Searching for Superman

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me

It's not easy to be me. 

Superman 

This guy at work has started this trend of wearing ties on Thursday.  He calls it "Tie Thursday."  

I appreciate a man in a tie.

For me, it's because I have this Lois Lane-Clark Kent-Superman fantasy.

Now, I'm not at all attracted to the guy at work, but I am attracted to the idea of men wearing ties.

One of my favorite movies growing up was Superman.  

But, not because of "Superman".  I loved it because of Clark Kent.

I loved that this mild-mannered, bespectacled, suit and tie wearing newspaper man had a secret.

A secret that allowed him to save damsels in distress, save children in burning buildings... allowed him to fly, dodge bullets and see through things.  All by whipping off his tie and glasses.

So, when I see a man in a tie (or glasses -- or both), I often wonder what secrets lie beneath that calm, composed demeanor. 

Is he a superman?  Will he save the day?

Does he need a Lois Lane?  

Run Away and Never Look Back...

Restless tonight
'Cause I wasted the light
Between both these times
I drew a really thin line

It's nothing I planned
And not that I can
But you should be mine
Across that line

If I traded it all, if I gave it all away
For one thing, just for one thing
If I sorted it out, if I knew all about
This one thing wouldn't that be something

This morning, when I told my new group of new hires (all two of them) what the topic for the day was, they groaned and said, "Can't we just take the test and if we pass, we can skip it all and just sort of hang out all day?"  

For a few moments, I actually considered it.  Then, fear of getting in trouble beat some common sense into me and I plowed forward with the training.  It's very boring stuff, new hire training.  I've tried to pep it up.  I've tried to insert some games and personal stories.  I try out new ice breakers.   However, while I'm doing it, all I hear in my head is this constant buzzing sound similar to "snow" on old-fashioned televisions.  When they are talking, all I hear is blah blah blah blah.  I'm not interested in it.  I don't know why I expect them to be interested in it.

One of the ladies made a somewhat judgmental statement today that she felt people at work could benefit from some sort of on-site fitness center.  She said, "Have you looked at some of these people?"  This peeved me.  Later, when she and I were alone, I asked her what she meant by the statement and she said she meant that most people seemed depressed and lacking energy and that if we had an on-site gym, maybe they'd be happier and more energetic.  I did not burst her bubble.  I told her it was a good idea and moved on.  I thought she meant that everyone was overweight.  My own sensitivities I guess.

I'm very restless.  I'm in this weird mood where I feel like I need to shake things up, do something radically different.  I'm tired of hearing buzzing in my head when I'm training and boring myself to tears when I should be excited and motivated.  I don't hate my job.  I don't.  In the grand scheme of things, I could do worse. I've learned how, for the most part, to let go of the things I wish I had more control over.  It helps to have a team-mate who seems to share this... restlessness.. on occasion.  

But, at the end of the day, I want something to quench the restlessness.

On my way home from work, I pass an exit ramp to I-264.  One way goes East to the ocean and one way goes West to... you know, I'm not entirely sure where.  Tonight, I had this strong urge to just pick West and follow it as far as I could... or get off at some exit and see where it took me.  Sadly, I don't think it would be too far out of my neck of the woods.  Not radical enough.  Not far enough away.

I think part of this is stemming from the fact that tomorrow is the 4-year anniversary of my last day at Chase.  It was supposed to be the beginning of great things.  I was supposed to move here, lose weight, find some new and exciting job, fall in love, and live happily ever after with a year-round tan.

I gained weight.  I got a job similar to the one I left.  I haven't had a real date since I moved here.  And I haven't been to the beach once this summer.

I know I don't want to dwell on the past.  It's over.  I made my decision.  I don't believe in regrets or mulling over coulda, shoulda, woulda.

I think I'm going to conquer my dislike of driving and pick some random road and direction on the map and take off.  Just drive and drive until I find something interesting to see and do.  

I might come back.

Going, Going, Gone (Another "Gordon" Blog)

Yeah, we gotta start
Looking at the hands of the time we've been given
If this is all we got and we gotta start thinking
If every second counts on a clock that's ticking
Gotta live like we're dying

We only got 86,400 seconds in a day to
Turn it all around or to throw it all away
We gotta tell them that we love them
While we got the chance to say
Gotta live like we're dying

My friend Gordon strikes again.  This time, it's something called the "Poof Factor."  He should be writing this blog himself now that he has access to do it, but I guess he has performance anxiety or something.  I hear men sometimes experience that.

 

Now, if you know me, you know I like to give people things.  I discovered that Gordon has a sweet tooth and seems to share an affinity for white chocolate. So, I share my chocolate with Gordon.  Sort of living vicariously.  I can't really have much candy or chocolate so I buy it and give it to him.

He seems to think I'm trying to give him diabetes by feeding him regular doses of chocolate. He calls it Munchausen by proxy but that usually involves a parent trying to kill their child or make their child dependent upon them by making them sick.  Hmm, hate to break it to you Gordon, but I'm not old enough to be your mother and there are far better ways to slowly kill you or make you sick.  Like, oh, I don't know, poisoning your gum.  If I were the sort of person to do that sort of thing.  Which I'm not. It's too bad you feel this way because I had white chocolate in my un-needed "hurricane preparedness" stash. Guess I'll have to find someone else to give it to. (shrug)

I find it slightly humorous that Gordon is concerned about his future health and well-being considering that in the course of the past few days, he has tried to convince me that dying at the age of 50 is a good idea and that aging in reverse until we just go "poof!" (the "poof factor") is also a pretty good alternative if dying at age 50 doesn't appeal. 

Dying at age 50 does not appeal to me.  I'm depressingly getting closer to that number each day and I have far too many things to do and see to die at age 50.  (See my blog Only The Good Die Young about my bucket list for more on that.)

Now, I know Gordon is joking.  At least, I hope he's joking.  The superstitious part of me will be very mad at him if he drops dead on his 50th birthday. I think I personally need more than 13 years to figure out how his brain works and to find that perfect song I can plant in his head.  I don't like to joke about death (or cars that break down or fake illness) for fear that it will jinx someone or myself.  I'm weird like that.  Gordon, however, does not seem to be fazed by it.  He seems to think that knowing his expiration date will make living a whole lot easier.  He won't have to get old.  He won't have to be on this earth at an old age all by his lonesome if everyone else close to him goes first.  Morbid.   

Now, the alternative -- the "poof factor" has some merit.  I often joke that I wish we could have access to our retirement funds and be able to not work while we're young enough to enjoy it and then instead of retiring at 60, we then start working and work until we drop dead.  I don't want to stop working at 60 when I'm possibly too old to enjoy life.   So, the thought of starting out old and aging backwards has some merit.  Although, I'm not quite sure I have the patience to suffer through wrinkled skin, gray hair, hot flashes, saggy body parts and the need for "intimate warming gel" just to get to the good stuff 40-50 years down the road.  I don't think Gordon's quite thought that through, to be honest.  Viagra.  Baldness. No teeth.  Hmmm.. no teeth.  Now, that one has some potential.

I suggested that we just stop aging somewhere around 30.  30 was a good year for me.  Old enough to know better and young enough to still enjoy the things I should know better than do. 

But, he said no.  Gotta commit to the whole thing.  Gotta keep going until you become a microbe.  Go poof! 

I tried to update my Facebook status earlier with this theory of his, but my cell phone kept autocorrecting "poof" to "poop".

I guess it's better to end life going poof, then to end life going poop!

Who Do You Think You Are?

Raise your hand if you don't care
What those platinum girls wear
Raise your hand if you're just here
To have a good time

Raise your hand if your lipstick
Doesn't make you a dumb chick
Raise your hand if the shape of your hips
Don't compare to the shape of your mind
You don't even stand a chance
I'm not taking off my pants

I'm here to start a one girl revolution
I'm not a barbie doll, shopping mall, silicone substitution
I thought I told ya
I'm a soldier
And I'm not leaving til the battle's over
One girl revolution

Last night, while waiting for Hurricane Irene to make up her mind about whether or not electricity would be knocked out, I watched The Breakfast Club on Cinemax.  I love that movie.  I have it practically memorized.  It's so quotable.

It made me think back to my own high school days.

I didn't have a clique.  I didn't associate myself with any one particular group of people all the time.  I still don't.  At work, I tend to be drawn towards positive, smart and funny people with similar work ethics, but I have friends from different age groups, gender, sexual orientation and backgrounds.

I don't know if this comes from growing up in a small town or if things were just different at my high school.

Now, don't get me wrong, the "stereotypes" existed.  There were jocks, princesses, nerds, band geeks, techies (the kids who chose to attend vocational technical classes), speds (special education), and druggies (the kids who allegedly got high on a regular basis.)   

I was on the "college prep" track in high school.  I attended "college prep" classes.  One of the strange things about my high school was that if you were on this track, all of the other groups/cliques sort of blurred.  You could be sitting in a chemistry class with a cheerleader, football player, nerd, techie and druggie.  (Yes, we had some druggies who apparently wanted to go to college.)

I had friends in every single category, most of which were friends I had made in grade school and junior high and didn't see any reason to NOT continue to be their friends just because I decided I wanted to go to college.  One of the contributing factors to this was that we had "homeroom" in high school that did not separate anyone based on which group they belong to.  I remember having this guy, Tom, sit behind me in homeroom in high school who was a techie and a druggie and he was one of the funniest guys I knew.  He and I would talk and joke around all the time.  No one ever pulled me aside and said, "Um, Bev, you're a college prep student.  You should not talk to him."

I was also very active in languages, the newspaper and the yearbook.  I spent a good deal of time with people who shared those interests.   I met a lot of interesting people from different groups and backgrounds covering things for the newspaper and yearbook.

When I think back to my social life in high school, a good portion of it revolved around high school sports, as it normally does with most small towns.  If it was football season, Friday nights were reserved for football games.  I always sat with the same people, a few rows away from the band geeks.  I always brought bags of confetti and had a good time.  One of my best friends was the mascot and another was a cheerleader.  I was always running up and down the bleachers, talking to various people.  Despite having an intrinsically shy personality, I was capable of becoming very social when the situation called for it.  Ah, those were great times.  Huddling together, celebrating our football team, trying to catch the eye of some guy, catching up on gossip, telling jokes... 

Then, after the football game, we'd all cram ourselves into available cars and head to Pizza Hut, where we would then cram ourselves into line to try to get a place to sit at Pizza Hut.  I had a crush on this guy named Billy who was best friends with this football player Chris, whom just happened to know my friend Michelle, who was a cheerleader, so Michelle would always try to orchestrate some way for us to share a table or ride with Billy or Chris.  It happened once and I didn't say one word to Billy the entire time.  Ah, high school.  Michelle would always give me a hard time about being so shy around boys.

If it was spring, it would be track and field type activities, with similar post-game activities and socializing.

I don't regret not pigeon-holing myself into one particular group.  It made me, I think, a better person.  More rounded.  More apt to have an open-mind about making friends, getting to know people.  Even dating.  None of my previous love interests are cookie-cutters of each other.

My college roommate used to joke that I could make friends with a serial killer (actually, I think she used the words "axe murderer" which always made me giggle and then when "So I Married An Axe Murderer" came out, I thought it was going to be about me...) because I would strike up a conversation with total strangers at the store, mall, bar, dorm, etc.  I didn't care.  I am curious about people.  I think it comes from being a writer.  Always looking for the story, the angle.

So, as I watched the movie last night, John Hughes hit the teenage angst nail right on the head.  I cried, as I always do, when Brian talks about the pressure to succeed, when Claire admits that her friends won't allow her to be friends with them, when Andy talks about trying to impress his dad, when Bender talks about being abused and when Alison admits that she had no place better to go.  Every single one of those people lived inside of me at some point during my high school days.  

I can't even imagine what it is like to be a teenager these days.  All of the stories about bullying and suicide.  I was bullied from 4th grade until I graduated by this guy Tim and his sister Lisa, who rode my school bus, and who made fun of my weight every single day, every single year, for 8 long years.  I may have hurt inside but I never once went home and wanted to kill myself because of it.  If anything, it angered me into being a stronger, smarter, more successful person.

There was only one time when I was a teenager that I actually did contemplate suicide.  It had nothing to do with bullying and everything to do with my f*cked up family (which is why I often say that Bender was totally misunderstood in The Breakfast Club.)  I wanted to go to college.  I had been accepted to 4 colleges.  I picked the one that was the furthest away from my family.  I was just weeks away from leaving for college when my parents decided that I did not need to go to college.  They held the purse strings at that time -- they were going to be the ones financing my dorm life and my transportation there. I had scholarships, financial aid and work study for the tuition. They just decided that I was not going to go.  I was going to stay home with them, get a job at a local grocery store, marry someone quickly, have kids and just stay there for the rest of my life.  So, I decided that the only option at that point was to end my life so that there'd be no "rest of my life".  I bought sleeping pills and had the letters all written. It really felt like the only option for me.  The alternative was death in itself.

Then, I asked my best friend at the time if she would mail the letters for me.  She freaked out on me and told her parents what I was planning.  Her parents stepped up and offered to take me to college and to help me get on my feet once I got there.  They talked to my parents and, well, I went to college.  I left Pennsylvania and never looked back.  I also did not kill myself (obviously) and that entire experience taught me to that there are always other options.  You just have to look for them.

Wow...  this was supposed to be a light-hearted exposition about how life imitates art (and I don't mean my blog from early July about the fake boyfriend...) and art imitates life.

See, I do have a serious side. :)

Um, so... how about those ... um...  Steelers.  Are they superbowl stars this year?

You're My Hero

Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and turn and dream
of what I need

I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

I have a hero fetish.  Well, ok, fetish is probably too strong of a word.  I have a hero fantasy.

Because I tend to be pretty self-sufficient and independent, I don't like to let people "help" me with things.  I tend to try to do it all.  I usually end up being the one trying to be the "hero" and helping others.  Control issues. Family issues.  Whatever.  It's inside of me.  I often take on tasks or missions that are probably beyond my limits for fear of needing help.  There are probably underlying trust issues, too.

When I was moving from Marietta to Columbus in 1996, I had two college kids lined up to help me load the U-Haul and then a friend and her boyfriend were going to help me unload the U-Haul once I got to Columbus.  On the day I was to move, neither college kid showed up.  So, instead of asking anyone for help, I carried box after box after box of items down two flights of stairs and down the block to the U-Haul.  The small and lighter things were not so bad.  However, I nearly killed myself trying to move a large heavy object.  Finally, the maintenance man in the boarding house where I was living took pity on me and helped me take the rest of the heavier items to the truck.  "Why didn't you just ask for help?" he asked.  I just shrugged it off.

Then, when I got to Columbus, my friend Lois and her boyfriend were nowhere to be found.  When I finally got her on the phone, she made some excuse.  So, I had to repeat the unloading process in Columbus.  Again, the smaller and lighter items were no big deal.  I am woman.  Roar.  Then, I got to the heavier items.  I even contemplated just leaving them in the U-Haul and saying the hell with it.  Just as I was ready to throw in the towel, one of my new neighbors saw me struggling and helped me unload the last few items. 

The lesson I learned from that was to hire people who are contractually obligated to help you whenever you need to move.

That said, whenever any sort of "disaster" strikes or might strike, all sorts of fantasies and daydreams run through my head about my white knight riding in to save the day.  I don't want to be the strong one all the time.  I don't need to be the strong one.  However, finding hero-types these days -- not so easy.  

If it's a snow disaster, I always daydream that I'm driving and get stuck in a snow bank... or get forced off of the road due to bad conditions or road closures and some super fantastic good Samaritan type man will tap on my window and ask me if I need anything.  At first, I'll decline the help and he'll leave me alone.  But, then, as I sit in my car, shivering and wishing I had thought to pack a blanket or something, the man will come back and just happen to have a blanket in his hands.  He'll then tell me he has hot chocolate or something and offer that to me.  At some point, we end up in the same vehicle together, sharing warmth, hot cocoa and talking about everything and anything until the bad weather passes.   Sometimes, the fantasy involves me needing to seek shelter and there is this cabin, with a fire blazing and lights on, in the middle of nowhere.  I'll knock on the door and there is some hero-wannabe, inviting me in and letting me warm up.  

Depending on the type of weather disaster, I have all sorts of scenarios that involve someone helping me out.

With the hurricane looming, my mind fills with images of someone, anyone noticing that I didn't buy groceries or that I don't have a grill or whatever and stops by to check on me.  "Hello, I just moved into the apartment across from yours and happened to notice that you don't have a grill...  I have a lot of defrosting meat that I'm going to be grilling later if you'd like to stop by."  Of course, I protest that I'm fine and he leaves.  But, then later, he comes back and insists that I come over because it's just too much and he's too new to know anyone to share it with.  I go and we end up sharing a meal, maybe some adult beverages and spend the night getting to know each other (very PG 13, of course).

Aaaaah, I need a hero.  I need a smaller town with nicer people.  A generator.  Non-perishable foods.  And a hero.

Practice Random Acts of Kindness

Is this the way it's really going down?
Is this how we say goodbye?
Should've known better when you came around
That you were gonna make me cry
It's breaking my heart to watch you run around
'Cause I know that you're living a lie
That's okay baby 'cause in time you will find...

What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around

I'm not a crunchy granola kind of person.  However, I do believe in karma.

One of my favorite movies is PAY IT FORWARD.  I love the idea that one small act of kindness can start a ripple effect that has the potential to change the whole world.  Wouldn't it be so much nicer if everyone else was so much nicer?

I consider myself a fairly nice person.  I like doing nice things for people.   I don't understand why there aren't more nice people in the world.

It's not hard to be nice.  In fact, it seems to take less energy to be nice than it does to be grumpy and selfish.

Hold a door.  Let someone go first.  Share a cookie.  Share a smile.  Say good morning.  Pay someone's parking meter.  Offer to help someone with something. Give up the "close" parking space to someone else. Let someone with one item cut the line at the grocery store.   Carry a spider outside and let it go instead of killing it.

I believe that what goes around comes around.   Whenever I'm tempted to not take the higher road, I stop and think about times in the past when I didn't and sure enough, my act of selfishness or childishness came back to bite me on the butt.  Life is just too short to be looking over my shoulder wondering if some not-so-nice thing I did or said is going to come back to haunt me.   I hope that I'm collecting brownie points with the Powers That Be each time I choose to be the bigger person.  I hope.  I also hope that every time someone does something not so nice that they are losing brownie points.  I'd hate to think that it's all for nothing.

Now, I'm no pollyanna.  I am human.  I am sarcastic.  I have a low tolerance for stupidity.  And I struggle every day with reigning in the desire to grab some people by the neck and squeezing very hard.

However, I always tell myself, "If you act like an a$$, you're gonna pay for it later."  

If you read my Facebook wall, you probably know that there are these young men in my apartment complex who have moo'd at me on two separate occasions this summer.  One time was back in June when I was walking back to my apartment after a couple of hours at the complex pool.  I ignored them, but then felt like crap the rest of the day because it saddened me that after all of the years I suffered being made fun of as a kid and adolescent, there are still people in this world who think it's funny to make fun of someone because of her size.  But, I kept reminding myself that I was the better person and that they were just childish and immature and that some day, they would get whatever is coming to them.

Then, last week, I was walking up the sidewalk to my apartment and a car drove by and I heard the mooing again.  I looked back and sure enough it was the two boys who did it in June.  It really hurt.  I know it's not supposed to.  I know I'm way more than what they see me as.  However, it made me really start to question why I even try to be the better person.  I wanted to hunt them down and make them pay.  But, I had a good cry and shook it off.

A few nights ago, I went to Subway for dinner because I didn't feel like cooking.  Behind the counter was one of the guys.  My heart dropped to my feet as soon as we made eye contact.  For one, I was embarrassed to be buying food.  All I kept thinking was that if they moo at me already, then knowing that I like to have fast food was only going to fuel their fire.  I felt like I should justify to him why I was there instead of home eating carrots and trying to starve myself into some size that won't get me moo'd at.

Instead, I held his eye contact and then said, "Do you recognize me?"  His eyes got big and he nodded.  His ears turned pink.  "It's not me.  It's my a$$hole friend," he said quickly.  I just said, "It's not nice."  He said, "It isn't me.  I swear."  I really wanted to be a b*tch.  I really wanted to hold a grudge.  Instead, I said, "So, do you live in my complex or are you visiting someone there?"  He said he lived there.  I then introduced myself and asked him his name.  He told me.  I then asked if he was military or in school.  He's in school.  I then asked him if he was from here.  He wasn't.  He's from Pittsburgh.  While the young man made my sandwich, I made small talk with him about the weather, the earthquake and didn't bring up the mooing at all.  After he rung me up and I paid (and he didn't charge me for my drink), he apologized for his friend and I just shrugged and said, "Hope to see you around! Nice to meet you!" and left.

I hope that he will think twice about making fun of anyone and if he really wasn't participating, I hope he will try to encourage others to be less mean and more open-minded about people.

I also hope that karma will reward me for being the bigger person by not knocking my power out for the next week.

What's Your Sign?

When the moon is in the Seventh House
And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
And love will steer the stars

I had everything on my to-do list for today done by 10:00 a.m., which left me eager to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day.  I have tons of other things to do, but I need to talk to my boss, who is on vacation, about a few of the things so I didn't want to get started and then have to repeat work.

So, I decided to stop by the training room and visit with some of the new hires. One of them handed me a can labelled "Fancy Mixed Nuts" and asked me to open it.  It was one of those "surprise" gag gifts where a fake snake pops out.  I laughed, then started teasing them and the trainer about "fancy mixed nuts" -- what's so fancy about them?  The more I said the word nuts, the funnier and dirtier it sounded.  One of the new hires asked me, "What's your sign?"  I told her, "Scorpio."  She said, "I knew it!"  She said that she was a Scorpio, too, and that she just sensed from my personality that I was one too.

I eventually went back to my desk and then spent the rest of the day engaged in banter and comedy with my co-worker Gordon, while researching future training topics and watching the clock count down.

I used to really be into astrology at one point -- used to read my horoscope every day and get all excited about anything that sounded remotely interesting in the area of wealth or romance.  I used to buy the January issue of Cosmo to get their "beside astrologer" book that listed all of my compatible signs and romantic forecast.  It's been awhile since I've checked in on anything remotely astrological.

Let's see what the stars have in store for my personality.

Intense, powerful and passionate about things - that's the Scorpio approach to life. If Scorpio is your Sun sign, then Mars and Pluto, the planets which look after the sign will give you the concentration and strength to make anything that you want to happen, happen. It also makes you a fearsome enemy when control is taken away from you and you feel that somebody else is trying to manipulate your life for you.

This is true.  I do not like to be manipulated. 

If, as a true Scorpio, you could live your life without ever having to compromise your Scorpionic principles, then you would have total power over everybody, know everything there was to know about everybody and their motives, be completely hidden from everybody unless you willed otherwise and strike a mixture of fear and fascination into the hearts of those you choose to meet. The key to this passionate soul is the word power. Scorpios want it. Not the sort of show-off power of status symbols that your friends the Capricorns like, though you understand that very well, nor the physical power that blazes the Aries; what a Scorpio wants is the real stuff - the invisible, string-pulling, controlling sort of power that makes people move when you use it. Therefore the need for control and power are key factors in the Scorpio personality. To many signs, power has to do with the cause and effect of external events. To Scorpio, it has to do with the experience of self and self-mastery. "I will therefore I am" is the core of the Scorpionic scheme of things. To be out of control or to be under someone else's control are deathlike experiences for the classic Scorpionic mind. Scorpio is the sign of death, sex and transformation. Herein lies the divinity and the mystery of this sign, for each of these experiences has deep psychological value, the potential of which is great power.

Also, true.  I do like having power, but not in the sense of controlling others.  I like having the power to make my own decisions and make my own changes.

You are very, very secretive about your true feelings and wherever possible you try to keep them in check. You show feelings which are appropriate to the situation, sure, but your real feelings are a long way behind those and only you know what they are. If you keep your feelings under control, you think to yourself and you know how other people are going to behave, then you will always be in control of the situation. That's how it works most of the time.

Also, true.  I tend to "show" how I feel, but do not like to tell how I truly feel.  At least, not all the time.  Even in this blog, I tend to hold back.

Hard work and turning your ambitions into realities are natural to you; once you've decided, then that's it - you get on with it, control the situation and achieve it. This is attributed to Mars - energy in action. If things need changing to meet your requirements, then you rebuild them from their deepest foundations without a second thought. That's Pluto at work - the ability to start again from scratch if need be.

Yup - decided in 2005 that I was going to move to Virginia Beach by the time I turned 40.  I was here in October 2007, one year ahead of schedule.

Sex has profound power in the Scorpio mind. This influence is vast and psychologically pervasive. Sexually tuned into all circumstances, this awareness can lead to an emotionally intense experience of life. Therefore, Scorpios bear the legacy as the sexual sign of the zodiac. The power of sex is the power of connectedness. Sex can connect all aspects of ourselves - our minds, hearts, souls and sexual organs. Scorpio makes its connections in all kinds of ways and with much intensity. This makes you very attractive to the opposite sex.

Sex is natural, Sex is fun, Sex is best when it's one on one...  Thank you George Michael.  I have been told I'm overly sexual in mind, talk and interests.  Don't know about the "attractive to the opposite sex" thing.  Still single.  No boyfriend.  Therefore, the sex in my life is theoretical. But, I do want someone special to "bang". (This is a reference to Crazy, Stupid, Love. Click here to see what I mean: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erzL1dZtg3Q)

Scorpio homes tend to be rather dark and densely furnished. You go for dark colors and for heavy and luxurious fabrics. Your taste in furniture is actually a close match for your taste in clothes: deep, dramatic reds are a frequent choice and so is black. 

Ok, this is not me.  I prefer light colors.  Pastels, ocean tones, nature tones.  My furniture is functional and comfortable and safely beige.  Now, I often think about, however, doing my bedroom in black and white with red accents.  But, it seems too bold.

Scorpio tastes in food are a combination of two factors: being a Water sign and being the astrological influence of the planet Mars. Being a Water sign means that you like your food moist and that you like it rather soft too. All dishes with come with a sauce or some other liquid dressing appeal to you. Smooth-textured food, whether savory like pates and souffles or sweet like cream desserts, is something you like very much. Mars governs all hot or spicy flavorings and any foodstuff which is red in color. This means that you like curry or chili; the flavor is hot, but the texture is soft, the way you like it. Finally, Scorpios drink a lot, as all the Water signs must to keep their body fluids levels correct. Mars' influence gives you a liking for strong spirits, though brandy is usually considered the Scorpionic favorite.

Hmmmm....  not really me.  I have a thing about texture.  Soft, mushy things are not a texture I enjoy.  I also do not like really spicy foods. 

Scorpios have distinct tastes in holidays. You like to go somewhere where there is an element of risk and excitement, where you might get yourself into a bit of an adventure. A holiday involving water sports also attracts you. There are various countries in the world which are associated with the sign of Scorpio. 

I do like adventure and fun.  Vegas is about the most exciting place I've ever been, though.  I love the water.  I will own a boat (and have a boat captain) someday.

Scorpio is penetrating, intense, resourceful, powerful, compulsive, determined, jealous, secretive, probing, suspicious, fascinated by hidden/taboo.

Why does this make me sound like the "SALLY" of the astrological signs?  I'm really not high maintenance at all.  Really.  Meet my needs and I'm good to go. 

Scorpios are fiercely independent. They are able to accomplish anything they put their mind to and they won't give up. They are perfectly suited to being on their own. They are not social butterflies like some other zodiac signs and some actually prefer to live on their own that way there is never any issue of who controls what at home, they like to be in control. 

Yup, treasure my independence.  Even wrote a blog called Miss Independent.  Go read it.

Relationships with Scorpio are always complicated, just like the person, their relationships are a series of extremes, they can even be downright moody for no apparent reason. Scorpios are known for their possessiveness and jealousy but on the other hand, they are extremely loyal. Scorpios have an excellent memory and combined with an inability to let things go, they can hold a grudge against someone who did them harm forever, in fact a Scorpio rarely if never forgives and forgets. They will even go as far as get vengeance on the person. On the other hand, they will always remember a kind gesture forever and repay it. Any kind selfless gesture done to a Scorpio will gain trust and respect which is extremely important to them in any relationship, either romantic or not. The best advice is to be honest with a Scorpio friend and in return, you will gain an amazing friend you will never forget and who will be loyal to you and never make false promises. Their truthful and shocking sense of humor is different than that of any other zodiac sign and the Scorpio makes an amazing, powerful interesting friend that can be trusted.  

Wow.  All I can say is -- Wow.

Scorpios have a fear of failure which they keep hidden extremely well, should their confrontation not be successful, or their career fail, they will simply use their adaptive skill to quickly move and and leave the bad experience behind. Do not ever expect them to fess up or share their tale with anyone however because this shows signs of weakness and Scorpio always wins, they are always the self-proclaimed best! One of the reasons they seem like they always accomplish their goals is because they set tangible short-term goals that they know they can accomplish, they know what they are capable of and this is what they go for. 

Hmmmm.....  I just mentioned in my "I want it that way" blog that I do not like to show weakness and that I consider it failure.

The Scorpio woman is very emotional, very demanding and very demonstrative. She is full of flair and intrigue, a fascinating woman that the strong A-type personality male will adore, for she presents the right amount of challenge with the right amount of rewards. The Scorpio woman is the ultimate seductive, flirtatious woman. She won't give a man her heart very easily because she is weary of trusting another person. The man will have to go through a series of 'mental tests' in order for the relationship to get solid and close. She may not show it, but she wants a close committed relationship. In order for this, the man has to be trusted, has to be affectionate and never try to control her. She is very possessive but the Scorpio woman is so full of mystery, sensuality and passion that most men do not mind being possessed by her.

This is probably why I'm still single.  Where are the strong men who can deal with this amazing package?

Never be fake with a Scorpio, they can see it a mile away. Be genuine with your comments and listen to them attentively, (they always have something interesting to say so this is never a problem!) Do not try to hide things from them or tease them, they always have to know what is going on. Remember, they are the only ones that are allowed to tease and present the mystery and intrigue! They like frankness and honesty, speak your mind they will respect that. Scorpios are interested in almost all activities, so finding something to do should never be a problem. They are unpredictable and could change course of the date mid-way though so take these last minute changes with a smile and try something different. They like people who are not afraid to ditch a plan and try another. In conversation, do not tell them that their opinions are wrong or shoot them down, they are too proud for this and even if it is a joke, they might not take it with the humor that you meant. Never try to control them but do not be the damsel in distress either, they like strong, real people with driving ambitious personality like theirs.

Based on this, I shouldn't be single. :) Sounds like an adventure to me!

Considered to be compatible with Cancer and Pisces.

Hmmm....  have never dated either sign.  Makes sense, though, since we're all water signs.

This is what my horoscope looked like for today (8/25/2011):

Stay busy today, Scorpio. Keep your mind occupied with basic tasks that need doing. You can accomplish a lot by multitasking, writing down a plan, and sticking to it. There is no shortage of things that need to be done so stop procrastinating. If you feel stuck on something, don't be afraid to ask for help. Friends and co-workers are your greatest resources right now.

This is my horoscope for Friday, 8/26/2011:

You might have some important work to do at home, Scorpio, but unexpected visitors might have other ideas for your day. Don't get angry or frustrated. Explain what's going on politely but firmly, and make arrangements to meet your friends later. They'll probably understand so there's no need to try to play host when your mind is somewhere else.

Oh, crap, Hurricane Irene is really coming for a visit.

Disaster Recovery

That's great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane -
Lenny Bruce is not afraid. Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn -
world serves its own needs, regardless of your own needs. 

...

It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.

I experienced my first earthquake yesterday.  Aside from lingering motion sickness, I was not all that impressed.  Now, there is much fervor about Hurricane Irene.  I am not rushing out to stockpile canned goods, bottled water and batteries.  I don't think anything major will happen.  Probably a lot of rain, which will put a damper in my weekend plans but I don't really anticipate evacuation.  I hope I didn't jinx us.

I like disaster films.  I love TWISTER, The Day After Tomorrow, Deep Impact, Armageddon, and 2012 (although, 2012 was a little disappointing.  Not John Cusack's best work!)  I love the old 70s films like Earthquake, Towering Inferno,  and the Poseidon Adventure.  There's a new movie called Contagion coming out in a few weeks.  I'll be there with bells on.

I do not stress out over disasters.  I grew up in SW PA (which you already know if you have been taking notes and following along for the past 70 posts) where I was regularly exposed to the threat of tornadoes, floods (there was a creek in my back yard), and heavy snow storms.  

Then, when I lived in Marietta, OH, there was ice in the winter and flooding in the spring.  

Then, Columbus was smack dab in the center of the state.  More tornadoes and heavy snow.  Yeah, been there, done that.  Spent Christmas 2004 in a Knights Inn motel because we got a really bad snowstorm that knocked out power for 4 days.  

Since moving here, I've experienced remnants of Nor'easters and Tropical Storms.  We've had ice and snow and high winds.  But, nothing to make me quiver in my shoes (until yesterday's earthquake, of course.)  And that was a small quiver.  Like when a roller coaster comes to a stop.

Now, I'll probably stop by the store on Friday after work and pick up some fruit and other items I can nosh on if the power goes out, but I will not be building a survivalist camp in my living room.  

That said, I do have a freaky confession to make about something I do when I travel.

I make an "in case of death" list.  Yeah, yeah, most people have In Case of Emergency contacts in their phone or address book.  Not me.  I have an In Case of Death list.

It all started when I used to travel a lot as a child care consultant and my mom would freak out because I was always going some place and she worried that something would happen to me and no one would tell her.  Then, I made a lot of cyber friends and realized that if something DID happen to me, no one would know.  I'd just be gone from the bulletin boards, forums, message boards, etc. (This was mid-90s and before we all got super savvy with things like Facebook and MySpace.)

So, whenever I travel, I am overly-morbid.

Before I leave, I make sure that copies of my itinerary are in several locations - work, home and car.  I usually email one of my close friends, too.  Then, I print out this contact list I have that lists all of the names and phone numbers (and in some cases, email addresses) of the people I consider of high importance in my life and who should be notified immediately if anything happens to me. On this list, I also have important social networking website password information so that someone can access my Facebook page and post some sort of update that everyone can see.  I also have banking contacts and my medical contacts.  I always create a blanket "authorization" granting my top people access to my accounts on my behalf to make sure that Abby (it used to be Molly) is taken care of.

I then print these lists and put a copy in my purse, my suitcase and my home.

Lastly, I make a spare key or two for my apartment and place them in secured places so that my top people can have access to my home and car, as needed.

It's not that I'm scared of traveling.  I'm scared of having something happen to me while I'm traveling and not being able to tell people what happened or how I felt.   I've even written, in the past, letters to friends, love interests and family members (and this was pre PS I LOVE YOU) that could be given to them if something happened.

I know it's an oddity but it's just something that I do.  I've become superstitious about it and think that if I don't do it, then something will happen.

I was a girl scout when I was a little girl and I always believe in being prepared.

Unless it's a natural disaster.

My First Love

Well, you admit you like the game
But you’re not gonna play
You just ignore what your body is tryin’ to say
I got the feelin’ that you’re playin’
And we’re both gonna win
And I think this angel is about to sin

I get excited
Just thinkin’ what you might be like
I get excited
There’s heaven in your eyes tonight
The fire’s ignited down below
It’s burning bright
Oh baby, stay, we got all night, all night
Baby please, I can’t please
If I’m on my knees tonight

I Get Excited....  about Rick Springfield. 

Today is Rick Springfield's birthday.  Sad that I know that, huh?

I fell "in love" with Rick Springfield when I was a mere lass of 13.  I used to rush home from school to watch GENERAL HOSPITAL and he played Dr. Noah Drake.  Womanizing Dr. Noah Drake.  The scoundrel.  I used to daydream about being Nurse Bobbie Spencer to his Dr. Noah Drake.

Then, I discovered that he sang, too.

Yes, yes, everyone and their brother has heard "Jessie's Girl."  But, did you know that his career actually started in the 70s?  He used to travel in a band and played 70s type songs.  I have all of his albums.  Trust me, I know.

I signed up for French class just to learn the what the words at the end of "Don't Talk to Strangers" meant.   

I learned lots of cool vocabulary words from him.  Listen to some of his lyrics.  He doesn't mess around with wussy words.  No sir.  Not Rick.

Now, "I Get Excited" is one of my favorite songs.  I used to pretend he was singing it to me.

When I was 14, I had no clue what "spread your wings" and "on my knees" meant in the sexual sense.  I was very literal at the age of 14.   The grown woman who appreciates the possibilities of a toothless boyfriend definitely knows Rick meant other things.  Rick, Rick, Rick.  You dirty boy!

Over the years, Rick Springfield (or my wildly fantasized and romanticized version of Rick Springfield, I should say) became the yardstick by which I compared all men.  I used to have a major crush on this guy, Jimmy, in junior high because he wore his dark hair feathered like Rick.  I've annoyed many many grown men by comparing them to Rick Springfield and by telling them about things Rick Springfield has done, might do, should do, could do, would do.

Now, Rick Springfield is old enough to be my dad.  He is married and has two children, one of which who was born on my 17th birthday (or maybe it was the day after.)  His wife is named Barbara.  

I've seen him in concert several times and meeting him in person is on my bucket list.

Last fall, he released an autobiography called LATE LATE AT NIGHT (a line from Jessie's Girl).  I got two copies for my birthday.  One was autographed.  My friend Dorrie waited in line for hours to get that for me and even got a photo with him.  Lucky Bitch!  (Love you, Dorrie!)

I read the book cover to cover the day I got it.   He is an excellent writer.  He says "Fuck" a lot.

I lost some of my "love" for him when I realized how he cheats on his wife regularly, however.

In my mind, I imagined that they had a great marriage, full of love, laughter and sex.  They have been married 25+ years.  But, sadly, this is not the truth.  Rick can't keep it in his pants.

But, he has given me 30 years of daydreams, great love songs and fantasies, so I'm going to excuse his indiscretions and keep him frozen in my mind like the perfect man I imagine him to be.

At least until a real man replaces him.  

Happy Birthday, Rick.  Thank you for 30 great years!

I Want It That Way

I'd catch a grenade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Throw my hand on a blade for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'd jump in front of a train for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
You know I'd do anything for you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I would go through all this pain
Take a bullet straight through my brain
Yes, I would die for you, baby

I posted the following blog last night and then deleted it out of a moment of blogger's remorse because it was too raw.

Now, I'm thinking, screw it.  It's who I am and what I'm feeling.  If I'm going to be a true navel-gazer, I have to put it all out there, right?

I saw the movie Crazy, Stupid, Love on Sunday.  I really enjoyed the movie.  It was funny, smart and endearing.  I laughed a lot, but I also cried.  I didn't see anyone else crying so I think maybe my own emotions were creating the tears.  

I think I will have to take a breather from romantic comedies for awhile.

This blog is not going to be like any of my other blogs... and if you thought some of my other "honest" posts were too real, then you may want to stop reading. 

You see, I'm a fraud.

I walk around every day making cynical, comical comments on relationships and love.  I tell myself and everyone around me that I don't need no stinkin' love in my life.

The reality is - I do need it.  I do want it.  I mock it because it's my way of talking myself out of wanting it and needing it.  To admit that I want and need something is my weakness.  I do not like to show weakness.  Ever. Weakness is failure.

You know how when you are a kid and you want something and are told you can't have it, you tell everyone you didn't want it to begin with.  You go for a job interview and don't get the job, so you tell everyone that you didn't want the job. We talk ourselves into not wanting things.  It's easier to make believe you never wanted something than to admit that you did and have to suffer the pain, embarrassment or whatever other uncomfortable feeling that comes with the admission.

The movie was about soul mates.  Finding them, keeping them, losing them.

I don't have a soul mate.  I don't think I ever have had one.  Yes, if you've been reading these blogs, you know that there have been 4 separate occasions in my life where I thought I was in love.  However, not once did I ever lie in bed at night and think, "This person is my soul mate."  The person who completes me.  The person I was meant to meet and be with.  I was always thinking, "This person could be my soul mate if...."

I want a soul mate.

That's why I need to take a break from anything remotely romantic in nature.   I left the movie feeling good.  Then, my mind started working.  I know the characters in the movie are carefully and thoughtfully written so that we feel for them, empathize with them, and become them in spirit and emotion for 120 minutes.   However, I couldn't stop thinking, "When will my turn come?"  Do I have to hire a team of Hollywood writers to create a perfect romantic comedy for me?

Now, I truly believe in the quote from the movie SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL where the female lead says that she'd rather be alone for the right reasons than to be with someone for the wrong ones.  I don't want just anyone.  I want "someone".  My "someone".  The person I'm destined to be with.  The person who is meant to complete me. (and vice versa)

When I think of the perfect couple, I think of my friends Janelle and Todd.

Janelle and Todd have been married for 19 years.  They were friends before they got married and remained friends after they got married.  They are wonderful together and you can tell that they love each other.  Would do anything for each other.  They have shared interests and they have separate interests.  They do not live out of each others' back pockets.  Todd will go away windsurfing for a week and Janelle will stay home.  Janelle will go to Ohio to visit family and friends and Todd will stay here.  Sometimes I do things with them as a couple.  Sometimes I do things with only Janelle.  Todd will come down and help me do things around my apartment -- like putting things together or hanging curtains.  I feel comfortable joking and talking with him.  I never feel like a third wheel when I hang out with them.  They work well together.  They are both smart, funny, caring people with good hearts and good families.  They know what is important in life. 

They are my role models.

I want a connection with someone who wants to be with me and do things with me.  I tend to be a loner and like my space so I'm not looking for someone to move in and take up shelves in my closet and put a toothbrush in the holder in the bathroom.  Or become permanent ink every night on my wall calendar. (I still don't own a day planner - see blog about dating advice for more on that.)  I'm still trying to figure out who I am as a person so until I know that, I don't want to invite anyone into my life on a "till death do us part" kind of basis.

I do, however, want the private jokes, shared looks, the reassuring/loving touches, the pet names, the comfortable feeling that it's "right".  I want New Year's Eve dates and Valentines.  Birthdays.  I want the wooing and the romance.  Texts, sexts, emails, and/or old-fashioned love letters (that one is for you, Cathy, if you are reading this.)   I want the "AND" between two names.  I don't want to read about it or watch it on the big screen.  I want to experience it.  For a month.  For a week.  Forever.  For however long it's meant to be.

It's really hard for me to admit this.  But, admission is the first step to recovery, right?  I don't want to get hurt but the alternative (never getting to experience it. ever.) is far worse. 

Maybe not right now.  But soon.  Before I become too jaded and before my heart dies.  (to quote the loner chick in THE BREAKFAST CLUB.)

You Like Me... You Really Like Me...

Mistreated
Misplaced
Misunderstood
Miss knowing it's all good
It didn't slow me down.

Mistaking
Always second guessing
Underestimating
Look I'm still around

Pretty, pretty please
Don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than

Perfect

I do not handle compliments well.  

I was at the salon today, getting my eyebrows cleaned up, and the stylist, Chelsea, asked me how old I was.  I told her and she said, "You'd never know it.  You have great skin.  I would have thought you were early to mid 30s, tops."

Now, true, she could have been just saying it to try to get a bigger tip, but for a moment I enjoyed the possibility of telling everyone I'm 32 instead of 42... until I realized that would mean being even further away from retirement.

Whenever anyone compliments me, I feel this need that comes from decades of being told "you're not good enough" to dispute the compliment.  I always find some way to joke it off, deflect it or something.  I hate that I do it.  As soon as I do it, I regret it.  The little voice inside my head says "just say thank you, smile politely and move on."  The self-defacing voice inside my head says, "Don't believe it. Don't let it go to your head."

I guess I should clarify -- only compliments pertaining to my appearance or physical being -- bother me.  If a person tells me I'm smart, funny, helpful, kind, nice, hard-working, etc, I eat that up and smile broadly and accept those compliments because I feel good about those qualities and feel confident that the compliments are sincere and true.

There's this scene in PRETTY WOMAN where "Vivian" and "Edward" are lying in bed and she confesses that all of her life, she's been told bad things about herself.  She tells him that if you hear the bad stuff long enough, you start to believe it. I'm paraphrasing.  Yes, I know.  I have the movie memorized.

All through my adolescence and well into my adulthood, I was always hearing from my parents that I wasn't what they expected me to be.  You'd think they would have been proud of a daughter who graduated high school with perfect attendance and straight As and who got accepted into all 4 colleges she applied to.  No. Their goal for me -- their mission for me -- was to get married and have kids.  In fact, when I was in high school, my dad introduced me to one of his CB-radio friends who was at least 10 years older than me in hopes that he could marry me off.   I was too headstrong.  Too independent.  I wanted to better myself and do great things.  I didn't want to stay in SW PA, marry some guy from that area and have a litter of kids.  I did not want to be just like the rest of my family.  Even after I graduated college (the only person in my family to graduate college), got a job, etc, it wasn't enough.  "What happened to that nice boy we met at graduation?  Did you scare him off?"  Then, later, "Are you a lesbian?  Why don't you have a man?"  And even later, "You know no man is ever going to want you if you don't lose weight."

I digress.  I get mad at other women who belittle themselves or make themselves the victim.  I am always encouraging positive self-worth, growing a spine, standing up for oneself.  I try to foster positive self-esteem in others by offering encouragement, support and compliments of my own on a regular basis.   I don't believe any of the things I heard growing up and I've pretty much adopted the "what the f*ck" attitude with my family (which is why I had to unfriend them.. I just could not allow them to poison my life.)

So, why can't I just say "thank you" when someone compliments me?  Why do I look over my shoulder to see who is standing behind me if a man smiles at me in public?  Why do I feel the need to point out my flaws when people tell me that I look nice in something? (And why are people still so shocked to see me in a dress on occasion?)

In addition to finding my idyllic small beach town some place where I can live, I'm going to start focusing on the fact that I am good enough, smart enough and that, gosh darn it, people like me. 

The real me.  In a dress. Looking like I've lost weight.  With my short sassy hair.  With my glowing soft skin. With my gorgeous green eyes.  With my pretty smile.  With my cute nose.  With my naughty laugh.  With my bodacious bosom. With my incredible sense of humor.  With my sharp brain.  With my great story-telling.  With my awesome memory.  With my fierce loyalty.  With my good cooking. With my generous heart.  With my youthful spirit.

Hmmm....  if I were to find a guy with these qualities (minus the dress and boobs thing), I think I'd date him. Maybe I'll just date myself for awhile and see how that goes. ;)

The Holiday Spirit

Have a holly, jolly Christmas;
It's the best time of the year
I don't know if there'll be snow
But have a cup of cheer

Have a holly, jolly Christmas;
And when you walk down the street
Say Hello to friends you know
And everyone you meet

Oh
Ho
The mistletoe
Hung where you can see;

Somebody waits for you;
Kiss her once for me
Have a holly jolly Christmas

I know what you may be thinking -- "Girl, it's only August, why in the world are you posting about Christmas?"

Well, anyone who knows me well knows that I generally do not enjoy the Christmas holiday season.  I try to get all of my "required" (family and closest friends) holiday shopping done by November so that I do not have to deal with stores or anything remotely ho ho holly jolly from November until the end of the year.  Yes, yes -- the woman who enjoys being a child on occasion does not like Christmas.  

The reason why I'm posting about it now is because I've had a couple of Christmas-themed dreams lately -- mostly about my company having a Christmas party.  A nice, dress up, go out and have fun with co-workers, get a little loopy, drink a little alcohol Christmas party.  Will this happen?  Probably not.  Would it help my mood if we did?  Maybe.

I wasn't always this way.  I enjoyed Christmas when it was magical and innocent and truly about fellowship, love and celebration of life.  I enjoyed Christmas when I could make gifts for people and have them appreciate the effort, creativity and love that went into the gift and not get a "Oh, you made me a gift" disappointed response as the person shook the gift bag hoping that money or a gift card would fall out.  I enjoyed Christmas until my nephews became greedy little sh*ts who turn their nose up at arts and crafts supplies and ask me where the overly expensive and not really needed electronics gift is.

I enjoyed Christmas until I got a job in retail in 1996. When you work retail during the holiday season, you get to see some pretty ugly sides of people.  People arguing and bickering and being aggressive.  People rationalizing things they can't afford and don't need.  People assigning a dollar sign to what a person's value is.  "Gosh, I need to get Susan something for Christmas.  I think I like her exactly $25 worth."  (THE OFFICE even did an episode about the bad boss trying to decide how much he liked people when it came to establishing a purchasing limit on holiday gifts.)

For me, I think the holiday should not be so commercialized.  I should not be asked to give $X towards a holiday gift for a boss that I had no say in buying or choosing.  Yes, they did this last year at my company.  Sent me an email two weeks before Christmas when my money was tight TELLING me that my share of a super expensive holiday gift for the department manager was $XX.XX.  Not - "Hey, would you like to give something?"  Not "We're thinking of getting...".  No.  It was "We bought this.  You owe this."   I told them politely that I had greedy little nephews to buy for and my money was already spoken for.  This was not a lie.  My part time job was over and I didn't have any extra money lying around.  So, one of my co-workers "put in" for me and then after Christmas was over, demanded repayment.  This did not sit well with me.

Before you think I'm a total grinch, I'm not.  I really am not.  

You see, I believe in sharing all year round.  I will not think twice about picking up some breakfast for someone, or covering a lunch tab, or grabbing something from the vending machine for someone.  I will buy things throughout the year to tell people I care, enjoy them, celebrate them, love them.  I do not need a date on a calendar in December to remind me that I like someone and need to buy them something.  I'd rather go hog-wild for someone's birthday which truly celebrates them and how much they are loved than to stress out over the perfect Christmas gift.

I try to be a trooper.  I try to be a team player.  I try to grin and bear it.

I keep hoping that "this year" will be the year I am able to feel and express joy for an entire season.

Last year, I almost made it.   Almost.  Until the "you owe me" thing for the holiday gift.

So, tell me -  can you even remember what you got for Christmas last year?  Huh? Can you? I can't.

However, can you remember the last time someone did something nice for you or gave you something just because they thought you were special?  I can.  

For me, those things are far more important and cherished than being told "HAVE a holly jolly Christmas, dammit!"