Forgetfulness

Many years ago I was diagnosed with a disorder that I keep under control to some degree through medication. It’s very difficult because without the medication, I’m all over the place and I tend to forget things because I’m not fully engaged in that one thing, but on many things at once. It is mind-numbing for me but I imagine it’s hard for those around me to understand this problem.

Regardless, there are certain things that I cannot forget. The things people say to me…the things certain people say to me. And this has had me in a quandary for some time. A few months ago, a family member said some things to me that I just keep replaying in my head. However, I recently found out that they don’t remember having said these things to me. Actually, if it weren’t for one other person to be a witness, it almost could have happened in a vacuum. It would have been my word against theirs. The problem with this situation is that you could say I was the one who is forgetful but I’m not entirely so.

My problem is a chemical one and the said person’s problem is chemical as well. It’s called alcohol. I’ve had to deal with this all my life. People forgetting promises, stories, dates because they were under the influence. To some degree, I am the way I am because I had to live with this. It really makes me mad.

Many times I’ll get into a fight with one of the various people I know who have a substance problem and they blame my ‘lie’ on my disorder. But the truth is they conveniently forget a lot of stuff because they drink. And it’s easier to use my disorder as an excuse than for them to seek help for their issue.

The best part of all this forgetfulness is that I’ve repeatedly told these people how much I hate that they drink .Yet, when I get angry about seeing them that way, they conveniently forget how many times I’ve told them that their being drunk pisses me off. How there is no point talking to them in any positive way because they will just forget it the next day. I wish I could just forget how much this behavior annoys me but this is one area where I have the brain of an elephant.

The Eye of the Beholder

Being a woman is a supreme pain in the posterior for so many reasons. The list is so long that I’m not going to entertain it here. I’ll just talk about one aspect – hair.

I have the fabulous genetic blessing of being prematurely grey thanks to my parents. So from early in my teens, I’ve been struggling with covering my grey hairs. And as I grow older, the grey overtakes the chestnut more and more. My husband says I have a lot of stories to tell and that’s why I have all these grey hairs. It’s really sweet of him but no one else in this damn world sees it that way, I can assure you.

Now, I’m also blessed with hair that’s thick and grows inordinately fast. This is actually something I’m really happy about. Aside from my grey hairs, I’ve never complained about my hair. I have tons of it and I love the texture of it. The only problem is that with the kind of hair that I have and the speed with which it grows, means I have to visit the salon at least every 4 weeks to get the roots colored to hide the grey.

Ok, yes, so what’s the big deal? Well, one time I went to a different hairdresser than the one I’m used to visiting. And she kept telling me how lucky I was to have the hair I did because she had thin hair and had some bald spots and she had to get extensions to cover those patches. Now, normally I would feel bad but I kind of got annoyed because….as she’s complaining about her hair, I’m frustrated with my greys poking out from every angle. I just couldn’t see why I was blessed. I often have people stare at patches of my grey hair for moments that I have to wave my hand in front of their face!! What’s also annoying is that my face and my hair tell conflicting stories about my age, which is also annoying. I’m sure people look at her patches of baldness but I don’t think those go as noticed and grey. There is no way for me to comb or do my hair to hide them once the roots show! In the line of work that I’m in, grey hairs signify inability to handle stress and that’s not acceptable. But if a man has grey hair, he’s distinguished. How about you shove that in the garbage? That’s totally not fair! So if a guy has grey hair, he’s sexy…but if I have grey hair, I’m a basket case that can’t handle stress. Something is so rotten in that logic is smells like a backed-up sewer. Why am I not distinguished when I do twice or three times the stuff any man can do and I do it better and get paid less for it? I’ve never heard a bigger crock of poop in my life.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that no matter what…all women hate what they have. But I hate it more for how society makes me feel about my issue than I normally would with anything else. Stupid society!

Internal/External

The title of this piece is very near and dear to my heart for two reasons.
1) It’s a reference to some terminology I’ve been using on a constant basis at work
2) It works well for this essay.

Recently, a colleague of mine went on a job interview for which he was probably a perfect fit. However, he didn’t get the job because he’s considered ‘external’. What the heck am I talking about right? Well, my colleague is a contractor and as such, he’s considered external since he doesn’t directly work for this company as I do (that would make me internal). This game of semantics is obviously a load of poop to me for a lot of reasons.

One of which is the fact that he is a phenomenal worker. He’s intelligent, a team player and very motivated and responsible. I think anyone who would recommend him would say this. Another reason I think this is total crap is due to the fact that our economy stinks right now. And since he’s not a citizen, there’s no chance he’s going to get a job worthy of his skills. The reason for this is that a lot of the regulations because of the TARP money say you can’t give a job to someone who is not American. So, I’m upset about this because this person wants very much to be a citizen and he’s also an amazing worker who should have a job. So I don’t see him as external in any way. Especially because he’s been working in this corporation for close to 3 years as a contractor – he’s more internal than internal people!

Basically, I’m tired of this mentality because there are tons of ‘internal’ people who have jobs and are slackers. Why do they continue to have jobs? Because they are Americans? That doesn’t seem fair since they certainly don’t seem to be working as if they want a job. It all goes back to the immigration discussion which will get me going to hours but I don’t have the time to type all that stuff at this moment. I’m tired of this kind of thinking and it’s becoming more and more rampant.

Lucky Man

A couple of months ago my husband and I went to Egypt. As we walked around and went to the bazaars, many of the vendors told my husband that he was a lucky man to be married to me. I kept laughing at this because these people didn’t really know me so how could they possibly say that. It was all a ploy to get me to buy a bunch of stuff and well, it didn’t work too well. I didn’t buy that much in the grand scheme of vacation buying.

As the weeks have progressed, I’ve been thinking really hard about this fact that my husband is a lucky man. Because darn it, I think he is really, really lucky to be married to me. Everybody has been telling me this but how come I don’t think my husband knows this. Let me tell you why.

Now I know that men and romance are oxymorons. These terms are mutually exclusive! It never really occurs to men to be romantic. And if it does, what they think is romantic isn’t necessarily seen that way by the female sort. I’m pretty dang sure that when my husband cooks for me, he sees that as the most romantic gesture known to man. But I can’t really see how taking everything that hasn’t been eaten or hasn’t turned rotten in the fridge and putting it in a pot is a romantic meal. Call me picky but I’m pretty sure Mario Batali didn’t make his fortune on stuff like this, despite what some people say. When I cook, I really think about what I want to make. Granted I incorporate those good for nothing greens in wherever I can. But I really do make an effort to think about what he would like to eat.

When I am sitting at my desk toiling away on school work, and he comes up to me and pulls down the back of my shirt, I certainly don’t think the mere utterance of “Oh my god you have a lot of pimples on your neck and upper back!” is romantic? I’m waiting, hoping, dying for him to kiss my neck and make me feel sexy and beautiful. Nope, not with my husband. Instead I get cootie talk! So when I tell him
“Why don’t you pick them if they are grossing you out so much?,” I’m the bad one. I’m gross. Hello!!! Some romance please!!!

Some women would cut him off completely, throw him out the door. Nope, not me. I just let him continue to be a big kid -playing practical jokes on the dogs and me. He is very darn lucky. But I guess I am too since I can write these things about him. And he better not complain!

The Sins of the Mother

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/24/books/24plath.html?hp

As if Mondays weren’t bad to begin with, the other day I saw this little number on the NYTimes website. It basically tells how Sylvia Plath’s son committed suicide recently. Oh man, this totally bums me out – I mean, really how can you not be with such a topic?

But what really upsets me about this article is how much people don’t understand about depression. This poor man had it in his genes and the genetic setback of his mom affected him too. I’m sure this poor guy saw a counselor and tried to get help but ultimately, there was no way around it. And this makes me sad because with some things, it seems as though you can’t beat genetics.

This whole topic is one very dear to my heart because so many people, including myself, have gone through periods of depression. It’s the most debilitating thing that can happen to you without physical manifestations. If someone breaks their leg, you see the cast. However, with depression, it’s all internal. The struggles with the thoughts and emotions are so tiring. It’s like going to the gym for hours at a time, picking up weights that are 4 times your size…you become that fatigued and sore. Life has no meaning and you never want to see the light of day or the darkness of night.

So many people go through this and yes, perhaps we are the prozac nation but I don’t think this is an exclusively American phenomenon. I say this because it runs in my family and I’m a first generation American. It existed in the motherlands of many people.

I’m one of the lucky few. With the help of my sister, who battles with this every day, I went to see a therapist – to talk. I’m much better today. Even though it’s embarrassing for some and it has a horrible connotation, I know it doesn’t mean a single thing if a person goes to therapy. I know they aren’t cuckoo or insane. They are trying to manage their feelings, emotions, thoughts and make sense of the absolute chaos surrounding them.

I’m sure other people who saw this article thought nothing of it. They probably even dismissed it jokingly. But it’s not a joke. Anyone who has ever experienced the utter helplessness of depression can certainly tell you otherwise.

The Banished

In honor of the new year and a list that appears yearly on Michigan’s Lake Superior State University’s website, I’ll be writing a bit about words, phrases and expressions that should be banished from usage because they are either misused, useless or overused. Feel free to send me your word grievances and I’ll be happy to take a stab at explaining why they are dumb, repetitive and just plain annoying!!

To inaugurate this column, let’s talk about the expression ‘to get/have one’s ducks in a row’. I hear this lovely phrase on a pretty frequent basis at work. That alone makes it annoying. But it’s isn’t just the repetitive use of this phrase that annoys me, it’s just the whole idea behind it.

The meaning of this idiom (or idiot if you want to encourage my typographical errors) is to complete one’s preparation with regard to some action. You would become organized or ‘get your ducks in a row’ before writing a paper or going on vacation. Basically, you would plan and not do things willy-nilly. The idea of the idiom itself is lovely but the imagery behind it is a bit disturbing. I’m guessing that this expression came from shooting practice and lining up targets but I’m not entirely sure of the origin. I imagine a cute teenage boy at a fair trying to get a big stuffed animal for his girlfriend by shooting at a line of metallic ducks on a conveyor belt. He has to shoot the line of ducks one after the other without missing any to get the teddy bear. He has to take small steps to get to a goal, whether it’s a stuffed teddy bear or weight loss, etc.

The silly part of this expression is that if I had a bunch of ducks, I wouldn’t line them up in a row to shoot at them. I would probably pet them (not sure if ducks will comply with getting petted) or give them some feed or have my dogs chase them. But I surely wouldn’t line them up to shoot them. Unless, of course, the ducks one imagines is supervisors or bosses that use inane expressions that could easily be substituted by something like ‘get one’s act together’ or ‘take small measurable steps to obtain your goal’. Then I could line them up on a conveyor belt and really have some fun.

Book Clubbed

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/07/fashion/07clubs.html?_r=1&emc=eta1

I read this article a long time ago in the NYTimes and it made me laugh because it talks about how to politely get out of a book club. Having been in a couple myself, I understand the dislike of reading books you’d rather not read. I mean, you are going to be spending a considerable amount of time reading a book. You might as well enjoy or want to read it.

But it’s tricky, as with most things involving other people, you always end up managing some political intrigue. You’ll find there is the one person who wants to sway the vote for the upcoming book by talking to others and getting them to vote differently. In one of the clubs I’m in, this recently happened and I found it incredibly annoying because #1) the books that month were my choice #2) because I think this kind of pandering is immature. If you don’t want to read the book, don’t vote for it. But do not try to influence other people’s votes. What the heck? #3) In the end, everyone really enjoyed the book so there!

Regardless, it seems like with some people, you will never find a book you will agree on. Even if there are 7 completely different people in a specific group, it’s difficult to find 2 people who will enjoy any given book. And there’s always some darn book that I really have no desire to read, but I read it any way if I have the time. Because sometimes books are like that – there’s a reason why the proverb “You can’t judge a book by its cover” exists. They end up surprising you. Not that I can think of a specific example at the moment but you know what I mean.

And on the other end, you’ll have some people who just want to read a book so badly that no matter how many times everyone else rejects it as a choice, they still keep presenting it. Persistence works sometimes. And sometimes you just wonder why they don’t read the book on their own instead of putting a whole group of people through the torture of reading a book they’ve already decided they never want to read.

Ahhh who would have thought reading a book would be such a problem?

Way to Go, O!

As the economy gets worse and worse, we hear news that AIG is still paying their executives 165 million in bonuses. When I read this in the newspaper, I couldn’t believe it. I even said “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” out loud. The gall of this company! The government bailed them out and what did they do the first time around? They had a party to celebrate the bailout! Now they are going to give their executives bonuses. Excuse me but I think it’s time to just let this company fall.

I’m happy at least that President Obama is looking for a way to block these bonuses. I don’t care if AIG is contractually obligated to pay out these bonuses. These are not normal times! Contracts can be re-written in these kinds of situations! This kind of crap (and that is exactly what it is – crap) is exactly what got us into this mess in the first place. These executives who think that what they do is the most important thing in the whole world. And we can’t just let them keep doing this! There are millions of people who are going to go through such trouble because of the shenanigans of these executives and these executives are continuing to be selfish. Their sense of entitlement is as big as the darn bailout amount! Give us all a break.

This is absolutely ridiculous! When the bailout was suggested, I kept praying that the government would find a way to take a lien on all those past bonuses that these executives have gotten. But that didn’t happen. And the monetary sum required for this bailout has grown and grown and I keep wondering where in heck this money is going to come from. These numbers aren’t even imaginable to me!

I’m am hoping in the deepest part of my heart that karma will come back to get these guys. And I’m also hoping that President Obama finds a way to make these people pay for the leisurely way they’ve been messing up the rest of the world’s lives.

Lack of Concentration

Lack of Concentration
I know what I have to do
It’s been a burden for so long
Need to wrap up the past
In order to proceed into my future
But it’s so hard to think
And focus
When I keep thinking
You are somewhere
Drinking in order to forget
Your problems
To send reality into oblivion.
To drown your emotions.
Emotions that maybe I’ve created.
I am not sure since you
Won’t communicate.
I’m trying to be selfish
Like you
To think of only myself
And get this albatross off my back.
Sadly, I’m not made that way.
I give my all to everyone
Who means something to me,
Whom I love.
Why do I bother?
You don’t care
So I can’t care about you
I have to keep working
Writing about how I feel
About the thoughts spinning
Uncontrollably
Off the hamster wheel of my brain.

Another Night on the Town

Last night I had a wonderful dinner with my husband and good friend. Absolutely delectable dishes and silly conversation. It was nice to have spent that time with them and to talk about importand and also ridiculously unimportant conversations.

Towards the end of our delightful dinner, my friend got up to go to the bathroom and my husband got up to let her pass by. As they both stood and made space, I noticed the couple at the table next to us (behind my husband's back). The man was checking his palm pilot device,writing on it with the stylus and the woman was just sitting there looking blankly out into space.

As my husband decided to wait for my friend to come back to the table before re-sitting, I got the chance to watch this little movie happening between this couple. The man continued to check/write into him palm and the woman took a sip of wine, put it down, fixed her hair, looked around, etc.

I began to wonder if this couple was on a date. And I kept thinking that if I were on a date, I'd smack that damn pilot right out of his hand. But she didn't say anything to him so I figured they were married, which doesn't condone his behavior. But it made it seem more logical since married couples rarely listen to each other( right, honey?).

I looked over at the Mexican and made a face and pointed my head in the direction of the couple at the next table. But he looked at some other table. So, I did it again with the express glance of the table closer to us. He saw them but the reason I was doing all this wasn't clear to him.

Finally, my friend came back from the bathroom, and I told her to look at the next table. I explained in Italian that the guy had been working on his palm for quite some time and had been completely neglecting the woman.

So I asked her if she could see if the couple had wedding rings. She looked at the woman and I looked at the man. But it wasn't obvious at all. She said she saw what appeared to be an engagement ring on the woman's right ring finger. She thought this was weird, since we both thought engagement rings should be on the left ring finger.

As we were arguing about which finger an engagement ring should be on, the man was still working on this palm pilot. 10 minutes since I noticed had to have elapsed and yet, this dude kept teching away. That woman must obviously be on a list for the next people to canonize for sainthood. I seriously wouldn't have had the patience to deal with that. Most certainly, that darn device would have found itself kicked out into the street or to pieces under my foot.

Technology definitely lets people know who is important.