I feel like I've had a cancer removed. I don't know why, but I just do. Have you ever felt as though you know something needs to go, but you like the comfort...you don't want the chemo, or the radiation, or the surgery, but it has to be done. What if all along you didn't know you had cancer...you didn't realize that your organs, pumping blood, functioning normally, were fighting a cancer? What if you welcomed the carcinogen in, and your very heart worked to pump blood to the organs who unknowingly aided the growth of it, and now realize you were given cancer by doing so? What if now it has spread to a place that leaves you feeling empty, hollow, and alone?
It's just a day; and this too shall pass. I will heal, and eventually, be better off. But for now, I have wounds that need some time to heal.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Mazatlan in May!
The trip started off normal enough, although I can tell you that with my background in anxiety, it is not fun riding pregnant on a commuter plane into Mexico. Big shout out to the stewardess who thought it necessary to mention as we are landing "Let's see how this goes; the captain's first time flying into Mazatlan!" I appreciate your confidence, jackass.
I found my destination easily enough. It is still saddening to see the living conditions there, but ironically the people are entirely happy with a small town attitude in the state's capital. Sinoloa is full of fun people, mostly local workers who cater to tourists, and Canadian retirees.
Our place was right on the ocean. It was beautiful with the exception of the gawking construction men and the jackhammer tearing up the side of the wall next to our resort. If they weren't tearing up the wall, they were playing mariachi music so loud I could not be left to my thoughts. That's where sitting in the infinity pool with Incubus on my headphones made my vacation....the words "I wish you were here" and how only two of the people I wished to be there were actually present. But they are fantastic company! Chris and Jamie are more like family to me than friends, so the trip was so comfortable and relaxing, of course with some interspersed fun!
We met another American family, Jake and Carrie, who just had a baby boy Drew. Drew was the smiliest little boy I've met; it kind of makes me hope peanut is a boy! Dr. Jake (who is a construction worker and likes to smoke a lot of weed) also diagnosed the cause of my precious little one: antibiotics. Guess I missed the part of the lecture from my dermatoligist that discussed how antiobiotics interfere with birth control.
(By the way, as you continue reading be advised that for some reason myspace will not allow me to stop typing in italics and return to normal font).
As far as the experiences there, we had a blast. We went out one night (and I realized that I just plain have fun and possibly come off as crazy with or without alcohol) to a series of places. Gus y Gus featured a random group of American's partying like it's 1999 and dancing to late 80s hip hop in front of a video screen. The one girl particularly kept dancing as though at any minute she could, in Freudian fashion, break into the sorority girl in front of her family. Quite amusing if I don't say so myself. The cover band that proceeded to play there liked Santana. Jake got suckered into buying the girls roses from a sweet little Mexican girl whose parents were obviously two tables down subcontracting her for sympathy points. We mosied by pulmonia (open air cab) down to Bora Bora where the driver failed to mention that the place he was taking us to was closed for the evening. Why did we tip him anyway? Jake wasn't too happy, but we passed a giant frog and he proceeded to get friendly taking pictures with it. That passed the time. Next it was off to Tony's where a cover band that consisted of what looked like an Indian (I dubbed him "Plays with strings"), two busboys fresh off their shifts, a butch-like female with a rather masculine voice, and one stoner who couldn't wipe the smile off his face if you slapped it off. They were cute. Joan Jett came on, and I stopped stereotyping and contemplated dancing. I did not. Finally last but not least, we ventured over to a place called Jungle Juice. We were walking and we heard the Eagles and figured it sounded fun. Jake and Carrie learned that Mexican "two for one" specials basically mean you are buying an overpriced soda unless you get beer. The band playing was fantastic...Ozzie, the Eagles,Lynard; tons of covers and all played by two guys about my age, one resident drummer, and a Spanish speaking lead singer. The kicker about the lead singer is that he was balding yet still sporting a blonde, permed mullet, dressed in leather attire, and most certainly donned a wind-machine as part of the band's stage effects. He was quite animated, and even had a scarf tied around the mic stand that fluttered in "wind".
Ahh...vacation! Somewhere in Mazatlan there's a table that reads Macie was here. Oh, and peanut too!
I found my destination easily enough. It is still saddening to see the living conditions there, but ironically the people are entirely happy with a small town attitude in the state's capital. Sinoloa is full of fun people, mostly local workers who cater to tourists, and Canadian retirees.
Our place was right on the ocean. It was beautiful with the exception of the gawking construction men and the jackhammer tearing up the side of the wall next to our resort. If they weren't tearing up the wall, they were playing mariachi music so loud I could not be left to my thoughts. That's where sitting in the infinity pool with Incubus on my headphones made my vacation....the words "I wish you were here" and how only two of the people I wished to be there were actually present. But they are fantastic company! Chris and Jamie are more like family to me than friends, so the trip was so comfortable and relaxing, of course with some interspersed fun!
We met another American family, Jake and Carrie, who just had a baby boy Drew. Drew was the smiliest little boy I've met; it kind of makes me hope peanut is a boy! Dr. Jake (who is a construction worker and likes to smoke a lot of weed) also diagnosed the cause of my precious little one: antibiotics. Guess I missed the part of the lecture from my dermatoligist that discussed how antiobiotics interfere with birth control.
(By the way, as you continue reading be advised that for some reason myspace will not allow me to stop typing in italics and return to normal font).
As far as the experiences there, we had a blast. We went out one night (and I realized that I just plain have fun and possibly come off as crazy with or without alcohol) to a series of places. Gus y Gus featured a random group of American's partying like it's 1999 and dancing to late 80s hip hop in front of a video screen. The one girl particularly kept dancing as though at any minute she could, in Freudian fashion, break into the sorority girl in front of her family. Quite amusing if I don't say so myself. The cover band that proceeded to play there liked Santana. Jake got suckered into buying the girls roses from a sweet little Mexican girl whose parents were obviously two tables down subcontracting her for sympathy points. We mosied by pulmonia (open air cab) down to Bora Bora where the driver failed to mention that the place he was taking us to was closed for the evening. Why did we tip him anyway? Jake wasn't too happy, but we passed a giant frog and he proceeded to get friendly taking pictures with it. That passed the time. Next it was off to Tony's where a cover band that consisted of what looked like an Indian (I dubbed him "Plays with strings"), two busboys fresh off their shifts, a butch-like female with a rather masculine voice, and one stoner who couldn't wipe the smile off his face if you slapped it off. They were cute. Joan Jett came on, and I stopped stereotyping and contemplated dancing. I did not. Finally last but not least, we ventured over to a place called Jungle Juice. We were walking and we heard the Eagles and figured it sounded fun. Jake and Carrie learned that Mexican "two for one" specials basically mean you are buying an overpriced soda unless you get beer. The band playing was fantastic...Ozzie, the Eagles,Lynard; tons of covers and all played by two guys about my age, one resident drummer, and a Spanish speaking lead singer. The kicker about the lead singer is that he was balding yet still sporting a blonde, permed mullet, dressed in leather attire, and most certainly donned a wind-machine as part of the band's stage effects. He was quite animated, and even had a scarf tied around the mic stand that fluttered in "wind".
Ahh...vacation! Somewhere in Mazatlan there's a table that reads Macie was here. Oh, and peanut too!
Dear Kieran,
Today, I am able to give you an identity; a name that is all your own. The sonogram (you'll learn what that is someday) showed you to be a boy. Unless for some reason the sonogram is wrong....which could happen, but let's suppose for the sake of the overly sappy letter I am about to write you, it's not.
You cannot understand how insanely relieved I was to see your vital organs working as they should, or how it feels to see your heartbeat and know that you are alive. It is the most amazing thing a mother can feel, and now I feel like I actually miss you, although we haven't met. I want so much to meet you; to see how much you look like me, and to hold you!
You are already so amazing and so loved....I admit, I selfishly wanted a girl because (you'll learn this, too) boys go through this phase when they are young...the "terrible twos". Having been the oldest of 5 siblings...I've seen it first hand. I will tell you now, that if you should decide to become a brat and throw constant fits for no reason I will still love you, but am going to be one of those "tough mothers". So be forewarned... On the other hand, I can't wait until we can play pirate and games and I can teach you to ride a bike. And, someday when you have sisters, you are going to have to be big brother. This alone will be your payback for the "terrible twos".
I wanted to tell you that I can't believe how much you've grown, how beautiful you've become, and how much I love you already. You are my son, my little angel without wings, and I just simply cannot wait to meet you!
I love you!
You cannot understand how insanely relieved I was to see your vital organs working as they should, or how it feels to see your heartbeat and know that you are alive. It is the most amazing thing a mother can feel, and now I feel like I actually miss you, although we haven't met. I want so much to meet you; to see how much you look like me, and to hold you!
You are already so amazing and so loved....I admit, I selfishly wanted a girl because (you'll learn this, too) boys go through this phase when they are young...the "terrible twos". Having been the oldest of 5 siblings...I've seen it first hand. I will tell you now, that if you should decide to become a brat and throw constant fits for no reason I will still love you, but am going to be one of those "tough mothers". So be forewarned... On the other hand, I can't wait until we can play pirate and games and I can teach you to ride a bike. And, someday when you have sisters, you are going to have to be big brother. This alone will be your payback for the "terrible twos".
I wanted to tell you that I can't believe how much you've grown, how beautiful you've become, and how much I love you already. You are my son, my little angel without wings, and I just simply cannot wait to meet you!
I love you!
Customer Service- (service)= Angry customer
If you take the service out of customer service, all you are left with is the customer, who is undoubtedly angry. Of course, I did not just pick a topic out of my hat and decide to blog about it....I had a negative experience today that nearly boiled my blood to a temperature not previously reached since my married days.
As a client serving professional who had worked as a bartender/server for nearly 10 years, no matter how much I loathed a person's attitude I was forced to serve them with a smile to make the customer happy. There were days this made me want to vomit. Once, when I was experiencing a rather troublesome day in my divorce, a man who walked into the bar where I was working (a Red Lobster that closed at 10 PM) at 9:30, I was less than thrilled. But I tried my best to stifle the tears and hedge my pissed off attitude. Usually, this is best accomplished using the avoidance method and since it was late I focused on cleaning. The man orders steak and lobster no less, and of course at 10:25 orders dessert. The ice cream for the dessert he ordered was mush, and at this point we were running low on all of our desserts. When I came out to explain to him what had happened, he began bitching that I gave him shitty service, was rude, and only told him we were out of ice cream because I wanted him to leave. Oh, and that he could've received better service at Jack-in the Box. (I disagree, and I'll tell you why in a few minutes). Instead of calling the manager as I normally would have (and since I didn't spit in his food and we really WERE out of ice cream), I told him the truth: "Sir, I apologize, however, I have had a horrible personal day. My husband and I are splitting up, and he stole $600 from me today. I was avoiding talking to you and probably came off rude because I was so afraid I might cry at one wrong word mentioned. We truly are out of ice cream as it is a bit after we close and deliveries are not until tomorrow. What little of the ice cream is left is disgusting and I was attempting to be good at my job and forewarn you. I'd also appreciate it if when you dine out alone, you could have some consideration for the people working here. Simply because you are here to dine does not entitle you to conversation, only service with a smile which I believe I gave you. I do this job 5 days a week, and some days are just rough personally. Unlike others with jobs less personal, I cannot avoid talking to people when I am upset." He apologized profusely and tipped me 50% on his total tab. He also decided to go somewhere else for dessert.
I was proud of my "stand-up" attitude, but should have argued stronger on the service at Jack-in-the-Crack. My worst experience ever occurred at the Point Loma JITB. (This may appear a bit overdramatic). It was a simple drive through transaction: I ordered a meal with curly fries instead of regular. They cost extra. I worked down the street, and since I was aware they cost extra, if the "superstar" behind the counter with the 8th grade education doesn't mention that to me, I don't think anything of it. When I receive my order, I always double check to be sure it's all there (for obvious reasons). Upon the realization that I had received plain fries, I explained to her that I ordered curly fries, asked if she could exchange them and noted that I would pay for them. She promptly told me "No."
"Pardon me?"
"We have other people waiting and you didn't order them."
To which I replied: "If you didn't hear me order them that is not my fault, however, I did in fact, order curly fries."
She refuses. I walk inside and asked to speak with the manager. The manager and the fat-ass that refused to trade out my curly fries start blabbing in Spanish, and the manager throws the curly fries in a bag, and then at me. Keep in mind, I do not expect even so much as three star service from a fast-food chain, nor do I expect a smile, but I would at least friggin hope for the food I ordered. This incident bothered me mainly because chances are the tub of lard that refused to serve me probably swam her 300 pound ass over here from Mexico and is working illegally while refusing to serve me what I ordered. All I could think was what happened to customer service? I did not call the number to report bad service and pray for a $5 gift card, I simply figured that if misery is what some choose, so be it. It pisses me off, however, that the same bitch would likely walk into the Red Lobster down the street where I worked at 9:55 (when we close at 10), order the all-you-can-eat shrimp and then stiff the server.
That is my background in negative customer service. It happens, and I moved on. Until today: The Boxing Club where I worked out pre-Denver move, (and by work out I mean attended maybe 6 times) cancelled the cancellation of my membership. I know, it sounds backward. Apparently when a company fraudulently charges a card I did not authorize them to charge therefore making my payment late, they reserve that right.
When I cancelled my membership, I asked them to send me a bill b/c I didn't want my corporate work card being charged for the membership anymore. I figured I'd throw them some money here and there or pay off the balance of my membership in one lump sum. Instead, they charged my card after I cancelled my membership plus late fee, three times. When I inquired as to why they did this, the friendly customer service rep explained (with a smile), that a cancellation can be cancelled if payment does not go through.
Fuck them. So, I called AmEx today and put all the past few charges (which I had figured I would pay, until they raped me for two more months of membership at $69/month) under "fraudulent" and cut off future payment privileges to that company via AmEx. Since when did businesses decide to ass-fuck people because they think they can get away with it? If I tell you to stop charging my card, you STOP fucking charging my card! You don't continue to charge my card with late fees, and then decide to cancel the cancellation of my membership. (I know I said I was working on cutting "fuck" out of my vocabulary, but sometimes people fall off the wagon). FUCK YOU BOXING CLUB, and your snide FUCKING douchebag customer service reps with their ugly-ass faces and TINY FUCKING Asian penises for which they join your STUPID FUCKING GAY ASS club in a lame attempt to overcompensate.
There, that feels good; I think it's out of my system.
As a client serving professional who had worked as a bartender/server for nearly 10 years, no matter how much I loathed a person's attitude I was forced to serve them with a smile to make the customer happy. There were days this made me want to vomit. Once, when I was experiencing a rather troublesome day in my divorce, a man who walked into the bar where I was working (a Red Lobster that closed at 10 PM) at 9:30, I was less than thrilled. But I tried my best to stifle the tears and hedge my pissed off attitude. Usually, this is best accomplished using the avoidance method and since it was late I focused on cleaning. The man orders steak and lobster no less, and of course at 10:25 orders dessert. The ice cream for the dessert he ordered was mush, and at this point we were running low on all of our desserts. When I came out to explain to him what had happened, he began bitching that I gave him shitty service, was rude, and only told him we were out of ice cream because I wanted him to leave. Oh, and that he could've received better service at Jack-in the Box. (I disagree, and I'll tell you why in a few minutes). Instead of calling the manager as I normally would have (and since I didn't spit in his food and we really WERE out of ice cream), I told him the truth: "Sir, I apologize, however, I have had a horrible personal day. My husband and I are splitting up, and he stole $600 from me today. I was avoiding talking to you and probably came off rude because I was so afraid I might cry at one wrong word mentioned. We truly are out of ice cream as it is a bit after we close and deliveries are not until tomorrow. What little of the ice cream is left is disgusting and I was attempting to be good at my job and forewarn you. I'd also appreciate it if when you dine out alone, you could have some consideration for the people working here. Simply because you are here to dine does not entitle you to conversation, only service with a smile which I believe I gave you. I do this job 5 days a week, and some days are just rough personally. Unlike others with jobs less personal, I cannot avoid talking to people when I am upset." He apologized profusely and tipped me 50% on his total tab. He also decided to go somewhere else for dessert.
I was proud of my "stand-up" attitude, but should have argued stronger on the service at Jack-in-the-Crack. My worst experience ever occurred at the Point Loma JITB. (This may appear a bit overdramatic). It was a simple drive through transaction: I ordered a meal with curly fries instead of regular. They cost extra. I worked down the street, and since I was aware they cost extra, if the "superstar" behind the counter with the 8th grade education doesn't mention that to me, I don't think anything of it. When I receive my order, I always double check to be sure it's all there (for obvious reasons). Upon the realization that I had received plain fries, I explained to her that I ordered curly fries, asked if she could exchange them and noted that I would pay for them. She promptly told me "No."
"Pardon me?"
"We have other people waiting and you didn't order them."
To which I replied: "If you didn't hear me order them that is not my fault, however, I did in fact, order curly fries."
She refuses. I walk inside and asked to speak with the manager. The manager and the fat-ass that refused to trade out my curly fries start blabbing in Spanish, and the manager throws the curly fries in a bag, and then at me. Keep in mind, I do not expect even so much as three star service from a fast-food chain, nor do I expect a smile, but I would at least friggin hope for the food I ordered. This incident bothered me mainly because chances are the tub of lard that refused to serve me probably swam her 300 pound ass over here from Mexico and is working illegally while refusing to serve me what I ordered. All I could think was what happened to customer service? I did not call the number to report bad service and pray for a $5 gift card, I simply figured that if misery is what some choose, so be it. It pisses me off, however, that the same bitch would likely walk into the Red Lobster down the street where I worked at 9:55 (when we close at 10), order the all-you-can-eat shrimp and then stiff the server.
That is my background in negative customer service. It happens, and I moved on. Until today: The Boxing Club where I worked out pre-Denver move, (and by work out I mean attended maybe 6 times) cancelled the cancellation of my membership. I know, it sounds backward. Apparently when a company fraudulently charges a card I did not authorize them to charge therefore making my payment late, they reserve that right.
When I cancelled my membership, I asked them to send me a bill b/c I didn't want my corporate work card being charged for the membership anymore. I figured I'd throw them some money here and there or pay off the balance of my membership in one lump sum. Instead, they charged my card after I cancelled my membership plus late fee, three times. When I inquired as to why they did this, the friendly customer service rep explained (with a smile), that a cancellation can be cancelled if payment does not go through.
Fuck them. So, I called AmEx today and put all the past few charges (which I had figured I would pay, until they raped me for two more months of membership at $69/month) under "fraudulent" and cut off future payment privileges to that company via AmEx. Since when did businesses decide to ass-fuck people because they think they can get away with it? If I tell you to stop charging my card, you STOP fucking charging my card! You don't continue to charge my card with late fees, and then decide to cancel the cancellation of my membership. (I know I said I was working on cutting "fuck" out of my vocabulary, but sometimes people fall off the wagon). FUCK YOU BOXING CLUB, and your snide FUCKING douchebag customer service reps with their ugly-ass faces and TINY FUCKING Asian penises for which they join your STUPID FUCKING GAY ASS club in a lame attempt to overcompensate.
There, that feels good; I think it's out of my system.
The Catch up Game
It's been a while and so I thought I'd blog what's new with me. Which is really not much. Not much that is very rockstar anyway.
To start, I am over being pregnant. I hear this is pretty common with six weeks to go. Especially in a city I don't know that is twenty degrees warmer than San Diego with no ocean. My little soccer player seems to think that my stomach is a kicking bag. It's actually more like tossing and turning these days because there isn't much room for him to move. Not that I blame him; I'm not very comfortable either with the foot swelling and heat, but I'm also not shoved into a sac of water with little room to move and growing half an ounce a day. I am restless and waiting to meet the little critter.
I really miss San Diego. I miss my friends, the weather, the city itself....all of it. This is to be expected when you have great friends and lived in the most beautiful city in the US. I find myself constantly remembering that I am doing what is best for Kieran, although selfishly I really want to go home. I know it's not my original home, but it had become home, and it was me. Everyone has a place that suits them. For some it's NYC, for some it's Seattle and all the rain. For me it was the beach. I have friends there that felt more like family at times, and they will be hard to replace (not that they ever could be, but it will take a while to find others I clicked with so well). I miss the transience and the activity. I miss the music scene. Where else can you be on the bay watching Death Cab for Cutie play? Ahhh...being homesick. Nice addition to the exhaustion....
Now that I've officially bummed you out (can't help but miss SD)....I do like Denver/Colorado Springs. I don't love it, and it doesn't feel like home, but what would after 3 months? If home is where your heart is, I'll never be home until I'm back in SD, so I figure until I can go back, I might as well make the best of it out here. Other than the heat it's a pretty great place to be. Lots of outdoor activity, the people are nice, and it does get the benefit of actual seasons, which I missed living in San Diego. Miss is a strong word though, because it's hard to complain when you have 75 degree weather all year long.
I got promoted at work, which is nice. It's a little early for me to be promoted, so I'm pretty excited. When I do go back to work it will be much better reviewing returns as opposed to preparing them. I also received a spot bonus for a project I just completed, which was nice. They are rare at my firm, so I'm pretty happy with that.
I don't have many grievances here, and since I haven't been out and about much I haven't even done much for people watching. I've encountered some strange people on the lightrail (more public transportation- yippee!), but that's about it. It's pretty common here for transit means into the city, so most people that ride it are professionals or students. I met one really interesting lady with some funky braids that might have been the cute princess leia thing if she weren't 250 pounds. I'll have to tell you that one in person, though. ;)
For music, I found a great indie venue down the road in the springs, however I am lacking indie lovers to go with me. Most of the people here give me a funny look when I say "The Umbrellas are playing a show for $5". I will have to meet some music lovers =) Or perhaps open my own venue, which is an idea I am tossing around. It is a big Christian market here, and being a Christian I am toying with opening a venue for Christian music, however, here's the kicker: most of the Christian music that isn't mainstream (played on regular radio) sucks. I shouldn't say it sucks--I should say it's not my style. I could feature bands like Mutemath and Anberlin if I could get them in.... I don't want to mess with alcohol if I open a business, which is posing the major dilemna. Anyway...now I'm rambling...
Otherwise, I'm pretty complacent. Hope ya'll are doing well in all parts of the country. <3
To start, I am over being pregnant. I hear this is pretty common with six weeks to go. Especially in a city I don't know that is twenty degrees warmer than San Diego with no ocean. My little soccer player seems to think that my stomach is a kicking bag. It's actually more like tossing and turning these days because there isn't much room for him to move. Not that I blame him; I'm not very comfortable either with the foot swelling and heat, but I'm also not shoved into a sac of water with little room to move and growing half an ounce a day. I am restless and waiting to meet the little critter.
I really miss San Diego. I miss my friends, the weather, the city itself....all of it. This is to be expected when you have great friends and lived in the most beautiful city in the US. I find myself constantly remembering that I am doing what is best for Kieran, although selfishly I really want to go home. I know it's not my original home, but it had become home, and it was me. Everyone has a place that suits them. For some it's NYC, for some it's Seattle and all the rain. For me it was the beach. I have friends there that felt more like family at times, and they will be hard to replace (not that they ever could be, but it will take a while to find others I clicked with so well). I miss the transience and the activity. I miss the music scene. Where else can you be on the bay watching Death Cab for Cutie play? Ahhh...being homesick. Nice addition to the exhaustion....
Now that I've officially bummed you out (can't help but miss SD)....I do like Denver/Colorado Springs. I don't love it, and it doesn't feel like home, but what would after 3 months? If home is where your heart is, I'll never be home until I'm back in SD, so I figure until I can go back, I might as well make the best of it out here. Other than the heat it's a pretty great place to be. Lots of outdoor activity, the people are nice, and it does get the benefit of actual seasons, which I missed living in San Diego. Miss is a strong word though, because it's hard to complain when you have 75 degree weather all year long.
I got promoted at work, which is nice. It's a little early for me to be promoted, so I'm pretty excited. When I do go back to work it will be much better reviewing returns as opposed to preparing them. I also received a spot bonus for a project I just completed, which was nice. They are rare at my firm, so I'm pretty happy with that.
I don't have many grievances here, and since I haven't been out and about much I haven't even done much for people watching. I've encountered some strange people on the lightrail (more public transportation- yippee!), but that's about it. It's pretty common here for transit means into the city, so most people that ride it are professionals or students. I met one really interesting lady with some funky braids that might have been the cute princess leia thing if she weren't 250 pounds. I'll have to tell you that one in person, though. ;)
For music, I found a great indie venue down the road in the springs, however I am lacking indie lovers to go with me. Most of the people here give me a funny look when I say "The Umbrellas are playing a show for $5". I will have to meet some music lovers =) Or perhaps open my own venue, which is an idea I am tossing around. It is a big Christian market here, and being a Christian I am toying with opening a venue for Christian music, however, here's the kicker: most of the Christian music that isn't mainstream (played on regular radio) sucks. I shouldn't say it sucks--I should say it's not my style. I could feature bands like Mutemath and Anberlin if I could get them in.... I don't want to mess with alcohol if I open a business, which is posing the major dilemna. Anyway...now I'm rambling...
Otherwise, I'm pretty complacent. Hope ya'll are doing well in all parts of the country. <3
Crash!
I know it's been a while since I have written anything, let alone any wanderlustful tales for your amusement. In this case, however, I am not merely in a mood for self-reflection but am frustrated and would prefer to write it out instead of continuing in this frustrated haze. I realize I, at times, use this blog as a metaphorical couch, and apologize to my dedicated readers ;)
My main struggle lately has been with myself. I am trying to find pieces of Macie without feeling in cognito as a mom. There is no "Motherhood 101" offered at the local community college or Cliffs Notes at Barnes and Noble on how to transition from the person you were pre-parent to you as a parent. Despite the fact that there are ten months of pregnancy that should contribute to the process, the realization that it is for real didn't hit me until the percocet wore off.
The transformation is better likened to two trains attempting to run on the same track in opposite directions and colliding somewhere along the line. And whether you plan a child or do not, I think the collision happens either way. Surprise pregnancy only adds a few box cars to the wreckage.
Upon discovering my pregnancy, I immediately moved forward with a realization that I would be a mom, since I knew I could not have an abortion. And since that time, each and every one of my comfort zones has been blown to pieces. Most of those boxcars did not survive the crash.
I am struggling with the loss of a loved one, the birth of a loved one, the loss of my independence, the loss of geographical closeness to my freinds which in some ways signaled the loss of intimate closeness, new coworkers, new surroundings, distance from my brother and sister, the struggle between my son's father and I, the revealing of a shocking and heartbreaking past family secret, and in all of it I thought the train wreck signaled a death to myself as well.
After careful reflection ,and despite continual struggles with the aforementioned, I am starting to understand that I am still Macie. There are parts of me as a mom that I absolutely love. There are parts of the pre-parent Macie that I love. And merging the two is not going to be easy. When two trains collide, the pieces can be put back together, but it takes time.
As I anticipate my return to work I remember that I, Macie, am a challenge seeker. Complacency has never been listed as a hobby on my life's resume. Finding myself as a mom is becoming no less exciting than any other part of my life was or will be. But there are pieces of all of my past, present and future in the wreckage that I care not to repair. There are some pieces I hoped to repair and realized that there are a limited number of boxcars my engine can carry before I'm moving at a detrimental pace as a person.
Living at home again has been the hardest burden to bear. I am lacking in motherly wisdom as I have not grown into the mother I will be. My mother and I, while we agree on some practices, disagree on many others. I am finding that our similarities are more physical than any others. I am outgoing, blatant, confident, outspoken, opinionated, stubborn, feminine, and adventurous, whereas she is quite the opposite in most areas. Or at least after some of life's trials , she has become the antonyms to who I've become. That is not to say that I was always all of these things, but now I am. And we are running on separate tracks.
I could give several examples, but unless you are interested, I won't bore you with them. Bottom line is this: I feel like I am ready to stand on my own two feet again. I miss my space and my life, which, despite my parents hopes, will never be exactly as they'd imagined it. I will never be the quiet type who keeps her opinions to herself, loves Colorado, and is happy with watching movies and staying in all the time.
C'est la vie.
My main struggle lately has been with myself. I am trying to find pieces of Macie without feeling in cognito as a mom. There is no "Motherhood 101" offered at the local community college or Cliffs Notes at Barnes and Noble on how to transition from the person you were pre-parent to you as a parent. Despite the fact that there are ten months of pregnancy that should contribute to the process, the realization that it is for real didn't hit me until the percocet wore off.
The transformation is better likened to two trains attempting to run on the same track in opposite directions and colliding somewhere along the line. And whether you plan a child or do not, I think the collision happens either way. Surprise pregnancy only adds a few box cars to the wreckage.
Upon discovering my pregnancy, I immediately moved forward with a realization that I would be a mom, since I knew I could not have an abortion. And since that time, each and every one of my comfort zones has been blown to pieces. Most of those boxcars did not survive the crash.
I am struggling with the loss of a loved one, the birth of a loved one, the loss of my independence, the loss of geographical closeness to my freinds which in some ways signaled the loss of intimate closeness, new coworkers, new surroundings, distance from my brother and sister, the struggle between my son's father and I, the revealing of a shocking and heartbreaking past family secret, and in all of it I thought the train wreck signaled a death to myself as well.
After careful reflection ,and despite continual struggles with the aforementioned, I am starting to understand that I am still Macie. There are parts of me as a mom that I absolutely love. There are parts of the pre-parent Macie that I love. And merging the two is not going to be easy. When two trains collide, the pieces can be put back together, but it takes time.
As I anticipate my return to work I remember that I, Macie, am a challenge seeker. Complacency has never been listed as a hobby on my life's resume. Finding myself as a mom is becoming no less exciting than any other part of my life was or will be. But there are pieces of all of my past, present and future in the wreckage that I care not to repair. There are some pieces I hoped to repair and realized that there are a limited number of boxcars my engine can carry before I'm moving at a detrimental pace as a person.
Living at home again has been the hardest burden to bear. I am lacking in motherly wisdom as I have not grown into the mother I will be. My mother and I, while we agree on some practices, disagree on many others. I am finding that our similarities are more physical than any others. I am outgoing, blatant, confident, outspoken, opinionated, stubborn, feminine, and adventurous, whereas she is quite the opposite in most areas. Or at least after some of life's trials , she has become the antonyms to who I've become. That is not to say that I was always all of these things, but now I am. And we are running on separate tracks.
I could give several examples, but unless you are interested, I won't bore you with them. Bottom line is this: I feel like I am ready to stand on my own two feet again. I miss my space and my life, which, despite my parents hopes, will never be exactly as they'd imagined it. I will never be the quiet type who keeps her opinions to herself, loves Colorado, and is happy with watching movies and staying in all the time.
C'est la vie.
Hierarchy of Personalities
Lately I feel like a flake. Well, maybe several flakes. Maybe even one big clusterfuck of flakes.
Most of my blogs have been tied to self-discovery and figuring out who I am as a mom, with occasional frustrations. The problem is that upon becoming a parent, the angel and devil on your shoulder hit the metaphorical boxing ring, and its always a tie (at least for me). I've never been the type to hold back from what I feel, which in turn leads to bloggeria. Sorry.
The bottom line is, my personalities are merging. Macie: The Career Woman. Macie: The Music Lover. Macie: The party girl. Macie: The Mom. I've concluded that motherhood (or parenthood rather) is a step by step process with a hierarchy of "personalities". It goes as such:
Death
Geriatric Insanity
Bipolar merge of personalities
Multiple Personalities/selfishness
I still have a while before I hit geriatric insanity, therefore I will consider myself at risk for personalities appearing at any time, but have narrowed them down to the reappearance of pre-mom Macie, and Macie as a Mom. Someday, with any luck the angel will win. Until then, I figure that it's OK to desire to not be just a "mom" all the time. Thank you to all who've helped me reach that conclusion while reminding me to act responsibly.
In other news, I got a piano. I finally began one of the several novels I had always wanted to write. I picked my guitar back up. I am working again and now have an outlet for my hyper-organizational tendencies. I found my old photographs and fully intend to continue taking and developing pictures. I actually hope to work more with photoshop, I just need a copy of the software since I can't afford it. I've been to the gym. I am indulging in facials and massages. I still shop impulsively. I've been breezing through books, and my vocabulary is increasing exponentially. My typing skills still suck. My old jeans are tight, but they fit (which made me happy because I really don't want to be wearing apple bottoms for the rest of my life). Now I know why "mom" jeans have so much room up top- to cover your "mom" weight. I am a Tetris Master again. I have an incredible son, whose smiles not only melts my heart, but stops the world (my world, anyway).
FYI- No part of motherhood seems to have lessened my attraction to Scott Russo.
I've been thinking some, too. I am curious, what do Santa's do in the off-season? Is there another occupation that requires obese jolliness beside "The Biggest Loser"?
I've also been thinking about antics. Not the Interpol album, (which I like) but antics in general. I continue to indulge in them, and am guilty as charged. Yet, for some reasons, the antics of others grate on my nerves. Lindsay Lohan bounces from Rehab in Vegas to rehab at Betty Ford in Hollywood and the media can't get enough. Here are my future predictions: Britney will end up giving Preston ecstacy instead of Baby Advil and end up in prison. Upon arrival, she and Paris will start a Prison Bible study. Lindsay will crash another car and the world will realize her 30 minutes of fame is 15 more than she deserves just for having a freckled rack. Brad will come to his senses and realize Angelina is a better fling than wife and mother and go back to Jen, whose problems getting pregnant will dominate the tabloids for the rest of 2008. The others, will fall off the tabloid circle and no one will care which Jen is pregnant this month and who signed up for Scientologists of America.
New subject-American Idol: Am I the only person who does not understand how this show is still running? Idiocracy at its finest. That applies to viewers and applicants alike. Overrated: Still Single at 50 Simon's accented egotism. Pretty from the Past Paula Abdul's drama and incessant need to bang half of the top 10. Who is the other guy?
"I know that you would likelike to change me make me softertune your voice like a babyI'm using cautionbet you wanted"~ Cold War Kids
Most of my blogs have been tied to self-discovery and figuring out who I am as a mom, with occasional frustrations. The problem is that upon becoming a parent, the angel and devil on your shoulder hit the metaphorical boxing ring, and its always a tie (at least for me). I've never been the type to hold back from what I feel, which in turn leads to bloggeria. Sorry.
The bottom line is, my personalities are merging. Macie: The Career Woman. Macie: The Music Lover. Macie: The party girl. Macie: The Mom. I've concluded that motherhood (or parenthood rather) is a step by step process with a hierarchy of "personalities". It goes as such:
Death
Geriatric Insanity
Bipolar merge of personalities
Multiple Personalities/selfishness
I still have a while before I hit geriatric insanity, therefore I will consider myself at risk for personalities appearing at any time, but have narrowed them down to the reappearance of pre-mom Macie, and Macie as a Mom. Someday, with any luck the angel will win. Until then, I figure that it's OK to desire to not be just a "mom" all the time. Thank you to all who've helped me reach that conclusion while reminding me to act responsibly.
In other news, I got a piano. I finally began one of the several novels I had always wanted to write. I picked my guitar back up. I am working again and now have an outlet for my hyper-organizational tendencies. I found my old photographs and fully intend to continue taking and developing pictures. I actually hope to work more with photoshop, I just need a copy of the software since I can't afford it. I've been to the gym. I am indulging in facials and massages. I still shop impulsively. I've been breezing through books, and my vocabulary is increasing exponentially. My typing skills still suck. My old jeans are tight, but they fit (which made me happy because I really don't want to be wearing apple bottoms for the rest of my life). Now I know why "mom" jeans have so much room up top- to cover your "mom" weight. I am a Tetris Master again. I have an incredible son, whose smiles not only melts my heart, but stops the world (my world, anyway).
FYI- No part of motherhood seems to have lessened my attraction to Scott Russo.
I've been thinking some, too. I am curious, what do Santa's do in the off-season? Is there another occupation that requires obese jolliness beside "The Biggest Loser"?
I've also been thinking about antics. Not the Interpol album, (which I like) but antics in general. I continue to indulge in them, and am guilty as charged. Yet, for some reasons, the antics of others grate on my nerves. Lindsay Lohan bounces from Rehab in Vegas to rehab at Betty Ford in Hollywood and the media can't get enough. Here are my future predictions: Britney will end up giving Preston ecstacy instead of Baby Advil and end up in prison. Upon arrival, she and Paris will start a Prison Bible study. Lindsay will crash another car and the world will realize her 30 minutes of fame is 15 more than she deserves just for having a freckled rack. Brad will come to his senses and realize Angelina is a better fling than wife and mother and go back to Jen, whose problems getting pregnant will dominate the tabloids for the rest of 2008. The others, will fall off the tabloid circle and no one will care which Jen is pregnant this month and who signed up for Scientologists of America.
New subject-American Idol: Am I the only person who does not understand how this show is still running? Idiocracy at its finest. That applies to viewers and applicants alike. Overrated: Still Single at 50 Simon's accented egotism. Pretty from the Past Paula Abdul's drama and incessant need to bang half of the top 10. Who is the other guy?
"I know that you would likelike to change me make me softertune your voice like a babyI'm using cautionbet you wanted"~ Cold War Kids
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