Miscommunication

Like black and white we are

Two souls so joined

Yet stretched as far as east is from west.

Stretched.

And let go.

Warped and distorted.

Nursing my wounds.

Silence is your everyday armour.

Apparently anger is mine.

Or so you say.

How do you “cold shoulder” the heartless?

Here we go again.

I can see it coming

Another night of “what’s wrong”s and perpetual silence

You know perfectly well

You know what it’s doing to me

Too bad I have every intention of  giving up on you

On us

… At least for today.

So I have decided I am going to be a complete cheater pants and steal this whole Thursday Thirteen thing. So dear imaginary readers- tune in every week to learn 13 wonderful things about me!

Thirteen Reasons I Love My Husband

1) On our first date, he danced with me in the rain and sang into my ear. *sigh*

2) He dreams about having kids almost as much as I do

3) He’s almost as dorky as me

4) Our souls our intertwined

5) He makes me fee beautiful when the mirror says otherwise

6) His has freakin dimples!

7) He still holds my hand.

8 ) He’s not a cuddly sleeper either

9) He has an amazing servant heart and gives to people unabashedly

10) We laugh together- all the time!

11) He cooks so I don’t have to

12) His is head-over-heels-crazy-in-love with our dog too!

13) We have literally grown up together in this relationship. He is the only person I want to experience everything with!

 

 

Other Thursday Thirteeners you might be interested in:

8 Minutes

The Informal Matriarch

Defining Beauty

I have beautiful friends.

They are absolutely stunning, physical masterpieces. It’s like being friends with a piece of art- people are literally moved by their appearances. The main comment I got after my wedding (after congrats of course) was, “What an amazing looking wedding party!” And they are. They are my six, dearest, closest friends and I feel like I’m the ugly duckling. Of the three men, one is a firefighter, one is a helicopter pilot and one is an electrician. Yes ladies, these men have CAREERS! Of my girls, one is a nurse, one a dancer and one a hairstylist. Again, people who have jobs, who are successful and who are unfairly gifted in the looks department.

Now of course, because I am so close to them, I get to see past all that glorious physicality and see the ugly bits. I get to see where they struggle, where they feel inadequate. I know that Firefighter has dated the same types of girls over and over again and wonders why it never works out. I know that Electrician has been cheated on by his ex and best friend and that that experience tore up his heart and soul and sabotages every new potential relationship he has. I know that Dancer has struggled to find herself and that Nurse hides behind her appearance and material possessions because she’s afraid she isn’t worth anything.

In fact, it was a letter Nurse wrote to me recently that inspired my thinking today. She wrote that she has given up wearing makeup because she recognizes that she was using it to shield herself from people getting close to her. She allows herself to wear makeup only for special events now. Now this may not sound like much, but it the 11 years I have known this girl, I have almost NEVER seen her without makeup! She even made me late on my wedding day because she insisted our makeup artist redo her eyeliner three times to get it PRECISELY the way she wanted. And yet she’s not a shallow person. She has an amazing heart, is a wonderful friend and I love her dearly. Makeup and possesions have just been a symptom of a deeper problem. She’s been frightened and didn’t feel comfortable enough in her own skin, to allow herself to look like her.

She sent me a picture of her without makeup. To be truthful, I barely recognized my dear, dear friend. I have spent 11 years looking at the mask she wore and I barely knew her without it. But when I looked closely at the picture, I found her. There in her eyes, lay the soul I cherish. In her eyes, lay the laughter and tears and memories we’ve shared. There was my friend, not in her appearance, but in her eyes. Amazing!

Amazing what we hide behind, what we prop up and call beautiful. My friends beauty, while still remains on the outside, shines from within with her warmth and kindness. We hide behind pictures of ourselves, or other people. We hide behind perceptions, guilt, expectations and shame. We call these works of art- beauty. This is not beauty. This is some temporary entertainment for my eyes. If I look closely all I see is imperfection. I see the lines of the canvas, the brush strokes, the mistakes. It becomes a flattened mud of color.

But if I look behind it, into the eyes, I see depth. I see soul, I see passion, I see unexplored potential… I see beauty. 

Twisted Reflections

What happens when you look in the mirror and don’t recognize the person looking back?

 I’ve changed. I’ve changed so much lately I don’t really know who I am. Whole new sets of problems have arisen and some ones that have haunted me for years. It’s not just physical- although I’m sure that that plays a greater role than I’m willing to admit. I don’t know the fat girl in the mirror. She strikes me as familiar, but she doesn’t look like I think I do.

I have this strange mental image of who I am, who I feel like. I’m not that big in my head. I don’t imagine rolls and chubbly bits when I invision myself.  My mental image looks a lot more like I did 3 years ago. I can’t even dress this girl. The clothes I am drawn too are NOT flattering for the body I currently occupy. This whole weight gain thing happened pretty slowly so why on earth does it feel like I didn’t notice? I can’t even say that truthfully. Truthfully I did notice. Truthfully, I have loathed myself for every added pound, I have despised every stretch line that has spidered up my hips. But in a truly self-defeating move, I have dug myself a cozy hole of denial. Nothing like doing nothing to get you nowhere.

So I finally took action. I swallowed my shame and I signed up with a gym A great gym. A gym I really love going to, a gym I haven’t been to in a week. But I have seen some changes in the time I’ve been going. In the month that I’ve attended I’ve felt healthier and even started to drop a few pounds. My Big Fella even bought me a ridiculously expensive pair of Lululemon sweat pants to motivate me. I know- what a sweetie he is. And I really like trying to be healthier with my eating choices, I don’t find it toooo difficult. So why then, do I constantly fear and create my own failure. I’m so scared I won’t succeed at this, like I’ve failed at everything else. I’m so scared it won’t make a difference and I won’t get my life under control. Fear, fear, fear. It controls my everything.

I hate fear. I hate what it does to me. I hate that I do it to myself. I hate that I forcibly hold my own dreams and aspirations hostage. I hate that I’m so mixed up by fear of rejection that I don’t even know how to be myself sometimes. The worst part I think- the fact that I actually LIKE myself. I do. I like who I am. I like my sense of humour and my giant heart. I actually LIKE myself and yet I’m so afraid that other people won’t.

I say the wrong things all the time. I try to be funny even when I know it’s completely innappropriate. I hear myself be too smart or too witty and visibly watch people recoil from me. Even when I do things completely innocently, there’s always someone who takes offense or wishes to think I’m a horrible person. WHY? There’s no common denominator, except for me. Thus I am the cause of my own downfall, thus I don’t want to be myself, thus I don’t recognize myself.

Twisted… I must be.

Send a little love!

I know I don’t have many readers, but if you happen to come across this blog today I challenge you to take the time to send a card to a very sick little girl. Victoria has cancer and with her teacher’s help, she wants to get a card from every state! Please read more about her story at: http://createdbycourtney.blogspot.com/ 

This is open to international folks as well- how awesome for this little girl to receive well wishes from people all over the world! Please I implore you to take two seconds and think of this beautiful child today. This is the card I made for Victoria and you should make one too!

Cards and notes can be sent to:

Victoria Enmon

1205 Red Bud Circle

Orange, TX 77632

U.S.A.

Little Miss- Plumber?

I am not a plumber. I don’t look like a plumber. My pants lay safely NORTH of my crack. I don’t like fecal matter. I don’t have children and thus I do not have to deal with sewage in a hand-to-hand combat style. I make sewage. I flush sewage. I never ever think of it again… until this morning apparently.

Of course this happened the one morning our maintenance man is safely out of town. Of course it happened to me, the one with the all too ready gag reflex. Of course it happened when I innocently did a #1 post-coffee. Of course it wasn’t my OWN sewage that spewed forth. Of course I have to bitch about this.

Ewww eww eww! This is disgusting! Let me set the scene for you- whether you want to picture me on a toilet or not (and if you do- EWWW!). My morning started out pretty normal. I pushed my snooze button three times, couldn’t find a single appropriate/clean thing to wear and my hair was doing that weird flat yet sticky up thing- so it was a morning like any other. I made it to the office early and start perusing the wonder that is Facebook (seriously, this must be what crack is like!). I am flipping through the random updates and photos enjoying the complete anonymity of voyeurism and sipping my yummy coffee.

Fast forward to a half hour later. My yummy coffee is now making is presence known and it’s time for a little jaunt to the ol’ bathroom. I do my business, get up and flush the toilet. I then start to wash my hands, inspecting the bad hair day I have going on. Suddenly, I look over at the toilet and the water is actually going the WRONG way! Dear toilet, perhaps you’ve been misinformed, you take waste away not bring it up!! What’s truly traumatizing is that the waste being brought to my attention is NOT mine!!! Great, someone else’s sewage has decided to pay me a visit. HAPPY MONDAY TO YOU TOO!

So the water doesn’t overflow (my one moment of saving grace) but it does get precariously high. It then slowly starts to sink back down. I’m thinking that I just had a close call, phewf, lucky me. Then my stupid reflexes make me flush the toilet again, LIKE IT WAS GOING TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE!?! By now I think this toilet is angry at me, the water starts surging higher and higher and I back away in fear! But once again it doesn’t overflow. So I close the door behind me and go to my trusty coworker. She sympathizes with me and then suggests I go find a plunger and deal with it cuz our maintenence guy is out of town. She regales with me tales of her previous experiences of plunging and how even the President of our company has wielded the plunger at our craptastic plumbing. She informs me that the plumbing of the two women’s washrooms are actually interlinked and I should probably put an out of order sign on both. All I gather from these stories is that my chances of passing the buck on this are slim to none.

So I venture back to the bathroom, dig out a plunger from the janitorial supplies and try to pych myself up to deal with some other human’s “leftovers”. Ok I can do this. I open the door and stare- well not directly- at my enemy. EWWWWWWW! Ok I have to ignore the urge to dry heave. Vomiting would not help this situation. I reach my deadly plunger into the soppy mess and PLUNGE? Nope. Apparently this is harder than it looks. I do not have the plunging technique down. My plunger ain’t doing NOTHING. Ok one last attempt, push down and pull up. *FWAPP!* The plunger decides to turn itself inside out and spray, yes spray, dirty fecal water at me. Let me say again- EWWW! Luckily the plunger did not have very good aim and missed me by inches. Why am I doing this? They do not pay me enough to get sprayed by sewage. Isn’t this a health hazard?? I wash my hands feverishly and escape the bathroom of horror.

I once again appeal to my trusty coworker, who by now, really does feel bad for me, but my tales of woe only reduce her interest in helping me. She suggests trying to plunge the clean, unaffected bathroom (less change of spray back) since the plumbing is linked. This sounds like a safer idea to me. I once again enter the women’s washroom, this time at least I am in the clean one. I attempt to plunge again, but to no avail. I’m fairly sure this is the crappiest (no pun intended) plunger of all time.

So in a last resort, I dig under the sink and find Draino clog remover. This is one heck of a clog but hey, I’m desperate. I read the label. “Pour one heaping tablespoon of…”- I am pretty sure I used at least a cup. This clog was going to get busted, one way or another.

That was about an hour ago- I’m letting that Draino sit there and I hope to God it does the dirty work for me. My advice?? Flush first, do your business later. You never know what you’re coworker’s left in store for you.

Dear dear friend…

Not much to say today. After a week of being incredibly ill and still going to work, my brain feels fried. I’m finally getting over this hump of a cold, but it drags ya out!

So excited today, even as I write this, two dear friends of mine and Big Fella’s are making the treck to come visit us. HURRAY! I cannot for the life of me figure out how to meet people here in the city, so it’s been Big Fella and I for almost a year. Now we’re starting to inport friends! Exciting!

As you can tell I’m distracted and will have to write more tomorrow. Good night blog land! 

The Pitfalls Of Men…

I’m so glad it’s finally Friday… this week has dragged on and on and I have had it! Today has probably been the worst of the week. I’m still sick, though I feel like I’m on the mend, but this day has brought with it more bonehead moments than I can handle.

Men… oh men. Where do I start? While I certainly don’t intend to bash the ENTIRE gender in this post, I am seriously contemplating bashing all the ones I work with. Please realize that including myself there is TWO, yes TWO women in this office of 35 employees. Now, to add to the exciting recipe of “boneheadedness” they are also engineers. I don’t know why this career field seems to make even the most polite,  chivalrous of men into complete arrogant chaunovists, but it does. Now there are definate pluses to working with men. I used to work with all women and that was not great either- the gossip, the drama, the 95% that SOMEONE would end up in tears. It was exhausting! But a whole office of men, of intelligent, arrogant, ”look how much money I make” men has a whole new set of headaches.

First of all I am not their mother. I will not clean up after them, come baby them or tend to their wounds. I will not wear a short skirt and get them their coffee just because I am a woman. They’re big boys- go do it yourselves! How these men ever got through school- or life for that matter boggles my mind. I cannot count the number of times I get called and told to find something for them. A typical scenario:

*ring ring* 

Me: “Good Afternoon, DarkYetLovely speaking”

Engineer: “You need to order more *fill in your favorite office supply here*. We’re all out and you should really keep these in stock better!”

Me: “I’m pretty sure we have those in stock. Have you looked in the office supply cupboard?”

Engineer” “Yes, twice. And Jimbobs (a coworker) looked too and he can’t find them either!”

Me: “I’ll be right there…”

*I walk to the office supply cupboard, open the CLEARLY LABELED drawer and see we have fourteen of the illusive item in stock*

Engineers: “Ooooohhhh… we didn’t see them in there.’

Me: “Clearly”

This literally happens to me 3 times a week. And every time they first BLAME me for not keeping it in stock, then when I  find half a dozen of them right where they’re supposed to be they give blank, glassy-eyed stares like I pulled some magic trick! Do I LOOK like Cris Angel to you?? Open your EYES!!! *snarls* MEN!!

It’s just the blatant, over-flated egos I am sooooo tired of. For instance, if one of them has an issue, it’s always my fault and they assume that EVERYONE is having this problem if they are. Another pretty example: Today was the day they submit their timesheets to me. Now our office has been experiencing some server problems and some people are having trouble accessing online files. Luckily, it is company policy to NOT keep their timesheets in an online file. So I send out a happy little inter-office memo reminding that I need their timesheets submitted  by 10am. This is the response I get:

*Engineer walks up to my desk and looks at me with disdain*

Engineer: “No one’s going to give you any timesheets today” (As I have 10 already in my hand)

Me : “Oh why’s that?” (When what I want to say is “They will if they want to get paid!”)

Engineer: “Because of the computer problems. No one has access to their online files” (Oh riiiight the files that no one is supposed to be keeping timesheets in, thoooooseeee files)

Me: “I’ll email you a blank one that you can use temporarily until the server is back up”

Engineer: *stunned that I am prepared for this* “Oh..”

Seriously! How do these people survive in the real world? How are they married? It boggles the mind!! I am not even disliked in the office. I get along with everyone fabulously. THIS IS HOW THEY TREAT PEOPLE THEY LIKE! It makes me want to punch bees or something. You are a grown man, if you need help ask for help. GAWD!

K I think that I’m done now. My bitching has officially ceased. Will I still wonder how these “educated” men can be so dense? Absolutely! Will I secretly pity their wives and g/f’s? You betcha. But my urge to shake them by the shoulders and yell “Wake up man!” has subsided… at least for now.

Strange Rumblings

I’m not pregnant.

Not that I’m trying to get pregnant or that I thought I was pregnant, I just want to be a mother so badly. I have this utter ache within the very pit of me, that desires to have a child more than anything else.

I envy mothers. I envy their joy, their connection, their special bond that they have with their child that no one else does. I envy their intuition, their instinct and their knowledge. I want that. No want that isn’t quite strong enough- I desire it, long for it, dream and wish for it.

I know motherhood is not glamourous. Believe me, I have watched my sisters and countless friends experience it. I’ve seen the toll of sleepless nights, of terrible morning sickness, weird pregnancy phenomena (extra nipples anyone?) and the feeling of utter helplessness when they couldn’t stop their baby from crying. I’ve seen the most fashion conscious of women live in sweats and the most selfish of people give up everything for the welfare of their child. But no one I know who has ever given birth, has regretted it for one millisecond. Sure some of them would do things differently, a different method, a different time and for some of them, with a different man. But not one of them would wish to go back and not have their child.

I must be weird. I’m young, definately the left side of 30, so I know it’s not my  biological clock ticking. Why do I want this so much? Am I alone in this? Are they other young married, or not married, women who long for this as I do? I have names picked out (and Big Fella loves them), I know how I want to decorate their nursery, I secretly have a mobile and a baby outfit in my bedside drawer (secret from everyone but my husband). I must be weird…

So what’s stopping me you ask? Fear, plain and simple. Fear that I won’t be able to get pregnant (my mother had major fertility issues and I am a miracle baby). Fear that I won’t be ready, or we can’t afford it, or that my boss won’t let me come back after maternity leave. Fear that I’ll never be able to go back to school, or pay for my Big Fella to get his last few years of schooling. Fear that I’ll be a bad mother, my child will have disabilities or be ill, and fear that my child won’t be liked or will get picked on. Fear almost, but not quite as consuming as my longing for a child.

Big Fella and I have talked about this a lot. He’s held me as I cried my heart out, he’s consoled my fears and prayed for peace. We both grip hands a little tighter when we’re around babies. He’s discussed names and nursery gear with me. We’ve discussed finances and while it would be tight financially, by cutting out a few extras, we could afford it. All in all we have decided we’re ready. We decided that in January. It’s now September and we have not tried for a child yet. I have not stopped using birth control and I have no idea when the concept of being ready will transpire into actually being ready.

Is one ever ready? At least the first time? Do people meticulously plan out every aspect of that babies arrival years before they even conceive? Or is it just easier to assume I’m crazy?

I’ll let you decide. 

Another day, another dollar

Sick.

That’s what I am. Sick. *groan* I feel like crap. Probably lower than crap. Yuck! No matter what I come down with- cold, flu, bubonic plague- it always ends up with a sinus infection! My whole face feels swollen, I can’t breathe and what’s that? Oh right, I get to operate switchboard at work all day. Nothing says professional like a croaky, just smoked 3 packs of cigarettes “Good Morning!” I disgust myself.

But that’s right, I am still at work. No I did not stay home curled up in my duvet with a hot cup of tea reading the latest Harry Potter book. No! I am a trooper and I actually showed up today. Not that anyone cares really. My boss is on holidays and currently my days consist mostly of Facebook, online poker, Splitcoaststampers and now this lovely new addiction- blogging. Alright so I exaggerate a bit, I still do work in his absence, but since he’s the source of most of my work, it really slows when he’s not here.

Today is Wednesday. I’m so happy it’s the middle of the week already. Friday is certainly looming on the horizon and I can practically taste the weekend already! Not that I do anything exciting with my weekends per say, but I enjoy not having to do anything. It’s the lack of expectations and requirements that make weekends so sweet I think. I plan to spend most of this upcoming one outside.

I just discovered “outside” recently as lame as that sounds. All summer long I have cooped myself up in my house venturing out only for special events. Then the other night Big Fella (my husband) and I took our puppy to the playground behind our house. We swung on the swings with him and even had him try out a couple slides. For the record, he’s not a fan. Then we hiked up to the top of the hill and sat up there until darkness fell. It’s still warm enough to have flipflops and a light sweater on. We played fetch with Mr. B (the puppy) and he LOVED it! That dog never gets tired of playing. Considering his legs are like 4 inches long, he can run really fast! I love the way he listens to me. The way his little black ears perk up and he looks at me just waiting for a command. I am so proud of how well trained he is. It gives me hope that I’ll one day be a decent mother. 

Well… I should stop babbling on now. I know this post is a bit convoluted but to be honest, it’s what it was intended to be. I’m trying not to censor myself. To express each and every one of the random things that cross my mind- if only for the ten minutes a day I get to write this. Cheap therapy. But still effective, at least two days in.

Last minute thoughts: I miss my mother, I want to be able to breathe normally and I like getting to know myself.