Final Notes

            I’ll go ahead and admit it, I almost forgot about tonight’s blog.  It’s been happening a lot since I switched to the every other week schedule.  Add late nights (or night as the case may be), a new job, and the holidays and you have a good mix to forget.  It’s also possible that I wasn’t quite ready to write this blog.  This is the final blog for ‘Ritas and Rants.  As we turn toward a new year, so too I’m turning toward new endeavors.  My experiment with thirty days of writing is going quite well, I’ve managed to write for twenty-one days now.  I’m excited about how important my writing has become.  With that in mind one might ask than why would you stop writing ‘Ritas?  Because my friends, it’s time. 

           

         I loved writing ‘Ritas and Rants.  It took me to a new level with my writing.  I stepped out and allowed myself to be vulnerable with my writing.  It was a difficult experience to say that least.  All of my readers have been so supportive, telling me on Facebook and in person how much they enjoy the blog and what they got out of that weeks blog.  I feel blessed to have so many people supporting me as I travel along my writing journey.  So, if some of my readers are sad at the ending of this blog, have no fear.  The old is always replaced with something new and who knows, it might even be better.  

            I guess the most important thing that I want to say tonight is thank you.  Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, it doesn’t matter whether you commented on it or not.  I certainly don’t know who you all are, but I am grateful that you took the time out of your day to come and share a moment with me.  For the previous 50 blogs that I have posted I have logged 928 viewers.  That number is astounding to me.  I appreciate every single view.  While I say this is my last post on ‘Ritas, I may use it as a resource to post information about whatever new thing I come up with as obviously not everyone reading is on my Facebook page.  I will keep you informed as things move forward, although there won’t be much to tell until after the start of the new year.

            Now my dear friends the time has come.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  From the deepest place in my heart I thank you for your time and your support.  I am eternally grateful. Happy Holidays to you all and have a wonderful New Year! 

Much Love

Sara

Two Bosses and a Newbie

Just a general announcement, my poetry class is over.  I got my soul back!

More Cornholing Quotes:  Some of these might be repeats, but you’ll get over it.

“It’s an indoor cornholing.”

“I don’t hear the Cornhole smackn’ anymore.”

“Can we use your Cornhole?”

“Oops, we almost grabbed someone else’s Cornhole.”

“Daddy, they’re playing with our Cornhole.”

“They decorated the whole place with nutcrackers.” 

Tasty Tidbit #1:  Experiment Time

            My friend Alton sent me a link a month or two ago to a blog that she thought I needed to read.  It was by Seth Godin and he was writing about Talker’s Block.  The point of the blog, as I saw it, was that there is no excuse for writer’s block.  People don’t wake up and forget how to talk (that might be a direct quote, I’ve read it so many times) we just talk and we do it every day.  Same thing with writing, we need to write every day, no excuses.  I saw a t-shirt the other day that said “Even if it’s crap, get it on the page.” I think that’s what Mr. Godin was trying to say.  Just get write, period.  Some of what you write, and hell maybe most of what you write, is going to be crap, but write it any way.  Based on this little blog post by Godin and the other books that I have read I decided to start an experiment.  It’s an experiment in building a good writing habit.  I decided that I would write something each day on my other blog for the next thirty days.  I didn’t have to write a dissertation, but I have to write something, preferably something that I have learned, something I’m grateful for, something I’m working through, or something I want to share with people in a teaching like capacity.  I crapped out after day two.  That was pretty disappointing, but as I explain in my other blog I got over it and decided to try again.  So I did.  I got back up, brushed myself off and started over.  I could allow myself to self-sabotage my writing efforts (because that would be awesome and productive) or I can admit that this is a difficult process for me.  Starting over is not a bad thing, I see it as the courage to try again, to not give up, because giving up sucks.  It’s way easier to give up than to keep trying, but it’s also a lot less satisfying.  There’s a chance that I will have to start this experiment over again, possible many times.  I hope that every time it happens I pick myself up and start again, it’s the only way that I will find the greatness that I know is hiding inside of me.   

Two Bosses and a Newbie

            I couldn’t help myself; I just had to make that the title of this blog, mainly because it’s true.  I have a job.  In fact for the first couple of days after finding out I had been hired I walked around my house randomly announcing to no one that I had a job.  I announced it to no one because I was too afraid to announce it to anyone else.  I was concerned that I would jinx it or worse that I wouldn’t be able to do the job and then I would be let go in humiliation.  Yeah, I’m a little nuts sometimes.  Last Wednesday was my first day on the job and I was scared.  I didn’t want to walk through that door and fail.  Getting hired felt like an achievement, but keeping the job would be my responsibility and I was terrified I wasn’t up to the task.

            That first day is pretty much a blur and I have a damn good memory.  I took six pages of notes and I went home with my head spinning, but I was also grinning like an idiot.  I knew right away that the toughest part would be learning all the new dental terms.  Oh, did I mention the job is at a dental lab?  Slightly funny and ironic that someone who is terrified of dentists is now working in a job where you have to talk to dentists, make deliveries to dentists, and a vast array of other dentist involved things.  The Universe has its little jokes doesn’t it?  Anyway, after that first day, blur that it was, I felt confident that I could learn everything I needed to learn.  I knew it would take a lot of work and I was good with it.  There’s actually something fascinating about it, which I’m pretty sure just adds to the already mountain of weirdness that is me.  My love of learning new things is also in high gear with everything I’m learning in the lab.  I have to put it on record that I have the most awesome trainer.  The woman that’s training me also has an awesome name, but of course I can’t reveal that to you.  J  She has everything mapped out, she doesn’t mind that I ask a lot of questions and take a ton of notes; she doesn’t even mind that I talk to myself, which I do, a lot.  She takes it step by step and it’s been great.  I really couldn’t have asked for anyone better. 

            Everyone in the lab seems pretty cool.  Of course, there’s that getting to know you time period.  There’s one woman whose name I’ve been trying to remember for the past three days (so much for my damn good memory), I finally remembered it today.  From what I’ve seen thus far, which admittedly only comes out to about 20 hours of work, everyone knows exactly what they are doing and they do it well.  I feel like a fart in a tornado and I’m falling into the bad habit of second guessing myself.  Today is a good example.  The woman who’s training me left early for the day, so I had my short two hour shift on my own.  My first thought was, please for the love of God don’t let the phone ring.  Of course it did, but I asked for help and Boss number two was very helpful with both of the calls I took.  Did I mention I had two bosses?  Oh yeah, title.

            That first day, I had to tell both bosses that I wasn’t able to go to Missouri as I had originally planned.  See to make the deliveries you use the company car which is a stick.  I could kick myself for not learning when my friend who drives a stick lived here, but it just never seemed like the right time.  Well, the time was now and now her bladder decided to fall out.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I tell my bosses I can learn stick, her bladder falls out.  Well, damn.  So I go to tell Boss number one that I can work on Friday, but that I won’t be able to learn stick until next weekend.  I’m telling my tale to him and everything works out of course, but as I am walking to tell boss number two I realize that the whole time I was talking I was wringing my hands.  I mean for real, wringing my heads.  Who does that?  That’s when I told myself I needed to chill out just a little bit.  Wringing my hands.  Really?

            The rest of that week went by in a blur and this week has been much of the same.  I’m learning a lot and I still have a lot to learn.  I’m looking forward to my first full day so I can get a good feel for how the day flows.  My friends have all asked me how the job is going and I immediately start to smile when I think about it.  I am so grateful to have this job.  I am so grateful for this opportunity.  I’m learning all kinds of cool stuff. I have to admit that as I was unpacking today I was thinking that what I was seeing might make good material for a horror story.  I’m still nervous every time I walk through the front door, but I still walk out every night with that stupid grin on my face.  Life just kicks ass sometimes. 

Sacred Negativity

I would like to say Thank You to all of my readers!  I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and I hope that we are all able to find ways to be thankful every day!

Please excuse the type font on the last paragraph of this blog.  It's being dumb for some reason.

Quotes:

I love the random quotes I find written in my notebooks.  Here are a few that I found while going through things.

“I’m not a waif any more.  I’m a waffle with a side of bacon.”

“Writing is not what you do, it’s who you are.”

“Create from love.”

One of my journal entries begins: “I’m considering doing another cleanse,” and ends with “this afternoon Chinese for lunch, yeah!”  

“I’ve got doughnut love in my belly.”

“I’m no longer a hot donut virgin.”

“I think my doughnut loves me.” 

Tasty Tidbit #1: Save the Cheese!

          It’s 11:30 a.m. on Wednesday the 23^rd of November and I walk into my house after running last minute errands for Thanksgiving.  I go into the kitchen to put away the groceries and when I reach into the fridge, it’s warm.  That’s right folks; my fridge took a crap the day before Thanksgiving.  I call my landlord, no answer.  I call the emergency line, no answer.  I try to take a deep breath as the realization comes to me that no one is going to answer, because everyone is getting ready for their Thanksgiving.  My mind grapples with what to do next.  We have a freezer in the basement, but it’s not plugged in and it probably needs cleaned.  When I check the freezer part of the fridge the tater tots have turned to squish and my frozen fish, not so frozen.  My guess is that the fridge actually went out sometime in the middle of the night.  I tell Ben that the fridge is broken and that we need to get the freezer cleaned out and break out the coolers to save what we can.  That’s when things got a bit ugly.  He was playing his computer game and he asked me if he could finish what he was working on.  He said that if the fridge was already warm a few extra minutes wouldn’t matter.  Stupid me, I said okay.

          Now, I need to clarify.  I said okay, because I didn’t know what else to say, my brain did a misfire.  I mean who says that?  Hey dear I know things are totally screwed up right now but do you mind if I finish working in my pixilated world first?  Hell yes I mind.  It took a couple minutes for my brain to catch up to what he said and my response.  By the time it did I was pissed off and I let him know it.  Of course that confused the hell out of him.  One second the wife is saying it’s okay the next she is in my face.  After a good round of fighting, he left to go get the ice and I went down stairs.  I was transferring some food that could be temporarily frozen to the freezer in the basement.  It was while I was cleaning it out that I had my revelation of what the hell did he just say and what the hell did I just say.  Funny how cleaning tends to clarify things.  Anyway, I had just taken a small load of cheese (we’re from Wisconsin we love our cheese) downstairs when a part of me just crashed.  Looking at it now it reminds me of a computer crashing.  I have a couch downstairs that used to be at the shop that I worked at.  I took one look at that couch and crashed.  I just flopped onto the couch.  I was done. 

          I stayed there until Ben got back with the ice.  In fact I stayed there until I was good and ready to get up.  That wasn’t very long but it felt good to just take myself out of the equation for a few moments.  After we had the coolers set up we had a little talk about his response and my response.  He explained that he was completely confused by the way I had responded, being okay one minute and pissed the next.  I explained that I understood why he was confused, but that I didn’t understand how he could ask the question in the first place.  A truce was called and we realized we had both responded poorly to the situation.  As of this writing we still don’t have a working fridge, nor have I heard from anyone on when I might be getting a new one.  At least we saved the cheese. 

*I thought I should note that despite the fridge breaking down we still had a good Thanksgiving.  The turkey was just fine as was everything else.  I guess it worked out that I waited until the last minute to buy everything for our Thanksgiving meal. 

Tasty Tidbit #2: Because if I don’t write it, it will drive me crazy

          I debated and debated and am still debating whether or not I want to write this tidbit.  The main reason for the debate is because it pertains to a situation with one of my readers and a second main reason (can you have two?)  is because I don’t want to appear unprofessional.  This tidbit, however refuses to be unwritten, in fact I finished the main body of the blog before turning back to this part.  In the end I suppose it comes back to my blog, period.  I just don’t like it when things tug on me and won’t let go, so I’ll just write the damn thing and have some relief.

          Last week I got a call from someone I know that has a job opening up next month.  I was thrilled.  No that’s not right, I was literally jumping up and down with excitement at the mere possibility.  I had come home from school that day fried.  I told Ben that I was done with school and that I was going to look for a job.  Less than five minutes after this declaration the phone rang.  Of course, I didn’t expect this person to hire me outright, in fact I wanted to go through the proper channels, resume, interview all that.  I wanted to be professional; it’s just a little weird when you know the person looking at possibly hiring you.  Anyway, I asked him if I could turn in my resume by the end of the week and he said that would be fine.  I wrote it out, was reasonably satisfied at the time and turned it over to him. 

          It was when I was driving home that the doubts started coming in and I made a couple discoveries.  One, I had difficulty putting the dates on my resume because between all the moves I’ve lost much of my paper work.  Although I was reasonably confident I had gotten close to or was on target for my dates of past employment I was concerned that something might be off.  What if he thought I was lying?  Should I call him and tell him?  I decided against that.  I wanted to maintain a level of professionalism and calling him up and going hey by the way was not professional in my eyes.  

          Next I realized that most of my work history was from Wisconsin.  That’s not a problem.  The problem is my last name.  I wasn’t married in Wisconsin so if they were calling to check on my work history no one was going to know Sara Pulvermacher, because that wasn’t my last name.  I could have kicked my own ass.  Again I debated the phone call and again I decided against it.  My last employers in Wisconsin knew I was getting married and I hoped that my two supervisors, both whom I had good relationships, would make the connection.

          Last but not least I forgot to put my education.  I admit that when I was typing out my resume it popped in my head but at the time I remember thinking how am I going to put that I’ve been going to school off and on for the last six years and don’t have a degree.  I can apply for my associate’s degree, but since I didn’t know I wasn’t returning to school until five minutes before he called and I don’t have the degree in had I felt it wasn’t right to put it on the resume. 

          These things plagued me and are still plaguing me.  I had wanted so badly to present myself professionally and put my best foot forward and it felt like the ultimate fail.  I am probably being too hard on myself but it felt even more important to present myself well since this is a friend.  You don’t want to fail on a friend.  Whether I get hired or not is not the point.  I just wish I had managed to present a more professional me.  I can write fiction or blogs all day long but telling all the wonderful things about me in a resume is hard enough, forgetting some of the most important points is just a kick in the pants.  It’s one of those times where I have to sigh and remember to keep loving me for who I am, even if that person is a bit of a flake.   

Sacred Negativity

          Ah, life.  You have to love it and all the wonderful lessons that come your way.  Okay, so I admit that I don’t always love the lessons I receive.  Sometimes it feels like the Universe is slapping me in the face over and over again and I have no idea why.  The crazy thing is when you realize that the slap in the face isn’t a slap at all, it’s probably more like a pat on the head but until you change your perspective you just feel like you’re being beat like a red-headed stepchild.  Lately, I’ve been getting smacked.  This semester, sorry I think in school terms, has been a real pain in my ass.  I feel like I’ve been jumping through hoops, dealt with rejection, screwed up schedules and smacked around by depression.  All in all I would vote that I never have to relive this semester again.  Or I would have voted that until last week, when I made one of my little discoveries.

          I had waited all day to go to my poetry class.  Please understand that parking is so bad at APSU that I get to school at 7 am, even though my class doesn’t start until 12:45 pm.  It’s the only class I have on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s which makes me not a fan of either day.  As I’ve mentioned in this blog before my poetry class has been pretty soul crushing.  When I walked into class there were only two people there.  They let me know that the professor had cancelled class for the week.  I had missed the week before and when I emailed my professor he said that he would let me know what the assignment for Tuesday would be.  Well here I am on Tuesday, standing there like an idiot, having waited all day for a class that was cancelled.  Apparently he had also split us into pairs and my partner had not contacted me like she was supposed to.  The two women that were there suggested that I stick around for a few minutes to see if my partner showed up.  I ungraciously agreed to stay.  A few minutes later another woman, who I honestly have to call a girl, came into class.  This is the same girl who takes up three quarters of the table, talks non-stop, and even though there is a good two foot space between our chairs still manages to bump into my chair, every class.  Guess who my partner is? 

          I’m not happy. My time has been wasted and now, damn it, I have this chick as my partner, really?  Do you hate me God?  My partner explains our assignment to me, and suggests that we work on it today since we are both here.  Really? No kidding.  We have to go over all of each other’s poems from the semester, so ten in all.  We have to comment and make suggestions, point out patterns, that kind of thing.  As I feel that I suck at poetry, I don’t feel that I can give this girl too much help but I do my best.  My generally kick ass memory helps me to remember many of the suggestions that the professor had made about her poetry.  By the end of the normal class period we manage to get through all the poems, which means we don’t have to come back on Thursday.  We’ve managed to create a day off for ourselves. 

          I’m walking back to my Jeep when that little inspirational light bulb finally clicks on.  I honestly believe that I can hear my angels and guides sighing with relief when the light turns on.  Like, finally she got it!  My team needs a raise.  Anyway, as I’m walking to the Jeep I remember that the night before I had been telling my husband how much I didn’t want to go to soul crushing poetry class.  It was so hard for me to go in and be torn apart.  I’m bad at poetry, I get it.  I told Ben, “It would be so cool if he would cancel class.”  DUH!  I asked for it, I got it.  I just missed the memo somewhere in there.  I got another week without being in poetry class!  I realized that something that had looked negative had turned into something fantastically positive.  And though she might be annoying at best, my partner was efficient, complimentary, and got the work done. 

          I sat in my Jeep mulling this over.  It occurred to me that there had been a few things over the past week or so that had turned out the same way.  They had looked negative, but they had all turned out to be positive.  Usually when something negative happens I try to remember things like, it’s happening for a reason or I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, but this was something new.  Instead of seeing the event as negative, I felt I needed to see it as a positive.  Catching myself was the challenge.  Like most people when something “negative” happens I immediately react.  I judge the situation for what it looks like on the surface without too much thought and react from that point.  When I got home I tried to make a list of all the things I perceived as “negative” and their actual outcome.  The list was quite a wakeup call and I thought I should give another example just because I can.

          Last Thursday, I went to a midnight showing with a couple friends.  This was a huge movie and the theater wasn’t showing anything but this movie that night.  Sixteen screens of the same movie, which means of course that the parking lot was full.  I managed to find the last parking spot over in Timbuktu.  I wasn’t real happy about that.  It was cold and the thought of having to walk eight miles to get to my car at two in the morning was not a happy thought either, but I was at the midnight showing and with my friends so get over it. 

          After the movie was over, hundreds of people were pouring out of the theater trying to get to their cars.  I managed to get to mine pretty quick and when I got there the three people parked around me all pulled out at roughly the same time, making a perfect hole for me to get through and I got out of the theater the back way.  I was home and in bed before either of my friends even made it out of the parking lot and I live about twenty minutes from the theater!  So much for bitching about a parking space.  When I wrote this one on my list I realized how perfect it was that I parked so far away.  The people who had close parking spaces or had parked in the middle had gotten caught between all the people going to their cars and the traffic itself. 

          As I examined my list I realized a couple of things.  Number one I needed to look at things a bit closer.  Instead of just seeing what’s on the surface, “I had to park far away,” I need to look at things to see what’s underneath, “by parking all the way over here I have a better chance of getting out easily.”  Along with that I need to stop judging and reacting to a situation without even thinking about it.  That one made me think about creating from default.  Instead of consciously creating many people just create from default, but that’s a whole other blog.  I needed to stop jumping to conclusions about the things happening around me and take a breath before I freak out.  I need to act not react.  Another thing that I realized is that the majority, and who knows it might be everything, of the negative things that happened to me turned out to be very positive, though I might not see the reason right away.

          So this is my lesson right now.  Stop the judging, act don’t react, and look for the positive because trust me it’s there.  Be open to the experience instead of closing yourself off immediately when it looks like it might be a bad or negative thing.  I like to use the kaleidoscope example, but that’s just because I have a thing for kaleidoscopes.  Right now as I look through at all the beautiful fragments that form my life I see situations as this is exactly where I am supposed to be or everything happens for a reason.  If I turn the wheel just a little bit I see a whole new pattern emerge and it’s even more beautiful than the one before it.  Now I can begin to see the positive purpose behind every event that occurs in my life.  Though I am still working on this lesson I think it might be one of the most beautiful I have ever been presented.  It’s a learning opportunity like no other.  I know I’m not going to be perfect, I completely freaked about the fridge breaking although I did catch myself, I know I will get better with practice.  It makes me feel so excited to wonder what beauty I will see on the next turn of the wheel. 

Epic Fail

A few special quotes:

Cat wrapped in bacon. 

I’ve had a backup plan my whole marriage.

Patented Emerga-Turd.

Heals On Wheels!

I love woody’s, they’re so fresh and hot! 

I’ve had woody’s three times this week!

Tasty Tidbit #1:  Smooth Criminal

            I bet the title alone made two of you laugh. 

             

Epic Fail

            I thought about calling this uber epic fail but I don’t know how to make my computer put an umlaut over the ‘u’.  How many times have you seen the word umlaut?  Kind of creepy when I look at it.  Makes me think of Oompa Loompa’s, which is also slightly creepy.  I think we need to move on.  So onto my current favorite subject…Dr. Socks.

            If I could punt kick this guy out of my life I would.  Since that’s illegal for some stupid reason, I guess I’m just going to cancel his show on ‘Ritas and Rants.  Thankfully we didn’t have a contract signed.  Let me back up to last Friday when I met the notorious Doc Sock at his new office.  There is no parking at this place.  You pull into the “lot” and end up trying to stick your vehicle into a teeny tiny space, between the building and a light pole, because that’s the only spot.  Not the only spot available, it’s literally the only spot.  After cramming my Jeep into this space I make my way inside.  I’m a customer service girl.  I expect excellent service, because when I am the one behind the desk or on the phone I am going to give excellent service. 

            This chick, and I use the word in the most demeaning way possible is filing her nails when I walk in.  Okay, you’re bored I get it no problem.  Might I suggest that when the customer comes in that you put the file down!  Or you could look at the customer, keeping in mind this is a mental health clinic, like they are interrupting your day and be rude.  Cause that would be awesome.  I sit down in one of the chairs that doesn’t have a messed up cushion (did I mention that this was his new office?) and get ready to wait, because Doc Sock likes to be late.  There are no pictures hung up yet and the walls are the same color as shrimp that was recently regurgitated.  Shockingly, Doc Sock shows up on time, dare I say early? 

            Two of the must have’s for every mental clinic is a reception area with a glass window and a locked door.  Once I am ushered through the locked door, opened of course by the PHD of Calf Grabbing, he takes me into his office.  Its two steps from the reception area.  The place is so tiny it’s like waiting in a walk in closet and walking into a broom closet.  The word I would use is economy.  Before we are even seated I’m catching a vibe from Doc.  As he sits down he grumbles that he hates these chairs and then he remarks that he doesn’t like the way the office is set up.  My guess is he was on the rag, but it’s only a guess.  The room is four walls of vomited shrimp without a single picture to block any of it.  It’s blinding.  All I can see is this disgusting color.  Is it necessary to say that it made me feel a little nauseous? 

            Now begins the shortest therapy session I have ever had in my life and one of the worst.  Although, lady that told me to have a baby because that would fix all my problems still takes first place.  After chatting for about five minutes about so of my more personal issues, Doc Sock gets frustrated.  Here’s a sampling of how the conversation went (as close as I can remember)

Doc Sock: “Well Sara, I’m not sure where to go from here.”

Me: Silence from me.  I’m thinking “If you don’t know where to go from here how the hell am I supposed to know.”

 Doc Sock: “I really think we should put you on the med board.  It takes two months to even get you an evaluation, plenty of time for you to back out.”

Me:  Still silent, now looking at my socks.  It’s clear this guy can’t or won’t help me all he wants is the drug company kick backs.  It’s disappointing.

Silence in the room for about a minute.

Doc Sock: “So what do you think about that?”

Me: “I don’t think so.  I told you I’m not interested in taking pills.”

Doc Sock: “Well I don’t know what else to do at this point.  I honestly think this would be the best way to go.”

Me: “I don’t want to take pills.”

Doc Sock: “Well then let’s schedule another appointment for a next week.”

Me (looking at him like he has a dick growing out of his forehead):  “I have an appointment set up for next week.”

Doc Sock: “Oh well then I guess we’re all set.”

There was a bit more to the conversation but not much.  I was in and out in less than twenty minutes though I feel confident that Dr. Socks did the right thing and charged my insurance for a full session.  After this depressing session, always great when you’re already depressed like hey it’s so bad my therapist doesn’t know what to do; I decided to cancel Doc Sock.  Oh and if you’re wondering why I’m calling him Doc Sock, it’s because he only gets one.  He doesn’t deserve a pair. 

Dr. Sock's Strikes Again

This week is filled with a lot of Rant and not nearly enough ‘Ritas.

Tasty Tidbit #1:  Cut Off

            All right bitches, I’ve just about had it.  The last week, week and a half my life has been filled with people talking over, under, and through me.  Figure that out if you can.  I’ve had several conversations where people just plow in.  I’ve had people hang up on me, not out of anger they just seem to forget that we’re talking and hang up.  I’ve had people call me up to ask me a question and then talk right over me when I try to answer them.  It’s a thoroughly frustrating situation. 

            I used to be one of those people and once in awhile I slip back into the habit of talking over people.  Most of the time I’m just so excited and I want to share, but no matter how you justify it what you are saying is “what I have to say is more important, listen to me.”  These instances of people talking over me remind me that I need to watch myself in case I’m slipping back into that old habit.  As far as I can tell I have not, although I may get a barrage of Facebook comments to the contrary.  So what’s with the conversation killers?  I have no idea.  The only other idea I came up with is maybe this is an opportunity for me to practice using my voice.  Tell people to STFU, only I would probably say it nicer than that.  The part that frustrates me the most about the situation are the people that ask questions and then talk over you.  Why the hell did you call me then?  If you’re going to ask me something I am happy to listen and answer you to the best of my ability, but it would help if you would shut up long enough for me to do so.

Tasty Tidbit #2: Nibbling

            I like to ask questions.  The only problem with questions is that sometimes you get an answer.  You never know where the conversation is going to go with my friends, which are the best kind of conversations.  It just so happens that on this night we were talking about sex. Something relating to chocolate stampedes (or was it panties?) and I brought up the subject of candy panties.  Now, I personally have never purchased a pair.  It seems like an odd concept to me.  The thong, I’m assuming it’s a thong I don’t think they come in boy shorts, is made out of the same candy as those old candy necklaces.  It didn’t make much sense to me that you would want to be wearing these and having someone munch on them because I would imagine the pieces might break off and they might be sharp, which sounds like the opposite of a good time. I was about to ask what my friends thought the string was made out of when one of them piped up that she had purchased a pair for her husband.  That requires some clarification.  It wasn’t for her husband to wear, are you getting it?  At that point I had to stop and think, not easy when you’re on a roll, did I want to ask any further questions.  Speculation is one thing, knowing the actually answer is quite another. 

            Questions were not needed.  My friend proceeded to explain that they never used the panties, not in the traditional manner anyway.  She said that one night they sat down to watch a movie and, broke out the candy panties and sat on the couch, nibbling on them.  Fight Club and candy panties, it’s a party! (I don’t think they were actually watching Fight Club but for some reason that’s the movie that came to mind.  Please don’t ask me why.)

By the way in case you wanted to know, according to my friend the string is made from licorice. 

And now another episode of: Sara’s Just a Little Bit Nuts

Starring: Dr. Socks

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Hey!  I Can Reach My Calf From Here!

            I have to say that as much as I mock this guy, I think he really is helping.  Not in a direct way, it’s more that mind fucking way that shrinks do so well.  Most of the time what he says pisses me off, which I guess is a good thing somehow.  Not sure exactly how that works but I guess it does.  This time after walking the labyrinth and making it to his little dungeon of an office, I choose to sit on the sofa.  The orange chair experience was just too freaky to repeat.  But I’m jumping ahead.  To fully enjoy the flavor of this experience we need to begin at the beginning.  In this case, the waiting room.

            The thing I like about this waiting room, besides the gum machine, is that everyone here isn’t pretending to be normal.  It’s a room full of nuts, acting like we’re nuts.  There’s the young girl in the corner playing rap music on her cellphone, turned up full blast.  The redneck couple fighting about who’s going to buy cigarettes when they leave, but my favorite this time was a little boy and his family.  At first I thought that the young woman who sat on the sofa beside him was his sister.  He was sitting on the couch kicking her in the back, yelling at her to move.  The woman simply ignored him.  She was adding minutes to her cellphone the whole time he’s kicking her.  Another woman, probably about 45ish came and sat down opposite them.  In a thoroughly exhausted voice she said, “Joey stop.”  This was ignored and the older woman, let’s call her Martha, told the younger one, Suzy to move.  At this point I realized that Suzy was the mother.  The entire time we sat there, she never once batted an eye at this kid.  She completely ignored him.  She read out all the new games she had on her phone and how many minutes she had and that she had already received four text messages.  Martha never really looked at the kid either, and every few minutes would sigh and half tell Joey to stop.  Never mind that Joey was on the loose.  He was running around, screaming, and jumping on furniture.  Now, I understand that some kids have problems; this little boy probably did have a problem.  I think his biggest problem was his lazy ass mother.  I honestly thought, at first, that they were there for the mother.  Turns out they had an appointment for the kid.  The grandmother was saying something about upping his meds.  Maybe he needed them upped or maybe he just needed some attention and discipline.   I seriously wanted to punch both women in the face.  No doctor, I don’t feel any violent tendencies. 

            That was how my experience started this time and I wasn’t pleased.  To add to this Dr. Socks was late.  Strike two.  When we got into the office and I was seated on the couch, Dr. Socks took the orange chair of fetal position death that I had sat in last time.  I immediately saw two things.  One I saw what I must have looked like sitting in that chair last time, and it wasn’t pretty.  Two, I had a very clear visual on his socks again.  He leaned all the way back in the chair and put his left leg up with the ankle basically resting on his right knee.  That left me staring at a solid four inches of sock. 

            We went through more questions and I found myself surprised that he actually remembered or had reviewed my file.  At one point he asked me about school and what I wanted to do, blah, blah, and I said writer.  Then he asked what I was doing to work towards that, did I have a blog?  Well by golly gosh I sure do.  I failed to mention that he’s currently the main character, but he didn’t ask either.  About halfway through the session he must have had an itch because he started reaching for his ankle, either that or he was just trying to hang on, that damn chair needs a seatbelt.  His hand would rest for a moment on his ankle and then it began to make its ascent.  The guy hand his hand halfway up his pants gripping his calf.  At least he was skilled enough in his calf grabbing that he wasn’t showing off any skin.  Just yards and yards of sock.

Feeling Sneaky

For those of you who might peek on here just to see if I posted something, here you go.  I plan to stick to my every other week schedule, but there were some things I just needed to get out.  A little ranting can go a long way. 

Tasty Tidbit #1:  There is No “H”

            Spell my name right, please.  There is no H at the end of my name.  In a society that uses things like “u” for you, “r” for are, the dreaded “k” for okay, and the ultra hated “kk” for I’m really okay or to end a conversation, I find it strange that people want to add letters.  Is it really that hard?  S-A-R-A.  Look, no H.  You want to insult my creative talents, fine.  You want to crush any hope I had of becoming a poet, spiffy.  You want to try to analyze me and judge me when you don’t even know me, fantastic.  But spell my goddamn name right when you do it.  I can understand if you ask me, is there an H on the end?  I’ll tell you no.  But if you ask me, or if you have my name in PRINT and then STILL spell my name wrong, you just suck.  To me it’s careless inattention to detail.  Don’t ask me for something, don’t have my name spelled out in front of you and then ignore it, it makes you look like a waste of organic material.  I’m just saying.

Tasty Tidbit #2:  Two Dead Caterpillars

            I saw something both beautiful and tragically sad on my walk the other day.  I bet you can’t guess what it was.  The whole caterpillar butterfly metamorphosis thing has been quite prevalent in my life lately, so seeing these two dead little guys made me feel a little crushed.  I found the first one during the first quarter mile of the trail.  He was bright green and his insides had been squashed to the outside.  It looked like he had been trampled by a running, poor maybe one of those baby strollers that I see people running with.  That has to be one hell of a ride for the kid.  Anyway, I stopped and looked at his crushed little body all his insides exposed in a gooey mess.  I wondered if he knew he was dead, if he felt the spark of life leave him when the shoe came down.  I don’t think caterpillars have brains, at least not in the way that we think of a brain.  More an instinctual relay center.  Further up the trail I saw a black and orange caterpillar curled into a horseshoe shape on the side of the trail.  He looked like he had been either frightened or frozen to death.  He was fuzzy with a bright orange blotch his back, probably some survival mechanism to keep predators away.  Maybe the orange is a warning, “don’t eat me I’m poisonous,” type of thing.  I wondered if these caterpillars knew that their lives had been cut short, but what made me feel the worst was thinking that these two would never become butterflies or even moths.  They would never undertake the journey of metamorphosis.  When a caterpillar changes into a butterfly it’s DNA changes completely, there is nothing left of the caterpillar DNA at all.  I once asked the question when a caterpillar changes into butterfly did it remember being a caterpillar.  If I remember correctly the consensus was no, it would not remember, but I hope that they do.  Such a powerful journey to undertake, whether through instinct or courage and though it may be painful to go through how much more would we savor it if we could say here I am all wings and light, it wasn’t bad being a caterpillar.  I was courageous to take the journey. I want to remember those feelings of taking those first steps toward total evolution. 

Tasty Tidbit #3: Exposure

            I’ve had a couple of requests to post some of my class tortured poetry on this blog.  I thought about it for a long time before deciding that I’m not ready yet.  It’s not that I think anyone will make fun of it or anything like that, I just don’t feel like it’s time for those poems to come out into the daylight again, at least not yet.  Each time we create we put a little bit of ourselves into that creation.  If the creation is well accepted it tends to thrive.  If instead the creation is treated with disdain, disrespect and some other D word of negative connotation, the creations tend to shrivel.  To me, my writings are like children.  I give birth to each one. I tend to it, care for it, watch it grow and evolve.  When people smack my children around they need time to heal and so do I.  Right now my poetry children are huddled up under a blanket, frightened that if they show themselves they will get beaten again.  My job is to heal both them and myself.  I must be gentle.  I must realize that sometimes there is bad writing and love those creative children for who they are and what I can learn from them.  When the time is right I will post some of my poems on this blog, but not right now.  We’re still healing.

I'm Pretty Sure He Irons His Socks

I thought it might be informative and fun (at least for me), to write this week’s blog and possible some future blogs focusing on my shrink appointments and my road back to me.

I’m Pretty Sure He Irons His Socks

            I’m talking about my shrink of course.  On the phone he sounded all country, which made me a little afraid.  Why do the office buildings for these guys always look like old torture chambers, or at minimum like old moldy high schools?  I love the waiting rooms.  Ten crazy people all trying not to look crazy as we flip through Woman’s Day, or Newsweek.  I try not to look around too much when I’m sitting there although and this is going to sound so horrible, it is nice to know you aren’t the craziest person in the room.  When they call my name to finish up my insurance paperwork, they just yell out, Sara, because nobody wants to even try to pronounce my last name.  And I’m not exaggerating here, the lady yells my name.  Because that’s a good idea in a room full of nuts.  In Screaming Sally’s office I sit down and she takes off with my military id card.  Naturally I have a look around, and what do I see?  A diploma from Bible Thumper University.  Now I have no problem with the Bible, but I am an open minded individual who considers herself spiritual not thumping.  I even said, uh-oh, under my breath.  After paperwork, in which I signed two documents without seeing either of them, it was back out to the waiting room.  They have a gum machine out there, one of those kind with the chicklet’s in it.  I love those damn things.  I munch my gum and I’m digging for another quarter when this high speed city slicker voice calls my name.  I don’t know how you can sound totally country on the phone and like a New Yorker in person, it was a strange transformation. 

            And there he was, Dr. Shrink.  He led me through a maze of hallways that made me think of the labyrinth and just when I was starting to wonder where the Minotaur was, we came to a tiny room with two chairs, a desk, and a sofa crammed into it.  He told me to have a seat wherever so I took a comfortable looking orange chair.  Mistake.  It was so old that it creaked every time I breathed.  It also rocked so I looked like I was trying to do the fetal position through the whole session.  He had a nice yellow notepad and shot questions at me filling three pages with I have no idea what.  Problem- he’s a pill pusher.  This is what he said, “If there was a pill that could make you feel happy, that could make you feel better, that had no side effects, why wouldn’t you take it?”  I smiled and tried not to be a bitch.  I replied that the idea of a pill with no side effects was great but that nasal spray can kill you now-a-days and that I have a sensitive system when it comes to pills.  I explained that pills were an absolute last ditch, save my life, no alternative; Janis, Peggy, and Leah all tell me I need them, solution.  He tried to tell me that pills these days only have mild side effects.  Yeah, because the pill that screws with my brain is going to be less lethal than nasal spray, really? 

            After he reminded me to keep an open mind, yeah right, he continued with his questions.  I was distracted which probably made me look unfocused or more nuts, but I couldn’t stop staring at his socks.  He’s a skinny guy, and he had on a nice stripped button down shirt, iron grey pants that looked like they had been ironed ten or twelve times the crease was so perfect, these nice shoes, which were worn on the bottom, and then these socks.  They are the prissy pull up fancy socks that office guys wear.  They’re the kind of socks that if I was undressing a guy and took off his pants and he had those socks on I would laugh his ass out of the room.  I know they are dress socks, but come on.  These were black with diamond patterns on them and all I could do was stare.  I was wondering how far up his leg they went and then I thought I didn’t want to know the answer to that question.  For some reason those socks captivated me, and not in a good way. 

            The session ended on two sour notes for me.  The first was that Dr. Socks told me that I had to give my step-dad, Randy credit for stopping his drinking.  My first thought was, no I don’t.  My second was, don’t tell me what I’m supposed to think sock-boy.  The other thing that left me wondering if I made a poor choice in head doctor’s (by the way, I choose him by pulling his name out of a hat, literally, no joke and no I didn’t tell him that) was that after he finished his third page of writing he set his notebook down, and asked me if we had anything else to talk about.  You’re the shrink, you tell me.  When I got to the car I realized we had ended almost twenty minutes early.  I’m betting he billed Tri-Care for the full fifty-five minute session.  I have another appointment with him tomorrow.  I’m just wondering what kind of socks he’ll be wearing.  Like a good friend said to me when I told her about this mis-adventure, at least I’ll have something to blog about.