The Fire Under My Ass.

"If your presence adds no value to my life, then your absence will make no difference."

Y'all know what happens when I get fired up? A blog happens. 

Today, the fire under my ass is fueled by inconsiderate people. I guess that what they say is true: no two people are exactly same. Some share characteristics, some don't. Some people mesh well, some don't. Some people are friendly & caring, some aren't. Some people just flat out can't help but fucking suck, and some are so fake that they probably don't even know who the hell they even are. And then there are folks like me, who are naturally programmed to try and save the world. 

At this point in my life, I know that I'm a "mastermind"...which I've personally defined as intuitive, smart & paranoid. I know that I should follow my gut because I'm rarely wrong about people. I know this. Trouble is, knowing is only half the battle. I normally end up snapped back to reality by a slap in the face from a hunch I ignored while trying to see the best in people. Fuck that. 

I just want the world to know the following four things: 

1. If you aren't humble enough to return a favor less than 24 hours later, if you're that damn selfish and greedy...you should expect nothing else from me. 

2. If you're so self absorbed that you'd rather miss a big milestone in a loved one's life than have to wait a little longer to do something vain for yourself...you probably shouldn't come around me. 

3. If you want a valuable friend, you'll be one. If you want to lay comfortably, you'll make your bed that way. If you want a crop worth reaping, you'll sow it accordingly. Either way, you're gonna get what you put in from me. No more, no less. 

4. And, don't think for one second that I'm going to quietly stand by and watch anyone treat me or mine like shit..especially raunchy, stank ass, rotten, no good for nothing fucking people who don't even deserve the time it took me to type those nasty words.

Yes, my inner bitch has been provoked. I hate to be mean, I hate to hurt people's feelings. But you better believe that if the choice is before me to either to hurt yours or let you hurt mine, things aren't gonna work out in your favor. Consider yourself warned. 

And I think I'll leave you with that...carry on, now. :) 

I'm An Oxymoron.

My lack of blogs lately is bound to be disappointing to you avid and loyal readers, but rest assured that I have not gone lame. Promise. It's just that recently I've been having trouble thinking of subjects to write about. I mean, a few things have happened that are note-worthy, I just don't think I could make a full story out of them. I've really been trying for a few days to come up with something I care to elaborate on enough for a blog; I've decided that my brain is stuck. Maybe it's that dag-blasted writer's block?

So, let's see....what can I tell you? 

The other day Chris, Damion and I planted a crap load of stuff. I've got a wildflower bed, and sunflower bed, a small veggie garden, and a bunch of pots with pretty things planted in them. It's very nice. I love flowers...I'm not real good at keeping them alive though, I'm not even gonna lie. But I'm gonna give it the old college try again this year! Oh...gotta throw something funny in here ---> while we were digging one of thirty-something holes to drop sunflower seeds in, Damion grabbed a vine and pulled it off the tree, held it up and goes..."Hey Dad, is this poison oak?!" Something about that string of events seemed a little off to me....the boy is something else, he's normally good for a laugh or two per day. 

Earlier today one of my fellow coworkers walked by my desk and mentioned something about "stuck-up old ladies." I immediately drifted back a year or so to last spring when me and Casey Chadwell were chillin' at the Dam Site Inn in Hell, Michigan...eating some food that was hot as...well, hell. There were like, 10 little old ladies in purple hats in there eating and gossiping and drinking beers, being just as awesome as 10 little old ladies wearing purple hats in Hell could possibly be. I got tickled, remembering that Casey had said to me..."Who knew there'd be so many old people in Hell?" It was just too much. Shortly after that one of the old men that was driving one of three car-loads of purple hatted old ladies said to us in the parking lot..."I'm not sure why I drove so fast to get here...gonna end up here eventually anyhow." Clever, was he. Then I snapped out of it and realized that what my coworker had actually said was.. "stock up on groceries"...ha, maybe I am going lame. But that reminds me...

I'm broke as hell. It's never-ending. But I keep hoping that maybe, just maybe, one of these checks will include some money that I can blow on stuff that's cool instead of bills and gas. Y'all cross your fingers now, mama needs a new pair of shoes! Ha. 

Two Fridays ago, Jdale and I went to Firefresh BBQ for dinner with my parental units. Afterwards we ran over to Lowe's to get some pipe to fix their water leak. Riding through the parking lot, Jdale says to me..."God, I've got to poop. I'm going to have to poop in Lowe's." We all walk in the door at Lowe's laughing at the power walk stride that she's commenced, then go our separate ways: mom and randy to the plumbing isle, me to the flowers, Jdale, of course to the shitter. About 10 minutes later she comes walking back to me, with a look of shame on her face that I'd never before seen...she's not one to embarrass easily, mind you. I can't help but laugh obnoxiously as she tells me the horror story of the "big quiet bathroom that echoed badly" and how she'd had to lift her feet up so that the other women in there would not "recognize her boots" after she left the bathroom. I'm not sure now why I felt the need to include that in this blog...but whatever, there's nothing quite as comical as a good poop story. Especially one that completely embarrassed my "coarse" soul sister. 

So, whilst crazy does still always radiate toward me, I've had no big cool stories as of late. I decided a couple of days ago to Google  "creative writing ideas"...interesting to say the least. I think I had a direct reply to each idea, but not sparks of inspiration at all.

#242: Come up with 10 reasons why it would be okay to skip bathing for a week. (For real, uh...there's no reason at all? Can people really come up with 10 reasons?)

#276: Come up with a poem inspired by "Death was last seen in a auction room looking worried". (I don't even know what the hell that means, but it totally creeps me out.) 

#305: List 20 rules you've broken. (As if I'd tell on myself...insanity.)

They all kind of started to run together after a while. I swear though, one of them that I can't find now to get the number, said to write a short story form the point of view of a table corner. (which table corner, exactly? the one that nearly impaled my thigh, almost took my life, caused me to scream and jump and flail like an idiot last week? The one that caused me a big stupid gnarly ass bruise? I can think of a lot of things I'd like to do with that table corner, but write about it's POV isn't one of them!)

Anyhow, I just thought that I should stop in and let you people know that I haven't given up, I'm still trying. With any luck, something super crazy cool will happen this weekend and I'll fill you in next week. Stay tuned, people...and by all means, someone remind me of a cool story, or give me an idea of some sort? Put me out of my misery! 

But really, did I just a write a blog about writer's block? Ha, I'm an oxymoron. :)   

Watch Me Prove You Wrong Today...

If you think I won't go, watch me. Oh watch me, prove you wrong today.
- Lorrie Morgan 

Two years ago, I was right smack-dab in the middle of the biggest life changing decision that I had ever made. Scared to death, and fed up to my ears, I posted the lyrics above as my status on Facebook. I don't normally care for Lorrie Morgan, but the song fit perfect when I'd heard it that day on the radio...I took a deep breath and began typing an email to all the big wigs at work. An email that said that after 10 year long years of being their little bitch, I was done. I explained why, I didn't sugar coat anything, I didn't worry about professionalism, I couldn't have drudged up a shit to give if I had even cared to try.

Earlier that day, Thursday, I'd been offered a job in a completely different field. I accepted the offer despite a dollar pay cut, despite going from working first shift weekdays to second shift and every other weekend. I accepted despite the fact that I'd never even considered the type of job as something I'd be able to do. Even with all of this combined, I hated my current job enough to over look every bit of it. When the click of the "Send" button, I'd gone from a Graphic Designer, to a Caregiver. Just like that.

"The south moves north, the north moves south. A star is born, a star burns out. The only thing that stays the same, is everything changes...everything changes." - John Anderson

The drive into work the next morning was definitely a long strange trip. I was excited that was over. Excited that I would no longer wake up with an immediate hateful thought every single morning. Excited to start a new journey in my life. I was sad...I didn't doubt my decision, but I knew that I'd miss my girls, I'd miss the actual job itself, I would definitely not miss the endless bullshit. But mostly I was pissed off, because I knew that they'd have some kind of fucked up reaction when I walked in the door. I knew they wouldn't be fair...although I had offered to work through the next deadline and train someone to do my job so as to not leave them high and dry, they decided to keep 93 hours of the vacation time that I'd already earned, and asked me to clean out my desk instead. To make up for it, they bought me Mexican for lunch - bless their hearts.

I spent the weekend nervous about my new job, and of course on my first day I realized that was totally not prepared for what was ahead of me. I went home a cried after the first two nights, thinking that I wasn't going to be able to do the job and all it entailed...but then on the third day - I was okay. Rob Raisor had encouraged me; if i could clean up three incontinencies, do three baths, get through three dinners...I'd have it whopped. Boy, was I glad that he was right. 

I spent 14 months in the Direct Care Department, and it was honestly the most rewarding 14 months of my life. There is a certain pride that comes with that job, that can't be matched. The joy that comes along with making a difference in someone's life every single day, is indescribable. And all it required out of me was a heart and a backbone. 3 months after leaving the job I absolutely hated, I knew for a fact that I'd never ever want to leave Cedar Lake, or the people that we serve. My heart and soul would remain here. 

After 14 months I accepted a different position, as the Receptionist. It wasn't long until I was promoted to the Administrative Assistant. This put me back in my comfort zone, back to office work, back to designing and creating, but still allowed me to remain with the people I'd grown to love. I work directly under one person, I'm only responsible for pleasing one person, and he trusts my ability to make decisions and handle whatever comes across my desk. Now, two years into this decision, I've got my Mon-Fri first shift schedule back, I make more money than I did after 10 years in the last job, and I honestly have no complaints. 

I've made a lot of decisions that weren't exactly the best ones, I've stumbled and Forrest Gumped my way through a lot of my life, but one thing I did was right was tell Patrick that'd I'd be here for orientation that Monday. I feel like I am blessed to be able to say that I love my job, because there are so many people who go to jobs and have to tough it out every single day. I spent a decade of my life being treated like a replaceable dollar sign...I wouldn't wish that treatment on anyone. They never thought for a second that I'd leave, and I'm so very grateful that I had it in me to prove them wrong that day. It's amazing how a place can change a person for the better, and I'm glad my path led me here.