Today marks one year since I started Sunscreen. And although this blog has proved to be invaluable to myself and the process of redefining my life, it's time for it to come to an end. Although I considered myself to be rehabilitated awhile back, I decided to keep going. Physical therapy per se, but the time has come to bask in the warmth that life has to offer.
Don't fret my fellow sun bathers. I have decided to start a new blog, specifically for the new chapter in my life. The name of which I took from one of my favorite Five for Fighting songs.
Thanks to all of you who stuck with me this year, and here's to another!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Penny for Your Thoughts
This weekend I had a lot of time to myself. Saturday, I got up and went for a run. Just like the first run of the season to show you just how out of shape you are. Although, in my defense, I do live in a hole, so it literally is uphill, both ways.
Anywho. On my way back, I decided to take a detour and ran into the neighbor next to mind that has a direct trail down into the lofts. I climbed down the hill, and started walking down the nature paths. I then sat upon a rock that borders river and just sat. I was thinking about my past year, what is going on now and the fact that soon I am going to have to bunker down and make a major decision. This truly is the turning point of my life. While I was out there, Sarah S. called and I told her what I was up, we discussed it for a while. Then, as if my brain had sent out some cosmic message, my mother called.
I discussed with her the same things that were bothering me. Then, she went into freak out mode. Then, once more, I had to explain to her that things are different. There is a major generation gap between she and I. I told her to not compare her life to mine. When she was my age, she had been married for eight years and had two children. I had to explain to her that people are starting their lives later now, and not that I am acting adolescent or refusing to take the steps forward, but that I am still young. I have only been living out on my own for 7 years. Life takes a while to get use to before you can just jump in and take the reigns.
After getting off the phone with her, I scaled the cliff that is out on the trail. While I was up there, I happened to look down and found a penny. It seems someone else was thinking about me too.
Anywho. On my way back, I decided to take a detour and ran into the neighbor next to mind that has a direct trail down into the lofts. I climbed down the hill, and started walking down the nature paths. I then sat upon a rock that borders river and just sat. I was thinking about my past year, what is going on now and the fact that soon I am going to have to bunker down and make a major decision. This truly is the turning point of my life. While I was out there, Sarah S. called and I told her what I was up, we discussed it for a while. Then, as if my brain had sent out some cosmic message, my mother called.
I discussed with her the same things that were bothering me. Then, she went into freak out mode. Then, once more, I had to explain to her that things are different. There is a major generation gap between she and I. I told her to not compare her life to mine. When she was my age, she had been married for eight years and had two children. I had to explain to her that people are starting their lives later now, and not that I am acting adolescent or refusing to take the steps forward, but that I am still young. I have only been living out on my own for 7 years. Life takes a while to get use to before you can just jump in and take the reigns.
After getting off the phone with her, I scaled the cliff that is out on the trail. While I was up there, I happened to look down and found a penny. It seems someone else was thinking about me too.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
A Year With Me
Happy anniversary to myself! This weekend marks the weekend that I became free. I may not have noticed it nor wanted it at the time, but I am so thankful that it happened.
Today marks the day that I turned away and kept going. I can't lie and say that I didn't look back from time to time, specifically recalling the happier moments, but I always knew that I was better off. I didn't let a bad situation get the best of me and I certainly didn't let it hold me back.
I want to say thanks to everyone over the past year for their support, encouragement, and most importantly their friendship. This past summer would have been truly difficult without you all. The trips to the lake, Harry Potter, the pool, numerous baseball games, sushi, etc.
I needed to start putting myself first, for once, and I have.
Here's to another great year!
Today marks the day that I turned away and kept going. I can't lie and say that I didn't look back from time to time, specifically recalling the happier moments, but I always knew that I was better off. I didn't let a bad situation get the best of me and I certainly didn't let it hold me back.
I want to say thanks to everyone over the past year for their support, encouragement, and most importantly their friendship. This past summer would have been truly difficult without you all. The trips to the lake, Harry Potter, the pool, numerous baseball games, sushi, etc.
I needed to start putting myself first, for once, and I have.
Here's to another great year!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
What's that noise?
I was the first in the in office this morning, or at least up stairs anyhow. As I am putting my key into the door, I hear this loud buzzing. "What is that?" As I open the door, the alarm is going off. Here's the really odd part... we don't have an alarm! [pause for reaction]
So, I come in, place my things down on my desk, buzz Jacki, and then stare at the little square device that has never, never been activated since I have been here. I start pressing buttons like nothing else. Then Jacki starts pressing buttons like no one else, then I yank the damn thing off the wall. I then grab a screwdriver... don't worry, I didn't do it. I thought about it though, but the idea of death by electrocution stopped me.
Finally our maintenance man, Josh, came in. Flipped the breaker, after finding the right one. Then he left. About a few minutes later, I asked Christine when he was going to turn it off. "It is off."
"Then what is that noise?" After coming to my side of the desk, she heard it too. It sounds exactly like the alarm. Josh came back, heard it, and explained that it was the lights. He couldn't believe that I could hear it, and then I had to inform him of my unusual ears.
I have an odd sense of deafness. There are certain frequencies that I cannot hear. If you whisper around me or talk in a low voice, I won't know what you are saying. However, high pitches are my specialty.
When I was a kid, and of course growing up in the country, we had a lot of those "plug in" pests things. They make a high pitch sound that drive mice and other critters away. I could here them. I am not kidding. I was in the kitchen one day with my mom, and I asked her what that noise was. She had no idea of what I was talking about. So, I got up and started walking around the room trying to locate the source of my sound. Bingo, pests "plug in." She took me to the doctor the next day.
So, I come in, place my things down on my desk, buzz Jacki, and then stare at the little square device that has never, never been activated since I have been here. I start pressing buttons like nothing else. Then Jacki starts pressing buttons like no one else, then I yank the damn thing off the wall. I then grab a screwdriver... don't worry, I didn't do it. I thought about it though, but the idea of death by electrocution stopped me.
Finally our maintenance man, Josh, came in. Flipped the breaker, after finding the right one. Then he left. About a few minutes later, I asked Christine when he was going to turn it off. "It is off."
"Then what is that noise?" After coming to my side of the desk, she heard it too. It sounds exactly like the alarm. Josh came back, heard it, and explained that it was the lights. He couldn't believe that I could hear it, and then I had to inform him of my unusual ears.
I have an odd sense of deafness. There are certain frequencies that I cannot hear. If you whisper around me or talk in a low voice, I won't know what you are saying. However, high pitches are my specialty.
When I was a kid, and of course growing up in the country, we had a lot of those "plug in" pests things. They make a high pitch sound that drive mice and other critters away. I could here them. I am not kidding. I was in the kitchen one day with my mom, and I asked her what that noise was. She had no idea of what I was talking about. So, I got up and started walking around the room trying to locate the source of my sound. Bingo, pests "plug in." She took me to the doctor the next day.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Ending on a high note
Last night was the first time in a while that I stayed at the gym for a full hour and did a complete workout. Cardio and all. My schedule has just been so busy lately. Plus, the added bonus that I am still sleep deprived and lacking some serious energy.
I got to the gym, learned that Wednesday is by far the busiest day there, and had to search high and low for a locker. Finally, a girl standing on the other side from me said, "There's one here." I rushed over there and thanked her. It always shocks me when someone does something nice for complete strangers.
Moving on. I changed, grabbed my stuff, refilled my water bottle and hopped on the first treadmill I came to. Following warm up, the aerobic room was jam packed, but I found a floor matt and went for it. Unfortunately all the 12 pound medicine balls were taken, so I was forced to grab the 15 lb. medicine ball. I was actually impressed with myself, and I will probably continue to use it in the future.
Then I did a portion of the workout that my trainer and I had done together last Friday. I hurt, but not nearly as bad as I had that day. Then I jumped on the elliptical for 30 minutes with the cross ramp at its max. All my old favs came on pandora. The best part, my favorite song came on as I was running my last two minutes. Great night, if I say so myself. Although, it did nothing for the fact that I am still beat from this weekend.
For this upcoming weekend, my top priority is sleep.
I got to the gym, learned that Wednesday is by far the busiest day there, and had to search high and low for a locker. Finally, a girl standing on the other side from me said, "There's one here." I rushed over there and thanked her. It always shocks me when someone does something nice for complete strangers.
Moving on. I changed, grabbed my stuff, refilled my water bottle and hopped on the first treadmill I came to. Following warm up, the aerobic room was jam packed, but I found a floor matt and went for it. Unfortunately all the 12 pound medicine balls were taken, so I was forced to grab the 15 lb. medicine ball. I was actually impressed with myself, and I will probably continue to use it in the future.
Then I did a portion of the workout that my trainer and I had done together last Friday. I hurt, but not nearly as bad as I had that day. Then I jumped on the elliptical for 30 minutes with the cross ramp at its max. All my old favs came on pandora. The best part, my favorite song came on as I was running my last two minutes. Great night, if I say so myself. Although, it did nothing for the fact that I am still beat from this weekend.
For this upcoming weekend, my top priority is sleep.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Officially Monday
Last night was probably the best sleep that I have gotten in a long, long while. Apparently the secret is to get absolutely no sleep on Saturday night, get a 30 minute nap on Sunday afternoon, and pound your alarm 60 times the following morning. Needless to say, I dragged my butt into work this morning.
Saturday, Billy came over around 2:00. We had lunch, got our items, purchased probane for the grill, and then sat on the wall by the river drinking Corona while the burgers marinated. How can you beat that? It was an awesome way to spend an afternoon if you ask me.
Five rolled around and people started to show up. I had Sarah N., Sarah S. and Nhut in the kitchen cutting and seasoning potato wedges, and Darrin on the grill with the burgers and hot dogs. If you come to my house, expect to work. No free rides here.
Anywho. After that Mel, Billy, Darrin and I, decided to hit up down town. First stop of the night, Buddha. I had to get my bomb, had to, and it was delicious. Then we went over to 9d's since no one other than me had been there. They played songs that I had; (1) not thought of in forever; and (2) shockingly remembered all the words to. Then we headed over to see Hugh, who apparently doesn't work there anymore!?! I asked Paul what happened and he said that Hugh and his wife had split and that she still comes in the bar. Awkward to say the least.
After an afternoon of the Hangover, relaxing and a nap, Darrin had to make his drive home. (Insert sad face). Then Billy and Dustin came over, had their Burger King, which I may have gotten a few fries from, and then I went to bed while Billy crashed on the couch. This morning, I couldn't get him to budge. So I left him the key and, again, dragged myself to work. I still got here early though. As an added bonus, the Girl Scout cookies that I order from my boss were on my desk. Yum!
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| I had completely forgotten about this picture until Mel sent it. Cheese! |
So, what happened this weekend? Cookout!
We decided to have a cookout for one of Billy's friends. It was her birthday the weekend before, and she had not celebrated it. So, Billy asked if they could stay, and I granted his request. Friday, they were suppose to come into town, but didn't. So, I went along and had my personal training session (which I am still in pain from), went to Wal-mart for some items including pillows for my guest, and then went home and finished cleaning. Later that night, I got a text from Billy...Maria wasn't coming. Too bad, on with the party!
Saturday, Billy came over around 2:00. We had lunch, got our items, purchased probane for the grill, and then sat on the wall by the river drinking Corona while the burgers marinated. How can you beat that? It was an awesome way to spend an afternoon if you ask me.
Five rolled around and people started to show up. I had Sarah N., Sarah S. and Nhut in the kitchen cutting and seasoning potato wedges, and Darrin on the grill with the burgers and hot dogs. If you come to my house, expect to work. No free rides here.
After we ate, and had some of Melanie's muffins that she made for us (I love that woman!) we all grabbed chairs and sat out by the river drinking and shooting the breeze. Then Chris (Melaine's husband) came out to walk their new Dalmatian puppy. The girls went nuts and ran over there and played with her. Ena, the pup, got scared and hid. Poor little girl. The funny thing is that she and Mo have made great friends. They actually play together. It is the cutest thing.
Oh well, off to 8e's. It was a great time there. We danced, and danced, and danced some more. Then, Darrin and I couldn't find Billy, and apparently because he had snuck off the bar next door to use the restroom and ran into Junior. So, we headed over there and visited with him for a bit.
Finally, it was time to grab a cab. That was an interesting ride. The girl sitting in the front seat was telling guys off walking down the street. Two girls in the back seat sitting next to Billy passed out. All the girls had dropped and lost their phones under the seats, so we were using our phones and a flashlight to dig them out.
Finally we made it home where Chandler came and picked up Billy, because apparently their night wasn't over yet. The next morning though, Darrin and I picked him up at Dustin's, which I don't think Billy really remembers how he got over there. Dustin, Billy, Darrin and I then headed over to Transmet for a little pizza and topped it off with yogurt from Yoguri. In there they have little factoids on the wall and I had no idea that you could use yogurt rather than mayo. Learn something new everyday.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Methodical Me
While in class, our professor constantly pushes the importance of being methodical when taking cases on. From the initial interview and throughout the entire litigation process.
Now, this professor I have had for several classes. I originally couldn't stand her. I first took her legal research class. She scared me to death! I would spend hours, hours on end in the library following class trying to complete the assignments. This was a night class mind you, so I wouldn't get home until about 10 or 11. She would usually, and still does, put me on the spot because I work at a firm. She would ask me questions, and I would usually give the correct response. However, one particular comment has stuck in my mind for the last year or so, even though we have kind of, sort of bonded. "Yes, Meredith, that is correct, but your approach is completely backwards."
This feedback rang true just a few weeks ago. We were discussing the initial client interview and she was explaining the importance of the funnel method. Ask open ended questions, and slowly, and methodically, fine tune them down the funnel. However, my brain works, as she said, completely backwards. That's right, instead of a funnel, I have a cone. I'd rather ask specific questions, determine whether there is a valid claim, and then elaborate more for the "narrative" of the situation.
My brain is methodical in that I can see the end result that I want, but rather I work backwards to eventually find out what my first steps should be. Does anyone else have this problem, or is it really just me?
Now, this professor I have had for several classes. I originally couldn't stand her. I first took her legal research class. She scared me to death! I would spend hours, hours on end in the library following class trying to complete the assignments. This was a night class mind you, so I wouldn't get home until about 10 or 11. She would usually, and still does, put me on the spot because I work at a firm. She would ask me questions, and I would usually give the correct response. However, one particular comment has stuck in my mind for the last year or so, even though we have kind of, sort of bonded. "Yes, Meredith, that is correct, but your approach is completely backwards."
This feedback rang true just a few weeks ago. We were discussing the initial client interview and she was explaining the importance of the funnel method. Ask open ended questions, and slowly, and methodically, fine tune them down the funnel. However, my brain works, as she said, completely backwards. That's right, instead of a funnel, I have a cone. I'd rather ask specific questions, determine whether there is a valid claim, and then elaborate more for the "narrative" of the situation.
My brain is methodical in that I can see the end result that I want, but rather I work backwards to eventually find out what my first steps should be. Does anyone else have this problem, or is it really just me?
Childhood Glimpse
I was making numerous copies the other day for production which seemed like it took hours on end. It probably was close to an hour actually. While I was feeding the documents into the scanner, I noticed a plethora of discarded staples on the carpet. I then proceeded to bend down and pick them up and place them into the trash. During this task, I had a flashback of my childhood.
I remember that when I was little, and I still kind of do it today, I would walk around staring at the ground. If I happened to spot something that I knew would present an issue, I grabbed it. An issue for what?
My chore was vacuuming, among other things. (Now you understand why I hate it so much and have since bought a robot for it). Every time that I would pull our dinosaur/Frankenstein monstrosity out my dad was sure to intervene. If the appliance made a noise other than its regular hum that his ear was so finely tuned to, he would immediately stop me. He would then, in the middle of the floor, take the entire appliance apart and pull the blockage out and dump it all over the floor. It was because of this that I would always wait until he either left the room or left the house, before even thinking about cleaning the carpets.
The worse part is, I have picked this trait up. A few weeks ago I was cleaning the upstairs of my loft. I keep roomba downstairs since it sees the most traffic and I have no problem just setting him lose. The upstairs however, is where I keep the upright. I was try to get at some of the cob webs that collect in the corners when I noticed that the hose was lacking in suction. So, I ripped the thing open, shoved my hand up its bowels, and pulled all kinds of wads of Mere and Mo hair out. Ewwww.
To make matters worse, apparently the vacuum had been clogged for a really long time I started pulling things out of there from when I cleaned the garage at my last house. Paper clips, safety pins, metal splinters. Not fun to say the least.
So, there it is. No matter how hard we try, we do eventually, become our parents. (Insert horror movie scream here).
I remember that when I was little, and I still kind of do it today, I would walk around staring at the ground. If I happened to spot something that I knew would present an issue, I grabbed it. An issue for what?
My chore was vacuuming, among other things. (Now you understand why I hate it so much and have since bought a robot for it). Every time that I would pull our dinosaur/Frankenstein monstrosity out my dad was sure to intervene. If the appliance made a noise other than its regular hum that his ear was so finely tuned to, he would immediately stop me. He would then, in the middle of the floor, take the entire appliance apart and pull the blockage out and dump it all over the floor. It was because of this that I would always wait until he either left the room or left the house, before even thinking about cleaning the carpets.
The worse part is, I have picked this trait up. A few weeks ago I was cleaning the upstairs of my loft. I keep roomba downstairs since it sees the most traffic and I have no problem just setting him lose. The upstairs however, is where I keep the upright. I was try to get at some of the cob webs that collect in the corners when I noticed that the hose was lacking in suction. So, I ripped the thing open, shoved my hand up its bowels, and pulled all kinds of wads of Mere and Mo hair out. Ewwww.
To make matters worse, apparently the vacuum had been clogged for a really long time I started pulling things out of there from when I cleaned the garage at my last house. Paper clips, safety pins, metal splinters. Not fun to say the least.
So, there it is. No matter how hard we try, we do eventually, become our parents. (Insert horror movie scream here).
Friday, February 11, 2011
Proof that I am not alone...
I was checking out my normal blogs and found something just for me. Y'all know that I am not the sappy, sap, syrupy type. (Going to be sick, bluh.)
Anywho, I found this at How About Orange.
There were some really cute other ideas for some V-day Love, and if I were a more warm and fuzzy kind of person, I would consider it.
Anywho, I found this at How About Orange.
There were some really cute other ideas for some V-day Love, and if I were a more warm and fuzzy kind of person, I would consider it.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Man Up
I have often said that I hate it when I man refuses to act like... a man. This has been the biggest issue I have faced in "getting out there."
Sarah and Katie had a person picked out for me that had been deemed worthy. Shortly thereafter, Sarah informed me that this individual was no longer a proper candidate. Apparently there were certain parts of his past that he had been keeping from his friends. The guy had a prior DUI which no one had known about, that is, until he received his second a few months ago. I can kind of sort of, if I stretch it a bit, put past the first DUI in the thinking that he was just a kid and perhaps he had learned his lesson. But a second, who is dumb enough to get a second, a second DUI?
I have learned as of last night that Katie and Sarah have picked out another. While telling me all about this supposed man, Alex (Katie's hub) brought a picture up on his phone for me. We shall see what happens with this one. In addition, Frannie has been on the hot pursuit of her future BIL. Every so often I will get a call, "I've met this guy that would be perfect for you. I like him better than the last one."
Then there is a guy that I have been friends with forever. I mean forever. He is the sweetest guy you will ever meet. Very respectful of others, yada, yada, yada. His major downfall... I am more of a man than he is. He is far too sensitive. Now, I do understand that I am going to need someone that can complete my "yin" or "yang," that is, pick up where I leave off in the emotions department. I will admit that I am a harsh person at times with impossible standards. However, I have always said that I never expect others to to do something that I couldn't do myself.
But, is it too much to ask a man to "MAN UP?" I don't think that this should be an impossible task. When Frannie met her husband, it was six months following Tara's death. He basically had to "deal" with it the moment that he met her. A guy I dated once told me that it was too much drama for him. So, basically he was telling me that I was a better man than him when I was 15, when Tara died, than he was in his adulthood. Wow!
Its because of this that I get so discouraged. I hate it when I go out with high, optimistic, expectations, and get sadly sort changed.
Sarah and Katie had a person picked out for me that had been deemed worthy. Shortly thereafter, Sarah informed me that this individual was no longer a proper candidate. Apparently there were certain parts of his past that he had been keeping from his friends. The guy had a prior DUI which no one had known about, that is, until he received his second a few months ago. I can kind of sort of, if I stretch it a bit, put past the first DUI in the thinking that he was just a kid and perhaps he had learned his lesson. But a second, who is dumb enough to get a second, a second DUI?
I have learned as of last night that Katie and Sarah have picked out another. While telling me all about this supposed man, Alex (Katie's hub) brought a picture up on his phone for me. We shall see what happens with this one. In addition, Frannie has been on the hot pursuit of her future BIL. Every so often I will get a call, "I've met this guy that would be perfect for you. I like him better than the last one."
Then there is a guy that I have been friends with forever. I mean forever. He is the sweetest guy you will ever meet. Very respectful of others, yada, yada, yada. His major downfall... I am more of a man than he is. He is far too sensitive. Now, I do understand that I am going to need someone that can complete my "yin" or "yang," that is, pick up where I leave off in the emotions department. I will admit that I am a harsh person at times with impossible standards. However, I have always said that I never expect others to to do something that I couldn't do myself.
But, is it too much to ask a man to "MAN UP?" I don't think that this should be an impossible task. When Frannie met her husband, it was six months following Tara's death. He basically had to "deal" with it the moment that he met her. A guy I dated once told me that it was too much drama for him. So, basically he was telling me that I was a better man than him when I was 15, when Tara died, than he was in his adulthood. Wow!
Its because of this that I get so discouraged. I hate it when I go out with high, optimistic, expectations, and get sadly sort changed.
What does that say?
Sundays are usually, as probably with most, my relaxation day. The day to recoup from the weekend and to get geared up for the coming week. Its the day I get to sleep in, do laundry, cook breakfast for myself, and go to the gym. Normally there will be a movie playing in the background simply for some noise.
Today, while going about my normal routine I decided that I was hungry, but not enough for a full on meal. Snack time. So, I grabbed a banana and some fruit juice. While enjoying my treat, it dawned on me. I have no conventional snacks in my house. Last weekend, Billy stayed with me and stayed at my house while I went to work on Sunday afternoon and he just watched movies. When I got home, he was starving. I felt terrible. And I know that it is because he was sitting there, probably scouring my kitchen and pantry and found no, absolutely no, snacks.
What does that say about someone? All I have in my fridge are the ingredients for various meals, meats, juice, and cheese. That's it. I have no cookies, no cheese-itz, no candy bars, nada. I do have an unopened bag of chips leftover from a tailgate that I should probably throw away, but that's it. Bananas, cheese and crackers are the only things that would even remotely come close to "snacks." Further, my absolutely favorite "snack" of mine is probably celery and peanut butter.
Does that mean that I am utterly boring... or ultra health conscious?
Today, while going about my normal routine I decided that I was hungry, but not enough for a full on meal. Snack time. So, I grabbed a banana and some fruit juice. While enjoying my treat, it dawned on me. I have no conventional snacks in my house. Last weekend, Billy stayed with me and stayed at my house while I went to work on Sunday afternoon and he just watched movies. When I got home, he was starving. I felt terrible. And I know that it is because he was sitting there, probably scouring my kitchen and pantry and found no, absolutely no, snacks.
What does that say about someone? All I have in my fridge are the ingredients for various meals, meats, juice, and cheese. That's it. I have no cookies, no cheese-itz, no candy bars, nada. I do have an unopened bag of chips leftover from a tailgate that I should probably throw away, but that's it. Bananas, cheese and crackers are the only things that would even remotely come close to "snacks." Further, my absolutely favorite "snack" of mine is probably celery and peanut butter.
Does that mean that I am utterly boring... or ultra health conscious?
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Um... There is no adequate explanation.
The last few days, I have been experiencing the oddest dreams. A few nights back, I dreamt that I had the cutest baby alive. The cutest. If that wasn't enough, he was super smart and did the funniest things. The odd part, aside from the thought of me having children, was that the father was someone that while I knew him, I could never, and I mean never picture myself having children with him. We would talk about, names, he would do the usual freak out, we're not ready for that, but all the while, I honestly couldn't picture it. So why is it that I am able to dream it, particularly now since this person has neither been a part of my life nor I have communicated with him in the longest time?
Then, last night, I had a dream that I died. That's right, I died, but not alone. I took someone with me. Oddly enough, me and the person from the previous dream had gotten into an altercation. I screamed my head off and then passed out. While falling to the ground, I hit something or my head did at least, and I died. I have no idea how he died, but trust me, he did.
What's stranger, is that I came back. I was a phantom and I was visiting my mother, like nothing was peculiar about that. I asked her what happened and she told me that I had fainted due to a syndrome. Apparently my subconscious mind creates new syndromes and names them. Its too funny. Then, I decided to see how this other person had died and tried to find him. Where did I? In hell. My mind had permanently condemned him to hell. A hell where all you do is make license plates.
The really disappointing thing is that when the dream was reaching its climax, in both instances, I woke up. When all was about to be revealed, and that it would all (hopefully) come together and make perfect sense, I woke up. I WOKE UP! Its the most inconvenient clock work; right at 3:00 am my eyes flew open.
Its like the Sandman from hell comes and visits me on a regular basis and broke my internal clock just for kicks and giggles.
Then, last night, I had a dream that I died. That's right, I died, but not alone. I took someone with me. Oddly enough, me and the person from the previous dream had gotten into an altercation. I screamed my head off and then passed out. While falling to the ground, I hit something or my head did at least, and I died. I have no idea how he died, but trust me, he did.
What's stranger, is that I came back. I was a phantom and I was visiting my mother, like nothing was peculiar about that. I asked her what happened and she told me that I had fainted due to a syndrome. Apparently my subconscious mind creates new syndromes and names them. Its too funny. Then, I decided to see how this other person had died and tried to find him. Where did I? In hell. My mind had permanently condemned him to hell. A hell where all you do is make license plates.
The really disappointing thing is that when the dream was reaching its climax, in both instances, I woke up. When all was about to be revealed, and that it would all (hopefully) come together and make perfect sense, I woke up. I WOKE UP! Its the most inconvenient clock work; right at 3:00 am my eyes flew open.
Its like the Sandman from hell comes and visits me on a regular basis and broke my internal clock just for kicks and giggles.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Double Edged Sword
Last night in class, I hit a mental blockade. Something that I would have never thought would be an issue. My job is interfering with school. Now I know what you are saying: "But Mere, you are in school to learn what you already do." And you would be right. However, because I am so in tune with my job, one simple assignment is proving to be near impossible.
I have to draft a complaint. A routine task I use to do at my prior place of employment. I understand the importance of drafting a tight, no "extras," complaint. A complaint that will produce either an admission or clear denial. No wishy washy, "no knowledge sufficient" denials (fyi: they basically serve as the legal "foul ball.") I understand the purpose being so that if you receive a clear denial you can later nail them in the interrogatories. "Please set forth all facts which form the basis of you denial..."
Here is my problem... Because I have been working for a firm that specializes in civil defense, I have a hard time writing a tight complaint. My immediate thought is, "I can't put that in there. There is no wiggle room for the Defendant. How are they going to get out of that one?" I know that this is probably a bonus; that I could take my hesitations and flip them into a checklist per se. However, I have been at my job for so long now, that its against my programming. That's right, I am programed to provide you with little to no definite answers. If you want a straight forward, "Why did you" answer, you will not get it from me. Or at least not in writing.
I am trying to face this as a challenge. That after I write this "bear trap" pleading, I will have to really push myself to come up with some valid defenses for my Answer. Do a complete nose dive into OCGA and Brown's. Watch out law library, I am about to set up camp.
P.S. To my fellow P/L students... I actually used the word "conflate" in a depo index yesterday. Woot!
Formal UPL Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, form, nor fashion providing or soliciting to the readers of Wear Sunscreen legal advice. This is simply a restatement of personal experiences in connection with a completely fictitious matter that has no real bearing on anyone or thing (except my GPA).
I have to draft a complaint. A routine task I use to do at my prior place of employment. I understand the importance of drafting a tight, no "extras," complaint. A complaint that will produce either an admission or clear denial. No wishy washy, "no knowledge sufficient" denials (fyi: they basically serve as the legal "foul ball.") I understand the purpose being so that if you receive a clear denial you can later nail them in the interrogatories. "Please set forth all facts which form the basis of you denial..."
Here is my problem... Because I have been working for a firm that specializes in civil defense, I have a hard time writing a tight complaint. My immediate thought is, "I can't put that in there. There is no wiggle room for the Defendant. How are they going to get out of that one?" I know that this is probably a bonus; that I could take my hesitations and flip them into a checklist per se. However, I have been at my job for so long now, that its against my programming. That's right, I am programed to provide you with little to no definite answers. If you want a straight forward, "Why did you" answer, you will not get it from me. Or at least not in writing.
I am trying to face this as a challenge. That after I write this "bear trap" pleading, I will have to really push myself to come up with some valid defenses for my Answer. Do a complete nose dive into OCGA and Brown's. Watch out law library, I am about to set up camp.
P.S. To my fellow P/L students... I actually used the word "conflate" in a depo index yesterday. Woot!
Formal UPL Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, form, nor fashion providing or soliciting to the readers of Wear Sunscreen legal advice. This is simply a restatement of personal experiences in connection with a completely fictitious matter that has no real bearing on anyone or thing (except my GPA).
Friday, January 28, 2011
Day of the "F" Bomb
This morning was the first in probably 1 1/2 years. I slept in... unintentionally that is. My alarm either didn't go off or it did and gave up. I woke this morning to the sound of my phone ringing. My first thought was, "Who would be calling me at this hour?" followed by, "Why is the sun out so early?" As I walked over to my dresser to grab the device, I caught a glance of those demontic little red numbers.
I answered the phone with the loudest f-bomb I have ever utter... in my life! Don't worry, I knew who it was calling me. Jacki apparently was experiencing the same type of morning. Her son forgot his coat, then when she got to the school to hand it over, he informed her that, in addition to his coat, also forgot his homework. Take two.
I haven't felt that rush of panic searing through my entire body in so long. I was impressed with myself though. I got here in time to open the office. However, troubles were still on the horizon.
After about an hour or two, while still working on this statement of material facts, I get a call from Andrea stating that her brief was eating itself. "I'm not kidding!" I immediately hung up the phone and made a mad dash down the stairs. I believe I was actually airborne for the entire trip down. I ran into her office and there it was, chomping away at itself. In absolute panic and seeing the look on her face, I reacted. I can't remember what I did, but I fixed it.
Hopefully, this day will go without any more f-bombs or absolute disasters.
I answered the phone with the loudest f-bomb I have ever utter... in my life! Don't worry, I knew who it was calling me. Jacki apparently was experiencing the same type of morning. Her son forgot his coat, then when she got to the school to hand it over, he informed her that, in addition to his coat, also forgot his homework. Take two.
I haven't felt that rush of panic searing through my entire body in so long. I was impressed with myself though. I got here in time to open the office. However, troubles were still on the horizon.
After about an hour or two, while still working on this statement of material facts, I get a call from Andrea stating that her brief was eating itself. "I'm not kidding!" I immediately hung up the phone and made a mad dash down the stairs. I believe I was actually airborne for the entire trip down. I ran into her office and there it was, chomping away at itself. In absolute panic and seeing the look on her face, I reacted. I can't remember what I did, but I fixed it.
Hopefully, this day will go without any more f-bombs or absolute disasters.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Wake up, wake up, wake up!
Some have wondered over the years why it is that I am such a proficient napper. Granted I was depressed, but when Sarah I first moved here together, I would come home every day from work and take a two hour nap. Now, I know what you are saying... That's not a nap, that is sleep, and you are right.
My parents have always had this running joke that nothing could possibly ever wake me. "Mere could sleep through a train wreck, and if she were on the train." Its true. I have slept through fire alarms, midnight surgeries while staying with my mom in the hospital (that's her favorite story), but there is one thing that I always wake from...me. I will wake in the middle of the night, sometimes from the best dreams, and cannot get myself back to sleep. That is why I think I have the ability to fall asleep quickly. Its because my body knows that it needs to get in what it can because four hours from then, I won't be able to.
I never quiet understood it, that is until I was talking with my uncles this past weekend. We were talking during the family gathering at my Aunt Wanda's house. I haven't seen my uncles in a really, really long time. But I started noticing that they both are in fact, insomniacs. I had often wondered why my Uncle Kerry would post on facebook at 2 or 3 in the morning. Apparently he never sleeps.
My Uncle Richard by far had it the worst. As told by him, his parents (my grandparents) would have to lock in him in his room at night for bed time and let the child scream. He couldn't go to sleep and so he would scream and scream. The doctor advised them not to give in because otherwise he would develop the habit. Eventually he stopped and he learned to stay in there until he was able to fall asleep, however short lived it was.
Well, what inspired this post was the fact that last night, and several of the nights during this month and this past summer, I have woken and stayed up for hours. Just a few weeks ago, I woke at 3:00 am and could not get myself back to sleep. That was probably the longest day of my life. However, back in August, after a night out on the town with Sarah S., I found myself falling asleep at 3:00 only to wake at 5:00. No matter what I tried, nothing worked. Staring at the clock only seemed to make time stop all together.
In addition, last night, although still tired and sore from my personal training, I woke with my muscles hurting and I could not find a comfortable position. I tossed and I turned. I beat my pillows beyond recognition, and folded them over into pillow-gami. Eventually, even Mo got frustrated with me and when I finally crawled out of bed, admitting defeat, I found him asleep on the couch.
So, why is it that now in my adulthood I have just developed this plague that haunts my ENTIRE family? Why now? Why?
Monday, January 24, 2011
Revenge?
I can't remember if it was this morning or last night, but someone on the radio was polling their audience to find out what the craziest thing their listeners had done in the name of vengeance. I started to think back on my past relationships and determined that I am a pretty fair individual. Granted, when in the heat of battle, I can and will, scream my head off until all the blood has rushed to my brain and it explodes. I have to admit that I was appalled, and by appalled I mean laughing, at what others were calling in and confessing.
I have never burned, sold, destroyed or sabotaged another's property nor their person. Takes way too much effort. The worst thing I think I have done...Once I did the dumping; he and my pervious ex would not stop calling me, so to kill two birds with one stone, I changed my number. That's it. Call me Ms. Passive Aggressive.
Most say, "Don't get back, get even." Well, my motto is "Don't get back, get a move on," and that is what I have pretty much done with my life. Whenever I have run into a brick wall, I either turn a different direction or climb over it. I try to not let it effect my life, and if it does, only in a positive way.
Like this last time. I lost 50+ pounds, went from a 14 to a size 6 (come on lucky 4), got a promotion, and I am moving forward with my life. I didn't throw or smash anything, or sit in the floor and kick and scream like a petulant child. If anything, my house smelled like bleach for a month. (Cleaning is my cope mechanism.)
So, women of the world. Stop being so overly dramatic. Just remember, life is usually better off without them. And, if it isn't, make it so!
I have never burned, sold, destroyed or sabotaged another's property nor their person. Takes way too much effort. The worst thing I think I have done...Once I did the dumping; he and my pervious ex would not stop calling me, so to kill two birds with one stone, I changed my number. That's it. Call me Ms. Passive Aggressive.
Most say, "Don't get back, get even." Well, my motto is "Don't get back, get a move on," and that is what I have pretty much done with my life. Whenever I have run into a brick wall, I either turn a different direction or climb over it. I try to not let it effect my life, and if it does, only in a positive way.
Like this last time. I lost 50+ pounds, went from a 14 to a size 6 (come on lucky 4), got a promotion, and I am moving forward with my life. I didn't throw or smash anything, or sit in the floor and kick and scream like a petulant child. If anything, my house smelled like bleach for a month. (Cleaning is my cope mechanism.)
So, women of the world. Stop being so overly dramatic. Just remember, life is usually better off without them. And, if it isn't, make it so!
Long Week Ahead
Although it is Monday, my week started on Saturday. Due to having to take bereavement leave for most of Thursday and all day Friday, I was unable to complete most of my assignments at work. Therefore, to make up for lost time, I came in on the weekend.
Its amazing at how much you can get accomplished in just a few hours when the phone isn't ringing constantly. I was glad that I was able to make up some of that time and to complete my paperwork for our insurance renewal, however today was extremely difficult to get up and running.
I set the coffee pot up the night before, when my alarm went off this morning, I knew that this was not going to be easy. I slammed the snooze button and went back to sleep. Eventually, I managed to get up, walk downstairs, get a cup of coffee, and trek back up to my room. Each step I took was a definite sign that I needed more sleep. My stomach was curling and turning like never before. Finally, thirty minutes later, I was able to get up and drink my coffee, pack my gym bag, eat breakfast and get on with the day.
However, my stomach is still bothering me. Its like an empty stomach feeling, but at the same time, I'm not hungry. Does that make any sense?
Hopefully tonight's training will not be too hard on me. I am still worn out from yesterday's spin class. They have brought in new lights and one is bright red (like a tanning light almost) and it was gleaming on me the entire time as I sit close to the back wall. It was like I was in Tahiti but without a pina colada. I don't know which made me sweat more, the exercise or that damn lamp.
Its amazing at how much you can get accomplished in just a few hours when the phone isn't ringing constantly. I was glad that I was able to make up some of that time and to complete my paperwork for our insurance renewal, however today was extremely difficult to get up and running.
I set the coffee pot up the night before, when my alarm went off this morning, I knew that this was not going to be easy. I slammed the snooze button and went back to sleep. Eventually, I managed to get up, walk downstairs, get a cup of coffee, and trek back up to my room. Each step I took was a definite sign that I needed more sleep. My stomach was curling and turning like never before. Finally, thirty minutes later, I was able to get up and drink my coffee, pack my gym bag, eat breakfast and get on with the day.
However, my stomach is still bothering me. Its like an empty stomach feeling, but at the same time, I'm not hungry. Does that make any sense?
Hopefully tonight's training will not be too hard on me. I am still worn out from yesterday's spin class. They have brought in new lights and one is bright red (like a tanning light almost) and it was gleaming on me the entire time as I sit close to the back wall. It was like I was in Tahiti but without a pina colada. I don't know which made me sweat more, the exercise or that damn lamp.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Frannie, Happy Birthday!
Today is, and apparently according to facebook, her 29th. Excuse me... I need just a moment.
(Bahahahahahahahahahaha...hahahahahha. cough, cough, bahahahahha.)
Okay, now. This week has been particularly difficult. Acknowledging the 10th anniversary of our sister's death, our grandmother dying, and she having to endure the tasks associated with planning the viewing, funeral and burial. (Did I mention that I am a dead beat sister, or at least I feel like one.)
Anyway, although I know that this time of year is usually filled with sorrow, Frannie, I command you, that's right, command you, to acknowledge and enjoy this day. This is the only day (apart from Mother's Day) that is especially for you and the celebration of same. So... celebrate!
(Bahahahahahahahahahaha...hahahahahha. cough, cough, bahahahahha.)
Okay, now. This week has been particularly difficult. Acknowledging the 10th anniversary of our sister's death, our grandmother dying, and she having to endure the tasks associated with planning the viewing, funeral and burial. (Did I mention that I am a dead beat sister, or at least I feel like one.)
Anyway, although I know that this time of year is usually filled with sorrow, Frannie, I command you, that's right, command you, to acknowledge and enjoy this day. This is the only day (apart from Mother's Day) that is especially for you and the celebration of same. So... celebrate!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Frances
Let me tell you about a woman named Frances. She was my grandmother. I'm saying 'was' because sadly she passed away on Tuesday evening. Today, we must say our final "goodbyes."
In an effort to honor her life, I wanted to share some memories that I have from when I was a child.
My first memory of her is from a time that I was visiting at her condo. I couldn't have been much older than three. I would sit in front of her huge television (or at least it was to a toddler) and watch the live action Peter Pan. You know, back when they had women play the part. I would sit there and eat my Mickey Mouse shaped ice cream popsicle. I remember riding my cart that I had built out of waffle blocks and seeing the grooves that I was making in her shag carpet.
For some reason, and I still don't know why, but this memory of eating grits at her table in the morning is stuck in my head. I would circle around the edges of the mound of grits she would place on my plate. Each time that I made a full circle, I would giggle to myself because I could see more of the pattern on the dish. Her dishes are another memory for me. No one else I knew had those dishes. They were beige with brown flowers on them and a brown outer lining.
I also remember her cat. I could never say his name correctly so I always called him Pumpkin, and still do to this day. I would search under each piece of furniture until I would find him huddled under her comforter. The funniest story that she had of me, and would never pass up a chance to tell it, was once she had a little stuffed cloth cat on a pedestal. I had come to visit her one weekend and said, "Look Granny, it's Pumpkin on a stick!" She thought it was the cutest thing.
Her voice, even now as I write this, is echoing through my head. It was the sweetest, most gentle voice. You would never know if she were angry at you (or perhaps I was just that angelic and she never was) because her voice was always so calm.
The last time that I saw her, I had almost decided not to go by. It was getting late and I had just finished my Christmas shopping. I was worried that she would be asleep and I did not want to wake her. I ignored my hesitations and drove to her nursing home anyway. I am so glad that I did. We sat there for an hour just talking, about nothing really. She told me about her childhood, stories which I had never heard.
When she was young, her mother would allow her to visit the movies once when a new film was playing. (Remember, this was back in the day when movies were a big deal and there was only one at the theater at a time). She told me that sometimes she would go and watch the movie twice. Her favorite was the Client and I remember watching it with her many, many years ago.
So here's to you, Granny. Although I will miss you, I am glad that you went out of this world in your own style. I am glad that you may finally have some peace and that you are in a place where pain is no more.
She lived a full life. Four children, eight grandchildren, six great grandchildren.
Today we say our goodbyes. We love you and will miss you.
Rest in Peace, Frances.
In an effort to honor her life, I wanted to share some memories that I have from when I was a child.
My first memory of her is from a time that I was visiting at her condo. I couldn't have been much older than three. I would sit in front of her huge television (or at least it was to a toddler) and watch the live action Peter Pan. You know, back when they had women play the part. I would sit there and eat my Mickey Mouse shaped ice cream popsicle. I remember riding my cart that I had built out of waffle blocks and seeing the grooves that I was making in her shag carpet.
For some reason, and I still don't know why, but this memory of eating grits at her table in the morning is stuck in my head. I would circle around the edges of the mound of grits she would place on my plate. Each time that I made a full circle, I would giggle to myself because I could see more of the pattern on the dish. Her dishes are another memory for me. No one else I knew had those dishes. They were beige with brown flowers on them and a brown outer lining.
I also remember her cat. I could never say his name correctly so I always called him Pumpkin, and still do to this day. I would search under each piece of furniture until I would find him huddled under her comforter. The funniest story that she had of me, and would never pass up a chance to tell it, was once she had a little stuffed cloth cat on a pedestal. I had come to visit her one weekend and said, "Look Granny, it's Pumpkin on a stick!" She thought it was the cutest thing.
Her voice, even now as I write this, is echoing through my head. It was the sweetest, most gentle voice. You would never know if she were angry at you (or perhaps I was just that angelic and she never was) because her voice was always so calm.
The last time that I saw her, I had almost decided not to go by. It was getting late and I had just finished my Christmas shopping. I was worried that she would be asleep and I did not want to wake her. I ignored my hesitations and drove to her nursing home anyway. I am so glad that I did. We sat there for an hour just talking, about nothing really. She told me about her childhood, stories which I had never heard.
When she was young, her mother would allow her to visit the movies once when a new film was playing. (Remember, this was back in the day when movies were a big deal and there was only one at the theater at a time). She told me that sometimes she would go and watch the movie twice. Her favorite was the Client and I remember watching it with her many, many years ago.
So here's to you, Granny. Although I will miss you, I am glad that you went out of this world in your own style. I am glad that you may finally have some peace and that you are in a place where pain is no more.
She lived a full life. Four children, eight grandchildren, six great grandchildren.
Today we say our goodbyes. We love you and will miss you.
Rest in Peace, Frances.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Happy Birthday Tara
Today would have been Tara's 34th birthday. To commemorate this special day, I would like to share a bit about her, her story.
My first memory of her... I was about two years old. I had climbed the top of my dresser by pulling the drawers out one my one. As I peered through the curtains on my window, I could see Tara and Adam climb into the school bus. I remember thinking about how long I would have to wait for her to come home so that I would have someone to play with. Our housekeeper was rather old and wasn't too keen on playing games, particularly with a toddler. I would sit in her room while she worked on her home work, playing in her Strawberry Shortcake toy chest that was in, you guessed it, the shape of a strawberry. I remember the pink glow that would surround me every time that I enclosed myself in it.
We would play "house" out in our tree house, me always demanding to play the role of "mother." I remember falling off the swing below the tree house and screaming for our mother. Tara, being my rescuer tended to my skinned knees and palms.
When I was in middle school, Tara was living in the guest house right after she had graduated college. It was great having her home again. On weekends we would have "pool parties" where we would crank the stereo up and eat ice cream by the pool. I would try to tan with her, but my fair skin just couldn't take it. Then I would challenge her to a dive competition. That was a running joke with us. Tara could not dive, although her belly flop was a sight not be missed. Other days, we would go to the movies together. I still have the ticket stub to the last movie we saw. Frequency.
Some mornings, I would go out to the pool house and she would braid or fix my hair for school. She was much better at things of that nature than I was. She use to always comment on our beautiful my hair was and would play with it for hours on end, most when we would watch movies or TV in the family room. Her touch was so gentle and calming. Most times I would fall asleep while she brushed or braided it.
What I remember most about her, and what most do as well, was her laugh. It was like she knew how to laugh better than anyone. Her nose would crinkle and her eyes were almost invisible. You couldn't help but laugh with her. She had such a great sense of humor too. There weren't many times when we were together that there wasn't laughing.
Now, when ever I think back, I remember two things. Her laugh and the warmth you felt when around her. Not a day goes by that I don't think of and miss her.
Happy Birthday Sweetheart!
My first memory of her... I was about two years old. I had climbed the top of my dresser by pulling the drawers out one my one. As I peered through the curtains on my window, I could see Tara and Adam climb into the school bus. I remember thinking about how long I would have to wait for her to come home so that I would have someone to play with. Our housekeeper was rather old and wasn't too keen on playing games, particularly with a toddler. I would sit in her room while she worked on her home work, playing in her Strawberry Shortcake toy chest that was in, you guessed it, the shape of a strawberry. I remember the pink glow that would surround me every time that I enclosed myself in it.
We would play "house" out in our tree house, me always demanding to play the role of "mother." I remember falling off the swing below the tree house and screaming for our mother. Tara, being my rescuer tended to my skinned knees and palms.
When I was in middle school, Tara was living in the guest house right after she had graduated college. It was great having her home again. On weekends we would have "pool parties" where we would crank the stereo up and eat ice cream by the pool. I would try to tan with her, but my fair skin just couldn't take it. Then I would challenge her to a dive competition. That was a running joke with us. Tara could not dive, although her belly flop was a sight not be missed. Other days, we would go to the movies together. I still have the ticket stub to the last movie we saw. Frequency.
Some mornings, I would go out to the pool house and she would braid or fix my hair for school. She was much better at things of that nature than I was. She use to always comment on our beautiful my hair was and would play with it for hours on end, most when we would watch movies or TV in the family room. Her touch was so gentle and calming. Most times I would fall asleep while she brushed or braided it.
What I remember most about her, and what most do as well, was her laugh. It was like she knew how to laugh better than anyone. Her nose would crinkle and her eyes were almost invisible. You couldn't help but laugh with her. She had such a great sense of humor too. There weren't many times when we were together that there wasn't laughing.
Now, when ever I think back, I remember two things. Her laugh and the warmth you felt when around her. Not a day goes by that I don't think of and miss her.
Happy Birthday Sweetheart!
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