I guess life being so busy is a blessing, as this is an emotional time.  Wednesday is the 1yr anniversary of Mom's death.  God, it's even painful just to write that.  I sure miss her alot.  I can't believe the fucked up year that we had.  Losing Eddie's dad, then Mom and Grandpa on the SAME day, then Eddie's uncle about 2 months later.  I've learned that I am definately stronger than I ever thought I was.   Although I told myself that I will never have regrets because it just eats you up inside, I can't help but feel some frustration for not calling and visiting more.  I guess, since I was so far away, I didn't really ever know how bad things really were.  I wonder, if she knew, and just didn't tell me because she didn't want me to worry.  She was like that....always thinking of everyone else.  When I look at pictures of her in her 20's and 30's, I realize how much I look like her, and how my hands are just like hers.  I remember that, even when she got really sick, she still maintained her sense of humor, and to me, that is what is real strength is.  To accept what God has given you, and try to understand it, but never stop living.  I hate that she's not around to watch Zach grow up, and that Livia will never know her, but I know that she is looking down on all of us, and I do find some solace in that.  How crazy that I was Eddie's rock as we sat on the pews at his father's funeral, only for him to be that strength for me 2 months later. I don't know what I would have done without him.  People ask us how we kept going, and appeared so strong, even in the face of such tragedies, but it's unexplainable.  You just have to.  As much as it hurts, you have to be strong and keep going for the rest of the people in your life that need you.  And even though the pain does lessen with time, and you can find joy and laughter in memories, it is still a wound that can never truly be healed. 

To my girl: We had been friends from elementary school, and I still have some of the goofy cards and pictures that we made.  You was such a beautiful person, inside and out.  There isn't a day go by that you don't cross my mind........Le amare por siempre.

 Unfortunately, she passed away July 4, 1994, right after our high school graduation. She was living in an apartment on the south side of Richmond, and had this neighbor who was creepy as hell, and her and her roommate had a pact never to let him in the house if one of them was alone.  She came home drunk from a 4th of July party, and he broke into the house, raped her, and stabbed her to death.  What an absolutely horrifying way to lose somebody.  And the worst part was the way he did it......he was so  sick that he tied her to the radiator, and stabbed her in the neck repeatedly with a pair of scissors.  I remember, after it happened, just living in a state of shock.....seeing the headlines of the newspaper splattered with details of her murder...driving past the apartment and seeing the crime scene tape everywhere....it was all very surreal, especially at the age of 18.  I remember trying my best just to keep it together, but finally losing it one day when Mom brought the newspaper into my bedroom and asked me if I wanted to see it.  It had been the cover story for a week, and as much as I hated reading it, I couldn't stop myself.  I completely lost it, throwing the newspaper against the wall, screaming that no, I didn't want to see it, hear about it, or think about it, because it just hurt too f**king much.........My dad is such a manly man--never really shows any emotion, and that is the only time I remember seeing him actually cry...was when Mindy died.  She was like family...everyone loved her, and Dad even had a nickname for her.  I dedicate this blog to her memory, and I know she is looking down on us all. Even though it has been 13 years since her death, I think about her often, and realize just how much of an impact she had on my life, as well as everyone else's.   A beautiful rose, cut short, way before her time.  I love and miss you Mudstain, and I can't wait to hear you sing "Mercedes Benz" one more time..........

Why do I hate her so much?...... Why do I feel this way, and why can't I make it stop?  I try not to, I really do....I try to get along with everyone, and understand people's differences, but for some reason, she just eats away at me......I look at her and I just want to slug her in the face.......Am I jealous of her?  If so, why?  Is she prettier than me?  I'm sure some people think so......does she remind me of someone or possess the traits of one I despise?......who the hell knows?..... Does it even f**king matter?...It's so ignorant that I let her bother me........and she doesn't even know......or maybe she does.....maybe she senses that my niceties are all an act, one I'm required to put on every time I'm around her..... I hate the way I'm forced to deal with her immaturity and stupidity, I hate the feeling that I get when I look at her, I hate the way she's coddled and treated; as if her flirtatious, nonchalant way of interacting makes up for her ignorance and untrustworthiness...but most of all, I hate myself for feeling this way....for letting my own ridiculous emotions bring anger and pain into my soul.......and maybe..... deep down.....it doesn't even really have anything to do with her.....maybe I am unhappy with myself and I project my disappointment and anger onto her because she's an easy target....

I feel defeated....and there hasn't even been a battle...

Ok, so I read this article about meditation, and one of the basic principles was that "if you can name your emotions, you can tame them"........sounded kinda corny to me at first, but I thought what the hell? I can spill my guts onto paper in a poetic rage, but have never really given proper thought to exactly what was underlying those emotions.  The "whys", so to speak.  So...I spent some quiet time reading over some of my blogs and poetry, and realize that I really don't hate her, I hate the fact that she's comfortable with who she is...that she doesn't look into the mirror every day and feel discomfited with what she sees.......I want that feeling.....I want to know that people don't think "She's pretty, BUT....." 
 

I want to slay this demon that has consumed me throughout my life...the only thing I have never been able to defeat.....the only thing that makes me feel less worthy than those who may be lacking in substance, but have the figure so desired by the masses......society stigmatizes even the beautiful, and I don't wish for the appeal of litheness alone, but rather simply the ability to be myself.....100%.........to feel comfortable in my own clothes, for I will no longer be burned by the glare of society's expectations........

One would think that beauty known would be a tough enough opponent to fight this demon, but the self continues to destruct for reasons unknown......When I understand that, so too shall the pain subside.....

Stumble into beauty:  I notice that there is a new blog posting from my best friend from high school. I open it, and am surprised to find a poem she has written. It’s amazing how we can know someone for so long, yet, so much can still remain a mystery. I never knew she wrote poetry, and as I’m reading it, I find myself intrigued by the passion and eloquence of her work. The poem details a struggle; a “loss” of her true self, and a contemplation of how it all came to be. I find myself compelled to respond, not only to offer the commonplace reassurance that “people love her for who she is” but also to reach a little deeper into my own psyche. I tell her that sometimes we get so caught up in trying to please everyone and living up to others’ expectations that we can lose ourselves in the process. I remind her that she is one of the most sincere, thoughtful, and interesting people I know and a breath of fresh air in this society of pretentious illusions.

As I go back and re-read the poem once again, it brings frustration. So many people in society today could have written this poem through their own life experiences. Individuals often will succumb to the status quo for fear of alienation, and when that happens, as the poem describes, the “self” is lost.

I could never put on a facade, and try to be something I'm not, because repression is the most painful thing our soul can endure. I am many things, to many people, but to myself, I am a writer……and this is my release. One read-through of my blogs, to me, is like looking in a mirror.....sometimes it beautiful, sometimes not, but it's always me............and I couldn’t imagine it any other way……..

I was sitting here thinking tonight about the different jobs I've held, as well as the bosses that came along with the territory. I've had bosses who have inspired me, made me laugh, challenged me, and even some who made me absolutely cringe. I can honestly say, though, that each one was a learning experience and I wouldn't change any of it..........

I distinctly remember the first boss I ever had. I was 14 years old and working as a waitress in a small restaurant in Centerville called "The Courtyard". It seemed like a nice enough place, and I made it through the first couple of days without any major incidents. Then Sunday rolls around......Oh lord, I had never seen so many old, churchgoing people crowded into one place at one time. As I dashed from table to table simply trying to keep up, nearly in tears, the evil Marianne pounded my ears with tunes of "Order Up" and "Make sure you're asking if they want dessert!" Needless to say, at the mere age of 14, I thought this was the greatest embarrassment I would ever face. I counted the hours until the end of my shift and never set foot in the place again........

Next, I decided to give old Jody's Restaurant a try. The man who graced me with employment there was a big bellowing fellow, who sang Elvis all the time, and yelled at us if we turned the jukebox up too loud. He lived in an apartment above the restaurant, and I remember him stomping on the floor every time Sara and I had an empty house, and the urge to karaoke. If only he knew we were down there singing Neil Young into our brooms, rather than actually cleaning with them.......

Next on the job journey was one I often don't talk about.....yes, I worked fast food. I was 16 and had grown tired of waitressing in rinky dink restaurants, so I decided to give fast food a try. Enter KFC. They hired me, and my official title was "Buffet person". Wow.....thanks. I was in charge of keeping the buffet stocked, and occasionally had the distinct pleasure of taking a customer's order on the fancy cash register..lol. Although I can't remember my boss's name, she was a cool chick that I swear was sleeping with at least two of the dudes who worked there. This job definately sucked, and I never went the fast food route again, but I made some of the most amazing friends in the short time I worked there.....

After that, I jumped around for a couple of years, finally landing at the Iron Skillet restaurant, with the only boss I can honestly say I hated. His name was Ken, and he was truly “Urkel” reincarnated. He was about 6'2, short dark hair, and glasses, and he seemed to thrive on making people's lives miserable. From the time he started working there, I could feel him glaring at me with his beady little eyes, watching my every move, as if looking for something to complain about. Even though I was one of the best waitresses there, he would still try to make me feel less than worthy, and I could never understand why. He seemed to be a very weak man, who shied away from a challenge, and figuring me out was certainly that for him. I remember hanging out with co-workers and prank calling him at all hours of the night, trying my best not to laugh in his face the next day when I saw him at work. A few fleeting moments of satisfaction in reciprocation of the living hell he tried to make my life........

Skip along past a few other insignificances, and I found myself at the B&D Grocery Outlet in Richmond, IN. This was definately one of the most interesting jobs that I ever had, and my boss was amazing. His name was Doug, and he was more like a friend than a supervisor. I remember sitting back there, going through boxes of salvage goods, whilst having conversations that you would never believe. He was so understanding, and really let me have free rein on how I wanted to work. With me having the type of personality that I do, I feel suffocated if I am micromanaged, and have to feel that I have some sort of freedom and respect. The funniest incident that I remember with Doug was when he bailed me out of jail...Ok, now hear me out……. I was 8 months pregnant, just dropped Eddie off at work in New Paris, and totally did a California Roll at the stop light. Well, I got caught...by the Ohio Highway Patrol. Turns out that there was a mistake with my driver's license, and I was driving on a suspended! I explained to him what happened, hoping he would have some sympathy with me being 8 months pregnant, but no such luck. They booked me in, and I used to my one phone call to ask Doug for bail money. He came up there, laughing the whole time and all he said was "Ya hungry? Want me to take you to McDonalds?' How cool was that? ......

We ended up moving to KY in 2001, and I was desperate for a job, so I took one at the Hampton Inn. Yes, I was a housekeeper. This job royally sucked, and I couldn't believe that with the skills and intelligence that I had, I succumbed to this ridiculous punishment. However, I needed a job, ASAP. I spent each day cleaning up spilled ashtrays and nasty toilets. Nothing like your boss (wow...you're the head housekeeper…..Let me bow before you) coming in to inspect your room, finding a pubic hair in the shower, and making you reclean it while she watched. Needless to say, I didn't stay there very long......

Fast forward to my current job, which I've been at for over 4 years now...gosh, it sure doesn't seem that long. I have never stayed at a job for more than 2 1/2 years. Eddie was actually working there first, and Dwight was looking for someone just to come in and help out with bookkeeping/office duties, and he thought I might be interested. I remember going in that first time to talk to Dwight...I was so nervous......he had this reputation that preceded him, and was a former commander in the military, so I certainly did not know how to act when I walked into that office. I ended up starting that Monday, and was almost fearful for the longest time, as he was such an intimidating man. Yet, he was intriguing at the same time, and I had such a deep-rooted respect for him, and I just knew that underneath that tough facade was something more. I can honestly say that throughout this time, I have learned so much from him, not just in business, but in life. He has been an inspiration, and he is one of the few bosses that truly understands what it is like to manage a career, and a family; or in my case, a career, a family, and SCHOOL! I know that I have worked hard enough and earned enough respect around there, that he never questions if I have to take time off or make room for all the other obligations in my life. He has been a great boss, a role model, but most of all, a friend........and in this chaos we call life, I thank God each day for that small bit of stability.........