tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-359353032024-03-19T00:38:10.274-07:00Lifes' a TypoLady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comBlogger529125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-35503506934879987192012-05-02T21:36:00.001-07:002012-05-02T21:36:18.466-07:00All in a momentI haven't posted much - more like at all - lately. Sometimes it seems that life is moving too fast to stop and take account. Or, more accurately, bungling you up with tasks and considerations so mundane that they hardly seem worth commentary.<br />
<br />Then there are evenings like tonight.<br />
<br />
Tonight was a fundraiser event for the <a href="http://www.capeanntimebanks.org/">Cape Ann TimeBank</a>. A local restaurant, Guiseppes, was donating 10% of all sales - food, take out, even bev - to CATB. Plus, I was there with a team of folks selling 50/50 raffle tickets.<br />
<br />The night stareted off great. There was a lot of laughs and catching up and general craziness. Heaven bless the patience and organization of the waitstaff!!! I especially enjoyed hanging out with a fellow "partner in crime" who was helping out with the raffle. She was vibrant, joyous, and just a wee bit on the good side of catty.<br />
<br />
Fast forward a few hours. <br />
<br />
She was seated - LUCKILY - next to a fellow TimeBanker and her husband, a doctor. She said she felt odd. She laid her head down. Then she said her chest hurt. By the time they got her toward the door, she had collapsed.<br />
<br />
I have never seen someone go so pale so fast. Her face went grey, her lips immediately drying out in a blistered pucker. Her chest went still.<br />
<br />
It was the most horrifying thing I have ever seen.<br />
<br />
Thank the UNIVERSE that getting her down to the floor helped stabilize her heartbeat. Her color returned, she regained consciousness, she became coherent. <em>To the point where she was admonishing the EMT staff for not buying raffle tickets</em>.<br />
<br />
It was a laugh seeing her joke around with the medics and bitch about not going to the ER. And I am thankful that is how the night ended.<br />
<br />But I also left tonight with the knowledge that the body can go from full of life to teetering frightfully close to the otherside in a precious few moments.<br />
<br />
There is no perfect time, there is no perfect place. It's a humble lesson we all must learn. THANK THE UNIVERSE it wasn't her time. Yet, I feel that I am lucky to have had her in my life no matter what. And that she was clearly in her element in that moment.<br />
<br />
I don't know what else to say. I only know that I won't forget the loss of identifiable life in a vibrant human being so quickly and so shockingly intense. We should cherish our lives and the lives of those around us each and every day.Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-87913121883935582222012-01-29T10:38:00.000-08:002012-01-29T10:52:00.210-08:00Opinions. hmmmThere's the old adage about the things you don't discuss in polite company. The important one is, of course, politics.<br /><br />A lot of people think that discussing politics is ridiculous. Liberals vote Democratic, Conservatives vote Republican. But I disagree. I was raised by a hard-core Conservative and am now dating a hard-core Conservative (insert father-issue joke here). But I honestly have ideas and am welcome to hear the other side...<br /><br />Here's the weird part: If I post or expound on anything remotely political or idealistic, I seem to alienate friends/subscribers/et al.<br /><br />So I'm confused. I thought social media sites - FaceBook, Twitter, et all - would be forums for discussion. Or, at the very least a forum for self-expression. But what I've found is that any personal commentary results in un-follows, unfriendings, or, most disturbingly, angre diatribe.<br /><br />I wanted social media to be a place where we could learn what other people - not pundits but people - were thinking. Instead, I've found that it's more a forum for people to subscribe to prophets of their own gospel.<br /><br />From now on, I'll subscribe to Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, Pat Buchanan, George Will and their brethern.<br /><br />Because I think I have legitimate ideas. I think my ideas are logical and relevant. But maybe others see things differently. And I'm sorry that people find my comments on Facebook or my Tweets on Twitter too "overtly" political. But this is stuff we need to/should talk about. Not argue about. Does that make sense? I hope so...Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-77588589689355090622012-01-27T01:49:00.000-08:002012-01-27T02:17:41.103-08:00Dream dream dream dreeeeeeeeam dreamWith the help of therapy, sweet therapy, I've been working through a lot of stuff. I'm tired of (using the words of a good friend) my "well-earned sabbatical" and wishing to return to a life of gainfull employment. That said, I don't want to enter back into the world that left me distraught and destroyed.<br /><br />I've decided I want to get further into event management. And, given my history, that shouldn't be too hard. Hah! Granted, not many weeks into resume circulation, but still I'm feeling disheartened.<br /><br />So that leaves me here. Nearly 5 a.m. Again. I had a dream so real, so painful, so distressing it woke me with a scream. It involved the NFP I've been doing some freelance work for that quickly realized itself as a baaaad situation. (Why do I keep falling into those?) The dream ended in me seated at a row of computers, looking at an old-school DOS screen that said, "Job Over. Job Over. Job Over." For a few moments, I wasn't sure it wasn't real.<br /><br />That's the second time in two days I've had that kind of dream.<br /><br />According to dream therapy, that's just me working through shit. But it stinks. I feel like I'm in Nightmare on Elm Street except, instead of Freddie Kruegar, I have Ghosts of Recent Past.<br /><br />So, tomorrow, I'm supposed to drive 1/2 hour to interview witha guy who graduated college 8 years after I did about a banquet server position. The idea is that I'll slowly transition into ... banquet management. But I'm disheartened. Do I really need to drive 30 minutes each way every day to be a waitress in the hopes I'll one day get the chance to move up the ladder? Or is it more worthwhile to get a job at Panera and hope management ensues? One seems more likely than the other. Still, desperate times call for desperate measures. N'est-ce pas?<br /><br />It's pouring rain and I'm distressed and depressed and honestly debating how this afternoon will turn out. Oy vey.<br /><br />Finally, I have tickets to see the wonderful and talented Marc Maron tomorrow/today. I should be psyched. But, all I can think of, in his words: "Really? This again? This whole "waking up" thing?" This whole "facing the day thing?"Really?" (If you're a fan of MM, you'll get that.)<br /><br />The thing is, I actually feel - in general - a lot better than I've been feeling these days. Just having all this existential angst to deal with is a major bummer. Maybe I can stop dreaming? Maybe I can stop thinking so damn hard...?Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-75543061538173827972012-01-17T01:20:00.000-08:002012-01-17T01:37:22.015-08:00Long TIme No HearFor anyone following my blog or reading my blog - sorry for the MIA. It's been a long, crazy few months. I moved, I landed a new - albeit temporary (and not all that desirable) - gig, I fell in love, yadda yadda yadda.<br /><br />So, what else is new?<br /><br />I spent the weekend with my new beau - WineBoy. I guess that's a good name for him. Who really knows? I love him to death, but there are definitely some things we need to work through. One of the major ones being his "superior" approach to food and wine. Not that it's not well-earned. But, still...<br /><br />We went downtown today. Theoretically to take me to the <a href="http://www.neaq.org/index.php">Aquarium</a>. I wanted to see the Shark and Ray Touch Tank. Which, btw, TOTALLY worth it. How cool is it to touch exotic sea animas?!?! Of course, then the excursion turned into him shopping for exquisit food and wine.<br /><br />Fast forward. I'm supposed to pick out a spot for lunch/dinner. As I have christened it - Lunner.<br /><br />I picked out a spot that had quite the random menu and not so great a wine list. And, while I was choosing a wine, was shaken a head at what I selected. Discussion ensued.<br /><br />Here's where my insecurity falls in. And there's no resolution - just admission. He knows way more than I do about "What goes with what" and "what's "better" than what." But I know what I like. A Foodie probably would shudder at someone putting ketchup on their eggs or mayo on their chips/fries. But if that's what someone likes... Hell, I like to put horseradish+ketchup on my baked potatoes. So, it feels really intimidating to dine out with someone who "knows" what's right and what's not.<br /><br />It's something I need to deal with. Come to terms with. Have a discussion about. But we'll see when I get the gumption to do it. This wells up a lot of my issues - hello therapy! But I don't think it's insurmountable. I guess we'll find out.<br /><br />Wow - randomness for first post back. I'll have to back-fill some other time, I guess. All the fun and random stuff that has made the past few months blog-worthy. But, for now, I guess that's what's on my mind...Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-33391898422712474822011-11-21T00:40:00.000-08:002011-11-21T00:59:28.907-08:00NestingHere I am - insomnia girl once again. I can only assume it's the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">unconscious</span> dread of "home for the holidays." I won't be home too long, but still...<div><br /></div><div>Here's the other issue. I seem to be wildly, crazily in love. It's too soon, I know, but it's just ... there. He's so smart and so knowledgeable and so passionate and so caring. I keep wondering what he sees in me. He made me al list - which was <i>truly</i> the sweetest thing ever, but I still can't believe that this amazing man loves me. I guess I'll have to get over my disbelief because he tells me time and again that he loves <i>me, but - </i>wowzers!</div><div><br /></div><div>And then there's the nesting issue. I lovelovelove spending time at his place. He's sweet and thoughtful and makes room for my shower do-dads and cooks me eggs in the morning. But I've just moved into my new home. And I really do love it here, despite my concerns. And Eliza seems to have taken territory. Still, my nights away have affected both my increase of comfort in my new home and my sense of abandonment of my FuzzBucket (and consequently the burden upon my housemate to look after her care).</div><div><br /></div><div>I have just brought this up to amazing suitor (I'd refer to him as wine-guy, except that seems to belittle all his other amazing qualities. Still, everyone needs a pseudonym...) And I'm sure he'll be helpful and comfortable with working things out. But I'm still awfully proud to have realized the issue, thought it through and proposed a solution. Amazing therapist would be so proud.</div><div><br /></div><div>And now, it's 4 hours until I have to get up for a meeting at my theoretical new job. I have a crazy feeling it's going to be a li=ong day.</div>Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-44477796229571342872011-11-13T21:17:00.000-08:002011-11-13T21:31:47.943-08:00How Can I Be This Happy?The last few weeks have been sooooo crazy. Moving, storage, dealing with painful personalities and situations. But I seem to have wound out OK.<div><br /></div><div>In the meantime, I have apparently fallen in love.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have a bad history of acting a bit too soon. Still, I am sooooo happy. Suitor is brilliant and funny and thoughtful and caring. And he seems to like me equally. We keep trying to impress each other, which is weird, but also indicative of how we seem to mutually appreciate each other.</div><div><br /></div><div>To be honest, I'm falling massively in love with him. Too much so for my own best interest. And too fast for my own good interest. But he makes me so happy and challenges me mentally and philosophically and makes me laugh and, well makes me horny..... So ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Things have been going so well for me lately that I can't believe my renewed meditation doesn't have a part. But, whether it does or or doesn't, I am so happy. And I'll figure the rest out later. </div>Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-34096767041747445922011-11-08T20:27:00.001-08:002011-11-08T20:34:34.412-08:00NewnessWell, my life energy sure doesn't take long to shift.<br /><br />In the few days it's been since <a href="http://www.witchvox.com/va/dt_va.html?a=usxx&c=holidays&sc=samhain&id=1984">Samhain</a>, the Celtic New Year, so much has happened.<br /><br />I moved into a new home. It's not in my beloved city of Gloucester, but it's in a safe space, with amazing energy and a housemate I adore.<br /><br />I was offered a new job. OK, they're wishy-washy and wibbly-wobbly (or the NGO equivalent of Mitt Romney (SNAP1)) but they still seem to want me at some point.<br /><br />I started dating a WONDERFUL man. He's sweet and kind and smart and thoughtful. And he truly cares about me. He keeps asking: "Why me?" and I'm like - duh! you're smart, you're funny, you know lots about things I don't know and want to learn about the things I know that you don't. Um, what was the question? So, yes, I'm feeling very school-girl-in-love, Which, at 36 isn't such a bad way to feel<br /><br />So, here I am. Good things afoot and ahead. And I am happier than I've been in a long time. I want to hold on to this feeling. I will try to remember and offer thanks for this peace as often as I can. Because how many New Years like this come along?Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-63841826624559150252011-10-30T20:54:00.000-07:002011-10-30T21:41:38.060-07:00What's Smart Comedy?OK - so we all get it: I like comedy. Stand-up mostly, but most any laughter will do.<br /><br />Recently, I've been feeling very ... high brow ... about my comedy. Topical humor - state of the world, state of the state, religion, life the universe and everything (42).<br /><br />But tonight I had dinner (well, I think it was more a dinner date) with a friend who is fiercely intelligent. And, while I fancy myself a fan of politically- or socially- informed comedy, I was HORRIFICALLY offended by his lack of familiarity with Mel Brookes' <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082517/"><em>History of the World</em></a><em>. </em>Looking back (and I easily did so via YouTube,) the humor is classic slapstich. Who's on first, yadda yadda. But I still have to laugh. An avowed Jew making light the insanity of the Spanish Inquisition. Humorizing the Last Supper. Throwing homosexual innuendos into the uber-Victorian sentiment of the French Revolution.<br /><br />It made me realize that humor doesn't have to be overt to be smart. Sometimes tap-dancing nuns say just as much as <a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-1123478329757426695#">Bill Hick's rant on Kennedy</a> or <a href="http://youtu.be/-tBxCyce1AI">Ellen DeGeneris take on God</a>. I guess what all of this shows is that it takes different things to reach different people.<br /><br />What this boils down to is the following: liking comedy doesn't make me a stupid frat boy. It can carry more weight than (in the words of Bill Hicks and many others) dick and fart jokes. But it also means that sometimes comedy can carry really important messages without sounding so preachy. Preachy can be funny. And slapstick can have a message. But neither of them carries the weight of the 1980's morality show.<br /><br />I'd much rather watch George Carlin than an after-school special about the dangers of dating the wrong boys.<br /><br />So, <em>Jews In Space</em>? Thank you, yes I will.Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-72670341404512865112011-10-27T20:34:00.000-07:002011-10-27T20:52:53.227-07:00PoltergeistsOK - so it's no secret that I don't really want to move. I mean, sure, I'm moving into a space that has awesome energy and fantastic friendship. But it's not Gloucester. And Glouester has become my spiritual home.<br /><br />Still, there are things; Last night the fire alarm would NOT shut up. Landlord seemed pissed that I'd torn it from the wall. Shit, in my "cornial ulcer" state, she's lucky I didh't unload a round on the disruption.<br /><br />Tonight, there was a flood. seems to have been caused by cat-food lids. Which i find slightly inconcievable, as some of them<em> might and probibly,</em> been caused by catfood containers blocking water flowage.<br /><br />But I am trying really hard not to take on my landlords insecurities onto myself. I didn't make tthe fire alarm scream unbearably. When I was shown the apartment, I was not warned of the potential water drainage issues.<br /><br />Landlor's inability or inconvenience isn't my problem. That's why I'm a tenant and she's a landlord. I have tried a lot to help her. But at the end of the dqy, I write my checks out to her. So, to say it crudely, 'Suck it up!'4Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-49259541427311655322011-10-23T19:40:00.000-07:002011-10-23T19:59:58.778-07:00Memories, they keep coming through...I KNOW that I should be looking ahead. After all, the future holds unknowing wonders for me. The Universe will point me toward what is right.<br /><br />Still...<br /><br />Today I walked along Niles Beach. I remember calling friends and saying: "Do you hear that? That's the ocean. I live here." I remember walking up to visit "my rock" in a raging snowstorm thinking: <em>Things will be OK. The Universe brought me to this place I love.</em><br /><em></em><br />I know that I should - must - concentrate on what is before me. Living in the space of a beloved friend. Being close to .. everything ... and closer to friends I love.<br /><br />I should honor the loss but also embrace the future. So why does it seem so hard?<br /><br />In some way, I feel that moving is an acknowledgement of surrender. If I'd be making ye olde Pearson salary, maybe I could float the entire rent. If I'd dealt with roomie earlier, maybe I could have found a suitable replacement. But realistically and objectivelly: yes, there were things within my control I could have managed differently. There were also many factors beyond my control that I might have responded to differently. The lesson here is for me to take away knowledge from each.<br /><br />So, I deal with this knowledge. But I still find myself:<br /><br />Standing on Niles Beach, remembering the first time I felt: "That's the ocean. I hear the waves. I live here."<br /><br />Standing on the Back Shore in full-on snow gear, watching the water froth over "my rock" and believing "The Universe wants me here, so I'll find a way."<br /><br />Running in the morning, smelling the muffins baking at The Last Stop and seeing the sun rise against the backdrop of the Twin Lights.<br /><br />Going for a bikeride and pausing at Bearskin Neck for a Gatorade and a glance at the Lobster Boats heading out to sea.<br /><br />A friend of mine asked me recently, where would I be heading. I told her my destination and how happy I was to be moving into a safe space, But then I added, "But I'll come back. Because my heart - my soul - is here." And, yes, I started to cry.<br /><br />I can't believe that leaving a place can be as heart-breaking as losing a lover. And, I PROMISE, I will embrace my new living space and my new hometown. But I pledge I will return. Because the memories will just keep coming back.Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-13847421862368427362011-10-22T18:45:00.000-07:002011-10-22T18:52:55.440-07:00Re-arranging a lifeTonight I put two and a half and a closet into boxes. Somehow it feels like a success. But also, a failure.<br /><br />Moving makes us put our lives into boxes. This is Kitchen. This is Bedroom. These are Books. Those are CD's.<br /><br />My inner self doesn't want to be compartmentalized like that. The person who reads Little Dombey listens to Louis CK? The person who watches Fight Club also watches Giselle?<br /><br />For someone who's been in therapy for YEARS, moving puts so many things in perspective.<br /><br />I am a complex human being. Fuck, we all are. And unlike my parents, I want to recognize all of those parts of me.<br /><br />I also realize that there is a HUGE part of me that will miss Glostah. But there are things to look forward to. And with my new (albeit temporary) jobby job, I'll get both.<br /><br />But what I need to - and am working on - learning, is that we all have LOTS of stuff going on. None of it is good. None of it is bad. All of it just is.<br /><br />So, I'll continue to cry. And I'll continue to laugh. And I'll continue to navigate a life that will always be open to possibilutyLady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-39258299210521082612011-10-09T22:32:00.000-07:002011-10-09T22:44:50.838-07:00ExhaustionTomorrow, I work at the winery, making six out of seven days.<br /><br />Tuesday, I drive my wonderful, lifesaving friend to the airport for, possibly, ever.<br /><br />I have boxes scattered around my apartment, slowly accumulating my entire life within cardboard.<br /><br />I'm waiting - impatiently - for a call-back on a job that would be a really exciting opportunity.<br /><br />Now that my gym membership is reactivated - and given my expanding thigh circumference - I want desperately to work out. For physical but also major psychological benefits.<br /><br />My mind is torn and pulled in so many directions. I want to trust the future and all of its possiblities. I know I'll mourn my excursion from Gloucester. I must believe the work situation will work itself out. But all of this trusting and questioning and wondering and fruitless future-predicting is wearing me out.<br /><br />I have to take pleasure and solace in the wonderful moments I have, day to day. A laugh with new friends. A discovery of a new Pho restaurant in Woburn. An admission from my boss that she is very happy with my work and success at the winery. The adorableness of a kitty curled up in a cardboard box.<br /><br />I have to get up in 6 hours. And make nice for 5 hours before I can come home and pass out.<br /><br />I want to go to the gym. Desperately need to practice my yoga. But right now, my yoga is to breath in and out, remember and hold the positive closely and know that I can concentrate on lovely non-essentials when I get settled, comforted and at peace.Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-83298014597592758822011-10-03T03:23:00.000-07:002011-10-03T03:44:04.638-07:00A Sum of PartsI was <em>REALLY</em> depressed yesterday. It was partly physical (won't go into that) but also a sense of overwhelm. I'm moving from a place I dearly love. And that entails emotional closure, but also all the realistic aspects. I have to get the carpets cleaned. I have to find moving boxes. I have to rent a truck. Etc.<br /><br />And then there's the fact that I once again have my place to myself. And I should rejoice in this. No more worrying about coming home. No more forcing pleasant conversation when I have places to be and things to do. But there is a sense of isolation.<br /><br />Last night, I said to Good Buddy, "You're all I have." And at times I feel that is true.<br /><br />But the reality is, it is not. A dear friend called me last night, not for advice but just to bitch. To hear me tell her - and it's true - that she is a wonderful mother and an amazing person. One of the most wonderful person in this existence is worried about me being comfortable in her "former" space. Girlfriend is moving overseas and she's thinking about me! I have a myriad of people who know me and like me, however "superficial" our friendship might be. I have much to be thankful for.<br /><br />So, in a way, I think this depression is about the uprooting of a life. All of the little things - the ppl at the convenience store who started to carry pineapple juice just for me. The ppl at my breakfast shop who have actually named a breakfast sandwich after me. The imprint I've made with local organizations. Hell, I even have "Farmers' Market" friends who share their stories and listen to mine. And I don't even know their names!<br /><br />All of this is part of my emotional state. But I also need to realize that I've started over before. And I still carry memories of the good parts I've left behind. One ex referred to the waking of morning birds as "The Dawn Chorus." Another ex loved to cuddle just after waking. "So cozy," he'd say. A friend was amused that I put jelly on one side of a bagel and butter on the other. Another friend knows how much I detest olives and will stress this point at restaurants on my behalf.<br /><br />I am losing a lot with this move. But I know I will carry fantastic memories with me. As things end - sadly or needfully - we still have our memories. And those are precious. Those are the things to hang onto. When I start to cry, when I'm feeling so alone, these are the things I should remember.Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-78209457092261407482011-09-30T23:10:00.000-07:002011-09-30T23:33:50.710-07:00Eye OpenersTonight I facilitated a fundraiser for a Republican candidate for US Congress. And, I must admit, many of the people were personable and approachable. They sported much bling - gold, diamonds, gems, etc. But they were mostly nice. However, when it came time for speech...<br /><br />There was talk of morality, of taking back America, of reducing deficits and eliminating hand-outs. People clapped and cheered at the rousing speech.<br /><br />He talked about deficit spending but didn't mention an unbudgeted war. He talked remaining ahead of China but didn't mention the numerous tax advantages to corporations who offshore jobs. He talked about protecting Vets but didn't mentioned unfunded (and-ill-founded) wars. And, of course, he talked about a budget deficit without mentioning that Clinton had a net-positive budget and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were waged "off the books."<br /><br />All of this is rhetorical and idealogic and ya'all know what side of the fence I fall on. But here is my final reminder of why I am who I am.<br /><br />I worked the fundraiser because I was outsourced from a job and haven't gotten another in this restrictive economy. I worked it because I like meeting people and I'm willing to be open minded. I worked it because my rent was due.<br /><br />And then I heard a woman say (and I quote:) "If the poor don't like it, I don't care."<br /><br />There you go folks, a return to moral values.<br /><br />Jesus, I suggest you put on your Manola Blaniks and forget about The Meek. It's all about taxation structure after all...Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-77598744685002609292011-09-29T19:15:00.000-07:002011-09-29T19:28:47.611-07:00Wow - Look at me!I have an 8 a.m. Skype interview. (So, why, you ask, am I blogging at 10ish? Hello my insomniac friends.) It's a really interesting position and one I think I could be super successful in. And the decision process will be relatively short - they want to make an offer next week. I <em>think</em> I'm the lead horse in the running, but one never knows.<br /><br />I spoke with Amazing Therapist about this today. The application process - and exponentially, the interviewing process - is really putting yourself in a vulnerable position. In reality, there are many factors at play. Are they a good fit for you? Are you a good fit for the role? Do you have the qualities they need or are you over-qualified and likely to become bored? None of these are "self judgement questions." If you get offered the job, it's because it's a good fit. For you. For them. If not, well, some puzzle pieces don't size up.<br /><br />But it is SOOOO easy to take it as a judgement. If I don't get hired, there's something wrong with me. Something deficient. Maybe I didn't answer the questions right. Maybe they didn't think I could do the job. Maybe...<br /><br />So, I'm in that precarious situation. I want to believe I want and can get this job. But I also don't want to find myself devastated if I don't get it. I sent my resume in less than a week ago. I haven't really had time to mull over the myriad possibilities. But I know that, if I'm told they've offered it to someone else, the likelihood is I'll go downward tilt, at least for awhile. So my homework for this week is to keep in mind exactly how demanding this whole vulnerable process it.<br /><br />Because no matter what happens or what they decide; look at me. I sent in my resume. I went through the trouble of searching the job boards. I personalized the cover letter. I dressed up and went on an interview. I put my portfolio up for review. I exposed myself to a delicate situation.<br /><br />And so, Amazing Therapist has asked me to hold this truth: No matter what happens, I've been brave. Really, fucking brave.<br /><br />That said - I'm still asking friends and sundry to send me some serious light for this one.<br /><br />9.5 hours and counting...Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-20691799260192318102011-09-26T20:23:00.000-07:002011-09-26T20:29:39.268-07:00You'll End Up CryingSHOCK - it's the name of an A-Ha song. But it's super appropriate today.<br /><br />I've had some REALLY awesome things happen. I have a jobby-job interview tomorrow. I talked with an amazing human being I'd fallen out of touch with. Still...<br /><br />I went to sleep crying. I'm moving into a good friends' house and opinion seemed...off. Likely cuz she's moving overseas. But I worried that it was also a fear of me living in her space. I'm afraid too, but I also know that her soul will be surrounding me and that is much to keep me safe.<br /><br />I also felt memories of Glostah keeping me sad. It's a month away, but already I'm grieving. I know it's likely temporarily and that this plan makes sense in so many ways. But still....<br /><br />Add that to a very tense conversation with Good Buddy (shock - it was me telling him his "rudder" was here...) and a possible crush on a coworker and....<br /><br />Fuck. It's been a long week. No wonder I'm cryingLady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-79488840146582407822011-09-26T03:13:00.000-07:002011-09-26T03:44:03.467-07:00Ugh and NotI had dinner the other night with friends. We did a three-part toast: To sparkly birthdays, to happy trails and to new roomies.<br /><br />It's definitely a time of transition. I'm moving away from a place I love. A place I've loved to call home. Glostah is a unique space unto itself and I'm very - very - sad to be leaving it. Still, I hate to walk into a cafe or store or restaurant without feeling anxious. I'll leave it at that.<br /><br />The timing of everything worked out too well for me to deny The Universe was steering me in that direction. Amazing therapist says "this is probably right for now. And who knows what the next step will be." She's right, but I'm still wicked sad. I cry a lot these days.<br /><br />I realize I've scared a lot of friends by making this blog non-public. So I'm going to make it public again. I'm sure there are some people monitoring it, but I can't live my life so anxious and tense. I've always believed in an open and free world and I've lived "out loud" for long enough to not let situations stop me (hello dooced).<br /><br />To sum up, I'm conflicted but hopeful. Anxious but positive. Celebratory and mourning.<br /><br />And now, I'm going to feed Fuzzy Bucket, make tea and drink it watching the ocean and then, yeah, probably go back to sleep. I'm wicked tired from yesterday, but more on that fun and games later. (Hint: Winery life is <em>gooooooood</em>.)Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-55497274903850253682011-09-21T20:10:00.000-07:002011-09-21T20:39:42.189-07:00Who Do Ya Love?This is kinda sorta a continuation of a previos post. But, I guess I need to work through this issue...<br /><br />Through my previous posts, readers may have come to realize I have eclectic tastes ... I like pop-culture detective shows (<a href="http://www.cbs.com/shows/criminal_minds/">Criminal Minds</a>); insightful, yet blue, comedy; and raunchy, often mean and rude radio shows (<a href="http://www.facebook.com/opieandanthony">Opie and Anthony</a>, <a href="http://smodcast.com/">Smodcast</a>, The <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.joerogan.net">Joe Rogan Experience</a>). And yet, I love <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www/npr.org">NPR</a>, <a href="http://www.siriusxm.com/americaleft">America Left</a>, <a href="http://www.bbcamerica.com/content/329/index.jsp">BBC News</a> and <a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/">The Daily Show</a>.<br /><br />Just like in high school where I was on the Lit Mag group AND the cheerleading team, I still don't fit neatly into any one corner.<br /><br />I'm tired of justifying it. A dear, wonderful, big-hearted friend helped me get through the last few days of insecurity. Yet he found my radio family offensive and cruel. Another wonderful soullmate couldn't believe I listened to "NPR drivel." (Hello <a href="http://www.rachelmaddow.com/">Rachel Maddow</a>!) Someone else heard my giggling and sat down to watch a <a href="http://danieltosh.com/">Daniel Tosh </a>special. To her obvious chagrin.<br /><br />I can't please everyone. And I can't please any someone all of the time. I don't pin down well. Maybe that's why I'm so hard to live with. Or be in a relationship with. Or figure out.<br /><br />For what it's worth: I took a class in relative religions in college. We discussed a living candidate for sainthood and his writings. And while I valued a lot of what he said, I came away with this: "His writings are inspirational, but if I were his friend, I'd find him annoying."<br /><br />I'm not entirely pure or entirely righteous or entirely holy. I'm also not entirely depraved or entirely decadent or entirely immoral.<br /><br />I'm just me. No more no less. I'm not going to apologize for the obnoxious radio shows I listen to or make excuses for the completely obvious liberal talk shows I watch. I don't want to turn down the volume on some things or turn up the volume on other things. I guess I'm tired of being "a type."Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-13116882814232320702011-09-18T21:12:00.000-07:002011-09-19T08:08:04.171-07:00Drifting,FloatingThere has been so much going on. From choosing to live a hostile-free home to figuring out where I will live and who I want to be and how to get there from here...<br /><br />And I think alot about how I can/may heal myself. And often, I focus on the time I've spent at <a href="http://www.kripalu.org/">Kripalu</a> for yoga, meditation, companionship, understanding. And, yes, those are moments worth savoring and holding onto.<br /><br />But, recently, I've found myself being less drawn to that and more drawn to the brainy, esoteric, (and, frankly) base humor of my favorite comics and spoken word artists.<br /><br />I don't know why. I can guess at the reasons. Maybe, I feel too angry, resentful and revengeful of recent events to feel comfortable being "pure yoga girl." Or, maybe, frankly, I'm too caught up in my own destructive self-medication to let loose in a soul-freeing way.<br /><br />I don't think where I am is where I want to be long-term. But I also know I haven't fully assimilated the extent of the abuse inflicted on me over the past few years.<br /><br />So maybe I need to forgive myself some indulgence. And. quite probably, I need to start preparing myself to whip my ass back into shape.<br /><br />But for every season, turn turn...Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-86294050834713845072011-09-12T19:10:00.000-07:002011-09-12T19:30:02.714-07:00Forever and ever AmenI just finished watching @KevinSmith movie Red State. It was really thought provoking. At times it was like, "yeah, this is a Kevin Smith film" and other times you were like, "is this the house if 1000 corpses?" So, yeah, a fuckin good film<br /><br />But it also led me to thinking. I was one of those "Youth Group" kids. I went to the retreats and the missions. Hell, I even marched on Washington to protest RoeVWade. (To be fair, even then I protested b/c I knew the unfairness of womens' ability to protect themselves and make choices on their own, but still...I was there.) Despite confessing I had concerns and doubts, I led youth group prayers, I swayed eagerly with moving hymns, I led prayers, I kneeled reverently at Church.<br /><br />To this day, I don't think all of it is bunk. But I do think the demand of unquestioning/unflagging submission is dangerous. Loving thy neighbor = good Smotingthy neighbor = bad.<br /><br />The Universe I've come to pray to might not have rules or a bible or a tome of behavior. But it sums a lot up in its tenet: "And if it harms none, do what thou wilt." But even more important to me is this, "Blessed be." So many things in this world enlighten us, surprise us, enjoy us, hurt us, concern us, bewilder us. Some resolve positively. Some negatively. But my Universe knows that we can learn from it too. There is no book that tells us What Is. There is only the guidance of ourselves and the energy that is creation.<br /><br />So, yeah, it's OK I used to lead bible studies. And it's okay I used to fall into religious rank. Because it brought me to where I am. And to that I say, "Blessed Be."Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-45527420342080516322011-09-09T18:42:00.000-07:002011-09-09T18:57:04.006-07:00HomeworkUsually, my doctors and therapists give ME homework. Take this pill at this time. Meditate on this. Focus on that. Try cataloguing your feelings/meals/sleeping patterns. Blah blah blah.<br /><br />But when I met with Amazing Therapist today, the tables were turned.<br /><br />Months ago, she'd reference a document I hadn't read. Recently, I'd asked her for a copy of it, thinking it would offer helpful guidance.<br /><br />Today, she gleefully announced, "I found it!" Apparently my request was impetus for her to search through her files to find said document.<br /><br />We didn't have time to discuss it. Time was spent with other stuff.<br /><br />But this afternoon, sitting on the seawall at Plum Island with a much-anticipated sun on my back, I was happy and pleased and relieved and grateful and appreciative that Amazing Therapist had gone through that trouble. The reading was worth waiting for.<br /><br />It offered me words of healing I needed. And gave me ideas for future strength.<br /><br />It was nice to give my therapist homework, for once. Instead of the other way around. And to have it pay off so fruitfully.<br /><br />I am blessed to have so many amazing tools in my toolbox. Thank you UNIVERSE.<br /><br />And, hopefully tomorrow, when I wake up, meditate, take my prescripted 3k milligrams of fish oil and eat my breakfast off a wholewheat bagel,well... Maybe I'll feel a bit better a bout some of the other stuff in my life.<br /><br />It's been a hella summer/month/week/days. But I still have those tools in my toolbox...Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-70714925452375721642011-09-08T20:15:00.000-07:002011-09-08T20:35:09.427-07:00At What Point Safety?I asked - no,to be fair, demanded - my roommate leave by the fifteenth of the month. Now, I will be the first to admit, I have not always been the ideal roommate. I've been bothered by his laissez-faire approach to life. Friends, relatives, et al have "helped him out" while he job searched somewhat less than ... tenaciously. And I've let that bother me. Publicly at times. When I should not have, I admit. One, his work is not my work. I have enough personal work to not take on his failings. Two, relinquishing that, I should not have made my frustrations public.<br /><br />I own my failints. I admit them and apologize for them. <br /><br />Yet, I feel that my frustration was in some way justified. I got angry that he couldn't pay bills while he spent time on the beach or going out at night. Or publically admitted to being high quite frequently. I'm not going to claim I've always been "drug free" but I still managed to pay my bills on time.<br /><br />When I asked him - okay, insisted - to leave by the 15th of the month, he got angry. More than angry. Other tenants were months behind on rent so why was I making a big deal. I flaunted in his face the fact that I had part time jobs when I should stop playing "Mother Theresa." I blogged about him "slandering him."). (Yes, I blogged about him and I shouldn't have. But slander is only slander if it isn't true.)<br /><br />But here's what I am truly afraid of: the ferocity in his eyes, in his face. He admitted not a week ago that he was off his meds because (and I quote so it's not slander) his sister was helping him get his meds but could no longer do so. And while he had other things to worry about, the first was to get his meds in order.<br /><br />Today, he threw my diagnosis of bi-polar in my face. Who was I to judge, he insisted, when I had been diagnosed as "crazy." Despite the fact that I have been mindful and proactive about treating my condition. Whereas he can't get a prescription renewed (and again I quote, no slander intended) because "they want to charge me $65 for an evaluation."<br /><br />So here he is, much larger than me, physically, and clearly off his meds. No, I have not been perfect. But I have ALWAYS owned up to my bad behavior.<br /><br />But there's a difference between being a bad roommate and being a scary, threatening roommate. And I am going on record, here and now, and saying that I am scared of him. I stress every time I pull into our development and see his car there. I shake thinking I have to get into a confrontation with him. Because his eyes are scary. His mannerisms are scary. Yes, in truth, I am worried.<br /><br />Friends want me to call the police But I have nothing to say. He hasn't hurt me physically. He's abused me verbally, but that's really hard to prove...<br /><br />I guess the point of this is to verbalize the scary situation I'm in. Maybe people who have similar experiences will find solace. Maybe they'll contact me I can find solace. I don't know.<br /><br />But I know that it's almost midnight, tomorrow is a day off and, in theory, I could sleep 'till whenever, but I feel like I need to be up and about. Just in case...<br /><br />I have friends offering me a safe house. And thank the Universe for them. I pray I will never have to take them up on the offer. But "my tribe" has offered me refuge. I love my tribe.Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-36055532010696094272011-09-07T19:13:00.000-07:002011-09-07T19:22:22.473-07:00For the RecordI'm not going to outline the various and sundry ways my current roommate has taken advantage of me and my generosity; has mentally and emotionally abused me and, defrauded me. <br /><br />The truth is, he's done all those things. And more. I'm trying REALLY hard to keep this in perspective and know that it's his issue, not mine. But I still feel attacked ad antagonized. To the point where I developed a stomach ache thinking about coming home and what nastiness he had in store for me. <br /><br />I've paid his portion of utility bills. I've forgiven late rent payment even when he was snarky about it (not to mention while I was putting down my beloved 16-year-old cat). I've extended job offers that wouldn't affect DUA collection and I've suggested job openings.<br /><br />All of this is met with bitterness, rudeness and cruelty.<br /><br />He's going to fight me on leaving the apartment. But my heart and soul know that I have been forgiving and he has been vengefu. And my hope is that truth will prevail...Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-65257217950371427252011-09-05T20:33:00.000-07:002011-09-06T06:54:05.055-07:00The more things change...Three years ago, I spent days and days and days building my way into my current home. I had no idea what I was getting into or who I was becoming. I brought a lot of stuff in, piece by piece. To finish the labor, I had a wonderful friend - Tomkolson - to help me with the last big bits of moveage.<br /><br />As a stubborn, Type-A Leo, once everything was inside I was determined to start putting stuff away tout de suite. But since the day started around 5 a.m., the evening was destined to end early. And so it did.<br /><br />With my newly installed cable TV, I searched out a special airing from a beloved comedian, Jim Norton. Despite hysterical laughter, I passed out from exhaustion early on.<br /><br />Three years later, here's 'Lil Jimmy on my TV once again in the same special. Yet again, I'm in the space of reevaluating my situation and my desires...<br /><br />Unlike three years ago, I have a much better understanding of who I am and what I want. I strive to commit to lovingkindness. But I am coming to realize I need to offer that to myself before I can offer it to others. I also don't want to be a (to borrow a 1950's phrase) a Patsy. So, the K who had learned to defend herself and her interests above those who take advantage is starting to emerge. I have been standing up for myself and my rights unequivacably while stil feeling empathy for those who want to capitalize on my generosity.<br /><br />But generosity must have it's limits. And I've found those. It is time I need to stop accomodating others and looking out for my own rights.<br /><br />It's uncomfortable, but it is an productive advance from the me of now and the me of three years ago. <br /><br />Here I am with a distinct and obvious reminder of who I am and who I was and who I might want to be. It might not be a huge spiritual revelation, but it's enough for now.<br /><br />In a roundbout way, thank you, Jim Norton.Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35935303.post-13162997627610920222011-08-31T20:58:00.000-07:002011-09-01T07:48:04.023-07:00Semper Fi GuiltasSo, Pops hasn't exactly been the model of health. A year and change ago he had a stroke. A few weeks later, he was back in th hospital. Too much too soon. Then, last week, he was admitted yet again with the signs of a stroke. A hundred tests run and they couldn't quite pin the cause down.
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<br />Today I found out that once again, he's in the hospital. Near they can say is - it might have been caused by a spike in blood pressure because (are you ready for this?) they were in the process of tweaking his BP meds and he decided to enjoy a dinner of ... <em>Bratworst and Bubba Burgers.</em>
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<br />I've been a vegetarian for most of my life and can attest to the benefits I've experienced. But I would NEVER proselytise (sp?) to the meat eaters. But that being said: Dad eats Keilbasa and Bubba Burgers. Bologna. Kraft cheese. He might as well be slathering cholesteral on his arteries. I know that older generations don't necessarily realize the food concerns that younger gens do, but...
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<br />Above and beyond all of this is my duty as a daughter. I've been rushing home at the indication of a sickness or a hospitalization. I love my Pop and in no way would I ever ever ever want anything to harm him. But... I have an opportunity this weekend to make triple my usual "under the table" income. Holiday weekends are generous for unseen workers.
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<br />As one of my fellow workers pointed out: "Not for nothing, but if you could get sick when it wouldn't cost me a fortune, that would be great."
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<br />I don't want to be the kind of daughter that leaves her family high and dry. I also don't want to be the kind of daughter that has to keep asking for a loan because I had to skip work...
<br />Lady McHerbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12389649081245892804noreply@blogger.com