32B's Blog

…where I write my words

One Sentence

My phone rings less often now and I make fewer personal calls.  This month I have gone over my 450 anytime minutes due to work calls lasting at least 30 minutes when I work from home.  I have the word “Specialist” in my unofficial job title but I go to work feeling pretty freaking stupid sometimes.  I have Live Meetings almost every week now and my supervisor leaves me to solve my own complicated problems like I am really a freaking Specialist!  I am anal, a perfectionist in certain areas, and rarely like to wing it which is why I do not understand how a company can release a new version of a software without running adequate QA on it first.  Sometimes, in my job at least, I think women would be better at this than men because we tend to make sure everything is “pretty” before sending it out instead of trying to meet a self-imposed deadline to say you got it in ahead of time.  My son went away to his first camp and loved it so much I think he came back slightly depressed.  I smiled that my son came back depressed because it reminds me of how I was when I was his age and got the first taste of adventure, the outdoors, and getting from under my parent’s wings.  I think my son will be totally awesome because he is me – but with a penis (I don’t know why I say stupid stuff).  I think I write about Mr. D too much.  I think I do not highlight his good points nearly enough.  When I did highlight his good points some guy told me I had low standards as if that shouldn’t be enough to make me happy.  Why does happiness require a laundry list of unreachable bullet points but, when my list is simple and within relative reach (which is still a lot for the avg guy) another guy complains?  I swear some men will complain women want too much and then complain we do not want enough just to hear themselves bitch.  I have 2 major issues to resolve at work tomorrow and I have no idea how I am going to accomplish that.  I have to do my long run of 9.5 miles Tuesday because my youngest’s last day of school is that day so that is the end of my running while with child(ren).  I have 1 female friend I talk to almost everyday and 1 male friend I talk to almost every other hour of the day.  People assume since I’ve been married, I know what to look for the 2nd time around but I got it wrong just like everyone else so your guess is as good as mine.  Why are we allowed and often encouraged to make mistakes but as long as it does not involve marriage?  Some people say God sent them this or that person but, if most of us do not pray, how the heck do you know or can hear when it is God?  God did not send me my ex – I know I selected him on my own.  How are we supposed to get marriage right the first time without practice, classes, test environments, warm-ups, stretches, drills, etc?  I didn’t get parenting right until the 2nd time around – my first was a trial and error so thank God he survived me! 

I think I am too liberal or open-minded to be a typical Christian (whatever that means).  I do not think gays, lesbians, bisexual, or transgendered folks are wrong.  I do not tolerate them only because “God loves everyone”.  I do not feel the urge to lay hands on, anoint foreheads, and recite a scared prayer from the book of who-knows-what to cure them of anything.  I do not accept but rebuke them in the same breath or depending on who I am talking to at the moment.  We judge more than we realize.  We judge even when we say we are not judging.  I have to catch myself when I judge and have often judged and had to apologize later.  I’m not even sure I am “right” so how can I say someone else is “wrong”?  What really is “wrong”?  What really is “right”?  I think non-straight people are the most accommodating, friendly, and understanding of diversity and what makes us all different.  I hate rules.  I hate restrictions.  I hate that someone told us what constitutes A, B, and C and we do not have enough people with the balls to say “that works for you but not for me”.  Why does religion change everything?  Why does religion define everything?  I live a more public life than most people would prefer.  I like to think someone can learn something from my experience and I can learn from theirs.  I have a private journal that I write in from time to time but it’s not nearly as freeing as this online blog.  It’s like Confessional 101 because I do not have shame for what I did although I have regret.  Does that make sense?  I think the most important thing in life is your salvation followed by the demand to enjoy & make the most out of life….everything else falls into place at its appointed time.  I really miss Mr. D right now.  He pissed me off so I hung up on him but I told him I was hanging up so is not that as rude?  Sometimes I wonder how or why Mr. D deals with me but then I answer that with a “because you’re freakin awesome” and that thought is over.  My brother gets his alloted money from our family lawsuit this year if he chooses or he can wait until he’s 21 yrs old.  I kinda think he is smart enough to not blow it but I know he’s young and all he sees is Jordans and game systems.  My son can add, subtract, multiply, and divide some numbers but place a dollar or cent sign anywhere and he does dumb instantly.  I would love to be super duper rich one day (or almost there) and leave my boys a bankroll (ghetto term) but only if they are money-savvy.  I almost thought to write in my Trust or Will that my kids cannot have access to any life insurance money (or my estate) unless they read certain finance books, pass certain finance courses, and then exhibit wise decision-making when it comes to their own personal finances. 

Men keep telling me how good I look since I put on weight as if I was ugly while skinny.  My bangs are still too short to wear down so I promised my beautician I’d stop wearing anything around my head for the next 6 weeks so the blood can circulate (I think they learn these myths in beauty school).  I am half-way through the Warren Buffet biography which is about 400 pages long and a really good book imo.  Next, I plan to read The Value Investor by Ben Graham (Buffett’s mentor) which outlines how to calculate and understand the intrinsic value of stocks.  Third book is the Lies, Myths, and something else of Economics which talks about things your Econ professor does not teach as far as understanding the big picture of Economics and how the world reacts to recessions, depressions, high tax, tax cuts, unemployment, and the GDP amongst other things.  Other than The Case for Christ, these are the only books I have gotten excited about reading in a long time.  I will go through a week of withdrawal when I drop my kids off for the summer but it will quickly leave after that.  Mr. D was/is having a hard week – he lost his job, his apartment, and me (so he says) all in a matter of days.  I gave him a Get Out of Denisha’s Jail Free card this week but I don’t plan on extending it unless absolutely necessary.  He needed a couple of days to get his life back on track, run around, and tie up some loose strings….so I assume.  I think he needed some time to tell me an optimistic story about how he has everything under control, planned out, and how he’d be able to financially support his self.  Guys have a totally different way of dealing with major life upsets/changes than women do.  I will tell my sad story complete with my thoughts, fears, and expectations but he will tell his story minus his fears or thoughts…..just his expectations. 

That’s it.  My one sentence way of expression (kinda sorta).  If you had to sum up any one thought with one sentence what would it be?  I think some people talk too much about nothing and the ones who choose their words carefully rarely talk at all.

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June 14, 2010 Posted by | Life | , , , | Leave a comment

Charades

No words
Just gestures
He giggles
I chuckle
He writes letters in the air
I see nothing but his finger moving
He sighs
I shrug
He makes a heart with both hands
I nod slowly
He points to the clock on the wall
I glance at the clock on the wall
He points again at clock
I hold up 4 fingers for 4 o’clock
He shakes his head “no”
I throw up my hands and frown
He walks over to the clock
I wonder if this is in the rules
He makes a counterclockwise motion with his finger
I hold up 3 fingers, then 2, and then 1
He smiles and nods
I pat myself on my own back
He giggles
I chuckle
He rewinds time on the clock
He makes a heart with both hands
I watch him carefully
I nod understanding each gesture
He points to me
He makes a heart again
I frown confused
I point to me too
He nods his head “yes”
He walks over and pats me down
I giggle
He chuckles
“What are you doing?” I say
“Hey, you aren’t supposed to talk!” he says
“And you aren’t supposed to touch!” I say
“And you weren’t supposed to make me love you” he says
“You stole my heart some time ago”
I poke out my bottom lip
He kisses my bottom lip
I point to him
I make a heart with both hands
I point to myself
He points to his self
He makes a heart with both hands
He points to me
I melt
He smiles
No words
Just gestures

May 20, 2010 Posted by | My Writings | , , , , , | Leave a comment

Lovely Curse

It’s not a good day for me and it’s only the wee hours of the morning.  When I can’t sleep I try to write which eventually tires me out so I find sleep easily but that doesn’t seem to be working.  All that I have written sounds like gibberish and what I feel I can’t seem to find the right words to translate so I went back through my writings and found this piece I wrote called Visitor which seems to touch a part of what I am feeling.  Until I can capture the other part then I guess I’ll have to postpone sleep and dreaming. Sometimes I hate how emotional I am because I will cry at the drop of a dime…literally, I just might.  But, then again, when I read things I write during those times I wonder if it truly was I who penned those words. I’m no Maya Angelou but I love the emotion behind every line although my friends say I write too much in one piece. I told a friend of mine that the irony of it all is that I only reach a level of brilliance when my hearts suffers an equal degree of pain.  A lovely curse.

November 28, 2009 Posted by | Life | , , | Leave a comment

I the Anomaly

split-personality1Since I was a little girl I have always written whether it was poems, short stories, or just assignments for class.  I would enter writing contests at school and I loved when we had a writing assignment to complete for class.  Writing gave me expression which is something I didn’t have or didn’t desire growing up in a rather large family where everyone was outspoken and I was reserved.  Reserved.  I was never shy but rather observant.  Not timid but watchful of those around me not knowing if I should show them me or not.  I was quiet if anything but never shy.  On a daily basis I saw hurt inflicted by words.  On a daily basis I saw bonds broken by words.  On a daily basis I saw battles won by words.  Truth be told, people talk in a disproportionate rate to how they listen. 

Growing up, I never saw a need to talk a lot.  There were always arguments, fights, and mis-communication because people don’t know how to communicate but they can talk their azz off!  How can you talk and not communicate?  Pretty simple but complicated for others to understand.  I observed that talking did not get anyone’s attention in my house so I kept to myself and wrote.  To this day, my family has no idea who I am or what I am because they don’t know how to listen to me and hear me.  They want to listen and hear in their own way and not in a way that is conducive to me and the way I speak.  So, I don’t let them in.  I don’t let others in.  I don’t meet people.  I don’t socialize.  Most think I am stuck up, conceited, arrogant because I choose to keep to myself as a learned behavior after all these years.  I guess I should make it known that it is not them personally but, in a way, it is.  All you want to do is figure me out just so you can misread me and begin to judge and categorize me.  Then, when you come across something I have written you say, “I didn’t know you had it in you!” 

One thing I will admit is that, as much as I talk nowadays, I never talk about my writing.  It is as if the two exist independently of each other.  Someone told me that, from reading my blogs, they have learned so much about me and that I am an anomaly.  Before I spoke I had to be sure this was a compliment rather than an insult.  If not an insult, then which commonality am I being compared to that I am an anomaly and the others are not?  Often times people will say, “I know this and that about you”….so you know me now?  The same information you have is the same information the next person reading my blog has…..congratulations!  Have you met this me or that me?  Which me do you think I have shown to you?  Seldom do I talk about my blogs to the people face-to-face because, frankly, as public as this is I find it personal to approach face-to-face because I lose my sense of anonymity.  I know….I actually know some of these people personally so how can that possibly make sense?!  Do I expect them to not mention it?  Act as if they don’t read them at all?  No…..I don’t know what I am trying to say but I know what I am thinking….just can’t formulate it into words right now.   If you ask or want to discuss with me my writing/blogs then you show me you want to meet the other me at which point I get nervous because she does not like to meet people because that would mean opening myself up completely to you which is too much.  To whom have I opened myself up to in such a way?  Hmmm….

Why do I write?  Why do I blog?  Why do I take the time to write these things everyday for the purpose of nothing more than to get things off my bird chest knowing not that many people read it?  I write for me.  When I die, no one will frame a painting of mine or a quote I said…likely, they will archive one of my writings, my stories, or my weird random off the wall blog postings.  I speak but more so I speak through my words.  If I speak and open up to someone in particular then that is a rare occasion so I build a bond that, even now, I find hard to break.  My topics aren’t from the same vein.  My ideas aren’t predictable.  My moods are scattered.  My writings are just normal everyday stuff that makes up me.  I find it fascinating that people have grown closer to me through blogs.  Sometimes, when I step from the computer, I feel like a different person when I am writing and when I am in the every day world interacting with people.  Sometimes.  I just know that the person writing is still inside and only feels comfortable with certain people whom she trusts.  Who do I trust?  No one anymore.  I used to trust but now it seems easier not to trust at all.  The fear in typing these words?  I sound like someone I know all too well. 

I am an anomaly.  I express myself better through words than speech.  I am an anomaly and I like it.

February 9, 2009 Posted by | Me | , , , , , | Leave a comment