A Smattering of Musings

It's been a long while since I last posted.  Yes, I am guilty of getting caught up in living.  I also noticed that I'm sick of looking at a dark blog.  While some of the things I post about are serious or dark, it makes sense to have a dark color draped over the words to set a mood.

Well, I'm sick of dark moods.  While I have struggled with 2010 thus far, I am ready to take the boxing gloves off.  I'm punch drunk and ready for peacefulness to ensue.  Fighting an invisible foe is exhausting.   So, I am dedicating myself to finding the lighter side of life and doing some much needed reflection. 

Life is different and change is inevitable.  All I know is that I have been preparing for change long before I was conscious of it.  As they say, the only constant in life is "Death, Taxes and Change."  Amen.

So, look for lighter posts in the future.  To coin Maya Angelou's title; "My arms are too short to box with God."

Goodnight Mrs. Callabash, wherever you are.

More Musings Later-

Into the Good Night

It seems that 2010 is holding the one constant firmly in it's grip that most people hate; change.  While I find myself in new surroundings, situations and a bevy of other predictaments that I am still discovering along the way, I am finding that I am not unique to this swirl of dreaded change. 

I was saddened to learn that a local talent, Bianca Paige, The Pantomime Rage passed away on June 4, 2010.  Bianca Paige is the alter ego of Mark Middleton who has wowed audiences in the Nashville, TN area.  Not only was Mark a drag performer, he was a gifted actor.  He gracefully vascilated between high-energy, fun shows to needing only a spotlight and a microphone. 

He performed all over the country and even performed in New York City with an acting troupe as well as auditioning for RuPaul's Drag Race on LogoTV.  While he was a fantastic performer, he clearly "legitimized" his acting chops when he performed, Torch Song Trilogy on the theater stage.  His new audience unfamiliar with his Bianca Paige persona became bowled over with his apparent, raw talent.  To have a drag performer favorably splashed across The Tennessean is no easy feat considering the fact that we are firmly in the Bible Belt.


Bianca Paige - Torch Song Trilogy

Bianca Paige | MySpace Video


Mark Middleton broke the rules and made a few of his own.  The point in a drag show is to lose the perception of reality.  In order to accomplish that, a drag performer goes to great lengths to produce the image of a woman.  In one of Mark's shows, he performed a poignant song in which he slowly removed the veil of female sexuality.   First the false eyelashes, the padding under the dress and then the shoes.  The final unveiling would be to remove his wig until he was standing alone, in a spotlight dressed only in jean shorts.  The look he gave the audience at the end was unforgettable and moved me to tears.  While most people put on their face that they want others to see, Mark Middleton had the courage to remove his.

Goodnight, Bianca.

The Skank Scale

Okay, once again, I've put on my "big girl" panties and ready to move on to other subjects besides affairs of the heart. 

I would like to explore what I term, "The Skank Factor."  You've surely heard the term, haven't you?  Such as, That girl/boy is so skanky!  But what truly constitutes someone being labled "A Skank?"  I didn't invent the word, but I do like to consider myself somewhat an officianado of the term.  How do I know this?  I find myself commenting on people who appear to be, well...Skank-ish.  To me, skank is someone that appears to be unkempt in their appearance, showing too much skin and oblivious to what good taste is all about. 


Let's review some folks who I consider to be skanky, shall we?

Dancing with the Stars
The professional dancer, Edita (sp?) appears to be skanky to me.  If I were to register her skank factor on the trusty Skank Scale, she would rate a 9.  That's getting up there.  I cringe each time I see her dancing as her skankiness is so profound to me.  I'm not the authority of skank, I simply calls'em likes I sees'em.

The Neandrathal man aka, Tony, another professional dancer on this show.  His eyebrows are so prominent, it makes his eyes appear as if they are sunk into his head.  His skank factor is about a 3.  Not bad and nothing a little weed whacking can't correct.

The Bachelor
Jake - Mercy, what can we say here?  I nearly tossed my cookies when I saw him dancing in his underwear on Dancing with the Stars.  Let me elaborate on his skankiness.  He is extremely well groomed and doesn't qualify for skank based on that criteria.  His qualifying event is that he is showing too much skin and oblivious to what good taste entails.  That and he cries at the drop of a hat.  Thus, he is a double-decker:  A Skanky-Cry Baby.  He rates 15 on the 1 through 10 scale. 

Actors (Men)
Men that refuse to shave daily posess a bit of skankiness in my book.  You know the look, the 5 o'clock shadow, the stubble, the look that they haven't had a shower in a week.  Pure unadulterated SKANK.

Some of the worst offenders:  Brad Pitt, George Clooney and Alec Baldwin.  The funny thing is, when they make a movie as a romantic lead, they shed their skankiness as a snake sheds it's skin.  Therefore, I rate them as Skank on a sliding scale.  Alec Baldwin rates differently:  I would rate him a Belly Buster-Crappy Daddy-Skank master.  He qualifies on all levels.

Women
Some women qualify on different levels.  For example, Pamela Anderson; she is well-groomed, but I think she presents the wrong idea about herself.  Her animal rights contributions are often overlooked because of this.  Her skankiness is about a 2.  Button up your blouse, Pamela and show the world your humanitarian efforts.

Me:  While I am well groomed, I consider myself to be somewhat skanky.  Why?  I need to shave my legs.  I'm glad I'm not on Dancing with the Stars.  Between my hairy legs and Neandrathal Man's eyebrows, we would tip the Skanky scale at a Follicle Phenomenon Skank Twins. 

More Musings Later-

The Power of an Internet Connection

The old adage, "Breaking up is Hard to Do," has given new meaning in the last several weeks to me.  While I feel myself getting stronger little by little each day, I also find that licking those wounds is an important part of the process of moving on. 

I hadn't heard from a friend of mine in quite some time and decided to send an email giving the news of my breakup.  The next day, lo and behold, she responds and states that she is in the same predictament.  So, amid packing, boxes and broken dreams, she emailed me the sorrow she was going through and I knew all too well what she was feeling.  Somehow, seeing an email from me stating my bad news to her allowed her to share her bad news with me.  And, so it goes...we've been emailing each other with renewed commitment to stay in touch. 

Distance is a funny thing.  My friend lives a fair distance away from me, yet the miles don't seem so numerous as we communicate via email.  Then again, when I was hanging on to a relationship that was dead, that distance between me and my ex seemed to be far and wide, despite our close proximity.

It made me think of an old Ray Steven's tune that no one should have to relate to; "Isn't it lonely together?"

More Musings Later-

When You've Done All You Can Do...STAND.

That's a bit of advice based on a Biblical scripture that my mother used to tell my sister and I when we were growing up.  And, I'm finding that I'm doing alot of standing right now. 

Change is never easy and having to leave the familiar for the unfamiliar is intimidating to say the least.  I'm finding out alot about myself these days too.  At the very time in my life that I am feeling the most pain I've ever experienced, I'm also experiencing gratefulness at the same time.  Parting with the one I love has left me with a gaping hole in the middle of my soul.  Yet, I'm grateful that I got to experience what being head over heels in love was like to begin with.  Such a dichotomy of emotions, yet it's how I feel.

While it grieves me to realize that separating is best, I've learned that sometimes a lover makes a better friend.  And, recognizing that fact and doing something about it is the part that is difficult.  As I drove away from that situation, the wails of grief that escaped from my lips sounded completely foreign; as if an animal was suffering caught between living and dying.  My mood bounces from feeling okay to despair without forewarning. 

They say that time heals all wounds.  I guess that it will, but I won't soon forget this pain.  There's one thing I know for sure:  I've done all I can do.

And, I'm standing.

More Musings Later-

Thou Shalt NOT!!!!

I heard that beginner phrase alot when I was growing up in southeast Texas.  I mean ALOT. 

Yes, I grew up in the stereotypical Bible-thumping south frought with sinners, humid weather and tele-evangelist personalities.  As a result, I learned some lessons very early in life while others who grew up in a more urban existence most likely struggle with determining who is a geniune spirit and those who are not. 

I was one of those teenagers who for the most part, really didn't rebel against being grounded, my parents, not being able to do things at a certain age etc.  My big resentment was growing up in a small town with seemingly judgemental neighbors.  As a rebel with a cause, my appearance became associated with the look of someone who was just a bit rough around the edges.  And, this town hadn't seen much of that since Janis Joplin left.  Make no mistake, I'm not comparing myself to Janis, however, the chip we had on our shoulders were amazingly similar.

As I watched tv the other evening, it caused me to think about my self-inflicted war with my old neighborhood.  The harsh judgements and assuming guilt instead of innocense.  The conversation that sparked this reflection jolted me into the past some 30 years ago.

 "In Leviticus it says: 'If man lies with mankind as he would lie with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination. They shall surely be put to death and their blood shall be upon them.'

Dear God, if I heard that once I heard it a million times.  On school trips which included overnight stays, extracirricular activities and so on.  After spouting the "truth" my visible response is pretty much the same today as it was then.  Pure puzzlement. 

I offer scripture to prove MY point:

 Some religious liberals believe that David and Jonathan had a consensual homosexual relationship - in many ways, a prototype of many of today's gay partnerships. 7 Some important verses which describe their relationship are: 1 Samuel 18:1


"...Jonathan became one in spirit with David and he loved him as himself." (NIV)

"...the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul" (KJV)

Most translations use the term "soul" rather than "spirit" to describe the bond. They speak of an "immediate bond of love", their souls being "in unison," their souls being "knit" etc. Genesis 2:7, as written in the original Hebrew, describes how God blew the spirit into the body of Adam that God had formed from earth, so that Adam became a living soul. This means that "soul", in the ancient Israelite times, represents a combination of body and spirit. Thus the two men appear to have loved each other both physically and emotionally." http://www.religioustolerance.org/hom_bmar.htm

When you love someone completely and commit to be their spouse in good times and bad; that sounds like a union blessed, not a sin.  But, that's just me.  Oh, got one more scripture for you:

For why should my freedom be judged by another's conscience?"


--- 1 Corinthians 10:29

More Musings Later-

Okay, I've put my "Big Girl Panties" on

That's code for I'm going to try to push forward and behave like an adult.  Although, grief happens at any age and for a variety of reasons.  Moving on.

"The Crying Weenie Player", Jake

Did anyone watch "The Bachelor" last night?  Every year, I swear I won't watch it because it galls me so much and I break it every time.  This year, almost made it.  We were at a friend's house last night and she wanted to see the final show and we all needed to see who Derek Hough would be dancing with this season, am I right, Ladies????

Well, it didn't take long to learn what had transpired.  There's this really handsome pilot named Jake that is 31 years old and still a bachelor.  It was down to 2 girls he was choosing between.  I say "girl" on purpose because they acted as if they had just gotten out of high school.  Their chirpy little voices were Valley Girl-ish and they smiled constantly.  That bugs me. 

"Tin Foil"

One girl's name was Tinsley.  Strange name, and yes, I should talk.  I just refer to her as "Tinfoil".  She was the more mature girl of the two.  Jake liked this girl but told her TO HER FACE, "I'm just not physically attracted to you as I am the other bimbo."  Really?  seems to me that you were knocking the boots the entire season with this one and you were enjoying it.  NOW you decide you're just not that into her?  Okay, I see why you've been a bachelor for so long.  You're a weenie or a player.  You get what you want and then cry about it afterwards. 

"Vicks Vapor Rub"

Then his wife to be is named Viseral, Vision, no, wait...Vicks Vapor Rub, uh...I can't remember.  Blond hair, Valley girl, weird voice, immature as Jake, doesn't get along with anyone.  She is a pitiful one.  Nobody likes her (code for "I'm a bee-otch"), she NEEDS Jake (code for: she has issues and lots of em if she needs a player that crys about it) and she is in love with him.  If I hear that one more time from these girls I will smack them into next week.  They are not in love, but IN LUST.  All they have been doing is humping this guy.  That's it. 

So there ya have it.  Tin Foil lost and Vicks Vapor Rub won.  And, I still don't know which star Derek Hough is dancing with. 

More Musings Later-

Picking up the Pieces

Anyone that has lost a pet knows what I am going through.  I thought I was through the worst of it and like the sea ebbs, so are my emotions.  My partner and I have been giving each other alot of hugs and trying to show more attention to our other animals (cats) so that they can get on with some simblance of normalcy.  What is that, by the way?

During the day, I manage to get through the hours but at night, although I am surrounded by my partner and other pets, I find I am still picking up the pieces of a shattered soul.  At night, I've been trying to finish my next book, a collection of essays and short stories and I've accomplished it.  Not easily, as I was picking the brain of a wiser, more experienced scribe for insight along the way.  The feedback was just beyond my grasp each time.  So, it eventually revealed itself that I would need to rely on myself as always.  No amount of opposition from me would change that. 
The comfortableness of "known" are at bay for me right now.  The unknown is never easy and it seems much larger in the still of night.  There's a learning opportunity here if I bother to shuffle the stack of life lessons around and contemplate.  But, I'm weary from my travels and the dust of grief is difficult to shake.

I'm currently asking others to review the book and have even designed my own cover.  Normally, this is a joyous time in a writer's life.  But, with financial times being uncertain and my little soulmate gone;

 now that this book is done, I can still work on my other one in progress.  Perhaps that is what I should do.  But it seems that all I can do is pick up the slivers of my soul from the ground.

More Musings Later-

Are you There?

Traveling a journey with a much loved companion can be so rewarding and by the same token, can be so desparately painful when the road is rocky and uncertain.

I've had the joy and the priviledge to share this wondrous, yet painful path with my best friend.  She began her journey healthy as a horse and in later years became arthritic, anxious and started the painful path of dementia.  There is nothing more painful than looking within the familiar eyes of recognition and finding a hopelessly lost gaze struggling to recall any hint of memory as they return your stare. 

Last night was enough to crush my heart.  I watched my best friend wander from room to room, a perpetual lost look in her eyes and screaming in pain if her body was touched in certain places.  When I tried to comfort her, the sound of my voice fell upon deaf ears and my familiar gaze lost upon failing eyesight.  As she paced and paced, I knew her quality of life was as diminshed as her memory. 

The next morning, I called the doctor and made arrangements.  I helped her into the car one last time and the doctor came in with the injection.  As my friend laid down on the examining table, I held her head and kissed her on the side of her face.  I told her how beautiful and loving she was and that I would always love her.  For a rare moment, her big brown eyes looked at me with recognition and understanding and then as I held her, the light that was so brilliant in her eyes, slowly faded into darkness.

Today, February 22, 2010, I put down my beloved beagle, "Baby."  I had her from the time she was 8 weeks old to the ripe age of 13 years and 9 months.  If I could wish for one thing in her honor, it would be that people would donate food and supplies to your local Humane Society shelters. 

Rest in Peace, Baby Simpson

May 1, 1996 -  February 22, 2010

The Ugly Truth is Better than a Beautiful Lie

I've said it for years and I stand behind it. Don't get me wrong, it can be hard to take...the ugly truth, that is. But, make no mistake; you know exactly where you stand.

By now, most of you know how badly I hate Corporate America. Guess what? I still do. I've been working for this particular client for a couple of years now I guess and really enjoyed writing and brainstorming for her. She is an intelligent, albeit naive client. She has built a staff of impressive workers with the exception of one. Enter confrontation.

The exception of one was a point of contention from day one. This person bullied and horned their way through my accomplishments and work, claiming it for their own. Sound familiar? Yep, good ole Office Politics at play, even from the consulting side. I won't give too many particulars, but I had enough. I gave my resignation today and the client accepted it.

I enjoyed working for her and believed in what she was trying to accomplish. The thing that is causing a bad taste in my mouth is that when I confronted the client about this person, she denied it and I believed her. I've been through this before, but I believed her. She assured me that I was totally wrong and that she had no such intention. And, I believed her. I believed her.

I think I wanted so badly to believe that there are decent people on the corporate ladder, that I believed her.

I can't believe I let myself believe her. The wounds from when it happened years ago are now fresh and bleeding again.

And, I believed her. Yeah, I'd rather have the Ugly Truth than a Beautiful Lie.

More Musings Later-

Leo and Willies

Last night, my partner and I went out to dinner.  Let me tell you, we NEEDED that dinner out.  Why?  Well, let me set the atmosphere:

We've been scraping for jobs during this crappy-ass economy and finally are starting to get some steady gigs.  We haven't been out in MONTHS.  Literally.  We live AND work together 24/7.  We've been sniping at each other, stressed out, having laptops implode, talking to customer service geeks in China who can barely speak conversational English, replacing a waterheater that was leaking and the list goes on.  I'm willing to bet that we haven't been out in at least a year. 

We decided to go to a restaurant that featured tinkly music, quiet conversation, candlelit tables and a piano player after 8pm.  As we sat and talked, the scope of our conversation changed.  It wasn't about laundry needing to be done, blogging that was behind etc.  We were discussing "dating-esque" topics.  Things that interested each of us, vacations that we took in the past that we loved and why.  It was relaxing.  In fact, it reminded me of when my parents would go to a restaurant in Port Arthur, Texas called, "Leo and Willies". 

My sister and I would be on our best behavior and we always ordered the same thing.  Some sort of Chicken Cutlet that was so unique and delicious, that if I tasted it today, I would know it in a second who made it.  My parents would even have a cocktail and they weren't much for drinking in those days.  The lighting was dim, there was tinkly music, people dressed in their finest suits and dresses and everyone talking in quiet conversation as forks, knives and spoons clattered quietly against the plates.  As I looked around, Chianti was purchased and poured freely from it's wicker holder and exotic cigar smoke filled the air.  It was my first fancy restaurant memory.

Once dinner was over, I always excused myself from the table and walked over to where the cashier waited for payments and gave out mints for the ride home.  She sat behind a glass case that was filled with various cigar boxes  with cigars on display.  I would stare at those cigars and wondered about the men who smoked them.  We lived so frugally in those days that I couldn't imagine buying a cigar for after dinner.  I thought Leo and Willies was the most incredible place I had ever been to.  Somehow, problems lifted temporarily, people talked softly and laughter was so much easier within the confines of candlelight and tinkly music.

That's when I made myself a promise:  When things are too much, if I can possibly swing it, I visit Leo and Willie type restaurants.  When I am celebrating an event such as a birthday, exotic vacation etc, I purchase a cigar and smoke it.  They were never meant to be packaged inside a box under glass without the hope of being opened. 

I love nights like last night.

More Musings Later-

So Much BS, So Little Time-

Sorry for the lateness of my official "First Post of 2010."  It's not that I didn't WANT to blog, I've been up to my backend in work, suddenly.  That's a good thing.  I'm barely keeping up, but need to.  So, I'm happy about that.  :D

Now, a few things have transpired since my last blog and I have been mocking my own television with frustration as I finish work for clients.  Here are some of them:

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THE END OF REGULAR NFL SEASON - TENNESSEE TITANS

They have one more game to play and "can't think of a reason to really play hard since they were eliminated from the playoffs..."

My Suggestion:  How about playing for those 6-7 zeros that are in FRONT of the decimal point that you are paid each year?  Don't even get me started. 

Other Thoughts:  Jeff Fisher's hair is too dark.  Quit dying it Black shoe polish.  Try a medium brown, you know, like the kind you have always had except for the last 6 games.

Please retire Kerry Collins.  He looks tired and he's not getting the hint that he is a BACKUP quarterback at best, not a starter. 

Can someone interpret for Chris Johnson when he is interviewed?  He is a spectacular athlete, I just can't understand what he is saying.  It looks like it might be pretty good since he shakes his dread locks at the end of each statement and laughs. 

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Lane Kiffin Quits UT and goes to USC - Knoxville Riots

First of all, why would anyone riot?  The guy is an idiot and not too tightly wrapped.  So what?  He went to USC where there is better weather and better money for sure.  And, I'm willing to bet there aren't any criminals on the team either. When the crowd (after rioting and burning hate messages into the grass etc. for Lane) settled down. 

The local news interviewed a few people about his sudden departure.
One twenty-something male said, "He's an A**hole!  If you ain't a UT Volunteer, You ain't NUTHIN!"

My Thoughts: "Dear boy, believe it or not, there is a great big ole world outside of those goalposts in Knoxville, TN.  I promise.  You should venture out sometime.  Really."  NOW:  He's an A**hole for leaving Tennessee?  Give me a break!  I love where I live and love Tennessee.  But, if I am a younger person and have the opportunity to get a job where I know I will like it and get the perks of : Great weather, GREAT money and a GREAT school.  You're telling me you would turn that down?  I'm sorry, but you're an idiot.  Get over youself.  

Meanwhile, in Nashville, TN, they are voting on an Education bill where children are flunking basic courses.  Breaking news is flooding my email about Lane Kiffin.  PEOPLE:  WHICH IS MORE IMPORTANT, LANE KIFFIN OR EDUCATION IN THE STATE OF TENNESSEE?  Wait, don't answer that.  Sheesh.
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Here's to: THE BACHELOR, HIGH SCHOOL REUNION, AMERICAN IDOL and all the other reality shows. 

My Thoughts:  I DON'T CARE.  ENOUGH ALREADY.

Happy 2010 Everyone.

More Musings Later-

What were YOU doing on Christmas circa 1998?

The other day, a woman who I've known virtually all of my life sat down with me over a cup of tea and reminisced about Christmases Past.  We each talked about how when we were kids, we had great family Christmas memories, complete with playing touch football in the front yard before dinner.  Back in the day, (and locale of where we each grew up) the Dallas Cowboys were God's football team.  Seriously.  No, really.  SERIOUSLY. 

So, in the spirit of Ed "Too Tall" Jones, Roger "the Dodger" Staubach, and countless other 1970's football heroes, we romped in the yard with our fathers, uncles and cousins.  Yes, those were the good ole days to be sure and of course, our beloved grandparents would visit each sibling's family and share in the gift giving, left over dinner and so on.  The belts were loosened around the girth of the men and little girls learned from their mothers and aunts that cleaning up was "our" duty.  Well, some of us learned, anyway. (That's code for NOT ME).

Then, as time passed and the memories and innocense of Christmas became more difficult to conjure, we each grew into our adulthood.  As I took another sip of tea, my friend confided in me and told me that 1998 was the year that were a multitude of "firsts" for her.  "Hmmm?" I asked in mid-sip.  She leaned forward as if ashamed and admitted to me that she was gay.  She had hidden it for years and even was in denial about it.  Then, as they say in Texas, "Things happened and it came a gully wash."  Which meant, that crap happens. 

She was so profoundly sad about learning that she was gay that she didn't think she would ever be accepted into heaven.  She even considered the fact that if God wanted men and men, women and women to be together, surely he would have concocted a way for procreation as homosexuals.   I mean, if homosexuality was "right" or "correct" in God's eyes, then this would be the divine way.  Ya know, Adam and Eve not Steve.  We talked at length, as I never knew that this secret was burning a hole through her soul.  You never know the grief and pain some go through, all without saying a word.  She told me about Christmas 1998 where she cried for hours on end, hating herself and even wanting to "off" herself.  I mean, this wasn't normal. 

When I asked her how she came to grips with it, here's what she said:

"It was Time to Clean Out My Closet.

Isn’t it amazing the things that you accumulate in your life? If you need a reminder, try cleaning out your closet. You know, the one you came out of at “that moment”.

I found myself doing just that a couple of weeks ago. I walked into “that closet” and took a good look. It was very good at keeping my personal things out of sight. It made everything look like it was in order and functioning just fine, thank you very much. I knelt down and opened some old boxes and started going through some of my childhood memorabilia. I had to chuckle to myself, here is the lacey dress with petticoats that I wore when I was about 5 years old. Oh wait, the patent leather shoes….My God, here they are. Did I really wear all that? Oh, yes. Wait, here’s another box of photographs. I’m wearing my ever-present Shirley Temple hairdo, courtesy of my Mom, hair rollers and significant amounts of Dippidy-Doo and Aqua Net. I was the frilliest, most feminine little girl I had ever seen.

Then I looked at myself really closely. I think my eyes said it all. I was different. So different it was absolutely painful, and I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why or how I was different from everyone else. I looked like all the other little girls in elementary school. I looked at another picture and something caught my eye. I was standing in front of my elementary school smiling for the camera, and someone had written on the brick walls, “Queer”. As I saw this phrase scrawled behind my right shoulder, I realized that it had been following me all my life. There it was, always right over my shoulder.

It wasn’t for quite a few years that I turned to a counselor to help me clean out my closet. Together we talked, I cried, felt relief, anger, denial, guilt, and a plethora of other emotions. I had to experience them all to get where I am now. I put the lid back on the boxes and neatly arranged them in my closet. I turned out the light and quietly closed the door and thought to myself, I’m glad I had the courage to clean out my closet."

Need help with cleaning out your closet? Don’t hesitate to contact a counselor, trusted friend or parent. You’ll be glad you did.

By the way, if you haven't figured it out yet, the woman I was talking to was ME.

More Musings Later-

Corporate America and the Asterick

In the past, I have freelanced for quite a few clients who either owned small businesses or were CEO's of Fortune 100 companies.  Here is what they all have in common:  BUZZWORDS. Oh, you know the ones...come on, everyone join in: 

Synergy, Strategy, Strategic, Sales Nurturer, benchmarking, Component, deliverables, facilitate, fasttrack, Let's put our arms around this,  thought leader, mission critical, scorecards, metrics, take it offline, succession planning, weekend retreat, win-win and a million more.

Unfortunately, along with those words come the embedded office politics that kill off the good employees and keep the crappy ones that are devious.  I know that my readers have had at least 1 experience where they were stabbed in the back by a co-worker in order to score points for the boss.  Whether it was to take credit where it wasn't due or just to stab you in the back for the sport of it.  Either way, it stinks.

In fact, when I used to work for a major coporation (wait one moment, I am having a modified convulsion at the mere memory).  I rememmber that we had just gotten a new EVP of HR in corporate.  Now remember, we had literally hundreds and hundreds of HR staff around the country.  A curious mass email was sent to these hundreds and hundreds of HR Staff by error.  I knew it was sent out "by error" and immediately saved it to my hard drive.  Now, most people didn't save it or even were in their email at the time.  Heh-heh, but I was.

*

I reviewed the document that was immediately rescinded by the sender.  It was titled, "HR Succession by Location."  Oh, that's a lovely title and contained more drama than a bad reality show.  I looked for my location and saw the infamous asterik mark next to my boss's name.  I had to agree.  My ex-boss was crappy at her job.  However, his corporate EVP of HR had made no "error in sending this email out."  In fact, I made a call to her admin assistant and asked what the astericks meant.  (Knowing full well it means - "You're canned, get ready to stand in the unemployment line.")

*

She sounded panicked.  "Uh, um...you saw that memo?  Oh, it's nothing...just a memo I was working on for the EVP...it's really nothing...really...(gulp) no really.  You saw it?  uh...ok, don't worry about it, just trash it, ok?"  I could literally hear the sweat spilling from her temples on to her desk.  Corporate America sucks.  Then, I called my boss at home who was taking a mental health day and told her to sit down.  I read her the entire memo and told her about the asterick.  My ex-boss asked what that meant.

"Uh, it means you will be wearing sweats all day, eating Fritos and watching Oprah and Judge Judy on a daily basis." I replied.     My boss woo-hooed loudly to be laid off from her misery.  Me?  I simply called the Director of HR for my region and pleaded with her to lay me off.  She couldn't believe it, but I had enough of the office politics, the buzzwords, the firing of people because they exhausted FMLA, regardless of whether they wee terminally ill or not.  I just had enough.

*

The last thing I said after the asterick fiasco was...UNCLE. 

And so began my writing career.

More Musings Later-

Diabetes SUCKS

Alot of people hate giving themselves injections of insulin.  To me, that's not a big deal, especially since I only take it twice a day, morning and evening. I remember when they put me on 2 different insulins; so much of this one, so much of that one and if my blood sugar is high, then more of that one, not so much of this one.  What a bunch of crap. 

Yes, diabetes has made me extremely grumpy.  Why?, O' let me count the ways.

1.  My doctor at the hospital put me on 40 ml. of 70/30 insulin.  That means they combined 2 insulins together so that it's not such a pain in the ass to take it. 

2.  40 ml is too much insulin.  Know what happens when you take too much insulin?

3.  HYPOGLYCEMIA - I had this as a kid.  You feel like you could eat anything not nailed down, you shake (which I do anyway), break out in a coldsweat and feel crappy and exhausted.

4.  I call the doctor...tell her what is happening.  "Take only 36 ml. of insulin"

5.  My blood sugar goes down to 44.  Like, that's not good.  More shaking, more eating of everything in the house as well as Orange Juice.

6.  Dr says, go down to 32 units.  I say to myself, "screw it, going to 30".  So far so good.  We'll see how it messes with my blood sugar.

Eating a Diabetic diet is a pain in the ass

Morning Routine:
Take my blood sugar.  Write it down in the Blood sugar in the pocket tablet.  Write down what I'm going to eat along with the total carbohydrates for that meal. 

Measure 30 ml of insulin, poke my stomach and then fix the following:

1 cup of Cheerios with artificial sweetner, 2/3 cup of fat free, skim milk, 1/2 banana or 1/2 cup of fruit and 1 piece of whole grain toast with 1 tsp of margerine.  Don't go over 45 grams of carbohydrates.

Who the hell eats a 1/2 a piece of fruit???  That's downright weird and it irks me everytime I do it.

Noon Routine

Take blood sugar.  Write it down in the Blood sugar in the pocket tablet. Write down what I'm going to eat along with the total carbohydrates for that meal.

Fix the following:

1 oz Turkey and Cheese sandwich with wheat bread, 1 tsp of Mayo, Lettuce/Tomato if desired.

10 Tortilla chips

Yogurt or 1/2 piece of fruit

maybe a sugar free pudding  Don't go over 60 carbs.

Evening
Take blood sugar. Write it down in the Blood sugar in the pocket tablet. Write down what I'm going to eat along with the total carbohydrates for that meal.


Fix the following:

Piece of Meat (usually chicken or Hamburger patty)
Vegetable (I usually fix frozen okra with onions stirfried together in 1 tsp of EVOO)
If I add Green Beans, then I count the carbs (????) Green Beans are 5 carbs.
Eat more flippin fruit or yogurt.  If I want a snack I can eat 10 almonds or cashews.  Woo-hoo!

2 hours after, take my blood sugar again, write it down, poke myself in the stomach again with my insulin shot, curse my doctors and my liver and go to bed.  However, I do chuckle sometiems because I remember when my ex-brother-in-law would comment on Momma Judd's medical condition when her liver was messed up and she thought she was going to die.  He simply would say, "Oh, she'll tour again with Wynonna...it will be called, "My Liver is Better Tour" or maybe, "I'm not Quite So Yellow Tour"  I love sarcasm.

This is a weird diet, I'm sorry.  I am getting used to it and I go to "class" early next week.  As John Lennon would say, Most Peculiar, Momma.

More Musings Later-

In Observance of Avoiding the Eternal Dirt Nap

As I mentioned in my last post, diabetes nearly got the best of me.  Thank God, I'm still upright and breathing on a regular basis.  That's always a good sign.  The insulin is a pain in the ass, but it is doing the job, so woo-hoo for insulin.  As I thought about the possibility of dying, I wondered what heaven or hell might be like if I were to take the permanent dirt nap.  So without further adieu, Top 10 signs that I've reached Heaven or Hell, in no particular order.

Top 10 Signs I've Reached Heaven

1.  I would see family and friends that have passed before me and get to spend unlimited time with them.  Ask them questions about how Heaven works and what happened to them.

2.  The setup would be similar to "Defending Your Life," with Albert Brooks and Meryl Streep.  Everyone would stay in fabulous hotels and be able to eat whatever and whenever they wanted without worrying about gaining weight or eating too many carbs or sugar.

3.  A box of ding dongs would be placed on my pillow each night.  

4.  There would be a pub where old friends and family would gather to have a few and watch the TN Titans play football or to play along with Wheel of Fortune.

5.  I would look up Norman MacLean and Ernest Hemingway and ask them about writing.

6.  While defending my life, there would be authority in the court (like Defending your life) that could show me key moments during my life that affected my destiny and why.  I guess I want to know stuff like that.

7.  I would be able to astral travel to friends and family still living and observe them and hopefully, catch their attention. 

8.  One of the first people I would visit would be Alan Solomon.  Then I would walk upon Loi Kroh Road, albeit in a virtual state.

9.  I would be allowed to ask questions and write down the answers from Jesus.

10.  I would love to visit Michael, the Arch Angel and ask questions about Armeggedon.

~~~

Top 10 Reasons I know I'm in Hell

1.  When I'm dying, I am in the same hospital that I just got out of.

2.  The first people I see are the people that have hurt me most in my life.

3.  Once I pass from this life and enter the eternal; I am made to watch Paula Abdul judge on American Idol.

4.  Then I am forced to watch her videos of her "singing" and dancing.

5.  Ty Pennington is yelling at me with his megaphone.

6.  Everyone at the Pub I mentioned before are hateful and mean. 

7.  Instead of watching TN Titan Football and Wheel of Fortune, I am forced to watch Extreme Home Makeover and cry at all the obvious spots.

8.  Laughter isn't allowed here and no one appreciates sarcastic humor.  

9.  "How come?"  isn't allowed here.

10.  A bowl of beets and cottage cheese is left on my pillow each night.  And, every calorie counts.

Did I mention that Paula Abdul would be there???

More Musings Later-