Totally Busted

Man, the first of the month totally blows: I just got paid and now I’m broke again.

I just keep telling myself that it’s just one more year – ONE MORE YEAR – and then I’ll free from this student loan burden that is just killing me right now—no longer paycheck to paycheck—but that’s not much conciliation right now when I’ve got $50 bucks to live off of for the next two weeks.

May should be the last month when I’m really stretching myself thin (at least for a while), but, still, I just don’t see any kind of car in my future this summer. Even a junker is going to cost me a lot of cash up front with plates, registration, insurance, and gas—and I just don’t have it. Giving all my tax money to Mel really hurt me—I don’t regret it because I promised her that I would, and at least I have a job, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t just wipe me out.

So, I emailed my landlord today, informing her that the lease will be changing back into my name July 1. Hopefully that will reduce my rent by $25. It’s not much, but I’ll take whatever I can get right now. I also asked her for a bus pass, which she has so kindly offered before, so hopefully she’ll be able to get her hands on one—that’ll make it totally free for me to ride as much as I need! *crossing fingers*

The other part is clothing. *sigh*

Three weeks ago I tried on my Capri pants that I’d bought last year. They fit really well—perfect really—but the weather was too cold to wear them. It’s still a little chilly today, but I decided to wear them anyway…

…and now they’re practically too big.

My suits and all my nice work clothes are OK for the time-being, which I’m going to need for the next several months because I’ll be training everyday, but I’m not sure I have any warm weather clothes. I’ve got some stuff in storage I’ll go through this weekend; hopefully there’s stuff in there that fits. I just don’t know, though.

*sigh* I guess I’ll be stuck in my room at home for a few more weeks…
I shouldn't complain, though: at least I have the means to pay my bills.

I Just Can’t Catch a Break

…at least not with some things.

So, Mel called me today at work to tell me she was heading out to her mother’s for the evening. I said, “Oh…well, have a happy birthday then.”

Silence ensues, and then she confesses that she was sure I’d forgotten and got weepy. I was decidedly disturbed by that, but not really terribly surprised anymore. Apparently, I’ve evolved into a cast-iron, stone-cold bitch. Fine. Whatever. I don’t really fuckin’ care what she thinks about me anymore as long as she leaves the fuck alone. Really, I’m at that point and I often suffer from Oprah’s “disease to please.”

The good news, however, was that I’d get a night to myself in the middle of the week! Everyone with an unemployed roommate out there knows my privacy pain. Anyway, the Pistons are also playing tonight, so no matter what, I was sure to get plenty of downtime after yet another busy day.

So, I left work, saw that I had less than a quarter tank of gas, and since I am extremely broke at the moment (like $7.00 in my bank account broke), I went straight home and worked out there to save on gas. Again, Mel calls me in the middle of my workout. Stupidly, I answered. She asked me if I had called—apparently my work number showed up on her phone. It wasn’t me. I then asked when she would be back. She said tomorrow, and I told her that I’d leave her card and present on the counter.

Silence ensues again. She says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

I said, “I know, but it’s your birthday…and I still don’t understand why you would think that I would forget.” She grew quiet once more, and I said, “Okay, well, you caught me in the middle of my workout, so I’m going to get back to it. Have a good time—say Hi to everyone for me, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bye…Okay, bye…we hung up.

I got back to my workout and finished around 7:00. Shortly afterward I stepped outside to smoke, bring in the garbage cans from the curb, and check the mail. As I’m finishing my cigarette, up drives Mel and her mother in her mom’s van. She comes to the door and stands in the entry way, acting odd. She apologized for “disturbing my quiet moment.”

I asked her if she’d forgotten something. Half-way down the stairs into the apartment, she stops, turns around and tells me in so many words that she’d come back to ask me if I wanted to do something tonight?

Huh?

Okay, so I’m literally standing there, holding a burning cigarette with a look somewhere between confusion and horror on my face. Finally, I just said, “No thanks.” She gets visibly offended, and proceeds to tell me then that I sounded “disturbed” on the phone when she said she was going away, so she decided to come all the way out here, without calling or asking, to ask me if I wanted to do something with her; she was “worried” (hoping) I was disturbed because I had wanted to do something.

I quickly shook my head and corrected her—“I’m only disturbed that you think I’d forget your birthday.”

She went on to say that she doesn’t have a reason to believe that I wouldn’t because, “You’re trying to forget everything else” meaning our former relationship. Gee, if that's what I was trying to do, you'd think I'd kick her ass the curb to make it that much easier, eh?

This had to be the most awkward moment of my entire adult life. I mean really: the only acceptable answer, in her eyes, would have been to say “yes.” Anything else is just more evidence as to my sudden transformation into Super Bitch. So, I pointed that out and went on to say that she should have called and asked because I happen to be looking forward to an evening alone. She went onto say some bullshit about how her thinking I wanted to do something with her on her birthday was “wishful thinking” and that it was “stupid” of her to come all the way out here.

My anger was building by this point as every one of my senses began ringing manipulation and invasion of my personal space alarm bells. I was honestly tempted to tell her that she was right: it was stupid, on severals levels, most prominently due to the fact that she *has* to go to her mother's for her birthday, but I managed to maintain my composure and she promptly left.

That was about an hour ago. I’ve had some dinner since then, and writing this out has helped squelch my ire, but I was fuming mad once she left—for the specific reason that just before then I was happy, relaxed, and at peace…and now I’ve got to work doubly hard to put this absolutely ridiculous incident out of my mind.

Sometimes It Doesn’t Pay to Get Out of Bed

Just when I thought this day couldn’t get much worse (save for an accident or major catastrophe), I came home to see that my precious cat had puked on my bed! And not just a little hairball, but a huge smear of wet green vomit. I have a periwinkle bedspread and no washing machine to just throw it in.

F.U.C.K…

God, this week has really fuckin’ sucked, frankly. This was the start of my busy season at work, and even though I’d prepared myself for it, I didn’t prepare myself for a sudden and rather drastic change in business plans. So, basically, most of the work that I’ve done with planning out the training, booking the rooms, and sending out invites has been a huge fucking waste of my fucking time. Yes, I feel like saying FUCK because I don’t have anyone to FUCK to make me feel better.

Then Mel decided to be passive-aggressive with me this morning. Considering the crappy day I’d had yesterday, she’s really lucky I didn’t rip her goddamn head off.

I’ve got a dry vodka martini calling my name…

Trace Out!

Laundry Mat Blogging

The Wi-Fi signal is working this week at the laundry mat, so I’m having an enjoyable morning. I was up, washed, and out of the house by 9:00 a.m. because I remembered that my hair appointment isn’t at 11:15, like usual, but at 12:30, and I didn’t want to brave this place in the late afternoon on a Sunday. I left without waking Mel to tell her--hopefully she won't be pissed, but I prefer to do my own laundry by myself. She got in

I wish I had a camera so y’all could see me now! Ha! I’m wearing a pair of lounging pants with pink and red hearts on them, as well as black silhouettes of naked ladies in sexy poses! You should see the looks I’m getting from people. They are cracking me up!

Not much else is going on—so I’ll keep this short and get back to my internet surfing.

See ya!

Say Cheese!

I asked my friend, Lynne, to meet me in the park today to take some pictures – I have only one of myself since I cut my hair, and that’s a New Year’s Eve Polaroid of Mel and me at Stilettos.

So, this is me in my tracksuit that I’m not going to be able to wear much longer because it’s just getting too big. All that exercise is certainly paying off. I’m down 2 dress sizes, weighing in at 189 the last time I checked a few days ago. My weekly weigh-in is tomorrow, and I expect that it’ll be less than 190 since I worked out every day this week, save today.

I like this picture: it captures my personality:

Lookin’ good, kiddo…lookin’ good. Keep it up!

Peace Takes Courage

I haven't gotten political or terribly philosophical on this blog, and I don't really plan to...

...but regardless of politics, I think the majority of the world fears war, whether or not it has ever personally touched one's life. We all know, instinctually, that the wrath of war has the capacity to destroy, ravage, and terrify all walks of life like nothing else that exists on this earth. If you don't know that, watch this short video.

We, as adults, know that--yet we continue to engage in it as if we're teenagers playing a video game...and just as damning: we just pick up People instead of Time; we changed the channel from Fox News to American Idol; we don't watch C-SPAN and PBS; we go shopping instead of vote. More people know who Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise are fucking than how many troops we've lost just this month alone--and that says nothing about the number of innocent civilians that have been kidnapped, maimed, raped, and killed as a direct result of our pre-emptive war of choice--I know no words harsh enough to speak about the suffering of the children in Iraq.

Regardless of your politics, you have to know that war is the invocation for our worst traits as human beings. Are we really so blood-thirsty and proud that we cannot admit our own mistakes? Or are we just frogs slowing boiling to death in the comfort of our own homes?

If you were the captain of a ship that was taking on water, what would you do? Would you put on your dress uniform, sit down for your last supper, and go down with her like a noble seaman of old? Would you abandon your ship and hope for rescue, or at least a swatch of land somewhere? Or would you work like hell or die trying to save her and your fellow crewmen?

I think most of us would say that we’re the heroic type that would fight to the finish. That is, after all, what we’re doing in Iraq, right? We’re fighting them over there so we don’t have to fight them here. It’s not pretty—“it’s hard work” says the President—but we are fighting the good fight with God’s blessing; we’re fighting the terrorists, who indiscriminately kill women and children and civilians like they’re military targets.

We have a term for that, too--it's called collateral damage.

The President may be the Commander and Chief, but the Constitution of this country begins with “We the People” folks…and if We the People actually took our representatives to task instead of just shook our heads and threw up our hands, or held our noses and voted out of fear of change, you would know the true power of liberty.

But you don’t, do you? You feel helpless to do anything because it won’t make a difference…and, besides, it doesn’t really affect you and there’s just not enough time in the day to write a letter to someone you don’t even know, who won’t even read it.

I hate to interrupt your reality TV and break the bad news to you, but each of us is the co-captain of the U.S.S. America…and she is taking on water in the form of national debt.

Yes, that's right: I'm not talking about morality of war; I'm talking about the financial cost of it...something even the war's proponents can wrap their minds around.

I’m not preaching that anyone ought to sacrifice their whole lives to be a hero, but maybe we should pick up a bucket and start bailing instead of just thinking and talking about it…or hoping and praying that the water is just going to magically evaporate and that it won’t ever reach your deck.

Billionaires died on the Titanic…right along side the steerage and the captain.

Your bucket is your brain on common-sense; we’re spending $10 Billion a month now in Iraq and I don’t think Bill Gates, the Chinese and the Saudi’s are feeling charitable toward the U.S. Treasury. So most of us have two choices: either shut the fuck up about the gas prices or get off our lazy fat asses and do our jobs, sailors!

Even the Titanic was doomed once the water breached five compartments; it was a mathematical certainty, remember?

The Best Birthday Present Ever

Last night I was given the best birthday present I have ever received. Ever.

So, let’s back up a little bit…shall we?

One of the reasons I’ve been so quiet blog-wise is because I’ve not only been busy with work and keeping up with my workouts, but I’ve been busy rekindling a wonderful friendship with an extraordinary woman in Chicago; extraordinary is an understatement, but she tends to blush if I say too much, so I’ll leave it at that. Anyhow, she, herself, is a busy woman—busier than me with a full-time job and two rug-rats to keep up with—so our opportunities to talk on the phone and not just via email and IM are limited, to say the least. Such is life.

Anyway, last night I was treated to a phone conversation.

As I’ve stated here, and in my communication with her, I’ve been perplexed as to what to do for my 30^th birthday. The timing of it just seems really shitty, frankly…even where she is concerned because I’m going out there toward the end of July for a weekend-visit and to catch the Melissa Etheridge concert. Basically, between that, work, break-ups and newborns, my prospects are starting to look bleak all around…especially since I’m not going to have a ton of money to just take off for some tropical island inhabited by hot and horny Amazons. (Wouldn’t that be nice, though?)

So, what in the world am I going to do to make the big 30 special…and not just another fucking holiday spent by myself? NO bloody clue—none.

Toward the end of our conversation, she asked me what I was going to do. My answer was the same: I don’t know. And then, AND THEN, it came: the best birthday present ever. It was as if the heavens opened—the swirling storm clouds parted and out of the sunlight she descended like my angel.

Can you guess? Can you guess?

ChicagoLady: “I’ve been saying I want to come out there; why don’t I come out there?”

Trace: “What? Are you serious?”

ChicagoLady: “Yea. Why not?" (said with commanding ease)

I promptly melted into a pathetic puddle of true, unadulterated amazement. It was literally difficult for me to comprehend the words coming out of her mouth because there as no way this could be happening to me. Not to me! No one comes to see *me*—I can’t even get my best-friend out here more than once a year and she lives in fuckin’ Oak Park. Sorry, babe, but it’s true.

I’m the one who has to go see people—that’s how my life works, so this couldn’t be true…could it?

ChicagoLady: “Yea. Why not?”

Yea. Why not? Hmmm….

The truth is: there is NO reason…other than I’m too used to leftovers and table scraps, so I don’t demand more and just fold into myself when I’m feeling neglected. I didn’t demand more from my family, don’t do it of my friends, and rarely have I done it with lovers…at least until I just couldn’t take getting the short end of the stick anymore, but there again, it didn’t get me anywhere for long. Old habits die hard, indeed.

But I didn’t have to demand this; I didn’t even have to ask, and it had not even crossed my mind. Going back to Chicago had crossed my mind, but never this. This was just truly stunning to me—flabbergasted hardly does my reaction justice. Afterward, I felt like I’d taken a shot of a painkiller or something; I literally could no longer feel my aching muscles or the blister on my hand from my workout—I was *that* stunned.

And I’m not the kind of person who is stunned or shocked by much; I’ve seen a lot in 30 years.

A woman at work asked me today why I was so stunned after I told her. I explained that I was pretty sure that was the single nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. She looked at me like I was insane—she didn’t believe me. She asked me why that was, and I told her the truth: “shitty life,” I said in the same way ChicagoLady said “Yea. Why not?” Commanding ease.

My work friend shook her head. “No,” she said. She still did not believe me. I just nodded, told her to trust me, and left it at that.

You see, that’s why I don’t talk about my past to most everyone: people don’t believe me; they might not say it, but I’ve seen the disbelief in people’s eyes when I say things as generic as “I don’t have a family.” People just don’t get it.

And, I get that—I do. Look at me: I’m smart; I’m kind; I’m good at what I do; I’m pretty; I’m passionate; I’m an open an unapologetic lesbian; people generally like me; I make a good wage; I’ve been to college: I am privileged.

I don’t deny that and never will—I am privileged…but everyone, in their own way, has to fight to be free. I am almost all of those things that I’ve listed above because I have had to fight to be them; I own them—they are mine…not just handed to me. And that’s where my sense of pride comes from: everything I have is mine. No one can lay claim to it but me, and that is something to be proud of, in my opinion.

But shit still happens…and sometimes it happens a lot…and usually it leaves a scar. Mine just happen to be invisible; even people who know the whole story forget and take for granted my resilience. Sure, I’m a survivor, but no one wants to be a survivor for their whole lives. It eventually gets really old.

And that’s why having a friend come all the way from Chicago to me is the best gift of my entire life: because I didn’t have to demand attention; I didn’t have to ask or fight for anything; I didn’t even have to explain all the sordid and traumatic details of my past or reveal my invisible scars, which I’d rather gouge my eye out than do any more. I didn’t have to do anything other than say, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Yea. Why not?

Exactly.

Busy Bee

Whew! What a week!

So much has happened, which has kept me occupied and without the time/concentration to blog, but I am having such a wonderful day, so I want to take a few moments to catch my breath.

Great news! Mel was accepted to culinary school. She will be leaving for North Carolina no later than July 1. My preference is for her to be out of here by June 1, as we had previously agreed, but I’ve managed to deal with my disappointment and frustration this week, and now I feel better about giving her another month so that she doesn’t have to move twice. She seems to have finally heard me, and we are in a transition phase right now…trying to be nice to each other as we move on. So long as she respects my privacy, which she has been doing without event for several weeks now, it’s not such an emotional strain having her here.

Yes, I know that there will probably be more ups and downs in the next few months, but things are definitely showing real signs of improvement. I feel more comfortable; we’ve had some serous discussions, and we’re been able to talk and laugh yesterday and today. When she asked me to stay another month, I was upset and feeling manipulated, but I took that evening to rest my weary soul. I watched some TV and did some reading. I got a full night’s rest and it helped me put everything back into perspective.

Maybe that will all change—it’s definitely possible—but I’m okay right now…and that’s all that matters to me. As long as I'm okay, I want to be able to help a friend.

Other than that, work has been really frustrating. I’m about to be as busy as a one legged man in a kicking contest…for 3 straight months! How we’re going to manage to pull all of this training off, I really have no idea at this moment, but if it fails, it won’t be for lack of our effort.

I also had my review, which was great as expected. That may sound arrogant, but I am good at what I do and I worked really hard last year. I didn’t get a bonus as I was hoping for, but I did get a nice raise…and the way I’ve always thought is that if I’m making more than my age, meaning more than 30k this year, I’m doing A-OK...and I do plenty better than that, so I can’t complain. It’s just funny to me that I received a bonus last year, but this was the year that I really pushed myself to grow as both a technical writer and a trainer. I guess that’s just life, though…life is funny like that.

Other than that, I’m very excited to say that I’ve managed to cement some plans for the summer. And, boy oh boy, is it going to be a busy summer. Other than training almost every single day during the week, I’ll be heading off to Chicago in mid-June for a quick visit. A few weeks later, my best-friend’s due to make me an aunt; just a short time after that I’ll be off to Chicago again for a Melissa Etheridge concert. The week after, I’ll be in NYC on business for a week. The weekend I get back is my 30^th birthday (still no idea what I’m going to do for that), and then sometime in August I’ve got to take a bloody vacation.

Whew! Like I said, busy bee!

Your Little Secret

Your Little Secret is probably my least favorite Melissa Etheridge album, because I could never relate to its central-theme of being infatuated with a closeted, and otherwise entangled, woman. However, I’ve been listening to it more lately as the road of my life has entered a “curves ahead” section of my own design...and because I'm going to see her in concert in July.

And lo and behold! Through my listening I found a gem that I had never paid attention to before. While many of the songs on this album still fail to really grab hold and shake me as most of her efforts do, this ballad could not describe more perfectly the essence of the first and last thought of my every day: my little secret.

All the Way to Heaven
By Melissa Etheridge

I want to find me a car
With only one headlight
A straight six Ford
On a good luck night
I want to roll down the windows
And teach you to fly
I want to give you a thrill
The kind you can't buy

I want to lose all your demons and go
I want to tear off your chains 'cause I know

All the way to heaven is heaven
Caught between the spirit and the dust
All the way to heaven is heaven
Deep inside of us

I want to find me a bar
With a blue light on Dollar shot specials
A bartender named Dawn
Painting the town
Selling the farm
You can pierce your nose
And I'll tattoo my arm

I want to lose all your demons and go
I want to tear off your chains 'cause I know

All the way to heaven is heaven
Caught between the spirit and the dust
All the way to heaven is heaven
Deep inside of us

I want to find me a carnival
Outside of town
A tilt-a-whirl set up
With a merry-go-round
Cotton candy fingers
And a snow cone mouth
I want to roll you in sawdust
Till they run us both out

All the way to heaven
All the way

Money on Maryland

The women’s NCAA basketball final is about to start. I’m pumped! *flexes my growing muscles*

I’ve done my workout; I’ve had dinner, and now I’m in my PJ’s awaiting the tip-off. I’ve got a diet root beer cracked open and a homemade brownie sitting next to me. All that’s missing is my cat, but she’s camped out in the other room with Mel.

As far as the game, I like both these teams…but I think Maryland’s youthfulness and grit will win the day. Allison Bales from Duke is definitely a force to be reckoned with, though—6’7”! Holy smokes! Talk about a smack-down…I think I’d probably run in fear of her, but, then again, I’ve never been a hoops player, just a fan.

I’m very excited about the coverage that the women are receiving this year. Personally, I’ve enjoyed watching the ladies play 10 times more than the guys…but, I’m sure I’m biased. Still, it’s nice to see and I hope it continues. The Detroit Shock won the championship about 3 years ago and it was hardly noticed.

Okay, game’s starting…gotta go!

UPDATE: Final Maryland 78/Duke 75

OMG! What a game! Best basketball game I have ever seen. Period.

I was literally standing on my bed, in tears, cheering Maryland when Christy Toliver hit that clutch 3 pointer to send the game into overtime. She and Coleman...I can't believe they're freshman. And I can't believe they came back from 13 down just after the half!

For the 5 minutes of OT I was shifting from foot to foot, a foot from the TV, saying, "Come on, baby...come on, girls..."Violet was officially freaked out by my actions; it was a beautiful night of women's sports.

WOW. Just WOW. Both teams should be proud; that was simply amazing.

Congrats Maryland Terrapins; you ladies are my heroes...and Christy Toliver is da bomb, baby...nothin' but net over a 6'7" reach with 5 seconds left. Brought me to tears it was so perfect.

Damn. What a game...

April Showers Bring May Flowers

It’s raining today; big surprise…but can we PLEASE have some sunshine on a weekend soon? Pretty please?

Thanks!

32 Flavors
By Ani Defranco
Performed by Alana Davis

squint your eyes and look closer
I'm not between you and your ambition
I am a poster girl with no poster
I am thirty-two flavors and then some
and I'm beyond your peripheral vision
so you might want to turn your head
cause someday you're going to get hungry
and eat most of the words you just said
both my parents taught me about good will
and I have done well by their names
just the kindness I've lavished on strangers
is more than I can explain
still there's many who've turned out their porch lights
just so I would think they were not home
and hid in the dark of their windows
til I'd passed and left them alone
and god help you if you are an ugly girl
course too pretty is also your doom
cause everyone harbors a secret hatred
for the prettiest girl in the room
and god help you if you are a pheonix
and you dare to rise up from the ash
a thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy
while you are just flying back
I'm not trying to give my life meaning
by demeaning you
and I would like to state for the record
I did everything that I could do
I'm not saying that I'm a saint
I just don't want to live that way
no, I will never be a saint
but I will always say
squint your eyes and look closer
I'm not between you and your ambition
I am a poster girl with no poster
I am thirty-two flavors and then some
And I'm beyond your peripheral vision
So you might want to turn your head
Cause someday you might find you're starving
and eating all of the words you said

Fitness Ball

This will be a short post because 1. My arms are very tired from my strength-training workout that I just finished and 2. I’m watching the Duke v. LSU Woman’s Final Four game…and, in this case, I want to pay attention.

I was out of town this weekend visiting my best-friend. Yesterday, while she was taking a nap, I put in one of her Denise Austin videos. It’s broken up into two 20 minute sessions, the second utilizing a fitness ball. I know you’ve probably seen them and have been wondering about them—I have, too. This was the first time I’ve used one, and I am sold! WOW…not only did I have a tougher workout, but I had a better workout…especially in the abdominal department.

I often conveniently forget to do my abdominal workout because I really hate lying and the floor and doing crunches. I mean, I just hate it and there is little about working out that I feel the need to complain about. But crunches suck. It’s uncomfortable; sometimes my back fells like I’m straining it…sometimes it’s my neck....it just all around sucks for me. But, that’s my biggest problem area, so ignoring it does me no good, whatsoever. And, I know that so much of your physical strength comes from your core. I want to be stronger, not just thinner, so ignoring that area is like self-sabotage…and I hate that more.

Using the ball to do crunches (among other things) was awesome. Not only do you get the relief from the back strain, but you get fuller extension and you also get a bit of a leg workout, too! Two for one is always a good deal, so tomorrow after I see Mary and hit the rec. center, while I’m getting my stomach medication refilled, I’m going to buy myself a fitness ball. No, I don’t really have a convenient place to store it out of view, but I’ll gladly maneuver around it (while Mel’s occupying my future rec. room) if it’ll help my waistline.

Just thought I’d share in case anyone out there had been thinking about getting one; take it from me, you’ll be glad you did and so will your body.