Needed: A Purpose and a Hammer

It's comin' up a flood outside and here I am without a stockpile of pliable wood and no message from God. Damn...

Breaking Up Really Isn't Hard To Do

I haven't written anything in months. I'm ashamed of myself, really. Blank pages intimidate now instead of provoking me to fill them with whatever inane dribble that fills the catacomb of my mind. What happened?

I can faintly hear my muse. She never left, she only bides her time waiting on me to pull my shit together and get back in the game. She's particular about the company I keep. I've purged myself of undesirables. Perhaps that's why she's whispering to me once again.

My days are proudly wearing now. Hope is something I typically don't allow myself. Its always been a privilege for others but never applicable to me. Disappointment doesn't strike me as deeply as it once did. Its blade has dulled and shrank in lieu of a more suited affliction; happiness.

I don't know why I always decide to write in the early hours of the morning when sleep escapes me and the only thing that keeps me company is the hum of electronics. Everyone else is sleeping soundly as one should at six a.m. Why am I awake?

Regardless, I'll find my way back here more often and remain faithful to this lifelong romance.

So, Where's My Net?

I should be asleep. Typically when I post, that's the first and final phrase that runs through my mind.

I used to write constantly about my idea of love and what it would be like if I were to experience it (or not, whatever the case may be.) Needless to say, I'm doggy-paddling quickly to the deep end. What have I found?

Well, I'm not sure. I have experienced unequivocal bliss and heart-wrenching pain. I catch myself doing what I swore I never would. Never give anyone all of yourself, I would say, because you'll have nothing left. Was I right?

I have no idea. I'm fearful that I was correct in that observation because I have, fully, given myself over to someone and now he has the ability to crush me. I regret it sometimes. I wish I could have remained resolute in my outlook on the horrid nature of other people... but I didn't. I ask myself constantly if it was a mistake and if this will be my undoing or...

my catalyst for change. I suppose only time can tell and I hope that time is a kind mistress.

I'm grateful its only twenty-four hours...

Today was odd. Not odd in that way which warrants thrusting your hand into the nearest garbage disposal but odd because it felt wrong. It wasn't a headache or any other normal body pain that plagues most of us. It just seemed as if the entire day was a rough draft. Unfinished, unpolished, and shitty. Hopefully, its cut from the final product.

BFFH 2

BFFH 2

BFFH - 2
Requiem for my patience.

"What do you mean I didn't get my holiday pay?!?!"

"You were scheduled to work the day after and well, you didn't" says the manager type, fearing the worst (he plans ahead, this one)

"That's absurd! I was sick!", white-knuckling the hammer in my hand.

"I never got a doctor's excuse from you so I have to go by what I know.", he bumbles, displaying the first signs of a stroke or perhaps readying himself for the blow to the skull.

"A doctor's note you say? So if I get this note, I'll get paid then?", I say, trying to recall where I put the stamp I stole from the drawer in my shrink's desk.

"Yeah, I suppose you could."

I smell defeat. Blood in the water.

"Very good, give me an hour"

I grab my coat and head for the door, knocking over the precariously perched cup of coffee on the power supply near his desk and slam the door.

BZZZZT

I hope he didn't need his desktop for anything today. Meh, a small price to pay for a skip to my step.

*1 hour and 30 minutes later*

"I gave you an hour, you've been gone over an hour and a half" He burbles.

"No... I've been gone 4 cigarettes, 1 comic section, 3-15 minute phone calls, and a snow cone"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing... I have that note."

I hand him the crisply folded note that smells of kibble.

"Why is there a dog on the letterhead?" He asks and looks at me with that vacant expression I've came to love.

"What? Oh, he really likes animals." I say while looking at his caramel coated powercord.

"Well, I suppose everything is in order so I'll send off your holiday pay."

"That's splendid! I'm going to take a break for a while and wash your car."

"Wash my car? Why?"

"Will windex remove pig's blood?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind, you should be more careful when you drive. Pigs running about unattended, you should be ashamed"

"Go back to work"

"I am working"

"I think I may call your doctor, just so I know this is legit."

"Suit yourself. I wouldn't bother him right now though, he seemed busy when I went into his office. Of course, this is the breeding season."

"Excuse me?"

"Nevermind all that, make sure I get paid."

*Slam*

He rings the number on the letterhead...

"Southwest Drive Animal Hospital, how can I help you?"



He said "A" doctor, I can only go by what I know. :D


-Disclaimer- All people, actions, and animals contained herein are completely fictional and sputtered thoughts from the mind of the author. No one was harmed during the creation of this dialogue (unless, of course, I don't get my holiday pay)

BFFH 1

BFFH 1

This was my first whack at these, written perhaps 5 or 6 months ago...



B.F.F.H. *Passing the buck, a lost art*


First of all, today I go into work...late, well not really late, but late nonetheless, only to be greeted by the smiling face of my co-worker who has just put in her notice. Ah, admiration and the green-eyed monster of envy. She tells me how the meeting with the manager type went and how she couldn't wait to leave. I hate her! So instead of doing what Nena usually does in this situation (telling her that she is leaving me at ground zero and how many different ways she could shove her laptop into her ass) I decided to play the non-confrontational card. Lo and behold it actually works to my advantage, so I shove the card back into the box for future use. She proceeds to tell me how many perks she has at this new job and how her schedule will be flexible and that she can kiss my... wait, that's not what she said... moving on...

While she is going into horrid detail about her new office the phone rings... bear in mind here, this IS 9:30 in the morning, and I am anything but a morning person... being that as it is I stroll to the phone and say, "Frame shop" (careful to never give my name in case of incident) The voice on the other end ever so timidly says, "Yes, I'd like to see if my framing order is ready." Since I'm feeling particularly helpful today, I say, "Name?" She gives me her name (and spells it, because I'm that stupid) I look and *gasp* it's not finished. I wait a few more minutes hoping the Muzak that is playing in her ear for the past 10 minutes will numb the shock of what I'm about to tell her.

I go into the break room and grab a soda, gab at the older women who work there and then finally make it back to the phone. I pick up the receiver and say, "Ma'am?" she replies with, "Yes?" and I say in my most cynically sympathetic voice, "Seems your order isn't completed as of yet, we are short handed and very high volume, but I would be happy to call you as soon as it is completed." I pause, (job well done) While I'm patting myself on the back she breaks up my self congratulatory parade with "That's not my problem" *Oh! Feisty!* So I tell her I'm going to connect her to the manager and then hang up. Apparently this wasn't sufficient enough for her and she actually calls back. Instead of asking for framing she goes straight for the jugular...she asks for the manager type.

A few moments later, the manager type strolls back into the frame shop with quite a displeased look upon his face. Me being the caring person I am...ignored his presence and finished my soda. He looks at me and asks if I just talked to L**** S*******. I stare at him blankly *A look I have perfected in my years there* and claim complete ignorance. So he goes into detail about what she told him. Instead of letting him ramble for 20 minutes or more, I interrupt him mid-sentence to tell him that I do recall my co-worker mentioned her and that he should talk to her.

Seems this was sufficient enough to allow me time to nap behind my table while he tracked her down. I detest pissy customeres especially when they are complaining about a FRAMING order being a day late. This isn't your car, your child or your kidney...get a handle on yourself.

*All events, people, and napping contained in this entry are completely fictional and are in no way related to or taken from any real events*
(My raise time is coming up soon)

The Memories of a Romantic

(Written by me 2 years ago)

After a "conversation" I had with my ex husband last night, I've came to a conclusion. Other than being thankful we are divorced and his inane babble only has to be heard by me on rare occassions and I always have the option to hang up; Republicans, for the most part, are heartless swine. They go through their entire lives reading statistics and resting completely on logic and reason (or their version of). Much like drones, they are incapable of accepting the views of others no matter how much "sense" they make. I recall a group of people who accepted the actions of their leader no matter how inhumane it was: I think they were called Nazis.

He also informed me that the way I'm raising Morrigan will cause her to become a victim in every definition of the word. I suppose feeding her soul and her heart will lead her to tragedy. But what splendid tragedy that could be! She will live not exist. She will love wholeheartedly. She will feel what I cannot and harbor compassion for all of mankind. What a beautiful creature she is. So different from him. He's cold and uncaring and reflects nothing but his own angst and bigotry. He changes who he is depending on who he is fixated with at the time. That is the true tragedy. Not knowing who you are... I can't imagine that fate. Aren't we all destined for tragedy in some form or another? My tragedy is that I forgive too often and forget more often still. I don't understand the uncaring nature of man or it's selfish acts. I want to live my own story.
--------------------
Last night, Morrigan and I danced in my basement to the soundtrack of moulin rouge. She started laughing so hard she fell in the floor and kept giggling. We danced and sang for almost an hour and a half, loudly and not caring for anyone who heard us. For that period of time, I could recall what being a child was like. To live completely in the moment. To love, laugh, sing and dance. That's elation I couldn't create on my own. She is my reminder that all of the anger, mistrust, and injustice in the world is not that important. In that moment, we were the only two people who existed...us and the music.

She stood in front of the full length mirror that stands in my living room and said,"Momma, I'm beautiful. I have brown hair and brown eyes and so do you. My friend Alicia has brown skin, she's beautiful too. Everyone is a different color, aren't they? Alicia looks like her mommy too."

This statement from her shocked me although I'm not sure why. So simply put and so honest. I told her,"Everyone is different, Morrigan. Even you and I. That's what makes us who we are. There is no normal, you should never want to be anyone but who you are. Everyone is amazing in their own right and we all have our part in the world."
She just looked at me and smiled and then said,"Yeah, I thought so. Mommy, are you happy?" and I said, "You make me happy." and she responds with, "No, I know I make you happy but when I'm not here, what makes you happy?" I said, "The idea that there is beauty in the world that will find me one day." again she smiled and said,
"Do you want to be in love?"
I didn't know what to say, amazing how a 4 year old child can ask the most abrasive questions in the most well meaning way.
"I don't think I'm cut out to be in love, Morrigan"
She frowned at me and said,
"Like the phantom?"
Again, stunned completely
"What do you mean?"
She looked back in the mirror and covered half of her face with her hand and simply said,
"He loved Christine, didn't he? But she didn't love him. There was something wrong with his face and he could be mean and she didn't understand why. His face wasn't so bad, mommy. Someone could have loved him and thought he was beautiful."
I was amazed by this, and at a loss for words. She noticed I didn't say anything about it and looked at me and said,
"It's alright mommy, sometimes you have to know what to see."