this day of mine

today was just another ordinary day?
Just like all those other days that blur into each other to create my life.
today i finished rereading lkh's skin trade, ate a couple meals, washed a few loads of clothes, went to work, came home, kissed my husband, and here i sit
typing about
this day of mine.
i'm not depressed, i'm not upset, i'm not melancholy
but i'm not jolly, cheerful , or merry either.
someplace between the two i guess,
drifted into nothingness,
not caring either way,
no big deal
this simple bland day.
that in itself is an accomplishment of sorts.
august 8,1995,
the day my father died.
the fact that it had no effect on me at all,
is a relief, a blessing, almost a cleansing.
no anger, no tears, no memories hovering just beneath the surface.
partly because i started the day reading, allowing my mind to become completely absorbed into another world.
but when i closed the cover of the book and placed it back on the shelf again everything was okay. everything was as it should be.
my life is not perfect, but it's damn close.
life is good, getting better every day.
and i'm grateful

peace to all

i went to a 'diversity and inclusion' training session for work today. my first thoughts were happy ones. free money, pay me to sit and do nothing, instead of listening to all the bitchy people at work. i could handle that.

i never expected to enjoy it as much as i did. it was a mini-crash course in how to positively reinforce and encourage co-workers to help enhance their work production and performance. it was a very simple and basic explanation of how to "work well with others" despite our differences and try to make everyone feel like they are part of the money making team.

who do we include? who do we exclude? and why?
when i was going over the inclusion list in my head i felt comfortable with my check list of people. i was already doing a lot of the things they suggested. but than again it was all very simple, you know, basic human kindness, individual respect, listening...

there is this one guy at work, he drives everyone bonkers, annoys all the other employees constantly. This guy has OCD tattooed on his forehead. But upper management loves him because he has a place and a purpose in the company. he is Mr. Fund raiser. he sells more donation balloons than anyone else in the entire state. In an average 8hr shift he sells 75 to 100 one dollar balloons.

he' s a jabber jaw. he talks and talks and talks some more. he tells all the corny jokes, puns, and oddest story's that seem to never end nor have a point or punch line to them. All the other employees avoid him because they know once he opens his mouth to speak he won't close it till he's driving home.

i've sat with him on occasion in the break room and try to guide the conversation away from the jokes and it always ends up back to the same topic: the children's hospital balloons. in my chats with him i found out that he also volunteers at the children's hospital, again something to do with the balloons, keeps a running tally of all his collected donations, and even sends out little thank you cards to those people who donate over a certain amount in a year. he also shared with me that at his last birthday party (50+) he asked all his guests not to bring gifts but instead to buy donations balloons for the children's hospital. this guy simple eats, drinks, and lives for these donation balloons.

when i learned all this i was amazed and it changed my opinion of him. yes he is still the worlds worst joke and story teller that i have ever listened to, he still has OCD: all bills face this way, everything is total and tally perfectly, same bat station, same bat time...
and i know that his balloon sales are a tool he uses to help keep focused. but what amazed me about him was that he managed to change something that can often be debilitating and turned it around to be a productive way to give back and help mankind. whether it was intentially or not i haven't a clue. my rose colored glasses wants to believe it so.

my step sister was an inspiration to me while i was growing up. she was my ruler that i measured my quality of life by. i could walk, i could talk, i could use my mind and my body. i could grow and i could change and i could make my life better. she could do none of those thing but still confined in her chair with no way to communicate she could feel love. i would sit with her, hold her hand, whisper in her ear, and she would responded to me.

i was young when i first met her, still in grade school. i pictured her mind and spirit as being trapped somewhere between heaven and earth. She was living in this world but still connected to heaven. i use to push her wheel chair, move it back and forth, hold her hands like we were dancing, and singing along to music. she had the biggest brightest smile and her entire face would light up with joy. she was beautiful.

my step-sister was a "Make a child's dream come true" kid. i don't remember all the details exactly. i know she did get her dream, or as much of a dream as she could have in her condition
and a big part of the reason why was because of people just like this goof-ball guy at work constantly collecting money by selling those donation balloons at the grocery checkout.

i'm very empathic. i don't want to bond with him. if i ask, if i know his whole story i will. i can feel it lingering in the air all around him. some days it's so heavy, it sits in his eyes like a tangible touchable entity distancing him from the rest of the world. i can feel enough to know he is beyond my fortune cookie, quick fix approach. my instinct tells me to leave this one alone.
so i do.

Regardless to his reasons why he does what he does,
i'll always be grateful for the efforts of
this goofy guy at work
helping disabled children.

of course, i'm not suppose to label him goofy,
socially challenged maybe?

diversity and inclusions.
live and let live

3am

my mind it still spinning, it is so late,
perhaps too late.
i keep looking back over my shoulder, wondering if the steps taken where....
see it's late, perhaps too late...
to be worrying and wondering and playing the 'what if' game.
at this time between the sleeping and the wake,
3am.
flip the coin dear girl.
roll the dies
play a hand
winner takes all
take a chance
risk
go out on a limb
trust yourself
believe
live
love
touch
feel
know
peace

tossed salad

imprints and impression of experiences
leaving traces
tracks on our body, mind and spirit,
combinations blending together,
people, places, things,
make up who we are
explain why we are able
to constantly grow and change
throughout our entire life,
it’s a never ending process.
no days are wasted
regardless to our conscious opinion
of how it was
today

her dime, my time

I’m in the middle of a writing project, decided I wasn’t going to give up on it and I’m not. I have postponed and put off for years. If I stop now I will never do the actual work to make the dream happen. This is my goal I set for myself; write every day, even if it is only one line added, or one word edited. I will finish all my stories. So by day I work on my W-2 form and by night and any other time I write. The only person that can make all my dreams come true is me. if I want my life to change I am the only person that can change it. I have to stop listening and wondering and worrying about the thoughts and opinions of others. I have to follow my own light, my own instinct, my own path. I will do this for me. I will do this for the little girl that I use to be, that dreamed about what her life would be like when she grew up. She fought for my life. I will not take a free ride and just float the rest of the way home on her dime.

My training continues.

my pissology 101 class began today.
i was promoted at work and am now official a CSM or customer service manager.
my job description?

i still don't have a clear picture in my head, just like when i started as a lowly cashier, every person involved in your training tells you a different way of doing something.
which of course i hate. just tell me the fuck what i'm suppose to do and i will do it, but don't tell me one way this day and another way on tuesday.

fuck me. i was exhausted by the end of my shift but it was the most unusual and interesting day i have had thus far.

today i stood in an extremely small room, maybe 5' by 5' and listened to six angry women try to sort out their issues of blah blah changes and blah blah quotas not being met. was this a department meeting or a bitch session?
i could see both sides clearly, i know what needs to be done, i'm the peacemaker, it's my job to make happy people where ever i go.

they told me we were equals. we shall soon see.

"so how's that been working out for ya?"

I am a people pleaser.

I always try to please all the people that I find myself surrounded by at any giving minute in time which is not only an impossible task but a very damning one. I will never be able to make every person that travels in and out of my life happy.
In the end, I know I’m doomed to be a failure. Because not only is it impossible for me to ‘make’ people happy but also it is equally impossible for me to keep them in this constant state of bliss 24/7.
Realistically I know this is impossible, but still I try.

I should have been born with a magic wand so I can bounce around from place to place granting miserable people happy minutes. Yeah, just like on TV, don’t waste your happy minutes dear…

Fuck me, fuck you, and fuck your damn bitch too!
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Why can’t I do anything for myself without feeling guilty or selfish or greedy or wrong?

I never answer my phone, I treat my family and friends like shit, ignore them all for months at a time, than become annoyed with them for actually having the nerve to miss me. I’ve spent my entire life trying desperately to not need anyone.

“So, how’s that been working out for ya?”
Well, let me think….
(Jeopardy theme music is playing in the background)
Realistically I know this is impossible, but still I try.

Why is it so important that people are happy around you?
Happy people rarely throw things,
like hammers at your grandmother
dishes at your mother
food at your siblings
rocks at your dog
Happy people rarely
Beat your mother till she can’t get up from the floor
Beat your sisters till their bloody noses swells and her teeth chip
Beat all your dogs till they “run away”
Beat everyone in your house; except for you.
Happy people don’t scream
In your face with horrid beer breathe
At the police when they pull you over for drunk driving.
Break, damage or destroy every material possession that is important to you, just to prove that the shit really isn’t yours

Winks from a monster, Angry jealous glares, battered and bloody faces, these are the people you love.


Right now, I’m working on making myself happy. I recently enrolled in the “Fuck you! I’m a self bitch school”
Realistically I know it’s impossible, but still I try.

And yes, I did spend some time with my mother yesterday,
Does it show?