Boy, do I have some Tales to Tell...
I believe that change is inevitable. Nothing ever stays the same. I accept it. Something about the status quo is not always so quo. Nonetheless, it doesn't mean that I necessary like what changes. Or agree with it.
Last week, a co-worker announced that he was moving away from New York City. He is going to continue working for the same company but in his hometown. His living situation has, unfortunately, expired. He has decided to take a break and go back home. I am very unhappy to be losing one of the best team members around. I am even more unhappy to be losing someone who makes my work day so much fun. I hate this change.
Last night, I read his
latest blog post. He is quitting. I'm happy that his blog has given him a lot of things. I will miss his sense of humor. He got very introspective toward the end. But, he was still funny. I wish him the best. I hate this change too.
I wish both of them the best. I just hate that with all the changes I accept in life, I have to see them change. Later.
Throughout my entire life, I have always given 110% at work. I've also been very blessed with the opportunity to do things that I enjoy or have enjoyed doing. I have been accused of caring to much about how my work is done. I have been accused of putting up standards or expectations, for myself and my coworkers, that can be very high. I tend to think of those expectations as "doing what you are getting paid to do." Unfortunately, few others share the same thoughts.
I still do give my all when it comes to work. Many times, I have risen through the ranks faster than I should have. I say that because I have also grown tired of working around people who do not strive to be as aggressive as me. In the end, I get fed up with people not striving as hard as I do and I leave. With my current job, I have promised myself not to move up too fast. And I have stuck to it. Unfortunately, I still have those high expectations.
I often ask why people just can't come in and do their work. That's all. Do it to the best and fullest that you can. I don't think it's much to ask. Until recently. I have become much more complacent. Actually, I have become a lot more apathetic. But for now, complacent will be the word I will use to describe me at work. I am sure part of the reason is because I work for someone who doesn't seem to care if any of my teammates work hard or hardly work. So, my thinking has come down to: if he doesn't care, why the hell should I; he gets paid to care. Unfortunately, not only does he seem not to care, he seems to not know what to do to care.
I hate feeling this way because I tend to really care about what I do when I am doing it. I think part of my aging process is understanding what work is: do what is expected of you and do it well. Forty hours a week is a lot of time to spend being mediocre or less; so be productive. But even more than being productive, understand that work is just work. It's not the reason I, or you, exist. It's nothing more than a means to an end. Unfortunately, we need work to get the means we need to get to our end.
And the end is my life at home, with the love of my life, my beloved cat, my dear friends, and my well-being. Fortunately, I am starting to realize that more and more. Later.
A few weeks ago, when it was scarily warm outside, I agreed to be a "model" for a friend. She wanted to take some shots of my "body parts in motion." She said that she was going to rent some studio space to do the shoot. I said I would do it. I told her that I was fine wearing short shorts and a sleeveless tee so that she could get as much skin as she needed. Then she said, "Oh, we can do it in the Park, if it's still nice out."
Well, folks... it's supposed to be this coming Saturday. It's no longer "nice" out. At least, no longer nice for short shorts and a sleeveless tee. As a matter of fact, this Saturday is more of a parka and corduroy pants kinda day. She still wants to do it. She even reminded twice yesterday. I mentioned the not-shorts-friendly weather that was approaching. She said, "Oh, you'll have some clothes on."
So, here is the dilemma. I know I told her I would do it. It is a favor. But, I don't want to do it out in the cold. I also think she wants to avoid renting studio space because money is tight for her. Which I understand. But it's going to snow this weekend. I think I will speak to her and ask her to either move the date or rent studio space. I know she is doing some other shots for some other people. But that is not really my dilemma. I just don't want to freeze and get sick.
Am I wrong? Later.
In less than 17 hours, I will be 37 years-old. I was born at 11:00pm. The same exact time that the Biafran War ended. My mother woke up the next morning to bells ringing in the streets of Lagos, Nigeria. She said that her most distinct memory of the birth was the fact that nurses kept coming in to tell her that the war had ended when she gave birth. Apparently, I was a sign of peace. Irony.
I still don't know what I want for my birthday. I still don't want anything. But I did get something I didn't really expect to get yesterday. I got a root canal. Actually, it was more of a partial root canal. I have to go back to finish it in two weeks because I have to "heal" before they continue. Then, I have to heal again for about a month before I go back to get a crown for the tooth. I'm actually fine with it all since this tooth has been chipped forever and I want to have it whole again. I consider it a birthday present for myself. I know, I'm bizarre.
The root canal itself wasn't bad. The endodontist was cute. He was very friendly. Plus he took this metal thing that had a thin rubber sheet stretched over it and used it to keep my mouth open. Kinky. It took all of 30 minutes. It took me longer to get to his office.
I am looking forward to going back and getting the entire procedure over with. Then, I can go back to my dentist and get the crown. And have the whole tooth again. And not have to constantly floss to remove food stuck in the chipped area. Or is it that I just want that rubber-covered metal-thing stretching my mouth to kingdom-come? Hmmmmm.
Tonight, Mike asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I hugged him and told him that I have everything I want. He hugged me back and said, "No, really. What do you want for your birthday?"
I couldn't think of anything. We were planning on going out for dinner but I resisted making any reservations because there was a chance of him having to go out of town on a last minute business trip. I don't really have any "thing" that I really want. Or need.
I suggested going out to a local restaurant for some really good Italian food. But even as I type this, I am not really set on doing that... even if the restaurant is in my building. I suggested ordering in from a local cuban restaurant that makes some of the best crackling chicken and mofongo that I have ever tasted. We probably wiill but I am not really that commited to it.
A friend took me out for dinner tonight. We had a great time just talking and laughing. Maybe that's what I really want for my birthday: to spend time with my close loved ones, one at a time. I will be working the closing shift on my birthday, so most of the celebrations I will be doing are either before or after.
Honestly, I am not looking to do anything boisterous or anything that requires preparation of any sort. I kinda want it to just happen like it did tonight: E. coming to meet me at the store to take me out to dinner. It's been years since I remember going out with a bunch of people to celebrate my birthday. I can't remember the last time. Honestly, I can't.
I do remember years of wanting material things. Followed by years of wanting to be taken out dancing. After that, years of wanting to be treated to some crazy expensive elegant dinners. And now, all I can think of doing is sitting at home, in my pajamas, eating fried chicken with mofongo and yellow rice. With my husband smiling by my side.
Maybe that's what I want: laughter and smiles from the people around me. Because at 37, seeing the people around you laughing and smiling is the best thing in the entire world. Later.
Call me a pessimist but all this unusually warm weather does not bode well for any of us. Yeah, you can run outside and play sports or have a picnic or wear shorts. But all that enjoyment is so temporary. Mike asked me if I wanted to go for a walk on the piers after class. I declined because after teaching two classes and working out, I am not really in the mood for a long walk. Even if it is with my husband. His reasoning was that when were we going to get another day like this. I said, "June."
So, what happens now? Snow in May? Yeah, the warm weather is nice for us but what about the trees that are budding? What happens when a cold spell arrives and literally nips them? No worries, just keep driving your cars and using all the energy you need. It is infinite after all. No? Plus who needs trees when you can run outside in shorts and enjoy the... brown?
This all scares me because I actually do care about our planet. I could say that I won't be here when it begins to fall apart. Well, folks... what the hell do you think this is? And worst of it all, very few give a crap about this planet.
At work today, some young, white girl asked me why we don't carry Bounty anymore. I told her that the company has decided to only carry recycled paper products. She rolled her eyes, gave a sigh of irritation, and stormed off. Those white girls. It's so hard being them. Not that other young girls of other ethnicities are better. Most of the black girls that I work with couldn't even understand what global warming is. And, for the yellow girl who could not understand what the increase in oil prices had to do with the increase in grocery prices, thanks for debunking the myth about Asians being smart. Nice. Very nice.
I'd say that as a planet, we are fucked. But then again, why bother saving it when it's only populated by idiots like the ones above. Later.
This past Friday night at work, my co-worker Lee and I were chatting. Lee asked me what I was doing on Saturday. I told him that my husband and I were planning on seeing Dreamgirls. At this point, a cashier team member was doing some shopping in the same aisle we were working in. She was a young, black girl. She turned to me and said, "Oh, I saw that." Lee asked her, "So, what did you think?" She said, "Oh, it was good but there was a lot of singing." Oh, the irony.
Anyway, I went to see Dreamgirls today. Jennifer Hudson is the new owner of "And I am Telling You." Yeah, Jennifer Holiday owned it for a while. Nope. Not anymore. Ms. Hudson just took the song and owned it. It was such a moment in time. I cried. My husband teared up. He said he felt the pain. There were white people in the theatre cheering and talking to the screen during the song. It was that good. I would go again just for that song. Later.
It's a good thing that I have a full-time job.
Because, if I didn't, I would be parked on my couch, eating everything in my fridge, watching the mega-marathon of America's Next Top Model on VH1.
All seven cycles. Back to back.
It's a good thing.
2 oz. Cranberry Juice
2 oz. Black Currant Vodka
juice of half a lime
Pour ingredients into a shaker with ice. Shake vigorously. Pour into martini glass. Enjoy.
Just as a warning: having four of the above drinks in 30 minutes can be quite interesting. Later.