UPS Deliveries

I ordered a printer recently. The UPS man just came by to deliver it. I, unfortunately, was still in my PJs. ( I work at home these days.)

The doorbell rang and I gave a yell of "oh shit!". Nevermind the tracking # HP gave me says that the package will arrive tomorrow.

I scrambled to get into my clothes. My DAMN FUCKING bra would not clasp. It claspes when I am not in a hurry but wouldn't fucking clasp now. Had to drag the clasps around the front to work them. I pulled on a shirt and jeans and ran madly to the door.

There was a little sticker on the window informing me of the next drop-off. The UPS guy was pulling down the street. I ran out waving my arms; note I did not have shoes on and it is raining. I see the brown van turn the corner. My heart sank. Then he backed up. He'd seen me!!!

Alas, no. He backs up, and then I wait for him to turn back down the street. Nothing. I figure he is making another delivery. He has backed up into a dead end and will turn back down my street as soon as he completes his mission. I'll catch him when he does.

So I wait under the overhang outside my home.

And I wait.

Eventually my ears pick up the sound of a truck being started. I tense wth excitement.

The truck passes down the other street.

Bastard.

Conversations with Retail Sales: Dooming Walmart

I went to the Body Shop yesterday as I was out of moisturizer and my skin is flaking already from the cold. Do you know that when I was in Atlanta I had oily skin? Now I need moisturizer. Aggggghhhh. Dammit WINTER.

Oh well. While in the store the sales assistant and I started talking about the after Thanksgiving shopping hell and the internet. More people could shop the internet as opposed to risking their neck or someone's to buy Aunt Essie a scarf. Or maybe shop at local boutiques.

This might seem odd for the sales lady to be saying because the store I was in was at the mall. Hey, retail people are human too. The retail consumers are the ones that are not human. You try working retail. Try working retail during a holiday. Trust me. Working retail and becoming disgusted with the general consumer was enough for me to vow to never again work in a job where I had to deal with Joe Shmoe at the ripe old age of twenty one. If I did I knew I would hate the world at large if I continued to deal with people wearing their worst face; the consumer.

The conversation changed and the sales lady mentioned Wal-Mart. She tried really hard, honest she did, not to make a face. She just couldn't pull it off. I told her not to worry. I hate Wal-Mart. I refuse to shop there.

I have many friends that refuse to shop at Wal-Mart. My friends have very good social - political reasons for not going in that store. I agree with their reasons. You probably know these reasons. I'll not reiterate. If you don't know, then check out: http://www.1worldcommunication.org/Walmart.htm or my favorite http://www.intellectualpoison.com/WalMartisPureEvil.html .
Then watch http://www.walmartmovie.com/ .

All these reasons are sound and are cause to choose carefully where you shop. However, my reasons not shop at Wal-Mart are aesthetic. The stores are dirty, not well lighted, and completely disorganized. Nothing is intuitive about shopping in Wal-Mart. You will never be able to find anything in this store. (If you can find stuff in there, you've shopped there too much.) There is a science to laying out a store. Wal-Mart chose a layout that is conducive to Wal-Mart not the consumer.

That's my point really; the reason I don't shop at Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart treats people like consumers not customers. Wal-Mart forgets that one of the tenets of business is customer loyalty, gained by numerous factors that include customer service. Low prices only guarantee loyalty when someone else cannot meet your price. (Now go check out the sites above) Why should I shop at a place that does not care about my business? Exactly, I shouldn't.

Well, the sales associate whom I was speaking with gave me a scary tidbit of news. Wal-Mart is planning to open a bank.

Slapping my hand to my forehead...

Thanksgiving, Kristna, and Harry Potter

For me Thanksgiving dinner is all about casseroles. No, I'm not a vegetarian. I just love the casseroles. I know this is not what Thanksgiving means, but I look forward to the green bean casserole, the sweet potato soufflé, and whatever other veggies can be combined in some magical, maybe not so healthy, concoction to be served at this stuff yourself silly meal. This year especially I was looking forward to the comfort food meal of all meals.

In the effort to get healthy and lose weight, my mom joined a group that taught her what it means to become a vegan. My mom encourages me to say that she is not a vegetarian because she is not sure that she will maintain it, but my mom is certainly sticking by it so far.

This Thanksgiving the magical casserole was vegetarian chili and whole wheat cornbread, mashed sweet potatoes with orange juice (do not attempt this at home), and raspberries for dessert. I stuck to the chili and the dessert which were delicious.

Mom and I spent Thanksgiving quietly. Called relatives and wished them happy. It snowed making being in front of a fire with spiced cider comforting. We thought about getting up and facing the mad shoppers on Friday (the mall in Maine opened at 1:00 am), but being the lazy ,we like sleep sort and have never gotten up that early to shop, we missed the saving insanity.

We did go out to see the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire movie Friday night as both mom and I are fans. Recommend this one.

Came home on Sunday to see the lighting of the Christmas tree in Newburyport's, my small city by the sea, downtown. It was a grand occasion and a first for me in Mass. I always miss it because of extreme forgetfulness. This year I happened to see the crowd and was reminded.

My town's lightening of the tree is a not the hoopla that marked the past lightings in Atlanta I've been to. One year my friends and I went and watched the final lighting of the tree at Rich's. The tree would be lighted elsewhere after that 1991 Thanksgiving. We watched the lighting and then danced in the streets with the Harry Kristnas. That's a Thanksgiving weekend I'll never forget.

Newburyport does the lighting a little differently. Santa comes into town by boat and then is paraded around town in his sled. He meets up with various charchters. This year Snoopy, Peekachu, Felix the Cat, and Minnie Mouse met Santa in the town square. An odd assortment of friends to be sure. They rally the crowd of about 200 into Christmas carols and then the tree lights.

Not the Kristna Thanksgiving but a nice one.

Sex Epidemic

Today the news at 11:00 p.m. will air a story about all the people in the world that have on-line sex. My God, on-line sex is a freakin epidemic. Who knew?

This news story will teach you to recognize the signs. This newscast will teach viewers how to catch and prevent this phenom.

My god -- the horror of it all...

Snort.

Must not laugh, but it's just too hard not to.

Got to love the local news.

Cookie Dough Hell

Today has been a bad day; the bad day from hell. A cookie dough day. The day where cookie dough is all you should /need to eat. I am an emotional eater. And the last two weeks have been a doozy. Doozy meaning everything came at me that could come at me. EVERYTHING. Personal, professional, emotional. God Damn weeks.


The final straw was my prescriptions. (Yes I know I sound old or geeky, but I am the one who has to live with the pills since I was a kid.) I went to get asthma meds today and the weenie heads gave me a prescription that I did not ask for. An older one that apparently took the place of the med that I needed and asked for.

I threw a tantrum. Threw a shoe against a wall in my home. Actually it was both shoes. Felt good. Haven't thrown anything in 10 years much less had a tantrum and become the whiny bitch of a mess witnessed by me today.

Too many bad events have taken place consecutively, thank God not concurrently, for anything as stupid as a wrong prescription to send me over the edge and right into cookie dough.

Feel the need to barf. Excuse me.

Amerikan Passport by Reed Paget

An independent film, released in 1999 with commentary overlaid in 2001, Amerikan Passport takes the viewer around the world with Paget through 1989-1991, where the world changed on all fronts; Tiananmen Square, re-unification of Germany, Gorbachev's perestroika and dissolution of the communist party, Iraq's invasion of Kuwait, the first Gulf War, El Salvador, the abolishment of South Africa's apartheid, etc...

The incredible reality in this documentary is accompanied by a surprising candid commentary from Paget that is lacking in most of today's journalists. Paget lets his subjects make his points. He laughs at the intolerance of the prejudiced by balancing the interviews with the eludidating intelligence of the people in the heart of change. He also laughs at himself.

Paget's travels take him to 20 different countries in one of the most politically charged times asking if the US is doing right or wrong in these countries, or sometimes Paget lets the camera simply watch the events taking place. The answers and observations might surprise viewers of this film.

I won't keep spinning this film in my own direction, but I will strongly urge people to watch it. If you can't catch it on the Independent Film Channel, try and order it. I warn you Netflix won't have this film.

Interview with Paget: http://www.indiewire.com/people/int_Paget_Reed_990813.html

The Persistence Of Evil

I am reminded lately that the definition of evil is when good people do nothing. I have recently run into someone who relies on this definition to manifest evil. Do I believe she is evil? Do I believe she thinks she is doing good? I have no idea. I do not know what her intentions are. *

This woman came into our work place with a smile and a friendly attitude. After about six months, we noticed some idiosyncratic tendencies. She was proud of being a snitch, a former side function of her last occupation. Frequently, she would tell her fellow employees that with a smile that personal phone calls, laughter, and friendly conversation in the office place were impermissible. Anyone having a personal phone call should be terminated. All conversations should be business related. People should also not take vacations for more than a week at a time. (We have people who been working on projects 16-18 hours a day for over a year. The same people are the ones who need a month off not a mere two weeks.) Management by fear is this woman's mantra.

Yet she is not in a position of power to enforce these beliefs. Many people have ignored her ramblings because she is not in a position of power. My belief is that the action of ignorance has caused the constant repetition of her words take root in people who could give her power.

The funny dichotomy here is that this woman works in sales. Sales, a place, where often to make a sale, employees schmooze with their customers to keep up a good relationship. Also the actions that she is most intolerant of, this woman engages in whole heartily.

What I find most insidious is this woman's belief that she can prey on less willful personalities with her bullying tactics and then try to enlist them in support of her attempts to gain power. Her strategy here is clear: fear will motivate people to rally around her. She however does not employ this strategy with the people in more powerful positions that she wishes to aspire. She cajoles them; brings them coffee, makes phone calls to confirm dinner reservations, etc. This woman is not a secretary. She is a sales woman.

If someone is not working up to her standards, she attacks them in some shocking ways. One man at work she reproofed with a racial slur for not getting back to her "right away". Our non-European international locations have been ignored by her on urgent matters causing them to call upon others to get the work done. Our customers have been degraded when they have made mistakes. This woman would prefer to take product that was returned accidentally and resell it to another customer. To say the least, her customer service ethics are questionable.

To be accurate her overall morals are despicable. I find her morally offensive and am constantly looking for ways to challenge her prejudice and conduct professionally.


*On a side note, I do believe that most people in the world do not lean toward the pejorative. Most of us are trying to live our lives with no ill will.

Traveling

I am boarding a plane, again.

This time I am not sure how I feel about it

The newness of this world is exciting and calming.

I look for what's around the corner or above.

I can take the scenery for what it is which wild and beautiful.

There's more here, and I want to explore it.
The only problem is I don't know if I will see it again.

I want to move with the wind, push my limits.
And I want to explore and find the details of what is front of me.

I am a little bruised.
I need to find out how to use my legs.

Will I learn how high I can climb?
Will there be a next level?

If I can get through my doubts and insecurity, maybe I can glimpse the magic, again.
Even if it's a different place.

Do the doubts vanish with closeness of being held in what is security?

I fly with these clouds again.
I see the vastness of their landscape; their hills, valleys, oceans and mountains.

Sun sets and sun rises here on this flight as well.

Surprises

I was visting my mom in Maine recently. We had just come back from breakfast when we heard a boom outside. I immediately knew what caused the sound and raced outside. The Blue Angels were a part of the airshow at the naval base 20 minutes from my mom's house.

I stood for outside for twenty minutes while I watched these pilots perform aerodynamic gymnatics. I got a thrill listening for engines of the planes and watching them coming come out of the corners of the sky, sometimes up the middle from below the treeline. Once in sight came the telltale sonic boom.

I got lost in the happy joy of watching something so unanticipated.

Fly

When I was between six and ten, I was positive I could fly. I would have dreams where I would be walking on air. I could lie on my back and drift along air currents like I did ocean currents at the beach. I'd soar till the mountain tops where eye level. I buzz past them just to nick the ice off the edges. Between ten and twelve, I knew that I had flown and could fly again occasionally. My dreams, so vivid, would be walking down stairs and never touching the concrete of them. I would walk the earth and not touch the ground. Sometimes, I'd fall, but I never gave up trying to have those dreams. Somewhere in those last two years, I began to grow up. I still remember the moment my feet left the earth. I remember the exhilaration of the wind in my face and being lifted higher. Sometimes, I recreate those dreams when a plane takes off. I remember in a dozen different ways; whenever the breeze caresses my face, whenever I am entrenched in a moment of a smile, when I laugh... I fly.

Handshakes

I recently ran into some coworkers in the square of my town. They had a friend that I did not know. I was introduced and promptly held out my hand as way of greeting. The friend took my fingers with the edge of her fingers and thumb. Ick. The grip was limp, and thank god, quick. I was left with the feeling of complete non-interest, in not only me but her surroundings.

I had heard that one could tell a lot about a person from their handshake. I've been told that many women will apply a power grip when meeting a powerful man. Then there are men and women whose grip is barely there. Of course my favorite is the cordial handshake; not strong but not limp; firm and relaxed.

I often ignore handshakes in making a judgment about a person. They are indicators of who the person may be, but not the most reliable. However, a limp grip, though not great, is still preferred to the one I received the other day.

I talked with my coworkers, laughed with them, and then went on my way. I am left with the impression of complete distaste from the woman I was introduced to. I take it as a lesson that a handshake conveys more than I perhaps realized.

Fear

Fear affects us all. It's as powerful a motivator as anything else. Yet, fear can also stop us in our tracks.

I have always tried not let fear control my behavior. Too often, however, I am driven underground ignoring what needs my detailed attention. This behavior last too long. Before long I get bored; slowly taking on the process of giving my attention to vanquish the fear.

Setbacks are just that until the setbacks take a back seat. I overcome them by ignoring the fear and jump in with both feet without looking. I swim through the mess until it is conquered.

My fear is not gone; it is temporarily ignored.

The Electric Beach

As a person who has never tanned before, has so little melatonin that I glare whiteness, I decided to go to the electric beach and find out once and for all if I could tan. People I've met have always said that everyone can tan and maybe they are saying this cause they've never seen others use shades to stop the glare of their bare white legs. Or they've never seen others stand by them in order to catch rays that are bouncing off them.

I've been to the tanning booth eight times now. I've burned twice. I've watched my arms, my back, and even my stomach get darker, more freckled. My legs however remain glaring white. They won't tan. Not to say I'm tan I now. I am dark enough to look like other normal looking white people who have not been in the sun.

I asked the guy who owns the place if there was anything I could do to get my legs less white. I have dreams of wearing skirts and shorts in the summertime. He said to stop shaving and then gave me a sunless tanning cream.

I have never been able to use sunless tanners because I can't apply them well. I always end up looking like I have permanent muddy legs. I have to wear socks and slacks in the middle of summer.

I'm at the point where I am going to try the spray on tanning booths. There at least I know my legs will be covered.

Dancing in Other's Domesticity

Much needed vacation came last Thursday on a flight to New Orleans. One of my best friends, a soul sister really, came to pick me up with her kids. We jetted into the city, sampled some Cajun cooking, and walked through and around the French Quarter. We then headed back to her home in Mobile.

I found the time to relax walking in my friends' lives. Even the errands we did and cleaning up baby puke took me so far out of myself that I could enjoy life from a fresher perspective. We went dancing, gambling, took in a yoga class, spoiled kids, and sat on a brand new couch reading. I found myself remembering what I liked about the South. Enjoyed the Spring of it all.

There is a paradox that takes place on vacation. I am not in my life anymore, but am more completely myself than the faces I put on day to day. My break brings more realness and grounding that breathes life back into who I am. The love that I find from those dearest to me, I find coming from me to them.

I am relaxed again.

Dancing in San Diego

I am on a plane, again, with only three hours of sleep. My brain is functioning but I am not sure how. Kisses maybe. Ego possibly. Probably both.

I was in California for the umpteenth time for business. I flew in for a 3 hour meeting. Stupid I know. This time, however, a friend of mine was also in San Diego on business. I took a half day off work and went to go meet her.

The afternoon started peacefully enough. We sat in the hot tub over looking the Pacific talking about boys. She had received some mixed male attention the night before. We did the girl thing and analyzed the hell out of his behavior. As the sun started to sink into the horizon, we went inside to get ready for dinner and dancing. We were both feeling in the need of some decidedly male attention and dressed for it.

After dinner we went to a bar which had a live band. The band was playing a bluesy rock. I got male attention there, but not the kind I was seeking. An older man, old enough to be my father, had his friends ask me seven ways from Sunday to dance. Now I have heard both guys and girls say that attention for the most part can't be bad. I am inclined to agree. I found it flattering, but there comes a point when unwanted attention becomes annoying. (I also had the feeling that if I went dancing with the guy my friend would be the next target of this trio and I also knew she was definitely not into them.) I was forcibly taken out on the dance floor by the third member of the trio. After I was let alone for a minute, the first of the trio asked what it took for a nice guy to get a pretty girl to dance. My reply is succinct; how many times does a girl have to say no before she is taken seriously. The question worked wonders.

My friend and I moved on to a bar that was playing 80's music. My friend and I are children of the 80's so we had found a dancing home. My friend got asked to dance right away. We both were dancing giddily to beats of our favorite songs.

Before long our world was crashed, not unhappily, by my friend's friend and his cousins. The boys were younger than us but a lot of fun. Handsome hot guys and wanting to party like only those in their twenties can. Two of the guys are most likely major players. I watched as one or the other hit on almost every girl we passed.

The guys hated the eighties music and insisted we go find another place; a club that was playing hip hop. Three clubs later and one side trip back to the eighties club, we finally found the club we were looking for. Here we danced until 1:00, club closing time.

In all, we let loose and had fun. I received some of the much gratifying male attention that I needed. One of the boys received some dedicated female attention. One spent his time looking for female interest. The other guy spent half the time guarding our purses and the other half hunting down girls.

I learned that players on the hunt are entertaining at least from the sidelines. I realized that kissing a wickedly hot guy can banish some ghosts and sometimes women just need to have a little faith in themselves to remember they've got game too.

Choices

I 've been re-reading some letters I have. They are beautiful letters, full of choices. I haven't picked up these letters for a long time. I did only so recently because of the massive reflective state I am in. I read the letter's sentences and wonder why something so beautiful was not right and did not endure. The person who wrote these ideas mirrored my feelings if not my reasons.

Many people think that love is that something that just happens. I did, once upon a time. The word 'just' degrades it. For something so magic too come apart and unravel, I wonder why the friends and family I have now (also full of magic); still hold water. Why do these interactions work. It's always a choice that is mutally agreed upon.

These people, who are precious to me, are always moving forward in life as we all are. Yet to keep the relationship and build it over time, we constantly decide to reconnect. We continually try. I make a choice everytime I think of the people in my life to keep them there. They do the same.

There are lulls, especially with those people who are geographically distant to me. (Silence freaks me out even though I know the lulls are natural. Silence is most likely to be a deal-breaker for me when it is not a lull.) When I realize that I am in a lull, I probably try too hard to reconnect. However, it is still a decision to connect each and every time. Mostly, I am lucky with these relationships because they still exist.

I make the same choice with those who are no longer in my life. It's, again, a mutually agreed upon choice. For the most part, I stress over these decisions. The not talking breaks my heart each and everytime it is made. Some I hope are mendable. Some I know are forever lost.

Love never dies even if it remains trapped in time. I make the choice to keep loving though a part of me will remain trapted as well.

Those I love now are people who have helped me grow and stand. I hope I have given back to them the same.

I reflect on my letters and am reminded that the world has these choices as well. I think the knowledge is important. Life is a choice that is made every second of every day. The connection to others, happiness, sadness, and love.

Snow

Freshly fallen snow. I woke up to a world covered in white. Immediately I threw on a pair of jeans and sweatshirt and walked to my new coffee place for a French toast bagel and, of course, coffee.

As I walked down the sidewalk, I stepped in those footprints left by someone who had arisen before myself. It's easier to walk in someone's else prints. Snow drifts don't catch you by surprise. You can't disturb the sugar that's still so crisp and angelic surrounding the markings left by another soul.

After I picked up the coffee and bagel, I turned off the main street and ventured on the side streets. Here no-one had been. Snow undisturbed. I walked along the street admiring the smoothness and reflected light of the whiteness.

I remembered Frost's words, "the road not taken". I was on that road and yet no-one would know that I had been here. I left no marks. With that haunting my head, I hopped onto the sidewalk and the fresh snow.

My footprints came out of nowhere. Pure snow and then snowboot prints. I left my trail. The snow keeps the memory of my path. The prints are also there in case someone needs a place to walk.

An American in Paris

That's a bit of an understatement. Paris is littered with Americans in February. I am just one of the many now in love with this beautiful place and the people. All day people have had a ready smile and have helped me when I have butchered the language.

Paris fills itself with life; the opulent and smoky. Life that balances and make one appreciate all it's aspects. Maybe I just appreciate a place with as much love of coffee as I have. But where else can you sit back sipping a double coffee with creme enjoying the Seine or a park in the middle of winter? I have a feeling that Paris must get really cold for cafes to close their outdoor patios.

Here the taxi drivers yell at drivers who zig zag through traffic in front of them laughing immediately afterwards. Parisans enjoy the insaneness that is driving here. All the cars even the Mercedes have nicks on them.

I went to the Musee d'Orsay to embrace the Impressionists. (Van Gogh's Le Nuit, et Toile brought tears to my eyes.) The art is roped off but so closely to the walls that you can stick your nose close to them. No guard comes running and yells at you for being too close. Students sit on the floor and try to copy the masters on these walls. Many visitors to the museum are young.

The Champs Elysees is crowded. People cover every square inch of space on cool Saturday afternoon. Men and women in equal numbers walk the perfumery as any shop on this street where it is an easy distance from the L'Ouvre to the Triumph d'Arch.

Yes life here is good. My theory is: if you can see the Eiffel Tower, life cannot be bad.

Realizations from 30 + inches of snow

1) Maybe watching the playoffs is a good idea
2) Your house is your home.. for at least two days
3) Tea and hot chocolate are your best friends
4) It's not the best time to realize that your snow boots and shovel are in the car
5) Wearing your Falcons' sweatshirt is a great way to show support... oh wait ..they lost in the playoffs?..... anyhow it is a great way to stay warm. GO PATS!
6) Thermals really do work
7) Coffee and asthma really do go together
8) Coffee and 5 degrees really do go together
9) Snow drifts that are taller than you, natural or from a snow plow, are impressive if not a little scary
10) Funny stupid hats are no longer funny... they are ingenious devices that really keep your head warm
11) You develop an appreciation for ski masks
12) When walking in the cold, bring tissues. You'll know what I mean when you go inside somewhere
13) When your car finally gets plowed out, remember to bring your license and money
14) People are cooler when you shovel out together

Death

Our nation has been involved in a war for about 3 years now. Our media continues to cover our war; however, they do it almost casually. The media makes the deaths of our soldiers seem as if it is something the public should expect; that life is no more than a duty performed by someone unnamed and unseen.

Our media's attitude is a horror. Life should have more respect. Respect for someone's death should be a reverence for that person's life. When did callousness become acceptable?

This observation was not made by me. It was made by a friend. As I watch the snowcapped moutains, majestic and awe inspiring even as the snow slowly disappears in the recent warmth, the observation concerns me.

I am thinking about death more as I mourn the loss of someone close to me. Nobody likes death, but most of us accept it as a natural process of life. When someone we love dies, it affects each of us in various ways. Death, to me, means that someone is now out of my life; a soul I can no longer connect with; a presence missing; a void. I try not to think about it and am discontent when I have to deal with death. I cannot calmly discuss someone's death or death in general. It provokes and saddens me.

Every person has worth. When thinking about people who willingly put their lives at stake, their life is honored by the highest orders. Death is a loss to every link in the human chain that they have touched.