This I Have Learned – 2008

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions. I believe that a change in behavior (the basis for most of these empty self-promises) can start as easily on a Tuesday in the middle of June as it can on January 1st – or 2nd… we usually don’t count New Year’s Day in our New Year’s resolutions, do we...

Since I am far better at predicting the past than the future and somewhat of a master of the obvious, here is my 2008 “This I Have Learned.” Most of this is not new, profound, nor will it provide any great epiphany - but here are things that encapsulate, for me, the year nearly past. Most are original (unless I am having plagiarized original thoughts) and the couple that are borrowed are duly noted:
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This I Have Learned – 2008

These days, it is far less important to like your job than to have one.

The dinosaurs didn’t see the asteroid coming – why should we have been expected to foresee the financial downturn? BECAUSE WE HAVE BRAINS BIGGER THAN A PEA!

Never plan more than four days in advance (thanks, Jim).

Never underestimate the stupidity of the masses (Prop 8 in CA, Amendment 2 in FL)

Never give up hope – meaningful, positive change is possible when people can no longer deny great stupidity.

Of intelligence, good looks, a sense of humor, integrity, courage, compassion, and strength, the most important is a sense of humor. It should be tempered by integrity and compassion, it takes courage and strength, it requires intelligence, and distracts people from your looks.

You can’t choose your biological family. You can either embrace them or move 1500 miles away… the 1500 mile thing is still working for me.

There is no problem so great that it cannot be resolved by a new pair of Pumas.

Life is empty without friends. Friendship must be cultivated. Not all that is cultivated survives.

Grow older gracefully, and then tell me how you did it.

While you are busy showing compassion for others, remember to save some for yourself.

Of sex, love, and rock & roll, none are overrated.

Giving a shit is hazardous to your health.

If you are deciding whether or not to toss the Holiday leftovers, get naked and look in the mirror.

What you have accomplished is far less important than who you have become.
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And with that little bit of witticism, cynicism, and observicism (I know it’s not a word, but this is my blog, damn, it) we close with a quote from a genuine wit, cynic, and keen observer of human nature – my mother:

“People are funnier than anybody.” Rosemary Helen Fanning Dezaio Palumbo -1920 - 2007

Time Will Tell

I received a rather remarkable email today. It was from my father. While for most people that may seem rather unremarkable, for me it is akin to a Christmas miracle.

For most of my life, my father and I never spoke to each other very much, and when we did, it usually was not good. There was a period when I was married where things improved – mostly because he adored my wife. When my marriage broke up, things started falling apart. When my mother passed nearly two years ago, they fell apart altogether. I did not travel for the funeral, nor could I, had I wanted to – but I did not want to because, to me, it was a violation of her very clear wishes.

Attempts at phone calls, gifts sent for Holidays… all went with no response – So I gave up. When I heard that he moved and did not tell me that he was moving or where he was, I was convinced that he wanted nothing to do with me.

Then I received an email today. I had to read it several times, but even though it said “Dad” at the end, it did not read like anything I have ever heard from him. For the first time in my life, he was reaching out to me. He wants to start anew. He even included the word “Love” in the closing – a word I have never heard from him. I don’t know if it is because of the Holidays, I don’t know if he was visited by three spirits in the night, I don’t know if he suddenly realized that he is growing older and he has no communication with his only son… but he sent it.

This presents a dilemma.

My father is probably the only person in the world (well, my world) who does not know I am gay. It is not because I am afraid of him, or ashamed of who I am… quite the opposite. It is because I know the reality of how this would hit an ultra-conservative, right wing, uber-Catholic who believes that the decline of the Catholic Church is the result of the “god-damned homos” rather than twisted pedophilic priests… plus he has a heart condition. I don’t want to be the one to push him over the edge. I also know how it would hurt him and in spite of our difficulties and differences, I do not want to cause him any hurt. But he reached out. If I am not to respond and reach back, it would go against everything I believe to the core of who I am. But I know if we begin a new relationship and if we are to achieve any closeness, the subject is inevitable unless I lie. After going through the process of coming out in my late 40’s, I am finished with the lies for this lifetime.

It was easy to avoid the subject when there was no communication. Sometimes it is easier to be angry with a difficult person because then it is their fault. But now, the ball is clearly in my court.

I wrote a response. I welcomed his note and said that I would like to start anew… and then I stared at the message for several minutes before I hit the “send” button. I did this fully aware of the implications and how his first attempt at reaching out to me could end with a lot of hurt. I don’t know what comes next.

Only time will tell.

A Christmas Story

I wrote this exactly five years ago. It was written long before my blogging days, but I am not quite sure why I never posted it. It was a time a change – I had come out just a year earlier, I was recently divorced (the two events may be related), it was my first Christmas alone… and little did I know that less than two years later, I would leave the place I was finally calling home…

Merry Christmas – may you find Home wherever you are.


Christmas In Maine December 25, 2003

I should continue wrapping gifts. The hour is late and I feel the lure of sleep, but I should put tape to paper, add bow, ribbon, and tag with some little clue of the contents before I forget what is inside the package that I just wrapped. I hate when I do that.

The soft patter of Christmas Eve rain matches an unusually pensive mood for such a festive day. I proudly convince myself that I don’t really care if it is raining - White Christmas, and all that. I suddenly realize that “White Christmas” is playing on my little radio, and shrug my shoulders in acknowledgement. Living in Maine, one has their fair share of White Christmases. I also know something of the real meaning of Christmas, and snow has very little to do with a child born over 2000 years ago in a desert. Why don’t those little glass balls with the tiny Nativity scene contain sand instead of whatever it is they use to resemble snow? When was the last time it snowed in Bethlehem? Why are they in water anyway? It’s the kind of thing that can keep me up at night…

Having wrapped all that I can with 11:00 PM drawing near, I realize it is time to leave the warmth of the fire and head out into the rain. I promised myself that I would go to Midnight Mass this year. It would be nice to say that this is some grand or noble gesture on my part, but truth be told, I really want to be as lazy as possible in the morning. I lock the front door behind me, quite unnecessarily in this sleepy bedroom town, with my usual Christmas Eve headache – a mixture of fireplace smoke and the smell of all of the boxes marked “Christmas” brought up from the basement each year with some new and exotic mold growing in them – or the same old mold… hard to say. The walk is only a few minutes; I could probably count the steps, and frankly I am surprised I have not during one of these long Maine winters.

The Church is lit from the inside looking like a life size Christmas ornament. All of the colors glowing from the stained glass windows appear as a watercolor wash through the rain, especially without my glasses on. I begin to think that Impressionistic painting was the result of bad vision. I really can’t see much without them, but I have this thing about getting my glasses wet. I can squint and stumble around well enough, so they stay stuffed in my pocket until there is no chance a stray droplet will threaten them.

Pulling open the very large and heavy wooden doors, I wonder how most of the congregation ever gets in. At 48, I am usually the junior member in attendance, and I have to give the door a good tug. Tonight, there is a much broader range in age than usual, with some considerably younger then I. It is nice to see the turnout, especially with so many younger people. Odd for so late in the day, but then again, as a child I could never sleep on Christmas Eve. As soon as I sit down and try to get handout, prayer book, and hymnbook organized so I am not hopelessly lost as usual, the music starts.

Oh my, the music. Two flutes play with a timid start, and then grow slowly bolder with the screeches that remind me of my early attempts at the flute. There are harmonies, well intentioned, with the happy accident of occasional moments of accuracy. A guitar joins in, then the piano. The piano player is clearly more skilled, to the obvious chagrin of the other three. Giving his best don’t shoot me, I’m only the piano player look, he is a polished jewel among some diamonds in the rough. I can’t help but smile.

This is pure delight for me. Coming from the highly polished, well rehearsed, and fully choreographed church services in New York, here is all of the small town Maine charm that one could ever hope to witness. The feeling is what I imagine it would be like to look through a jungle blind and be the first to see some aboriginal tribe that is yet unnamed, performing one of their ceremonies, and appearing both odd and somewhat frightening to western eyes. That is not a bad analogy for what it is like to make Maine a home when you are “from away” as they say. A charming and quirky sub-culture with its own vocabulary and a distinct way of letting you know that you are not now, nor will you ever be, like them - you will always be “from away.” Well, that’s OK; I look different too. I still dress for church as I have since childhood – I just can’t bring myself to embrace the more casual look and feel of the area. Old habits die hard and it will take a lot more than a figure of speech and the occasional sidelong scowl to kill my sartorial sensibilities.

With one chime of a single bell and soft notes from the pipe organ, the mass begins. The pastor is clearly “from away” as well. No hint of a down-east accent, his hair neatly trimmed and combed, he has a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He’s not dressed like anyone else either, but I suppose that doesn’t count. If he has any sense of not belonging to this tribe, he doesn’t let on. He greets the sea of scowls with joy in his heart and a message to match. I can’t help but think, “This poor guy really has his work cut out for him.” Through the mechanical lay readings, through all of the mispronunciations and skipped words, he keeps his smile. It’s infectious for me. Looking around, I see that this is not the general consensus. Somehow, that makes me smile even more.

Father John gives an articulate and inspired sermon. I smile and nod in assent with the parts that speak to me, which makes me an island in a sea of stoic stares. He makes it through the entire Christmas Eve mass with aplomb, and I can’t help but feel like I am the only one who gets it. Either that or the rest are smiling in some very subtle Maine “secret handshake” kind of way that I have not been let in on. Quite unlike the “Type A” cosmopolitan crowd from my own personal “away,” this group does not race for the door when the mass ends.

Suddenly, the congregation engages in what appears to be a spontaneous social event; right there among the pews. Miraculously transformed, here are the smiles, the camaraderie, the questions and answers about loved ones, the whispers of gossip, and all of the Christmas cheer I never would have seen had I not come tonight.

Father John, still smiling, is standing by the back door ready to greet the assembled townsfolk as they exit, but it looks like it may be some time before that happens. I put on my coat, remove my glasses for the walk back through the rain, and head for the door, now a bit out of focus. I try to think of something clever to say to the pastor, but as I approach, the thought vanishes in his arms reaching out for an embrace.

I struggle to know this town, and I am just coming to know Father John. I believe that all clergy deserve a hug for what they do, and I have never been refused. Clearly, by initiating a warm hug, Father John has come to know me. The good people of this town may never understand my strange dress and habits, but it doesn’t stop them, on what has just now turned to Christmas Day, from wishing a total stranger a sincere “Merry Christmas” on his walk home.

Even one “from away,” wet and squinting through the rain.

Rabbit in the Headlights

It seems that in most of my childhood pictures, I have that same expression on my face… and why not? Look at what they did to us. My sister looks like something out of “A Christmas Carol” (ghost of Christmas past?) and I look like Ralphie from “A Christmas Story.” Note the oversized, rather pale carrot (as opposed to the rather pale me) in its little holster. Oy…

I am guessing that this picture was taken sometime around 1959. Yes, I know… I’m old… Well, never make fun of old people – someday you will be one and I will make fun of you.

Looking at the picture made me come up with a list of:

You Know You Are Old When:

Your early life in pictures is in sepia tones

The Christmas tree has lead tinsel, big lights, and that scrunchy metal garland

You don’t remember the picture being taken (of course, this could be the result of too much fun during the late 60’s and early 70’s)

You remember the music from the Firestone Christmas Albums (yes, mes enfants, there were these things called record albums…) AND you remember your parents getting them from a gas station, when they used to pump gas for you AND at no extra cost

You like the music from the Firestone Christmas albums

You know who Mahalia Jackson is, and you know her wonderful version of “Holy, Holy, Holy”

You remember the Andy Williams Christmas Specials

You actual saw Bing Crosby and David Bowie singing “Little Drummer Boy” when it happened

You would have to wait to see if “A Christmas Carol” was on TV because there were no such things as DVD’s, VCR’s, or DVR’s

You lived through real trees, artificial trees, silver aluminum trees with color wheel (remember that?), back to real tree, back to artificial tree… let’s hope the silver tree never returns

I could go on… and I probably would but there is Cheer to spread and Merry to make…

Happy Holidays!!!

Humbuggery

Hmmm… I am sensing a lack of genuine Christmas Spirit lately. In fact, there has been outright hostility expressed about the season in general. I daresay that there is an air of humbuggery about (look it up… it’s a real word).

Sure, the economy sucks. We’re all getting older, things go wrong, blah, blah, blah… Even I (yes, it’s true) have experienced moments of “why bother.” But then it kicks into gear – my need to express exactly the opposite of what everyone else is saying; my own little oppositional defiant disorder (yes, sadly those words are real too).

Just one more negative things and I am going to… I swear… I’ll do it… OK, I was just pushed over the edge – you made me do it. You only have yourself to blame. You have gone and made me pull out one of my song parodies – and not just any song parody, one of my really, really, bad Christmas song parodies.

Vixen has made her annual appearance under our tree, so do you recall, my most infamous parody of all?


Vixen, The Drag Queen Reindeer

You know Santa’s a daddy with taste for young reindeer;
A nasty old top in a suit of red cashmere…
But are you aware
of his infamous Christmas affair?

Vixen, the drag queen reindeer
had some very shiny bling,
and if you ever saw it
you’d know she is Santa’s thing.

All of the other reindeer
used to laugh and call her fag;
they never let poor Vixen
get too close to Santa’s bag.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Santa gave a grin:
“Vixen with your bling so bright,
won’t you light my sled tonight?”

Said, all the other reindeer,
spying Santa’s after glow,
“Vixen, the drag queen reindeer
your daddy is a ho-ho ho…”

tjp 12/17/06


Now get out there and grab some Holiday Cheer! If not, I may have to post another…

‘Tis the Season

I love Christmas, but even more, I love the Christmas season. I love the smells, sights, the music, the decoration, the presents (giving and getting), even the crowded stores. The world always seems a little brighter, yet softer this time of year.

But… you knew there was a but… there is the work aspect. Since we close between Christmas and New Year, it is a short month. I am happy for the time off, and I am happier still that I get paid for it, but all of the work still has to get done. When you work in finance, there is a monthly cycle and payroll still has to happen, bills still have to be paid, financial reporting still has to be completed… add to that every cold caller trying desperately to drum up new business before the end of the year…

So when I hit a normal amount of hours for a work week sometime on Wednesday, I realized why I am so tired. I was told I could take the day off today, but if I am going to make payroll next week, someone has to do bank deposits – that would be me. I worked five hours, finished all of the processing and entry necessary to do a bank deposit, and then called it a day. I think there is a nap in my near future…

It is not going to get any easier for the remainder of the month, but I do have that time off as a light at the end of the tunnel.

I really can’t complain (although, I spent the last couple of paragraphs doing just that). I have a job, a nice place to live, a functioning car, and a wonderful, supportive, loving partner. Not everyone is so blessed.

‘Tis the season to remember these things.

Choices

Choices

How easy it is to just forget,
to slip, to slide; land in the land of regret,
open the door to those inner voices,
when all along there was a world of choices.

Things may not be easy,
things may not be grand -
but if you fall down now, boy…
where you gonna land?

Things may not be stable,
things may not be great -
but you took a chance, boy…
now you’re gonna wait?

How easy it is to slip and fall,
to stumble, fumble; press your back to the wall,
to give in to those dissenting voices,
when all along there was a world of choices.

Turning Blue

This was forwarded to me from a friend in Maine where, if you read through, you will realize is still available for lovely vacations with grand BLUE skies, beautiful BLUE lakes, and delicious BLUE ocean vistas.

The following comes courtesy of the great minds at Colby College in Waterville, Maine…


Dear Red States,

We've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking the other Blue States with us. In case you aren't aware, that includes Hawaii, California, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, New York, and all of the Northeastern states. After this election, we'll be adding Colorado and New Mexico. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, especially to the people of our new country - Nuevo California. We know this means some of our friends need to move but the move is well worth it.

To sum up briefly: You get Texas, Oklahoma and all the slave states; we get stem cell research, the best beaches, and the best ski resorts. We get the Statue of Liberty; you get Dollywood. We get Intel and Microsoft; you get WorldCom. We get Stanford, Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Cal Tech, MIT and Columbia; you get Ole' Miss. We get 85 percent of America's venture capital and entrepreneurs; you get Alabama. We get two-thirds of the tax revenue; you get to make the red states pay their fair share.

Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22 percent lower than that of the Christian Coalition, we get a bunch of happy families and you get a bunch of under-educated single moms.

Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we'll need all of our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. We do wish you success in Iraq and hope that those Weapons of Mass Destruction turn up for you, but we're not willing to spend any more of our money in Bush's Quagmire.

With the Blue States, we will control 80 percent of the country's fresh water, 90 percent of pineapple and lettuce, 92 percent of the nation's fresh fruit, 97 percent of America's quality wines (you can serve French wines at your state dinners), 90 percent of all cheese, 90 percent of the high tech industry, most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, and all the Ivy League and Seven Sister schools. We also get New England, the Great Lakes and Yosemite, thank you very much.

In the Red States, you will have to cope with 88 percent of all obese Americans and their projected health care costs, 92 percent of all U.S. mosquitoes, 100 percent of tornadoes, 94 percent of hurricanes, 99 percent of Southern Baptists, virtually 100 percent of all televangelists, and Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Bob Jones University, and Clemson.

Additionally, in the Red States, 38 percent actually believe Jonah was swallowed by a whale; 62 percent believe life is sacred unless it involves the death penalty or gun ownership; 44 percent claim that evolution is only a theory; 53 percent insist that Saddam Hussein was involved in 9/11; and 61 percent of you crazy bastards believe you have higher moral standards than those of us on the left.


Peace out,
The Blue States

Common Sense

I hate it when I’m right.

Look… I don’t claim to be perfect – far from it. But I do possess an apparently rare quality – Common Sense. As much as I love some of my co-workers, there seems to be a serious void in the common sense arena. Here is just one example…

A couple of weeks ago, someone called our office with a wonderful idea for a donation – a 20 foot Christmas tree. I overheard the conversation and was gesturing wildly, non-verbally communicating the word “NO” in every way conceivable… to no avail. When I started asking the obvious questions like “Where, exactly, are we going to put it when our ceiling is 16 feet?,” I was told that I am a spoilsport and I say no to everything. Well, yes… like to the albatross of a copier that takes up a big chunk of a tight office and now sits, not functioning, with no technical support that came with this generous donation.

There is a theme here that nobody else seems to recognize… people don’t get rid of things that are useful. But they do dump them on a non-profit organization to get a tax break. Fortunately, I have intercepted a few of these calls and said what others seem incapable of saying; “No, thank you.”

Yesterday the tree arrived. It is, of course, an artificial tree, because live ones don’t fare well in our winter heat. The poor delivery guy wheeled in a pre-decorated tree that stood about six feet tall. Everyone said that I worried for nothing… um, people… that’s the top of the tree. Then three, four foot sections came in next and the panic started. I asked if that was it, and it turned out there was one more section. Short of cutting a hole in the roof, the only alternative is putting it outside. Thinking they were being creative, my crazy co-workers suggested we stake it to the ground. When I pointed out that our “ground” outside is all brick, the real panic ensued. Some thought it was funny – I was not amused.

As the crazy people went back and forth with crazy ideas, I talked to the delivery guy and found out how the sections went together. After trying out different possibilities, we found a way to connect the bottom section into its 4’ X 4’ base (like we have room for that) and put the top piece into it – that alone, almost went to the ceiling. All excited, my crazy co-workers were about to take all of the limbs that needed to be inserted and I said “STOP!” If you take the limbs that are supposed to go in that bottom section, you will have a wide bottom and a skinny top. So we started sorting out limbs that would go into the second section – all while the poor delivery guy is still having to hang around.

When that was done, I told them I had real work to do and to have fun putting it together. I’m the finance guy, not the interior decorator. I have a board meeting coming up where I have the unenviable task of reporting on our current financial status. I walked away and went back to work, allowing the crazy people to do some crazy decorating.

This was not how I planned to spend my work day.

I can’t wait until they figure out that when it comes down after the Holidays, we have to find a place to store it…

Diligence

“…And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.”

45 years later…

We watched, we listened, we spoke, we voted, and we have overcome.

I understand that not everyone is celebrating. I live in a little blue island of a big red state. The passage of a state amendment making gay marriage, and even straight couple civil unions illegal, is a sobering reminder of how far we still have to go. But Tuesday night we took a giant leap.

The pendulum swings.

I don’t believe for a minute that prejudice is now a thing of the past. I think that some people voted in spite of their apprehension and fear. But when the fear of continued arrogance and belligerence is greater than taking a chance, a bold statement must be recognized.

Change.

The real work has just begun. It is time to turn this ship around. It is time to regain credibility with the rest of the world. It is time to prove that the apprehension and fear of the unknown was, indeed, unfounded.

Yes we can.

It seems that suddenly, there is hope and possibility, where before there was only time to wait it all out. The time is at hand and diligence is more important than ever.

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

I hope and pray that we seize this opportunity we have been given and take it to the next level.

Stop The Madness!

Arizona has the right idea.

Well, make that two ideas… one being that McCain is losing ground in his own state, the other being NO DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME!!!

Like I don’t have enough trouble sleeping as it is…

Every year we get to “spring ahead” to throwing off our internal clocks. Then we wait six months for that extra hour of sleep. Except now we have to wait longer because some damn fools decided to extend the stupidity.

This is how I see it… you wake up in the morning and it is approaching daylight (unless you live in the north woods and it is daylight at 4am), then you go about your day, and in the evening it gets dark, you get tired, and you go to bed. And the problem is???

I have heard all of the economic, antiquated, obscure, and otherwise stupid arguments for continuing this stupidity. I say “Basta!” (enough), let us join our brothers and sisters in Arizona and just say no to Daylight Savings Time (we can also advise them on how to vote next Tuesday). I say next spring, don’t do it - don’t move your clocks ahead. Show up at work late… or early, or whatever it is… you see how confusing this all is!

Thank you and get out there and vote…

Disclaimer:
This is a rant and contains no scientific studies, contains no empirical data, and really has no basis in fact whatsoever. This message has been written by and approved by me.

The Subtle Art of Avoidance

For the most part, this little four day weekend mini-vacation has been rather successful. No calls from work (so far), weather that has finally turned pleasant, and near completion of a project.

There were a couple of project to choose from, but a gentle nudge from David moved me in the direction of painting my bathroom. OK, so I started it two years ago… and your point is? Since I am getting tired of looking at the paint cans (for two years) and having no towel bar… OK, I see his point. David’s bathroom was painted shortly after we moved in. At the time, I was not yet working and it was just a couple of months after having a heart attack. The difference this time is amazing. What took a couple of weeks two years ago, has taken me three days… so far. Two primer coats to cover the Oh-my-God-is-it-still-the-sixties-orange, and application of a nice caramel colored semi gloss have been completed. That would have been it had I not chosen the “fancy Earth Elements signature series” that requires one more coat. The thought of going all around the nooks and crannies of that bloody bathroom again is about as painful as my muscles from the required squatting, stretching, and general twisting necessary to paint the most difficult room in the house.

I am one of those strange people who actually enjoys painting – I find it therapeutic. Normally, I even enjoy the smell of paint… normally. This is the worst smelling paint I have come across – ever. It has a strong odor of ammonia that gets in the nose and won’t go away. In the air-conditioned jungle humidity of South Florida, you don’t even have the option of opening the windows… until last night. Looking at the forecast, we decided to close the bathroom door to avoid any humidity and open the windows to get that God awful smell out. Blissfully, the temperature went down to 69 degrees for the first time since… I don’t remember when. Today is clear, dry, and tonight it is supposed to get down to the low 60’s! Oh joy, oh rapture, oh bliss, can it be true??? It is even supposed to be so dry that – get this – we have a severe weather alert for low humidity. Anything less than 45% humidity is considered a fire hazard. I can hear you people in the southwest laughing, but it is true – only in Florida…

So why am I rambling about all of this? It is called AVOIDING. The thought of straining my sore muscles, going around the same room one more time (hopefully) and unleashing that God-awful odor has me thinking twice about continuing the project. I know, I know, just one more coat…

Did I mention it is a beautiful day and I have one more day that I don’t have to go to work?

Stress Release

If you watched the video, you will understand why I am off from work. Tension can only build up to a point where you have to let off some steam. I don’t think it was an overreaction, do you?

Fortunately, there are those who understand my distress. When I sent my “out of office” email auto response to my web guy (AKA my friend Tom, AKA designer of the Mr. Bitch t-shirt, AKA look at the link to the right of the blog that says “Tom”), I received this revised version:

I will be out of the office until Tuesday, October 28. I don't care if you need anything from now until then. Figure it out for yourself. THEY CALL THIS BEING PROACTIVE - do YOU know what PROACTIVE IS??? or are you still on B in the dictionary?

If it is ABSOLUTELY an emergency call 911 or 411 or - whoever the hell else you want to call but DONT CALL ME because I simply don't give a shit.

Good luck - hope not to see you again.
Mr. Bitch

Clearly, I have expressed my feelings about my work associates directly and accurately. But you probably ascertained that from the video.

So with that, I bid you all a happy and stress-free weekend.

Fundbeggar Event #7

… but who’s counting…

I feel I have been run over by a steamroller. Every muscle in my body is aching as if I have the flu – but I don’t. I feel like I have a hangover – without the benefit of alcohol. What would cause this malaise? Welcome to the world of the Fundraising Event.

Our little non-profit does a couple of these a year and I hate them. I don’t think I expressed that strongly enough. I HATE THEM… even that doesn’t express it, but you get the picture.

If I didn’t give a crap, these events would be easy. I would let the person who is supposed to handle this (ie – this is not my job) go down in flames through their own destructively nonchalant approach. But the mission of a cancer care support organization that is free to its members is too important to let the organization fail. So I ask the “did you do this,” “how is this being handled,” “what is the process” questions as my boss is getting nauseous about what is left to the last minute – or completely forgotten.

This is where my hospitality experience kicks in. No matter what – at all cost, an event should look effortless and seamless – Especially when people are paying $150 a ticket in this economy. Fortunately, we pulled one off again, but at the cost of frazzled nerves and MY sore muscles (not to mention money). When you spend an entire day preparing, and then hold the event while unconsciously tensing your muscles until 12:30 am… ouch. I’m getting too old for this crap.

One very good but somewhat surreal aspect of the evening was having David there. Since he left the organization last year, I have slowly and eerily taken over the exact role he had – right hand and confidant to the CEO (different CEO) and the person who holds it all together and makes sure it all gets done properly. It was equally surreal for him, returning to the place he continues to have a great passion for but was unceremoniously removed from. I can’t imagine how it must have felt for him, but I give him great credit for attending and making polite conversation with the people who were responsible for him losing a job he loved – through no fault of his or lack of competence, quite the opposite – his great skill and value to the organization continues to be irreplaceable… chalk it up to political bullshit. In spite of all this, David’s presence last night was the brightest spot of the evening for me.

So tomorrow I count the money and Tuesday I report to the board of directors on how much of a financial success or disappointment the event was. If it was not a financial success (and I seriously doubt it was), I have the option of political suicide by throwing the (recently former) board chair’s wife under the bus for all of the ways she undermined the event financially (long story). Or I could just give them the numbers and let them figure it out. I’m going with plan B unless pressed…

So, in summery… I’m tired, I’m sore, I’m cranky, and I get to try and clean up the financial mess in a bad economy. Sucks to be me… but it could be worse – I could be having my own financial meltdown with the growing ranks of the unemployed down here. There… I ended on a positive note. See… I’m smiling. OK, enough smiling; those muscles hurt too.

Transformation

Somewhere in the warm mists of time
I lost my way
I found my way
With strange purpose and by design…

And I don’t know where to find me

A stranger wakes with me each day
The mirror lies
The stranger dies
And with a price that can’t be paid

I head out cold in spite of me

Can you hear it
When your name is whispered softly
Or do you turn a deafened ear?
Can you bear it?

Can you see it
When it’s laid down right before you
Or do you close a blinded eye?
Can you bare it?

Somehow in the harsh light of day
I lost old time
I found new time
With precision and disarray

I reach out but can not touch me

Intentions fade and slowly grey
The mirror sighs
The stranger lies
To live and die another day…

And I speak yet can’t define me

Bless the Space Between Us

A Blessing for One Who is Exhausted


by John O'Donohue - (1954 - 2008)

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,

Time takes on the strain until it breaks;

Then all the unattended stress falls in

On the mind like an endless, increasing weight,

The light in the mind becomes dim.

Things you could take in your stride before

Now become laborsome events of will.

Weariness invades your spirit.

Gravity begins falling inside you,

Dragging down every bone.

The ride you never valued has gone out.

And you are marooned on unsure ground.

Something within you has closed down;

And you cannot push yourself back to life.

You have been forced to enter empty time.

The desire that drove you has relinquished.

There is nothing else to do now but rest

And patiently learn to receive the self

You have forsaken for the race of days.

At first your thinking will darken

And sadness take over like listless weather.

The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have traveled too fast over false ground;

Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up

To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain

When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,

Taking time to open the well of color

That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone

Until its calmness can claim you.

Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.

Learn to linger around someone of ease

Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,

Having learned a new respect for your heart

And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

Emotional Indigestion

Something odd has happened to my writing. I used to post a nice balance of matter-of-fact, serious, humorous, cryptic, and just plain off the walls entries. You know, moments of darkness and light – like the blog title says. Lately, it has been of the more cryptic and “huh, what did he just say?” variety (or lack of variety).

It is not writer’s block … it is something quite different. I have been writing more than ever. I have three blogs (at least) written and the start of what could quite possibly be a book going – and I am unwilling to do anything other them let them sit in the memory of my computer.

My writing has become quite personal; too personal, in fact. I have chosen to let loose the raw, emotional side and put it to print. Is it suitable for this forum? I am not so sure. Taken out of context, it would appear that my life is pure hell and that I am a tormented soul who will never be anything other than a victim of circumstances. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Blame it on the time of year, call it a life crisis, peg it on the economy, chalk it up to emotional and spiritual indigestion… It doesn’t really matter. But until I can find some perspective on all of this and return to my usual sometimes serious, sometimes less-than-serious, smartass self, I think I will step away from the blogging… for now, at least. (Previous sentence subject to change at whim).

That doesn’t mean I will stop leaving smartass comments on YOUR blogs.

Autumn Rain

I wish it would rain
the sunlight shines unknowing, uncaring
when I feel as grey as November skies

Chill nights, autumn leaves
are now memories cold that taunt, that tease
from a past that slowly grows faint and dies

Landscape unchanging
I envy you in your complacency
you mock me with your endless summer guise

But all things must change
just as sunlight will surely turn to rain
a cloudscape will soften endless summer skies

I wish it would rain…

Goodbye Blue Sky

Richard Wright 1943 – 2008

The world lost a legendary musician yesterday. You may not know the name, but you know his work. Richard Wright was the keyboard player and a founding member of Pink Floyd. He died at the age of 65 from a brief battle with cancer.

The voice and guitar of David Gilmour stand out as the trademark sound of Pink Floyd. The songwriting and lavish conceptual work of Roger Waters made the band rise to the heights of one the most successful bands of all time. But there in the background, were the subtle layers of sound that Richard laid as the foundation for songs that we all know so well. His soft keyboard work on “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,” his beautiful piano sound on “Us and Them,” the unforgettable effects, organ, and strings of “Echoes”… and the list goes on.

Not so long ago, founding Floyd member and cult hero Syd Barrett died and brought the mad genius back into the light for a while. I don’t expect the unassuming Wright will get that kind of attention. But I will remember late nights in a happily altered state (we are talking about Pink Floyd, after all…) listening to “Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun” with my stereo turned very low so I would not wake my parents. I also didn’t want them to smell the aroma coming from my room.

Every once in a while, Richard would step forward and do something musically dynamic and remarkable. I will conclude with the finest of these efforts - the very appropriate “Great Gig In The Sky.”

Say hello to Syd, Richard...

For Michael Collins, Jeffrey, and Me

I’ll go in reverse order…

For me:
I need to reclaim my life. My whining, ranting, bitching, kvetching, and otherwise being various shades of miserable about my job are evidence that I need to either accept it or move on. I could write another rant about this week’s events and how it spilled into this weekend, but I am not going to. I am claiming my life as my own.

For Jeffrey:
Damn, but the picture in the last blog really does look like Jeffrey. Well, if you put him in a suit and got him to yell into a phone… I am sure he would look quite dashing in a suit and I have a feeling he could yell into a phone just like that. For those of you who don’t know who I am talking about, look to the right of the blog and see .99centPoetry. His profile picture may not look like that, but trust me… that’s him.

For Michael Collins:
Who the hell is Michael Collins? Exactly. You remember Neil Armstrong and you probably remember Buzz Aldrin. They got the glory of being the first men to walk on the moon while Michael sat in his little orbiting capsule looking at a grey landscape, knowing he would never set foot on this familiar, yet alien world. There are times when I feel like I understand how Michael Collins must have felt. Not the glory part… the being so close that you can almost touch it, but having it out of reach.

Bonus point to anyone who can identify the origin of the blog title without looking it up…

Not Exactly a Vacation – Epilogue

Let’s not call it time off. Let’s call it staying at home (mostly) and being constantly annoyed, harassed, and generally pissed of at people who can’t think for themselves for FOUR FREAKING DAYS.

Earlier, I said that I have not whined about work for a while. I intend to change that...

It is official. I did not have one day of my “vacation” where I was not contacted by work for reasons from the ridiculous to the more ridiculous. When, on Wednesday, I issued an edict that I would no longer be looking at or responding to emails, but rather acting like I was on vacation, I thought I was pretty clear. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there.

Monday was a Holiday, so nobody was at work… thank God for Holidays. Tuesday was countless emails about getting what I needed to do a payroll from home (my fault for choosing a payroll week) and several “while I have you” emails. Wednesday was doing payroll at an ungodly hour because the cable guy was coming to repair our wireless signal – we already talked about that, but let me reiterate that the cable guy was an IDIOT! When the emails starting coming to my personal account, I had to issue aforementioned edict. Thursday was the panic about getting ready for a hurricane that IF it was actually heading in this direction would not be an issue for at least five days. Did that deter them from panicking? No. Did my edict hold? No. Did not responding to emails work? No. That’s when the phone calls started.

Let me say at this point that I am not a genius, a psychic, or in possession of any superhuman abilities… in other words, these are things that anybody can handle if only they would allow their brains to engage before working their mouths.

I snuck into work very early Friday morning to get out the plans for the hurricane shutters (even if it was too early to put them up) and directions for changing the system voicemail message (which didn’t need to be done). I made a copy of each to leave as a present for my boss and almost got out the door… almost. I could hear someone downstairs as I was leaving and I knew it was my boss *sigh* She is a very, very nice woman and she looked like she was about to burst into tears. It seems that in three sort days, the crazies had gotten to her to the point where she felt like she was losing her mind. Uh, yeah…I understand. You see, she and I share an office; we’re roomies and we get along very well. We bounce ideas off of each other, laugh a lot, and make the best of a… let’s say, difficult work environment. We’re a team. Uncouple the team, and apparently there is trouble.

I listened to her for an hour (did I mention that this is my vacation?) and when she said that she was starting to feel better, I recognized my cue to leave and possibly have one day of a vacation-like illusion. No such luck… While finally doing something with a friend that resembled having a life, the phone rang – Incoming text message “r u there?” I turned to my friend and said “Why do I do this to myself” as I, the world’s slowest texter (not a real word), responded. We were out, and about to head home, so I allowed myself those five short minutes before I called. Hurricane panic again. I was brief, I was curt, I was in no way going to be party to a plan that was a knee-jerk reaction to an undetermined problem that would involve going into work over the weekend which, by the way is STILL PART OF MY VACATION.

So that is how I spent my week off. My goodness, am I SO primed for Monday…

Don’t Read This…

…If you are put off by a passion for music and all of the technical geekdom that goes into making it happen. Your attention may wane and your eyes may glaze over… you have been warned.

So, what have I been doing on my (sort of) vacation? Painting the bathroom that I started two years ago? Nope. Getting the Hi-Def and digital service for the TV I bought in January? Nope. Taking care of doctor appointments, dental appointments, bank accounts, car servicing, etc., a.k.a. known as getting your life together while you have the opportunity? Nope.

What I have done so far is have daily communication with work, culminating in doing payroll from home yesterday (starting at 5:30 am), finishing just in time for the cable guy to show up and try (“try” being the operative word) to fix our wireless signal. Payroll got done and like the good geek that I am, I told the cable guy how to fix the problem… why did I even call for service? Anyway, work demands continued to persist, so I had to make a declaration that I was no longer reading my email and I was going act like I was on vacation. Remote log-in disconnected, not answering work calls… enough.

Now I am free to continue to put more time into what I have been doing, on and off, since last weekend – putting together my home recording studio. When I owned a home in New Jersey (1986 to 1998) I had a full home studio and I had a blast doing a lot of composition and recording there. The format at the time was cassette, so if I am to resurrect any of it, I have a lot of converting to digital to do. I had to leave behind a lot of equipment for my move to Maine (a home studio in a B&B just doesn’t work), so I have only a few essential pieces remaining from that setup – and a lot of stored music files on 3 ½” disk that I have no way of reading in a format that I no longer have the software for. Hello, Musician’s Friend…

Musician’s Friend has a catalog and website that turns me into a kid in a candy store. Since I play several instruments, there is always something I “need.” I have been pretty successful in deleting the emails with advertised specials (mostly), but now that I am intent in getting a scaled down studio together, the credit card has been used and abused.

So what have I put together so far? Ok, here’s the geeky part:

A small workstation with rails for rack mounting synthesizers and effects modules
My old analog (cassette) Tascam 424 Portastudio multi-track recorder (4 tracks)
A new(er) Tascam DP-01 Digital Portastudio multi track recorder (8 tracks)
An M-Audio pre-amp
My cherished Proteus 1 (256 rock/pop sounds) and Proteus 2 (256 orchestral sounds) synthesizers
An ART FXR Elite Multi effect rack
A Korg K61P controller keyboard
A M-Audio 88 hammer action, weighted key digital piano/controller keyboard
An Oberheim Strummer (emulates strumming action for synthesized guitar sounds)
Cakewalk Home Studio recording and sequencing software
A Fender Strat electric guitar (is there any other?) and Fender amp
A 1968 original Ovation 12 string acoustic/electric guitar that I have owned since 1973
An Epiphone mandolin
Shure 545SD and 5565 microphones
Sony Studio Monitor system
Sony Studio headphones ( to keep David from... well, to keep David...)

Is that enough? Hell, no… Ordered and on its way:
Alesis mixing board with built in digital signal processing (are you still with me?)
Yamaha synthesizer (cheap, but an easy way to add more sounds)
Various wires, cables, and replacement ac adapters that seem to have gone missing in all of my moving from place to place

While that may sound like a lot, here is what I left behind in my moves:
Three classic synthesizers (two Korgs and a mini-moog) and an A-frame keyboard stand
A piano
A Tama drum kit
Korg drum machine
A flute
An Alto Sax
A violin
Two dulcimers
A Crate 1000W PA system
A wireless microphone headset
Microphone stands
Various percussion toys…
And a room that was able to accommodate all of this (eyes glazing over, are they… skimming over the details?)

That is all well and good, but you may ask, “where is the output – I don’t hear any music?” All in good time… it takes a while to get this all together, get the electronics talking to each other, practicing, composing, recording, mixing down to stereo – and then you will hear the music. I promise.

In the mean time, I am covered in miles of cable that looks like spaghetti on steroids – and loving it.

Petals

In a dream,
as I observed
both father and son,
I cast petals upon the water.
The son looked on
in confusion.
“Father, why do you do this?” I asked.
“Because I no longer need them” I said.

The petals sank
and I laughed.
“Why do they fall so;
do petals not float?”
the child, who was me, asked.
“No, they must return to the soil
for the flower to live again,”
We all replied.

In a dream,
we sank like petals
and awoke.

Not Exactly a Vacation…

… but close enough. Let’s call it time off. I am taking advantage of a Holiday weekend to have a full week of greatly needed time off.

I have not whined about work for a while, but I will say this much. I need a serious reset. I’m thinking of having a reset button installed… somewhere near the port for a memory card that I have planned. What do you think – neck, forehead? The neck would be better aesthetically, but the forehead would be more practical because I wouldn’t have to fumble without being able to see where I am inserting the card. Maybe a different spot for each… the last thing I need is for some damn fool to come running up and hit a reset button on my forehead. I would probably think it was time to start my day over. Hmmm… the challenges of bionics.

But I digress… and probably inadvertently proved my need for a reset.

So, the “not exactly a vacation” part has to do with the fact that we are not going anywhere. But that’s OK, I have enjoyed home vacations before. But David has to work… but that’s OK (for me, not him), I just need time away from work. But I forgot when I planned this time off that it is a payroll week, so I will have to do that (from home, I hope). But that’s OK, it should only take a few hours. But it will involve communicating with people from work, and I don’t know about you, but to me a vacation means NO communication with work…

I work at strange place where the managers feel they need to be in constant communication with work on their time off. That’s just wrong. Why bother taking the time off if you are checking your work email and making calls to “check in?” I am dedicated, but that is just obsessive and more than a little controlling. I have a good, competent staff and I trust them to do what needs to be done. Someone needs to change that mindset and I am happy to start a new trend.

Now that I whined about work (yet again), the fact remains that I AM on vacation and I have some fun projects planned. Woe be the first misguided soul to call me from work and say “Help me Poppa Smurf, we don’t know what to do!”

Pillow Transference and Other Life Mysteries

Like any other lonely, insecure, maladjusted, and slightly twisted single person, I learned the joy of hugging a pillow while I sleep. It was a habit that I thought would go away when I was no longer single, and it did – for a while. With life’s little daily stressors and a touch of insomnia, I re-learned the joy of pillow hugging. That is, of course, only when the real thing (much more comforting, comfortable, and huggable) has fallen asleep and I do not want to disturb…

This habit seems to be contagious. Pillows are good for balancing the body, helping to keep the back straight, and keeping a sore shoulder comfortable – and, of course, just comforting.

First, there was the designated “huggy pillow.” Then the full length body pillow appeared. I affectionately refer to it as “the great wall.” So now, with two official huggy pillows and two people, one would think that all would be right in the world. One would be wrong.

An odd thing now happens through the night. I fall asleep hugging a pillow and wake up through the night with the pillow gone… to find that David is holding it. Curious. How does this pillow transference occur? I have a theory.

As we all know from watching Travelocity® commercials, garden gnomes have the ability to move freely among us, unnoticed. I believe that gnomes secretly enter our homes in the night and unceremoniously move the pillow from one person to another. Then they give a little kick in the hindquarters just for fun. This would explain those bruises on your butt that you can’t remember getting.

I am in the process of setting up a motion sensor video surveillance system to catch the little buggers in the act. Then I intend to contact Scientific American and The National Inquirer.

You, gentle readers, don’t have to thank me for this information. It is a service I provide out of deep affection for you.

The Morning Commute

I hate crying. It clogs the sinuses and often starts a headache. It is particularly bad when driving because you either have to pull over or squint through your tears to see the road. When it happens during a morning commute, who really wants to take the time to pull over?

Yesterday, preoccupied with the prospect of experiencing my first hurricane, I thought the flashing lights in the distance might be due to a road closed from flooding. I thought, “Great, just a mile from home and I am going to get detoured.” As I got closer, I could see that there were three police cars with their noses all pointing towards each other in the middle of the road. I thought it strange and proceeded slowly, as the few cars on the road braving the weather went down to one lane. It was just a couple of car lengths before the intersection, so I was right beside the police activity as I was stopped for the red light. When I turned my head and looked, my hand went to my mouth in horror and I couldn’t stop the tears.

An empty car was in the center turning lane, and a few feet in front of it was a wheelchair. The wheelchair was knocked on its side with pieces of metal scattered all around.

Just beyond the base of the chair was a single, empty shoe.

I have seen him sitting at the intersection. His hair long and wild, I imagined that he might be a Vietnam vet. When he would cross this very busy intersection, he would do it with impressive speed, but he was unpredictable. Sometimes he would just dart out, sometimes he would wheel himself backwards, while other times he would carefully wait for the light. He might have been homeless; he was probably not mentally stable. But he was as much a part of my daily commute as the road itself – except he had a name.

The police officers were taking pictures of the scene and going about their business in what appeared to be an emotionally detached way. I realize that they see things like this, and worse, every day. But the placement of cars, police officers, empty wheelchair, and shoe, looked like a bizarre still life carefully being photographed - that someday, might appear in an exhibition of surrealistic hyper-realism.

Had I left for work a few minutes earlier, I may have been part of that picture.

I have seen this man every day on my way to work for nearly two years. I did not see him this morning.

There was no hurricane, just a lot of rain.

I went about my day, like any other day.

I can’t get the image of that empty shoe out of my head.

Love and Madness

I feel the cycle, the repetition
When I allow myself to feel at all
The things we do to make our way
And lose our way
A bit each day

Love and madness are in the air
You only have to choose
The things we do to keep it whole
We lose our soul
To keep it whole

Life does not grow simpler with time
The crime is that we worked it out before
A door that opened, turn around – it’s gone
What’s done is done, but how to carry on?

I know the answers, the lessons learned
But the questions no longer seem to fit
The things we do to just get by
Today I cry
Today I fly

Space does not flow equally with time
The crime is that we’ve come this way before
A door discovered, find the latch – it’s gone
It’s all been done, yet still we carry on

Love and madness are in the air
You only have to choose

Theorem

I think we all remember the kid in math class who would challenge the teacher with the question “when will I ever use this (algebra/geometry/calculus, etc.) in real life?” I remember that challenge continuing through college math courses and wonder where the kid, turned teen, turned adult wound up.

I think I have a theory.

A friend shared the following with me and I feel compelled to pass it along. Here, my friends, at long last, is the application to REAL life:


This comes from 2 math teachers with a combined total of 70 yrs. experience.
Indisputable mathematical logic… a strictly mathematical viewpoint... that goes like this:

What Makes 100%? What does it mean to give MORE than 100%? Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%? We have all been to those meetings where someone wants you to give over 100%. How about achieving 103%? What makes up 100% in life?

A little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions:

If:
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

is represented as:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Then:

H-A-R-D-W-O-R-K
8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%

And

K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E
11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%

But

A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E
1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%

And

B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T
2+21+12+12+19+8+9+20 = 103%

AND, look how far ass kissing will take you:

A-S-S-K-I-S-S-I-N-G
1+19+19+11+9+19+19+9+14+7 = 118%

So, one can conclude with mathematical certainty, that while Hard Work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, it is the Bullshit and Ass Kissing that will put you over the top.



Class dismissed…

They Say There’s No Such Thing…

… as a stupid question.


Now, I am not completely without compassion and I don’t expect everyone to be a tech geek. But still, there are times when the desire to ask, “DID YOU READ THE FUCKING DIRECTIONS OR ARE YOU JUST ILLITERATE!” (thanks, Tom – your royalty check and t-shirt are in the mail), is very strong.

Those of us who work in a technology intensive field, have to work with technologically challenged people, or just have common sense and are searching for the glimmer of the light of intelligence in any co-worker’s eyes, might understand the picture above. I don’t know whether it is a fabrication, a clever bit of photoshoped humor, or a real help screen - but to whoever submitted this picture to Google Images… I understand and feel your pain.

True story… back in my days of working at HP we had just such a challenged admin. She was trying to install software and got stuck when the message appeared “PRESS ANY KEY.” For the life of her, she could not find the key to press that was labeled “Any.” So, she called the help desk and told them that her keyboard was missing a key... you can’t make this stuff up.

For nearly two years, I have been the equivalent of our little business’ help desk. I have endured the slings and arrows of outrageous inquiries about email, “broken” PC’s, keyboards, and mice (mouse’s, mouses?) that were actually unplugged or otherwise disconnected. I “fixed” copiers and printers that were out of paper. I “made the digital camera work” by charging the batteries. I have been a hero, a savior, a god… but no more.

I hired someone to take on one of my five jobs where I work. For the past week, I have experienced the singular joy of redirecting all of the calls of technology doom and disaster to another. I feel a sense of relief that I have not known for lo, these past two years. While he is taking it all in stride (yes, HE – I had the audacity to hire a male in our little gynocracy), I sit snickering inside waiting to see how long it will take him to mutter the bold words above.

Ah, life’s little joys… ya gotta take ‘em where you can.

Mr. Bitch

Sure, everybody thinks I’m a nice guy. Most of the time I am, but there are those times…

As HR bitch (job responsibility #5, but who is counting) I got to sit in on an employee getting fired this week. As part of a team of three managers sitting in on this, I watched the other two stammer, look downward, and generally prolong the process unnecessarily. The young woman being let go was using ever trick in the book… sorry dear, they don’t work on me. I let it go as long as I could stand it then interrupted the circular conversation by stating that a decision was made, everything that needed to be said was said, and the discussion was over (i.e. don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out).

But that’s not really what I am writing about.

I find the response to my last three posts interesting in that from the trilogy of dark, light, and grey, people responded best to writing about the light. I find this very comforting and affirming. Thank you for all of the very thoughtful comments.

But that’s not what I was going to write about either.

What happens when you have a good friend who is a graphic artist and knows a bit about you and your day to day hell that is called work. Well, he starts with a picture like this:

Crop it down to this:
Then work some magic and artistry to produce this:

It gave me the best laugh I had all week and neatly ties in all of the previous things that I said I was not writing about.

Hey, I’m Mr. Bitch, I can do that.

Thanks Tom, I needed that laugh. Check out his blog, see his smiling face, Sophi the wonder dog, and the writing of an all around great guy.

Shades of Grey

I want the sky to be grey today
I want an endless day of rain
gazing out the window
remembering the smell of pine
the aroma of freshly moistened earth
a peace pulled out of time

I want it to be all right today
I want the pieces to fall into place
living in the moment
perspective from each view
the past left far behind me
a present clear and true

Darkness to the left of me
Light, clear on the right
shades of grey surrounding
in a shifting shapeless light

And if I don’t seem very clear
Shades of grey are looming near

© tjp 7/22/08

Equal Measure

“Moments of light and darkness… not always in equal measure.” If I may be so narcissistic as to quote myself...

It has always been easier for me to see the dark. I have an eye for it, I am attuned to it. There is a strange sense of comfort in the familiarity of it because I have spent so much of my life there. But I am not happy there.

Circumstance, events… these are all transitional and constantly changing. While the most important things in my life are good and positive, still, I am often overwhelmed by the negative. In the day to day world of get-up-go-to-work-come-home-be-brain-dead-go-to-sleep-get-up-go-to-work, it is easy to see only the negative. It is easy to get lost when most of your waking hours are spent in a less than optimum work environment. But let’s take stock.

A few years ago, I spent a grueling 18 months in a combination of therapy and spiritual direction. During that time, I faced and fought a lot of demons. Successfully, I might add… I ended toxic relationships and stepped into the transformative fires that forged the “me” who I was meant to be. One thing that will always remain with me is that I was asked the question “What is your deepest desire?” I explored several answers only to come back to my initial gut instinct…

Love, with a capital L. Spiritual love, love of friends and family, and the love of that one special person who you allow into your heart to share life. Two as one.

The desire for spiritual love has never left me, even though my commitment to spirituality has changed over time… not left me, but changed. I have family who I love with all of my heart… not all of my family, but enough that I feel connected. After bemoaning the fact that I left so much behind, particularly good friends when I made my 2,000 mile move, I realized that I was doing nothing to cultivate new friendships. I have since developed some real friendships that are growing and deepening. Most important of all (What is your deepest desire?), I have that one special person in my life; I have a strong relationship that is exactly what I hoped against hope that could be someday. The kind of love and commitment that many people never know in their lives. I have it, and I am blessed beyond belief.

This is what sustains me, this is what nurtures and carries me.

Once again, when I take the time to open my eyes and look around me; when I listen and hear the inner voice of reason… I find the balance. Light and darkness may not always be in equal measure. But I am taking a step forward and feeling the warmth of coming back into the light.

It seems to be a lesson that I need to learn over and over…

Watching The Dark

Wit and Wisdom

Endless time
and senseless rhyme
where’s anything of worth?
The trail narrows before me
that I’ve followed
since my birth

Time just brings
material things
that in time turn to dust
But wit and wisdom
once like steel
begin to fade and rust

People pass like phantoms
‘till you wonder
if they’re real
Concerted indifference
to do anything
but feel

Hollow cries
from sightless eyes
that shed mere tears of dust
But wit and wisdom
once like steel
begin to fade and rust…


Most of this is from song lyrics that I wrote over 20 years ago. Most… because I don’t remember all of the words, so I filled in the rest with what you see here. What I remembered (mostly the music) was going through my head… it relates to some current difficulties. Things are far better than when I wrote the original, but it is good to know that cynicism and exploring the darkness is timeless…

OK Boys, Break’s Over…

… and so my first real vacation in over seven years come to a close. You may say, “Hey, what about all of those Disney trips? “ Well, here is how I define a real vacation:

It must last at least one full week AND it requires being away from home for that week

There is usually a third – It must involve no more than two people, and one of those two must be me. But with a family reunion as the basis for the vacation, well, that one got waived. Besides, the aforementioned vacation seven years ago was the beginning of a series of events that resulted in my eventual divorce. While, in retrospect, that is not a bad thing, I am not looking to repeat that experience ever again… the two rules will suffice.

There is no way that I am going to attempt to chronicle the entire week. But I can give you some highlights (and low points)

There were 19 of us in a very nice beach house at a wonderful location. But, there were 19 of us… Everyone was very nice and considering that I was new to 15 members of David’s family in a potentially awkward situation, everyone was very nice. It didn’t take long to fit in…

I shared a birthday with Amy (pictured beneath the blade), one of David’s nieces, who quickly became my favorite (shhh…. Don’t tell the rest). David gave me a very cool and unexpected gift – the entire Absolutely Fabulous series on DVD, packaged in an absolutely fabulous silver tufted case that looks like a book, complete with silver and black leopard print silk book marker. Smashing, sweetie darling…

There were six children ranging in age from 3 to 13. In my experience and considering my low tolerance for children, I must say they are very well behaved… most of the time. But they are children, so I expect them be just that… children. I think my facial expression says it best...

I have heard it , but now I have experienced it - this family really does get along very well. Most were up each night to the wee hours having cocktails, playing games, having cocktails, talking, having cocktails. Amazing…

David got an earache on Tuesday and is still fighting it.

I got sick on Wednesday with fever, muscle aches and chills. The worst of it lasted for only 24 hours, but I still can’t eat properly (not necessarily a bad thing at my current weight.)

Mom’s 80th birthday was on Thursday. We all descended on a local pub that serves great pizza and other than David’s earache and my inability to eat, a good time was had by all. One of David’s nieces made a very cool cake and we did the gift thing back at the beach house. I still can’t believe that she is 80 – she is, to say the least, an amazing woman. Oh yes, we gave her the coolest gift – a digital frame loaded with new and old pictures and even included a video clip from Christmas at Disney. Oooh’s and Ahhh’s abounded.

The fireworks display on the 4th was probably one of the best fireworks displays in my experience. The beach is a big crescent from Sanibel Island, through Fort Meyers, Bonita Springs, and all the way down to Naples. All were going at the same time and we were right at the center of the crescent. Some of the most impressive displays were right on the beach on each side of us – really, really close on each side of us. For a change, I decided not to bring the camera and just enjoy it. It was a very good choice.

I didn’t turn off my phone soon enough and work did call… later, I missed a birthday call from a good friend who I really would have enjoyed talking to. Oh well, cell phones are a necessary evil.

We left with a ton of leftover food, about 500 photos, goodies from a local outlet mall, and returned to find all was well, and that bills don’t stop coming in the mail just because you are on vacation.

That’s the short version. And so for now, break’s over. Tomorrow, I find out what awaits me at work, ready to hit the ground running. I reserve the right to whine about it.

But before that, perhaps a Sunday nap…

Things You Should Know

I like to keep my friends swimming out in the cyber pool informed. That’s me waving from the deep end. Hi!

A few facts:

Never give me poor customer service. This has been the subject of countless rants on another blog site, but today Macy’s got the prize. The store was freaking empty, was I really completely invisible? I was about to drop too much money on a pair of shoes… and I was ignored… bad Macy’s!

I have the ability to wiggle my eyeballs very fast and it freaks most people out. I don’t do it much anymore because it gives me a headache. Ya think I should stop?

I am on VACATION!!!! For a whole WEEK!!! I am turning off my CELL PHONE so WORK can’t CALL!!! I am NOT doing BUSINESS on a BEACH!!!

I can move my eyes independently – one goes one way while the other stays still, then the other eye moves while the other stays still. In spite of the way that sentence was written, I only have two eyes.

We are celebrating Mom’s 80th birthday. She is David’s mom, but I get to call her mom too, which is very cool (I don’t call her mom too, I call her mom). Children will be involved… I don’t do children well. Funny that, since I am one.

I have never had the hiccups. Never… ever. I occasionally make a sound that resembles a hiccup, sometimes even twice, but never three times. It just doesn’t happen. I am a freak of nature and damn proud of it. Hmmmm… I think that might make a good t-shirt (that’s four if you are counting, Claire).

I don’t have a normal feed for my blog. I have to be different, so if you are one of those kind souls who has me on your Google Reader and my blog never seems to update, the feed is: http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/YbXU

I can wiggle my ears which makes my glasses move back and forth. It scares young children… did I mention that I don’t do children well?

For the next week I will be at a beach house with David and 18 members of his family. If you don’t hear from me during that time, that is why. If it goes longer than a week, please call the authorities and comb the beach at Fort Meyers…

On Sunday I will be 53. I have nothing witty or profound to say about that. Other than at this point, ever year is a gift. OK, that was a little profound… maybe just enough.

So, gentle reader, consider yourself informed and enjoy the water. And hey… let’s be careful out there!