Concrete Clouds

Puppies and more!

Mon, 19 Sep 2005 17:27:37 GMT

You can see the litter of puppies at: www.snoairekennels.com!

Aren't they cuuuuute? Growing bigger every day! It is for this reason that I'm not on as much as I'd like. But such is the way. Work is rearing it's ugly head and as I maneuver myself into a situation for career development, I find that I'm working more hours than actually physically possible!

Vacation time is almost here, and going back home is something I'm looking forward to.

UPDATE: Oh! I got another flying squirrel! This one is a little boy. He too, hails from Texas. Fantastic breeder down there. He's growing like a weed. His name is Ruger. Winnie (Winchester) doesn't seem to like him though as she continually tries to pee on him. I wonder if she's making a statement, or perhaps that's just the kind of kink she's into? Anyway, he's weening off the bottle onto applesauce and pecans. Very cute. :)

Will try to be more frequent in postings, at least up until vaca!

Final Count

Mon, 12 Sep 2005 13:30:00 GMT

11 puppies
5 boys
4 girls
2 stillborn girls

And it begins...

Mon, 12 Sep 2005 02:48:04 GMT

another boy

And it begins...

Mon, 12 Sep 2005 00:49:20 GMT

stillborn girl. :(

And it begins...

Mon, 12 Sep 2005 00:36:21 GMT

Goodyear aka. Judy has just started to have puppies. 8 so far, four boys and four girls. All with dew claws. All very healthy, some even over a pound! We still feel possibly 3 inside, along with the cannon ball who is going to be one monster puppy. Will let you know as develops.

Life just sucks...

Wed, 03 Aug 2005 13:26:51 GMT

So over the past week, a lot has happened. I went to Cape Cod fishing. That was cool. Got sunburnt, that was hot, and saw my parents which wasn't really a temperature issue considering they have air-conditioning. It was good seeing my mom. She and I went out to lunch, and I got to watch the phenomenon of her packing away a giant dish they have at this one restaurant in Harwich. It's this Vanilla Raspberry Stuffed French Toast. It's 8 slices of french toast with vanilla pudding slathered between each slice, and then it's topped in heaping piles of raspberries and sauce. My mother, 5'11.5", 115lbs packed the whole thing away in like 10 minutes and asked for seconds. It did my heart good to watch her eating like that. She has Crones, which makes it hard for her to put on weight or digest stuff. I then got to see my father, who is looking great since he has gotten out of Rehab. He's going to classes 3 times a week and a therapist once a week. He's working a lot more, and he looks just great. His personality is so different, I have to wonder if I ever knew him 'off' the stuff. I like the new dad much more than the old dad.

Got home a couple of days ago. Twiddled around the house. I dusted, cooked, did some laundry. I mean, for the most part, not a lot needed to be done as we were gone all weekend. Then... last night... it all came to a head.

John was acting fine. He was acting somewhat nice. He sent me out to get a video. I did so, thinking 'Oh good! He's feeling good!' I swung by work and got the greatest news. My background check was clear, so my promotion is going to go through. I had a movie, and good news. Yay... or so I thought. I went home, and as soon as I walk through the door, I run downstairs and give him a big hug, saying: Isn't that great? He then proceeds to yell at me about how the load of dry clothes (still warm, mind you) had not been folded. How dinner was tuna casserole and he had wanted shaved steak and cheese. How I had left the air conditioner on in the bed room (not left. Turned on before I left so it would be nice and chilly for the movie). And how he really didn't give a flying fuck about my promotion (this I already knew).

Sullenly, I went about my work. So much for watching a movie. He got to chill in a nice cold bedroom and watch the movie while I had to do laundry and make his shaved steak and cheese for his lunch the next day (today). Naturally, he doesn't have to work today. I do. I have to work a night shift. You think I'm happy about that? No. But I do it. I do it because that's what's expected of me. I do that, and my school work, and the yard work, and the housework, and cooking, and the cleaning, and nightly massages, and pay the bills... all because I make less money than him, haven't 'paid my dues' as he likes to say, and am the perfect simpering little housewife (except that we're not married).

Life sucks.

A picture is worth a thousand words...

Thu, 21 Jul 2005 00:56:46 GMT

At least, that's what they say. So, realizing I have no recent photos of me that anyone can see on the internet, I decided to take a couple. Now, before your minds get racing, chill. I was fully clothed. Just good ole me, standing for a picture.

Anyway, I was nervous. Scared a little, even. When you are growing up, every adult out there tells you a million times that you shouldn't give any personal information about yourself out over the internet. Most of all, if you do, don't show them a picture. To do so will result in another Molly Bish... If you don't know what I'm talking about, look it up. It's a sad story.

Anyway, so when a dear friend of mine and I were talking about how I looked, I asked him. Would you love me if I was 300 pounds, had a unibrow and a lazy eye? He said yes. I asked him a little later, would you love me if I was 600 pounds, had warts covering my face, and had a cleft pallate that was never repaired? He said yes. He wanted to know why I was asking these questions as he knew them to be untruthes. I said, "Because I want to know how bad I can be and you still love me." He said it very easilly and very pointedly, "Six years ago bad." I shut up.

So, to make a point I thought, and to give him his just deserts, I uploaded the pictures and sent them off. Much to my surprise and confusion, he seemed to really like them. Of course, a small conversation insued... Apparently, he didn't understand the term 'DD' when concerning breast size... Now he has a very clear definition by way of photo.

Anyway, overall it was quite pleasant. Apparently, he still kinda wants to be my friend, and now the pressure is off. There are no secrets between us. None. And that makes me happy, and lifts a huge weight off of my shoulders... Even if nothing pans out, I at least know now that if it does, it's only because we were completely honest with one another, and that makes me very happy indeed.

Debbie Does Dallas

Tue, 19 Jul 2005 05:06:51 GMT

A late night conversation that involved a cranky lioness that did NOT want to listen to the panther on the other end of line saying that she needed to go to sleep yielded a very whiney cat that had a 5am shift. I took a brief nap at lunch, which helped me through the rest of the day, but I didn't get anywhere near what I wanted to get done finished. Of course, a fire early in the morning, put a bit of a wrench in the works. Apparently, Air Conditioner number 8 caught on fire. I thought they were supposed to cool things? The fire department came with 4 full sized engines, a ladder, two ambulances and a bunch of police cars and volunteer firefighters in their personal vehicles. All over an air conditioner. Apparently, dog hair wafting about in the air had been sucked up into the air conditioner and had caught on fire. All of them had to then be cleaned. Just another one of those maintenance things we're supposed to be doing, but aren't.

When all was said and done with the day, I had pulled a muscle in the middle of my back and tore one in my shoulder. I was not a happy kitty. So, I came home and decided that perhaps a nap was in order... of course, that wasn't until -after- my panfah helped me with some...car trouble.

After my nap, John proceeded to yell at me. I should have been cleaning instead of sleeping. I suppose he's right. Anyway, so I took him to the bar and dropped him off before going and letting the dogs out. I fed them, and then headed back to pick him up. He had already caught a ride home. So, I met him at home, got prettied up, and went to go meet my friends for a fun night at Amazing.

After much fun in the store, we selected like 4 videos and a few magazines. It was a lot of fun, and Britta and I were proud to be ushering Tim into the world of adulthood...and adult videos. Afterwards, we retired to Britta's to watch a late night screening of Debbie Does Dallas, a classic filmed in the 70's, so it was just chock full of hairy bushes and even hairier balls. Flat chests, no muscle definition, and seniors in high school with mustaches and that were balding... And let's not forget the voice overs, the sound substitutions of a woman likely eating lay's potato chips for a girl giving a man a blow job.

And, no condoms. And the story involed 16 year old girls prostituting themselves to raise money to go watch their friend Debbie try out for the Dallas Cheerleaders. Oh, and let's not forget about Debbie's attempt at doe-eyed innocence that results in wide eyed crack whore... Bambi, baby, I love you, but just knock it off with the eyes.

Unfortunately, we were unable to watch it to completion as our gay little friend was gagging every time he saw a set of tits. Tim, face it. You had your face in them when you were born. Suck it up, literally.

Anyway, and all I wanted to top the night off with was a little fun on FF with my panther and...he went to sleep on me. :( I miss talking to him already. I love him very much. And he loves his 300 pound, unibrow, lazy-eyed lioness. *cackle* Okay. So I'm not 300 pounds by any means. I have beautiful eyebrows, and my eyes work just fine, but still. He said he'd love me even if I was. Mwahahaha.

A quick short post.

Mon, 18 Jul 2005 18:57:47 GMT

Past few days, I've been dogsitting for my friend. Pretty standard. Only thing of real notability would be that I've been chatting on the phone a lot lately with a friend of mine. It is making me very happy. That, and the fact that in order for my promotion to go through they have to do a background check... And this isn't one that just checks criminal records. It's a character check. They check credit history, previous work history (call bosses to see what kind of person I am) all sorts of stuff. I'm so going to fail, which means I'm not going to get the promotion. I'm totally bummed.

Fun Day on Cape Cod, Even more Fun in my dreams.

Fri, 15 Jul 2005 14:08:12 GMT

I went to the cape yesterday to help groom out a friend's dog and mow a friend's lawn. It was good. Relaxing. I had a fun dinner and then came back to Worcester where I proceeded to have a very sweaty fun fun night on the phone with my panfah. All in all, very theraputic as I slept solid through the night with fun dreams. :) Thanks for the 'therapy' session, Feren!

At what point is a kiss just a kiss?

Thu, 14 Jul 2005 00:48:09 GMT

Okay, so the title really doesn't have anything directly to do with the topic of choice, but whatever.

So granted, my promotion wasn't a huge one. But it was a promotion none the less. Now, I have my foot in the door for real management. But like I said, I've busted my ass for two years to get this promotion, and finally I get it. It's a big thing for me. It's a big deal. So when someone says that they'd rather go fishing instead of taking you out for dinner, especially when they profess to be something of a significant other, then...it hurts. And then when they say that the will that weekend instead, well... okay. But then when they change their mind and say: It's not that big of a promotion. It's not that big of a deal. I don't think I should have to take you out to dinner over it. Why don't we just swing by so and so's for a couple of beers and a burger on the grill?

In otherwords: You aren't worth my effort or time.
In otherwords: I only said this weekend to shut you up.
In otherwords: Unless you work construction, and work my job, it's not worth it.
In otherwords: You'll never be as good as me.
In otherwords: Forget about it.

In otherwords: I'm crying, and upset, and all of my friends are busy doing other things because I told them to go ahead and make plans since he was supposed to be taking me out and well... what's the point.

Every day with Petsmart is like the First Day...

Wed, 13 Jul 2005 04:07:42 GMT

Hell. It's only been one day and already the associates are treating me differently, but I really don't mesh with Management either. Turns out we're getting a Manager for the position I wanted. She's coming from another store. Whatever. I don't care. it's just frustrating...

They aren't giving me any guidance. They're just throwing things at me. Did they really expect me to learn the job in a day? What's worse, it's not my job they want me to learn. It's the position above me. Once again, twice the work, half the pay.

Sure, I get a raise. But if I'm doing management duties, shouldn't I be getting management pay?

Damn you, Corporate. DAMN YOU!

As usual, something so right gets turned into something so very wrong...

Tue, 12 Jul 2005 02:08:05 GMT

So. Saturday night, my boss says to me: Monday 8AM we're going to have a serious conversation in which you're going to tell me why I should promote you. I naturally responded with: What? He said: Sell yourself. I said: I thought I've been doing that for the past two years. He said: We're not going to talk about it right now. Monday at 8. Your future is in your hands. Whether or not you succeed is up to you. I said: So, in other words, if I fail, it's my fault. He just nodded.

So... That left me with trying to think up of a way to make my presentation. To make my case. To show him what he should already know. A dear friend of mine piped up and suggested we Quilt the reasons. I loved the idea. So, Sunday night after work, we quilted. We quilted until 1 in the morning. And when we were done, it was a fabulous nine square, square in a square quilt that had all the reasons, well, not all of them, but the most important reasons as to why Steve should promote me. I was confident. I was excited. I... couldn't go to sleep.

I had to be up at 4 in the morning. It was a 5 am shift on Monday. So, by the time I fell asleep at around 2, I had a total of 2 hours to sleep, and under my belt for one of the most important days of my career: The day I enter the 'gauntlet' of management in training.

I worked all morning, twiddling away on my projects that had been outlined for me. Then, 8 o'clock rolls around and... no Steve... 8:10, 8:15, 8:20, finally, at 8:25, he pulls into the parking lot of the store. I couldn't believe it... he was 25 minutes late for our meeting. Then, as he walks into the door, he just smiles in his oh-so-smug-I'm-in-control way and says Good morning to me. I couldn't believe it. I was crushed. He didn't even have enough respect to -call- me to let me know he'd be running late. At that point, I had already gotten sick to my stomach and vomitted.

So, I follow him to the office and he says, "I don't want to be bothered to for at least 10 minutes." I just sort of blinked, walked out of the office and vomitted again.

Then, after 15 minutes go by, I go back to his office and he says, "I need to speak with my managers. I'll call you whenever I'm ready."

That was the third time I vomitted. At this point, it was nothing but bile and whatever saliva I had swallowed to counter the wrenching nausea that had come to pass from the previous two times.

So, I went on lunch. On my lunch break, I called the E. A. P. It's a psychological support system that Petsmart has in place for situations just like this. I needed someone to cry to. I was tired. I was cranky. I was dejected. I was miserable. Of course, they did a fantastic job of building me up. Making me feel better about who I was and I deserved the job. So I went into the store afterwards with a: You don't appreciate me? Then Fuck You too.

Then, the P.A. System broke out: Elizabeth Stephens to the office please. Elizabeth Stephens to the office...

My gut wrenched all over again. I grabbed the quilt and walked cooly into the office. He shut the door behind me. And for the first time in a long while, I found myself relating with Daniel and the lions...

"So... Tell me why I should promote you."

My mouth was dry. I wanted to scream at him. Tell him to take this job and shove it as the song goes. I wanted to tell him that he's an asshole for treating me the way he was... but I just smiled my sweetest southern smile and unfurled the quilt. He was impressed. He really liked it. He liked it so much that he asked us to make another one for the company's flagship program 'Brand Promises'. I thought I had a good chance.

Then he proceeded to apologize, telling me that he -should- have promoted me 6 months ago. But that while I was a promotable candidate then, I'm even more a promotable candidate now, and just think of how much better a candidate I would be in 6 more months. My heart felt crushed, but I smiled and nodded, listening quietly. He likes to talk. At this point, I was envisioning shit spewing from his mouth...literally.

Then he said, "I don't promote anyone to lead that I'm not planning on grooming for Management. The best players in the world do -not- make the best coaches. You have to have both." So I'm thinking, Oh. Okay. Well, I've got the promotion.

And then he'd say something like, "I've never endorsed a candidate for promotion before." Even though he's been with the company for 13 years, so now I'm thinking I don't have it.

"But I endorsed you." So now I think I do have it.

Then, all of a sudden, two hours into this push and shove of emotions, he says: "Well, you'll have an answer by the end of today." And that was it... I was cut loose. I asked, "My day or your day?" He turned in his chair and blinked at me. "When does -your- day end?" he asked. I said, "Noon." He shook his head, "You'll have your answer by tomorrow."

TOMORROW??? Was he TRYING to kill me? I just smiled and nodded, walking out. My day had officially gone to shit.

So, I'm twiddling away at my duties. A few of my co-workers came running up.

"How'd it go?"
"Did you get the promotion?"
"Why are you so glum?"

"Crappy, I don't think so, why do you think?" My answers came all at once in response to the deluge of questions. They all seemed very concerned, though I know one of them was more veiled than real. I just turned my back to them and went back to work, quiet. I was already cried out. There was no point in getting upset. I was sure I had done my best and well, my best just wasn't good enough for PetsMart.

Then, Steve comes out. He's walking around, watching me work. I figured he was waiting for me to snap. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He said something like: Can't you do that a little faster?" I snapped my head around to look at him, my eyes wild and fierce. Oh how I wanted to lash out. How I wanted to tear him a new one. But I didn't. I smoothed my hackles and relaxed. With a smile, "Excuse me?" He just smiled back, that simpering smug smirk like he's kissing the ass of an asshole bigger than he, as if that's possible, "Oh, nothing." Then he'd hover a little more. Finally, he started to bother me about taking my breaks. I had just about had enough when I had explained, "Britta is on her lunch. I've already taken my lunch. We both have our fifteens out of the way. That just leaves my last fifteen, and then I have to cover hers as there's no one on until after we both leave." He gave me some crap about it, very adament about me taking my break.

It was pissing me off. I've been very good lately about taking all of my legally required breaks in a timely fashion. I've been even better about making sure everyone else gets there. Why was he suddenly so intent on shoving his nose up my ass?

I went back to work, he went back to whatever the hell it is he does... Britta comes running down the corridor towards me. She gives me a huge hug and says, "Congratulations!" I, naturally, responded, "For what?" She looked at me like I was daft, "For your promotion, goon." I just blinked a little and said, "I haven't heard one way or the other yet." Ruth piped up, "Yeah. She said she -wasn't- getting promoted." Britta piped up, "No. It's posted in the breakroom. Come on!"

She grabbed my hand and we went running down the corridor to the associate break room. Sure enough, posted on the vending machine, there was a notice saying to congratulate me for my new promotion... to lead.

Lead. All of that stress for lead? That's only a 10% raise...worse of all, that's a 50$ increase in stress. I wanted Presentation Manager. I wanted Manager at the end of my title. No. I got Lead Specialist. Why not just shoot me in the fucking head.

I just smiled. I accepted the multitude of congratulations from those who meant it and those who just said it. I was humble. I kept my gaze averted and just smiled, my head hung a little in bashful acceptance. I shook Steve's hand. I didn't say anything. I just shook his hand and nodded. And then... as the clock struck noon, I calmly walked out of the store...

In my car, it was a different matter. After texting a couple of people and calling my grandmother, I drove along Massasoit road on my way home. Finally, I pulled off. I sat there in the little 'turnaround' that the police love to sit in, waiting to bust you on the only straight stretch where it goes from 30 to 40 then to 25 all of a sudden. And I just screamed. I kept screaming until I couldn't any more. I cried a little, what was left. I was light headed. I was dehydrated. I was tired. I was cranky... so I went home.

Of course, the day wasn't over at that point. Oh no. I went back over to my friend Britta's house when she got home. She was depressed. I fixed her computer while she napped, and then I woke her up. She needed to talk. I listend to her cry and talk about why she was feeling down. I gave her some encouragement. I held her hand and helped her through her benefits choices and explained some courses of action we were going to take as far as getting her FAFSA filled out for college.

Then, after quite afew hours over there, I came home, fully prepared to go out for a nice lobster dinner to celebrate with John... only, when I got home, John was having a few beers with a friend of ours, and had all of his fishing gear packed. I smiled and proudly announced my promotion. They both congratulated me and...that was it. John finished his beer. Bill went home. John announced he was going to bed. When I asked, "Aren't we going out to celebrate?" He said, "No. I have to get up at 3 to go fishing." I was devastated. The night couldn't get any worse.

So, now I'm logged on. I'm listening to Avril Lavigne. I'm talking with a friend on MUSH. I'm just... really enjoying my life right now, yep. Fun.

Life is cruel...

Thu, 07 Jul 2005 23:22:57 GMT

Driving home today, I noticed on the side of the road a woman up ahead. She was haunched over her retaining wall, and from what I could gauge, she had to be older than 50. As I got closer, I could see that she was straining with a railroad tye, you know, those big long posts that they use to put the tracks on? I also noticed that her car was still running and had the emergency flashers on. Thinking something was wrong, I pulled over and got out of the truck.

Walking up to her, I looked at the side of the car. Along the door was a brown mark, but no real damage that I could see. It was quite apparent that she caught the edge of the wall pulling out of her driveway. The tye was swung outward, and as much as she was trying, there was no chance for her alone to push it back into place.

I introduced myself, we exchanged pleasantries, and I proceeded to put my shoulder into the tye and repair the wall. She thanked me and said something to the affect that her husband used to do all of the driving. I asked, "Used to?" She smiled, a faint and saddened one, "Yes. He passed away last week."

As long as I've been widowed, and despite Jay's and my rocky marriage, it still struck so deep. I actually felt pain. I felt so bad for this woman. She had been with her husband for YEARS. Her -life- was -with- that person. Everything about her included him. And then, one day, half of her existance has disappeared. I went in, we sat, had a cup of tea and talked. She told me about how she's selling his bass boat because she can't go in the back yard with it there. She sold is truck so she would be able to leave. She still can't eat Pepper and Egg sandwiches, much less say it without hesitation. But the part that made me the most sad was the fact that he was retired. For two years. He would do the cooking, and the cleaning. She worked all day and would come home to him, eat, visit and do her crafts. Now, she has to do it all...alone... in the quiet.

I told her to turn the radio on when she leaves the house. It helps. It helps to have noise. It breaks up the silence. I told her to sleep on the couch. It helps. It helps to have something you can snuggle your back to, like it's holding you. I told her to go to bereavement. It helps. They teach you how to manage your finances and get your affairs in order should something happen to -you-. And then I told her something that I hope helps her the most through these trying times. I told her that it DOES get easier...but it never gets better. It helps. It helps to know that you don't have to try and wonder why it's not getting any better for you. Why it still hurts. You just can take solace in the fact that it gets easier.

We exchanged numbers, and I told her she can call me if she needs help with anything around the house or just a friendly face to talk to. And I bid her farewell and returned home. She seemed so sweet, so sad. It breaks my heart just thinking about it.

All I hear, through the crickets and the wind, is your heart breakin' again.

Thu, 07 Jul 2005 21:44:48 GMT

Rust Kings. That's right. The Rust Kings. An amazing band that originated out of Smoot, West Virginia, a total of like 40 minutes from my home. I've fallen in love with them. If they were touring, I'd be a groupie. They have a fantastic mix and feel of Neil Young meets Dave Matthews Band. For the past two nights straight, I've been listening to LoFi Heartache. Ten bucks. Order it. It's worth every penny. Their previous album was just as good, but with a decidedly different sound. And, last night, I got word from Allan (lead singer) that they're working on another one! WOOHOO! Life may have it's downs, but it sure has its ups too!

On a different note, some how, through my travels today from Sportsmans club to sportsmans club, I ended up shelling out over 100 bucks in membership fees, got nominated for the Executive committee at one, and apparently, though I can't remember how or if I even did it, volunteered to be the person in charge of the newsletter. Of course, oddly enough, with that came the responsibility of lining up the youth programs through MassWildlife, and organizing this years pancake breakfast to be held in conjunction with the Shrewsbury Festival... How many beers did I have???

Anyway, after arguing with a gentleman over why you DON'T let deer hang for days on end to 'bleed', as in blood acidosis, coagulation and muscle degeneration which leads to gaminess and crap meat, though the guy didn't process -any- of what I said, retard... I decided it was time to go, but apparently ended up scheduling a viewing of our instructional videos on how to skin and quarter a deer in 30 minutes. How many beers did I have again???

I'm Dancing with the Devil in the Pale Moonlight.

Wed, 06 Jul 2005 03:13:53 GMT

Ah, Batman... If only all men came with pointy ears and a rubber suit. *wink* That having been said, what is the perfect man? I mean, sure. First responses of most girls: Batman. Whether it be the quirky humor of Michael Keaton, the quietspoken strength of Val Kilmer, the rugged good looks of George Clooney or most recently, the heartbreaking Christian Bale, it will always be... Batman.

What is it about this fictional character that has women all over the country creaming themselves? Well, I think a lot of it is rooted deep within their psychological make-ups.

Let's analyze this for a moment: What makes Batman the quintessential man?

Early in a relationship, there is something of an enigma. Curiosity. Mystery. The newest conquest is always something of an unknown. Most men come across as rugged, tough, strong silent types. Those that don't, well... they're not nearly as intriguing. Naturally, as you get to know the man you're seeing, you begin to see weaknesses. At that point, the attraction to the mystery fades as it no longer is a mystery, and you can only hope that your interest in the real person behind the shield is strong enough to endure...

And that is a large part of why I think Batman is probably every woman's dream man. Because no matter how much you get to know him, he still wears a mask... and he wears rubber, which in and of itself is sexy as hell.

But is Batman -my- be-all, end-all to all male kind? No. Why? I don't know. Sure the mask is hawt. Sure the suit is seeehxy. Sure the cape is, well, *whistle* But no... You can dress any man up in a plastic suit. It's what's underneath that attracts me. The dark and brooding parentless child grown up into a heartless business tycoon, yeah... Can totally do without. Give me the well-loved child, educated, open to suggestion with a big heart any day of the week. Sure, they're the type to cry when they're frustrated or upset. But they're also the type to risk their lives to save you. There is passion, without anger.

While discussing the glories of Batman over AIM with a guy I know, I was privied to perhaps sensitive materials that no woman should ever know... Turns out Men like Batman too! *gasp* *silence* *tinktinktink of a pin dropping* Apparently, it's all due to the superfical things though. They like the money, the riches, the power, the car and of course, the gadgets. Men love gadgets...

Perfect guy... Well, take a little of Robert Redford's Horse Whisperer... add a touch of Kevin Costner's humor, a splash of Jack Nicholson's class, and top it off with a trip through an Invader Zim episode and Batman's rubber suit. *sweats* That's my perfect man. Of course...the ears. They have to be pointy. Chicks dig pointy things.

"I love standing in the rain, because no one can see how hard I'm crying."

Tue, 05 Jul 2005 01:43:19 GMT

I suppose that I am a glutton for punishment. The day started out fairly uneventful. I even indulged John in a few of his activities throughout the day, including going to his family's for an Independence Day party. That in and of itself was hell on Earth. I am certain that they are trying to poison me. The men want me, and the women hate me. I find hyself between a rock and a hard place, no pun intended.

But anyway...

Have you ever had your heart broken? Broken before it even had a chance to swell, to swell with that wonderful feeling of total and complete rapture? It's like picking the most perfectly round, smooth tomato off of the vine before it has a chance to change from that drab green to beautiful vibrant crimson. No? Well, consider yourself lucky. I don't think there's anything in life that is more painful than a love unrequited, desire unfulfilled. Let me see if I can describe it... Okay. Sit down. Put your feet up. Lean your head back against the chair and close your eyes. Now, envision your heart, beating in your chest. Feel the warmth that it is sending throughout your body. Now, envision a black snake, slowly coiling itself around your heart, loose at first, and then constricting more and more. It grows tighter. The muscle bulges around the wrapped reptile. The warmth quickly cools to ice. Your breath stops, and the pain shoots through your mind, the only reminder that you're still alive, but barely. That's what it feels like. It kills you inside. It kills you because you still have to live through it.

Wait. Be patient. I don't want to wait. I don't want to be patient. The hedonistic nature that is me, the golem that cries Precious, I am hideous. I am loathsome. They are completely reasonable requests, but I creel and cringe like a vampire in the light. Perhaps my judgement is clouded with pain. Perhaps it is more clear than ever. I do not know.

Wait. Give it time. I will. I will only because I have said I would. I do not want to. I will not like it. But I will. I gave my word. My word. HAH! How foolish for someone to think that my word means anything. Some think I have changed. I thought I have changed. But why should I try so hard to change when everyone just expects me to be who I've always been? I am bitter. I am sour. I am cynical. Yes. Cynical.

I smile, I coddle, I sympathize. I put on that good face, that good front, that 'I'm okay, so don't worry' facade. Deep down, I'm seething. I'm hurt. I'm angry. I just want to go off and lick my wounds. I want to hind behind a shield of verdant foliage, glaring out at the world from where I lie hidden beneath the shrubbery.

You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet, I say. Break the eggs. Stomp the eggs. Screw the omelet. I can take it. I meet the pain with open arms. I put myself out there, and it's no wonder that I got hurt. Note to self: Be more guarded. It will pay off better in the future with fewer casualties and injuries.

I'm just miserable. I'm hurting. My pride is dashed. My feelings are destroyed. It will take a great deal of time to recover from this. It will take a great deal of strength. And, since I'm alone, I may never have the strength needed to do it all on my own.

Sorry...

Sun, 03 Jul 2005 20:45:25 GMT

I've had a lot of time to think today. As far as the day goes, my thinking began at midnight. Let me set the scene...

After a long evening of working at PetsMart. Yes. That's where I work. The evil chain of pet supplies stores that sells evil furry hamsters and psycho feathered fiends... all psychologically programmed to react upon a trigger that the government will send out over the television waves and thus start the mobilization of the world's most feared and deadly army, able to reproduce every 30 days by thousands...no, in mere months it would be by the millions! But, I digress...

So, after a long evening of working at Petsmart...I proceeded to go home and get ready to go fishing. A shower, a few necessary foodstuffs, the fishing poles and of course, my cohort, and off we were into the night.

As we drove up into the driveway of the gentleman that would be taking us fishing that summer's eve, my eyelids were already threatening to give out on me. A BooKoo triple energy drink and two vivarin (yes, I know it's way more than the recommended dosage, but trust me. Vivarin and I have a good relationship) and they were ready to go.

The man we were going with was having some back issues. I gave him a few of my... happy little friends that I keep with me for such occassions as severe back pain. Let's face it. Get thrown off a few bovines and have a tree or two fall on ya and you'd be popping them like candy too. Regardless, they didn't help him. His back was telling him then: Don't go. Please don't go. We don't want to go. But no, he's an addict. Addicted to the love of fishing. Addicted to the sport. And Addicted to getting out of the house and back to nature any chance he gets.

So, off we went. We drove up to the boatramp of a local lake. I enjoy fishing it in the daylight, so night time was going to be interesting. Normally, no one fishes at night. Unfortunately, two people had their boats already in the water and a third was joining us. It was disheartening to say the least to my two partners. They were so looking forward to showing me a good time, as I had yet had the opportunity to go night fishing this year. I reassured them that it was fine.

Quietly, our boat slipped into the water. The gentle rumble of the motor thrumming under the glassy surface of the water was relaxing. We proceeded to make our way out onto Lake Singletary. The sky was clear. No clouds. That could be good. We did not need our lights to see where we were going. There was no wind. The stars reflected on the water and it created such a surreal experience, as though we were floating through the universe. Even the milky way shot across the bow of the boat.

As we made our way to our leader's favorite spot, the running lights of the other boats showed up brightly in the dark night. Groans of disappointment came from the throats of my two partners. I just shrugged and smiled, "It's okay. It's a beautiful night. There's plenty of room for all of us on the flat." They agreed and we proceeded to fish it from just off. After a while, they moved away and we were able to have the flat to ourselves.

Of course, not that it mattered. Despite our best efforts, using a variety of baits and artificial lures, the fish decided that tonight, they just weren't hungry. At about two in the morning, the moon began to rise where we could see the pale shadow of earth sliding over it just enough to where the silver sliver of a crescent could shine a blistering white.

Sure, there were a few hits. Sure there were a few catches. But over all, it was uneventful. I didn't mind. I had a lot to think about. A lot was on my mind. Ultimately, when it came down to it, I had come to some very hard decisions, and some very unhappy conclusions.

All of my nervousness, was for nought. Ultimately, when it came down to everything that has been on my mind for the past few weeks, I have no control over anything. Ultimately, the past rules my future no matter how much I'd like to leave it behind. And Ultimately, I must pay for past transgressions, regardless of how much I've changed, or how hard I've tried.

Someone said Zero to 100 mph in two seconds. Yes. Perhaps. That is how I work. But, that is not how I want to work. I will try to be patient. I will try to wait. But when time moves slow and I move slow...my mind doesn't. And so much goes through my head, I get frustrated and irritated and...everything.

It's like the stray cat that everyone has meandering about their house. Someone, ultimately, threw that cat out. Cast it aside. Perhaps it was a friendly cat at one point, but has been chased off enough times with a broom that it doesn't trust people anymore. And then you have that animal lover. The one that wants to befriend the cat and give it a good home. Perhaps it's even the one that kicked it out in the first place and has had a change of heart... But the cat doesn't trust you. Continued efforts to befriend the cat only push it farther away. So, instead, you wait. You wait for the cat to come to you. You hope it will. You hope it will change its mind. I hope it will, anyway. I hope it will give people, and in particular, me, another chance. I really want another chance.

Anyway, Friend's back went out. Night drew to a close. And I had to be at work shortly thereafter. Unique, and abrupt, the night was mine, even if only for a little while.

I Am Alone in My Journey...

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 03:02:53 GMT

I walk alone. My ears ring with silence, thunderous and tangible. It is thick. I can feel the solitude breathing in syncronous with my own lungs filling and expressing. Bahdum...bahdum...bahdumb... The vein in my neck pops with each heartbeat. The drums in my head pound. Acutely aware of my being, my existance, the world looks at me through hollow eyes. Squeezing. Pushing. Invisible hands of expectation grip my shoulders and shove me to the ground. I scream. I strike out at the pressures. My shriek cuts through the silence like a razor through cooled flesh. And then, to join the world, light leaves me. Darkness reigns....

There are days when I just want to be alone. Then there are days where I cannot help but realize I am alone. The bodies that work alongside me, the ones that share my life, they are not people. They are shells, self serving and beligerant. Oblivious to the hollow vessels that are around them. Oblivious to the pit that is me. I am empty. Without hope. Day in, day out. I continue to live my life of mediocrity. I look out on the world with a cynical gaze.

Life. It is my Bete Noir. A bane. A thorn in the lion's paw. I cannot exist without it, and yet, to live it, I do not wish to exist. A paradox. Two worlds similar. A contradiction. Two worlds nothing alike. I am conflict in action. I am the epitome of confusion. Indecision. Irritation. Inside, I scream. Inside, I cry. Inside, I am me. The me that no one sees.

I cannot show them me. I must show them her. Her. The alterego. The self that is accepted. The self that everyone wants to see. Smiling. Interactive. Witty and at times, charming. Petulant, whining, and at times, overwhelming. A charismatic soul, opinionated and at times irritating. The self that invokes feeling and reaction. The self that creates introspection and perspective. That is not me...that is -her-.

My heart wrenches every day. With every cycle, it gets harder to breathe, and harder to live. I am forced to exist with others. I wish to lash out. Strike them all. Scream at them. Tell them how petty and sophmoric their pathetic little lives are...

I wish to go to my solice. The ocean. Large and expansive. The true blue yonder. With the tide, the ebbing and flowing, waves of tourmaline cresting with frothy white clouds... I close my eyes. I can feel the salt spray on my face, and the water wrapping itself around me, pulling me down. Pulling me into oblivion. My oblivion. My ocean. My home.

I am a ship without a harbor. I am dry docked inland. Chains of kinesia are wrapped to my cleats. How I wish to return to her, that wonderful and unforgiving nihility. I wish to fade... If only to etiolate...

Love, my true loves in life are few... The ocean, my panther, and my passion.
I am broken.

The past is a path best not journeyed.

Thu, 30 Jun 2005 23:05:07 GMT

Art. Art is something I used to enjoy immensely. And, when I was younger, I used to be quite good at it. Now, on occassion, I'll doodle a little something. Often, it is whatever is going through my mind. I've never been good at cartoons or anthromorphic renditions. No, my skill however limited was always isolated to more realistic forms.

Some would say I'm creative, but I wouldn't think so. I think that, in large part, is why I have such trouble drawing anything in an existance other than reality. True to form. Oddly enough, my favorite subject to draw has always been cats. I love them, really. To me, they are the quintessential creature. They are the hunter. The prowler. Every movement, like liquid grace. They are athletic, smart, and clever. They are sensual and fierce. They are passionate. In all fairness and reality, they are as close to perfect as you can possibly get.

Reality... That's a funny word, isn't it? What is real? I used to always say that I did not exist. That reality dictated that I think therefore I am, but what would happen if I did not think that I was? Perhaps just the rants of a silly child, but it does have me thinking...

What if you could go back and change the past? So many things could change. It's funny that when you think about something that at the time was such a minor event, and how you would have changed it... How suddenly, that minor event could have turned into the biggest life changing event of your life! Like... telling the truth once instead of all of the lies that took place.

Forgiveness is a funny thing. You'd think that once you have attained it, the guilt of whatever transgressions you may have orchastrated would magically disappear. Unfortunately, depending on what that transgression is, sometimes, the guilt gets worse. Like betraying someone...and then having them forgive you for betraying them and trust you again...

I don't think I can ever make it up to them. I don't think I can ever measure up to whatever it is they think I am, or think I will become.

Behavioral Science...

Tue, 28 Jun 2005 22:48:51 GMT

What makes people who they are? Many say it is not the history, it is not the trappings of success, no. It's their actions by far.

If it is their actions, then I am... what am I?

--------------------------------------------------------

Silence. I parse my brain, looking for whatever thought was there but then ran off to hide. A giggle, a flicker of motion, I spin around. It was there, I swear it was! I saw it! Or did I?

Have you ever found yourself in a habitual situation? You know, the type where you used to do it, then you stopped, and then when the occassion arose, you picked up where you left off without a second's thought?

No?

Well I have. Emotions are such fickle things. I love, I want, I can't though. Why? Because of history. I love, I want, I do. Why? Because of history. I can't. I shouldn't. I want to so bad. The feelings, the emotions, we click on so many levels. We are passionate. It just feels -right-. So right. More right than anything, or anyone. But I can't. It's not 'right'. I have hurt this person, burned this person, torn their very soul from them without permission and then thrust it back when I was finished with it. I am scum. They are pristine.

Trust your gut, they say. What is my gut saying? Nothing! It does not speak. It merely wrenches. Why? Guilt. Guilt of a relationship gone wrong. Guilt of the pain I've caused. Butterflies. Butterflies of feelings rekindled, or perhaps ones that never really went out.

I am light headed. I close my eyes and my head lolls. The room breathes. No. I breathe. We're both breathing. Overwhelming. Like a rocket. Take it slow my mind says. Let him get to know the -real- you. I want to, but I already know the real him. What if he doesn't like the real you? The risks. Worth the effort? Worth the chance?

My heart swells. It feels tight in my chest. It presses against the walls of my ribs. It beats hard and heavy. I wish to tear it free. I wish to give it away. I cannot keep it like this. It's too hard. It hurts too much.

I am confused. I am alone.

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Tue, 28 Jun 2005 01:59:05 GMT

How fitting that such a song would be performed by a band named Poison... I was listening to it on the way home from a long day at work. My day started at work at 5AM this morning, and the day finally ended around 8:30 in the evening, with a few breaks here and there.

As I sit here, pondering tonight's entry, I find myself musing over many things. Most of them are based on feelings, long forgotten, now drudged up from a murky past to be washed off, cleansed, and put out again.

Appearances, perceptions, so much tie into personal comfort zones. What will they think of me, and do I really want to find out. What do -I- think of me, and can I really afford to care what others think when I myself do not yet have a definition? Do I have the time, the energy, do I even want to change perceptions that are not all together similar to my own of myself? Questions, questions, questions, they rattle in my head like beans inside an indian turtle drum...

Introspection... Shy... Shy? How can I be shy? I'm outgoing. But I force myself to be. I force myself to interact. I would rather be alone. Solitude. But I do not want to be lonely. I am in just that a conflict. Two feelings at war. Many left yet to be evaluated. Scared... Fear... Abandoment... They bang at my eyes from within, constant reminders of everything that haunts me. I am afraid. I am so afraid. Of what? Of everything? Nothing? Why am I afraid? Why am I scared? Who will abandon me? Will I give them that chance? No!

Bricks of omission held together by mortar of vagueness, this wall I build will protect me from feelings that can hurt an already tender heart. They will protect the world from what is going through my head. I want to scream.

The sound rips through my lungs, and thrusts open the door to my windpipe. But that wall, that brick wall, made of 28 alabaster defenses, holds it back, masquerading with just a smile. My body aches. Oh how I wish to let go... how I wish to love.

Interminable silence...

Sat, 25 Jun 2005 12:42:06 GMT

A whirlwind day, a troubled night, and all followed by a contemplative morning...

I'll start from the beginning. I may not list all of the details, but well, even enigma has its purposes in life.

The time was six years ago. The end of 1998, and the beginning of 1999. I was a junior in high school. I had an interesting growing-up. I had many opportunities that may not have been offered to other children. At my age, I was attending college at night, and trying to finish up my diploma during the day. In my mind, I thought I was very mature. It takes an imature person to think that.

Overall, my parents having lived out of state and leaving my brother and myself behind to live on the estate, resulted in what I believe a sense of abandonment. My brother turned into a cold and uncaring individual who has trouble finding relationships, and it turned me into somewhat of a relationship whore, trying so hard to find the love that I felt that I had been denied. In the process of which, I latched on to a wonderful man, ignorant of my true age, and ignorant of my true involvement with my family's business. Many of my lies were focused to impress him. Probably because I was too afraid to lose him should I turn out to be mundane.

My father found out, by way of my brother who had overheard a conversation between myself and he. He was furious. Needless to say, amidst threats of physical and legal harm, I chose to destroy that person so that they wouldn't ask questions. I chose to hurt them in a manner that would make them so angry, so upset, that they wouldn't look back. Better that than be confronted by my father.

A couple of years later, after I approached this individual, they shunned me. They could have said so many things, but most of all, it was that dis-interest that hurt the most. I understood it though, and accepted it.

Four years after that, I had forgotten much of what went on in my younger years. Call it selective amnesia, call it blocked memories, what have you. I saw a name that I thought familiar but couldn't figure out why. I spoke at length with a creative and funny individual. Then, when I least expected it, a word, just one, sparked a flood of memories that made my guilt materialize. Feren. That's all it took. All that I needed to realize who I was talking to. This person that I had been enjoying their company for near a week was the man that I had scarred so deeply. This person who I was considering to be a friend, had no idea that I was their worst enemy.

For the past two weeks, we chatted and enjoyed eachother's company. I'd log on in the mornings, log in at night. I even let him call my cell phone, after we had text messaged for a while... Hearing his voice was the straw that broke the camel's back. My stomach twisted when it heard that deep baritone panther rumble that is his voice. And something in my heart, ached. Regardless of the physical results, the mental were much more fierce. Guilt. Guilt for what I had done. And guilt for what I was knowingly doing right then.

And then, the moment of truth... He had suspicions, and I asked what they were. His suspicions were right, and I acknowledged that. Then I waited. I waited for all I deserved. The @toading. The lashing out. And... it didn't come? Not getting it is almost as torturous as getting it. I hurt this man. I love this man, but I hurt this man. Why wasn't he taking his vengence? I still love this man. I don't understand.

Regardless, I vow to make it up to him. He has given me the opportunity, and while I continue to apologize for everything, including apologizing too much if there is such a thing when concerning my behavior, to make up for all that I have done to him. And I will. I will find a way. It may take me a while, but I will find a way. He is such a special individual. He deserves to know that.

Good Luck at Bad Luck Pond

Fri, 24 Jun 2005 02:59:11 GMT

Everyone always says when their luck turns for the worst: If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have none. Even I've been known to say it when believed to be faced with such indominable situations such as this evening.

The day started off rather pleasantly. I was chatting along with a furry friend, then I get ready for work. On my breaks, I had the wonderful occassion to chat with him via phone, and then at night, he was the last I spoke with. All was good, until I got that dreaded phone call at work: Our puppy has a broken leg.

To most, this would seem trivial. But for a person who's whole purpose in life at times feels as though it's showing dogs, well... as you can surmise, it is a very big deal to them, and me.

I won't lie. I date. I date a lot. Some people I go out with, I've been going out with for years. Some people I live with are ones I date. But lately, I find, my mind is resting more on someone I've never even met. And now, a voice has been put with that image.

Silliness, I'm sure. Trivial? Perhaps. I don't know why. I'm confused. I like it, but I'm still not sure. This person is such a wonderful friend. Should I damage that?

And so it begins...

Thu, 23 Jun 2005 14:11:57 GMT

Warm... like fire, the tendrils tickle over my skin. They lick, sharp tongues slicing flesh and then they pull. It's skinning me alive. Body is exposed, while the stench of burning meat stings my nostrils... Pain.

Yes... It has begun... I have paid for a year of live journal.

Twenty-five dollars that could have paid for a tank of gas. Twenty-five dollars that would have purchased lunch for the week. Twenty-five dollars that should have stayed in the bank...alas... now spent on a blog of ether.

I am ashamed.