I don't remember how to react to these feelings. Did I ever really experience them? Or were they clouded by so many other emotions that were going on at the time? All that time in the mosh pits I remember, but as a release not as a desperate outlet.
Lately I have been short-tempered, and I don't know why. Throughout my life I have been so even keeled. For some reason I tended to take things in stride, just move on.
Maybe in the past I always blamed myself in some small way. Expected the universe to pound on me, thus acceptance of what may come.
Now maybe I believe for once that I deserve more. That I paid my dues or just have earned something better. So when I get more of the same...I feel frustrated.
But anger hurts others more than it hurts you. It magnifies as it leaves your orbit. That is what makes it so hard, the fact that in the moment all you want to do is release, explode. Yet that very explosion causes exponential damage to those around you.
Why have I been so rageful lately? Too young for menopause, maybe time to make some changes in life again?
When I used to read tarot cards on a regular basis there was this one position in the layout that I would read:
"This card represents your greatest hope, but also your greatest fear. Because what you want the most in life is also the thing that terrifies you most to receive."
So, so true. Nothing is more terrifying than getting what you want.
And when you are a rockstar? Heh, you spend time with your crush over the weekend...and talk to everyone but him. Because why actually charm someone you want to win over when you can charm those whose admiration you have already gained?
Seriously, now it is just getting stupid. Could I just make some small talk already? Even a "nice weather today" would be an improvement.
Okay, so maybe I'm a little addicted to buying my iPhone ring tones. The beauty is you design exactly what part of the song to use, how long the segment is, and how it does or doesn't fade in or out.
Errr, I have just purchased like fifteen ringers. Seriously, you dear reader may have called me once in the past two years but if I saw something that reminded me of you...yep, you are personalized.
The funny thing is in order to buy the ring tone you have to purchase the song first. So I now own all kinds of songs that previously I never would have thought about owning. Ever. Stupid apple, I hate them for being so good at taking my money. Dammit.
Just about ten minutes ago I recieved an email from a relation. "Euoropean vacation - Cousin style" was the concept.
Oh, I don't think you understand.
My sister and I are the slow ones of the social family. We only caught on late in the game. It is like in the MIT world of fun skills, we are in the C grade range. Yes, I have a social group to which my social skills are only but average.
Pause and collect.
So when my cousins want to arrange a trip for all of us?
Over twenty irish cousins? (With marrieds is that over 40?)
Heh heh heh.
HEH HEH HEH.
Just imagine --- I'm one of the shy ones. Really. Dude, this is going to be good.
I received contact recently from the Mongo, land of all things fun in my 20's, in the form of a myspace entity. There seems to be a potential reunion approaching. Thus someone has used myspace to find some of us.
As part of this effort, I have been receiving messages from a past coworker who is anonymous on myspace. Here is the intro:
No, this isn't a letter telling you how cute that you are to try and recieve sexual favors, And no, I do not wish to refinance your house either. But years ago, while we both worked at the mongo, I would have loved to try and steal a smooch. HA HA HA!!! I hope that your life is fabulous, amazing, and chalk full of the finest sex! Been a long time..........
Okay, inconspicuous enough. This kind of thing happens online in the network world. So I respond:
The funny thing about your myspace page is I have no idea who you are. Which of course leaves me with no context to reply but: I have good email that blocks weird advances for sexual favors. (but only weird ones) To refinance a house you have to own one. NYC? Not so much. Life is always fabulous and amazing for me, but goddamn I always have been one of those positive people so did you expect less? Finest sex comes and goes (if I spelled that a little differently I'd be so witty) depending on the scene...
I hope this satisfies some of your curiosity.
here's hoping you get just enough of what you are looking for to make you happy - just enough because to get everything you want is always a curse. :)
I was going for nice to hear from you, peace yo. Not like that has EVER been my forte. Then I get back Yes, but if you knew exactly who I was, would that not take all of the fun out of the game? We had a fun work relationship, filled with laughs and smiles, but then again, most of the people working at that time had the same with one another..... it seems that that hint was headed toward a very open field. It is a pleasure to see that your sence of humor has gotten even more sarcastic and beautiful. no idea???
My intention was not to turn this into some sort of game, yet to say hello to someone whos company I truely did enjoy. But remembering your personality, it is tempting to perpetuate this act of drama ( no not the drag queen disco type).
The choice, my friend, is up to you. Want to play? Or wish to know. With that said, I bow my head and hand the ball to you. ta-ta
Damn gauntlet. Damn, damn damn gauntlet.
So now I have to figure this out. Of all the people I worked with at this place over four years, who is it???
Don't get me wrong, love the challenge. Love it. Hate it. Argh.
You know, sometimes I forget how much fun it is to spend time with new people. Tonight I went to a bar with some peeps from work. We know each other through polite conversation, the friendly meeting type interactions.
But spending time outside of the office? Not so much.
Over the past three years my evenings have been consumed with training. Two years for the marathon, the balance for the half. This made me very economical about my time. If there were minutes left in the week they were to be spent catching up with the established friends. I owe the people I care about my time. That is the way it works.
So now here I am not on any race program, not running at all thank you to an injury. By god it is time I went out for laughs with any non-regulars.
We went to Rudy's, always a great place. No pretension, and plenty of hot dogs. And by god we laughed a lot. It was so much fun!
There is something to be said for getting to know new people. I think I'm going to work on that some more. How did I ever forget in the first place? When did the comfort of familiar friends replace the joy in discovering new ones?
Do people normally cap off at a certain point with friends? They make all the buddies they will by a certain age, and who they keep in touch with they keep in touch with? Does everyone always shift alliances and meet more people expanding groups, eventually making new ones?
Or maybe as people couple off and get serious-like with marriage and kids they don't have as much time or interest for the casual life, causing me in my resplendent singledom to expand my social horizons. They move on and I move out.
God I love the fall. Love it love it love it. All of a sudden I have all this energy, this drive. Too bad my leg is a mess, I can't pour out the overflow into running.
But by bejessus I can clean. And shop. And surf the web.
Check this out - what a kick ass cast! Too bad the last scene of the trailer kind of reminds me of that Mary Stuart Masterson movie Immediate Family. But then I'll forgive it because of the director...
The weather this weekend was absolutely gorgeous. Sunny, high sixties. With weather like that there was no way I could resist running in central park. It is after all one of my most favorite things to do here in the city. Doing so for me ties together the majesty of what this metropolis is about. The skyline, the diversity of people, how at the center of this cement and metal living thing we could just hold a little bit of fresh air.
Today I paid for it. Limped around the house. See, after the sad, sad attempt to run the NYC half a while ago I took some time off from my favorite hobby. But by god I missed it. So I've been picking it back up over the last couple of weeks.
It has felt great. Amazing. Once having burned myself out with all the training for the half I had forgotten the sense of joy I feel with the sport. And so what do I do? Run too many miles. Overindulge in something I had forgotten I even missed. And hurt myself.
Iliotibial band syndrome. The muscle from my hip down the outside of my thigh, wrapping around my knee to the top of my calf. Swollen and painful, not letting me bend my knee or lift my leg. Ouch.
The run yesterday felt so great too. I was in terrific form, moving like the wind. I felt free, alive. Now this.
How is it that I have fallen in love with a sport that innately hurts you? Read any runners magazine, blog, or website and the number one topic is injury. Prevention and recovery. How can we beat ourselves up to improve without breaking. After all, that is what training does, tears muscle fibers so they heal over. Making us stronger. Faster.
Isn't that just what we do in life? We get hurt over and over again as such so that part of us which is vulnerable scars over and is no longer as susceptible to pain or injury. So we are able to work through the past and are better able to enjoy our future.
The key to all of this is twofold. First of all after activity you need time to heal, recover. If you don't let those tears in your fiber scar over you won't be getting any stronger, just will be doing more damage and tearing deeper and longer at an open wound.
Secondly, don't push too hard and tear so much that you cannot heal, causing permanent damage. So hard that you handicap yourself.
So I have to remember to follow these rules. To navigate this path to learn from my past mistakes and allow myself to benefit from them. It would be tragic to lose my runs in central park instead of going faster and reveling in them.
As heartbreaking as it was to discover that Collins Bar was closed, I have found comfort in another locale. St. Andrews bar on 44th between 6th and 7th. Yes, the bartenders wear kilts. That is a strong selling point. But just wait until Thighs sees this... That with the kitchen open late night and the 75% male clientele?
If you were to ask me what my type was, I couldn't answer.
Not because I lack introspection or can't recognize a good thing when I see it. Quite the opposite. I see too many of the good things, which in many ways defies the idea of a 'type'. My range is far too wide to easily define.
For example, in the past I have felt the lust a-burnin for vin disel in pitch black. You know, the whole self-sacrificing warrior type thing. Like, say...Malcom Reynolds. Of Firefly/Serenity. Yummy.
Today? Someone says in my presence "I have a direct line to Stphen Hawking" and I am sold. Putty in his hands. Immediately.
Wait...you don't think that is hot? C'mon. To have the ability to call at any given time one of the most brilliant minds in our life span? And then they know who you are???
Too geeky hot. But I'm still totally into it. Oh, the nerd love...
Repeatedly I am shocked to find that people remember what I say.
Okay, that sounds weird. What I mean is for some reason after I speak I completely disregard my own words. Forget what I said, what I was trying to convey. And to be totally honest, when people talk to me I remember the general idea of what they are communicating, but am only able to paraphrase. Never can I repeat anything word for word.
It is a weird trait to have. Every now and then people will come back to me and say something like "Thanks for the advice" or "You were totally right about what you said to me that night."
My response? "I gave you advice? What did I say?" or "What the hell did I tell you?
At that point they refresh my memory "You told me to shut up in meetings" or "You told me he would make a pass at me in the next three months and he did” And it all comes flooding back. If people don't remind me later, I utterly forget what I tell them.
But what I find amazing is that there are so many people out there who remember what I say and take it to heart. It humbles me, because I really should be careful about what I say off the cuff. Or at least I make sure they know that it is theory or opinion, not fact.
My favorite example was from a long, long time ago. I was working in Michigan at the Mongo, and I had this customer that looked exceptionally familiar. We both recognized each other, but could not place from where.
After some back and forth, we realized that he had been a pilot that I had worked with one time a year and a half prior when I was a flight attendant. Such relief to remember where our acquaintance was from!
That is when it got funny. When he pointed out our history he then quickly gestured at his shoes and said, "I remember you!! You told me that you could tell everything about a guy by looking at his shoes! That if I ever wanted to impress a girl to make sure my shoes were neat and kept up. Look! Look!" He said, pointing again at his feet, "Now I always make sure that my shoes are presentable! You were right!"
Okay, you know how many times I have given out that advice? Really?
ONCE. To this guy. And he totally took it as gospel.
I am so full of shit. When I was doing it I was pulling some kind of I know it all crap. His shoes were scuffed and whatnot so I 'predicted' that he was slovenly at home, didn't take care of his things, was lazy etc. Because I read that all from his footwear.
Right. The fact that we were in a plane that seats 26 passengers, two pilots, and one flight attendant for three days didn't give me any insight at all. It was the shoes.
One thing I have been working on (and hopefully succeeding) is giving serious advice when drunk. Because then I get too heavy. So maybe I should just stick to advice on footwear. Helps the economy after all.
Honestly I don't know if other people do this, but I have many awesome fantasy lives. I read a lot, so that helps supplement the interior drama life some. But when that doesn't satisfy the itch, I bring my own imagination into play.
About four months ago I remembered this one guy I new. Once upon a time. He was hot. And deep. I thought he liked me. Maybe. So at that point of time in my life I was reading tarot cards. They gave me much direction in my life, and also acted as a stimulant in social situations where I felt insecure.
This guy was also interested in the tarot. But when I offered to read his cards at a party when I was reading others he turned me down. Because to read them would be too personal for that setting.
As a friend, I called him a couple of days later to set up his own personal reading. I won't lie here - I thought he might be interested and this was the icebreaker. Knowing that I made the call. But when he answered, he turned me down.
Guess he wasn't interested after all. I mean, here I was. Calling him asking to be alone with him. He turns me down. Done. No excuse, no reschedule. Must have misread the situation.
Here I am many years later, and for some reason I started to think about him again. In fantasy form. What are the odds that we end up getting in contact again soon?
My job is to make sure we have just enough books to sell. But not too many. Because god knows I can predict what four year old children will want to buy over the next six months. Who doesn't?
That is the basic job. But really I am a traffic cop. Look for problems, move slow traffic to the side of the road, make sure all the breakdowns get towed to the appropriate garage.
Today? We got a complaint from a customer (being a chain of booksellers) that a carton of books was received that smelled badly, like petroleum products.
So as part of my job, I had to email a guy to walk into a building the size of a football stadium to go smell about 120 cartons of books.
As ridiculous as I felt in asking, what warms the heart was his reply.
"A spot check was performed and all the stock smelled wonderful!!!"
Dude. I do not tire of telling this story. I had to ask someone to go smell books. As part of their (and my) daily job.
On a side note, for all of my ruminations about my employees, of course they performed in ultra stellar mode today. Which was a pleasant relief. The key I think to surviving this holiday season will be me delegating appropriately, and not assuming too much of myself and too little of them. Game on.
Over our Jersey Shore weekend Spaghetti ruminated about a Times article she had read singing the praises of cold brewed coffee. Supposedly the nectar of gods, far superior to the regular brew just tossed over some ice.
With a little research I came across the recipe. Simply add grounds and ice water to a container. Stir. Leave overnight. Next morning filter out the grounds, and mix one part water to one part cold brewed coffee.
Simple as pie. But me? Ha. "Why dilute with water?" I scoff to myself.
So by god I drank my jumbo mug full of the straight stuff. And it was DELICIOUS. Very tasty. The cold brewing really brought out all the subtle flavors that you don't get with a hot cuppa joe.
Oh, but then the caffeine.
ROCKET FUEL. I did not stop moving at lightning speed until 3:30. My coworkers were afraid of me. (Really, they were.) I was a force not to be reckoned with.
Which came in damn handy today to tell you the truth. First of all, the CEO of my company retired today. Not too much of a surprise, but oh the drama.
Sure they named his successor. But at the last gig I saw what happens when a changeover at this level happens. It tends to be the aftershocks that will getcha. A successor is named, and some juggling is done to replace or restructure whatever gap needs to be filled. But the real question that sits on everyone's lips concerns the loyalties.
In my experience I have seen people with over 20 years at a company get tossed out of the door head over feet because of the political ‘favorites’ game. This is the time when you see how battle lines that are drawn over time really come to fruition. Because at a certain pay grade job performance is more a matter of opinion than measurability.
So the extra legal drug was an aid in the drama. But also, by god, there have been a lot of fires to put out as of late. The last two nights I was at work until seven, tonight until nine. Don't ask how many hours my employees worked. Because I might twitch.
Therein lies the ethical question. How hard do you work, and why?
I work hard because I identify myself with my job. If my job is not in order, my responsibilities not handled well, I consider myself a failure. Therefore I have to stay until I know everything is taken care of that needs to be because I refuse the concept that I could not succeed.
To do my job well I must make sure all issues that need action have been moved upon or reminded to the person lacking response by me. The regular duties must of course be maintained, minimum daily and weekly tasks. My boss must not be in need of my assistance. I can't tell you how many times at the mighty bird I would try to help Seattle Jane or Brown Sugar. Not that they would give me much, but at the very least if they were overworked I was taking on every extra thing I could to get them out from under their load.
So of course I can't expect my employees to try as hard or be as intuitive as me. But if there is anything I have learned it is that I need to delegate more. And maybe explain exactly how I measure their basic levels of success. Because a lot of the extra work has been compensating for where they did not act as they should.
So even though this week looks like it, I don't plan on repeating my same work patterns as last year. Putting in sixty to seventy hours while the people under me feel overworked at forty-five.
Now how the hell do I explain that to them?? Crap. Having employees sucks.
But at least I know do dilute my damn coffee before I have a talk with any of them. Could you just imagine me on an illegal drug? Yeah. No.