Random Acts

Magpie woke me up about an hour and a half ago. My fruit pie is still sound asleep upstairs and I’m working up the energy to start cleaning the house. I’m listening to that XM station again, feeling a little nostalgic and remembering things I should have long forgotten by now. I guess there weren’t so many bad things about that time when I focus on the part of my life that was detached from my family. For the first time in a long time, I can honestly say that I don’t remember the last time I was hopelessly depressed.
This week at work was fairly vegetative. I was sick on Monday and worked at home on Thursday. The boss was none too happy about the whole thing, but I can’t say that I care. I had a portion of my review on Tuesday afternoon, and I couldn’t help but give him some shit. I feel like I’m running this department most of the time. BossMan gave me all kinds of crap about how I do my job. He can’t stand the fact that I work on a personal level with the users. Maybe it’s just that I’m a woman. He got upset with me last week because I actually went to a user’s office to resolve something that a reboot would have fixed. I know a reboot would have fixed it. I knew exactly what the problem was. I also knew that if I just sent an email telling her to reboot and didn’t go over there to help her, she would have felt abandoned. She would feel that she was brushed off and that the IT department has better things to do than to help her. Sometimes people come in with their problems and really just need to talk. They want their frustrations to be heard…and to know that they aren’t stupid and certainly aren’t on their own. We’re like doctors in our own right. We have control over the operation of mission critical applications and, in affect, how easy someone else’s job is going to be. So, I told BossMan my philosophy and that as long as my projects are getting done, I am not going to change how I assist my users. Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten a ton of complaints about my fellow IT guys. I keep telling people that I can’t do anything about it…to use the suggestion box or talk to HR. I don’t know what more I can do.
I guess I’ve babbled away quite a bit of the morning now. I had points in my head, but I guess I just needed to ooze crap out of my head an onto the page. I can’t even begin to express how happy I am that it’s the weekend.

I stayed home from work today and have been cleaning the gigantic mess we managed to make all day. It’s quarter to three and the kitchen is clean enough to cook in and the clothes in the downstairs bedroom are put away or cycling through the laundry. I’m on my third load already and I managed to squeeze in enough time in the morning to exhaust the dog. When we came back from a walk to the park, I found an xm radio station that has all the songs I avidly listened to on KROQ when I was a teenager. I felt a little old…even though it wasn’t all that long ago. That Harvey Danger song “Flagpole Sitta” came on and I could almost smell those horrible cinnamon rolls from Burger King I used to get every morning my senior year. Ok, maybe not every morning. If it wasn’t those it was hot chocolate from 7-11. I remember the first time it played the radio. It soon became the song of our senior class…much to the dismay of the administration who stuck to the standard 10,000 maniacs ‘These are the Days”. I love Natalie Merchant, but she did some way better songs than that…and high school really isn’t a fond memory. All I really remember is how music was such a therapeutic outlet for so many years. I think that mostly its reminding me of where I used to be and how far I’ve come…cleaning my own house and getting ready to start a family.
I don’t think I quite realized just how much I missed these critters. Mags and I were running and playing to exhaustion at the park…and she was such a good girl that it made me want to give my notice and stay home with her every day. The boys have been absolutely adorable all day…and part of me feels like they’re doing it on purpose to get me to stay. I forgot how much I love being home…and I knew that I love it. I have a lot more work to do, but I’ve already accomplished an amazing amount…I think. I think it would take a whole week of being home to get the house in some semblance of order. But, I already feel better knowing that the kitchen is clean…and the washing machine is running.
In about an hour or so, I’ll start on dinner and have everything ready when my sweet fruit comes home from her long, hard day at work.

Nobody ever told me just how beautiful snow is. If they did, I may not have believed them anyway. All I ever hear is how ugly it gets…how horrible the old slush is…how much of a pain in the ass it is on your driveway and not even to mention driving in it. Maybe I’m just a naive California girl, but walking in it today felt like being a little kid. The way it sparkles on the ground and blankets everything made me giddy. After working out in the gym here for the first time, I saw it falling outside and promptly put on my warmies and went for a long walk. I threw snowballs at nothing in particular…wrote love messages that my fruit will never see…I pretty much did everything but make yellow snow…and if I could have I would have. If it only snows for this hour and doesn’t snow again until I go home, this moment has made my trip worthwhile.

I was in a sad, lonely, bad mood this afternoon and decided to brave the cold and walk to Chili’s. I’ve been there four times this week…thrice for dinner and once for lunch. All there is in this area…in walking distance of my hotel…is Chili’s and IHOP. I always take advantage of the free eats for breakfast here, but, lunch and dinner I’m always on my own. I was in a bad way, and all I really wanted was a beer…but, since there is only smoking and non now…smoking being the entire bar area…I am confined to a table in the regular dining area. I felt so horrible, that I’m not entirely sure I could have trusted myself not to bum one from someone in the bar. So, I had my ID out and ready for my Q of Sam and decided to order the Shanghai wings…after all, when would I get a chance to again? The waitress took my ID to the manager to look at…apparently this is the policy for out of state IDs…despite the fact that I’ve probably had a half gallon of beer from this place since I got here on Monday night. Five minutes later, big man manager comes on over and starts grilling me.
“You’re from California? Why are you here?”
“Yes. I”m here for a training class.”
“With what company?”
“You wouldn’t know anyway, but, Misys is the trainer”.
“Oh. So you’ve been here a week?”
“Just about a work week, yes. I am here to refine my SQL skills for a proprietary database. I will be leaving tomorrow.”
It was at this point that I remembered a conversation I had with a a man and his wife on the flight down here. They were getting quite loaded…and I suspect had been drinking on their previous flight as well. The man asked what I do…and I told him. I’m a help desk technician, and I’m in Chicago for a database report writing class. He glazed over for a second, looked and me in awe and said, “One thought from your head would blow my brain apart”. I laughed and assured him that this was not true…but, I should have asked him for liberties to use that line for instances such as these. If I weren’t a nice girl, I would have told big shot chili’s manager man just that…One thought from my head would blow his apart. Thank you drunken flying companion…wherever you are.
So, he finally got off my case and I was furious…ready to cancel my orders and leave…except for the fact that a Q of Sam, icy fresh from the tap was sitting before me…and, well…I wasn’t quite THAT angry to waste the precious beverage. It wasn’t Sam’s fault Chili’s manager man and waitress bitch were so horrific. I drank my delicious beverage, went to great lenghts to order a second and while contemplating how it would affect my Karma if I were to tip 2 cents, a memory shot into the forefront of my mind.
When I was a young child…maybe about seven or eight years old, my mother worked for our dr as an assistant. The receptionist who worked there, Stacy, soon became friends with my mother and would take me out for happy meals and such. I loved Stacy. She was like a big sister to me. I think she was the first woman I ever really looked up to, and as far as I can remember, she was the first big boob I ever laid eyes on. I still remember that cold, april morning. All that aside, I remembered in particular a day that we all went to TGIFriday’s in Warner Center. We had some little Asian affair for a waitress, and she was monumentally inattentive. We ended up getting our own drinks from the fountain and I don’t even remember the food situation, but it wasn’t good. When she came to the table when we were ready for our bill, Stacy took her hand and said, “Honey, you are a terrible waitress. You need to either pull your head out of your ass or get another job, because my conscience is the only thing stopping me from stiffing you right now”. I don’t remember what came of any of this…all I remember is little girl laughter and tears streaming down my cheeks. I loved Stacy.
So, with a newfound smile on my face and check in hand I spoke to new waitress woman. “Why are you being such a bitch to me?”
She stumbled out an apology and asked why I thought that and I told her, “I understand you doing your job, and I understand if you have some stupid policy about having the manager look at my out-of-state ID, but what I don’t understand is why you are being such a bitch to me.”
She said something about me looking young and policy and all that crap. But I told her, hopefully in the spirit of Stacy that she was a bitch and she is damned lucky that I am a nice girl and will not giver her my 2 cents even though I have a mind to.
I walked home warm and full of liquor as I talked to my delicious fruit who is entirely too far away. I am now drinking a soda and eating a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie from the lobbly…wearing only my longjohns and a bra. I love calling them longjohns. Technically they’re thermal underwear…but it reminds me again of my childhood. Papo would be wearing a white pair and laugh to himself when he called them looooongjohns. I thought he was just being stupid at the time…but, as I wear my navy thermals now, I laugh as I realize that his name was John and he was being a dirty old man.

If one could literally freeze their ass off, the streets of Chicago would be lined with disembodied buttocks. I always try to butch it out when I go somewhere with very different weather than what I’m used to, but 26 degrees is just cold no matter where you’re from. I have been bundling up on the verge of embarassing for my short walk to and from the hotel. It’s just far enough to swear about it but too close to get a ride. I can use the exercise, but if it snows, I might just have to draw the line. The heater has been going off and on all night. I can’t make up my mind and the damned thing only belches out hot air continuosly. The low setting is pretty high as it is. I’ve only been here a day, but this trip feels different than the other business trips I’ve been on in the past. It’s been three years since I’ve been on one, so I would like to think that I’ve grown up since Salt Lake City. On the plane I was thinking how unlikely it is that I found the love of my life in Utah. In some way, I felt like I was seeking her out, even though my conscious mind was continuously reminding me that I was already in a long term relationship. For a very long time, I had been filled with restlessness…and finding my Fruit made all of that make sense. This time, the only cheating I’ve done has been on my diet…and the wandering glances I’ve had have been at babies and children. I have been noticing them more and more, and longing to start a family of our own.
I was socializing at work quite a bit last week. We had a training class for our users and I was one of the instructor/coordinators. On Friday, I went out for a Guinness with one of the Social Work managers and she was going on and on about how the desire for her to have a child hit suddenly and out of the blue…and how she would rethink having children if she had the chance. I had heard a lot of that during that week in particular…and I couldn’t help but wonder why. It seems to me that it’s another greener grass scenario. Looking back on one’s life, I could see how you would want to live it both ways if you could. She asked me if I want to have children, and what I think I could possibly give them if I did. It kind of caught me off guard…like I was being tested somehow. What could anyone give a child, really? All I can think of, as corny as it sounds is unconditional, unwavering love and encouragement. Whether my parents had been smart, stupid, rich or poor, if they had given me those two things I think I would have been a very happy and well adjusted child. In the scheme of things, I don’t think that it’s important to have the best career or most money. I don’t want to live for those kinds of accomplishments. I want to live for my family and children. I want to better myself and never stop learning and growing. I don’t want to be jaded yet. Maybe I’m still just a naive child, but, I don’t want to have to live like that. What good would it do to focus on all of the ills of the world when I could put a little effort into seeking the opposite?
It’s late…and I’m very tired. Rambling tired. The bitter cold is seeping in through the window and my feet are starting to go numb. It’s only night number two, and I am so very ready to go home.

I have been listening to the new JLP in my car for the past few weeks. The remix/retake on the songs that spoke to me so strongly just ten years ago have taken on a whole new life in my world now. I realized as I was singing All I Really Want at the top of my lungs that there is now an inaccuracy in the lyrics…an inaccuracy for me, anyway. “All I really want is some patience…a way to calm the angry voice”. I know that angry voice all too well. It has plagued me for as long as I can remember…and it occurred to me that I have received the patience I used to pray for…and the angry voice has not gone anywhere. The voice still yells, screams, rants and raves. I think the difference…the difference that comes with age…is that the voice just gets tired…and I am all the more equipped to ignore it.