Saturday, December 06, 2003
just call me 'Q'
Completely futile search for the curling iron. I must have thought - "I'll never grow my hair out again." Toss.I did, however find more books in my stored stuff. Added to Bookcase.
party bits
In thinking over the work christmas party tonight, I've had to sit down this morning and write down the names of all the whiffs (wives). At least the ones I know of. I have the worst memory for names and since I've mostly not met any of the sig others, I need to have them written down somewhere so I can visualise them in my head. I know, I know, there's all sorts of tricks to remember things like that but...I always forget to use them.At work parties there's usually a core group that you 'hang' with but in being a new member of the family and spending a large amount of time bonding with the guys I do most of my work for, I'm sure their wives are wondering about this girl who bullies their husbands into getting things done.
The wonderful thing (well, one of them anyways) about the majority of people at work is that though they are all high-earners, high-power types they stay the same people all the time. After working in government and with so many people who have an inflated idea of their own self-worth, I had promised myself that the job I stayed with would be populated with people who were themselves. No separation between 'work' and 'home' person. Have I mentioned I love them? Lately?
Note to G - since you don't have comments.... thinking of you, it's a hard thing to lose a friend. You are important also, to us. You know where I am if you need anything.
I'm setting down attempt #2 and then I'll be off to hunt out the tiny tiny curling iron. I'm tired of the growingout hair making me look like a q-tip so if I can find the damn thing I'll curl my head tonight.
Day 59 v.2
Friday, December 05, 2003
fried-ay
Thank you to S for sending this link, which explains the dodo mystery. Apparantly, in birdland, proper bird names are not capitalized and so the bird they found was the 'long-legged warbler". I am unaccountably upset that it wasn't the dodo.You know when you wake up in the morning and you think, "Man, wouldn't it be nice to sleep in today?". Well, I made the executive decision to actually do it (since everyone I'm waiting on for work is off/skiing/"working from home" today) I set my alarm for the regular time (with a second for backup) and waking up, thought, "Man, wouldn't it be nice to....oh, yeah, babeeee."
I got to work 10 minutes after T1 (damn) about 10:30. Then, ordered some gift baskets for clients. Then T1 decided that he should buy pizza (for the third time this week - he's in a rut) and beer for the office. Coordination ensued. Then food. Now, it's 2:40 pm and I've had 3 beers, done no work and may just head home at 4.
Honestly, if it paid more, I'd be in heaven.
Shit, who am I kidding? I may be dangerously broke, and 75% of my take home pay may go to basic mortage and bill necessity, but I *am* in heaven.
As T1 was forcing me onto the third beer, we discussed our mutual purposelessness - it's not just me - which is good. And, finding out today that we're switching pay periods from twice a month to every two weeks at least then will allow for those two deceptive 'extra' paycheques a year. Also, starting in June, we'll have an RRSP program that the company will match, so along with the raise that'll kick in March-time, things will get better. Is that...is that a light I see at the end of the tunnel?
I know that I have always maintained that leaving the high-paying crap job was a good decision and one I do not regret. Even while I try to ignore that last year I made twice as much as I do now. I even try to pretend that 12 YEARS ago I didn't make 6,000 more than I do now. Cause, that is just counterproductive to the fact that I LOVE THIS PLACE.
I really *hic* do.
Day 58 v.2
Thursday, December 04, 2003
meaning/purpose/justification
attempt #1
Perhaps the purpose for which I was born is not to write about my life - on paper, privately or on the web, publicly - in an endless search for some elusive universal meaning. That one piece of the puzzle that may help me to understand my life. Or help those who care to understand me. I have to admit, in my more egomaniacal moments, I've even thought I could help others with their own puzzle. It is a mission I have by turns embraced and denied.Instead of striving to make even the tiniest mark on the world or on myself, perhaps I should consider the possibility that the sole purpose for which I was born was to amuse the Munchkin. To save her from a life of abuse and provide her with a sense of security. To be not her master, but her loving sister. To ensure that the silent and monochromatic world she lives in is as safe and wonderful as it can possibly be. To make her strange and difficult life as easy, as full of delight and as comfortable as one could wish.
Perhaps....
That, I think, would constitute a purpose as meaningful to me as most and more noble than some.
It is a door that must be opened so that the view therein can be carefully considered.
luckycharm @ 12:43AM | 2003-12-05| i think this is one of the best purposes for life i've heard from anyone ever.
Chris @ 10:15AM | 2003-12-05| I love the way you write. And that's a great purpose. *hug* PS How are you doin? *wink* Miss you.
jeez
see? it was so traumatic I remember FOUR french hens. But, there must have only been three of us. Cause, all dressed in brown from head to toe, I was *not* a calling bird.my pret-ty
My new cell phone arrived at work today. It's awfully cute. But the instruction booklet is three times the size of the phone and twice as heavy.And I really must get a clippy carry thing for it before I actually use it. Alternatively, I could carry it about it my mouth like a chipmunk.
Is that socially acceptable?
Day 57 v.2
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
pfah
I am cheery lately, no?Beginning of December, what can I say? It's the botheration of Christmas. That defining moment, when at the tender age of five I was forced to be one of the four french hens in a play, and everything's been off the rails since.
Ahh, but 'tis the orifice party this weekend. They do know how to do it up right, these employers of mine. If it were Thanksgiving, I'd be thankful. But since it's Christmas, I'm stabby.
And still without a purpose. Although, helping that dilemma along, I was told today that we should just list me as EA in the North American directory, and not as 'acting'. Reduces the limbo-ness and allows me to concentrate on other things - such as hoping for a good night's sleep and getting on with the hunt for meaning.
I *am* thankful for T2, who helped me immensely with the 'what the hell do I do with that damned locked in pension' money lecture today, even though he's the busiest fella alive. And little SD, who inspired me so that I walked home for the second day in a row. Slippy boots, snow and all.
I've gotta say that this girl makes a twisted sort of sense. (thanks to Metamorphosism for the link)
The dodo thing still bugs me though.
bally - hooooooo!
It really had to be done...My favorite, favorite, smiling-like-a-fool just-thinking-about-it word of the week.
From my favorite word-wizard who lives at Bedbugs and Ballyhoo.
"stop niggling at me, damn it, I'm trying to sleep"
disclaimer: this is in no way meant to elicit a response from said individuals, if they are people who visit my blog. this is my response to my subconscious telling me that I need to work this out. somewhere. this is my perception to deal with and should not be construed as a attempt to engender apologies or explanations. they are not needed. nay, they would be unwelcome.After yet another dream sequence involving being shot at, I'm going to go ahead and assume that to exorcise the little unconscious demon that's stalking me, well, then I've got to babble on into the ether about it. Cause that may be the only way to accept this little hurt and make it go away.
Over the last little while, twice I've had people I trust make offhand and very hurtful comments, directly at me or a choice I've made. I know that not everybody is out to get us, our lives are cluttered with people who wound us in small ways, but both these instances were different than that.
They came from people I've trusted with the way I feel, with how I think and reason things out, whom I trusted to understand me and in whom I've tried to invest the time to reciprocate.
In the period of time that I've withdrawn myself from most people I know, where it became easier to hide everything away rather than be misunderstood yet again, it is still human nature to put one's self on the line, to someone. Only to have it proven ...one...more...time that there really are no non-judgmental relationships. Someone always has to feel 'better'. Someone always has to point out that you made what they consider to be the wrong choice and remind you that they think you were stupid, even while protesting that that's not the way they feel at all. Or even, with no prior indication, the way they really think slips out inadvertently and slaps you right in the face.
So, consider me chastised.
But, understand this... I'm not sorry for what I've done, my reasons for doing it nor the outcomes of my choices. In a lot of ways, I stopped putting myself on the line in the last year. I will never believe that choosing to go out on a limb again is wrong. I'm only sorry that I thought I could share it with you.
Day 56 v.2
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
living in the twilight zone
Today, I....1. went grocery shopping for the five things I can't live without - like food - until payday in roughly 13 more days, while, at the same time paying out $200 for Safeway gift certificates that work is buying for the 'sponsor a family for Christmas' program. They should sponsor me, apparantly. Or give me a raise.
2. received mail from the City of Calgary (which is always a bad sign) which actually said that property taxes were going down. I pay $15 (or 8%) LESS starting Jan 1. I had to sit down and just...breathe...for a while.
3. in the constant back and forth of whether or not I should just get rid of the landline and go cellphoneonly, in chatting with my phone company, the nice lady pointed out that I'd just finished paying for the phone I bought on monthly payments last year. So, now I own a phone I may not need. But, on the other hand, it's $12 less a month to pay.
4. Macleans magazine reports today in a snippet entitled No Dodo that...
But I couldn't find any news items that indicated the Dodo had been found. You'd think that would be pretty high up there, or is that just me? So, is the title misleading, although there is no mention of any other bird type in the sentence? Did they really find a freakin' dodo bird? I was already sitting down for this one, thank god. Well, actually I was reading in the bath, and almost went under and drowned....but, technically, I was not upright.
To my consternation, growing my hair out a bit longer (partly to save money on the 'every three weeks' haircut, partly cause it's mighty cold out there wid no hair, and partly cause, well, I'm female...ergo I go through this every couple of years before I admit that I'm a shortshort hair girl and chop it all off again) means only that it continues to grow straight out from my head. And so does not get longer as much as it gets....bigger. grr, I say. grr, at the hair.
luckycharm @ 1:22PM | 2003-12-04| i had the same type of thing happen...this was in the San Francisco Chronicle about 10 years ago. The article said doctors (forget from where) were going to extract an "alien probe" from a man's brain. I couldn't believe it...it sounded like something you would find some godawful supermarket tabloid. So I waited eagerly for more articles about it. Nothing. Ever again. Now I regret I didn't snip the article out of the paper. Maybe it was just too weird to be true.
another morning
As I raise my head from the pillow and blink my eyes open full into the blinding and abusive light of a Calgary winter dawn, I run an internal systems check.
I find nothing unusual, given the time of day. My lower back aches, my shoulders are tight, there is a pain over my right eye, my brain is swollen by dreams inside my skull. I do a yoga stretch up to the headboard, roll my head to let the whole mess slosh around and, pausing to poke the dog awake, stagger in the direction of the hot, hot water to relax my muscles. It's on occasions like these (ie: the beginning of every day) that I thank God I live alone, for it is a simple fact that I find it difficult to tolerate close contact with others in an increasing amount of circumstances but almost impossible before nine. Unthinkable without caffeine, for without coffee I am incoherent and weak in the morning, snappish by noon and helpless by 3 o'clock.
Waking up in a state of physical suffering is quite simply a side effect of a bad back, and, I suspect, a twisted refusal to give up the duck down feather bed but one which I have learned to live with. And, occasionally, when the budget permits, to marvel in living without.
But, standing in the shower this morning, I searched my mind for a sense of purpose.
And nothing came to me.
This too, thinking back, is not unusual. A phase. Maybe brought on by the Christmas season. Maybe what makes is so immediate, is that now - here- I've forced myself to say it out loud.
And opened up the door to having all of you watch me search to find it again.
Day 55 v.2
Monday, December 01, 2003
exhaustion
I went to sleep last night, one of those sleeps whereupon you doze, dreaming disjointed snippets of real life, for about 20 minutes before jerking awake. Wide awake.This happens to me quite a lot. It is so familiar that I know I will be unable to get back to sleep for a long long time afterwards.
4 hours later, about 5 am, I fell asleep again. Only to dream that a friend (not someone I knew, but someone in the dream I knew to be a friend) went beserk and starting shooting at people. She shot at me and I felt the wind blow by my hand but it was just a scratch. Until she walked closer and shot me almost point blank in the left side of my head. I fell over into the snow and someone told me to play dead so they could drag me away and get me to a hospital. I moved slowly, packing snow into the wound and hissing, "get away from me, I'm dead" frantically to the dipshit that came over to me, attracting the beserker's attention. I was carried out, put on an ambulance and then suddenly left on the side of the road, standing with my hand holding a large pack of snow, still, to the side of my head.
My dream dictionary said something that does make perfect sense but somehow does not dispel the horror of a bullet entering one's own head.
Welcome to Monday.
Day 54 v.2
luckycharm @ 1:17PM | 2003-12-04| that's a horrible dream but for some reason it made me laugh. i think i relate to it all too well.
Sunday, November 30, 2003
Things I didn't do
I've committed a sin.Repeatedly. Consciously. Unconsciously. With good intentions and bad. With forethought and no thought.
It's a sin of omission.
Mostly, it's not something that occurs to me. But, every once in a while, there's that little voice nagging in the back of my mind. That dreadful whispering that there is something immensely important that you should do, that you should say and yet you haven't done.
With each day that passes, it becomes more and more difficult to accomplish, until finally, it passes the bounds of possibility and becomes impossible.
It may not be the worst sin of all possible sins nor up there on the list with the 'classics' but, I think, it may be the one I can least forgive in myself.
Which reminds me of a poem I've had since high school...which says it in a little more roundabout way from a little different perspective.
Remember the day I borrowed your brand new car and I dented it?
And I thought you'd kill me, but you didn't?
And remember the time I dragged you to the beach and you said it would rain, and it did?
I though you'd say, "I told you so". But you didn't.
Do you remember the time I flirted with all the guys to make you jealous, and you were?
I thought you'd leave me, but you didn't.
Do you remember the time I spilled strawberry pie all over your car rug?
I thought you'd hit me, but you didn't.
And remember the time I forgot to tell you the dance was formal and you showed up in jeans?
I thought you'd drop me, but you didn't.
Yes, there were lots of things you didn't do.
But you put up with me and you loved me and you protected me.
There were lots of things I wanted to make up to you when you returned from Vietnam.
But you didn't.
Anonymous
