We Surround Them

I grew up in a “traditional” home. God-fearing parents who sent us off to church on Sunday. Raised strictly by parents who may have had occasional marital problems, but worked through them out of love for each other, for my sister and I, and because they simply knew no other way than to stay married.

Though they had my sister when they were just out of high school, they strove to raise my sister and I with certain values. Honesty, humility, sincerity, courage.

Hard work and personal responsibility were driven into us. A requirement.

Thrift was a necessity as we did not have much money growing up. Gratitude for what we did have was taught over each meal, each gift we received.

Charity was never discussed. We didn’t volunteer or donate money. Charity was in our hearts. If someone needed a place to stay, they stayed over. If someone needed something, we shared what we had.

Now that I am older, about to marry and am thinking about children, I have come to believe in certain principles.

1. America is good.
2. I believe in God and He is the Center of my Life.
3. I must always try to be a more honest person than I was yesterday.
4. The family is sacred. My spouse and I are the ultimate authority, not the government.
5. If you break the law you pay the penalty. Justice is blind and no one is above it.
6. I have a right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, but there is no guarantee of equal results.
7. I work hard for what I have and I will share it with who I want to. Government cannot force me to be charitable.
8. It is not un-American for me to disagree with authority or to share my personal opinion.
9. The government works for me. I do not answer to them, they answer to me.

I don’t believe many people can disagree with the values and principles recited above. The government, over the last 50 years has encroached on these values and principles. It has pushed against our freedoms and have sanctioned actions that I simply find deplorable.

This is not a fight against Obama, or the Democrats, or the Republicans. This is a fight against the government as a whole encroaching on our lives.

It is time America started standing up for itself. We have cowered too long in silence as our renegade government has enslaved us more and more each day. We have to take action, and this may very well be the first step.

I encourage you to take action, and go to one of the many meet-ups that are being organized to view this program. Take that first step, and acquaint yourselves with your fellow citizens who still give a damn about this country and what’s right.

There is strength in numbers and in the unification of people with a common cause.




http://www.glennbeck.com/content/articles/article/198/21018/
http://wesurroundthemmap.com

Herein, I Say Minutiae and With Whom

I have been so involved with the minutiae of life that I haven’t had a spare moment to type up anything to bring this sucker up to date.

I know this minutia of life is so tedious, and irritating, and boring, but it is the minutia that makes up life.

The day to day is where we frame our lives. It may just be grocery shopping, dog walking, working out, scrubbing floors, folding laundry, but I spend most of my time in this manner.

The minutia is my life.

Of course, there are big moments, important moments, moments I will remember much longer and larger than scrubbing the kitchen floor, but the day to day shouldn’t be taken for granted. Or hurried. It should be enjoyed just like the huge moments of life.

How I treat the day to day, and those with whom I spend my day to day is what makes up the person I am.

In the end, I may not remember the day to day minutiae, but I will remember if I was happy in my day to day. And others will remember if I was loving in my day to day.

Don’t take it for granted. Even if it is just scooping poop.

Ok, maybe that is ok to take for granted, but not the puppy that pooped it out. (…lol…)

Fred Thompson on the Economy

This is Definitely More Eisenhower than Turner.

Out of all this hurricane mess and complaining and bitchy, smelly people and just sadness, anger, and all sorts of negativity, there is good. Which is so important to remember. It is so easy to dwell on the bad things about this hurricane. It is so easy to do. It is harder to appreciate the good. Which is so true about life in general.

The other night, sitting around the radio for the evening Fireside Chat, the radio station changed it up. As things have improved, they have stopped taking calls of problems and complaints, but were asking what people were doing to pass the time without electricity.

The answers were heartwarming. People explained how they were telling their children and grandchildren stories, our history, about the World Wars, about 9/11, about how they met, about growing up.

They were playing Uno together. As a family. They were teaching their children Mother May I, Red Light Green Light, Simon Says. Kids were playing outside.

Couples that used to sit, not talking, vegging out to the television in the evenings, are rekindling their romance. Remembering what brought them together. Talking at length for the first time in a very long time.

One gentleman discussed how his family is spending the hurricane. He was reconnecting with his wife and daughter. Playing games, talking, getting to know them again. He was brought to tears as he explained how he was afraid for the lights to come back on. In fact, his family had decided to have "Hurricane Thursdays" where they flip the breaker and spend a night without power, to recreate the closeness they have just discovered.

I too would like to have power out days (Not any time soon as I really want power on days first). I would like days to appreciate the slowness, the stillness, the thoughts within. To appreciate why I am with Not Craig, why I am so madly in love with the man.

I want to remember to slow down. Consider the basics - Family, Friendship, Work, Daily Living, Spirituality. I don't want to take these things for granted when the power returns and I return to being addicted to the internet, Not Craig to his computer or Fox News. Not talking.

I don't want to take for granted these days without power and what I have learned.

I typically keep myself very busy. There is always something for me to do, to clean, to take care of.

Constant motion.

With the power off, I have slowed. I don't have the ability to do certain things I would typically do and I don't really have the desire to do those things that I could do. Instead, I sit in thought, I do simple things, read, play Yahtzee, listen to the radio, pet the cats.

Today, I have absolutely nothing to do. Hours stretch before me while I wonder how to fill them. While it is relaxing, refreshing, it is also stressful to my Type A personality. How do I do Nothing?

Shouldn't I be doing something?

Of course, I should be doing something. I should be appreciating what I have, enjoying my time with my loved ones, spending time in my favorite activities.

One more lesson from Ike.

The Sweet In Between

It isn’t that I am at an in-between stage anymore. I am in a completely different stage.

The problem is, I haven’t quite figured myself out in this new stage or even exactly what stage I am in, or how to meet and make friends with others in this new stage, whatever it may be.

A stage beyond the last one. A stage where I have left a good friend of mine.

It sucks to notice the different settings we are in. To look back and wish her the best. But know that I am not there anymore and I don’t want to be. She does. This creates a rift.

It might be easier if I had more friends in this new stage. If I could just say, sorry, too busy, can’t do what you want to do.

Instead, I say naaahh, not interested. And stay at home. Because I haven’t quite figured out where I am and how to meet other people that aren’t sure where they are at either. So at least we could be at a spot unknown, together. So I won’t be alone in this in-between.

What I Have To Say Now

Thank you to all for the kind words in response to my last post. They really put a smile on my face when it was hard to stop crying, much less smile. I have wondered exactly how much to tell as it is not my tragedy. It is a tragedy belonging to a family I love very dearly. To a friend I call a sister, to her mother, who I call Mom.

The best I can come up with are just some things I really want to say.

Don’t take life for granted. It can end in moments.

The little things count. Make an impression on someone by simply being friendly, considerate, just there. No matter what.

Get your finances in order. Don’t be caught unexpectedly in an emergency. Have some cash stashed. Have a way to pay for expenses that you never ever ever thought you would have to pay.

Work in a job where they care enough to let you leave at a moment’s notice and for as long as necessary for a friend.

Get a will. Also get a living will. Making your family make those decisions… …. Just don’t make them think about it…. Discuss the undiscussable.

Spend more time with people and not so much time online, cleaning, sleeping, and working.

No matter what you say, you can’t say the right thing to make someone who has lost their dad or their husband feel better. There are a lot of wrong things you can say. Don’t say those.

And never, ever forget to wear sunscreen.

Spent

No matter how many emails you read about capitalizing on today, about living life to its fullest, to appreciating every last bit of life, no matter how many, you won’t do it. Laundry, headaches, bad days will get in the way.

And then, It will happen.

The day that those emails allude to. The Thing You Would Rather Not Think About.

So listen to those cheesy emails that your Great-Aunt from Poughkeepsie sends you. Read them, take them to heart.

Because when It happens, you shouldn’t regret the day that never came.

Fianna will be gone for a little while because It happened to a dear friend of hers. Hug your closest loved one, remember those dear to you, cherish today and tomorrow and 2 weeks from last Wednesday.

Because you won’t have it again. No matter how much laundry has piled up, no matter how many times he left the toilet seat up, no matter what. When it is over, you won’t have another chance.

After This, I Will Step Away From the Soapbox.

I have spent the last week writing about a girl’s best friend – diamonds. You can find the posts here:Preview, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5.

Maybe I just don’t read the right things or watch the right news shows. It just doesn’t seem that this issue is really discussed in mainstream news. It seems to me that mass genocide to provide a market for sparkly finger decorations might be a bit larger on people’s minds. But perhaps not. I do what I can to be a responsible Earth dweller. I recycle, I conserve, I turn off my lights when I leave a room, turn off the water when I brush my teeth. Is this not another responsible Earth dweller concept?

My poor man. One weekend morning, I was up, ready to leave the house and run some errands. He was sleeping in. I mentioned that I was reading this book. He asked how it was going. I went on a diatribe. I don’t want diamonds, but what other stones are acceptable for an engagement ring. And why do I have to have an engagement ring anyway, although I would like one. Sapphire? Ruby? Onyx? Or if instead, a cubic zirconium, isn’t that just further perpetuating the view that women need diamonds. I wear cubic zirconium in my ears and they are pretty. I want them. But that isn’t good. How do I find the proper balance? How do I find an acceptable alternative? What is an acceptable alternative? What stone is completely conflict free? Why do I need a stone? Could I have just a silver band? Where does silver come from? Is silver ok?

Whew…poor man… point is…where does it stop? What becomes acceptable? When do you just give up being absolutely positively correct, and just live in your not so perfect world. I wear clothing made in Bangladesh, Tibet, and Mexico. These can’t be constructed in positive working environments. But I can’t go naked. Cows, pigs and chickens are on my dinner table at night. If I go vegetarian, I am killing plants. Where do you stop worrying about the negative impact you are having on the world and just do your best day to day.

For me, I will do what I feel is right. I may kill animals, force Bolivian children to make my t-shirts and exploit grape vines for my nightly glass of wine, but I will not buy a diamond, or have one bought for me, or otherwise encourage the furtherance of a horrific legacy created by our (Americans) lust for shiny accoutrements. It is a start. Maybe tomorrow, I will compost. Or get my t-shirts strictly from China.

Finally, in a time where the economy is falling down around us, a particular quote on p. 247 of this awesome book struck me. Financial analysts believe a certain internet based diamond store will enjoy strong growth for at least the next 5 years despite how the economy may proceed as a whole. The spokesman for the internet based diamond store explained the reason, “If you think about it, it’s the only luxury product that everybody has to buy.”

If I thought about it, which I did, at length, and wrote a bazillion words about it, it is the one luxury product that I never want. And I hope someone out there who reads this agrees. If I haven’t changed your mind yet, try reading this. And this. And this. And this.

Or watching this:

Kimberley is Better Than Making My 6 Year Old Paint the House: Continuing Series

This is Part 5 of an ongoing series. Other posts in this series - Preview, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.

I haven’t touched on the blood diamond issue much. So far, I have let a video speak on that issue. It is important though to know a bit about a system that the diamond industry has put into place in order to address the matter.

In 2001, through international pressure, the Kimberley Process was created. Kimberley harkening back to the company that DeBeers ran out of business in 1880, which took its name from kimberlite, the material which points to the existence of a diamond deposit. The Kimberley Process is a feel good program, even better for the soul than recycling to save a couple baby seals from being exploited in a Girls Gone Wild video.

Any nation that exports diamonds is required to seal the stones inside a tamperproof container along with a document certifying that they were not mined in the midst of a war. A method to end the sale of blood diamonds, a campaign to make buyers feel all warm inside and able to sleep at night.

“Today’s diamonds from Angola are even more suspect, in some ways, because they carry a veneer of purity while they continue to be mined in a virtual war zone.” (p. 170).

In a conversation with Mark H.G. Van Bockstael, the director if international affairs and trade for the High Diamond Council, the typical face for the Kimberley Process, Mr. Van Bockstael admitted, “In terms of the social atmosphere where diamonds are produced – the Kimberley Process is not at all concerned with that. It is only concerned with a formal definition of war”. (p. 190)

Despite the fact that the diamonds may have been mined at gunpoint, resulting in the deaths of some suspected “smugglers” or “thief’s”, the only way a diamond would be excluded as a blood diamond would be if it came from an actual war zone, a fact that creates much criticism for the Kimberley Process.

Please check out this link for further details on the failures surrounding the Kimberley Process.

How about child labor? Poor Kathie Lee Gifford was strung up for her clothing line. Practically overnight, she became the face of child labor.

Have you ever heard how your diamond goes from being a boring pebble to a gorgeous diamond?

Once a diamond is removed from the ground, it is most likely sent to a Surat, India for polishing and cutting. Surat, near Bombay (Mumbai) is one of the central cities for diamond polishing, holding 92% of the market. As Surat grew more popular among the diamond industry, its population swelled. In 1994, Surat was hit with the bubonic plague.

Child labor was frequent in these mills, but in recent years, this has receded in larger operations. Although it is estimated that 20% of the workforce in Surat is underage, that number amounts to 100,000 children polishing our little trinkets. Further, the dust created from the polishing process has been shown to be related to asthma and lung fibrosis, sometimes fatal.

Don’t worry, I have another link to prove I am not making this stuff up.

Tomorrow, I will be wrapping all this up. Maybe. If you ask nicely.

DeBeers? Cuddly as a Teddy Bear? Or Not.

This is Part 4 of an ongoing series. Other posts in this series - Preview, Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

Ten times each year, approximately 80 men in the world meet in London. Each one is led to a room. An attendant gives them a box containing diamonds of varying types and sizes. They are expected to pay the price offered. There are no negotiations. The diamonds released at these sessions, represent just under half of the total carats released every month. Only 80 men are invited to these sessions, the companies they represent have been deemed worthy by DeBeers to distribute the stones. “To be a “sightholder” also means you have convinced De Beers you will not make waves by selling too much of the box at wholesale, or by protesting the quality of your allotment. In exchange for docility, you are virtually guaranteed to make a healthy profit from your box.” A former high-ranking De Beers official told Tom Zoellner, the author of an incredible book I am highlighting, that every box was calculated to release exactly the right amount of stones into the market. Enough to meet consumer demand, but not enough to cause the price to fall. (p. 118). Three floors below this exchange, is the world’s largest stockpile of unpolished diamonds, which are doled out at a controlled rate, but to De Beers, they remain much more valuable right where they are. “The continued stability of the diamond industry depends on an artificial scarcity created by De Beers. . . . De Beers has managed the remarkable feat of operating a 17^th century economic model in a 21^st century world, thus ensuring that a mineral not so rare in nature fetches a price far beyond what its value would be in a truly free market.” (p. 119).

DeBeers started out as a crooked company. In 1880, Cecil Rhodes created the DeBeers Mining Company. Barney Barnato was the chairman of the Kimberley Central. These 2 companies fought each other in their attempts to buy up more claims to the South African diamond mines that had been found to date. Rhodes, cunningly, offered Barnato a deal where Rhodes would buy the company owned by Barnato, in order to avoid a bidding war, selling it back to Barnato for 300,000 pounds. Rhodes asked only for a fifth of the outstanding stock in Kimberley Central. Barnato, unable to see any detriment, agreed. Rhodes then instructed his brokers to buy up all outstanding shares in Kimberley Central at any cost. As a result, Barnato conceded defeat. DeBeers became the sole cartel. In 1888, Rhodes told his shareholders, that DeBeers aimed for nothing less than to become, “The richest, the greatest, and the most powerful company the world has ever seen.” (p. 127). De Beers then created 2 defining policies, 1- mining production was cut by half, creating an artificial scarcity, and 2 - a single channel for distribution of the stones was created, the forerunner of the sightholder system outlined above that continues today in London.

DeBeers claims it is not a monopoly, of course. “If this is a monopoly, it is a monopoly based on the popular support of its consumers” said an internal memo. “De Beers has no actual power to coerce these producers to sell their diamonds through De Beers.” In 1981, this “freedom” was extremely evident in Zaire. Zaire, one of the most poverty stricken countries in the world, it became unhappy with its relationship with De Beers. It sought an agreement with independent European countries to distance itself from De Beers. De Beers, kindly struck back, releasing a flood of diamonds, driving down prices and forcing Zaire’s industry into near collapse. When in business with the cartel, Zaire received about $3 per carat. PER CARAT! When it struck away from De Beers, it received less than half that. Two years after its attempt at striking away from the cartel, Zaire went back under its wing. One executive was reported to say, “Anyone want to follow Zaire?” (p. 155) Sure doesn’t sound like a monopoly to me. But then again, maybe I am deaf, dumb and incredibly stupid.

One of my great skills, despite my deafness, dumbness and stupidity, is Google-ing. This site shows that in order to get a 1 carat diamond, I would have to pay $7,500-$10,000. The same 1 carat that the finder was paid $3.00 for.

Let’s go back to World War II. Diamond tipped tools became crucial for cutting parts for tank engines and airplanes. As the war progressed, the German invasion of North Africa caused fears that the U.S. was in danger of losing its source of industrial diamonds in the Congo. De Beers, of course, had control over these diamonds. Through the Depression, DeBeers hoarded surplus diamonds in order to keep prices high. It entered the war era with direct control of 95% of the world’s diamond supply. Those gems were now critical to the Allied forces in fighting the Nazis, but the cartel refused to sell them to American arms factories. Its “logic”? If the U.S. was allowed to build up a reserve of these industrial diamonds and the war suddenly ended, all the diamonds could be sold off and would crash the market. Let that settle in a bit. I can wait. This is the company that right now, is holding the diamond you want on your finger.

The ads DeBeers used at this time? “To the chagrin of our enemy, our side controls almost the entire supply of another kind of diamond to do the countless jobs of speed and skill in pouring out armaments… Your lovely gemstone has helped put them to work!” Let me put this together for you. DeBeers refused to release diamonds for the U.S. to use in creation of weapons to fight the Nazis, yet they advertised that by putting a diamond on your pretty little finger, you are helping to bring down Hitler himself. (p. 137-140)

I personally call that talking out of both sides of your mouth. Or being a dickwad. Whatever.

Video Friday - Blood Diamonds Edition

This video can also be found here.

Other posts in this series - Preview, Part 1, and Part 2.

Do You Feel Duped? The Heartless Stone, Fianna's Report - Part 2

This is Part 2 of an ongoing series.

The preview can be found here.

Part 1 is here.

Diamond engagement rings are a relatively new trend. The giving of a ring to mark a union leads back to the Roman Empire. It was first documented among soldiers of the Roman Empire who marked their chosen woman with straps of leather tied around their fingers. The practice lived on symbolically through metal bands and has long been a part of Christian wedding ceremonies. However, in the 1930’s, it was not common to link a diamond with the arrangement. (p. 68) Diamonds were more likely associated with Bugsy Siegel or Al Capone than a young bride.

It was not until the 1930’s that the metal band was replaced in our minds (American minds, this is not a worldwide practice as I will mention with respect to Japan later on) with a diamond utilizing a clever marketing scheme that supplanted all previous traditions. Diamonds were “interesting to look at, but hardly practical, and certainly nothing that a young working family would want to buy.” (p.68). Beginning in the ‘30’s, a strong marketing campaign of DeBeers created a mind shift.

The phrase “A Diamond Is Forever” was created at 4 A.M. by a tired female copywriter, tasked with creating a tagline. As stated by an executive of DeBeers, “In these four words are concentrated all the emotional and physical properties of a diamond.” Oh really? Hmmm... The emotional properties of a diamond? My grandparents, married as teenagers, whose marriage lasted until my grandfather passed away, didn’t need a diamond to signify their marriage was forever. My great-grandparents, nope. Now, with a burgeoning divorce rate, we must have diamonds to symbolize that we will be together forever?

Consider this, I know I am guilty of it. When I hear a friend has become engaged, I grab their left hand. What would you think if a couple did not have an engagement ring? My first thought, even now, would be, why are they engaged if they can’t afford an engagement ring? I hope my thoughts will soon shift to the point that when a friend does not have a sparkly left hand, my first inclination will be, “Excellent, now they can afford a down payment on a house.”

Ladies, get this figure. A 1990 marketing survey suggested that a stunning 59% of men would choose to put key investments, like a mortgage, in jeopardy, to buy you a ring. The years of marketing have changed our culture so greatly, to place it in men’s mind that in order to prove himself worthy, he must provide a dowry, a sacred ring, that wasn’t so sacred just a half-century earlier.

In 1960, DeBeers attention focused on Japan, a country, at the time, with less than 100,000 carats in imports annually. Just 30 years later, following a marketing campaign that, like the one used in the U.S., changed a cultural tradition, imports had increased to 4.1 million carats. “What happened there was still held up – wisely or not – as a signature example of how a well-marketed product could ingratiate itself into the culture, even more completely than it had in America” (p.81).

So, what is the proper amount to spend on an engagement ring? Two months, right?

Ever consider where that came from? Did you know that in Great Britain, the standard amount is one month salary.

How about in Japan?

Three months salary.

When asked about the difference by Tom Zoellner, the author of the book I quote so extensively from, a DeBeers representative said, “We were, quite frankly, trying to bid them up”. (p. 81)

Does this nauseate you as much as it does me? Does this statement resonate greatly with you? A standard, what has become a cultural standard that us women, as the recipients of these items, as the ooohhhers and awwwerrrrs of such items, we are being played with by these DeBeers execs.

Aren’t we lucky to be in the middle price range of their marketing scheme? Americans, while not as fortunate as the 1 month Brits, we are better off than those poor Japanese, who were strung into the DeBeers marketing net at a later time, when DeBeers realized they could milk the poor gents for 3 months income.

Japan, at the peak of the diamond engagement ring craze, 9 out of 10 marrying couples had a diamond ring. Interestingly, in 2006, it had declined to 5 out of ten. Japan is wising up to the DeBeers marketing scheme. When will we?

The idea that if a man is willing to spend 1-3 months salary, (depending on where he is fortunate enough to live), he must be committed, he must be worthy, to marry. If he is willing to lay down months of income to buy a trinket, is that proof of love?

I would rather my spouse save that money for a house, a car, retirement accounts, hell, a honeymoon, than for a trinket that I am bound to drop into the bathroom sink, snag on my pantyhose, or otherwise quit wearing because I will lose it or cut myself with it somehow.

The Heartless Stone - Fianna's Report, Part 1

A few weeks back at church, Dikembe Mutombo was mentioned. He is from the Congo, a country on a continent that continues to experience war, a militia ruled way of life. Mutombo originally came to the U.S. to become a doctor. Being 7+ feet tall, he was recruited into basketball, where he has spent the last 17 years. He now plays with the Houston Rockets.

A person I work with on a regular basis, adopted a girl from the Congo a couple years back. At the time of the adoption, there were discussions about the treatment of women in the Congo at the time and the need for intervention, and absent that intervention, a need for the adoption of the orphans of the war that has drug on through the country. It has been wonderful to follow this lucky girl’s story since she came to the States, where she is quickly becoming a typical U.S. teenager.

When I sat down to write this initially, I pulled up a few things on the Congo. I include the following quote, not to frighten or shock or disgust anyone (although it will). I include it because I don’t think I can do justice with words of my own on how this is going to haunt me. By including it, I hope it haunts you and makes you understand why I have turned a book into a multi-part blog series.

On July 30, 2007, a report by Yakin Erturk, special rapporteur for the United Nations Human Rights Council on violence against women, found extreme sexual violence against women is pervasive in the DRC and local authorities do little to stop it or prosecute those responsible. Her report also found 'women are gang raped, often in front of their families and communities. In numerous cases, male relatives are forced at gun point to rape their own daughters, mothers or sisters.' Survivors told Ertuck that after rape, many women are held as slaves by the gangs and forced to eat excrement or the flesh of their murdered relatives. (Link)

My interest in the region of the world where this is occurring started because of the adoption of that girl. Some time after that, I saw Blood Diamond. Currently, I am reading a book right at the heart of this, which is why this is so large on my radar. The Heartless Stone by Tom Zoellner. I have done some web research in order to supplement what is going to end up being quite a long book report. Otherwise, all facts, all quotes, come from this book. I have referenced page numbers on many portions I have quoted or otherwise plagiarized. This book is phenomenal. I devoured it, I cried, I was moved enough that it has 30+ dog-eared pages and the library has refused to allow me to renew it for a 3^rd time. Therefore, I am going to be paying a hefty fine for the privilege of holding onto this book for much longer than I should have. I recommend that you read it on your own. I have highlighted things about the diamond trade that struck me. I have left out many, many things.

Over the next few days, I will be posting about diamonds. I hesitate to call them blood diamonds, because people will say, there is a certification process to ensure that blood diamonds cease to exist. The issue is much larger than blood diamonds. It is a culture. A culture created by some clever marketing over the past 60-70 years.

Sit down, buckle up.

What Would Mrs. Wilson Do?

Sometimes the right thing is so hard to do. At work, we have picked up a saying, If Jesus was standing right next to you, what would you do?

It keeps us a little more honest, a little kinder and hell, we work with attorneys, we need all the salvation we can get.

I changed my course of action yesterday based on this. It was slightly painful, but the truth will set you free, I hear.

Substitute Jesus for whichever deity you would like, substitute it for your mom, your dog, your 1^st grade teacher. Whatever it takes for you to stop doing a slightly dishonorable or outright unbelievably horrible thing, and make you take the high road, because after all, karma is a bitch.

Don’t think that wrong action won’t come back and bite you. It will, in some way, someday.

Later in the day, a co-worker commented that he had been considering my past few months and was struck by what had been going on in my life – because in order to handle it, I had to be quite a resilient person, as well as a flexible one.

I was surprised by the comment, again, I work with attorneys and said sayer is an attorney, so I was quite appreciative that he noticed I had a life and actual things happening in it.

I think that most of the time, we don’t notice our own accomplishments. And moreover, I don’t know that we should take credit for keeping on, keeping on.

And perhaps that is my dilemma, should I really need to have a golden light watching over my shoulder keeping me straight. Shouldn’t I just do right? Should I really get a pat on the back for going to work, paying my bills, and being nice to people?

Shouldn’t I just do these things and go home and cook dinner, take out the trash and keep at it.

Do we really need these reminders to do well and to stay sane?

Obviously yes, because I feel better for doing the right thing at work. And I felt great that someone recognized that I am not a quivering mess.

So recognize someone in your life that is doing what they should with a situation. They could have screwed over someone, but they took the high road. They chose to do right, no matter what. They could have let life bowl them over until they were drooling into their oatmeal, but they just kept plowing ahead.

Recognize those small things in yourself.

Happiness Schmapiness

A couple days ago, I was looking around my sparsely furnished apartment, looking in wonder at the few things that I have here in Houston. I am tired of sitting on the floor, I am tired of not having the comforts I am used to. I started thinking of how cheap I am. How I rarely will splurge on anything pricey. How I can afford more, yet I don’t allow myself these items.

I was actually down on myself for this. I buy cheap. I buy secondhand. I comparison shop. And perhaps, most notably right now, I do without. And I was feeling bad about this. Felt that I should do more. I should go buy myself a couch. I should buy myself that chair I want for my foyer, where I can chat with that secretary I need to hire. I should get some better, higher thread count sheets. I need, I need, I need.

However, I have been holding back. Not wanting to spend much money. Knowing that this situation is temporary. I will have my old comfy sheets sometime in the future, I will have a couch, I will move my camping chairs from my living room to my foyer, where my secretary and I will chat about what that crazy bitch Britney did this week.

I am not in debt, I don’t want to get back into debt. And the Good Lord knows, my rent doesn’t justify any extra expenditures. But dammit, I work my ass off. I deserve more. It will make me more comfortable. It will make me happy. I am just going to buy myself those things I deserve.

W. T. F. !

Hold Up. Wait A Minute.

Screw that, I told myself. My belongings don’t make me happy. Hell, over the past 10 years, I have given away so much of the crap I have bought anyway. Why would I need to buy more crap?

Crap isn’t what makes me happy.

And hell, who cares if I am happy or not.

I was never promised Happy.

This culture drives me fucking crazy.

Entitlement makes me livid. You don’t deserve a thing. What you get, be thankful for. Work hard to get more. Put out good things, hopefully you get good things back, and if you don’t, oh well, at least you made other lives better.

As for your job, screw job satisfaction, you should be happy you have a job. Who cares if you have a comfy couch. Be happy, you have a roof. Your family, your loved ones driving you crazy? Be happy you have them to drive you crazy.

This post made me start thinking about these things.

To me, the most important point of the link is this quote: When money or health is a problem, you think about it all the time; when it’s not a problem, you don’t think much about it. Both money and health contribute to happiness mostly in the negative; the lack of them brings much more unhappiness than possessing them brings happiness. One of the greatest luxuries that money and health provide is the freedom from having to think about them.

So, if you have a bit of money, you have a bit of health…get busy. Stop thinking about not having enough of either just by staying busy. If you are busy, you are working, you are active, you don’t have time to consider how little you have. How little happiness, how little money. In the end, what do you really want, anyway?

I think I can do without that couch, those sheets, or that secretary for now.

That Roomba?

Hmm….damn, I take this back. All of it.

Didn't Tesla Sing About This?

I am a firm believer in things happening for a reason. I am also of the belief that God leads you through this messed up life, directing your path. Of course, we can also take detours and screw things up all on your own, but He tries to get us to quit being such dumbasses and follow the path that we should be on. I also believe that God is accepting of me saying dumbasses and other cuss words all over the innernets. My God is an awesome God.

What is scaring the pants off me right now is, is this whole Houston business the way it should be? Was this laid out as it should have been laid out? Or is this me being a dumbass?

I sure would like a sign. Some small or big neon sign that would just reassure my pansy ass that I am doing what is best for our future. Could someone check my back and let me know if there is a “Kick Me” sign back there. Because that seems to be the only sign I feel that I have received.

Intuition. Follow it, love it, worship it. Yet, I am bucking it every day. Is that good or bad? How do you make good decisions - with your heart or your head?

How do you know you are doing the right thing?

And the Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

Damn CAP! Here she goes again. She apparently did not receive the memo wherein it was discussed that I would not cry anymore this week. I love her so much. I totally have a hetero girl crush on her.

The moment today that made me smile so much in this post was relating to when I told a particularly judgmental friend about my Houston news. I hadn’t really felt like telling her before as I am still working my way through it on my own. I am trying to figure out how I feel about it. Making peace with the decision and the aftermath. She asked if I wanted to know her opinion. I said no. She responded, a bit surprised, “Really?” and I said, “No, I really don’t want to know what you think”.

We each get chances every day to make decisions, some tiny as in what way to take to work. Some a bit larger - should I wear this slutty-ish skirt to work today? And some really big, should I change my entire life today? Everyone is going to make their own decisions, make big and small decisions every day with the best information they have at that very moment. Decide what to put in their coffee, whether to have a second helping of casserole, paper or plastic. Decide to go back to school after a 20 year hiatus, to move to a new city, to change lanes, both in reality and metaphorically. Each decision made is what that person thought was best at that exact moment in time. Each person is going to be judged by others in their life as to how wise each decision was. You can listen and second guess your self, or you can simply ignore what everyone else has to say and move on. Keep making decisions, keep making your path, and just keep on keeping on.

My Lie

Here it is, Fun Monday so soon again. But as my last few posts have shown, I am not in a fun mood recently. I have been down in the dumps for a couple days now. I wrote this post and well, it isn't happy, it isn't fun, but it is oh so true.

So it stands.

But I will try to get cheery over the next couple of days. I promise. Or I will just start drinking before I blog. Hmmm...maybe this post can wait until I get a Shiner...brb....please entertain yourself while I take a drinking break...

mmmm....better already....

My lie is told by many, many women. I know I inherited the gene from my mother, who inherited it from her mother and so it goes back to Sweden where maybe this genetic defect originated. Damn Swedes.

So here we go:


I repeatedly tell a lie. The same lie over and over. I catch myself in the middle of it, yet am unable to hold back, take it back or admit the truth.

I say, I can do it. I can take care of it. I can handle everything. I can handle each and every task that is asked of me, along with my eleventy billion things already on my list and keep the house spotless and have a 7 course meal on the table promptly at 6:00.

I liken myself to Superwoman. I can do it all. In heels, with a smile. You need me to iron this shirt for you? Go buy a box of Twinkies? Complete all these TPS reports by 8:00 A.M. tomorrow? Sure, just as soon as I pick the house up off this poor little old woman and detail the car.

I know this is my problem. I know that all it would take is a single, one syllable word. No. But who do I need to say that simple word to? Them or myself?

I know that half of the problem is my neuroses. The world needs to be perfect, complete and well-dusted.

I know that I should ease up on myself. I know that if I did, if I could, I could be a lot happier, a lot more in the moment.

And I do. I ease up. I let the laundry basket get full, I let the trash overflow. I let dishes sit in the sink. I am proud of my ability to be (for me) slothful.

And then…. I am asked to stop at the store and pick up a 12 pack of Cokes. My boss asks me to redo the 17th revision of a Motion. And I am exhausted and overwhelmed. And I probably get tears. And then I start the vicious cycle again. My home is made spotless through the tears, my surroundings become organized while inside I crumble.

Yet I continue to do it. Because I am a liar. I can do it all. But I really can’t do it all. And I know that all I have done is lie. To you, to him, to her, to the cats. But most of all, to myself.

TWF Seeking INBFF

As you get older, your friends thin out. The things that you had in common, school, classes, boys, love for the mall, begin to fade. Your common links become less and less.

Yet it is so hard to let go, to separate yourself from this person you called your best friend, your good friend, your buddy for so many years.

But I have moved past wanting a vacuous relationship based on a common interest in Macy’s shoe department. I don’t care to discuss ad nauseam what he means when he calls the day after you put out but doesn’t want to get together until 2 weeks from Friday.

I don’t want to go have over-priced margaritas while we talk about how that bitch you work with wore an outfit that didn’t match and she will probably get promoted even though she doesn’t deserve it, just because she has big tits.

I want to move past that, I want to grow up. I want to talk about our dreams for the future, how to save enough money to buy a house, how we are sick of boys and want to be treated right and find a man that is ready to settle down and buy a dog and watch CNBC with.

I would rather get together for an inexpensive meal at my place and watch a movie, than go get our drink on at the local meat market.

.......

How do you transform an early 20’s friendship into a mature one? How do you not leave your closest friend behind when you have moved past their greatest interests?

Can you walk the fine line between the two?

Happy Half Anniversary to Me

It has been six months since I was an employee of Busy Law Firm, LLC. Six months since the alarm was going off because I had to face the day. Six months since I have received a paycheck. Six months since I cried my eyes out all day and then most of the way home.

I never thought I would be unemployed six months after leaving Houston. I fully expected to move here, get a job, work all day, come home, cook dinner and start it all over at 6 A.M. the next day. I expected to have a paycheck, health insurance and a 401K contribution.

Instead, I chose to stay home. My “job” is Ebay. A job situation where I have cried and moaned and pretty much drove my love insane. I have worked from the time I woke up until many hours after I should have gone to bed. I have contemplated and pulled out my resume several times in the past few months. Although, it took me 3 months to even look at updating it.

Instead of working 8-5, I have chosen to set my own hours, my own goals, my own priorities. In the process, I have learned a lot about myself. I am an extremely hardworker. Even when the payoff is small or doesn’t exist. I don’t accept failure. I have an amazing tenacity. I take my work very seriously. I lose myself in my work.

I have learned that my drive doesn’t always line up with my values. I have learned that I lose sight of the important things in my life in pursuit of succeeding or winning. I have learned that I ignore the people I love the most in order to get ahead.

I have a daily struggle with my decision. Should I continue doing something that may never pay me more than minimum wage? It is difficult for me to ask for money from my dear. He has no difficulty in giving it to me, he wishes that I would stop fretting about it so. I am very stubborn and expect to pay my own way. I am working on accepting that I don’t have to receive a paycheck to be a valuable member of our team.

I am still unable to reconcile my decision with some of my beliefs. First of all, I would not be doing this had I any debt. I have a cell phone bill and health insurance. Sure, rent, food, etc… but monthly bills coming in are just those two. I have not contributed to my savings account in sometime. While we were in transition from me leaving Houston to come out here, I did deplete my savings by a bit. Expecting to start working when we came here, it was of no concern to me, as I would quickly replace it. I haven’t. And, to my surprise, I am ok with that for now.

I expect a lot of people to have negative things to say in response to this post. My friends and family have said things that have hurt, why wouldn’t strangers? To be honest, I can be quite negative about the whole affair as well.

Why do I stick with it? Why haven’t I just sucked it up, polished up the resume, the shoes and gotten a job already?
Before moving out here, my love and I had a long distance relationship. I worked an intense day job, went to the gym, cooked myself dinner, kept the apartment clean and crashed, exhausted at the end of the day. On weekends, one of us would drive to see the other. We spent a ridiculous amount of the weekend sleeping. Exhausted from the week. I received late night and weekend calls from my boss. I worked on weekends. I stressed out on weekends, thinking about work. I dreamed about work.

I moved to where he was in training after I left Houston. I woke up when he went to work. Puttered about the apartment, cleaning, picking toes, worked out a bit. We had lunch together. I puttered the afternoon away. Then made dinner. We would have dinner, talk, watch TV and go to bed. For the first month after moving out here, our lives continued in much the same way. I set up the apartment, did a bit of decorating. Cooked a lot. Read a lot of books. I made excuses to myself as to why it wasn’t time to start looking for a job.

On weekends, we would sleep late, sure, but both of our stress levels had decreased tremendously. We enjoyed each other much more than we could during our rushed weekends of spending time, de-stressing and sleeping.

My replacement at Busy Law Firm called me almost daily at the beginning. The job I left was quite involved and completely new to her. I heard the daily gossip. I dealt with the drama firsthand at times. I received the stressful calls from my former boss. And when I hung up, I continued about my day, potting plants, dusting, watching trash TV.

I didn’t want this dream life to end. I wished that I came from a trust fund. I wished that I won the lottery, although I never play. I wished that I was smart with real estate and could flip homes. Most of all, I wished that there was a way for me to not change the ideal living conditions we had.

One day, I woke up ridiculously early, on my own. With a single thought - Ebay. I had sold on it before, things I didn’t want any longer. Things I found. Etc., etc. Why not make it my job? I could set my hours and the boss, well besides being hot, was really nice!

So I set about doing so. I am a Type A personality, extremely organized and detail-oriented. I made maps of the surrounding cities, mapped out all the thrift stores/flea markets. I went to the library each Thursday, mapped out all garage sales and estate sales going on. Created a list of the order in which I would visit each. I created spreadsheets. I read and read the Ebay forums. I poured everything I had into it.

After a month or so of selling, I created another spreadsheet, calculating the costs/earnings. And I cried. Oh, I cried. I had lost money. And since then, I keep the spreadsheet up on a weekly basis. Some weeks, I am ahead a bit, but then in bad weeks, I get behind a bit. I am definitely making better gains in the past month. I have opened a store on the Bay, I am learning what works and what doesn’t.

Will I become rich off this project? No way. Will I be able to pay my small bills? Sure. Will I be able to build my savings up? Possibly. Will my life be better for this choice? Absolutely.

I expect to return to a regular job sometime. But I cannot say this is just the part of me that is trained to believe you must work, you must be an employee, always on the big hamster wheel. Recently, I have been thinking I will stay out of the workforce for a year. But wow, if I am only halfway there... What an amazing 6 months we have in store. The last 6 months have been a huge rollercoaster of emotions.

I often think that I could go back to work and do the Bay as a hobby. This is a possibility, but I feel that I wouldn’t be giving my love enough time or attention, I would slack on other things to work on Ebay. And that is not what I want. What I have learned during these stressful months of self-helpy-ness, is that quality time with loved ones and quality time with yourself is what is important.

My values are becoming better defined. I may have tearful fits now and again, but I am happier now than I ever was working in Busy Law Firm. I am happier with my entire life than I have ever been in my life. And that is what is important to me.