a place with wine and cloth napkins.  

Yeah more often than not, usually when I'm waiting for a refill, I look around and think, "what the eff?"  But then the next drink comes and it's all good and think about what I'll write next.    

Bittersweet Monday

A lot has happened since Michael and Farrah have passed.  I talked a dear friend off a ledge and found out the next day that she (metaphorically) jumped when I turned around.  Thankfully she is on her way to recovery.  Another one of my closest friends just had emergency surgery to remove cancerous cells.  My husband and I hosted a friend's visit from PA for 3 nights.  I hiked 10 miles for the 1st time on a trail at Mt. Rainier.  I got a job. 

It's amazing how consumed one can get when someone you care so deeply about is in pain, be it emotional or physical.  I miss the days when my biggest worries were whether or not mom and dad would let me spend the night at Heather's or whether or not they'd buy $70 Cavaricci's for me. 

Hiking was an amazing experience and I never ever in my wildest dreams thought I would ever have the stamina to hike 10 miles.  Granted I didn't climb to the peak and beat my chest but some of the switchbacks were pretty tough. 

Weeks ago I posted 'Broken' when I really felt just that.  Today is Monday and for the 1st time in months it felt like a Monday.  But I am so okay with that; because this week Friday will be that much sweeter.

Dead Celebrities

Today we lost 2 HUGE American icons.  First off I need to say that I feel terrible that Michael Jackson stole Farrah Fawcett's limelight because in my opinion they both deserved it.

Michael Jackson:  I recall getting his Thriller album at Pathmark (back when the east coast chain sold records -ok I'm dating myself) and listening to it endlessly as I moved the needle and memorized the lyrics to every single song. 

Farrah Fawcett: Personally I didn't watch Charlie's Angels but her beauty made me question my dark and "oriental" features. 

The landscape of our country as we know it is limited to a finite definition as is OUR life.  To see these icons' lives documented back to back makes me think about how I want to be remembered.

I can only speak for Mr. Jackson as I "know" him better than Ms. Fawcett.  Today people prefer to reference and remember the musical genius behind the Motown magic and moonwalk.  We will acknowledge but prefer not to remember the molestation and the black to white transformation.

None of us are perfect and when I die I hope that people remember the sun shiny me and the person that always strived to see the good in things and above all the laughter that I've tried to provide. 

When I was about 5 years old I asked my mom why only famous people died because some famous person's death was all over the media that day.  I'll never forget the sadness and fear I felt when she explained to me while pruning the front yard bushes that EVERYONE dies.... 

Alls I know is today we are not dead.  Let's do what we can to make our memories good ones because in the end, that's what we become. 

Altered Memories

Yesterday I chatted with an old friend.  Sixteen years ago Michelle and I were best friends but our friendship ended in the juvenile way that young teens handle things.  Since then we've forged new friendships, gotten married and I moved across the country.

We reminisced about times past; parties we've gone to, people we've spent too many hours with. We discussed relationship triangles, abortions, pothead friends and broken hearts.  We spoke about our friend's escort service, how we were appalled at his new lifestyle and employment inquiry and how we both refused to work for him.  We also discussed the irony of him running this service from the bedroom in his parents' house while mom and dad had a makeshift chapel in the basement complete with congregation and Sunday services conducted by a real life priest.  It was so absurd, not only in hindsight but even at the time.  Life was amusing to say the least.  Someone should have written a book.   

In our 2 hour discussion I was intrigued by how much she didn't recall of what I had remembered.  In turn, she felt the same.  Entire events were completely gone from memory.  Like the time outside of Ruby Tuesday's she had so much hairspray in her hair and when her brother went to light a cigarette her hair caught on fire.  She told me I doubled over in laughter and she was so pissed at me.  Gone.  I don't recall the event at all.  As a matter of fact I told her I don't think anyone's hair catching on fire is a laughing matter.  She told me even now she thought it was hysterical.   She couldn't recall the time her cat dragged in a used condom and dropped it off right at her mom's foot during breakfast.  Nothing.

So I wonder how much of what we remember is real but I also wonder how much we don't recall.  In other words, maybe our perception is reality and truth hangs somewhere in the middle.

If I Were a Man I'd be Gay

I remember fall 2 years ago I looked out the window at the Space Needle and saw a flag with the number 15 on it. 

"Honey what's with the 15 on the needle?"

"Hon, first off that's a 12 not a 15.  It's for the 12th man."

Ah yes, but of course.  The 12th man is otherwise known as the term commonly used to describe the fans within a stadium.  In this case the Seattle Seahawks.  Why you ask?  Because most football leagues allow a maximum of 11 players per team on the playing field at a time, the term denotes the attempt of a team's fans to help their team (thank you Wikipedia). 

My husband explained this to me like it was second nature.  It's like he came out of the womb with this knowledge.  Ask 100 girls what the 12th man is and I'll bet the farm that only 10 will know.

Guys talk about stuff like "first and ten" and "picking up 6 yards on the second play".  I don't know about you but all I hear is 'jibber mcjibber wings over there....' I've tried so hard understand this game and the only part I've successfully picked up is touchdown and line of scrimmage (it's where they start - yay me). 

But rest assured I can tell you all about why you can't wear that light blue top with your jeans and why the aubergine scarf looks better on Kate than Alice.  That I can tell you in fine detail.  Football?  Not so much. 

So what is it about guys and football?  I think it's the structure of the game.  There are yards and downs and stuff involved that is defined.  Women like things that are pretty and we talk about things that are debatable.  We like it that way.  I know I do.  I can tell you right now, if I were born male I'd sure as hell be gay. 

Conchita this is for you.

eh yo Conchita????  this is for you!  I came on here thinkgin i'd write somethinf proofound and edit and do all the stuff i noramally wouold do if i'd eddit ti be sober.  BUT   you had a special request and i told you no probs so here I am in awl my gory. (glory(/

there is notning improtnat I reallyh need to say but BUT I will post anyweay because at this point in time there was and ins (perhaps) too much draaaama that was going on and I would much rather have people reading bulll shat than the negativity that was going on.

that said... here is to nonesensical stuff and sunshiny days in the northwest and other stuff that we all take for granted.  here ye.  here ye. 

\sober post to come....swwear to bejeaeesus.  mad love.  peace out and happyh froday. 

Flirting

Is flirting bad?  I was always a natural at flirting and I did it with reckless abandon when I was single.  So should it stop once you're in a committed relationship?  I've witnessed many friends in committed relationships, guys and girls, continue to flirt with complete strangers.  My guess is that we do it because it's fun, it's a boost to the ego, to know you still got it. 

So why do we get totally bent out of shape when we find out he's done it?  Insecurity.

We're supposed to be the apple of his eye, his one and only desire.  We should be the only one of the opposite sex he should have engaging conversations with that has nothing to do with work.  We should be the only one he flirts with because when you flirt with someone it means you want to sleep with them. 

Was that it?  Because it's sounds logical to me. 

So, in terms of flirting what's considered acceptable and what isn't?   Is it ok as long as there are no malicious intentions and it's completely innocent (read: no sex wanted)?  Or is it only ok if we do it and he doesn't?  

draaaank

Boo.  How'd it be if we all posted druunk   stuff.  oh my good ness.  ok.  Craziness itlooks like everybody is going thru stff that sux...big time.  maaaan  i wish that we were'nt a;;  goiing thru things because life would be so much better if we weren't going thru the drama..,./;.maaaan...

Where My Girls At?

As of late I haven't had much to say.   A few weeks ago Espresso Girl said she had writer's block and I agreed and felt I did too to some extent.  I've noticed a slew of new writers (welcome!) but I am a bit saddened to see how some of our old crew has slowed down in writing, myself included. 

My email inbox used to overflow with updated blogs and comments and lately, nothing to sneeze at.

I wonder if we've exhausted our "material".  I wonder if the novelty has worn off the way Friendster did before MySpace before Facebook.  I hope it hasn't.  I hope we've just hit a dry spell and like any relationship, we'll recover. 

Maybe I need to buy you all a cocktail or 5.  Maybe we just need time.  I just hope this isn't the beginning of the end.  I've seen too many of those in my lifetime. 

Is it the pressure?  Are we all looking to write about something worth saying and getting reaction to?  Are we done after receiving the blue mug in the mail?  Maybe we're all just too busy.  Or maybe there's really nothing to write about. 

I'm still holding on for the comeback.  

Coffee Snob

Mmmmm cawfee.  My day hasn't officially begun until I have my 1st cup.  This love affair of mine began in high school.  My parents had a Mr. Coffee coffee maker in a beige and brown motif that had 1980's written all over it. 

When I left for college I bought the mini version of what mom and dad had to bring comforts of home to my dorm room along with the Sam's Club canister of Maxwell House. 

For special treats I'd make a Dunken Donuts run.  Wawa's was a close 2nd depending what I was in the mood for.  I swore up and down nothing would ever beat the smooth silky taste of a Dunken Donuts coffee.  The year was 1994 and I liked it light and sweet.  Occasionally when I'd get a wild hair I would grab a Wawa coffee 1/2 vanilla from the cappuccino machine 1/2 regular coffee for the perfect vanilla coffee fix.  Perfection.

Then I moved to Seattle and everything changed.  I became THAT girl.  I became the coffee snob.

My 1st job out here was working with a company called Sur La Table.  They pride themselves in culinary expertise and the lunch room didn't have coffee from some antiquated industrial sized drip coffee maker.  No, no, no.  We had our choice of using 5 top of the line espresso machines.  What if you were the mood for a nice cup simple drip coffee?  For that you can make yourself an Americano (a shot of espresso with steamed water).  Drip coffee was frowned upon.  Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months.  Before I knew it I preferred espresso to coffee, Americanos to drip and black to light. 

I later acquired said fancy espresso machine for myself.  When I do order coffee now I prefer it's from Starbucks.  Occasionally I would like "a regular" at home so I've purchased a Bodum French Press.  Long gone are the days of the drip machine. 

I'll admit it.  I became a coffee snob but my love affair with coffee continues.  Those that don't indulge in what I consider one of life's greatest pleasures are missing out on a sacred ritual.  It's not JUST about the caffeine, but it's a soothing, calming part of my day that allows me at least 10 minutes of indulgent me time that happens to give me a boost of energy to start my day.  From Dunken Donuts coffee cups to espressos with my pinkies up!

Broken

November 14, 2008, that is the date on the release papers from my previous employer. Like a dirty little secret that was discussed and documented about me, right behind me.  I found out on Thursday, November 20th.  I will never forget because my company notepad has the date on the upper right corner atop an empty page still waiting for voicemails that were never retrieved and notes from meetings I had already accepted. 

My company decided to officially lay me off the day before my wedding.  This was their gift to me.  In an instant I was a stay at home housewife.  My identity as I knew it would was no longer. 

I wasn't too happy with work.  But who is really?  I did the daily grind, made a decent living and I was an independent woman who didn't rely on anyone to help me survive.  I was about to marry the love of my life and things couldn't have been better.

Then just like that; my entire world changed.  In the beginning there were no tears and reluctantly I was at peace with what had happened.  I was filled with hope and excitement of endless possibilities.  I thought about all the things I wanted to do, things I wanted to explore.  There was so much energy and excitement and I was ready to make everything happen.

It's June 2009 and here I am; months later, elations deflated and hope sucked out of me.  My efforts are futile.  I hear it's because of the economy.  However, my insecurities are screaming reminding me that I am surrounded by friends and family more fortunate than me.  I am filled with envy but my smile and enthusiasm make their best efforts to hide the pestering demons inside.  I question my sanity.  The questions and answers don't change.  People are reluctant to ask how the search is going, but they do, and like a broken record I tell them, "...not so well but times are tough and I'm trying to staying positive".  They nod in approval as I lie.

The weekend ends and Monday gives birth to a new week.  Wednesday comes and the energy and excitement of mid week surrounds me.  Friday is here and everyone celebrates with laughter and drinks but to me everyday is Friday yet I smile and raise my glass and celebrate with friends.  I am happy and carefree from the stresses of work.  People remind me that I am lucky.  "Now you can do what you really want to".

What I really want to do silence the voices that belittle me everyday.  Every application that goes unanswered is another kick to my gut.  I get up and do it all over again day in day out.  I wonder about the opportunities I may have missed and question decisions I have made.  What if I missed a window of opportunity and this is why I am here?   Now I'm sounding like a true American.   

I do volunteer work.  I run.  I signed up for a marathon.  I do things to occupy my time and build my character.  Yet I feel weak and wonder what it will take to make me strong again.  I question if this is my test then I curse the plan. 

This is my story.  It's an internal one that is masked by a made up face, pressed clothes and impeccably groomed facade.  My manicure is flawless and not a hair is out of place.  It tells the story that I want to tell; that I am fine, I am positive and I am continuing to make my best efforts.  That my chest is full of faith and I still have my shit together despite the odds.  

I think of the other stories.  The ones I don't hear, the ones that aren't told.  I think about those that had so much more to lose than just their pride and think about how I can make a molehill into a mountain.  

We struggle and we don't have a manual to reference when something inside breaks.  We make mistakes and self medicate in an effort to ease the pain and fix what's broken. We bandage broken bones and stitch up bruises instead of putting them in casts and letting bruises fade on their own.   

I am reminded of struggles past.  The first time my heart was broken and the tears and pain and emptiness that didn't end.  My days started and ended in tears.  People told me things would get better and my heart would heal in time.  I didn't believe them but it did.  The 1st time I lost my job and the disappointment and failure I felt.  Wondering what I did wrong and how I should have fixed it.  I would never gain my confidence back.  I did.  The time I couldn't support myself anymore and had to move back home.  The shame and self doubt made me question my ability to pick up and become independent once again.  I did.

So I look back and think of times that have broken me.  I swear this time is the worst, but it always is.  Then another day begins and the days blur and I can barely remember when things got better.  Except they did. 

Perky Breasts and Hairy Legs

Everyday I feel like a kid pretending to be an adult.  Are you suppose to wake up one day and say to yourself, "Self lookit. I've got a job (or not), I've got kids (or not), I've got a spouse (or not), I don't live with mom and dad (or do) and I declare adulthood".  According to the calendar and looks I get after being ID'd I am an adult.  Today I met someone at the park who was hosting her 13 year old's birthday party and she stepped away for a few minutes to speak with me and my friends.  At the end she closed with, "THANK YOU.  I just needed to speak to some adults for a minute."

I still pretend to be an adult everyday.  I put on makeup and high heels and dropped the "like" out of like every other word I like used to say.  I do things like pay bills, grocery shop and go to the cleaners.  I do things like swish my red wine around the glass to let it breathe before sipping and approving for the table.

I over hear the 13 year olds at the picnic table next to us and 4 boys in the group are comparing leg hair.  One says, "My leg is hairier than yours" the other says, "I shaved mine by accident".  I tell my husband to show them his.  He doesn't.  The girls are growing into their bodies and their hyper activeness is slowing down.  They still scream emphatically when another girl gets dropped off and hug with such vigor.  They hop on the swings and push each other with their best efforts to go all the way around. 

I turn and look at my married friend, our hairy husbands and think about asking Kim to hop on the swing so I can push her.  I laugh to myself and think maybe I'm not pretending anymore.  

Request Denied

I am on Facebook.  Surprise.  The idea of rejecting or denying a friend request is an old topic but I'm going to revisit this one more time.  Yesterday my cousin Nicole requested to be my friend.  I see she has not yet set any of her privacy settings and there is her birthday in black and white.  Month / Day / 1991.  Last I checked we celebrated her 12th birthday last month.   She seems like a smart kid, I wonder why her math is so terribly off. 

My sister and I exchange texts as we find this to be an awkward dilemma.  She's not some crazy ex, annoying old friend or grade school buddy.  She is our FIRST COUSIN.  Sister and I agree to hold off and see what Nicole's sister and the rest of our cousins do, all of whom are in their late 20's, early 30's.  Well look at that.  They all accepted.  

Leave it to sister and I to stir the pot and deny the request.  It's not that we're posting sex tapes or pictures of us doing naked shots off each other.  Our posts aren't explicit with all this fucking random fuckity fuck fuck written all over it.  But some things between family and social life need to be kept separate especially when it comes to a 12 year old girl.  Sorry Nicole, love you but you're request has been denied.

Pinky Swear

The other day I was telling my husband about how I haven't talked to one of my friends in a while.  We have been emailing back and forth and playing phone tag.  A common friend and I met up for drinks the other night and she asked if I had spoken with "Rose".  I told her it's been a while and she told me I should give her a call but not to mention it to Rose. My husband did not get this.  I told him that it's possible Rose told  common friend X not to say anything as in, "swear you won't say anything".   Matt laughs again and says, "See that's the difference between men and women".  I guess so. 

When was the last time you heard a straight man say, "Swear you won't say anything?".  How girly and gay is that statement?  I said so what would a guy say?  "Let's keep this between you and I".  Gosh, how mature of you.  That sounds so....classy.

So what is it about girls and girly talk?  "Swear you won't say anything" can be heard across playgrounds, restaurants and nursing homes across the country.  Ok, I made up the last part.  But you get what I'm saying. 

Males in general are much more direct.  Females are dramatic by nature.  Let's break it down.   By definition to swear is "to make a solemn declaration or affirmation by some sacred being or object as a deity or the Bible."  Seriously, why are women so dramatic?.  Yet, I love every bit of it.  As classy and manly as "Let's keep this between you and I" sounds I still love the drama and the pinky swears and the "WOOOOO" coo-ing (as in declared by Barney Stinson). 

Girls night out?  "WOOOOOO!" 

Jenn's got a new maaan!!!! "WOOOOOOOO!" 

Friday night? "WOOOOO!"

You guys are like my bestest friends in the entire world! "WOOOOOO!" 

To all my girly girls in the house.  Let's not change a thing.  Pinky swear?       

Business Trip

Tonight I met Vanessa at my local dive bar.  She's a pretty girl I notice sitting at the front right by the video poker game at the door as soon as I walked in.  A few minutes later a guy sat next to her. 

Halfway through Vanessa's smoke I join her outside.  Robert, the local drunk, was already outside taking a picture of solo girl with the Space Needle as the back drop.  I asked her where she was from.  Texas she said.  The time was 10 PM and she was there since noon.  She was in town with her boyfriend who is here on business.  "He's from California and I'm from Texas."  Flag 1.  I was rather impressed by how sober she was considering the time she had put in.  I asked if she had taken a midday break from Bar X and indeed she did to meet the boy for lunch before he headed back for a meeting. 

She proceeds to tell me they're staying at the Holiday Inn and no one can know she is there. Flag 2.  Wow.  Really?  Do people notice flags anymore or am I the only one?  It's one thing if your man's on business, but for no one to know?  If he is here for work, cool that his girl decides to join just as long as she is not hindering any business.  Why would anyone give a rat's ass if he has company for dinner?  UNLESS....  Girl, your man is married.  I hate to break it to you but all his associates know this which is the only reason no one can know you are here.  

So many, too many men pull this shit and it makes me sick to my stomach.  Now my previous post speaks of an A-hole that totally acted one way in front of his wife and another when she wasn't looking.  Am I drawing my own conclusions?  Maybe.  But I can't think of a single reason why a man away on business would hide the fact that he has company on his business trip.  Mind my business?  Ok.  But spectulate?  Eff yeah.   

Traffic and Weddings and Assholes

I've been gone for a long Memorial Day weekend and already feel out of the loop on PNN!  I went to a friend's wedding which would have been about a 3 hour commute on a normal day that turned into an 8 hour commute, 16 hours round trip - but that's neither here nor there.

Friday night was the rehearsal dinner.  My friend Kim and I went sans husbands who were to meet us the next day.  There we met "Kay" and "Bob".  Kay has known the bride for 17 years and has been to every one of her weddings.  We talked about many things among them was what a terrible husband the bride's ex was and how everyone should be so lucky to be with a man like Bob.  Kay points out that her husband adores her and still makes her feel like a princess despite the fact that they've been together for so long and she has even put on a lot of weight.  In that split second I think to myself, "Wow, what a lucky woman" and "Wow I wonder what he's really like when she's not looking".  I was about to find out.

About 3 hours and several bottles of wine into the night Bob picks up my camera and offers to take a picture of Kim and I.  He chuckles and gives it back to me.  Apparently he thinks it's hysterical that he's zoomed in to take a picture of Kim's chest.  Yuk, yuk.

Five hours into the night.  Kay and 90% of the party has gone back to their rooms to retire.  Bride to be, Kim and I and a handful of guys plus one new female friend head out to the local pub.  Wouldn't you know Bob couldn't keep his hands off any of the females INCLUDING the bride to be.  I even have a picture of him grabbing her breast in one picture as evidence. 

For obvious reasons this bothers me on numerous levels.  I like Kay.  Kay is either in denial that her husband is not man she makes him out to be OR in fact really believes that he is.  How many women out there live with this overgrown frat boy?  Do all men get like this?  Maybe it was the wine and beer combo.  Maybe all guys are jerks.  Or maybe Bob's just an ass.  For all women and for the sake of keeping faith alive, I hope it's the latter.

Promiscuous Girl

Years ago I worked with a girl who would later become a very close friend, I'll call her Jenn.  When Jenn 1st joined our company she was about 300 lbs in a 5'3" frame.  She's the kind of girl that when spoken of people always said, "She has such a pretty face".  Jenn had a magnetic personality and drew people in with her wit and her charm.  Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, she didn't have much success with men.  One time she showed me an email she sent a boy she knew from high school and recently reunited with at a party.  She sensed that they had some sort of chemistry so she took a chance and rolled the dice with a pretty direct email.  She never heard from him again.

About a year and a half into our friendship, she told me that she decided to have gastric bypass surgery.  As some of you may know it is a serious procedure that only morbidly obese candidates should consider.  Jenn qualified. 

In a years time I watched my friend shed half her body weight.  She looked and felt amazing.  She started to get attention from guys that would have never given her the time of day.  By her 2.5 year surgery anniversary she treated herself to breast implants and a tummy tuck.  Jenn's transformation was complete and she was stunning. 

In the months that followed she noticed that her hands and feet were getting numb.  Then her vision started to blur.  For a while doctors attributed it to a vitamin D deficiency due to her mutilated and redirected intestinal procedure.  Many doctor visits and misdiagnoses later she was told that she has Multiple Sclerosis.  Everyone was floored.

Jenn never sulked or withdrew.  I think she repressed it because she did the opposite.  What seemed to emerge overnight was the most promiscuous girl I've ever come to know.  She slept with every boy or man whether he was single, engaged or married.  If it rose to the occasion she would fuck it. 

Typically I don't agree with promiscuity.  I don't necessarily think that sex should be saved for marriage either.  And yes, I do understand that sometimes sex is just sex.  But I wonder what I would have done in her situation.  She was dealt a hand that no one should ever be dealt and I think she's playing the best she can with what she's got.  How would you play?

"Sorry...Joe he ain't feelin so good"

Yesterday I celebrated my birthday and I LOVE me some good party.  I don't act my age nor do I care to and big ups to my friends that came out.  I have a tendency to wear my friends out in terms of drinking and partying and I'm still ok with that because I still boogie my ass off like any 23 year old with a firm ass and tight waist.  Eh I'm drunk because it's actually my birthday now and true to baller style it's my birthday weekend mo-fos and I AM DRUUUNK as in like riiight now and I happen to have some some deep thoughts when I'm wasted.  Go figure. 

Ah - so back to my story...  I've got friends from all different lifestyles and ages at this point in my life.  So today I get a text from a good friend of mine that came out with her hubby last night.  Now my friend is my age but got married about 10 years earlier than I did.  She has a house and her and her hubby are granola even by Washington state standards.  They grow their own shit and had a compost bin before green was the new black.  Anyhoo, I drag them out to a lounge which to me was a bar with music and a place to sit if need be but generally after hours where people danced their little bootie shakers off.  They called me out at one point in time and said, "yeah you took us to a club" and gave me a look like I just injected them with HIV.  My bad.  I didn't really think it was a club as much as it was a lounge with music and people dancing.  Kisses?

Oh yeah...story....so I get a text today from "granola" apologizing for her and husband leaving early - they so peaced out while no one was looking - and she says they had to leave because, "Joe wasn't feeling well."  It's all good people.  I've heard this excuse M A N Y A T I M E S.  No need to lie people.  If you're not feeling the scene, I ain't gonna hate you for it!  It's happened before and I'll still love ya.

Ok, another story, we're supposed to meet up for drinks at 7.  I get a text from friend X at 6:30. "So sorry, we can't make it tonight, Mo's belly's been bothering him all night so we're gonna stay in."  DUDE.  It's ALL good.  If you can't hang tonight because you don't feel like it, just say, "We're gonna skip tonight and we'll see you next time."  I won't think any less of you, I won't make fun of you. No doctor's note required.   What I will do is respect you for telling me that you're just not up for it.  And you know what?  That's cool.  I'll have a shot for you.  Ok....so maybe I'll call you a pussy on the side.  But it's all in jest and I'll still love you.  Smooches bitch!  (shout out to the original profanity B - fromthehipchick -  for all the profanity and lost audience). BUT IT IS MY BIRFDAY BITCHES!!!!

9 Yr Old With a Void

Today is Thursday, the day I volunteer at the Treehouse.  Some of you know about this from an earlier post (Good Day).  For those of you that don't, it's a profit free organization that helps foster children and the families that take them in.  I volunteer at the Warehouse which is set like a department store full of children's clothing and toys, only all the merchandise is free of charge.

Today I bagged up some goods for a middle aged woman with a warm smile.  She was a bit overweight, had rosey cheeks and was the kind of person that automatically made you feel at ease.  I said, "Are you sure this is all you want?  You know you can get more stuff for her."  She told me that it was for her granddaughter and her she was "a big girl".  She said, "You know what my baby said to me?  She said she eats so much because she doesn't know her daddy.  So my other daughter, her aunt says to her, you know my baby doesn't know her daddy either and she's not overweight.  And she says, Yeah but her daddy's not dead".  In awe I asked how old she was.  She is 9.

We continue to chat for as long as it takes to bag 3 items.  I tell her it's amazing how perceptive she is and she agrees.  When she leaves, the thought doesn't. 

I think about it some more and the more I think about it I conclude that either this woman I've pegged as "warm" is either lying to me, her grandchild is regurgitating what people are telling her or she is repeating what she's overheard.  I don't want to discredit this child, but the better part of me tells me there is no way in hell that a 9 year old child would assess her overweight state and come to the conclusion that she is filling a void.  If that were the case I think we'd all be good.  Maybe I am wrong.  Maybe kids these days are living in a world so different from the one I grew up in that 9 year olds are old souls, but I hope I am wrong.

Michelle Has Requested You as a Friend

I've written about Facebook before and today I was reminded again of why I'm on it.  Yes, I'm on it to stay in touch with friends I physically moved away from and yes, I'm on it to reconnect with friends with whom I've lost touch with for reasons good or bad.  Lastly I'm on it for idle fun.

Today I logged on for all intent and purposes what was supposed to be a quick 5 minutes.  That's when an old friend who I've recently reconnected with IM'd me. 

Michelle and I had a unique and close bond that lasted about 5 years.  For those 5 years we were either on the phone together or together in an era before cell phones and email.  This was the era of our prime and ultimate youth.  We were right out of college and experimenting with relationships.  We were still invincible and indestructible.   

I usually spent the night over her place, actually her parents' place, rather than mine.  Her parents were quite lenient to a fault and mine were the total opposite.  I could define her household with this one morning.  We woke up in the usual cloud of cigarette smoke.  She lived with her 2 brothers, mother, father, 2 dogs and 3 cats.  Her parents were chain smokers and Michelle and her brother vied for a close second.  We went downstairs for some coffee and maybe food when one of the cats dragged a used condom into the kitchen.  Her mom said, "Well, WELL! SOMEONE got lucky last night".  Michelle had the cool house.

Sleepovers, hanging at the Smiths, the mall, Pt. Pleasant and Wildwood were some of my fond memories.  I watched her fall in love with Shawn who was madly in love with her.  I'll never forget the time she caught him in the shower with socks on.  She flipped but I can't blame the guy.

She watched me endure emotional abuse from a relationship I refused to let go of.  She watched me attempt other relationships only to watch me go back to the loser who would cry until I gave in.

Like any good friend she told me one day that she had had enough.  She was done watching me cry.  I was pissed that she didn't support me.  Isn't that what friends did?

That was over 10 years ago.  Then she found me on Facebook.  She's married to Shawn.  Thankfully I am not married to the boy that made me cry so much. 

Today between Whole Foods and QFC she IM'd me.  We chatted about random stuff but then she said she didn't remember why she was so angry with me.  She apologized for not thanking me for the flowers I had sent on her birthday that one time.  I didn't tell her that I don't remember. 

Michelle's friendship was one that I always held dear to my heart.  When she found me I was reluctant to accept because I wanted to keep the fond memories that I had.  I didn't want to further tarnish whatever damage we had done.  But I accepted.  Even though the words were on screen, they were from the heart and I think we are starting to heal from the damage we had done.  

Dead

Have you ever thought of when or how you would die?  I have and by no medical means to date, I've come to the conclusion that my demise will either be cancer or a car accident. 

Have you ever thought of what it would feel like to be dead?  I think feeling dead would feel a lot like sleeping.  Long ago when my parents paid lots of money for me to attend catholic school I imagined I would go to heaven if I was good.  Years passed and I decided I was not going to heaven until I repented for all the evil I've done as much as a 12 year old's evil little soul could do.  Wherever evil that was, I did it.  Staying up past bed time? Check.  Lying to mom and dad? Check. Wishing your parents were cooler?  Check.  Hell in a hand basket for sure.

So last night I closed my eyes next to my husband and left this world.  There were no dreams that I recalled, I just left.  I died.  If in fact my soul floats around and bounces about my fleshy body everyday, where does she go?  Does she sleep with me?  Is she dictating my dreams?  Or...is she my soul that hangs out with me?  Does she get drunk with me?  Does she go to bed with me?  Does she sleep with me??  "Hello soul.  It's sleepy time." 

I don't think so.  I think I die every night. 

I think you die every night. 

When it's our time I think our eyes will close, forced by trauma or not.  We will go to sleep and dream of things that are comforting. Or not.  But it's ok because if tonight's dream is unsettling, tomorrow's probably won't be. 

But if you sleep tonight, you died for a little bit.  Scary?  Fuck yeah.  But really, it's not.  Sleeping is pretty kick ass and I think one day that will start off just like any other, we'll close our eyes and sleep forever. 

PMS

PMS sucks.  Last night I wrote up a little thing called "Insecurity" and realized I get all like this at this time.  According to my little pill pack I am due for a visit in 3 days.  Until then I will think about all that sucks and it will be magnified ten fold.  I'm pissed that my tan is fading.  I'm upset that the sun only makes and appearance after 5 PM.  I feel fat.  If I see another 'oh you went to Jared' commercial, especially the one with that nagging GPS, I will throw the remote at television.  If I order a cheeseburger without onions and onions are on my bun I will tear up in frustration then scream at the BK boy for eff-ing up my order.  When the novocaine from this morning's dental work wears off I will likely ignore all calls and blog about how much this sucks. 

Yes indeed PMS is no fun.  I don't usually hate life or stupid people this much, but until Aunt Flo comes a knockin on my door the silver lining around that cloud isn't silver people.  It's just more grey.

Insecurity

So here I am, a few weeks away from my 30 something birthday and thinking about where I thought I would be.  Although the question is relative I'm talking about where I thought I would be about 5 years ago.  "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" is a typical interview question.  It's also a question I think many of us ask ourselves.  I'll tell you what.  I didn't think I'd be here.

As some of you know, I was recently laid off.  Although at this point 6 months isn't recent anymore.  What some of you may not know is that I found out I was laid off the very day I went back to work after taking time off to get married.

At this point in my life I thought I'd be happily married with a house, a dog and and secure job.  I guess 2 out of 4 ain't bad.  Or you'd think.

I grew up in a typical Asian household where a lot of weight of who you were was in your profession.  I used to be gainfully employed and made a pretty decent salary in corporate retail merchandising.  When I was laid off I wasn't too surprised as my company was on a steady decline for quite some time.  Luckily my husband had a secure job and was even promoted shortly after I was laid off.  The timing couldn't have been better.  Although I was happy for him there was a tinge of jealousy that I so wish I didn't have.  He has always excelled in school, sports and work.  He effortlessly has what I always wanted. 

I don't think he realizes how lucky he his.  I don't think I'm an idiot by any means but I had to seriously study to get by in school.  For years I worked my ass off at work only for a thankless response.  My husband is a hard worker and has reached levels of management in his career that I will never see.  He's a member of Mensa and thinks it's a hoot.  What I would give for that stupid card.

Yes, I'm lucky to be with such a man.  He's handsome, brilliant and successful.  And the crazy thing is, he chose to marry me. 

There was a time when I would rate myself a little higher on the scale.  But when who you are is defined by what you do, it sort of does something to your soul.  It's hard to keep perspective on what really counts when things aren't going the way you expected.  I want what he has.  Hopefully I really have what he wants.  And hopefully one day I will have all of what I really want.  

From Cabo, With Love

It was Saturday, April 26 and day 2 of our vacation in Cabo, Mexico.  That's when I first heard the words "swine flu".  For the duration of our stay we kept the channel on the only American network station available and heard continual coverage about the swine flu and our failing economy.  

Originating in Mexico, the swine flu seemed to be a bigger deal in the US than in Cabo.  Bartenders kept mixing up pina coladas and pouring tequila.  The servers asked if we wanted our beans black or baked. Our cab drivers picked us up and dropped up off at our destinations mask free.  None of the locals ever mentioned the swine flu.

A week later the media had sufficient time to drive the fear of the flu well into America's head.  Upon arrival in the states we were greeted by an army of medical masked warriors.  We felt like diseased freaks as people gawked at us with fear. 

Matt received a message from work.  "Due to the heightened sensitivity of the swine flu in our area, we request that you please work from home this week." 

We came back from Mexico at the height of the media circus.  Everyday people jokingly ask us to, "stay away from them" or ask us if we have "the flu".  They ask us if we feel sick.  Crazy with the timing they say.  But I wish I could get back on a plane and fly back into that virus ridden country.  I'd order a shot of tequila and shoot the shit with the bartender and we'd talk about everything but the flu.

Still Got It

Just back from a week's vacation at a beautiful resort, my husband and I met a cast of characters that made our trip all the more memorable and entertaining.  More than likely we will never cross paths with these individuals again but I can honestly say I'm happy we did.

Night 1 - Fresh to the scene and taking it all in, we went to the indoor resort bar after dinner.  That's when we met Kolten.  He's from Canada celebrating his best buddy's birthday with his buddy's girlfriend and sister along with 2 other guy friends.  Six total the others were napping back in the rooms. Kotlen leaves and 2 hours later emerges with the other 5 in tow. 

Introductions - We meet Dave. Dave has an awesome head of hair, is always smiling and sweet as pie.  There is Dustin.  Dustin also has amazing hair, plays hockey and is there celebrating his upcoming birthday.  Heather is a tiny, attractive girl totally done up and has the lightest platinum blond hair I've ever seen in perfect ringlets.  She is Dustin's girl.  Dana, equally done up hair and flawless makeup is bday boy's sister and the momma hen of the group.  Brittney, Dana's best friend and the sole brunette of the girls is also flawless in tresses and face.  She likes glitter and things that sparkle.  Guys and girls, from Canada are all incredibly attractive.  I feel sloppy.  Surely I cannot spend my precious time with those that look like they came straight out of some VH1 "reality" show. 

It's close to midnight and we decide to check out the beach party which is the featured event of the night.  Music is kicking and everyone is all hands up and booties shaking.  The girls know the words to all the songs.  It's quite amazing.  We get up on the table and dance.

Hours pass, at this point we've decided we're like all totally BFF's.  We're invited to Dustin's birthday pub crawl on Tuesday.  They're fired up.  He's turning 20.  Wait.  What?!  The needle scratches off the record and a simultaneous, "YOUR'RE TURNING 20?!" comes out of me and my hubby's mouths.  WTF.  They don't see the humor that Matt and I do because we think it's hysterical.  But we're proud.  We still got it.