Tidbits

I just spent 10 minutes staring at the white space in which we enter our blog post.  I felt like writing and had tons of ideas to write about.  In fact, I constantly think about writing about this or that during the day but when I get home I just sit.

My mom has been on my mind a lot lately.  Probably because of the season and my upcoming birthday and this and that....

Probably.....

I also wonder if she will make an appearance this year.  We used to joke about my great Grandmother Maude playing with the Christmas ornaments on the tree every year.  It is weird type of thing with us.

Anyway...

I spoke with my son tonight.  He was full of positive energy for a change which was refreshing.  I think he is seeing the light at the end of the semester and is looking forward to the break and to coming home for awhile.

I should be drafting my Christmas letter or something but I haven't the faintest idea as to what to share with everyone.  The sad thing about Facebook is that everyone basically sees what I do on a daily basis and there really isn't much to tell.  

I had a thought to write up a story of some profound giving tale or something holiday-ish.  One year I did write an entire fake life event sort of thing just to change things up.  It is just how I roll.

I just realized that I have been sitting here staring at the screen again. 

I also realized that I have used the letter "I" to start the last several paragraphs.  How narcissistic of me....

HA!

That last bit was sort of inside joke with myself.  

Now I am wondering why you are still reading....

Bed, I should go there and sleep.

Mom's Curlers

"Do you know where your mother's curlers are?"

The question took me off guard.

My step dad called and asked me where my mom's rollers were.  Mom died several years ago from lung cancer.  My sister and I went through all of her stuff at his request and tossed what we tossed and kept what we kept.

I thought it was a strange question.  So I made a smart ass comment...

"Are you planning on making a change?"

He didn't even chuckle.

His girlfriend wanted to have her hair curled.

I sat on the other end of the phone...stunned.

Why would anyone want to use a dead woman's curlers?

I must admit that I struggle daily with the loss of my mom.  But I knew that my step dad was going to move on.

The problem is that I don't think he understands my own grief.  He doesn't understand that things he randomly does or say regarding my mom really bothers me.

It was very very difficult to see another woman sit at my mom's table and even more difficult to watch her sleep in my mom's bed.

(My eyes sting when I typed that just now)

The first time I met the girlfriend, she was sitting topless at the kitchen table right where my mom had her coffee.  I wanted to vomit and run.

The thing with the curlers is that my mom always set her hair.  She used those black rollers with the bristles and the plastic pointy pins and once her hair was up, she wrapped it in a red bandanna.

I could never figure out how in the hell did she sleep with those things in her hair.

In the morning she would take out the rollers and tease her hair until it was mad and sky high in the hair.  Sometimes I wish I had a picture of that sight.

I don't think that I can ever go visit the house ever again.  It is just like my mom was erased from a sketch and you can see the blurred lines just barely.

Grief is a weird emotion.

Pain Caused by Heartbreak Can Leave Scars

The following "poem" was a free write I did back in 2008.  I found it while I was looking for something else.

I met Mike in 2006 and we fell in love and then he disappeared.  With no rhyme or reason or explanation.  He just disappeared.  Sometime in 2009 I heard from him again.  His sweet talk and lovey dovey crap came at me like a freight train.  I was cautious and eventually pushed him away and out of my thoughts.  I really haven't thought much about him since then and I found this.

The emotional turmoil that the man left me in was something I have never experienced before in my life.  I think this may be way I am so guarded against having serious relationships now.

Pain caused by heartbreak can leave scars.

(apologies for the hard language in the photo.....it fit the emotion at the time of the writing)

God, I miss you.

I hate how it feels to miss you.

I had always expected to be friends.

Then love came oh so unexpected.

You said you loved me first and patiently waited until I loved you next.

To you I was beautiful.

I only wanted to be beautiful to you.

You asked me why I was crying.

I didn't want to tell.

You said I would see you again.

You lied...I think.

Months passed and seasons changed.

You left me with questions without obvious answers.  Subtle shades of grey cloud my reasoning.

I blame myself most of the time.

What did I say?

You know, I see you in my dreams.  Haunting me, taunting me...

Standing there.

I try to push you away.

I try to kick you out.

You are always there.

In my heart, on my mind...

I told you with tears that my biggest fear was losing you.

You assured me that it would never happen..

I am afraid that it already has.

Goodbye my lover...

Stingy

I haven't written in awhile.

I do miss it and during random parts of my day, I think...."I should blog about that".

Then I get home, exhausted, hungry and uninspired.

It is sad but I always say that if I don't come home from work tired, I didn't do my job right.

Anyway, that isn't why I decided to write.

I have realized that I have become very stingy with my free time.  I see many people every day.  I talk to strangers.  I help them find what they are looking for.  I talk to my coworkers.  I help them every day with this and that.

When I get home.  I want my time.

It is kind of weird.

I sometimes don't even want to talk on the phone.

Time is something that I don't have much of.

On my days off, I like to sit and do my own thing.  I have even pulled out my beads and crap to start working on my creative jive again.

On another thought....isn't stingy a funny word?

Life's Little Inconveniences

I always hesitate to post "Worst Day Ever" as my status on Facebook.

I had a few things go wrong today that caused me to question my sanity and a higher power as to why I was the chosen one today to receive such interesting events to happen.

I didn't cry about anything so there's that.

I did happen to loose my keys at the gas station this morning about 6 AM.  My keys slipped out of my hand and fell to the pavement and rolled in between the pump and the cement.  The crack was only about an inch wide but my bulky keys wanted to show the world that they were thin enough to fit.  The attendant came out with a screwdriver and attempted to fish them out only to push them deeper and out of sight.  *sigh*

I got a ride back to my apartment to get the spare key.  While we were riding, I was using the new app on my phone to transfer money from one account to the other in order to pay for the gas.  In my panic, I managed to lock my account up tighter than a drum and there was no money for gas.  I then had to call my son to come and pay for my gas.  *sigh*

Still not the worst day ever though....

There's more.....

I arrive at work about 45 minutes late which throws off my morning mojo.  I scrambled to get my routine on track.  I then discovered the bin of rotten watermelon.  There were 45 rotten melons to be exact.  These melons had to be hauled out to the organic bin.  We have someone pick up the organics for a compost pile.  Anyway, while I was tossing melons, one decided that I was way too clean in my white shirt and tan pants and exploded in a glory of watermelon vomit and stench.  *sigh*

At lunchtime, I called my bank to unlock my account.  This took about half my lifetime (kidding) to remedy.  Of course, the locked account caused my child support to be delayed and this left me with no lunch money.  *sigh*

I ended up working longer to make up for the morning.  When I left work, I went to the wrong spot to fetch my car.  I parked on the OTHER side of the lot today. Why????  Lord, only knows....

I started thinking about telling everyone that I had the worst day ever.  But did I really?

You would think my worst day would be when my mother passed away or when I fell off the ladder and busted my leg all to hell.  But no, these aren't the worst days. 

I didn't die.  The world didn't implode.  The moon didn't crash into the sun.  

I honestly don't think there is such a thing as the worst day ever.

These are just life's little inconveniences.

Are You Appreciated for the Work that YOU Do?

I am still using my son's laptop with the touchy keyboard.  I hope I can finish this post without giving up.  I also hope that the typos are minimal.

I think I have posted before about loving what I do.

To recap:

When I lost my last job I made a list of all the jobs I have had since I was 12ish.  I circled my top three favorite jobs, two were food service work and the third was Walmart. 

I applied at the local store and was interviewed and hired so fast....my head spinned.  I accepted the position of Sporting Goods sales associate.  I loved every second of it.  I loved the Black Friday insanity.  I loved the Christmas chaos.  I loved watching sales ebb and flow with the changing months.  I also learned.  I earned full time status.  I earned sick time, vacation time, stock options, retirement plan and paid holidays.  I earned employee of the month and I also earned a promotion.

I worked very hard for everything I earned.  I haven't even been there a whole year yet.

I love every tiring second of it.

I manage produce. 

Produce is not for pansies.

It is super hard work, physically and mentally.

I know, you are rolling your eyes.

pfft....

Walk a day in my worn out shoes.

Anyway....

Time came again for a "promotion" of sorts.  I put my name in, was interviewed for the position and was offered the position.

Of course I accepted (yay me!)

But....

I must note here that the one thing that is consistent with Walmart is change.  This is nothing new to me.

A week or so after I accepted the new position, the job duties changed.

It weighed heavy on my mind.  

The new position would not be as challenging as my current one.  The rate of pay would not change.  

I had a heart to heart discussion with the store manager and an assistant manager.  I decided to keep my current position.

I am NOT afraid of hard work.

But....this is not the whole point of this blog entry.

In all of my years of working, I have never ever been so appreciated for what I do.  I don't get a mass email form my supervisor "thanking me for all that I do".  When an email goes out to the whole team, you kind of realize that he is doing that because it is required of him.  It doesn't motivate, it makes you feel less of a valued employee (at least I felt that way).

I didn't just get a 2% yearly raise, I have increased hourly wage by 50% in less than a year.  I make more money now than I have in the last 7 years.

I received a quarterly bonus for the first time ever.  I worked for a billion dollar corporation and didn't even receive a Christmas bonus.

Speaking of Christmas bonuses, we get 20% off our purchases just before Christmas.

I don't sit and wait for someone to hand me something to do.  I don't spend countless hours bored out of my mind behind a desk, waiting for the phone to ring or a quote to be done.  I take ownership of what I am responsible for and I make it happen.

Appreciation can go a long way for an employee.

Take the time, thank them personally.  Give them responsibility.

As an employee, earn what you deserve.  Don't expect it to just fall into your lap.

If you think your job sucks, then it will.

Is There a Flag for That?

I am just frustrated with my country and most of its people these days.

I am not gay nor am I getting married so I just don't give a shit about who can get married or not.  I honestly don't think anyone should get married these days.  Love shouldn't be bound by a piece of paper.

I also think that it isn't 1862 and I don't live in the South.  I don't give a shit about flags.  I really don't.  If it offends you, get over it.  Strong odors offend me, you don't hear me bitching about that.

Good grief people.

There is so many other things that should be a concern other than what other people are doing or what offends them.

I work hard everyday.  I like what I do.  I don't complain about bruises and tired arms.  What bothers me is that I what I make per hour isn't even enough to throw me over the poverty level.  I also don't qualify for aid or help.  I have kids to support and bills to pay.

Why can't we fix that?  Why can't we have poor people parades?  Why can't poor people wave a freaking flag?

Don't even get me started on affordable health care.  I pay for my health insurance and I also have medical bills thanks to my affordable health care.  I would like to hear a valid definition of what is considered "affordable".

Seriously...

America has so many homeless people.  America has so many unemployed.

I see so many kids these days post with poor grammar and spelling.  They can't do basic math.  I don't even think they learn history to even understand the issues today and where they stem from.

Why can we fix that?

Crazies are toting guns into places and shooting whoever they please.  I hear cries of gun control.  What about controlling the crazies?

Why does this happen?  Where is the flag for that?  How about a parade?

Why does no one really care about the important things?

I honestly think our priorities are in the wrong places.

Anger in Grief

I haven't blogged in awhile.

My laptop took a crap and I am using my son's, which isn't the easiest to use.  As I type, the cursor moves around and typos happen.

I also haven't had much to say.  Who wants to hear about my adventures in fondling tomatoes and inspecting bananas?

Anyway....

This time of year is graduation.  It is a happy time for families and students.

As I scrolled through my Facebook feed the other day I came across a photo of my aunt and uncle with their granddaughter.  I teared up suddenly.  My aunt looks so much like my mother.  The same salt and pepper hair, the same shape face.  I starred at the photo.  My cousin's daughter reminds me of my own with long brown hair and a wide smile.  I cried.

My mother died a few years ago from lung cancer.  I never really sobbed over it.  I don't think I grieved like you would imagine what grieving would be like.  It is weird and hard to explain.  I just expected to break down but I never did.

Back to the photo...

I think my tears came from anger.  I am angry at my mom for dying.  It is such a raw and real emotion.  It came from just picturing my own mother and daughter on Kate's graduation day.  This will never happen.

I used to think my mom would be around to share in my children's life events.

I think what angers me the most is that she was so selfish to not see a doctor sooner or to take better care of herself.  She admitted that she hadn't seen a doctor of 17 years prior to the cancer diagnosis.

Maybe is a normal feeling to be angry.

I also think I am thinking more of missing my mother because I have been through some rough times over the last couple of years.  There are times I wish I could just call her.  She had a way of talking you off the ledge and give you a sense that everything will be ok.

Sigh...

Crapload of Easter Candy

I will openly admit that I hate Peeps.  You know, those marshmallow, yellow, squishy bird like sugary things that only come out for Easter.

Why just Easter and who in the hell eats those things?

Anyway...

Why am I blabbling on about Peeps?

I worked at another store today because they have a crapload (big backroom hallway full) of Easter candy and no where to put it.

Well, John and I found places to put it but there is still a crapload there.

I worked twelve hours today (well 11 hours because I clocked out for lunch).

Yeah, long day at another store about an hour away.

It was tiring but good.  I welcomed the opportunity to go and do this sort of thing.  I think that working hard is the only way to climb the ladder.

I know, ladders and I don't mix.  (Guess you need to know a story behind that, but that is another blog).

My goal is to climb the ladder.  My whole thing about returning to Walmart after 20 years is because I loved it so much the first time (stupid reason for quitting).  I should have never left.

It makes a big difference when you enjoy what you do because it makes long, exhausting days so much easier to deal with.

So on that note.....

Bed is calling 

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzpeepsblechzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Nightly Ramble

Feeling a bit busy these days.  Not sure why though.  I guess my work schedule is always changing and I come home always exhausted.  This is a good thing though.  I work hard because I really want to do a good job and go places.  

I lost Oscar on February 10th.  Oscar was one of my guinea pigs.  He was a funny, curious boy that continued to make me laugh.  He was the only one who would sit at the bottom of the stairs and wheek at them for no apparent reason.

He will be missed.

I don't deal with death very well.  I understand that it is part of life.  I just can't be around dead bodies.  It doesn't matter if it is human or animal.  It is not how I want to remember them by.  I like to remember their live selves.  I am just weird like that.  I didn't see my mom.  She was cremated before the funeral.  I wasn't there when she passed away.  This is good because I just remember her alive.

I am rambling.

I tend to do that.

I also talk to myself sometimes.

My daughter always asks why I talk to the guinea pigs or the cat.  I tell her that it makes me seem less crazy.  lol

Anyway, sorry that this isn't mind blowingly awesome but it will have to do.  I am tired and I have to work in the morning.

Mind Dump

I dreamt of my mother last night.  It was a weird dream that included racks of clothing.  A sales person in knee high boots and a carnival act in the parking lot of a store that included large inflatable clowns and a child.  My mom and I were shopping (I guess) and on the way out we saw the clown act with the child and I elbowed her and nodded to the act and she shrugged.  No words were exchanged.  Then the alarm went off and that was that.

Weird huh?

The dream probably means something deep down.  What is strange that I remember the dream so vividly from about 12 hours ago.

I dream of my mom here and there.  I also dream of my grandparents too.  Not always all together and not always every night.

Things have been changing around here.  My daughter's dad and I decided to enroll her in a private Lutheran school here in town.  We are hoping that this helps with social issues and also we hope that it gives her a challenge with her school work.

I was against the transfer at first.  I am not overly religious and I worried about how much it would cost.  

We took a tour of the school and once inside the church sanctuary, I had this overwhelming feeling of being home.  

I used to go to church frequently with my friends.  I liked to sing the hymns.  I liked to listen to the messages given.

Some where along the way, I lost my faith.  I began to question my beliefs.  I just gave up on believing on anything.  I stopped praying.  
After taking the tour, I have been thinking about revisiting the church and maybe getting my faith back.

So there you have my mind dump....just a couple of random things rambling around my brain.

P.S.  I just reread what I wrote and my spell checker doesn't like the word "dreamt".  What the hell?

Not a Pity Party

Holy cow!  Two blogs back to back....must be something I ate, eh?

Yesterday I wrote about my feelings about love and how unlovable I feel.  I didn't write it to have myself a little pity part nor was I looking for sympathy.  I create most of my own problems and I realize that.

I wrote it because (well I write a lot of things) because I think others read it and think that they aren't alone in their own feelings.  Sometimes it is better when you don't feel so alone.

We all have our insecurities and fears.  We also have our own little glory moments and grand occasions.

This is life.

Life has struggles and life has people who just plain suck in it.  Life is funny that way.

I often wonder if around this time of year it is just harder for me.  The anniversary of my mom's death is right around the corner.  I think that it gets harder every year,

You know, the last thing I said to her ever was "I love you".  I meant it.  I called her on the day she died while she was being transferred to a bigger hospital.

You know, the last thing she said to me ever was "I love you too."  

That is pretty significant.

As much as that woman drive me insane some times, I loved her (well, I still love her).  She is my mom.  She will always be my mom.

I gets hard when she isn't around when life is kicking my ass.  As my sister says, "Mom always made it better."

My sister is right.

Anyway, I often think about that person who sends me anonymous notes in the mail.  Why does this person do that?  I also think about whether if it is because I write about my feelings and issues and they just seem to have their opinions.

No matter what, I will continue to write.

It is almost like therapy for me.  I sometimes refer to it as "mind dumping".  I dump out what is in my head onto the screen and hit share.

Well, this seems to be enough rambling for now.  I am tired and tomorrow is yet another day.

I Don't Love You

Those were such harsh words.

"I don't love you."

These were spoken by a guy I was dating.  I was really into him.  I enjoyed every part of being with him.  He made me feel alive.

Well....until he said that.

And those words constantly haunt me.

They were said a couple of years ago.  They appear in my dreams.  The appear in my quiet moments.  They appear when I least expect it.

The memory of those words is as haunting as any ghost.  They torment.  They hurt.

I often find myself wondering why I am not lovable.  Why would he say something like that?  Why am I so alone all the time?

When I look back to my past relationships I remember the ones who cheated, the one who disappeared, the one who gave up.  I think about why am I attracted to these men who don't respect a relationship and honor a commitment.

The only thing in common is me.  I must have the problem some how.  

I have been to counseling.  We discuss the fact that I feel so unlovable.  We relate it to my relationship with my mother and why I never felt really loved and most likely cannot have a normal relationship until I love myself.  Blah Blah Blah

I get that.

But still...

Words can be so hurtful.

Lately I feel so closed off and almost like a dog licking it's wounds.  I roll into a ball and just cry sometimes.

I should be good enough to receive love and respect but I just don't know how or where to start to find it.  I feel so dysfunctional.

And I'm angry.

I wish I knew how to fix it.  I wish I knew how to trust someone not to leave me.  I just wish I didn't have to be so alone all of the time.

We All Fail Sometimes

Funny, I sit here worried about what I say because it might trigger another hate letter in the mail from my anonymous friend (I use the word "friend" loosely here.).

I shouldn't be worried.  I shouldn't let people intimidate me because of what they think.

You know, we all fail sometimes.  It is allowed.  It is a human type thing to do.  This is how we learn.  We make mistakes.  We fail at things.

I have failed quite a bit in the last twelve months.  I am not afraid to admit it.  

“Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.” - Robert F. Kennedy

This doesn't mean that I failed on purpose.

I made an attempt at living a life I thought I wanted.  I mean, I do like living in the country and having a nice car and a good job.  But these things all came with a price.  The price was both monetary and mentally.

I am not going to rehash what I failed at.

What needs to happen is a new plan, a new vision board, a new direction.

I am sure it is going to take some time.  Rome wasn't built in a day.  Hell, I am pretty sure that it wasn't even built in a month.

I've already made a big step in going back to a job a enjoy.  I find great satisfaction in working hard, seeing results and hearing feedback on what I have done.  I enjoy talking to different people.  I find the greatest joy in this.

“Failure should be our teacher, not our undertaker. Failure is delay, not defeat. It is a temporary detour, not a dead end. Failure is something we can avoid only by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing.” - Denis Waitley 

The hardest part is going through the bad to get to the good.  

It IS all about me.

Today I came home from a long day at work.  I trudged up the stairs with my groceries, looking forward to being home in the quiet.  I even bought new candles to put that relaxing scent in the air that is recommended by the latest articles on rest and relaxation.  I trotted back down to my mailbox in the hallway since my hands were full earlier.  I made the guinea pigs their "nummies", gave Nemo the cat his head scratches and treats, then I sat down to read my emails and munch on my dinner.  

I know, I am just a bundle of excitement, don't be jealous of that.

I glanced over and remembered that I had mail.  I like getting mail for some dumb reason.  I don't even care if it is bills.  I am kind of strange like that.

I opened my letters.  I was so happy to see my new health insurance cards.  The best thing about working so hard and getting promoted to full time is the benefits for my family.

I left the bigger envelope unopened.  It didn't have a return address but it had a local postmark.  I was curious but I waited anyway.  I don't recall why.

The envelope laid on the floor next to the couch until my episode of Roseanne was over.  Did you know Netflix has Roseanne?  I love that show.

I picked it up and opened it.  There was a single piece of paper folded in three and I wondered why someone would put that in a big envelope and pay the extra postage.  Duh...

Once I unfolded the letter and saw that it was a print out of a joke that I posted on Facebook (I know, social media drama) on the 27th of December. 

"A woman just dropped a 20 dollar bill next to me.  I thought 'What would Jesus do?' so I turned it into wine... Well, I bought wine."

It was just some joke I read somewhere and it made me chuckle.  So I just shared it.

Now, I never worry about offending anyone because, Facebook is what it is. No one would post anything if that were the case.  People post the dumbest shit, me included.

Anyway, back to my story.

On the paper was a handwritten note that basically said the reason that horrible things happen to me is because I wasn't a good person and kept the $20.  Oh and, when was I going to get it, it isn't all about me.

This was NOT signed.

Ack!  Another anonymous note....

If you missed it...here's a link to the first note.

Anonymity is a Voice of Cowards

Of course this upset me.

This is such a shitty thing to do.  I mean, write a letter based on a joke that I posted assuming that I actually kept a $20 bill and bought wine.

First of all, I would not have done any such thing.

Second of all, if I had...I would have bought something a little stronger than wine.

(I kid, please don't send me a nasty note)

In all fairness, if this anonymous person knew me at all, they would understand that I do just about anything for anyone.  I have helped friends in pain.  I have loaned money to a friend when he needed help.  I have made gifts for friends fighting cancer.  I have donated my time and money for good causes.  I have rescued turtles from a busy highway.  I have send kind messages and cards to people who needed uplifting.

Now, I do things not to shine bright in the eyes of God.  I do things like this because it is the human thing to do, the kind thing to do.

The thing that really upsets me is that this person takes the time to send this anonymous, hateful thing to me and thinks that it is going to change me.  If anything, it makes me want to keep on being me.

I hate to break it to you, but it is about me.  It is my Facebook page, my blog, my little corner of the interwebs and if you don't like what I have to say, post, comment, whatever....you can kindly block me or stop reading the shit I post.  It is that simple.

I like who I am.  

Sending me a letter by mail without signing it gives it absolutely no validation in my eyes.  It is basically void.

You know, shitty things happen.  It is how life is.  I know this.

It isn't because Jesus hated my joke.  It isn't because God is causing me to suffer.

It is because it is how life is.

Do you think children suffer from cancer because they posted a joke about Jesus and $20? 

Honestly, I am not sure that Jesus would know what a $20 bill looks like.  His time was so long ago and he is from a completely different country.  

This person also assumes that I am even a believer in God, Jesus and Heaven.

Never assume anything about anyone.....

Seriously

Now, I am not admitting whether I am a believer or not.  If you truly know me and know what I am all about, you would already know the answer to this.

Also, if this person who wrote the letter to me was a true Christian, would this be a very christian thing to do?

Take a moment to think about that for a second.

This person who wrote the letter seems to be very interested in what I post, say or do.  They don't "unfriend" me or tell me that I suck and admit who they are. 

They hide behind the curtain of anonymity thinking that this will show me a thing or two.  I am assuming (I know, I shouldn't assume but I am anyway) that this is the same person that sent me the other anonymous letter back in April. 

This person is still a coward.  This person is probably the most unchristian, unhuman, unkind person I know (or not know).

If this person's goal was to hurt me, they failed.

You see, if anyone is making it all about me, it is this anonymous person.

By the way.....The police now have the letter.