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).

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.

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.

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?

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.

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).

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.