My biological clock stopped ticking...

I saw this cute movie the other day called TiMer. The premise of the story is that people can go to this electonics company and have a timer implanted on their wrist. The timer will countdown the exact hours, minutes, and seconds until you can expect to meet your soul mate. Only the timer doesn't activate until your souldmate has a timer installed also.

The idea got me thinking, my luck is so awful when it comes to matters of the heart, I'm quite certain if I installed one it would immediately display negative 175,316hours 15 minutes and 18 seconds(20 years)

If you know any decent eligible bachelors, point them my way!

Count your blessings

Yes, well, after all this time, you think I would get it. I've heard this so many times you would think it would be second nature. Yet after I've taken action to correct a wrong done to me I continue to brood over the fact of the initial wrong-doing instead of being satisfied with the ultimate outcome! What's the matter with me?


So tonight I had a conversation with my friend, the psychic. I don't pay for her services, well, just that once, but that was only for fun, mostly. I guess I'm one of those people that doesn't really want to know the future. But I don't play the lotto or read my horoscope of wish to be filthy rich and so on and so on...I digress...

So, we were talking, and as per usual she was asking me how to market her services. Now, I can't help you if you don't really want help. There's nothing more aggravating than someone asking you the same questions, over and over...yet when you say to them, "hey, I told you this last time. Didn't you try it?" and they say no, they didn't try it...what do you do with that?

So during our conversation, she pointed out the same thing she pointed out the last few times we've talked, always unsolicited, that I have this really great energy about me and the only thing preventing me from achieving my goals is my underlying attitude of having been cheated out of something. She called it my "woman scorned, but not just by love" attitude. And I always reply with, "If only you knew."

And I thought to myself, yeah, I've heard this before. And I said as much to her. So my question is this: If knowing you have a problem is half the solution, what the hell is the other half? How do you let that go? How do you release that and move on? Cuz I'll tell you, I've tried, and tried and tried.

As I was pondering this with her, I mentioned that I don't really hold any resentments toward anyone in particular, anymore. I've worked really hard this past year to forgive those who I have held the burden of resentment towards. And while we were having this conversation, I realized, it isn't someone else that I'm bitter with about any of the past grief in my life. It's me.

I realized I am mad at me! I've spent the better part of my adult life feeling duty bound to a bunch of people that never asked me to do that for them. That was my own doing! Nobody forced me to put myself last. There is no written law that says I had to put everyone else first and sacrifice my own satisfaction. As a matter of fact, the very people I felt honor-bound to please and take care of were mostly selfish people that never took my feelings into account in there decisions and actions. So why did I feel the need to do so? It's mostly me that I'm angry with! How could I have flittered away so many years?

Hmmmm, this is going to take some serious meditation and prayer.

How to forgive oneself.

Suggestions appreciated...

The Boss of Me

So, one of the "perks" of my job is that I spend a lot of time networking at events that usually include some of the heavy hitters in our local communities. Particularly, of late, we have had a lot of engagements and office visits with the local sheriff, who is currently running for the first ever County Executive office in our county. He is, without a doubt, one of the most recognizable faces in the area. Regardless of what you think about his policies or his platform, you cannot argue that this man exudes public office.

I've listened to many political and public figures go on about how they were ordained to do what they were doing, even as they were being prosecuted for some awful betrayal of their position, and always I've thought to myself, "How in the world could they have believed that?" But just a few encounters with this sheriff and you know, he was meant to sit behind a mahogany desk and pen his name to policy.

And it doesn't hurt that he's a very good looking man, either. He's got a pearly white smile and a metro feel about him. He's always very well put together. His personality is the frosting that keeps you coming back for more. He seems genuinely concerned and considerate of those he meets. If he is at n event and "the people" want pictures of him, he never tires of it. He smiles, and puts his arm around the squirming, squealing girl, the star-struck woman, the admiring man, no one seems to be out of the demographic that he attracts.

So, tonight, I am tooting around the local festival taking my friend's girls on some rides when we encounter the rock-star himself. He winks at me and inquires as to how I am and reaches his arms around to give me a proper hug, not one of those wimpy photo-opp ones, and squeezes me and plants one on my cheek and turns to the girls and engages them in conversation. I introduce him and tell the girls what and who he is. They seem a little awestruck. (I totally get that!) And eventually he gives me a parting hug, and off we go.

Later, as we are standing in line for a ride, one of the girls turns to me and asks me if I knew him? I asked her if she thought he seemed like the kind of guy that just goes around hugging random people? She turns to me with the most honestly naive face and says, "Well isn't he the Boss of all of You?"

"All of Who?" I inquired.

"All of You grown-ups!" she exclaimed.

I smiled and nodded and assured her that yes, yes he was in fact the Boss of Me!


My lol moment for the day

Happy Anniversary

So, I called Miss Sally this morning and when she answered the phone I chimed "Happy Anniversary!"

"Who's Anniversary is it?" she replied.

"Um," I paused, waiting for her to catch on. "It's June 10th, Grama."

"June 10th," she mused. "Who's Anniversary is June 10th?"

"Um, Grama, it's June 10th, Happy Anniversary." I deadpanned, hoping it would dawn on her so I wouldn't have to say it.

Silence on the other end of the line. "Um, Grama?"

"Oh, Shit!" as the realization struck her. "I'll be damned!" she exclaimed. "You know, I remembered Selena's birthday yesterday and called her to tell her Happy Birthday. I even looked at the calendar and thought to myself, 'What's on June 10th?' But for the love of God, I completely forgot my own anniversary! Well, isn't that something?"

*********************

I guess that's a testament to the adage, "Life goes on" It's been 5 1/2 years since my Papa passed. They would have been married 15 years today. Of course, they had been together nearly 35 years before that. Still, it made me a little sad to think I was the only one that woke up this morning and noted the passing of this significant date.

I can remember the day he proposed to her. I had just acquired a new vehicle that day, a Le Baron that Papa had bought from a friend after it had been in a rear end collision. He and a few of the guys had worked pretty hard on it and got it in pretty good working shape. That day I was taking her out for her maiden cruise when some friends of the family suggested we all take a ride to a local eatery, The Green Lantern, for their renowned pizza.

So, into the Le Baron we crammed. How we all fit, I'll never know. We had pizza and beer and really enjoyed the lovely spring evening and the good company. At some point someone suggested we go to Chi-Chi's cantina for some Margaritas. Back into the Le Baron we went and headed over. We were having a great time, enjoying the music and the sweet tanginess of the tequila and lime saltiness. As was typical, Papa was soaking up the attention with his beer-boozy boisterousness. Atypically, my Grama was actually having a pretty good time, too.

There was a young couple at a near-by table. At some point in the evening we realized that he had proposed to her and she had said yes. Not to be outdone, my Papa, with much pomp and circumstance, loudly proclaimed his undying love for my Grama, and proposed she finally allow him to "make an honest woman of her". Surprisingly, she said yes. Everyone cheered as we ladies quickly sprang into party-planning mode and put the foundation of the wedding plans together. They were married around 6 weeks later, surrounded by friends and family, in my aunt's and uncle's backyard on the afternoon of June 10, 1995.

Happy Anniversary Grama and Papa - and we miss you Papa! Kisses to heaven!

Soooo Tired!

Burning the midnight oil bears a hefty price tag. This has been an hulascious semester. When I get home from work I just want to take a nap and next thing I know, I'm sleeping thru the night. I'm looking forward to resting on Memorial Weekend and hoping that by then I'll have recovered and be ready to roar thru the last 3 weeks of my semester break.

Hopefully by then, I'll have the motivation to write more that a paragraph of piss and moan.

See you then!

School Break

School will be out soon and I CAN'T WAIT! I have 4 mrkt classes left, 3 IT classes left, 3 econ classes left and 6 Engl Comp 2 classes left. After that I'll have 5 weeks before my summer classes start. I am so looking forward to the respite. I think I might take a weekend and go somewhere in the RV. Got any ideas for a 3 day weekend?

Emily Dickinson on the Individual

Most of Emily Dickinson’s poems champion the importance of the individual over that of the group. She seemed to have had an immense disdain for those who blithely followed the conventions of society with little thought of their own. The reclusive life she preferred for herself was greatly reflected in her works. She disagreed with her family’s views of culture and religion leading her toward transcendental reflections of what she thought to be a better way to connect spiritually to the world. Ms. Dickinson’s poems demonstrate an opinion against the ridiculousness of the achievement of recognition and status, she wrote of the need and the right of the individual to maintain its integrity.

In “I’m Nobody, Who Are You?” perhaps one of Ms. Dickinson’s most famous poems, she bemoans the inclination of most people to want recognition. In the first stanza she warns of the dangers of voicing one’s interest in remaining anonymous, cautioning that one will be ridiculed if “they,” meaning the majority, find out. She mocks those who go around constantly boasting of themselves, vainly attempting to keep their names in popular circulation. She quite cleverly compares them to croaking frogs, ever noisily reminding the world of their existences.

Her poem, “Much Madness is Divinest Sense” further demonstrates her perspectives on society’s intent to squash the individual. The speaker intimates that it is always up to the collective to decide what is sane and what isn’t, “Assent and you are sane, Demur you’re straight way dangerous.” And once they decide you are insane, you will be “Handled with a Chain.” The speaker is not implying that the majority is right all the time, but still, as an individual, you cannot be accepted unless you agree with them. The world can sometimes be so brutal to individuals as to subdue them.

In keeping with her theme of the rights of the individual over the group, Ms. Dickinson’s “Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church” can be viewed as a commentary on how a person should live their spiritual life. Here the speaker asks the reader to consider the transcendental ideal that God “transcends” the physical world and should be experiences by the individual through their experiences with the natural world. It mocks the very idea that God can be experienced in a group setting after all.

In “What Soft Cherubic Creatures” Ms. Dickinson reveals the hypocrisy of the group versus the individual. She exemplifies women, who are expected to put on a made-up “face” for society, yet reveals that upon closer inspection, the “freckled human nature” can be seen. The speaker is commenting on the pressure of society to behave a certain way, while hiding one’s true passions, yet another way the collective subdues the individual. In her article “Writing Poetry Like a Woman” Corinne Blackmer discusses how conventional “feminine verse” of Ms. Dickinson’s era usually touched on domestic topics while Ms. Dickinson “wrote poetry that defied all conventional gendered norms” and “ridiculed the pretensions to virtue and self-righteous piety of these “angelic” creatures. Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his essay entitled Self Reliance said, “It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after one's own. But great is the man who in midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.”

In “Alone, I Cannot Be” Ms. Dickinson writes in defense of keeping one’s own company. The speaker is telling the reader of the “recordless company” she keeps in her solitude. One can imagine the countless hours the poet spent alone writing her poems. It can be inferred that Ms. Dickinson was plagued by a constant companionship of voices, either imagined or conjured by her creative endeavors. Either way it would seem she is happier for their company, than for that of their warm-blooded counterparts.

In further examining her continued struggle to champion the rights of the individual, it is imperative to examine Ms. Dickinson as an unpublished poet. Her advisor, mentor, and publisher, Thomas Higginson, continually counseled against the publishing of her poems, citing that her poetry would be misrepresented in print form. Ms. Dickinson’s style of writing so defied the conventional forms as to render it nearly impossible to adequately reveal its original intent. She exemplified her feelings about this in the poem, “Fame is a Bee.” Over the course of her lifetime Dickinson maintained control and ownership in order to write, as Sharon Cameron states, "in public while effectively exempting her writing from public legislation" (Cameron, "Amplified Contexts", 241). Writing in this way, perhaps Dickinson felt she was protecting herself against the sting of the bee.