Lock the door

OMG, I just walked in on a guy in one of our office unisex bathrooms. Lock the door, dude! Unless you wanted me to see that, but were you just lurking there, waiting for a woman to come in??? Strange -- it's just our company on this floor now and he wasn't one of us. Seems we have a freelance pee-er and exhibitionist on the loose. Meh, I wasn't impressed.

Go ahead, make my day

I hate cutesy mugs ... and yet, this speaks to me. Anybody else ballsy enough to?

Friends and family

I've been on the verge of tears most of this weekend, but thankfully, a lot of it was for good stuff. A big group of us threw a surprise birthday party for Pinkie K's 35th, and seeing how truly surprised, excited and touched she was gave me chills. She's the best and we all made it a point of telling her so. Shouldn't everyone be celebrated that way once in awhile? It takes so little and the impact is immense. I won't forget the smile on her face when she came in, saw us, and shouted, "Shut UP!" So cute. Funny what will come out of a person's mouth when they're shocked.

I steeled myself all day to call home and talk to my father. I talked to my brother first to get some courage from him. I admire the way he says some of the things that I can never say to my dad. Conversations between my father and me are few and far between, and generally don't go well. My mom was so excited that I called, I could almost hear her jumping up and down. When he got on the phone, I said, "Happy Father's Day?" It came out so strangled but things went better after that. I told him I loved him and he said the same to me. All I can say is WOW. Just wow.

So I've been thinking about the men in my family. On this father's day, my brother, who wants to be a father so badly, is dealing with the fact that he and his girlfriend recently lost their baby. If there's anyone who will be the most fantastic father, it's him. He's the most kind, loving, sincere guy I know, and I'm so glad I didn't succeed in murdering him when we were 13 and 10. I admire and love him and I know they'll be the proud parents of some lucky, lucky kids some day soon. And my dad and I had a breakthrough. I'm still digesting it. Little did I know when I woke up today how momentous it would be.

Learning to talk

Amazing how bad I can be at something I do everyday. This week, I had two similar miscommunication experiences with two people that I know very well (or think I do) and who know me very well (or think they do). These are people that I listen to carefully, love and desperately want to communicate well with. In both cases, I was misunderstood and I misunderstood them so badly that I'm ashamed and shocked. Have I learned nothing?

There's a technique that therapists often use where one person speaks and the other repeats the thoughts in their own words until the speaker verifies that they've gotten it right. It can take several tries. It sounds strange and feels awkward at first, but it helped clear up this week's messes. I had such a sense of relief then, when I found out that assumptions (you know what they do) were wrong and feelings on both sides were hurt unnecessarily.

Also, they say that 90 percent of communication is non-verbal. It's so true. A touch of the hand, laying my head on their shoulder and a hug took us most of the way there.

Somebody knock me out

When I was in high school, I would write "I (heart) sleep" on my notebooks, along with "I (heart) this boy or that boy." Running from school, to work, to home to watch my sister and brother, to music lessons, to volunteer assignments, to tae kwon do and everything damned thing, I never got enough rest (but my college apps sure did look good). I constantly daydreamed about getting my next chance to sleep and dream for real.

For awhile, I was a champion sleeper, but if I had a Trapper Keeper now, I'd write the same thing I did in high school. I've lost my ZZZZs and I can't find them anywhere. I walk around like a zombie most days after roaming the house like a zombie most of the night. You'd think with all these waking hours, I'd get more done, but sadly, no. My brain races from thought to thought at a dizzying pace, then shuts down -- but not all the way. Medication isn't working and I'm not a big fan of drinking myself to sleep. These types of tricks don't seem to do much. I'm tired of being tired.

Shining light

I have a little friend with me here, a firefly I caught in a jar. Just one. When I was little, my brother and I would catch 40 or 50 a night and run in mad circles around the yard, waving our jars of lightning. In the dark, their little bodies were invisible, and as soon as my eyes fell on one flash of yellow, it would flicker out. It would make me dizzy peering into the jar, as my eyes darted from one flash to the next and the next. Then I would open the jar and put my hand in, so the glow would surround my fingers and their little legs tickled the hair on my hand as they clambered out. There was an article in the paper today about fireflies. They look for love (or lust) with their flashing lights. Only two weeks of flying, glowing, loving, and then they're gone. I feel a bit guilty stealing an hour of my little friend's life away, just to sit with me.

The worst thing

A few years ago, my friends and I were shooting the shit, asking those dumb questions you ask after a few beers. They seem so significant at the time, though, don't they? My turn came up and I was asked, "What was the worst thing you ever did?" The guy who asked me was the last person in the world I'd share a confidence with, much less give the answer to that question. He was much more of an acquaintance than a friend, actually. The rest of the table was full of friends whose good opinions of me I valued. For these reasons, and because that's just not the kind of question it seems prudent to answer under any circumstances, I refused or maybe I made up an obviously false answer, hoping the moment would pass. But in a way, it never did. The moment was strange and awkward enough that it not only stuck in mind, it stayed in others' as well. Even though nobody else was asked that question that night, or any other night, it still comes up -- they want me to answer. They want to know the worst thing I've ever done.

Being made to think of the worst thing I've ever done isn't that comfortable -- surprise, surprise. But since it's become a sort of running joke, that's exactly what happens. Somehow, I never see it coming, but there it is again and again: "What was it? The worst thing?" So the answer stays front of mind, like a big bruise that never heals. At times, it makes me want to scream the answer out for everyone to hear. If I look on the positive side, maybe its constant presence will keep me from doing something even worse.

And what's the answer? It's not a complete secret. There are people who know the worst thing I've ever done. I'm not sure if they realize it or not. It's better that way. People often ask questions that they don't actually want the answers to. The answer is enough of a burden for me to carry -- I wouldn't want anyone else to have to bear even a fraction of it. Besides, we all have our own answer, and it's the heaviest load in the world.

Happy Devil Day

I'm getting a lot of amusement out of hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia -- the name of the fear of the number 666. This date is bringing out the crazies, and I love it. Strangely, it seems to be bringing out the good side of some folks. This lady, who is turning 66 today, AND was 6 lbs. 6 oz. when she was born at 6:00, isn't driving so as to avoid causing any vehicular mishaps. If you're the gambling type, you can bet on whether it's the end of the world (but if it is, remember, you can't take it with you).

I'm wearing my devil T-shirt today. He's a pretty scary devil, but everybody who sees it smiles. Hey, it's all about marketing. The devil's no fool.

You like me, you really, really like me

Lately, it seems I'm never home. I've never had another time in my life when I've received as many invitations to be social as I do now. I'm a private person and an introvert and have usually had a small core group of friends, and that satisfied me. But somehow, I've now amassed this big cast of characters and it just keeps growing. Every day, it's come out with us, go here, go there, have lunch, come over, meet these other folks, take a class with me, go on vacation with us! I've even started double-booking -- doing things like going out to dinner twice in one night with two friends, to keep up.

The ironic part is that I've been in somewhat of a valley, mood-wise, and I question the quality of my company, but I must be wrong because people seem to crave it. Must be someone looking out for me and getting me what I need, because the more time I spend socializing, the less time I have to brood and think those negative thoughts.

Oops, gotta run, somebody's calling me...