What Did You Say?

Have you ever had one of those conversations where you are asked a question and, normally, you would ponder your response, put the words into their correct order and tense, then line them up and send them off to the filter before allowing them to exit the mouth into the general hearing of all?  I have, shamefully, been part of these conversations over the last several days where the all systems have failed!

For example, I left my desk to toddle off to use the loo.  As I passed the desk of one of my coworkers, he asked where I was going.  I shot him “that look” which I had hoped would give his mind the message that it was time for him to shut his mouth.  Yet…..here it was.

Him: “Where are YOU going?”

Me: “To the loo if you MUST know?”

Him: “Why are you going to the loo?”

(By this point, I was COMPLETELY embarrassed due to other coworkers began looking up from their work to stare at this interchange)

Me: “IF you MUST know, Mister Magoo…..I’m going to the loo to think of you whilst I poo.”

While that ended our exchange, I did feel rather bothered by having to explain such an event.

 

Later, Logan phoned me at work:

Logan: “Hey Tim, what are you doing?”

Me: “I’m talking to a jackass on the other end of this line asking idiot questions. And you?”

Logan: “Being the jackass phoning to remind you that you have a wax appointment after work.”

Me: “What gave you that impression?”

Logan: “Well, when you walked past me this morning, your gorilla legs were quite evident….”

Me: (cutting him off angrily) “WHAT? How DARE you!”

Logan: (continuing completely nonplussed) “And the shoppe called to remind you because they couldn’t raise you on your cell.”

Me: (realizing that I had left my phone in the loo where I had been earlier) “oh, thank you”

 

We seem to have a penchant for asking idiot questions and then getting offended when we get sarcastic answers.  I told Logan I was heading to the shops.  He asked what I was going for, so I told him, truthfully, I needed a new bra.  To which his response, without even looking at me, was “what you going to put in it?”.

I apparently suck at conversing!

 

 

Whilst Sitting In The Park, I Discovered True Love

I was sitting in the park after work yesterday, reading a book and enjoying the weather, when an older couple came toddling up.  They were so adorable.  They were holding hands and giggling together.  He asked if they could share the bench with me and I said, “Absolutely” figuring they wanted to rest for a bit then toddle on.  He took out his kerchief and dusted off the bench for her to sit down.  What a gentleman!

Honestly, watching this couple (out of the corner of my eye so as not to appear creepy or stalkery) was like watching to grey haired, wrinkly teenagers in love.  No, they didn’t grope each other or me.  As they sat there, I just couldn’t help myself, I had to ask “How long have you been married?”  She looked at me with a huge smile and said, “We married the day he got home from the Army in 1946!”

They looked at each other in a way I had always dreamed someone would look at me. They held hands like I’ve always wanted someone to hold my hand.  They laughed and enjoyed being together and, I openly admit, I was so jealous of them!  My heart hurt so much because they knew what love is and I selfishly wanted what they have.  I pulled out a tissue and wiped the tear from my eye hoping they would just chalk it up to allergies but they were not fooled.  She said, “Honey, what’s the matter?”

To say that I was overwhelmed would be the understatement of my life.  I found out her name was Ollie and his name was Ernest and that they walk the park about twice a week so they can share a pretzel and drink.  Ernest likes beer with his pretzels but Ollie said beer makes him have to pee too much.  Ollie likes a fizzy with her pretzel and Ernest giggled and said he loved it because it makes her burp.  Then told me that once, she drank the fizzy too fast and burped her dentures out.  And here I am, getting more and more jealous.  Ernest told me that they had been childhood sweethearts and his heart had never wavered.  Ollie said he used to trade a bucket of milk for a stick of chewing gum when they were kids and they would take turns chewing it.

This encounter was really beginning to break my heart, and I blurted out, “What IS love REALLY?”  They both smiled (with a couple of missing teeth) and told me that true love is a decision, it’s not a “feeling” because feelings can change quickly but a decision is binding.  I asked if they ever argued, and Ollie said, “Honey, we’ve fought like dogs over the last bone.  But….(she winked)…we always made up!”  Ernest smiled really big and said “And the make-up sex….ah…..was so amazing!”  Well, I’m not a huge fan of sex currently, but I couldn’t help but feel my jealousy grow.

I asked what’s the secret of their love lasting so long.  They looked at each other and then Ollie took my hand in her warm gnarled hand and said, “We only get one turn at life.  We understand that we are in this one and only life together.  We know that, not matter what happens, we will always be there for each other.  We accept each other unconditionally.  We don’t waste time on trivial things.  We make sure to SHOW, not say, “I Love You” every single day. We are part of each other and will always be part of each other.”

She patted my hand  as tears gushed from my eyes.  He handed me a tissue from his pocket so I could wipe the snot that was bubbling from my nose.  Ollie said, “Sweetie, you can’t go looking for love, you have to BE love.  Only then will your other half find you.”  She hugged me and kissed my cheek as she got up.  He got up and kissed my hand, and they toddled off toward the pretzel vendor.

I went home, locked myself in my room and just cried into my pillow.  My clothes smell like liniment, and my heart is so full it’s feels like it’s breaking.

Is true love really REAL?

Don’t Look So Shocked, I’m Just Thinking

I’m truly uncertain where to begin.  Lots of things dinging about inside my cranium, some of them, perhaps, worth further thought.

Logan was all giddy last night about the Screen Actors Guild Awards.  He sounded more like a little girl than a 26 year old man, with his giggling and “oohing” and “ahhing” over who wore what, how much it cost, how they arrived, blah blah blah.  I don’t like such progs, so I did my own thing in my room with my popcorn.

I mentioned it to a coworker this morning and got royally trounced!  “Do you KNOW how many gazillions of cash is spent on such affairs?  The facilities, all the fancy autos, sparkly gowns, tuxes, pampering, and not to mention all the hair “product” just for a bunch of spoiled, overpaid, entertainers who want to “boo hoo” about the predicament of the poor but aren’t giving up their lifestyles to help. NO, they just expect their opinions and status to sway the ignorant buffoon masses to pay for everyone else INCLUDING their smug lives.  Think about this, these are “ACTORS” giving “awards” to “ACTORS” and taking the opportunity to spew their own political agenda worse than any politician.”  I was more than a little taken aback, because all I said was my brother seemed to get a kick out of watching the show.  WOW!  People are SO touchy and don’t really seem to have any interest in working together to get along.

Okay…..next thought: What is is about women’s breasts that is SO fascinating to men?  I mean they are simply part of the female anatomy yet women who have hooters, tits, mams, sweater melons, gazongas, floating funbags, muffins, call them what you will, are used to sell products and/or services.  These women seem to thrive and use the fact men are hypnotized by these “toys for tots”.  What is it about them that are so fascinating to men and make them go all stupid?  And heaven forbid if a nipple is apparent or visible!

Don’t be stunned.  Please sit down for this one.  I went to church yesterday for the first time for actual services.  Was NOT what I expected!  It wasn’t Sister Thomasina’s church either.  It was a little unassuming place.  The people were so nice and friendly and accepting.  The pastor was interesting and even funny and made me think.  And, yes, I checked them out…they are NOT on the list of cults.  Our courtyard neighbor invited me when she saw me in the garden with my coffee.  I’ve read and heard a lot about churches, but have never been and I am open to trying new things.

I will say, I was embarrassed, during the opening prayer not because I didn’t know what was happening, but I had an itch on my elbow and pulled my sleeve up to scratch it and the person sitting next to me saw the scars from my cutting.  I was so ashamed that I wanted to run out, but decided THAT would create more of a stir than just pulling my sleeve back down and being as unobtrusive as possible.  After the service, the person who sat next to me made it a point to come tell me not to be embarrassed because we all have our struggles.  I liked that.  Made me feel a little less like a complete psycho-loser.  Then she said she’d like for us to have dinner sometime because she would like to get to know me better. I thought that was rather pushy, then I wondered how she would react if I told her my WHOLE story.  I ended up thanking her and telling her perhaps another time as this was my first time.

Cooking Class……I HATE COOKING!  I prepared the cake as per the instructions….EXACTLY per the instructions….and the cake was crunchy on the outside and slimy gooey on the inside.  I tried to bake a chicken pasty and somehow the pasty was perfect but the inside was quite crunchy too.  I GIVE UP!!!  I was not cut out to be a chef!

Therapist Update:  We seem to have FINALLY found a med that works for anxiety more times than not.  And another one that seems to help me with depression more times than not.  Therapist said depression CAN BE cyclical and the meds that would stop the cycle would make me more like a zombie than a human, so I opted to work through the cycles.  Logan said the meds have made me a bit of a chatterbox and then the crash at bedtime he finds hysterical.  He said he heard me in the shower when he had gotten home after my bedtime so he knocked on my door to see if I was okay (and make sure I wasn’t cutting) and he said I was sound asleep in the shower leaning up against the door.  So I’m guessing I need to pay more attention to timing so I don’t turn into a pumpkin whilst perched on a park bench or in a shoppe.

I’ve blathered on for now.

Confused I Am

I have never understood politics and don’t claim to understand it now.  I’m not a politician, but I am a human female.  And I am confused!

There was an election in the “United” States and because the winner of the election is not a politician and wants to make changes, there are lots of marches, burning, looting, destruction, defiance because the “liberals” don’t agree with the proposed changes?

I have listened to people shouting how they want Free This and Free That and Save This and Save That, as well as, Let’s not have borders rather let everyone come freely in and suckle at the taxpayer teat.  There’s so much complaining going on that I am confused.

It’s as if everyone wants to steer the boat, but no one wants to help set the sails.  What the hell is wrong with the “Offended” States of America?  Every time I hear anything calling itself “news” about the U.S. it’s because some group or another is offended and needs to go to radical extremes to make their offendedness be known.

Is this how Mohandis Gandhi changed India?  Is this how Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. changed civil rights?  By looting, attacking, destroying? 

WOW!  You’d think adults would be able to sit down together, have a drink, and seek to fix the issues rather than create more or exacerbate the ones already present.  I thought MY life had been horrible, but these people who have this need to protest everything all the time must have absolute horrific existences.

I just don’t get it.  And honestly, don’t want to.

Prank Update & Continued

This weekend past was challenging for both Logan and I.  It all began Friday morning when I had poured some blonde hair colouring in Logans shampoo, as he is VERY particular about his hair.  The shrieking from his lav when he saw his blonde top was hysterical!  Thank goodness I had locked my door because he came racing down the hall and ran face first into my solid oak door, which created more for his coworkers to view upon his arrival.  I’ll admit it, I checked on him and helped him with his bloody nose after I had laughed so hard that my ribs and stomach hurt.

That’s not to say I got away with it.  On Saturday, I got up late and was going to go to the pub with some of my coworkers so we could share our stories about the red-headed googly eyed guy from across the alleyway.  I jumped in the shower, grabbed my bodywash and started cleansing, only to discover the water was just beading up and rolling off me.  Logan had put petroleum jelly in my body wash, the little bastard!  Five scrubs later with regular soap and I still feel icky!

Then the little shyte went to the coffee truck I always patronize, because it’s right outside my workplace, and told the 18 year old counter person that I was in love with him AND that he made me horny.  When I showed up this morning, sure enough coffee guy is making puppy eyes at me and staring at, well, it wasn’t my eyes.  He asked me, in a shaky teenager voice, if I would go out with him.  I was confused as to where this was coming from, I had only been polite and courteous but nothing more.  That is, until I caught a glimpse of Logan hiding behind a shrubbery.  Then I knew!  So I smiled coyly, ran my finger along the neckline of my shirt, pulling down to where he could ALMOST see my boobless chest, and said “Come out of that van and I want you to take me right here in the park. I’ll ride you like a cowboy at a rodeo.” And then I winked.  Poor boy, his eyes went wide and by the time I got to “rodeo” he blushed and excused himself.  I ran over and smacked Logan on the back of his blonde head for ruining the coffee boy.

So now, it’s my turn.  What to do, what to do?

And The Pranks We Play

Logan and I are brother and sister.  We live together.  He is my rescuer and my hero.  He is also the target of my mischief most of the time.  And I am the target of his mischief.

It all began when he first moved me in with him.  I have my own room and my own lav.  However, when I’m in the shower, Logan would wait until I started singing (which drives him nuts) and he would flush his toilet. Suddenly, mid-song, all the cold water would disappear and I would get a bit of a scalding.  He claimed my scream was much more pleasant than my singing.  Little bastard.

So, whilst HE slept, I stealthily crept in with my ninja-like skills, and sewed all of his boxers together in one long chain.  Oh my word, such profanity I heard the following morning would have melted granite!  Ah…..sweet revenge.

Logan know that I like my tea.  Do not fuck with my tea!  Every morning whilst my tea is steeping, I get dressed then pour the tea into my thermos and off to work I go.  Well, Dr. Sneakydrawers waited until I had just put my tea on to steep and put a jalapeno in to steep with the tea and when he heard me coming up the hall, snatched it out and ate it.  Imagine my surprise when I went to the rooftop for lunch, wave at my redheaded, bespectacled, across-the-alley gawker, and pour my tea.  I thought it tasted a bit off, but halfway through my cup I was racing around the roof trying to find the water spigot.  I finally found one with no hose so I was practically standing on my head sucking down as much water as I could and giving my gawker the best view of my panda pantied ass he’s ever had.

Again, I relied on my wicked ninja skills, and while he slept, I painted his fingernails Bubblegum Pink and reset his alarm so he would have 15 minutes less time to get ready to catch the train.  Logan is not exactly a morning person, meaning he’s not fully paying attention until he gets his coffee. Thus, when his alarm went off 15 minutes late, he had to dash.  He didn’t notice his nails until he was on the train and someone told him how pretty they were.  I did not realize that he had a presentation to make at work that morning, so he had to scramble to get to the pharm to get some fingernail polish remover.  But not before his co-workers got a good giggle out of it.

Last night, he replaced my body lotion with mayonnaise.  So when I got my shower and applied my “lotion” it was fucking disgusting!  It took another two hot showers to get that nastiness off!  And I’m still smelling it while I’m at work today!

What to do? What to do?

Freedom!

I hear people talking quite a bit about how they are downtrodden and they will never be able to enjoy the privilege of some other group, and in my mind I am screaming “IF YOU HAD LIVED MY LIFE FOR 22 YEARS YOU WOULD LOVE WHERE YOU ARE NOW!” But I keep quiet because no one would listen.

When did we become such spoiled little entitled whiny bitches?  If you want your station in life to improve then improve it!  We are so quick to spout off excuse after excuse after excuse as to why we can’t.  And I will openly admit, I spent years making excuses why I couldn’t leave the Grunge, so I just endured his torture and torment.  When I was FINALLY convinced that I had the power to improve my station in life, I got out and am working toward making my life better.  No, I may never have an expensive car, expensive clothes, expensive place to live, but I will have what I need.

Freedom, to me, means living without making excuses.  If I fuck up, admit it, take the consequences, and move on.  If I want something, I save my money to get it or learn to make it myself (btw, you do NOT want me to invite you to dinner.  My cooking SUCKS!).

I am of Asian/Hispanic/Questionable heritage.  I don’t look at skin color or accent or hair color, or body type.  I don’t really care what the outside looks like.  Are you a good and gentle person?  Are you kind?  Are you caring?  Do we have common interests?  Do we enjoy each others’ company? And trust me, I can pick up on the stench of bullshit!

We spend so much time complaining and whining and moaning and groaning, instead of caring and making a difference that we have lost focus of the freedom of life!

I actually bought a bra on Saturday, much to my surprise, they had one for the flat of chest.  I wore it Sunday and half of Monday.  It felt like I was wearing a bullet proof vest, so during lunch break, I went to the roof as I normally do, and sure enough the googly eyed red haired guy was across the alley working on his computer.  We have developed a rather “long distance” relationship, when I come up for lunch, he looks at me through his window, smiles and waves.  When I stood on the ledge and took off my bra and let it fall into the alley, I think his imagination must have had a meltdown.  His face hit the window hard enough for his glasses to break.  But I felt free!

Free from confinement.  Free to just be!

 

I Think I Thunk

I’ve been doing a LOT of thinking and remembering and contemplating and pondering and I think I thunk.  I was talking with my counselor about all I had written (93 entries) about my life with the Grunge.  And toward the end of our session, she stopped and said, “You have so much anger and rage caged up inside you.  What are you going to do with it?”  I told her I wanted my experiences to help others, and she smiled and said, “That wasn’t the question. What are you going to do with all that is eating you up inside?  Are you going to let it destroy you or are you going to let it go so you can LIVE for once.”

Odd question I’ll admit.  But the meds only numb the pain.  The writing brings the pain.  I haven’t grasped the concept of letting go of the pain and anger and rage.  How can I help others if I have this caged pissed off dragon inside?  So I began to think.

I took each memory I had written.  Re-read them one at a time.  Then I put then in the fire in the fireplace.  And as I did that, I told myself that memory is history, it cannot hurt me anymore unless I let it.  It’s time to unlock the cage and release the dragon!

The Path Ain’t Easy

The journey ahead

Is fraught with challenges,

Trials, memories, nightmares,

And difficulties.

This is a road

Which only I can follow

Slowly and painfully

Walking, running,

and sometimes crawling

But this road will be traveled

Even though the destination

Is as yet unknown

I can no longer stay here

I must move forward

I must grow and learn

I must learn to deal, cope,

And I must learn to let go.

Let go….

There is the rub!

The scars are deep

The cuts still bleed.

The pain still sharp.

To let go though

Is to find freedom

Freedom from the anger

Freedom from the hate

Freedom from the past

Even though the scars remain

The scars prove that I survived!

Who Could Love A Such A Screwed Up Girl?

You told me you loved me

You told me I was your princess

You told me that I was beautiful

And then you destroyed me

You took from me the idea of love

Because of you I learned that love is a myth

I learned that love is opening yourself

to excruciating pain and humiliation.

You took from me the desire to want to love anyone

You took from me my desire to love me

You took from me everything

And left me dead inside

So first, I sought to destroy myself

And failed.

Then I just wanted to feel something

So I cut.

Each drop of blood that ran down my arms

Was warm and felt embracing.

That’s what I’ve always needed

Someone to love me with a warm embrace.

Yet you stole all from me

Crushed my hope

And left me hollow!