I Can Hear You

The writing contained in this post is my opinion and my opinion only. It doesn't not reflect the opinions of my employer or co-workers.

I realize that in the current economic climate, I should be glad to have a job. And I am -- if only you could hear yourself. American people you have completely lost your manners. Not a day goes by that I'm not shocked by the lack of couth you display. I wonder if you'd want someone talking to your mother, sister, daughter the way you speak to me?

A few weeks ago the switchboard lit up like mad. We were crushed with calls wondering what on earth was going on, how long was it going to last and YES, it was an emergency you stupid bitch how dare you ask such a thing? Nuclear? Nope. Flood? Nope. Hurricane? Nope. The Fox Network feed went down during the Pittsburgh Penguin game.

When you're in the drive-thru at your favorite restaurant ordering a number 7 with a large diet, I think you're an ass.

Put down the chips for a minute you lardy so I can understand what the f*ck you're trying to say without having to ask you to repeat it three times, all the while hearing you crunching and visualizing you spitting bits of potato into the phone.

Mr. Lawyer, I realize you charge by the hour but do you realize I charge by the MINUTE? This makes me more awesome than you and your arrogant attitude about having to leave a message.

All those 800 numbers on signs by the side of the road offering to sell you a house with no money down? I answer those calls. It's never going to happen - it's a scam. There is no such thing as something for nothing.

Cocky bastard who thinks my voice is just so sexy and you'd love to meet me? You demand that I call you after work? NOT going to happen. Douchebag.

Hey mother with small children? When you're calling to apply for a job and your kid is screaming in background so you tell it to shut the hell up and get out? Probably not the best first impression. Or when you're standing in traffic attempting to contact someone for an interview and you have to scream louder than the cars honking around you? Great judgement!

Ignorant New Yorker? Yes, ALL of you. Just because I can't answer your question about a Derek Jeter autographed picture that includes some AUTHENTIC Yankee Stadium dirt (it's soil, you ignoramus) does not make me a f*cking moron. Pretty much it just confirms that you are.

Super obvious drug addict? I love when you call for a refill on your prescription because you "lost" the last one and I tell you that I'm afraid that's not an emergency and you absolutely lose your shit all over the phone. I love it.

He'll get money for you? Do you think he's sitting by the phone 24/7 just in case you call? Nope, that's me.

Dear sweet person who is caring enough to call when you locate a lost dog, you are awesome! It feels good to hear the excitement of the owner on the line when I tell them their dog has been found.

Old man who just needs someone to talk to? You can call me anytime. I know you're alone and a simple phone call about your hearing aid turns into a 15 minute conversation about flowers -- those are fantastic. I'd even give up my wage in the hope that I made you feel just a bit better for a few minutes. That IS my pleasure.

See? I'm not all bad.

I'm Someone's Mum

Each and every one of us has experienced love in some shape or form and if we're very lucky, we've experienced it more than once.

As a child I loved my grandparents, my parents and my sisters. This love then grew to involve outside influences, a first boyfriend, second, third, etc. The ultimate evolution of this feeling is when we decide there is one person we wish to spend the rest of our lives with. 'Til death do us part and all that.

I can honestly tell you I have never felt love the depth of which I have for my children. How can you? I never imagined I'd feel anything so intense, so all consuming, so much fun. The best thing I've done in my life is have & raise my kids - my almost adult kids. The love I feel when I look at them is something no one can explain. The pride. They don't even have to be doing anything special. Just sitting across the table from me at dinner, cracking jokes and teasing each other. Them allowing me to be involved in all of that is the most pleasure I've ever felt and I imagine I'll ever feel. Don't get me wrong there have been some really difficult times and raising them in this world wasn't easy, but all of the bad things we've been through and all the tough times make the good ones even better.

He's the last one. I'm done with excuses, teacher meetings and report cards. On May 29th, my son graduated from high school. I was so overcome with emotion I couldn't stop crying. Thinking about it now makes my eyes moist. Even my daughter cried. A lot. The end of an era. We all felt it that night.

The Jeannette Spirit has well chronicled my kids lives. Every year or so one or the other have been immortalized in the pages. I couldn't have asked for more from this event. My son made the front page. The first time either of them have graced the cover. And more than likely the last time.

The picture was captured at a perfect moment. Can you pick him out?

Must You Use A Gross Metaphor?

I've been absent, I know. I've also been exceptionally unhappy. To most of the world I've been normal ol' me. To those "in the know" I've been a conflicted, ridiculous mess. Public tears aren't something I do. EVER! I've done it three times in less than three weeks.

I think the time has come for me to face it. All of it. Everything that I've been coasting around the past 4 or so years is finally coming to a head. Pop it. Pop it and watch the puss spew and explode!

I don't want to get into what's been going on. I think putting it out there will make it all so very real, if possible MORE real than it already is. I've done that once this week and I think that's plenty. Instead of wallowing, I've thrown myself into creating and I've completed an odd-looking sock monkey. It's without question a male. Not for any particular reason either. He just is.

The monkey's development over the past week has mirrored a bit of what I've been going through and if you follow me on Facebook you've read all about his (and my) growing pains. It's simple irony that it happened as it did (me and the monkey), but it's allowed me to express some issues through the creation of an inanimate object (or is it?).

I'll be sure to post pictures when I manage to get them from the SD card to the PC.

Semisonic

I love how you can hear him inhale. I love the odd background vocals. I love the synthesizer at the beginning. I love the chorus. I loved the mix tape Pete made for me when we were dating. To say I love this song is an understatement.

I didn't even know a video for this song existed until I was searching the Internet for lyrics. Music plays such an important part in my life and when I hear this song it puts me in such a great place. I refuse to say happy place.

Got your tape and it changed my mind
Heard your voice in between the lines
Come around from another time
Where nobody ever goes

All alone on the overpass
Wired and phoned to a heart of glass
Now I'm falling in love too fast
With you or the songs you chose

And all the stars
Play for me
Say the promise you long to keep

I can hear you sing it to me in my sleep
I can hear you sing it to me in my sleep

I've been living in your cassette
It's the modern equivalent
Singing up to a Capulet
On a balcony in your mind

In the City the lion sleeps
Pray to Sony my soul to keep
Were you ever so bright and sweet
Did you ever look so nice

And all the sounds
Dream for me
Dive me down in a soul so deep

I can hear you sing it to me in my sleep
I can hear you sing it to me in my sleep

Where Does The Time Go?

I used that title for several reasons not the least of which is that my son graduates from high school before the end of this month and my daughter will be done with her second year of college. Who am I? Who are they?

Not a day goes by that I don't find it difficult to believe that I'm as old as I am, doing what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with (no I don't mean that in a "naughty" way). It's been a year since I gave up the insurance biz and 6 months since I left the UK to return to the US for what was going to be a few weeks.

Who's life is this and why is it so complicated? I don't do complicated and I've done nothing to stop it - in fact, I've encouraged it. It gives me headaches & a sore tummy to think about it. Even though I can be temporarily distracted by my job, I find thinking about my situation takes up most of my waking hours. I also find that I'm working on coming up with reasons to un-complicate my life. Yes, that means what you think it does. No, I will not confirm it.

The constant distraction, the "possibilities" have taken their toll. The longer I'm here, the more I want to stay here and the less I want to go back. Some days I remember how I was 15 years ago with my little kids and a little life. But it was organized and structured - two things I need to survive. Looking back now of course I realize that a lot was missing, but a lot was there too. I loved my organization and structure. These days I have neither. The stress is making me crazy.

I can't imagine having the kind of stability in the UK that I have here. Here is safe and familiar and even if I fall on my face, the ground is home. Yes, this is how I talk myself out of going back.

The Grammar Wizard is familiar with some of this, but not all. He knows that I love organization and stability, but he doesn't know that my thoughts of not going back are growing stronger by the day. It has nothing to do with my feelings for him and everything to do with home. I never realized how strong the pull is, how comfortable I am in my monstrosity of a house. That even though this job isn't much, I actually like it. I'm proud of a good day's work. There's no stress and I HEART no stress. I heart no stress a lot. UK? Full of stress. F*ck me. Again.

F*cking Cancer Bastard

I got word today that another dear person has cancer. Cervical cancer.

I don't expect to go through my life without disaster, honestly I don't. But why can't it be the people who deserve it? I don't care if it makes me a bad person to think that there are people on this planet who deserve to have bad things to happen to them. There are and they do.

How about those people who abuse children? Or animals? People who commit heinous crimes against each other and humanity? Those who constantly take and never give back? Those who think the world owes them? Can you tell I'm upset?

People who are buying their own home, people who don't have children shouldn't get a cancer that will prevent them from ever having their own babies. People who are just regular, you know, they go to work, do their thing and don't make a huge fuss. They roll with the punches. I'm sure they'll roll with this punch too. This sucks.

Next Sunday I'm doing the breast cancer walk. I don't contribute to the big charities because there are too many CEOs that get bloated wages, but this is different. I'm doing it with my daughter, my sister, niece and friends. I'm partially excited. It's my first one and it's filled me with a lot of emotions - not that I'll ever be able to think about any sort of cancer without it hitting me in the heart.

If you're doing the walk, look for me. I'll be displaying my feet proudly. Oh, and I'll be wearing pink.

Bits And Bobs

I walked into Coffee Bean today and the barista had my iced tea waiting for me. Two things - YAY! and uh oh.

The Grammar Wizard misses me - a lot - which I appreciate as I miss him too. However, he has a million reasons (bloody excuses, I say) why he can't come here now. Or next week. Or next month. He's taken on the position of employer and hired my mate Andy to paint the inside of his house. Work hasn't been plentiful for Andy these days so they're doing each other a favor. Andy gets work & paid and John gets a job done that he didn't want to do himself.

The Airman

My local pub in the UK is now under new management. It appears the Airman landlord with the American wife has been separated from his position, today's new politically correct bullshit term for FIRED. Can't say I'm surprised. He was a bit of a douchebag toward the Grammar Wizard, who has very traditional idea about how a pub landlord should behave and he wasn't afraid to tell him so, which made the nontraditional landlord pissy and put me in the middle because I saw nothing wrong with how he behaved. Then again, I'm American and know very little about pub life/culture - except that I LIKE IT! heeh.

Loose Ends

When Greg passed away he left a lot of loose ends. One of those "ends" I had the ability to "tie up," but at the time I wasn't sure I wanted the responsibility. After many weeks of debate, I decided to do the wrong thing and not keep my nose out of it.

I knew this man better than most people did because we were able to confide secrets in one another without fear. I knew of one of his most recent involvements - a married woman. The involvement that eventually ended his marriage. An acquaintance of mine from many years ago.

Greg was no saint. Sinners didn't come much bigger and knowing this allowed me to keep my distance from him in a romantic sense, yet still be his good friend. Thank heavens. I joked with the Grammar Wizard about "dodging a bullet with that one." I was pleased they were able to meet one another when John was here in December. It was an odd, intense few moments.

Finding this woman wouldn't be impossible, but it would require me to make a few phone calls that I didn't want to make as they would stir a pot I wanted to leave settled. I didn't know whether she knew or not, so what I was doing could possibly be unnecessary and leave me once again visible to people I was fine with never hearing from again. Something told me to do it. My guess is that it was someone told me to do it.

I got up the courage and made the calls. It wasn't pleasant and now people have my phone number I'd rather didn't, but like I said, I felt like it was something I had to do. I asked that she contact me without giving reason, as I respect that she's still with her husband (as far as I knew). To my utter shock, my request was granted without hesitation and she phoned me later that night.

We knew each other from a "previous" life, so she wasn't hearing from a stranger. She had a feeling why I was calling and as I feared she was unaware of what happened. Not only did I have to tell her about his death, but I had to confirm that he couldn't keep his big mouth shut. I assured her that I'd known all along and I wouldn't break that confidence regardless of current situations. Our conversation was intense. She had some questions that I was able to answer and sadly my responses weren't what she wanted to hear. Their approaches to their relationship were polar opposite. He lied to her. A lot and often. She knew how he was and got involved anyway. I apologized for sharing such bad news with her. Making that call gave me closure. I said farewell. I thought.

While I was at work last night she phoned me twice with more questions. I didn't get the very long and detailed messages until it was too late to return her calls. I'm not sure how to approach this now. I'm no counselor and god knows I've been dealing with his death in my own complicated way - as his friend and as a mother to my son whose been watching his good friend deal with the death of a parent.

I don't know if I can clean up this mess for you my dear dead friend, but I'll do what I can. I still miss your sorry ass. A lot.

500

It's my 500th post. Time for a bit of a catch up.

I've been busy working at my new job. It's not bad and in the real world my "Team Leader" and I would be awesome friends. We have a ton in common. I would love to just hang out with her. Unfortunately, she's in it for the long haul and I'm not. Shame, really. I've been offered a full-time position with the organization and after much internal strife, I've decided to take it. No bennies, just the extra hours. Extra hours = extra money. Me likey.

The Grammar Wizard has given me a new nickname. Technobabe. I was able to help him upgrade his friend's computer (a task he'd have never even attempted prior to me) over the telephone and he was mad impressed and do you know why? Of course you do - because I'm mad impressive.

We celebrated my friend Lorraine's birthday at Big Dogs on Wednesday night. Her husband Bill does the karaoke that evening. Not one of us sang a note. I did, however, find my new favorite alcoholic beverage. I have no clue what it's called, but its a shot that tastes like chocolate cake. Please sir, may I have some more? Nom nom nom.

I've pretty much given up on Plurk. No reason other than I've completely lost interest in it. Maybe it'll come back? My interest, I mean.

Is the world full of bad news? Is there nothing good going on anywhere? The only time I watch (if you could call it that)news is when I'm at the Coffee Bean and they have CNN or Fox on their large TV. I'm growing weary of all the negativity in the world. The Grammar Wizard refuses to have anything to do with news programming and I'm getting to the point where I don't blame him. I like knowing what's going on in my world, but not to the detriment of my sanity.

My kids are still awesome.

I've been making a list and gathering items for the annual garage sale at my sister's house that takes place in May. I missed it last year and was disappointed. It's always a good time poking fun of the unusual humans who visit to buy our crap.

Plans are beginning to be formulated for my return to the UK. And by plans I mean I'm thinking about it. Finally. The Grammar Wizard is supposed to come here. When? He keeps postponing it. Poor thing hates airports, but mostly despises flying. It's not my favorite thing either but I'd be on the next plane if he'd be on the other end waiting for me -- the longer wait, because it takes me forever to get through security because I'm the one being treated like a criminal by the UK Border agents. From what I've learned in the meantime, I know they would never have sent me back to the US. F*ckers thinking they could intimidate me. Well, they could and did, but won't next time.

I'm still brooding over the loss of my friend Greg. I've stopped crying when I think about his kids but out of habit still look at every motorcycle I see, checking if it's him. Doesn't it suck when you don't realize how much a person truly means to you until you can no longer tell them?

Typical?

Over the weekend my kids went to see the new "Fast and Furious" movie. Not together, but separately. Last night they came together and reviewed it for me.

Daughter - "It sucked."
Son - "It was awesome!"
Daughter to Son - "Of course you'd think that, there were girls making out all through the movie."
Son to Daughter - "What? Really? When?"
Me (under my breath) - "Heeh."

Yes people, my son was looking at the cars, not the girls. Typical 17-year-old boy? Probably not. But the majority of his friends are the same. They prefer their cars and spend a small fortune making them look "nice."

I never had a brother so I don't really know how they're supposed to behave - if there even is one. I only know that my experience as a 17-year-old girl didn't prepare me for either of my kids. The world is so vastly different than it was 26 years ago. We manage though. Fumbling through it one day at a time.

Eric Clapton & A Question

I've never been much of a fan. No reason in particular, just not. Granted, there are the occasional songs that I enjoy that he's written. Would I buy an album or go to a concert? Nope.

Last evening during my nightly conversation with The Grammar Wizard we had a bit of a disagreement. He'd been drinking and is easily bothered. I expressed an opinion and this bothered him.

He was watching some sort of music program about Roy Orbison (one of his favorite artists) on BBC4, the more "alternative" of the Beebs. I like their programming because they have an eclectic mix. I guess there was some sort of interview with Mr. Clapton and the Grammar Wizard couldn't sing his praises loud enough. I allowed him to go on for a while and then I gave him my opinion. I told him that I didn't think it was right that Eric Clapton benefited monetarily from his son's death; that I understood an artist has every right to express themselves in anyway they see fit to deal with their sorrow, but this song in particular, "Tears In Heaven," was about his child dying and he made a lot of money from it. Money that I do not believe went to a charity, but that if it did and I was wrong I'd happily take back my thoughts and revise my opinion. Needless to say the Grammar Wizard was taken aback by my statement. He couldn't believe I could be so cold? His drunk ass was really upset with me! I hung up shortly after this debate as I thought it was hilarious and I was only going to agitate him further by mocking his silliness and overreaction.

OK, so here is my query - if anyone knows that the money from his song "Tears In Heaven" did go to charity, please let me know. I will happily eat my words.

Heading Toward 500

I began this blog in September of 2006 as a way to communicate my thoughts and feelings post chemotherapy. The trauma I'd been going through as a result of having breast cancer was paralyzing. This blog allowed me to, without filter, tell my story and in a small way heal the gaping wound that was my psyche.

I noticed when I began to compose this post that it's number 496. Chronicling my life as it now has become difficult using this medium. I'm no longer able to be completely honest with my writing. It was never my intent to hurt feelings or disturb the peace, but through this blog that's exactly what I've done.

Sometimes saying what people don't want to hear/read is difficult. I know the truth hurts. I've had to deal with loads of truths that are ugly and I'm not alone. We all do. Is perception reality? I know that eventually my children will have opinions of me that aren't what I think they should be. I cannot control that. All I can do is be the best I can right now. It's all any of us can do.

Normally I can deal with my writing being "censored" but this is one of those times I wish it wasn't. So on to other things.

Right now I'm watching two Mexicans play Frogger along Route 30, literally back and forth over the divider several times. There is also a woman all dressed in pink walking backward through the parking lot of Coffee Bean. With each group of motorcycles that passes the cafe I am gripped momentarily with guilt & sadness. It's difficult when one's feelings aren't realized fully until it is permanently too late to do anything with them. I'd like to blaze through a post with meaning that isn't my personal truth. Unfortunately the only thing I'm good at writing is the truth.

I was invited to two different events this weekend and all I wanted to do was sit in my house and watch television. I couldn't bring myself to go anywhere outside of my immediate comfort zone. It is a funk folks.

Out Here In The Boonies

Westmoreland County. Hotbed of inbreeding & poor breeding. Petty thievery & stupidity. Despite that, I like living here. It's quiet and rarely does anyone get up to anything nasty. Well, they do, but they keep it in the family (technically Fayette County, but too close for comfort).

I woke up this morning to the massacre of three Pittsburgh Police officers. I'm not naive, I know this stuff happens, but since when does it happen around here? And so flipping early on a Saturday morning? No rhyme, no reason. Just murder. My very delicate psyche is disturbed on many levels. I was at the coffee shop when the news conference was being held. All eyes were glued to the television reading the closed captioning move across the screen.

I'm watching the conversation on Twitter build and it's therapeutic to know that the city's Twitterers are also very bothered by this morning's developments. Passionately involved.

I need some music. Good tuneage. Enjoy.

Sanford & Son

I've been trying to record a podcast, but all I can do is sing the theme song from "Sanford & Son" into the microphone. I can't even take myself seriously. Seriously.

So Busy!

It's taking a lot of energy for me to get into the hang of working again. I've grown very accustomed to doing things on my own time, when I want. Someone else's schedule? How dare they?!

For now I'll be blogging sporadically, which is pretty much what I've been doing anyway. I wanted to do podcasts, as those are much easier and take a lot less time actually dedicated to the post, but I couldn't get it set up properly before I had to get started on job training.

Employment

I am once again employed. Yes, in the United States. No, I have not abandoned the Grammar Wizard or my intent of living with him in the UK.

It turns out that I am not independently wealthy and it would be nice to have some cash coming back into the house instead of going out all the time. I answered an advertisement in the Tribune Review several weeks ago for a work at home job. I was dubious at first, as most of these things are scams, but I left a nice message in my very best phone voice figuring that if it was garbage, I would be able to sniff it out and be none the worse off. Then again if it was a real opportunity I could be onto a neat thing. I received a call back a day or so later from a real live woman who seemed genuine and wanted to meet with me.

In a tiny little office in Greensburg she conducted the interview, asking about my experience, etc. We chatted and got on well. Turns out was a real job with real potential and yes, I'd work from home. Secretly (always), I hoped I'd get this job and was excited (secretly) about the opportunity. So secret, in fact, that I didn't even blog about it. That's how you know I wanted something - when I don't talk about it until it's confirmed so my disappointment isn't chronicled on the Interwebs for the world to see.

I started my new job yesterday and will train in the tiny office for at least two weeks. It's part-time, no bennies. So for 4 hours a night, 5 nights a week I will be working for an answering service doing all sorts of phone work while sitting in my house at my computer. Of course this is not my life's ambition, but the people are very nice and it's a paycheck -an easy paycheck and who doesn't want one of those?