Today I celebrate my independence from the British...
Whilst tossing away pretty much everything I own (CDs and DVDs... you're next!) I found a box full of stuff pertaining to that Guy-Who-I-Hope-Chokes-on-an-English-Muffin. Pictures, gifts he'd given me (including a pair of shoes that were not my style), etc. I went through the pictures and laughed as I went along... he really was a goofy dude... but it was sort of surreal, because while I know I dated this guy, it was like looking at someone I never even knew. Even looking at me was weird, because I really don't recognize that person. I pulled out a few pictures that had some other friends in them and tossed the Brit into the trash bag. I found another stack of stuff from the Blood Seller and tossed most of that as well.
Shaniqua came in and said she never would be able to toss pictures. I told her that these people are in my past, and frankly I don't care or think about them any more, so why hold onto these things? To me, they're just taking up space.
Maybe that makes me cold hearted. I don't know. But I do know that hanging onto items from the past has never meant much to me. Whether good or bad, the experiences I had with these people have shaped who I have become now, and really, that's all the reminding I need.
So, goodbye to the Brit, and goodbye to the Bloodseller. You've been cleared out.
I do kind of wonder, though, wherever you are, do you somehow know you've been tossed?
I guess that's a question to which I will never know the answer.
-K.
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The other day, I stopped in at a fast food joint to get something to eat. I gave my order to the person standing behind the cash register, who did not acknowledge the order in any way and made no move to enter it into the cash register. Instead, he was looking around me, silently trying to get the attention of someone out in the dining area. No customers were standing in line, so I figured it had to be someone already seated. The person behind the register moved down the counter, still gesturing to some unseen person, extending a hand, but did not call out to whomever it was. Nor did he say anything to me, such as "I'll be right with you."
Slightly put out, I waited as the person returned to the cash register. Again, I gave my order, and again, the person ignored me, still looking around me at some unknown person. Now completely pissed, I asked him, "Are you going to wait on me or are you going to talk to somebody else?"
Finally, the clueless clerk spoke. "I was just trying to give him his change!" and showed me three pennies. First of all, there was no "him" to be seen -- the ordering area had been empty of people the entire time I'd been inside the restaurant -- and secondly, you don't get that invisible person's attention by gesturing silently, however much you stare and wave your arms.
Thoroughly irritated by this time, I said, "Fuck it" and stalked out, getting my meal elsewhere, from a place where I was actually able to get someone to take my order.
A one year old boy, who could have a tracheotomy, be taken home from the hospital and live his life, may have his ventilator removed at the wishes of his mother and the HOSPITAL TRUST PAYING FOR HIS CARE, because his severe physical disability has been deemed 'intolerable suffering'. His father disagrees and is fighting for his son's life.
I turned in my two week notice at work. I feel way better about life in general now.It had gotten to the point where I could barely get out of bed because I was so filled with dread at the thought of going in . I have an interview today and I am pretty sure as long as I don't go in and make a complete ass of myself I will get the job.I think my unhappiness in my job has been playing a big part in how bad my depression has been lately, as soon as I put in my two weeks I felt like a huge cloud was lifted off of me.
]]>While out driving on Halloween the other night, I drove through a neighborhood in full trick or treat mode. Though a minority of older kids walked from house to house, most kids were driven by their parents to each house, getting in and out of the vehicle (mostly ubiquitous minivans) ever 25 feet or so.
This meant that the road was clogged with pausing and slow moving vehicles, which made it very difficult for through traffic to drive down the street. It also made it more dangerous for drivers like me because it made it harder to see kids on foot, and made it more dangerous for the kids, as it made it harder for them to see through traffic, and because of the unpredictable movements of the minivan parade.
I don't know why the parents of small children just didn't park their vehicles and get off their lazy asses and walk
with their kids to each house. And the parents of older children
should have been home giving out candy and let those kids travel in
groups to trick or treat on their own. It seems to me that if you're ten or eleven, having to spend the night getting in and out of a car with your parents there the whole time would suck all the joy right out of Halloween.
Halloween is totally different now for kids than it was when I was a kid trick or treating back in the sixties and early seventies. For one thing, only the smallest children had parents going with them to trick or treat, and even then the parents walked with their kids, they didn't drive them from house to house. And from about the second grade onwards (age 8), kids trick or treated on their own in groups in their own neighborhoods and the parents stayed home to hand out candy to other kids.
I lived in a huge subdivision where nearly every house participated. My mother would give me a king size pillow case and I'd fill that up, then return to get another one to fill. Trick or treating typically began at dusk, and continued for a few hours.
It was a lot more fun for us than it is for kids nowadays and I kind of feel sorry for kids now because they won't experience Halloween like most Baby Boom era kids did.
It seems as if I have a homing device to attract the religious of all stripes. I don't know what it is; perhaps it's my air of disrepute that attracts them like moths to a flame.
Recently, they hired a new guy at my place of employment, a squeaky-clean, straight arrow kind of person. I didn't have a problem with him until he started peddling his religion on me. He'd heard that I liked music and had some formal musical training, so he used that as a way to start preaching to me. Starting out innocently enough, he told me that he was the "praise leader" at his church, in charge of providing the music for their services, blah, blah, blah.
After a few moments of this, he got to his point of the entire conversation -- he wanted to know where I went to church. All the fundies do this, as they believe it's their duty to sell their religion to one and all.
Not really caring to discuss my opinion about religion with him, I simply told him that I didn't go, hoping to leave it at that.
No such luck.
He invited me to attend his church, telling me that I could be an asset to their "praise team" with my musical training.
I nearly choked and laughed myself to death all at the same time. Hell, talk about barking up the wrong tree! I'd probably burst into flames if I ever set foot into his smarmy, fundamentalist church.
Still not wanting to discuss religion in a work setting, I merely declined, citing the fact that I'm scheduled to work every Sunday.
Fortunately, at this moment, he had to get back to work, so I was spared being more blunt with him. But I'm guessing that some time soon, I'll have to tell him to fuck off in no uncertain terms.