Wednesday, April 30, 2008

A Blast From the Past

I am completely blaming everything on my wardrobe today. My new royal blue, fitted trench, which was a complete steal from Nine West, a periwinkle blue cowl neck shirt. I double – blued it today and what happens? I see my ex..probably the only one who I would call ex before the husband because we had a potential of walking down the per the ‘3 year trial run’ fake engagement ring he gave me, even though we never made it past 7 months even after picking up again. That was 12 years ago and why does it still bother me? Because the one reason why I’ve hated my birthday..was it marked the day he broke up with me. After dropping off my car at the dealer for service today and having to sit in the waiting room for almost an hour for valet service back to the office, who walks over to me but him. We chatted, caught up so to say and I think for some strange reason it cleared whatever dust particles were left in the air after we broke up. He hasn’t changed much, aside from a few irrelevant weights and measures but I am glad to see he’s done something good with his life and bounced back after a divorce and getting married again. Amazing what 12 years can do to a person, even if for just conversation purposes “you look great” rolled smoothly off his tongue. After all the times I’ve brought my car there, eventually I would have ran into him or ran him over.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Would you care for some Grey Poupon?

Almost every day when its not nicer than 75 degrees out, I sit at my desk and eat my lunch. I occasionally indulge in reading a trashy novel of some sort or a crime drama where eventually the two main characters end up in bed together to delude my day for at least an hour. These tedious distractions take me far far away from the constant banter I hear from down the hall in the oh-so-art deco open area kitchen and the unmentionable sounds that I am surrounded by. The banter is from ladies who will sit and complain about everyone, yet, they never will complain directly to their supervisor about anything, they want someone else to fight their battle. The same group sits at the same table at the same time, surrounding themselves with a bag of Lays potato chips, asking everyone who eats their lunch in there a series of questions. “What is that?” “Did you make that?” “Where did you find the recipe?” “Oh, I made one just like that”…typical irrelevant conversation. I occasionally sit in there to read when no one else is in there, because it’s a different atmosphere and I get to people watch to make these blogs a little bit more interesting. Did I mention the guy who had loafers on but no socks? Anyway, as lunch goes on, I don’t think people realize that their voice travels down the hall into the cubicle world we reside in about nine hours a day because if they did, I sure wouldn’t be writing this. I hear everything…and I have been able to block out the microwave sounding that lunch is ready, in similar fashion to a dinner bell. I can also tell who’s in there, and that serves its purpose when Creepy guy is in there, the alarm goes off to everyone else to ‘stay out of the kitchen’. And yes, the banter from the kitchen is like a flock of crows cawing, scaring others away who would normally sit in the kitchen and eat. You are probably wondering why I wouldn’t go out to eat, well, that gets expensive, but when the weather is nice, I do go outside to eat at the picnic table, where I can hear the soothing acoustic sounds of a one man band show on guitar, while working on my tan. Now, the unmentionable sounds that I have become accustomed to after sitting here for such a short time, besides people from three aisles over clearing their throats and nasal congestion, I get serenaded after lunch by a fart-while-I-walk and sit old man. I have to give him props for just freely letting one go every now and then, at times he sounds like a symphony without an accompanying trailing smell. Do you think he’d mind if I turned around and high five him “Hey, that was a good one!” Hum, I might just have to try that one day.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Just Be Yo-self

If you can't be yourself around certain people in your life, that should strike up a red flag. AND if they won't accept who you are and then want to change you or expect you to change for I even have to go there?

So be yourself...don't change it if it ain't broken and don't do it for anyone other than yourself. Because in the end, the only person you have to answer YOU.

Sunday, April 20, 2008


Hello Mr. Sunday Night, its been a while I know, but I haven’t had much to say. In fact it was almost 2 months since I wrote a poem until the other night. Unfortunately I’m not sharing this one with my readers just yet, it’s still very delicate and fragile to me as I again pour out my feelings on paper as I so often do in a way that is usually misunderstood by you anyway – my intention though words always creep up by surprise. Words don’t come so easy these days, I guess that could mean a few different things, that I am content or that things haven’t annoyed me lately. Its not worth analyzing over right now, at least my fingers are at rest from the staggered keys I normally punch so violently. Either way, I’m downing 3 aspirin tonight to get me thru the night’s aches and pains from the tournament yesterday. I’d give Arod a run for his money at 3rd but right now, I’d rather be sharing chocolate covered strawberries, a glass of champagne and a hot tub, hmmm, maybe I’ll just think about that for now because doing is not an option tonight.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Warning - Rising Waters

I don’t know why I never noticed this before. Why it occurred to me, why I just happened to look down and see a flood. But I did, and I kept looking for the next flood after another and the hits just keep on coming in all directions, from both men and women. I have never seen so many flood offenders in my life in one place. I will admit there were times where my pants length did not measure up but not on a daily basis. To top it off, gingham checked shirts are widespread, and I’m not sure half these people have looked in the mirror lately or if their clothes are laid out for them the night before. There is a big difference between gingham and plaid, and mostly flannel shirts come in plaid, gingham is used for table clothes. Of course I’m sure Stacy and Clinton on TLC’s “What Not To Wear’ would be astonished to know how many offenders we have in one location, they might even designate a Fashion Prevention Day. But like all of you, I too am an offender so I’m not perfect either, but at least I don’t walk around with 3 pens in my pocket that are all the same while sporting my high school varsity jacket.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Gazing out my Window....

He made me want to become a better person and that is when I started looking at life in a different way. I stopped dreading things and just learned to enjoy them realizing that not every moment had to be planned and perfect and followed by stress. I started sleeping better at night, not worrying all the time about stupid things in my life, and I began to dream again, and not that it was a good thing but it was a start even after we had a bedtime story or two. I can’t give him all the credit though, because I had to step back and take a deep breath before this brainstorm appeared out of the blue. Whether it was hours or days ago, our first date, the first movie we saw and when we saw it (he has to fill in the blanks since my memory seems to fail) it will always be just as sweet as the dessert we shared. As I type this in my cherished spot by the front window at my living room table, with a little touch of enlightening background music, I know you could be reading this while we share the same sunset.

Saturday, April 5, 2008

Where's My Magic Wand

“I’m not gonna write you a love song, cuz you asked for it, cuz you need one” because you want something new to read from my perspective. So I’ve taken time off from writing, it just doesn’t magically appear from my fingertips to the key strokes, I’m not going to force the words to come out. I have to be inspired by something, or even pissed off. Maybe I just want to vent, or speak to no one just because. Maybe I want to speak to you – silently because I know you read this once in a while, things that I might be afraid to say but are more inclined to type out. Or maybe, just maybe I do this for me. Denying a request to write something isn’t my thing, however, asking me nicely is always an option. But don’t expect anything ASAP, because blank stares at blank pages don’t provide a kaleidoscope of colors for any type of inspiration. And “I need a better reason to write you a love song today” because if I did, I wouldn’t post it anyway.