Tag Archives: personal

Too Charming for Myself

Last time the a/c technician came to the office, he kind of asked me for my phone number and i kind of said No.
Today he is here again and i think i made him cry.
I told him no one told me he was coming.
It is unnerving for a guy to just show up and want to come in, and i think he got sad.
I just passed him down the hall and gave him my best fake smile i have to offer.
Charmed, no doubt.

This morning i went to do ministry work which is done this way in my congregation:
Whoever is a member of that congregation or an active member of another congregation can meet at a set time at our hall.
In our hall it is only in the mornings and since i work most mornings and oversleep the other mornings, (without mentioning the mornings on which i do both), i tend to only make my own arrangements and go out in the evenings.
But i try to show up Fridays and Saturdays to the group meetings when i can.
Today only one brother was going out in the ministry.
He is a Vietnam Vet and has a lot of stories.
(We don’t go to war but that was before he studied the Bible).
He is retired and married but his wife died twice and the paramedics brought her back to life.
(“Oh Well,” he says).
Now she is overweight and can’t really walk anymore, so he is always alone or with this single younger brother who is a little socially awkward, but i’ll leave his stories for another day.
So this brother is from Central America and he’s always contrasting his childhood on a coffee farm with the time he spent in trenches in Vietnam.
Later in life he had other jobs, the last of which was a lawyer.
Today we were speaking with a genuine hippie, the kind you only find in Ojai, Seattle or Oregon.
Mr. Hippie owns a big property (big by California standards) and feeds wild animals from scraps he finds in the neighbors’ trash bins.
He bathes in the creek or ocean with his clothes on.
(Thank God).
I’m pretty sure he was stoned the whole time we were talking to him.
You see, people round here are not that nice.
But he invited us to take a seat and the brother i was with was telling him his war stories while a woman who rents a room on the property overheard and was visibly disgusted.
That is the problem with people round here.
No one wants to hear the truth.
They just want to paint butterflies on their walls and build water fountains out of rocks they find in their neighbor’s driveway.
Still, despite his probably being stoned, we had a good conversation about making conscientious use of the earth’s natural resources.
He pretty much thinks everything humans do is damaging and we are bound to destroy ourselves.
I tried to read him a couple verses from the Bible about the future but if you are a woman, perhaps you can relate to the following:
There is a point when a woman is having a conversation with a man when you know he is dismissing your opinions as not having any serious weight to them because he is seeing you as a sex object.
Confirmation of this suspicion came when he proceeded to ask me my age.
What the hell, you go talk to people about God and stuff and guy just wants to know if you’re young enough to bear his offspring.
Of course i only put two and two together because he held his gaze for too long.
I was uncomfortable but the brother i was with didn’t seem to notice and kept sharing war anecdotes.
I don’t mind that the brother strays off topic because i wonder what his mind would be like if he didn’t have anyone to share his traumas with.
He could be one of those homeless guys who heckle my friend and me at the park.
Vets have been through a lot and though i am opposed to war, they do not get the social help they need- that is more than obvious.

I am still adjusting to the local small town artsy culture there is here.
I still haven’t decided if i have any friends yet.
One sister whom i spend a lot of time with and yeah, she’s pretty cool, kind of keeps hinting that she wants to see my twitter account but i don’t think our relationship is there yet.
At least i’m not.
(My account is public but i dunno. It’s a big step).
There is a sister who i was getting along great with but last time i saw her she kind of got on my case about not meeting in the mornings and i am the kind of person that usually doesn’t reply… but the more i think about it, the more i wish i had said, “Uhm some of us have to work.” and possibly even be more insulting because she lives off a trust her husband has and he is a little bit disabled, and she doesn’t work because she has asthma.
I have asthma too but i work.
So it is just irritating when people pressure you to do more and you already feel like you’re doing the best you can and instead of asking how they can support you, they focus on what you can’t do.
Don’t get me wrong, i love everybody, at least in theory.
But when things like that happen i don’t have anyone that i can talk to about it because i am supposed to be this model minister who gives discreet answers to stoned hippies and doesn’t tell off the homeless guys who heckle her at the park, she doesn’t tell people to mind their own business when they ask about her personal schedule and she doesn’t talk about her bouts of depression because she is supposed to be always happy and smiling and encouraging and God i hate everyone, i swear everything i do is all out of love to God and no one else.

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Kalistera, Kosmos!

How do you tell someone you hardly know that you’ve selected them to teach you Greek?
You see, i have been trying to teach myself Greek since last summer but i keep forgetting everything i learn.
My brain doesn’t store it in its “probably will be useful later on” portion.
It stores it in the portion labeled “mambo jumbo and ideas that make no sense.”
That portion gets wiped clean every 3-4 days, when it gets full and needs to make space for new ideas that make no sense.
Anyway, we met this Greek woman at her door when we were handing out invitations for our congregation.
It was my husband’s turn to speak and he went on and on about how much we’d love to visit Santorini but we don’t because planes fall and we don’t like that.
She was very attentive.
She must have learned English as an adult.
She lives in a beautiful cottage complex on a huge property that looks like an abandoned wild garden with patches of organized harvest here and there, all the way in the back.
Stones painted like cats peek between the high grass and wire arches coated in ivy beckon one toward brick paths, leading to doorways with splintered chipped paint.
Man-made dry creek beds swirl in front yards while a natural creek flows audibly in the back.
Now, i had honestly given up learning Greek a couple weeks ago, so i completely forgot to say anything to her in Greek then and there.
You know, like when you’ve been waiting for a special moment for ages, then you think it’ll never come, so when it finally does come, you miss it entirely.
Like when you’re waiting for your team to score and the game’s about to end so you just get up to beat traffic, then turn on the car radio only to find out your team scored.
Or when you’re going to medical school to learn how to save people and suddenly someone needs CPR but you forget that you’re going to medical school so you just let them die.
So i completely forgot i had been learning Greek for the past 6+ months and missed my one and only opportunity to ever practice Greek.
Hopefully when i go back and try again, she won’t think i’ve just now decided to learn as a result of meeting her.
That would be creepy, right?
Like if i tell someone i teach Spanish, and then they say, “what a coincidence! I just decided to start learning it just this second” that would be weird.
Right now i’m trying to remember why i decided to learn Greek, and i really don’t know why.
I like to read the original Greek Bible verses in church when i get bored.
(Not that church is boring.)
(I just get distracted, but in a good way.)
But maybe this is why i wanted to learn Greek all along; maybe i was supposed to learn it in case i ever met someone who spoke it!
So that i could ask them to teach it to me!
But then what?
Maybe i’m just a language geek.
A Greek-geek.
Try saying that five times fast.

Why I’ll Start Writing Again

Whoa, I just read what I wrote almost a year ago– That’s some dark stuff there.

I didn’t remember having written that, but looking back I understand what was going on.

That’s the power of blogging.

Well the old me is back, the real me, the one who uses a pseudo-pseudonym and wants to write 24/7, even when I’m dreaming.

The truth is I never really stopped writing; it was just very dark and lonely and unsuitable for this blog’s audience.

So it was on Tumblr.

Naturally.

I don’t want to go into details about the past, but my marriage is as good as it’ll ever be.

I am less interdependent so if that relationship goes down I think I might skip a beat but probably not 2 and definitely not 3.

Now I no longer commute for work. My boss got me an office a few blocks from my home, so I could concentrate on sales, and I no longer have to wait for coworkers to leave the room before I can write.

I’m all alone here, just me and the Internetz.

And the phone. That rings every now and then but I’m not sure how it works. I think it’s trying to tell me something.

Oh! My faithful subscribers. How I’ve missed thee. If only you could know the anguish our separation has wretched me with. I shalt never leave thee again!

Unless I die. In which case, leaving thee is entirely involuntary and should not be held against me.

Unless it’s suicide.

If I kill myself you can be mad at me. But not if it’s accidental, like an overdose. Stuff loses its strength over time. They don’t make it like they used to.

Anyway, let me tell you what my office is like.

It is on the second story behind an art gallery which sells weird ethnic art, like the African pieces my boss had at his office. I imagine that subconsciously it largely influenced his decision to choose this location.

There is a winery next next door and the mother of the owners is a new friend of mine from my church. My friend also owns the vineyard so in a way it makes me feel special somehow even though it has little to do with me.

In my office, there is a tiny window out of which one can view happy little people- “kids” i think they are called- playing in a park-like setting, around a beautiful fountain surrounded by red and yellow sycamore trees.

The window has bars over it in the old Spanish style and is a small reminder that whilst i am at work, i am to think of myself as a prisoner and partake in none of those joys which i may observe below.

My one point of social interaction is when i walk to the post office every day, or when i get lucky, the FedEx drop off.

The clerks at the post office know me now and they are like 100 times nicer than the ones in DOWNTOWN SANTA BARBARA- yes, I HOPE YOU ARE READING THIS you mean clerk who made shipping packages from there a living hell.

(Just that one clerk though- all the other ones were nice, especially Daniel and Michael. I think they are vets). (War vets not animal vets otherwise their career counselors should have told them).

Everyday the bell at the post office tower chimes out a song. Lately it’s been a lot of Christmas music, which some of us find tastefully offensive. But mostly it’s old American classics, the same kind that used to play in my 65 Mustang’s AM radio.

My office kind of has more space than i need and no walls. My boss let me have his old glass desk so i need to rearrange the computer stuff onto that but i’ve been meaning to do it for 6 weeks now and i just can’t seem to bring myself to do it.

I have what they call lazyphoria.

The office is very cold but it has a brand new climate system which no one knows how to program for heating, only for cooling.

Sometimes i bring my guitar but i can’t play very loud because i’m afraid the other tenants will hear me and ask me to perform for them. Then my boss might find out i’m using the office for concertos and then he’d want to get me a bigger office. But i like this one just fine.

There is a skylight on the ceiling.

Well duh, it’s not like there would be a skylight on the floor… *clears throat*

I guess that counts as a window too. I can see some form of rusty pipe and sometimes clouds, but today the sky is blue- like a tepid sky-blue.

Once, down the hall, the hatch to the roof was open and I climbed the ladder because no one was around and the hatch was open, beckoning for someone to climb up through it. There were only more pipes and roof gravel.

Downer down the hall there are a couple of architects who mostly just look stuck up but are actually quite decent, i imagine, and a married couple who are masseuses, (am i saying that right?) and they are just about the nicest people one could ever meet.

Downstairs there is the shared girls’ room, which ought to have but does not have a mirror, because i assume the other tenants are too ugly an no one wants to remind them of that.

Someone is building a tapas bar so i have that to look forward to.

Perhaps then i shall make a friend or two.

But knowing me, i’ll probably just observe them and then write about them.

So now you have something to look forward to too!

 

 

 

 

 

My Anti-Style

How I really am…

My style of dressing:
What’s on sale at Goodwill?
Do I have to iron it?
Can I find matching heels?
Check today’s high temperature…
…Wear the same thing I wore one week ago.
Hope no one notices.

My style of singing:
Start soft, hold high notes, explore second voice, tap tempo, interweave lyrics slightly off beat, fall out of key, apologize.

My style of carrying keys:
Insert key ring through finger and jingle as I walk.

My style of walking:
Drag feet as close to the ground as possible. Kick pebbles.

My style of running:
30 feet uphill then hyperventilate.

My style of drinking water:
I always miss my mouth for some reason.

My style of driving:
Window half down, left hand steerer, right hand on the emergency break, listening to NPR.

My style of reasoning:
Well I could do it so why can’t they?

My style of befriending:
“Here kitty kitty kitty. Oh you’re such a fat kitty,  aren’t you?  Mrreow? Mrreow?”

My style of petting:
Ear scratch followed by a back stroke, followed by a tummy rub, sealed with a chin scratch.

My style of saving money:
I’ll have to come back to this one.

My style of eating:
Remove braces, remove what I’m allergic to, nomnomnom, choke on something, nom…nom…nom…, drink, brush teeth, insert braces.

My style of cooking:
Fry everything in oil with spices, then add sauce, boil, add more sauce,  melt cheese, add more spices.

My real style of cooking:
“Mom, do you have leftovers?”

My style of parenting:
“Kid, I appreciate your fondness,  but I’m really not your mother.”

My style of birth control:
Showering profusely.

My style of intercourse:
Rejection, crying, writing a song about ponies and daffodils.

My style of cleaning:
Natural store-bought liquids and recycled paper towels, sweep to my heart’s content, avoid mopping and vacuuming when possible.

My style of working:
Work a little, blog a little. Leave a stack for when my manager is here.

image

My style of receiving calls:
Act like you’re the center of my universe while I draw on a post-it.

My style of blogging:
Somewhat anonymous, somewhat sporadic, mostly non-linear, pretty much inconsequential.

My style of saving money:
Be generous and life will be generous to you.

In response to today’s prompt Style Icon.

Ye Ol’ Blog Post

Life Updates:
I have glue dots on my teeth.
I look Frankensteinesque.
I’ve resolved not to smile til my orthodontist takes them off.

Speaking of smiles, my general dentist wants to hire me.
Her practice is five minutes away from my new home.
For anyone not familiar with my life, that’s 5 minutes vs the 55 minutes of my current work commute.
That’s when I drive my own car instead of taking the bus.
That would give me between 8-10 hours per week to do what normal people do.
Cook.
Shower.
Sleep.
Read.
Socialize.
Haha! Just kidding.
Not socialize.
I’m not ready for that.
Whew.

I’m obviously getting overly excited by the possibilities.

Yes, she is the same dentist in whose chair I broke out crying that time I was arguing with my escrow loan broker over text messages.
If I had known she was going to offer me a job, I would have made a bigger scene.
Wailed even.

So, not my dream job; I’d just handle scheduling and calls while my friend concentrates on billing.
None of this customer service order processing silly stuff I have to do where I’m at now.
My dentist is a normal dentist though, with a decently sized staff.
Here it’s just the doctor’s assistant, (whose job I took), my assistant, (who’s no longer my friend), and myself.
My manager, as we will remember, is never to be seen, and the doctor here goes on lecture tours about every 5 weeks.
Not only that, Tuesdays and Thursdays they work out of another office, and no one comes Friday mornings but me.
As a result, I am highly self-supervised.
(And damn good at it).

Still, as I am not generally recognized as a strong authority figure, there can be issues.
Last week they were out of town and my assistant brought her sister, who also works in the dental field,  over to show her the office.
I snapped at her when she started explaining our production methods.
Our other coworker, the dental assistant, thinks I overreacted.
I think it was very unprofessional of my assistant to bring her sister to our packing area.

Yesterday, her sister confronted me at church and told me I’d hurt her feelings.
Boo-hoo.
She said I shouldn’t apply the rules to everyone.
Oh please forgive me, why was I such an ethical employee…

…You can understand why my assistant is no longer my friend.
But eh who needs friends.
I’ve got cats.
And a husband who tries really hard to please me even though he doesn’t always understand how I feel.
Or why I yell.
Parents who…
Well they have a great sense of humor.
And a few real friends who know better than to make me choose between them and my means of living.

I have to go to the new office and work two days to see if my new boss and I will fit each other.
I already got my assistant to cover me here but I don’t know whether or not to tell my manager yet.
If I tell her, it’ll have to be tomorrow.
Friday, right before I leave.
Ruin her weekend just like she ruins Mondays.

The truth is, when I asked for a raise, she said she didn’t think I was worth more and that there were a ton of people who can do just what I do.
Ha!
Who could possibly multitask between two separate businesses and blog at the same time?
Sometimes even while eating and still catching not just my own mistakes, but those of others?

Maybe it’s time to move on.
Besides, my stalker hasn’t called in two weeks.
If he can do it, so can I.

image
I probably won't be able to do this at my next job.

daily prompt just another day

Daily Prompt: Un Jour Plus

What’s your favorite daily ritual?

I’d like to say it’s writing this prompt, but it obviously isn’t, seeing as how I haven’t gotten around to it in the last 3 days!
Honestly I did not do this prompt on Friday because I don’t have that many rituals, other than taking a shower, and as much as I’d love to go on about the details of that, I’d rather leave it to the imagination.
Lol j/k.
I mean, I do shower every day, just don’t imagine it please, it’d be embarrassing.
Ok I’m blushing now.
Sometimes I’m too tired to pray.
I guess after the shower bit that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise.
I like to have cereal for dinner but sometimes I’m too tired to do that too.
When I feel well enough I just scroll through image after image on Tumblr until my eyeballs explode.
Then I have to find my way to my stash of back-up eyeballs and put them into my eye sockets which is really hard to do without seeing.
I think you understand why I skipped this prompt.
Moving on!

(Late) response to WP daily prompt Just Another Day