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Sunday, April 22, 2012

Messages From Men (& a message from me)

As usual, I started my online morning flight check with a visit to G+. Best read so far is an article about 15 things men want women to know (Thanks, John S.!)  Let me tell you ladies - this stuff is better than you'd guess. Some of the things mentioned, I know. I had to learn the hard way, but... Some of the stuff is very sweet. At any rate, it's definitely worth a read through.

As for my personal message, I just want to say that I am not going to be doing a lot of my usual blog posts.  I am putting together humor material to send to an agent. If I don't like that route, I will go the independent way. Whatever.

I will be posting and sharing stuff here. This blog, after all, is my therapy. In the meantime, for the folks I stay in touch with via email, I'm still here and...









Peace
--Free

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Yours

I'm just a little bit deeper that what you know
A little bit sweeter than what I show
I'm the woman and the girl you always wanted
The eyes and soul part that you always haunted
I'm some kind of your dream that's here
Your need and some kind of your fear
I'm the one who can own you
Cause I've always known you

Now
Go feel that

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Aware of Emptiness

(Goku means "Aware of emptiness.)
Just being chill after a night out on the stroll

That's Goku (the black one). He's been somewhere in this family of ours for around 10 years. At various times he's been in four of our homes - moves, traded back and forth... Never mattered because, as long as he was in one of our homes, he was part of all our lives. And he didn't just come and stay with us; he came and took over the neighborhood.

Putting the new cat-in-residence in check.



I can't even remember right now how he came to the family. I think he was a garbage can rescue...

This is his look that says, "Where the heck is the doorman? I got places to be, cats to see"  



We called him the "Pimp Cat."  And he really was the pimping-nest cat. Just pure, freaking cool. He had a crew wherever he went. In our neighborhood off Lake Otis, he'd disappear somewhere over near the school. We are sure that he had a feline lover over that way because he'd be gone for hours and come back to just pass out by the food and water dish! He had his "boys," too. They didn't cause trouble or make a lot of noise, but they were like characters out of West Side Story, trolling the streets. No one ever complained... And Goku was a bold one. When Dre and Cherie lived out near Foxwood, Goku had a couple of garages he'd camp out in. I think the owners gave him copies of their keys so he could come and go as he pleased.

Though he wasn't always the most affectionate cat (kind of hard to keep that cool attitude when you'll just, you know, curl up and submit to being petted on) he would every now and then get in a mood. Might allow you to hold him and spend a moment or two discussing the serious things happening in your life. Mostly, he used us for exercise and pleasure. He hurt the hell out of my feelings when I first gained so much weight - he'd come over and knead the fat rolls on my gut. Sometimes, he'd talk trash to us. Like if he wanted out and we weren't moving fast enough to get the door for him. 

Anyway, that was our Goku. Officially, he belonged to my nephew Dre, but, really, he was all of ours.

He just went and broke all our hearts by dying.

I'm so sad.

Peace
--Free

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

I Like It

I like the sounds of passion better than the feel of it.
The sound creates the images and the depth.
I like the words we use better than the things we mean
The words don't make me think too much.

I love the way you look at me when you're lost in it
The look tells me things I really like to know.
I like the movement more than the intention
The movement brings more heat and sweet to it.

I feel who you are when we are over it
The who you are is the real you you are.
I need the way we are when reality comes back
Reality is the part we let the others see.

Peace
--Free

Should I? Should I? Should I?

All right, Readers, I need your input.

For about 2 years I've been playing with the idea of writing a book. Nothing fancy, just a self-pub through, say, Amazon or something. I got the idea when a friend of mine (Drew Williams) brought it up. At the time, I was so on the move - not in a good way, but in a running-from-a-crazy-relationship kind of way.

Once I got back to Anchorage this last time, I'd hope to get on my feet (money-feet, job-feet, maybe find-a-love-feet) and give writing another try. Yeah, well, my health had other plans. Didn't consult with me at all beforehand, just knocked me on my ass with this nasty Sarcoidosis.

Well, the Sarc is still here, I'm still not really on any of my "feet," and life is just as messy as ever. Here's the thing, though: I realized that life is always messy - sometimes good-messy or sad-messy or fun-happy-odd-messy. Life, at least my life, is never going to be "normal" or set. I have to work with what I've got from where I'm at.

So. A book. Not the big trilogy I worked on for around 3 years. Not anything that will bring a Pulitzer committee around - shoot, probably not anything to bring a free magazine subscription in! But, still, a book.

I don't need to feel important or smart or even sane to anyone other than the people I care about and who care about me. I just want to make people smile and feel better about life. I want to be the writer you think of at the same time you think of the real and ordinary and good and sad and bad of everyday life. I just want to write things that will be read.

And, because I am also so broke that all the king's men might not be able to put me back together again, I need to make some kind of money out of it. Not big money, not Bentley or Maybach money. I'd be happy to make pay-ATT-and-the-doctors'-bills money. I hate this feeling of poverty and financial helplessness I'm living with. (Do you know that there were moments when I thought of setting up a private family-only begging site? Not that my family isn't helping me as is, but I wanted to have like a solid plan of income! lol)

I am going to work through the Sarc. I think that since I am going at my own pace, I can manage.

So.

I want to write. I want to know if anyone has any idea about how that works. Is Amazon's self-pub a good way to go? Are there better ways to go? Anybody have any advice, ideas...? I'll take any help I can get.

By the way, I have a lot of material started. I plan to use my new blog to give previews as I finish sections and I will put up a link here when it's ready to start viewing. I will want a lot of feedback from you, my G+ pals. You all have been a huge source of encouragement these past weeks.

For those with serious information, please contact me at trudymconway@live.com

Peace
--Free

Me & My Shadows

I have discussed my phobias before. My many, many phobias. I have made attempts to be braver about things, but I am a work in progress. Progress is slow.

I wish I will one day be able to write a post listing my cured phobias. In the meantime, all I can do is keep writing about them period.

Let's see, there is my fear of heights, bridges, deep water, driving next to deep water, walking on dirt/grass/gravel with or without shoes, snakes, scorpions and photos with eyes. (No, that's not all of them, but these will get us started.)

When you stop laughing, I will gladly explain.

Ready?

Okay.

The thing with heights has to do with falling. The idea dropping to the ground even from a shoe heel high enough for a respectable hooker just bothers me. The idea of being several feet off the ground makes me mildly uncomfortable. The idea of dropping off a high balcony or railing just scares the freaking over-yonder-y'all Texas accent right out of me. I have avoided chances for classier seats at theatrical plays because of this fear.

I have had a problem with this when traveling. Of course, there's the whole airplane thing. I have made some very temporarily intimate friends that I bond with during the take-off and landing of flights. There is something about flirting with strangers just so they will let you be a big ole baby and hold their hand during the ascent and descent of your jet travels. (And, yes, I realize there is no real logic to this. It's not like having a hand to hold is going to save a life should the plane crash, right. Well, that's not the point. The point is to have a real flesh and blood piece of the anatomy to squeeze while on your way to a potential death. A hand is better than anything else I might grab in a panic. I think women who give childbirth can relate to this.)

The height thing has also caused problems for me when traveling by ground. For instance, I (as a child)  proudly traveled many times the great Alaska Canada Highway with my military family. I said "proudly" not bravely. As a passenger, I'm not bad. When I was young, I loved that ride. I sat in the back of our old station wagon, ate salami and cracker snacks and got geopgraphy, geology and zoology lessons from my parents. Plus, I got to lay down and say "lalalala" to myself as a coping mechanism when crossing bridges or driving next to water.

As an adult, I had to actually help drive the AlCan. Closing your eyes and saying "lalalala" is not really a safe option when you are behind the wheel of the vehicle. I know because I tried it a couple of times. During one family move, my sister threatened to put me out and leave me on the side of the road once about 70 miles outside Whitehorse.

My soon-to-be ex-husband and I drove from Arizona to Anchorage the second year we were together. I was still so in love and later joked to everyone that we'd survived that drive so we'd survive anything. I really  hate it when crap like that comes back to tell on me. Sometimes when I am tempted poke sharp pins into the head of a little doll named Tim, I calm myself with the memory that he once really loved me. I know he did. The fact that he didn't commit any kind of spousal abuse during that trip says great things about either his patience or the power of my prayers. I was no joy to travel with, let me tell you. First of all, I have a really bad sense of direction. If I had been alone, I'd still be trying to find my way out of Vancouver. Second of all, there are those phobias...

One night, after Tim had driven something like 14 hours straight, I took the wheel to "bring us on into" whatever the next town was. And I was bringing us, baby. I was doing around 80 and just feeling all that loud Rick James funk I had going on the stereo. I was bringing us smooth and steady. Then I damn near flipped the Explorer trunk over hood. That's how hard I hit the brakes. Poor Tim - all 5' 6" of him - almost smooshed against the dash like a cartoon character (which I thought at the time didn't do much for his looking sexy). First, he re-gained some composure (still, not sexy), then he used every non-nice word in the English language to ask what was wrong with me. I'm glad he's uni-lingual.

I gave him my look - the one that was waiting to see if he was finished being so damned rude - and pointed. "Bridge."

I think I saw my possible death in that man's eyes. My mother always told me that God has special angels watching over me. This I now know. I think I might have even seen a feather from Gabriel's wings as Tim got out and came around to the driver's seat.

So, yeah. The height phobia is not good for travel. This is why I couldn't live in Dallas, couldn't drive certain places in Houston and learned every single surface road when I lived around Phoenix. Those Rounds and Mixers and Multi-layer works of concrete art you have to drive on... Nah. Ain't happening.

The other of my phobias that most people don't get right off has to do with my sensitivity to textures. Underfoot textures.

I know that when I was young and staying in Texas, I played with my cousins in the dirt, grass and mud. There is plenty of photographic evidence of my little dusty young self, ashy-kneed and very happy. I don't know exactly when I got so... weird about the outdoors. My brothers tease me and say that I was always a prissy little snit. Whatever. (I have promised my niece and nephew to give one of their camping/fishing outings a try this summer. Of course, it took my health scare and this new appreciation of life to make that promise possible.)

And the strangest of my phobias? The thing about pictures with eyes. I cringe to even think about it. The eyes, not the phobia.

You know how the eyes in photos and paintings kind of follow you? Like they are watching you? Okay. That's the feeling that creeps me out. I don't really like live things watching me like that, and I sure don't want to be tracked by some dead relative or perfect stranger. It was another thing about me that annoyed Tim. He thought it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard when I refused to have pictures in our bedroom. I think he was going to pull some kind of Who's Your Daddy bullshit with me over it. Threatened to go out and buy lots of pictures just to prove his point. He got right over that impulse when I explained that I'd probably go completely frigid at the thought of "eyes" watching us make each other, um,  happy. Like any normal guy, Tim just loves to be happy... He almost hurt himself getting rid of pictures. Damn near threw out precious family photo albums until I reminded him that they were okay because they were in albums.

So, yeah, I have some issues. I know that I should be in therapy, but I have a phobia about opening up to strangers.

I'm just stuck with being me.

Peace
--Free


Something About Love


A BFF is going through some pain right now. Someone she really cared about seems to have started caring more for someone else. It's hard enough to share love between two. When there are three hearts involved, someone is always going to be wondering if they are getting the smallest part of the whole.

My friend called me just to do what we always do when one of us is hurting: Nothing at all but sit, listen and try to pretend we have all the wisdom in the world. After all, true wisdom is just being wise enough to care.

What the hell do I know about love? If I knew all that much, I wouldn't be alone and with a trail of ruined relationships behind me like crumbs. If I knew much at all, I would not be human...

Not having all the answers never stops me from trying to find the words. So I tell my friend that she is, as Sade sings, so much better than she knows. I tell her about how it's okay to be a fool for someone you love. And it is, you know. Don't let anyone tell you that you should walk away, that you should just forget him and move on. Don't let anyone tell you any of that or all the other stuff you already know. What your mind knows and what your heart feels at a time like this - at any time - have nothing to do with each other. If they did, you would not hurt, nor would you ever truly love.

Love is the possibility of hurt. Love is opening your heart to someone, trusting them to take care of all the parts of your soul that you put into their care. Now, there is cautious love and careful love and protect-your-heart-and-wallet love. Those are easy. You can write contracts and plans out for that kind of "love". But real and true, giving and whole love... That is something else. There is no piece of paper, band of gold or cut of diamond that can define it. There are no songs, verses or written fantasies that will capture it.

I don't believe anymore in soul mates. I do believe in finding someone you can trust and want and respect and cherish and be ever-amazed by. I believe that you can end up with the right steward of all that you are and all you need to be. But we don't always find that one right away.

My friend hasn't found the one. In the meantime, she has been brave and hopeful enough to open herself to the hurt she is feeling right now.

We sat on the phone all night. Sometimes, we laughed about the absurdity of love, but mostly we were just trying to understand how to deal with all the feelings love brings. That was a little like trying to pin water to a board.

Finally, we just decided that, no matter what, it's worth it - love is. It's worth it because it's our human way of reaching for joy. It's how and why we dream. It's who and what we were meant to be. It's the part of us that makes our flesh pair with our souls. 

We don't feel any more enlightened this morning that we did last night, but we do feel renewed. My friend is going to survive this heartache. Because of this pain, she is going to be a sweeter gift to the one she is meant to be with.

Peace
--Free

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

It's All About ME

Yes, this post is all about me.

Actually, I am trying to learn to be less self-absorbed. The thing is, one of the stateside BFFs just called to check on me. As we talked, she told me that she has become very introspective. She feels she will be happier with her life if she can really understand who she is to herself and how other people see her.

I'm not sure what put my girl in this kind of a mood, but I got drawn in by the whole idea. I asked her how she planned to go about this self-awareness thing, how she thinks it will matter to her happiness.

"I think that real peace and happiness is about finding yourself," she says. "Knowing where you are now, what you feel, what you need. It's the only way to be you and do you."

Huh?

A couple of my friends talk like that. It sounds so very cool to me. And I get it - mostly. Just takes me a minute to let the meanings soak in.

So now, I am sitting here, trying to find myself...

LOL. I got nothing!

This is really kind of sad.  I am going to call up my niece and see if she can help me out.

I ask her what kind of person I am. She does a lot of hemming and hawing and says, "You are my...auntie. That's a hard question." (We really were on the phone as I typed this.)

She got quiet for so long, I did that thing where I go, "Gabby? You still there?"

She's still there and this is what she came up with, in a kind of free-flow fashion:

"You are... Driven, experimental (will try new things, adventurous), you just now put Greek yogurt into some Vanilla Bean ice cream - by the way: YUCK. Funny. You are very funny... This is hard! Those are the best things about you. And you're a good conversationalist."

Me: "So what are some bad things?"

"You can be kind of moody - that's the nicest way I can say that. And... Um, ummmm, hmmmm. Oh! You can be argumentative, but that's genetic. We don't really argue, we just kind of debate. Everything."

Good. Good. This really isn't so bad. I'm getting excited now so I'm going to go ask my other niece and my sister. This is going to be fun. I'm taking pen and paper because I have a mind like a raggedy sieve. We are no longer "live," people. I will have to come back to this.

I go downstairs where the ladies are in the kitchen and dining room with Baby D.J. (Too bad D.J. can't talk yet. That kid would have me elevated to sainthood!)

"Okay, you guys, I'm doing this thing where I need you to tell me some good and bad things about myself," I tell them. "I need you to be really, super honest. I can handle it."

My big sister doesn't even ask why I want to know this stuff. (I've been this way all my life & my family is used to me.) She is fixing beans and ground beef to make burritos for dinner and she didn't even pause.

"Intellectual and sometimes a flat-out bitch."

Oooh. Ouch. (Let me explain that the other night I had a little moment of rage with my sister as the target. From what they tell me, I took "rage" to a whole other prednisone-based, foul-mouthed level.)

"But you know I love you," she finishes and goes back to her burritos. (What you wanna bet she forgets to put some non-spicy filling aside for me? I'll probably have flaming taste buds after dinner!)

"Okay, how about you?" I ask my niece. (She just loves this kind of thing. She and I are weird like that.)

"On the non-positive side, I'll say anti-social - at time. Can be a calculating starts-with-B-and-rhymes-with-snitch."

I can take this. Really, I can. "What about on the positive side?"

"Great debater of ideas, opinionated, can be extremely generous and compassi-"

"What do you mean by 'can be?'" I asked. "Am I or am I not?"

"Usually. Since the Sarc...um, it's a little iffy."

"Okay. I get it. Go on."

"That's about it. Oh - and you used to be very focused."

(There are those italics in her tone again. Whatever.)

My nephew has come in during all of this. I explain what I'm doing and he gives me his take in about 4.6 seconds.

"You are one of the most generous and caring people in the world. You will do anything for those you care about."

Score!

"But you can also be stubborn and unwilling to admit someone else might be right about something you don't agree with."

I can't even argue with that because then I will be proving him right. In front of witnesses. Damn.

Well, because other family members and a friend that I need to hear from are out of state, I sent text messages at 2:16pm with the same challenge.

From my little brother (who adores me! ~grin~) at 2:25pm - "Spiritual, analytical, discerning, reliable, stubborn, blunt, set in your own ways.  Love you!"

At 2:27pm - "I forgot loyal and incredibly intelligent. Love you!"

At 2:28pm - "And a helluva writer."

From my other niece at 2:44pm - "I'd say organized, disciplined, consistent and responsible. Not to mention types 100 words a minute." (She has not seen me type since I sarc'ed out.)

From a friend in Texas at 2:19pm - "You are so sweet that it's almost childlike. Mean sometimes. Dreamy. Naive. Hard. Smart. Fun. Funny. Funner. Loving. Will say almost anything. Will shut down. Will shut people out of your life if they hurt you. Afraid and brave at the same time. Love you, miss you, wish I was with you."

So.

Now I have some feedback to work with. It does help me think about myself a little clearer. While I would like to just focus on all the cool stuff my fam said about me, I do know that some of the strongest of my traits are the less glowing ones. I tend to be moody. (I am Cancer the crab & I don't really believe in the nonsense of horoscopes, but reading about the sign of Cancer could pull me in.) I am selfish at times without even realizing it. I am opinionated and even when I waffle around feelings on an issue, I'm tooth and nail whichever way I'm going at the moment. Also, I tend to brood. I can be really childish if my feelings get hurt. And I have only recently learned not to hold a grudge. (Okay, I still hold grudges, but not for as long and not for really silly things. Usually.)

Other than that, I am a great gal. LOL

I will spend some time thinking about all this. I want to work on being better in so many areas and I'm going to start  - right - now!

Peace
--Free

Laugh, Cry or Die

Told you how the BFF "B" had a good laugh at my expense yesterday. I'm pretty sure she read the  post (probably to make sure I put in the INXS song) because she called me back to see if I was okay. We ended up talking about some of the crazy crap we went through during all those years at the clearance hub.

B started at the hub when I was already about 4 years in. She was very smart and quick on her feet so, of course, she promoted up fast. By the time she and I were working together, things were so crazy there that stuff could change from one day to the next. B got nervous when Treasury made us ramp up and automate a bunch of tasks. We literally went from handwriting and having entries keyed in to getting them into the data system as soon as they came off the planes. This is just before we got to the point of pre-clearing all the Hong Kong freight and most of the Japan stuff. Pre-clearance required so much direct contact with Customs and was so nerve-wracking that our GM rotated people through the job. If you got the assignment, you were stuck for a two-week rotation. It was sort of okay if you got along with the guys in Customs, but if even one of them didn't like you, you'd be miserable. B got added to the group of us who did pre-clearance. That was because she didn't panic easy under pressure. Good, right? Yep, except for some unknown reason, one of the main Customs officials just hated her. He didn't like her from the minute he met her. Our GM noticed and offered B an easy out of the assignment, no penalty, but she wasn't backing down. Good for her. Of course, she was all sick to her stomach at the thought of screwing up any little tiny thing.

Another guy and I had done the rotations long enough that nothing really fazed us. Most of the Customs guys were cool with us, and the hard-ass that gave B a hard time was just mildly rude to us We - me and the other guy - decided to pep-talk B through her first rotation. We told her how to just keep a polite but blank face and how to imagine "Scary Guy" as a Barney Fife character just to keep herself steady. She survived. She made a few mistakes - one of them cost our brokerage a huge fine, but, hey, she never made that same mistake.

Later on, she told me and our other co-worker that she'd made it through every single challenge at the hub by using a sense of humor. We ended up being a little crew of pranksters. We pranked each other mostly, but if we really liked someone, we'd prank them. When we worked night shift in the winters, we would steal someone's keys and go move their car. When they got ready to leave work, they'd think they had missed a snow-removal notice from Maintenance and had their car towed. Once we went so far as to dismantle someone's desk so that it just collapsed when they sat down and went to pull their chair in close. My favorite prank was when we had this one co-worker who always came back late from lunches. We worked nights and there were only about 20 of us present on the Broker side. We really depended on each other to be on time. To teach this person a lesson, we just weren't there when they got back from lunch one night. Security was in on it with us. When the person went all over the building looking for us, Security told them that there had been an evacuation and employees had been sent home at end of the last lunch break. Actually, we were all just hiding out in one of the Freight side offices for a few minutes.

B said that she probably would not have lasted so long at the hub if it hadn't been for the fun we managed to have. I don't think I would have lasted either. It was too stressful otherwise.

Last night, she and were walking that little path of our memories. B remembers almost everything except the name of that Customs guy who gave her such a hard time. I think his name was Stan, but I'm not sure. Anyway, just talking about some of those days made us remember a lot of the funny stuff that happened.

One time, one of our friends damn near slid down half the stairs that ran along one of the ramps. One minute she was standing there, watching one of the planes being loaded, the next, she slipped and was literally just sliding down those metal steps. It was like something out of Merrie Melodies. That was so damn hilarious that just thinking of it makes me and B crack up right now. Not that we are cruel or anything. The chick turned out to be okay, but they damn near had to shut down the hub because of the whole thing. Another time, I got busted by security cameras putting on pantyhose in my car. Had ripped my hose on the way to work with no time to change. Grabbed an extra pair and when I got to work, I just did the whole shimmy-shimmy change-over in the car. Got inside and had a bunch of smart-ass guards applauding my antics. That was so embarrassing.

Another time, when I became a Trainer, I was sick with a virus or something that we called the "Creeping Crud" at the same time that I had a huge class session going. The class was for managers and supervisors from both freight and broker sides so re-scheduling would have been a nightmare. I also had reps from FDA and Fish and Wildlife sitting in. The whole thing was 10 or 12 days or something and just so tightly scheduled that there was no way out. The other trainer was in Newark doing training. Okay. I go ahead with the class and made it almost all the way through without dying. I'd get up around 5am, go in and set up PCs and materials and be ready for those guys at 7. Lunch at around noon, I'd go in the office and lay on the floor and just want to die in peace. By the time three o'clock came, I'd revive long enough to drive home and just go to bed, watch TV and pass out to sleep between coughing fits. It all worked out until the last three or four days. I just didn't think I was going to make it. I didn't have a regular doctor then, but our training office was in Spenard and just around the corner there was a clinic. I had gone there a couple of times for minor stuff, so I went over to see what they could do for my misery. I can't remember exactly what kind of bug I had, but the doctor gave me antibiotics and some cough syrup with codeine in it. Great. The cough syrup let me get a good night sleep and I thought I'd be better at work. Let me tell you something about me and narcotics. Apparently, as with liquor, I'm a lightweight. The cough syrup that I took at around 6 or 7 at night was still in my system all the next day. I barely managed to stay awake through class. Then, to top it all off, I started getting nauseous. I'd do 10 or 15 minutes of class and go to the bathroom to throw up. Still not as bad as it got. As bad as it got is when I just vomited all over the floor in the middle of the class. I don't know where it came from. There was no warning heave or anything. It was a mess. We all took a break while Janitorial came in and cleaned things up. I am to this very day SO proud of myself. I bulldozed my way through to the end of that class. I think it was a month later that I had my one and only bout with pneumonia. About a month after that,  fractured a rib sneezing... Crazy. One lady from Customs that I kept in touch with for years after would mention that class every time we ran into each other.

On a lighter side, B remembered the time that she spent half a shift at work with a big old blue or pink Conair hot curler in the back of her head. This is a woman who was always turned out so nice for work. She said that she kept feeling weight against her back... The really messed up thing - and this tells you something about what bitches we women can be - is that it was a guy who told her when he spotted the curler. Now, you know that women check each other out head to freaking toe. You know that a woman saw that curler and just thought, "Heh heh."

One time when I just knew I was cute to death,  I had to go up where the pilots's lounge was. That hardly ever happened and I can't remember if I had a legitimate reason to go there or what. At any rate, of course, we all loved those guys in their sexy uniforms. Face it, a guy can look like Flavor Flav, but stick him in an outfit with epaulets and a hat... Boom! Sex-ay, right? Anyway, I get myself to the area and I guess, did what I was there to do. I end up passing the lounge just right before I hear some of the pilots coming out and down the hall behind me. Let me tell you something, I had on this cute outfit that I wore so much that it was dang near my signature. It was a cropped duster jacket/short skirt suit that at least covered my butt. Mostly. (The company eventually banned the style saying we needed to look like professionals and not the cast of "Knots Landing." Damn, I'm old!) I know I had on stilt-heels because that's all I ever wore then. And I am working that walk. When you are young, thin and cute, you walk like you own the idea of "hot." Yeah, well, I did my thing and did it well until I got to the elevators and the pilots had gone on their way. When I get back to the Broker floor, I stop in the ladies room. I damn near wanted to die when I see in the mirror that I've been tramping around with my hem tucked under my waistband, leaving my behind just hanging all out. Oh. My. Damn. Really? If I hadn't been so busy being "hot," I might have felt a breeze or something.

Yeah. That is one of B's favorite stories. The other one has to do with the time I drug half a roll of toilet tissue from the bathroom, down the hall and into the Admin office...

I'm not the only one who did stupid and embarrassing stuff. One time this really sweet guy named Evander had a super-cringe moment. He was one of the nicest guys I'd ever met (B remembers because she told me last night that she had a mild crush on him) and he was really shy. He worked in our Tech department doing whatever Tech guys do. ~shrug~ Evander had a crush on our GM's executive assistant. I can't think of her name now, but I know she was really nice. Smart. She was going to be leaving for college to study something amazing like molecular physics or something I can barely spell. Anyway, Evander had crushed on her for forever, and we all could tell she kind of crushed back. But you can't hem and haw and make goo-goo eyes forever when one of you is planning to go away. Finally, I guess Evander got the nerve to say something to this girl when a bunch of us were in the GM's office officially for a meeting/unofficially killing time at the end of a really long day. The GM always kept a really nice coffee and dessert table ready. At some point Evander and this girl were standing there together and you could just see he was going to go for it and say something. The only problem is, poor Evander had a booger about to fall out of his nose. Oh,  damn, right? I think it was my friend V who noticed and started trying to throw hand signals or gang signs or something to warn Evander. Long story probably not short enough: The booger didn't fall, but I guess it was a turn off. Those two coulda-beens never happened. The girl went away without hooking up with Evander.  If that was because of the booger, well, too bad for her. She and Evander could have ended up having a funny story to tell their kids. Well, maybe they could have changed the part about the booger to something else. (I wonder what the heck ever happened to Evander?)

And if you think having a booger on your face is embarrassing, I once farted in a meeting. Totally wanted to breathe my last and just go on to Heaven from that very spot. It wasn't a stinky fart or anything, but - oh, horror, horror, nightmare was it kind of loud. B was in that meeting. At the time, she reassured me that it wasn't that loud and that probably no one noticed. Last night, that lying shit told me that it had sounded like a car backfiring. (Notice how convenient her memory is... ) It's not like I was raised with no home-training; it's that I had been a little sick that week. I had been burping and passing gas for a couple of days. Let me tell you something about myself. I embarrass easily. I was taught that it is just not ladylike to do certain things outside the bathroom - such blow your nose, "poot" (as we called farting) or belch really loud. When we were kids, if me or my sister or brothers did any of this in public, our parents would look at us as if we'd signed a pact with Satan and say, "Have you gone and lost your manners?" ("Losing your manners" is also another way to say "farted.") Can you imagine how hard it was for me not to run out of that meeting, jump in my car and just drive off to somewhere like, say, Mars? Thank goodness for the politeness of other people. I got a look or two, but no one broke out laughing. Everyone mostly pretended like nothing happened. Oh, the shame! LOL (I almost didn't even put that story in here, except for my thing about being so open in this blog.)

B did tell me that she recently broke wind in public. She said she was at the store and thought she was alone on an aisle. Said her tummy had been bothering her so she just cut loose to get some relief. Of course, as soon as she did, here come a couple of people. She said they walked right into that cloud of funk. I asked how she handled it and she said she looked right at one of the people and made a can-you-believe-someone-did-that? face. That's my friend, B!

Wow. I still cannot believe I put some of this stuff in here. B and I had such a good time laughing about all of this though. Sometimes it's just good not to take yourself so seriously, I guess.

I think it was an auntie of mine who once told me about life's little embarrassments. "You laugh, cry or die." I guess we should just learn to laugh at it all.

Peace
--Free

Monday, April 16, 2012

Mixed Bag Monday

(Don't ask what is going on with the HTML editor in Blogger the last couple days, 'cause I have no idea. As Stevie Winwood says, just "Roll with it, baby.")

Wow. I just had about 2 hours of zone out time. Tried doing some meditating to get my focus off this damn pain in my side. I know that I should probably tell my doctor about it, but it's like I'm always whining, crying, complaining and being such a pain in his ass. And, yes, I know how stupid that sounds because that's kind of what doctors are for, but... I'm pretty sure that I have just wrenched my back or something. This is going to get better if I stop forgetting and moving the wrong way.

Anyway, like I said, I have been kind of meditating. Well, I don't know if it's meditating or just letting myself get really chill for a while. I just sat for a while, put on some Coltrane and (of all things) Patti Austen and, well, just let stuff not root in my mind. That was kind of nice. I think too much all the time. Of course, one problem with the meditating (or Trudy-ating) that I was doing is that all those thoughts that I didn't let take root at the moment are bouncing back to me now. I can't remember any of them very clearly, but mostly what came to mind (and that I remember) were pieces of things I've heard or read. Frustrating because of my memory problems. I had to hunt and search to find them for this post:

“Imagine a man who stands before a mirror; a stone strikes it, and it falls to ruin all in an instant. And the man learns that he is himself, and not the mirrored man he had believed himself to be.” 

That's one I have tried to recall a lot lately. (I didn't know it was from someone named Gene Wolfe. I think it's one I just heard mentioned in a conversation with a friend -?) But, like I said, it's bounced in and out of my head thousands of times recently. Maybe because I feel that the Sarcoidosis has been my stone. I guess I am trying so hard now to keep in mind that I am myself. I have to hold on to that.

Then I was thinking of an old boyfriend that had called me the other day. So hilarious to me that I never did anything but sleep next to him in a bed (we didn't ever go past that in our feelings for each other). He screwed around with everybody in the world, but told me that I was the woman he just liked being close to. Good thing. No telling what kind of infectious shit he had brewing in his drawers... Once when we were just laying around his house watching something stupid on TV like old "Bewitched" re-runs or something, he read parts of "Lady Chatterley's Lover" to me. Shocked hell out of me when he read out “We fucked a flame into being." Shut the damn door! I've read that book. I read that book at least 5 times in my life. Why don't I remember that being in there. It is though. And this pointed out to me by a man who never went past sleeping with his hand on my hip? Damn.

Of course, I am remembering that guy, (call him "V") and wondering what it says about me that we never made love. I didn't have the nerve to ask him when we talked recently because it just couldn't be that kind of conversation. He's married and so incredibly happy that I wanted to remind him to always hang on to this woman (He's had a lot of hurt in the heart.) I don't know who the lady is, but I wish I could tell her what I heard in V's voice when he said her name. That man is down for her. What's really eating at me now that I am really thinking about all this is that V isn't the only man I had that kind of relationship with.  Never really thought about it until now, but what the hell is wrong with me?

I had such a great friendship with "D" for about 3 years before we just kind of starting looking differently at each other. He was the first one of us to get sent over to Hong Kong when we tried upping the success of brokerage clearance. I was his Anchorage liason and we'd email back and forth and have daily nervous breakdowns over some shit like Customs holding up important freight that we had pre-cleared. Those emails were strictly business, but we set up a system of covering our asses with personal emails (because of the time difference and our exhaustion). Those mails started getting personal - I guess because distance equals safety and boldness and - whatever. D was in Hong Kong for about two months and when he got back it was close to my birthday. He gave me a beautiful pearl necklace that I have to this day. We started hanging out at his house. I stayed over later and later, and pretty soon I was spending the night. We'd just fall asleep across his bed. It was nice. No pressure, no shame, no sin. We'd just hold hands and talk, then go to sleep. It was incredibly intense and intimate in a way that sex just cannot be.  I'd wake up with breath that could detonate bombs and he'd still keep a straight face while giving me a Good Morning peck. Funniest thing is that we never brought that shit to work. We'd be complete business at the office. Everyone just assumed we were really good friends. I guess we were. (I stayed friends with him, though we stopped the sleepovers. When I got married, he stopped calling me. I saw him a couple years ago in Walmart and we hugged, did a quick life catch-up chat, traded contact info, but - nothing. I think I hurt him by getting married.)Yeah, so. I had these things on my mind after the little chill-out session.

After I wrote this post, I called one of the BFFs (B) because I felt just a little depressed by it all. My dumb ass forgot that I'd never told her about my thing with D. When I got through being all dramatically upset (I'm such a drama queen), I was waiting for B's usual reassurances. Bitch just about broke a rib laughing! She had known about V but not D and, for some reason, this just rocked her world...

Okay, B still made me feel better. Probably because her laughter is absolutely contagious. Probably because I can finally stop being embarrassed about the whole thing.  B says that sometimes, even guys just need a safe place to be loved. She says that I was that safe place for V and D. (I notice that she doesn't seem to mind that the guys she's cared for have just found her too hot for all that cuddling-only crap!) Heffa.

Anyway, while we were yakking, she asked what it was I was listening too. I told her and she insists I find a YouTube version to add to this post. All my good friends know that I am into words and music. If one doesn't soothe, release or fix life, the other will. So, my gal B wants the music here?

Okay then.






Musical Flashback


Need I say anything? Nope.


Sunday, April 15, 2012

Musical Flashback

I've always loved this song. Always thought it was so soft and sweet. Even when a good friend tried to ruin it for me by hinting that Bette wasn't singing about dancing at all.

Just a sweet, nice and easy listen.

I couldn't find a video with the original. In this one she kind of vamps it up a bit, but that's Bette for you!

Predni- bitch..

I always talk about the prednisone and the predni-pounds it puts on me, but, man, the attitude crap is horrible! I have been a complete and total bitch to almost everyone this weekend.

That I have friends left & family still claiming me is a testament to the power of love. Theirs for me.

Every day I try to get a photo of my nephew DJ. We're planning to do a video for his Christening in July. Well, usually, he sees me coming with the camera (or just sees coming, because he loves me) and I get a big, wonderful grin or giggle or both. Not this morning. See, yesterday (I think it happened yesterday), I got so frustrated by not being able to get out and away by myself that I went on a little spree of ugliness. I'm talking about snapping at everyone and just being a real snot. During one of my moments, I happened to pass DJ and did not smile or speak to him. Oh shit.

This is the look I got from Deej when I tried taking a good pic a while ago:


You notice that he is not even looking my way. He is looking at the basketball game his dad has on TV. He's not sad or anything, he is just not the least bit interested in me. I think that is DJ-mode for Two Can Play That Nasty Mood...

So. Of course, my feelings were hurt. I spent the next few minutes pulling out all the pet names I have for him. I made faces, I clapped my hands - basically I made a fool of myself. Like I said, it took a minute. Finally I brought out the big guns and used my/his favorite name: Sugar Snickle.

Magic!


We're are back in love. Everything's gonna be all right!

Now, if only it was so easy to make up with the big people...

I am going to be making some phone calls and sending texts for a while. Have to make up for being a predni-bitch.

Peace
--Free

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Push-Push

Seems like this is going to be quite the summer.

Went to the doctor today about the latest Sarc swing and this freaking dizziness. (Learned that riding in a vehicle makes the dizziness much worse!) Not sure what is causing what's happening, but I am reassured that my doctors are on it. I have to say once again just how lucky I was to get the right doctors at the right time. I have often wondered what would have happened to me if I had been away from home and people who care about me. I have seriously thought that had I still been with Tim or in Texas, that I would probably be dead. Scary.

I was going to post about the whole Sarc thing and how it's making me feel (scared, crazy, confused, worried....), but decided to stay positive and upbeat. Might as well start letting my mood match the wonderful weather. So, instead of being a cold-water rain, I will be sunny and tell you something encouraging:

Remember how (either here or on G+) I have talked about putting yourself out there when it comes to saying what you feel? Well, I spoke up (or rather wrote out) about how I feel to a person I care about. Do I feel it was risk? Sure. Do I regret it? Nope. That's because, no matter how the person takes it - whether they feel the same or feel opposite - at least now they know. Also, I think that everyone appreciates knowing that they have made such an impression on another person. I bet that, no matter what, the person I'm talking about is going to feel good every time they think of what I said. The most important thing to me is not how this all makes me feel (sad or rejected, etc.) but that it makes the other person feel good. If they are in a situation where they are not appreciated, well, at least they know now that someone thinks the world of them. If they are ever having a bad day, they can feel better knowing they mean something to someone. (And you all know what I mean. Which one of us hasn't been crushed on by someone? And didn't we like it even if we didn't crush back on the person? Go on, admit it. lol)

I'm trying to think of whether or not I want to share here in this post what I did say to this person... I don't think I will because I promised that the words I did say to them now belonged to them. It will stay that way. A gift.

Of course, I second-guessed myself right after I gifted the words, but in talking with folks over on G+, I got a lot of insight. Between about four of us, we came up with the idea that it's better to go for what is right than to wait for what is perfect. Hell, there is nothing perfect anyway. I am flawed, why should I want something or someone perfect? So I can feel smaller? So I can always be so worried about meeting impossible expectations rather than enjoying the good and now?

So, my thing today is all about the Push-Push. Push for being happiest in whatever life is going to bring - in health, in the heart, in the head... Whatever. No more being passive. Push-Push.

Peace
--Free

Cue the appropriate sunny-mood music...



Thursday, April 12, 2012

Musical Flashback!

That old dog has chained you up alrightGive you everything you needTo live inside a twisted cageSleep beside an empty rageI had a dream, I was your hero
Damn, I wish I was your loverI'll rock you till the daylight comesMake sure you are smilin' and warmI am everything, tonight I'll be your motherI will do such things to ease your painFree your mind and you won't feel ashamed, oh, ohOpen up on the inside, gonna fill you up, gonna make you cry
This monkey can't stand to see you black and blueGive you somethin' sweet each timeYou come inside my jungle bookWhat is it just too good?Don't say you'll stay 'cause then you go away
Damn, I wish I was your loverI'll rock you till the daylight comesMake sure you are smilin' and warmI am everything, tonight I'll be your motherI will do such things to ease your painFree your mind and you won't feel ashamed
Shucks, for me there is no otherYou're the only shoe that fitsI can't imagine I'll grow out of itDamn, I wish I was your lover
If I was your girl believe meI'd turn on the Rollin' StonesWe could groove along and feel much betterLet me inI could do it forever and ever and ever and ever
Give me an hour to kiss youWalk through Heaven's door I'm sureWe don't need no doctor to feel much betterLet me inForever and ever and ever and ever
I sat on a mountainside with peace of mindAnd I lay by the oceanMakin' love to her with visions clearWalked the days with no one nearAnd I return as chained and bound to you
Damn, I wish I was your loverI'll rock you till the daylight comesMake sure you are smilin' and warmI am everything, tonight I'll be your motherI will do such things to ease your painFree your mind and you won't feel ashamed
Shucks, for me there is no otherYou're the only shoe that fitsI can't imagine, I'll grow out of itDamn, I wish I was your lover
Just open up I'm gonna come insideI wanna fill you up I wanna make you cry(Damn I wish I was your lover)Gettin' on the subway and I'm comin' uptown(Damn I wish I was your lover)Standin' on a street corner waitin' for my love to change(Damn I wish I was your lover)
Feelin' like a school boy, too shy and too young(Damn I wish I was your lover)Open up I wanna come inside, I wanna fill you up, I wanna make you cry(Damn I wish I was your lover)Gettin' on my camel and I'll ride it uptown, ooh(Damn I wish I was your lover)Hanging around this jungle, wishing that this
(Copied from MetroLyrics.com) 





{I had never actually known any of the lyrics - outside the title. Damn, this was kinda racy.}


Peace
--Free