Pour Some Sugar on Me

It was almost quitting time at her dead-end job.  Most everyone claimed to be on the road to something better, this place was just a short pit stop.  He wasn’t her type. They guy with the long blonde hair in a ponytail and the unexpected brown eyes.  He who would play annoying music when the boss left.  His latest kick was old hair metal.

They all sat there, eating cake, cake that was meant for the customers.  She watched him while he ate. Envious she was, he could eat 2 or 3 pieces of cake and still be skinny. Did he have tattoos under his long sleeves? What was his middle name?  She excused her thoughts as just something to break up the monotony of the night.

She thought he was wide open, everything was on the surface, whether it was annoying or interesting or strange.  She felt quiet around him, but wanted him to see her, the good and the bad.

She barely noticed him at first.  They didn’t always work the same shifts.  Slowly something changed.  Her empty spaces seem to expand. Something needed to happen, anything at all.

How did she make it happen, in a way that wasn’t socially awkward.  She had odd thoughts about letting his hair out of the ponytail, still thinking he wasn’t her type, even though she couldn’t stop thinking of him.

If she revealed herself, there was no turning back.  If she was wrong, she couldn’t come back to work.  Rejection, could she deal with it?

She finished her cake and continued to day dream about him as she went about the last tasks of her shift.

She put the concert ticket in his jacket pocket, with a note that said “See you Saturday night”.  She’d either be a total loser on Saturday or she wouldn’t.

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Panacea

Panacea: a magic bullet, a cure-all.  Many of us are searching for that secret remedy, perhaps to the fountain of youth or instant wealth. If only we could cure just that one problem, how much better our life would be.

I found myself watching some late night infomercials recently. Not able to fall asleep but still in a drowsy haze I was almost entranced.  Hair volumizing products, airbrush makeup, rare and valuable coins and cooking products galore.  Now I just need to make 3 easy payments of $29.99, and my life will be forever changed.

Halloween, under the tag of feminism

I often scroll through the wordpress tag of feminism to see if I find anything interesting. Sometimes the opinions of other women will surprise you.

This post has various thoughts on Halloween.

Costume suggestions suggest emulating accomplished women “be a doctor, not a nurse, it  isn’t like their scrubs or stethoscopes are different”.

I’m nurse.  I just found out I’m not accomplished. Nor am I a quality inspiration for a Halloween costume.  Who knew?

Public Speaking

Public speaking has never been my thing.  I had to do it the other day at work.  It was something I had been dreading for a while.

I’d made the task so overwhelming.  No one else in the room seemed to be so distressed.

Part of it was my fault.  I’d been telling myself for days that I would stay up late or wake up early to get my project done.  Last minute pressure would make my brain work better.  Well those sort of strategies may have worked when I was 20, but not so much now.  Having rushed through preparing the information I was to speak about obviously didn’t help at all.

I can only make it better next time though by getting my information together in plenty of time, and perhaps even rehearsing at home.  Why does this whole experience make me feel like I am in school again.

I feel like I have a defective part of my brain.  Others seem to do these things so easily.

Waiting until the last minute made me a hair late.  Normally I am punctual.  I could see my supervisor glare at me momentarily as I entered the room.  Time to do better next time.

My Cold, Cold Heart

The dark is beginning to squeeze out the light.  It is pitch dark as I get ready for work.  October rains bring a cold dampness indoors.

I love fall, but then there is the looming threat of winter.  Winter, where the urge to close the curtains, and take a mental health day(or 4 or 5) is ever so strong.  The bed calls my name.  I probably would take a mental health day off, but the health care industry isn’t super compassionate about people missing work…..or at least all the jobs I have ever had.

Just a couple months ago I’d thought about talking to my doctor about decreasing my antidepressants, partly because of the expense.  I feel like that would be a huge mistake. It feels like a switch has been flipped, how I can feel my mood plummeting.

If I were stronger, or more self disciplined, maybe I could handle this better.  I know the dip in my mood is coming, surely there is some way I could be better prepared.

It is probably time to turn off the TV and stay away from the more controversial parts of the internet, that would be helpful.

If this is October what will I do when it gets really cold and that hellish thing called snow comes calling.

Rule Book

When I was a child I remember having very strict notions about what was FAIR.  I think I also had some strict notions about what was just, even if I couldn’t have articulated the concept.  Of course fair as a child might center on trivial issues like each child at the birthday party getting the EXACT same sized piece of cake.

When I was a child I had the notion of an invisible rule book everyone followed, because that would be FAIR. One person would receive the same penalty for a crime as another.  The teacher would step in when she saw someone bullied.

Going to Catholic schools growing up I believed our leaders tried their best to ensure the public school system ensured equality of opportunity for all who passed through its doors.  When my own kids started public school, I saw that wasn’t quite so.

I believed my Catholic public school neighbor would stand up for me when his friend shouted “Dirty Catholic” across the street, when he saw me walking home in my Catholic school uniform.  I believed my parents would intervene somehow in the situation.

I believed that people wouldn’t selectively turn their heads away at the injustices of the world.

Of course little by little I realized my rule book was an imaginary work of fiction in my own brain.  If I got myself in a tizzy every time someone didn’t follow my rule book, I’d go crazy.

Recent events in the US from Charlottesville to the Las Vegas shootings to Harvey Weinstein make me sad.  That rule book in my head just won’t stay quiet.  No answers, just sadness.

I remember after 9/11, crying all the time when I watched the news.  Eventually I had to stop watching TV for a while.  Turning off the TV might be okay, but someday we need to pay enough attention to get our problems figured out.

American Hypocrisy

A few years ago, there was a regular visitor to my workplace, a VIP kind of a guy.  I never did understand his presence in our workplace.  He expected people to stop what they were doing and cater to him.  He often exhibited many strange behaviors.  If you complained about him to your supervisor you’d get some really odd responses.  Odd responses from people that considered themselves very openminded.

I generally found the guy disruptive and an asshole.   One of my odd experiences with him was him entering my “office”, and me finding him there, looking at information that was supposed to be kept confidential.  I complained, and was essentially gaslighted by my supervisor.  I must have misunderstood, he’d entered the office by mistake, he wasn’t trying to look at confidential information.

He kept being an asshole and no on stopped him.  Fast forward a few years and he is asking others how he can take pictures of female employees with his phone.  He makes lewd remarks loud enough for others to hear.  He calls female employees vile names. Not too long after that he is finally banned from our workplace.

When others complained about his behavior they would be told they were taking things too personally.  Administrators don’t seem to care.  I live in a place that calls itself progressive.  People voted for Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama.

While I’d never been the target of the VIP guys lewd comments, the whole experience makes me feel dirty.  Especially the administration’s long term attitude of gaslighting the individuals who had complained about his behaviors.  The two people I directly complained to about him were women.  Go figure.

Fast forward to this Harvey Weinstein business.  It all strangely reminds me of old VIP guy.  People know about his behaviors and don’t challenge him.

Now that famous people are coming forward to denounce Harvey Weinstein, something seems to stink to me.  Surely many people knew about his behaviors before, but chose to deal with the devil anyway.  People are anxiously waiting for Hillary Clinton and the Obamas to denounce him,  as if they believe these individuals care about the Harvey Weinstein’s  behaviors.  Hillary and the Obamas took money from him, they made their deal with the devil.  I have yet to hear if they will return contributions given to them from Weinstein, like other individuals have done.

People give opinions about Harvey Weinstein, but sort of jump around the Clinton issue.  They might denounce Trump and rightly so.

Those who jump around the Clinton issue, I find strange.  It is no good for Harvey Weinstein to be a sexual predator, but we totally avoid the fact that Bill Clinton was also a predator…this I cannot understand.  Especially when so called feminists can’t put Bill in this camp along with the Donald and Harvey.  It makes me sick.

I voted for Jill Stein in 2016.  November of 2016 was as close as I ever came to wanting to move to Canada, not that it would necessarily be a better place.  I hope in 2020 we can find some worthy candidates free of baggage.

 

Confused with Christianity

I was raised Catholic.  Though I certainly have some issues with Catholicism, the brand I was raised with didn’t seem withdrawn from the world at large.

It seems many Christians are huddled in their own little corners, worrying about same sex marriage, female submission or drivel like the Nashville Statement.  Don’t know what the Nashville Statement is?  It is a statement crafted by small minded men focusing especially on sexual morality.

Do the people who dote on issues of sexual immorality think they should ever take a breather for a while and see what is happening in the world?  When did we as Christians decide we should be deaf to the cries of those in need.

So many Christians seem silent on issues like the Charlottesville Riots, hurricaine relief, and DACA?   While I certainly was taught about sexual immorality back in the day, I always felt encouraged in some way that it was our duty to help those less fortunate than us.  Whether it was attempting to feed the hungry, help the elderly, or going to a protest to speak out on Trump’s attempts to end DACA, that spark was always there.

While certainly all Christians don’t fall into this camp, the world is making me sad right now.

Have we forgotten the words of Jesus?

Matthew 25:35-40

35 For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; 36 naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? 38 And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? 39 When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ 40 The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’

Night

My plan is just to get through the night. To wake up in the morning, refreshed and ignorant of what went on through my supposed hours of sleep.

I want no drama, no tangled sheets.  No getting up to make it hotter or colder.  No buzz from my “smart phone”.  No getting up to see what is going on in the world wide web.

No waking up to my legs moving and some curious fragment of a dream. No sensations as if I am falling.  No sweating as if I had really been running.

No curious dreams of people I knew in the past or now in the present.  The most bizarre dream stories contain people I haven’t seen for years along with people I know presently.

No thoughts of trying a potion to make me sleep.  No trying relaxing scents to soothe me to sleep.  No one waking up next to me telling me “why don’t you just try to get to sleep, why do you keep getting up”.  He who falls asleep in minutes, who doesn’t understand my troubles.

Lastly, no getting up to have a snack, thinking if I only had something to eat, I would fall asleep instantly.