Self Portrait

I took some self portraits with my new camera. I don't spend a lot of time in front of the mirror. I imagine that I look a lot younger than I actually do. But looking at yourself on a 30" monitor in a 60MB file is daunting! Wow, have I aged. Luckily I can edit that out so you only see what I think I look like! In my mind I'm still in my twenties — young and carefree and haven't a wrinkle anywhere.

I still think I'm short and pale, so I do have some grasp of reality!

Don't Take it Personally

I didn't realize that I was tearing apart my whole way of being to try on something new. I thought I was just in a bit of a funk. I mean I have been changing for the last year, but all the changes seemed so minor: some lasik eye surgery, losing 15 pounds, kicking important people out of my life who had nothing to give me, speaking my mind a little bit more (although there are some who say I do it too much already). Heck, I just assumed it was some sort of mid-life crisis. I haven't bought the sports car yet, but I'm considering it. I guess what I am going through is more important than all those things. 

It's a lot harder to change then just saying you are going to change. You have to carry through even when you don't know where you are going. There's no end point of this journey that I am on right now. I just know that I have to take this journey and I have to do it now. I know who I am now, but I have no idea who I will be. I'm not even sure who I want to be. Apparently, I'm suppose to just let go and let it happen. That's definitely not who I am, so we'll see if that works at all. There is the possibility of this free-flowing life making me crazy. But I have to be open to the idea of that being OK. See, I have control issues and I need to learn that I can't control everything.

The advice that I received was, "Don't take it personally." Hmm... your whole life is changing around you, not always for the better, and I'm not suppose to take any of it personally. I'm still pondering that. How can you live your life and not take what happens to you personally? That's not a hypothetical question. Really, if you know the answer to that, tell me. I'm sure there's some eastern philosophy about being water that applies here, but I have a hard time internalizing that.

Well, I've chosen a road to walk down, let's see where it leads, and if a shiny, new sports car will get me there faster!

Photoshopping Cat

I think when my cat is reincarnated she's going to be a Photoshop wizard. Every night when I am working on my photos she sits on my desk and watches the screen. Now somedays she swats at the cursor on the screen and tries to catch it (those are her playful days), but on her serious days she lays down and stares up at the screen. I swear she is memorizing all the menus and tricks that I have learned. 

I hope she's better than I am when she comes back.

I Like Onions but Onions Don't Like Me

My grandmother use to say that every time we went out to eat Chinese food. Every time. I would look at her and wonder what the heck she was talking about. If you like onions, eat onions. Well, at 12 nothing really disagrees with you, so it's hard to understand stomach problems. Now that I'm older, I like onions, but onions don't like me. 

I imagine there's a world of things I could have learned from my grandmother if only I could understand her better.

Today I'm Annoyed

I don't know why. But today is rubbing me the wrong way. Maybe it's all the stupid Christmas movies on the television or the pictures I have piling up that I need to process. Maybe it's the fact that I had a fight with a roll of seamless paper and the paper actually won. Maybe it's because my feet are always cold or the fact that I'm allergic to my own cats. And speaking of those cats, they spend all day sleeping when they could be cleaning the house - man that's annoying.

I guess there is just no magic in my life right now. No inspiration. Nothing to jump up and down about. What I need is that one special friend that can bring me out of my funk by making me laugh at myself. But you know what is really annoying? I don't have that friend in my life right now. 

Pathological Liars

I've known a few. There used to be nothing more frustrating to me than a pathological liar. They will say anything to win an argument, to impress you, or to just hear themselves talk. Now, they fascinate me. I guess it is because I'm a horrible liar. When I was little I used to make up these crazy tall tales when my Mom would question me. Finally she had a little talk with me. "I know your lying when you make up a long-winded story about what happened." I had a tell. And she was kind enough to point it out to me. The lesson I learned, if you are going to lie, make it simple or people will know. But pathological liars make it bigger and better each time. They don't even care if you don't believe them, they just keep on lying. They keep lying until they wear you down enough to say that you believe them.

One of my dearest friends is a pathological liar. For a while I thought I was going crazy. He would tell me things that I knew were not true, and I would second guess myself all the time. That is until I figured out the game. Then I stopped playing and things changed for the better. He grew comfortable with me so he lied less. And I learned not to bare my soul to him so I wouldn't get mad when he used it in some twisted lie. It's all about compromise. Every relationship requires compromise. Some more than others. Most people would say being friends with a pathological liar is not worth it, but I think it can be. It's never dull, that's for sure.

I Don't Need to Listen to This

I'm big into social responsibility. If somebody talks to me, I feel compelled to talk back. Somebody asks for change, I need to respond. Somebody asks for directions, social law dictates that I give them directions. If the lady at the bus stop asks me what I ate for dinner, I tell her what I ate for dinner. 

And then I met the meanest neighbor ever. He hated that my cats sat on his porch. Never mind that he fed them, they shouldn't be there. He hated the way I parked my car, left a note on my windshield that said, "Nice parking job asshole." He didn't sign it, but I know it was him. He came to my door and yelled about my cats. I stood there and listened and let him go on. I felt compelled to listen. He eventually left when he ran out of things to yell. Then he tried it again one Sunday morning at 9 am. Now I am never up at 9 am on a Sunday morning, much less dressed and going out. But there I was going to my car when he runs over and starts his tirade. And something just clicked in my head. I didn't have to listen to this. Just because he wants to yell DOES NOT mean I have to listen. I don't owe this angry, angry man anything at all. So I cocked my head and looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Excuse me, I don't need to listen to this." And I walked around him. His demeanor immediately changed. He apologized, introduced himself and claimed he wasn't that upset, but my cats did spend a lot of time on his porch; so much time, that he felt it necessary to feed them. I said, "OK" and just kept walking.

I learned that I don't need to listen to everything that everybody says, even if they are standing right in front of me. There was no listening to that crap and there was no arguing with him. He didn't earn the right to talk to me that way and he didn't deserve my attention. 

I now ask myself these questions more often, "Do I owe this person anything? Have they earned the right? Do I need to stand here and take it? Is there anything I can say to change their mind?" I think more people have seen me cock my head and give them my quizzical "I don't give a shit" look before excusing myself out of their life. It's one of the best lessons I ever learned.

Meet Jessie

Jessie's owner approached me on the beach and asked me to take pictures of her. He said he would pay; I declined the money but took the pictures. I figured why not. I gave him one of my cards and told him to send me an email and I would send him the pictures. He never sent the email, so I can't send him the pictures. I wonder why they came into my life and what I should do with his images. I don't go to the beach but once a year, maybe, and I have no way to contact Jessie's owner. As I believe all things happen for a reason, there's a reason for this, I just don't know what it is.

Sappy Movie Line

"I'm just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her." It's from Notting Hill. I will watch the whole sappy movie just to hear that line. It's probably the only movie line that I can quote. I'm just horrible at memorizing them. But for some reason that line sticks with me.

Perhaps because I'm just an old sap at heart — a hopeless, closet romantic. Maybe it's because I wish I had the guts to say that line to somebody. Or maybe I'm just a Julia Roberts/Hugh Grant fan. Who really knows?

I Should Kick Butt

You know that feeling when you find out somebody you liked was dating somebody else while they were leading you on? You know the sinking feeling in your gut, the anger, the shaking of limbs, the clenching of the fist, the darting of the eyes, the brain reliving every stupid minute? Quite some time has passed and I don't even talk to that person anymore. I shouldn't even care, but for some reason the news hit me like a completely unexpected ton of bricks. And I can't throw those bricks back. Or can I?

I will do no harm, I will do no harm, I will do no harm.

No matter what harm is inflicted upon me, I will do no harm. It sounds good in theory.

Lasik Blues

I had my four-month check up today and my right eye just keeps getting worse for distance, but it's super fantastic for reading. Would you believe that I may have to go back to glasses for driving at night? I'm bummed. Really bummed. I probably shouldn't be because I can finally read the computer screen without getting a headache. And really since I spend most of my day working on a computer, it's probably a good thing. The doctor says at my age, it's probably a blessing in disguise. Now I'll probably get five additional years without reading glasses. My fear is that it will keep getting worse. It takes six months they say for your sight to stabilize, it's only been four. I'm not getting the glasses for a couple months to see if it's stable. It would really piss me off if I had to buy two pairs of glasses after the promise of no more glasses! Imagine the money you will save in eyeglasses they said. HA!

They offered to do touch up surgery, but that seems silly right now. I can still see pretty well. 20/30 combined for distance. But it's like 20/15 out of my left eye. It makes up for the crappy right eye. Plus, I really want to be able to read and they think the touch up surgery would put me in reading glasses immediately since the left eye can barely see to read. That sucks.

The bummer part is that it's my right eye, my dominant eye. Which means the eye I use to look through the view finder in my camera. So that makes taking pictures a little odd. I adjusted the diopter on the view finder, but it still feels like it's off. Thank heavens for auto focus, I can at least use that as a backup when I am manually focusing.

Well, I'm not the poster child for Lasik, that's for sure. Makes me wish I went the cheap route instead of finding the best surgeon in the metro area. Then having a crappy result would have been expected. Now I paid big money, drove for hours to my appointments and still have one crappy eye, but at least I can read this as I type it.

What's the Lesson?

Honestly, I'm having a hard time figuring out the lesson here. I occasionally do random nice things for people. I just do it, I don't expect anything in return. Most of the time, people say thank you and life goes on. But sometimes, it becomes a springboard for people to try to get more. And it pisses me off. They act like I just handed them a menu of items for them to pick and choose from. Now I regret giving anything at all to them and I have to figure out how to deal with it. Because all I want to do is tell them where to get off. Should I not give what I was planning to give? Should I just tell them their behavior sucks? I mean I'm obviously not giving any more than was promised by me, but now I regret giving anything at all. And I'm right back into "I hate people" mode which is a lot of work for me to get out of. 

So what's the lesson? Stop giving? Stop being nice? Wait for people to earn it? Make people prove themselves to me before I honor them with anything at all? Crap, that pisses me off even more. Now I'm in a cycle that I can't get out of. Pissed off at myself for being nice and pissed off at others because I can't be nice anymore. Now I'm one of those angry, mean, non-giving people I hate.

Fantastic.

Baby Sandra

For years, I gave my Mom a hard time about not having any pictures of me as a baby. I'm the youngest of three. And my sisters were some sort of amazing miracle. They were first, they were identical twins, and they were born with a full head of hair so they were amazingly photogenic from day one on this planet. I was last, just one baby, not a boy, and bald so I was not as popular. The only photographs my Mom had of me started on my first birthday. I mean there is an entire album of my sisters' first everything. First time they said "coo", first time they rolled over, first time they farted, first time they blinked twice, first time they lifted their heads, first time they waved, first time they looked sideways — I'm not exaggerating. You should see the album. Then you get to my page in one of our family albums and it's "Sandra's First Birthday." Shoot, I had to wait a year before anybody noticed me and put me in an album. I thought they might be waiting for me to grow some hair, but even then what little hair I did have was up in a ribbon — you know the kind they put on girls so you don't mistake them for a boy. 

We have since learned that Mom switched to slide film for a year, my first year. All my baby pictures are on slides. Apparently it was the wave of the future back then. Somewhere around my first birthday, Mom decided it wasn't for her and she went back to film negatives. 

This year for my birthday, she converted a bunch of them into digital photographs for me. I think she's tired of me giving her a hard time. 

The shot above is my Mom, sister Cindy on the left, sister Shelley on the right and me, the bald one in the middle. I imagine that my Dad is taking the picture.

So there you have it, I did exist before my first birthday and there is evidence of it.

NYC and M&Ms!

My family took me to NYC as a birthday surprise. We took a day trip. Over 4 hours each way on a bus for about 8 hours in NYC. We went to see Mamma Mia on Broadway. It was a great show and we had really good seats. I haven't even seen the movie so it was a great surprise.

But I was super duper excited to go to the M&Ms store. Three floors of just M&M stuff. An endless variety of useless M&M items. It's like being in Disneyland where you feel the need to buy those stupid mouse ears because everyone else has them. You just want to buy stuff! I think we did very well, only one t-shirt and a bag of M&Ms between us. But we spent a lot of time looking around and taking pictures.

Six Days Later

Today is my friend's birthday. I've known him for eight years now. My birthday is six days after his and he never, I mean NEVER, remembers it. And he's always been fascinated by the fact that we are both Scorpios. It's a big deal to him. He's always talking about Scorpios and their behaviors. Really he just uses all that Scorpio stuff to justify his own bad behavior because Scorpio men are the worst and he knows it. He also thinks it explains why we get along so well because we both think alike. I think it explains why we fight all the time because we're both stubborn and need to be right no matter what the cost. We've had some huge fights. We've also survived eight years as friends. Maybe we're both right.

This year he called me on October 14th to wish me a happy birthday. Cracked me up. He said, "Well at least I'm early!" True, three weeks early. Who am I to complain? He called me a week later to wish me happy birthday again. I think he's going to call me once a week and hope he's lucky enough to call on the right day. Each call he asks me the date to try to remember it. I tell him, but I still think he's going to forget. You'd think in eight years he would remember that my birthday is a few days after his. Perhaps the exact date would slip his mind but the proximity to his own birthday should trigger some kind of memory. It just doesn't.

I have to give him some credit, at least he's trying this year. In eight years he's never once wished me a happy birthday and now I'm getting a happy birthday once every week. I guess he is making up for all those years he forgot. I wonder if I'll be getting eight years worth of gifts as well?

UPDATE: He didn't call on my birthday. Just like I thought. Amazing. I guess change is harder than it seems! There goes my dream of all those un-given gifts.

Nice = Gullible

In what world is this true? Did I miss a memo? Why do people assume that because you are nice, you are also stupid? I equate gullible with stupid. So I'm just going to use those interchangeably here. Do we think that people haven't learned life's hard lessons because they are still being nice? Is there some sort of mental deficiency equated with niceness because surely if you were fully capable of rational thought, you would be mean? Is it some sort of given that I'm just not aware of? I'm pretty jaded and I'm still nice. I still want to give to people and the universe. I believe that in order to make the world a better place we have to give more than we take. But that doesn't make me gullible or stupid.

I took a personality test and it came back with words to describe me, kind, genuine, thoughtful, and gullible. Huh? What question did I answer that gave you the impression that I'm gullible? I don't remember the question that read, "Some guy tells you his grandmother just got hit by a train while watching TV in her living room and that's why he didn't call, do you believe him?" or "Your best friend is wearing your favorite shirt and tells you she didn't take it, do you believe her?" Honestly, come on. That test had no gullibility questions, just niceness questions. Because people are nice does NOT mean they are gullible. I will not believe every stupid thing that comes out of your mouth. I will probably be nice enough to let you save face, but don't mistake that for gullible. I do not believe you and it does change my opinion of you. I know it will surprise you when I'm not as nice as I used to be and I don't give you what you ask for anymore. I just don't understand why it surprises you. You are the one lying and trying to take advantage of me, why did you assume it would work? Because I'm a nice person? Seems to me that I'm not the stupid one in this equation. 

Dreams

I've been thinking a lot about dreams lately. Not the kind you have a night (although those have been odd these past few weeks), but the aspiration kind of dreams. A friend of mine is off living his dreams and it's invigorating and tiring all at the same time. He talks of his big plans and everything he is going to do in the future. His whole life is before him. It's invigorating because he radiates excitement and you want to go along for the ride. It's tiring because I'm so over the big dreams and the crazy ride of trying to achieve them. I did all that already.

I mean, I lived my dream. Yes, lived, past tense. My biggest dream was to work in a design firm. I have an economics degree and no fine arts background. How in the world was I going to be a graphic artist? And why did I want to be one? I don't know. I just did. I guess my need to be creative was stronger than my need to be logical. And I worked many, many low-paying jobs to get experience. I used what experience I did have and worked myself into places that would never hire an economics major as a production person. And now I work in a two-person design firm. It's my dream job. I actually thought the job I had before this one was my dream job until it blew up in my face! But for 5 years it was my dream job and now this job is. I can't imagine working anywhere else.

But have I gotten too complacent? I mean should I have a new dream or can I be totally happy living the old dream? Thanks to my over-stimulating friend, I feel like I should have a new dream. I thought about just living vicariously through him. Heck, he dreams enough for an army of people. But that's not enough or right even. I should have my own dream. I've been independent my whole life, no point changing that part of me now and riding on the dream coattails of another.

So one day my horoscope (don't get on me about that, I read them, I don't live by them) said "Write down your dreams, they are about to come true." OK, I thought, not a bad exercise. So I wrote down the craziest of impossible dreams and I put them under my pillow. I don't expect a single one of them to come true because these were my wildest dreams — dreams I don't even admit that I have to myself. So if you think you are going to read about them here, you are wrong. You'd have to have access to under my pillow to know these dreams.

But I will tell you about some of my more pragmatic dreams. I'm thinking about taking off work for a month and traveling somewhere. Maybe living by a beach. Malibu looks pretty cool to me. I've never been there. But what would I do with the cats? See, dreams at my age come with restrictions and limitations. But I guess we really only limit ourselves. I'll have to keep that in my head and see if I want to make it a reality. I also dream of taking a photograph of somebody famous, but then I think since I don't value fame in and of itself, that is a little bit shallow of me. Really I just want to take inspirational photographs of whoever steps in front of my camera. I want to make art with my photographs. That is a good dream. Perhaps I should try to get in some local galleries or shows. I'll have to fine-tune that dream a bit. To be honest, I want to see where my photography will take me, not where I will take it. So maybe in time a dream will reveal itself to me.

On one of my photography sites, I try to write out a little dream every day. But now, I'll have to dream bigger and see what my future holds for me.

You Can’t Believe the Heart You Save

It's a line in a Matchbox Twenty song. I'm a huge fan, many of their lyrics resonate with me. But that line comes into my head often. I sometimes wonder if I could go through my life like Jimmy Stewart did in It's a Wonderful Life, would there be any hearts that I saved? I know I strongly impacted one life and that's amazing to me. But I do wonder if the seemingly unimportant contact I've had with many people throughout my life meant more than I know.

I know that people have much more of an impact on me than I let on. For example, there have been times I just wanted to give photography up and somebody out of nowhere will leave me a tag that says "You inspire me." And I go on. For if I can truly inspire just one person, it is more than most people can do. I always thank the person, but I'm sure they don't realize that they just refueled my empty heart with a few simple words. How do you express that adequately? Can you ever?

I thank all the people who have saved my heart. Since I'm so stoic you probably don't know who you are, but you are very important to me! I just hope that I can pay it forward, even when I don't know that I am.

M&Ms: The Food of Life

I love peanut M&Ms. I eat them everyday. I think a day without M&Ms is not worth living. Honestly. Right now I'm trying to eat healthy and I save calories for M&Ms. About 10 a day. 5 after lunch and 5 after dinner. 

When I travel, I take them with me. Not a snack size bag, but the large bag. I don't want to be caught anywhere without M&Ms. I have a bag at work and a bag at home. If I'm going on a long car ride, I'll put some in a Ziploc bag and take them along.

It's funny, friends think I like chocolate; so they buy me fine chocolates. That's not it. It's M&Ms. My mom is the only one who gets it. She buys me peanut M&Ms for every holiday — Christmas, birthday, Valentine's Day, Easter. Whatever gift giving occasion there is, she gives me M&Ms and there is no better gift.

If you invite me over to your house for dinner and have M&Ms for dessert, I will think you are perfect. Just perfect. Sometimes, I take my own in my purse. I only pull them out if absolutely necessary.

I'm not crazy or anything; I just really like M&Ms.

All Things Random Have an Order

I'm not a people person. Never have been. I don't seek out crowds. I need one good friend in my life to be truly happy. I've never had more than 5 at a time. I like to devote my attention to one good person at a time. It's just my nature. I usually pick the cream of the crop - the people that I really get along with, can laugh with, can be me around.

And then there are the one-offs. These are the people who are so not my type, who I generally avoid like the plague. They come waltzing into my life just like they belong and I'm usually staring at them asking them to get the hell out. But they don't. It's like they sit down in the middle of the living room of my heart and refuse to leave. I'm usually trying to drag them kicking and screaming out the front door. I fight and fight and fight and they just sit there driving me mad. Then, when I realize they aren't going away, I get them a drink and wait for them to tell me why they are here. Funny thing is, they don't know. I'm not their type either and they don't really like me. They look at me like I'm the stranger in my own heart. But for some reason they can't leave. They don't leave. They wait for me to tell them why they are here in my life. 

At the time, I have no idea. Crap, I'm some girl you just met, how the hell do I know why you are here and won't leave. I have since learned it's because something intense is going to happen to them. They are drawn to me like a life vest. It's like I'm their last ditch effort to save themselves, but it's a subconscious effort. They don't know that their world is about to change in ways they never imagined and they don't know that they need a life vest. Heck, I don't see it either because we're usually not that close. But somebody/something sees it and knows exactly the right time to throw us together.

We are unlikely companions, stuck together by some twist of fate. Looking back it seems like such a small twist, almost inconsequential, but really it's life changing. It was the touch of a hand or the little hug goodbye. It was when we touched ever so slightly that our destiny was set in stone.

How can I pass somebody everyday and feel nothing, but the minute they lay their hand on my shoulder, my life changes? My feelings about them change and my life takes a new course. In that one second, I am intertwined in their life until destiny releases us from its grip. 

I bring all of this up because I read something, "All things random have an order." All these one-offs seemed so random to me, but now I see there is a pattern. 

Will to Live

Today I almost had a car wreck. I had just turned left and this woman decides to pull out of her parking space right into my lane. Luckily, I had another lane to pull in to or I would have been toast. I'm not sure she was looking at all because she came at me full force, she didn't even stop as I was pulling into the other lane. 

It's a strange sensation - evoking your will to live. I didn't even know mine was active. I thought my will to live might be damaged in some way because halfway through any action movie, I give up. Literally, I tire of watching them and I wonder why the hero just doesn't fall off the 100th building instead of leaping to the other side. Because once he gets there, there's going to be a a mob of gun-toting enemies coming at him. He knows this and he still wants to live. He actually thinks probability is on his side. It's not. Dumb luck is, but really the numbers are not in his favor.

Here's my thinking: if 400 ninjas came at me, arms flying, legs kicking, I'd surrender. If I managed to survive the ninjas and then a 400 foot tidal wave was headed my way, I'd stand there and let it wash me away. And if after surviving the tidal wave, I was hanging on the edge of a ledge with a helicopter barreling down at me, I'd let go. At some point, you'd have to say, "Screw it. Today I am meant to die."

I'm thinking I might not know myself as well as I thought I did. I mean I did swerve out of this lady's way today without even thinking about it. Perhaps my will to live is still intact, but I shouldn't test it by becoming an action hero any time soon.

Hopelessly Devoted

I had another photo session with the cutest little singer. She models, she sings, she dances and she want to be everything in the world when she grows up. The entire session she sang Hopelessly Devoted to You. Now I'm stuck with that song in my head; and when I sing it, it doesn't sound good at all!

I feel lucky that all these multi-talented people have come into my life and they allow me to capture them doing what they love to do. Although they make me feel like I should be doing much, much more!

Game Theory

In college I had a really great game theory class. It was run by grad students who were using us as lab rats. One of the things I learned about myself is that I will fight vehemently to win every battle, even if it means losing the war. I was an anomaly in the class. Everybody else wanted to win the war; I wanted to win the battles. Perhaps it ties into my lack of patience or my need for immediate gratification. It's hard to say really, but the grad students kept looking at me funny for continuing with my behavior. Surely, they hypothesized, if you know you will lose the big game, you will change your behavior. Surely not if you are me! That's what I loved about economics, you base whole theories on the way people behave and then people don't behave that way.

I'm remembering all this now because I'm wondering if I'm heading down that path now. It seems that when push comes to shove, I still want to win the battles, the war be damned!

Mad Cow Disease

No, I don't have it. But apparently the FDA thinks I could. It's been about 20 years since I spent a year in England and I can't donate blood. Today I found out that I was a platelet match for a terminally ill patient, and I can't donate because I spent a year in England in 1988. It makes me sad.

A Little Crazy

Lately I've been feeling that everybody is a little crazy. And that when you are looking for a relationship, you are just looking for somebody whose craziness either matches or compliments yours.

My Dream House

I've always dreamed of owning my own single-family home. It has a big front porch to watch the world go by. It has a screened in porch on the side or in the back because I hate mosquitoes. It has more than one bathroom just in case. It has a basement in which to store all my seemingly endless piles of crap. It has a yard with grass to mow. It has a kitchen that two people can be in at one time. It has stairs for the cats to run up and down. It might even have a dog. I'm deciding if I want to have a room large enough for a photo studio. 

A couple years ago, it was all I wanted, but the housing market was insane then. I couldn't afford or even imagine paying $800,000 for a 2 bedroom shack. The only houses I could afford were falling down on themselves and were being sold for the value of the land. So I gave up looking.

For now, I keep that dream on the back burner. I'm waiting until I find somebody who wants to buy a house with me or until my dream house just falls out of the sky. I'm not sure which will happen first as things are actually falling out of the sky at me — why not a house?

Dialing the Devil

You know when your ass dials the devil at 7 am, your day isn't going to go well. For some reason, when I put my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, my ass is able to make numerous calls. Numerous! My butt cheeks are able to unlock the phone and actually dial numbers and hit send. And when nobody answers, it dials another number and hits send. It's amazing to me. It's as if my ass is lonely and really needs somebody to talk to.

This morning I'm up at 6 am, and it's my day off! I'm renting out my studio, and like the insane nice person I am, I say 7 am is fine. Of course, I arrive at 6:30 am, phone in back pocket and start painting some chairs. During that time, my phone dials several people including the number 666. At 7:30 when the person renting the studio finally calls, I notice the strange sent call to 666. Well, long story short, several phone calls and three hours later, dude never shows up. I'm sure my ass was trying to tell me something.

Shake it Up

Today I have the urge to shake somebody until they change. I'm so frustrated that I have to wait for others to come to their senses in their own time. I just want to yell and scream and force them to see the craziness of their ways.

Then I laugh at my presumptuous self. In all reality, that person is probably thinking the exact same thing about me right now. As open minded as I like to think I am, I'm sure I live in my own little world. And I know for certain that I can be quite stubborn. 

I hope we can meet in the middle somewhere and cut through all the crap that surrounds both of us. 

End of the Rainbow

Today, on my way home from work, I saw a rainbow. What was so unusual was that it didn't rain today. And there was this beautiful rainbow. I like to believe in signs and omens, so I was sure there was a pot of gold waiting for me somewhere (or some pissed off leprechaun - my luck can swing either way).

When I get home, I discovered that my bank gave me $100 for some kind of incentive. It's no pot of gold, but it's a good start!

Granny Panties

One summer night, I'm out enjoying a ride with a friend of mine. On this ride I am enjoying being a passenger because for once he offers to drive (his car is meant to be admired from far away in a temperature-controlled garage, while mine is meant to be used as some sort of hauling tank-like vehicle). I take him the long way home through the nice neighborhoods. I just love looking at houses. 

We are meandering along when he says, "Is that old lady in her underwear?" That old lady was indeed in her underwear! How could I have missed it? There she was, 70 years old, smoking a cigarette and walking her dog wearing nothing but pink slippers and a t-shirt tucked into granny panties. She looked just like she belonged out there. (It's all in the way you carry yourself, you know.) Her neighbors must love her. It was quite dark out there. I'm not sure if it's something she does during the day. Or maybe it's like her pajamas and she just thought she'd take the dog out for a quick walk. Now mind you, she was on the sidewalk quite a ways from the nearest house, so she was definitely walking the dog in that outfit.

I couldn't stop laughing. To be honest, I still can't. The image is burned into my brain and it just makes me laugh out loud whenever I think about it. 

What did I learn from this event? I hope somebody warns me before I go out walking the dog in my underwear; or barring that, I hope if I do go out in my underwear, I have the confidence to make it work for me.

The Remnant

Some people come and go so quickly that you hardly remember they were there. They pass through your heart like a ghost leaving only a remnant of a feeling behind. If you didn’t have photographs of them, you wouldn’t even remember what they looked like. But for some reason these people haunt you.

They come into your life, open up your heart and then as quickly as they came, they leave. You have things left unsaid, feelings left unexplored, and so many things left to do with them. You thought there was a world of possibility opening up, but instead there was a part of the world that was being completely shut off to you. It wouldn't be so bad if you never knew that world existed, but now you do. 

All you have to remind you that anything happened at all is this remnant of a feeling. It’s tiny, not enough to hold on to, but too special to let go. You keep it tucked away in a safe place that nobody can see, but you always know it’s there. On certain days, your heart calls upon that remnant and remembers what possibility it held; then it remembers that all that possibility is gone. And for awhile your heart feels all the feelings for this person over and over again.

If only you could just throw the remnant away, then maybe the haunting would stop. But you just can’t.

My Love Life

I mentioned that I sometimes read my tarot cards. This is the one I drew for my love life, and not just once. It's self-explanatory really.

Personal Space and the Wii Fit

Anybody out there have Wii Fit? Do you jog on Wii Island? Now tell me if I’m crazy, but don’t those other Miis jog just a little too close sometimes?

I know I have personal space issues. In real life, I like to have a three-foot radius of free space around me at all times. And I was sure this wouldn’t also apply in a virtual world, but I was wrong. I think that is because my Mii a virtual representation of my outer essence. It’s really me! And as me, it has the same personal space requirements.

I am forever getting pissed off at the other Miis who are jogging in my personal space. And sometimes those arrogant Miis are right on top of me. They know I can’t move sideways. The only control I have is to move forward. I can jog faster, but they keep right up. And most annoyingly, they turn their little Mii head and look at me as they enter into my personal space. They are taunting me. They know I am powerless against their invasion. And their cocky little selves know that I can’t punch them. Ah, if I could only punch them! And therein lies the solution — combine jogging with boxing. This way, I could nail one of those rude, little joggers when they got too close. Nintendo could market this as Wii Fit for People with Personality Disorders. I’d buy it.

Falling from the Sky - Part 2

To catch you up from part 1: the heavens are throwing things at me. I don't know why, they just are. And it's still happening.

I'm out walking the cat (don't ask, she's like a dog without the sunny disposition). The night is humid, but not an ounce of wind. It is practically windless. You can watch the still leaves and study the veins on them if you want. Not a sound can be heard except the crickets.

I'm waiting under a giant oak for my cat to catch up when wham! an acorn comes flying down and hits the car right next to me. OK, no big deal. It's almost fall. Acorn's fall in the (almost) fall. As the cat is not paying attention (go figure), I am still waiting under that oak tree when another acorn falls right next to me. Now I'm getting a little suspicious. It's as if something is up in that tree throwing things down at me. I mean both of those acorns fall within 2 feet of me. And no other trees seem to be dropping acorns. I don't see any other acorns on the ground. I look up, but it's dark. And I'm not that interested in meeting the boogeyman just yet, or, for that matter, the vengeful squirrel that has it out for me. So I just keep walking, the cat can fend for herself.

I'm No Plumber

Last week I decided to remove the old caulk around my tub and replace it with new caulk. The old stuff was moldy and I could use that new mold-free caulk. How hard could that be? 

My bathroom was built in the 1940s. There wasn't a shower. Sometime in the 70s they converted it to a shower. They did it outside of the wall with a box over the plumbing. I decided to re-caulk that as well. That's when it all went so terribly wrong.

I had to unscrew the handle on the faucet. No problem there. Then I tried to unscrew the faucet. Big problem! The screw broke off in the faucet. The screw head falls into the tub. Now the faucet leaks. There are three screws holding that faucet cartridge to the plumbing. I broke one screw off. Oh, and then I broke the second screw off. Then, I stripped the head of the third screw. So far, my luck's holding out. My bad luck, that is.

I look on the internet for any kind of help whatsoever. I've never broken a screw head off before. I'm really not that strong; the heads were rusted. Why don't we use rust-proof screws in the bathroom? I learn that I have to drill out the screws. Before I do that I have to find a replacement cartridge because I'm bound to destroy the old one trying to get the screws out. Well, Bradley stopped making residential faucets. Probably the same year my condo community bought all the faucets for the conversion. I finally find one place online that sells the replacement cartridge (I am grateful for the internet). I have to wait a week for the part to arrive, which wouldn't be so bad except I have one bathroom. I have to figure out a way to shower without making a big mess. I temporarily put all the fixtures back and turned the water on with the screw driver. Success! Water all over the ceiling. But it's running, I just need to tighten a few things. I turn on and off the water with the screwdriver for a week and manage to keep myself clean.

The new cartridge arrives in the mail and now it's time to drill out the screws. Hmm... I've never done that before. It's worrisome, but I'm game. In the photo above, I am one screw away from finishing the job. (And one screw away from going insane!) That mess in the tub is from the metal and plastic shavings. I did indeed destroy the cartridge. I had to make a special trip to the Home Depot for vice grips - my first pair. (This is my fourth trip for repair items for that tub.) I needed them to try and grab the remnants of the screws. Woohoo! It works on two of them. I can grab the ends and unscrew them. Boo! The third screw won't turn at all. I have to drill that completely out. I'm terrified of ruining the threads of the hole. That's copper plumbing, I don't want to have to redo that! And I think you've already figured out that I'm not calling a plumber unless something explodes. I manage to get most of the screw out. It takes me an hour. I break a few drill bits, I get one cut on my finger, and my hands are calloused from trying to operate those vice grips. As I said, I'm no plumber.

My new cartridge fits and actually screws in tightly. Happy dance!!! It doesn't leak. Another happy dance!!! After two days I can shower again, and I don't need to use any hand tools. I just pull on the water like people who know better than to mess around with their plumbing do. All that for new caulking around my tub — a tub that needs replacing since I've long since ruined that as well. 

I'm no plumber, but I am a 1940s condo owner.

Sounds of the Nursing Home

When I went to visit my Granny in the nursing home, she was asleep. Rather than wake her, I sat listening to the sounds of the old.

There’s NASCAR racing coming from the room to my left. It’s really loud, so even if I try to tune it out, I can’t. There’s a lounge singer in the recreation room below my Gran’s room. I can barely hear him over the TV. I remember passing that room when I entered the building. The audience consisted entirely of the wheelchair bound. Apparently if you can walk, you walk right out of the rec room when the lounge singer is singing. I listen harder and I hear him singing “Stand By Me” to his wheelchair audience. Good choice.

Beep.

Then there’s the beep that you hear every minute. It reminds you that somebody is still alive. I sit there thinking, is that beep annoying or is it somehow comforting? I mean if that beep wasn’t there, wouldn’t somebody have just passed away? That’s the beep of life — the life-affirming beep. It means you’ve made it through another minute. And life in a nursing home is lived not day-by-day but minute-by-minute.

Beep.

I watch my Gran sleeping. She’s 88, soon to be 89. She looks so much different here in the home. She’s thinner than I’ve ever seen her. I’m sitting in the chair by her feet. She has the longest toenails I have ever seen. They look too hard to cut. Is that why nobody cuts them? They say toenails keep growing after you die. Nobody will cut them then, that’s for sure. I’m sure I’ve never seen my Gran’s bare feet. She wears slippers even in the summer. Her feet are always cold, just like mine. I wear socks to bed.

Beep.

That guy is still alive. Comforting, I suppose. I don't even know who that guy is, but I'm glad to hear the beep that confirms he's still alive. I listen to the commentators talk about cars riding around in circles. I’ve never been a fan of NASCAR, now I’m wondering why I can’t see the TV. Would I enjoy NASCAR more if it was the only thing to watch in a nursing home?

Beep.

Minutes are passing by and I’m wondering how long my Gran sleeps in the afternoon. I send my Mom a text message. She texts back, “Wake her up.” That seems cruel. Who knows how much sleep she actually gets and she looks so peaceful. So I sit back and let her sleep some more. She moves a little. Her head falls off the pillow. She moves her teeth in her mouth. All of her upper teeth move. That’s right, I remember, she has dentures. The first time I discovered that, it freaked me out. Now, it’s just Gran.

Beep.

I do notice that she’s still breathing. Phew. She has no machines hooked up to her. She’s in the home because she’s not strong enough to get around on her own. She’s lost muscle in her legs. They are like toothpicks. We spend so much time wishing to be thin, but not that thin – nobody wants to be so thin that you can’t support your own weight, especially when you weigh less than 100 pounds. Way too thin.

Beep.

It was my Gran who said to my Mom. “It’s amazing how big Sandy’s gotten.” That’s me and I was right there in the room. She repeated that three or four times. That was the last time I saw her in her own home. I decided to go on a diet that day. I used to be stick thin when I was younger. “Eats like a bird” is what everybody said about me. I lost 15 pounds since that day, but looking at her so thin made it seem so unimportant now.

Beep.

I watch the cars go by out the window. It’s a beautiful August day. Sun is shining. It’s 80 and no humidity, rare for this area. I drove over 1.5 hours to get here. My mom is on vacation and somebody needed to visit Gran. She freaks out if nobody comes to see her. And the ironic part is she probably won't even remember that I came. I look at the clock. I wonder how long I’m going to be here. How long do old people nap for? I have another 1.5-hour drive and I’m getting thirsty.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The machine is going crazy. I am nervous. The comforting sound of the beep has now turned to something resembling chaos. Is that guy dying? I expect to hear nurses rushing to his room, but there are no new sounds, just that constant beep, beep, beep and the sound of cars racing around a track. I would think that when a life expires there’s some big rush, people running around trying to save it. But maybe that beep doesn’t mean what I think it means. Maybe it was a false comfort. Maybe it’s just a beep to give visitors something to focus on, instead of what is really happening in here.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Is anybody going to do something about that beeping? Is somebody dying? Why am I the only one who hears that crazy beeping? Maybe the TV is too loud. Maybe the lounge singer is more captivating than I thought. Maybe nobody cares. Turns out that I don’t care. I no longer hear that beeping and I’m just sitting there watching my Gran sleeping, glad that she’s still alive and I am able to spend some time with her.

Beep.

Falling from the Sky - Literally

So, I read tarot cards occasionally. I had the Ace of Swords in my final outcome and I read it as fortune falling from the sky in my near future. I thought it meant good luck figuratively falling from above. When in fact, it meant bad fortune literally being thrown at me by the heavens.

Here's the luck that came my way.

Rock. I'm on an empty highway at 7am Labor Day morning. Me and one other car. I'm a good 6 car lengths behind listening to the radio when wham! a rock hits my windshield - right in my line of sight. Fantastic. Nothing like a ding in the windshield to start off your Labor Day celebrations.

Squirrel. Two days later I'm driving home from work when wham! a gray furball falls from the sky right in front of my left tire. I swerve to miss the fallen squirrel. (I'm amazed those things don't die from such a fall.) I couldn't stop laughing. I should have felt some compassion for the fallen squirrel, but it just seemed so improbable that it was unbelievably funny. How often do animals come falling out of the sky at you? For me, not that often.

It was just then that I realized what my tarot card was saying to me. It was saying, "Get ready, the universe is going to start throwing actual things at you." So I began to wonder if the universe was done chucking these things at me. They say things happen in threes. I don't know if the universe really does things in threes, but what else could possibly fall from the sky and hit me? I know I am tempting fate by asking that question, but really, what else can just fall out of the heavens like that? I could try to read my cards again, but apparently I suck at interpreting them.

I wish I knew when to take things figuratively and when to take them literally, then I wouldn't get so excited about all the wrong things. And, most importantly, I would know when to look up.