It’s been a crazy year since last Thanksgiving.  Certainly, an abnormal and unusual amount of “bad stuff” far beyond my control has transpired, as well as a ridiculous amount from my own poor choices.  If I were to sit and reflect on it all, I’d probably end up depressed.

     But…

     Defeats made me savor victories.  Losses made me appreciate what I gained.  Every tear made me laugh even harder.
     For that, I’m thankful.

     Nearly every time I was in need, someone else had it worse.  I did what I could when I could, and the favors were returned in kind.
     For those, I’m thankful.

     The short list of people I consider “family” has grown tremendously longer.  For every loss, three were gained.  Those who were there already have gotten a whole lot closer.  
     For them, I’m thankful.

     As I sit here this morning, anticipating a huge dinner with my Wildcat and her family, I can’t help but reflect that if even one thing had happened differently, I wouldn’t have ended up here.
     For us, I’m thankful.

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTvDDEB5aQQ)

     Sometimes, things happen for a reason.  That’s why it’s important to count your blessings and be thankful for silver linings.

     To all my friends, to all my family, and all of my friends who are family, I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

I’m working on finding my sarcasm again after losing it somewhere between the altar and Germany.  In hindsight, I don’t actually think I ever lost it.  I think somehow it got kicked in the corner, or under my dresser with the dust-bunnies when I started having girl problems.  Nothing like some girl issues to jack one’s system completely up.  None-the-less, I started to feel my sassy self coming back to life.

I think, where I have managed for the past six months to stay so preoccupied with all the events going on in my life, I have no idea what to do now.

Just down in the dumps. Don’t feel good. Blah. Miserable and on a self serving pity party.

I can’t even muster up anything to be sarcastic about.   Sorry kid, don’t mean to be a downer.

So, I’m still extremely new to this living in the same house and sharing the same bedroom full time thing. Not that it’s bad.  Actually, it’s quite nice being able to reach over in the night and play with his hair or crawl across the bed and give him a light little kiss while he’s sleeping. 

What is taking some definite time to get used to is the fact that his alarm clock is a screamer!  When I say screamer, I don’t mean one of those annoying buzzer sounding things.  I mean it’s an indescribable sound that has rattled my ass awake a 4:45 in the morning.  Not only does it rattle my ass awake, the clock actually grows legs, walks around the bed to my side, shakes the piss out of me, picks me up and drops me right in the middle of the bedroom.

Now, I’m not a morning person by any means.  It really doesn’t matter if I get 4 or 8 hours of sleep.  But when that damn thing goes off before the chickens are even awake, that’s a problem for me.  Especially since his ass doesn’t get up when it goes off the first time.  No.  He slaps the snooooze button like 6 times.  So, six times I get picked up and dropped on my ass in the middle of the floor before daylight.  What the hell?  We are gonna have to find an empass.  A new alarm clock, maybe?  Setting the bitch a little later instead of hitting snooooooze so many times, maybe?

Anyway, so he finally wakes up after the 7th roar of the alarm.  I’m wide awake already.  Sitting up in bed, smoking a ciggie, waiting for coffee to get done. Me and the cat staring at him, daring him to hit snooooze again. Thank Jesus, no more snooooze button. 

He rolls over, smiles all sweet and says, “Honey, I know I complain alot.”

“What’s the matter?”  I ask in the sweetest 5am voice I can muster.

“Well, I woke up and had to pull this out of my ass.”  He says as he hands the DVD player remote to me laughing his ass off.

God bless his little heart. I love him so much.  Maybe this is the answer to my being late to work every day.  If I’m dropped in the floor and wide awake by 5am, surely I can make it work work on time by 8:30?
 

     My tires were less than a month old.

     The problem was covered under warranty, despite being maliciously vandalized.  ;-)  So basically, the only thing that I lost was a little sweat in putting the spare on.

     Busy day, too… I’ve done three quick-and-dirty onsites (and had the tire fixed between the last two — took them all of ten minutes), and I’m actually managing to fix these bloody notebooks faster than they’re coming in the door for a change.  Apparently, I’m one of the few people in town who can actually repair notebooks — which is ironic, since I hate them as much as I do.
     But, it gives me a sense of accomplishment to complete things, and properly… and I admit, even a bit of smug sense of satisfaction to have fixed whatever hardware or software problem there was after it’s been sent back to the manufacturer for warranty repair over and over and over and…

     And… Nah, nevermind.  More good stuff I won’t talk about… Maybe later.  *grin*

     Life kicks ass! 

     Apparently, someone decided to slash my tire today, sometime after 10AM today, at my home… Zacque, being the photographer that he is (and having superior equipment), got a nice picture of it… In the rain, even, with crappy lighting…

     I have to consider four things about this:  A) Mine was the only tire slashed; B) there’s never any traffic when I come home; C) Exactly two people know where I live (outside of a very close-knit circle of friends who are considered family, and they value my privacy as much as their own); D) I know exactly where Person #2 was between 10AM & 4:30PM when the problem was discovered.

     If I had actually done anything to anyone to deserve the kind of crap that’s been going on lately, I’d take my lumps.

     But since I haven’t …

     Circumstantial proof is difficult without a preponderance of it…  So, I say, “Hey!  Bring it on!” 

     Besides, maybe now I’ll save some money on gas… *grin*

     By 12:30AM Sunday morning, all the de-stressing I’d done since Friday came unraveled due to another round of idiotic things beyond my control.  I was livid, and finally said, “Hey, screw this.  I’m getting the Hell outta here for a while.”

     I drove northeast for several hours until I couldn’t find a cellphone signal.  Then I drove into the mountains in the middle of nowhere … someplace with absolutely no chance of hitting either a Digital or Analog cell signal.
     As angry as I was at certain things that were going on, I figured it would take longer than it did to mellow out.

     I sat.
     I thought.
     I relaxed.
     I communed.
     I slept.

     Eventually, after spending twenty-four hours away from everything — work, people, computers, cellphones, cats, asshats — I woke feeling refreshed and optimistic.
     It was time to depart.

     It was rainy and foggy most of the weekend.  Coming back over a huge mountain in the car, I was having a little trouble not skidding down the hill at times thanks to the deluges of water over the road at intervals.
     About halfway down, I began to pick up speed quickly, hydroplaning downhill at a breakneck pace — no brakes, no steering, no control whatsoever.  The car turned better than a one-eighty, and, terrified, I stared to back to my left only to see a fast-approaching wall of limestone at the bottom of the hard-left switchback.
     Shocked, and unable to do anything to avoid impending doom, I braced myself for what would well have been a massive impact.

     In that instance, every hope of peace & quiet, and the objectivity I’d gained by getting away, was dashed.  Every scintilla of serenity I’d earned myself the previous day was shattered in an instant by yet another unavoidable event that was completely beyond my control.

     In bracing myself, I must have inadvertently turned my wheels back to the right a bit more than I expected.  Suddenly, a wheel stuck, the car one-eightied again, and I found myself going down the hill in the narrow, oncoming lane.  A few flicks left and right, and I had control again!
     I managed to slow my descent, veer left, then right, and narrowly avoid a second problem — going through the guardrail and plummeting hundreds of feet into the valley below.

     It lasted but a few seconds, but seemed like forever.  My heart was racing.  At the bottom of the mountain, I pulled to the side of the road and thanked my Maker for getting me through.
     Yet again, I’d come out unscathed.

     The last couple of months have dashed my persective a bit.

     Sometimes I forget how lucky I really am.

     I’m lucky not only for getting away unscathed, but also for the fact that every time something happens, I come back stronger than before.

     Some people aren’t so fortunate.  But knowing that I’m a lot more than just the sum of my experiences helps tremendously.

     Let’s get one presumptuous idea outta your head right now.

     Trust me?

     My resume looks less like a resume, and more like the Fortune 500.  I’ve been running a company, in whatever capacity, for 22 years.  I can do your job.  His job.  Her job.  And if I don’t have the capacity for certain knowledge, I can learn it fast.
     I can walk into any company, tell them anything, and I can keep that job until I decide to move on.  Haphazard?  No … Hardcore.  That’s just the way it goes.

     The reason?

     Attention to detail, instead of saying, “Good enough.”  Asking questions, instead of seeing problems as weaknesses.  Re-writing business policies, because they’re not performing a required function.  Tactfully kicking a customer in the ass when they’re not delivering on “their” promises.  Figuring out problems, and fixing them, instead of regurgitating answers.
     I can hire … I can fire … and I always manage to keep things in line.

     I can do that with any work I’m not emotionally invested in.  Ownership, Relationships, just screw things up for me.
     Emotionally invested = My Own Company, My Own Money, My Business.
     But being that way also keeps me from banging every hot Admin Assistant (Secretary, right?  WTF?) that comes along.  Especially that hot, tiny Latina over at … Nevermind.

     But damn well, I can do your job.  And in a couple of months, I can do it better than you’re doing already.

     Know why?

     I work.  I learn.  I look beyond my own expectations.  I build processes, and accomplish beyond corporate goals.  In 40 hours or less.

     But most of all … I accept that other people are learning, too.

     Maybe that sounds arrogant … but I really don’t care.  I can do it.  Been doing it for a long time … And I’ve proven those points more than once everywhere I’ve ever been.

     Relationships … well … There’s always Life 101.

     Inspiration:  I talked to a friend earlier.  Burned out on work, having my life turned upside down by loving someone I probably shouldn’t.  Like a lot of my close friends, he’s in his late 60’s.  And a Minister.

     I just said, “Look, I fucked up.  I’m sorry.  I feel horrible.”
     He said, “Look, we all go through it.  I can’t answer anything for ya.”
     “That’s what I keep telling people…”
     He looked at me, dead in the eyes, and said, “Yeah, that’s why we’ve always been able to hang out.  You get it.”

     Look, here it is, all laid out and simple.

     I’ll probably miss a few subjects … But it’s pretty much the same.

     Abuse:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Anger:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Hate:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Stress:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Empathy:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Oh, I don’t mean to sound cold … but really …  

     Being an empath sucks.  I can put up with a lot of shit, take on other people’s stress, and pretty much ruin myself trying to help ‘em out … but most of all, I can listen.  I can offer a few words here and there, but as a general rule, I don’t bother.

     My difference is, from other people, is that I don’t give advice.  I ask questions. 
     “Is that what you want?”
     “Are you happy with that?”
     “So that’s your decision?”
     “Are you being true to yourself?”
     They’re not hard questions, really.

     But when you’re an empath, and you’re trying — sometimes, trying your damndest — to care, you can only do so much for a person as they’ll let you.  Sometimes, they’re not honest about their problems, telling you one thing, and feeling something totally different.
     Other times … it’s time to either let go, or don’t.  

     The end.

     Thinking about that, in my way, makes me realize …

     Me, I haven’t been very “faithful” to several people who are integral in my life.  I’ve kept a lot of things to my self.  I’ve said, “Hey, I’ll handle it,” when I very obviously needed counsel.  I needed a pep talk, and never asked for one.
     To those people … Those friends … Family … Mentors … and other people who rely on me … 
     I’ve been a shit.  And I sincerely apologize.
     And when I haven’t told you anything … you’re still right here?
     That’s some pretty damn serious devotion.

     Sometimes, I just need certain those around me to know that I’m right here.  I get it, or will, and … *shrug*  Sometimes, I need someone to listen to me, too.

     Once you surround yourself with those people — those people that you care about, and they care about you — everything falls into place.

     You can’t love without trust.

     And vice versa.

     It does take a leap of faith.

     Some people get that … and some people don’t.

     Pet me!  Pet me!  Stop petting me!

     [ It digs its teeth into my hand ]

     “NO!  Stop it!  Damn cat!”

     Don’t yell at me!

     [ It runs and hides. ]

     “Bloody cat!”

     [ Minutes pass. ]

     Pet me!  Pet me!  Stop petting me!

     [ It smacks at my hand, wraps all four paws around my arm, and cuts nice and deep. ]

     “NO!”

     Don’t yell at me!

     [ It runs and hides. ]

     [ I wash it out, and bandage it as best I can ... jagged little scars. ]

     [ Minutes pass. ]

     Pet me!  Pet me!

     “No.  You bite.  You scratch.  Go away.”

     Pet me!  Pet me!

     “No.  Go away.”

     [ I ignore the cat ]

     Pet me!  Pet me!

     [ It forces itself in my lap.  Everything's good. ]

     [ Minutes pass. ]

     [ It growls and hisses, forewarning of yet another bite or scratch. ]

     “Get off me!”

     [ It won't budge, and continues to growl and hiss. ]

     [ It bites ... ]

     “F$*%ing cat!”

     [ It runs and hides. ]

     [ Minutes pass. ]

     Pet me!  Pet me!

     [ I ignore it, and walk out the door. ]

     [ Its terms only. I wonder why I let it stay? ]