Tree.....sigh.

Christmas is coming, as I previously posted.
I must obtain tree.
Sigh.
I had a tree, infact it was still up Jan 20th, when my apartment burnt down. There were even still gifts underneath.
So this tree... new tree... cannot be real. Too much drama, pine needles and all. Pre-lit is probably the way to go......I wonder, as to whether they offer fire-proof models...?
I've decided that this has to be the best tree ever. Unique, and beautifully dressed. A personification of its owner..... perhaps.
Passing by the Victoris Secret window, I saw a pale powder pink tree, with fucia lights- "hmm", I thought, as I stood infront of the large window ........ no..... I couldn't do that to poor Brian. He might launch it off the balcony. I don't need a personification of me launched off the balcony.
I stumbled upon the upside down Christmas Tree- yep, I blame Bush (HA!) What ever is the world coming to? Do we really try and come up with stupid-er ideas every year? Isn't the point to have a huge base of your tree...... so Santa will have to bring lots of presents to fill it up?
I really feel like I have to make this Christmas the best and most memorable, probably has a lot to do with how much of me wants to forget last year.
When I find her..... you can bet I'll post a pic.
Until then-sleep sounds nice.

BTW. I have my car back. Just until the second wave of parts come in.......Oh Saabbi, how I've missed you. It's been quite dificult to even attempt to warm up my voice while sitting in the passanger seat of Brian's car.... while he drives me in..... almost half asleep. :)

PS- I was joking about the damn pink tree. Shock value..... thats all..... I am not one of those..... honest. As for the upside down tree- Santa, sure as hell, isn't getting off that easy.

Epiphany

I am convinced that we've become hollowed out shells of the people we were meant to become.

We live our lives in this "lather, rinse, repeat" format completely void of emotional contact with our fellow man. Rather than walking along side one another, we pass eachother by, and rather than kind words, harsh expressions are exchanged.

It's horribly sad. At least it makes me sad. I think about all of the people I did not know, and will not know, and want to know. That is lonliness-the kind we create.

I'm convinced that we will grow old, but that wisdom will only come of regret in our lives. I'm sorrry for all those people I lost and left behind, and the lesson has been learned-but I could have learned so much more. It's sad.

I've been carless this week. An entire week. Brian's been great enough to drive me to work and home (since our desks are about 100 feet apart) and I just wasted away in the apartment on my day off. I felt so confined, it was rather depressing.

Kristin, "Red" a girl I work with asked about my car today, she said

"Listen, if you need a ride anywhere, let me know. I'll come get you."

I smiled at her and shook my head, "You know I wouldn't ask-but thank you anyway."

"Seriously" she sternly said, "I know you've done it for other people, I know you would do it for me. Please give me the opportunity to do it for you."

In the moment- it was just kind words. Upon reviewing, I realized, that I had fallen away from that person, who would do anything for anyone who needed to be helped. Kristin gets to be my angel of the week-reminding me not to lose touch, and offering heself. Thanks, hun.

I don't want to become the hollowed out shell, of the person I was, or am supposed to be. I want to extend past peoples noses and into their hearts and allow them into mine. I don't want to let people pass me by, nor do I want to be passed by. I may just be one person, but I was convinced hope was lost, until just one person, reminded me it's still there.

The Elephants

I live in a 3 flat building. Second floor. I love my apartment. I love my roommate. I love my neighbors below.
I ABSOLUTELEY HATE THE ELEPHANTS WHO LIVE UPSTAIRS.
Granted. No one is perfect. A family spat on occasion, where arguments escalade into fights, falling to tripping……
These people make a habit of making an ungodly amount of noise, and at the most inappropriate times. Let me give you a glimpse into what we get to deal with, and why the nickname “Elephants” fits.
1) Vacuuming after midnight. Not one room (cleaning up a spill is understandable)
2) Running through the apartment…… all day, all night. Pounding their feet as they run….. Sometimes they even dribble a ball.
3) Bright and early in the morning, screaming fights about waking up.
4) Obsession with playing video games with the volume at full power and stomping your feet when you are not winning.
5)Locking each other out of the apartment, waking everyone up with screaming and pounding on the outside doors.
6) The Ogre is getting some. (We believe he must be paying for it- but that's another story) Brian has the master bedroom, he spends a couple nights a month on the couch because of the wonderful noises he hears.
There is more.
We made a call once…. But realized that it held no positive bearing on the tenants above. These people will ruin movies…… ruin moments…..wake you up…and keep you from sleeping. Did I mention they look like ogres….. Not the Shrek kind…… the hideous mutation type. Gross.
And the worst part……. The lack-there-of of opportunities to retaliate.
Wish me luck in falling asleep.
(cue the vacuum)
-Meg

Calander

On October 2 of this year, I watched my Grandmothers Calico cat "Six-toe" give birth to 3 kittens. The 1st one out was the dark orange one. I named him Calender.
You can laugh.
Here's the reasoning behind the name.
1) I was at my Grandmothers house to bury her 16year old cat which had died the day before. We didn't even know that "Six-toe" was pregnant. The cat was on my grandmothers lap and began to have contractions. I watched as Calendar was born. My grandmother commented about the cycle of life. One dies, one is born. In this case, 3 were born.
2) Calendar was born with 7 toes on each paw. One for each day of the week. It really seemed appropiate. Besides- names like "fluffy" or "kitty" don't really appeal to me.
If you enlarge the photo to your right, you can actually see his paw, and the 7 toes on it. He's so adorable.

I have about 2 more weeks to wait until I can bring him home. I'm excited. It'll be nice to have a man to come home to :)

Christmas is Coming

Christmas is coming.
Those over-dramatic, whimsically social individuals with an abundance of access time on their hands have sprinkled their homes with lights and religious paraphernalia. Mind you, it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.
I seem to relish the thought that the holiday season is an entire month (longer for some) which truly brings out the worst in people. It escalades just before the holiday hits, angst toward our fellow man, a disregard for others feelings, and the pompous promenade of dollar amounts in place of genuine love or affection. It’s the time in a child’s life, when he/she learns to associate material possessions with how much their parents ’love’ them.
Ironically, the holiday season is one of religious connotation, though the meaning gets lost in the lies we tell our children. A celebration of key individuals in the belief structure of one’s perceived religion, be it a biblical birth, or eight nights of light, it gets traded in for a fat man in a red suit, who has a sweatshop fill of midgets and dwarfs, as well as magical flying reindeer. Hmm…
We try to teach our children proper lessons,
“Don’t talk to strangers”- but if a man shimmies down your chimney and offers you a package….. that’s another story. We spend so much money on shrinks and therapy trying to understand why our youth is so misdirected and confused, we’re the ones lying to them, we teach them that it’s okay to tell white lies from a very, very young age.
Christmas is coming.
It’s the one time of the year where being in a broken home can be construed as a ‘plus’. Coming from a divorced family, the holiday season was a battlefield for the ‘favor’ of the children. It really had nothing to do with us, most of the time, it was a battle between our parents as to who could out-do the other. We enjoyed multiple gifts, but the sheer exhaustion and emotional capacity overload left our mouths dry. Santa had no part. What they never seemed to understand is that children are not supposed to love one parent more than the other-trying to provoke such thoughts is one of the worst things you can do.
It’s also the one time of the year, when we all pretend to get along. We ice over the deep-seeded issues to feast and open gifts, but once the children are off to bed (or the Egg-Nog Special takes effect) it’s all out on the table. You need the time off from work and school to recover from the emotional exhaustion of the family gatherings.
Christmas is coming.
Black Friday is upon us. Even if I thought it were possible to prepare myself for the rush of potential buyers and the bountiful questions they’ll have to offer, I’ve come to the conclusion, I would merely be lying to myself. Black Friday is the most revered day in the Retail industry. Not even the cold winter morning can sway the mobs from standing outside the doors of local retail chains hours before opening, or prevent the overflow of people in the isles and over packed parking lots. It is, notoriously, the worst day of the year to be a cashier or sales representative. All positive thoughts will fall to ash and ember by the time you escape.
To top it all off, you can’t even use the facilities without being reminded of the holiday bloodbath outside the doors. Holiday music is everywhere, and it bears no mercy.
I hate to be so blatantly negative towards the holidays, I do enjoy the company of my friends and family. I have this great fear, however, that as the meaning of the holiday season gets further removed, there is only more room for anger, greed and disassociation among our fellow man. Lie to your children, illuminate your homes, sing a few carols and don’t forget to buy your families love-especially at Black Friday’s prices.
Okay, that was a bit harsh. I’m looking forward to my Christmas, with the people I love and care most about. It’s a month away, I’ll warm up to the idea a bit. What other choice do I have?

In & Out

In the back of my mind, a dark shadow grows over, like a weed in a garden a-bloom. Cast as clear as day, this light, once cast iron strong, now florescent fading-scarce to start when switched on. Fork. Here, in the road, here, not ahead. Here. Silver, long and convincing of promise in each direction, but it all stems from the sheen. Not real silver- painted on like smiles. Social butterflies birthed into tomorrow's whores. Let us throw them in a box and set the knob for 2 hours time (not actual) and come back when they are clean, and free of the baggage claimed yesterday. Blind them with this bright- florescent light which is whiter, when we can get the bulb to work (the switch is opperational). Tonight holds the company of strangers, fingers and faces, lips and service. We'll have to put them away again, hide them again. Send them into the dark to come out clean again, to shine again, close enough to perfect. More misdirection, and not an inclination of pull. I'm weary of the thought, that I've been in and out of my mind, and my Kitchen for so long, that the garden is overgrown with weeds. In the back of my mind, I plant an idea, and hope there enought light to grow it.
-Meg
Confusion and disapointment hound throughs and mislead. I think it'll make sense in the morning. Perhaps not.

Devious..... yes.

I took some time to explain some of the 'madness' generally associated with women to my dear Brian. This sums it up quite appropriately:
Brian: "Why do women have to find something, anything wrong, or even not wrong, and make it out to be the worst possible thing, and it's usually not, even if it's not they just bring up something almost slightly related and dwell on that.....I don't get it, it doesn't make sense"
Meg: "We get bored-when we get bored we have to stir up something, and typically, we'll ask you to make a decision as to which is more important to you, us, or your presented habit. Its a ploy to make you say what we want to hear. Women aren't nuts, we just maniacal and devious. We know what we want, we just conjure the most cynical ploys to deliver it."
Brian: "So every little fight over nothing..... that dies once it's over..... it's just a plot to make us tell you how beautiful and important to us you are....... tell you how much we love you and all that crap?"
Meg: "Yea. Great, isn't it?"

Well, at least I think it's hilarious. It's fun to watch. I'll admit. I've done it on ocasion. Just to stir things up a little. Harmless. I swear.
I still firmly believe that most women are nuts. Chemically inbalanced, devious in a masochistic sense-corrupt and confused. It's their choice, notoriously pride driven, they must make a statement with their decision- hence, I believe, this is why they choose to over-react, instead of maintain balance. People pay attention to crazy, the normal ones fade into the backdrop.
We're all human.
I just can't help but laugh, though. Women are born with this nautral ability to manipulate...... like they say, if you've got it, flaunt it.
Enough out of me tonight.
Maybe not.
Meg

One Sweet Day

*Music has been written*

I don't want to think of you
Every time I hear that song
It would be better, I just forget
I don't want to feel your presence
Walking into an empty room
With a hope-you felt something yet

I don't want to be the one who tells you
I don't want to be the first to say
So I'll sit here, for Eternity- if need be
Waiting on that one sweet day

I don't want to spend my nights
Tossing in an empty bed
Dreaming you were by my side
I don't want to hear your voice
Standing in a crowded street
Searching strangers faces, for your eyes

But I don't want to be the one to tell you
No I don't want to be the first to say
So I'll sit here, for Eternity if need be
Waiting on that one sweet day.

I don't want to fumble for words
I don't want to hide myself
I shouldn't waste myself on you
I don't want to feel afraid
I just want to scream aloud
But only if I'm sure it's true

So I'm not going to be the one who tells you
I don't have to be the one to say
I'll just sit here, for Eternity if need be
Waiting on that one sweet day
I'll just sit here- for eternity if need be
Waiting on that one sweet day

You don't get to pick- you don't get to chose. Life is this jigsaw puzzle, even the pieces which look like they're a perfect fit- aren't always what they seem. Here's to the one sweet day when we find the perfect fit.
Still dreaming-
Meg

Me, Myself and Misdirection

I headed home after dinner. We were on the phone and you were in the city, at a bar in Wrigleyville. Just a few blocks north of were I had spent my previous evening.
I drove all the way home before I allowed myself to realize that I had driven the last 30 minutes in the wrong direction.
So there I was infront of my apartment. I didn't bother to get out of the car. I turned around and drove downtown. Parked a block or so north of the bar. Met you inside.
You see-I wasn't where I wanted to be, until I was there with you.
- Meg

Longwinded Weeks and My Sob (Saab) Story

Between our Private Sale , and the assumed conversion to a new internal computer system at work, I kept my distance from any computer outside of the office. Private sale was hectic- as always. Imagine being a sardine in a tin can-that's about how it felt on the sales floor. We had all our salesmen working (about 250) as well as representatives from each of the manufacturers we carry, and customers from far and wide in for the thrice a year sale. It was all talk, 9hours straight. It's the one sale you always leave needing, not just wanting, a drink.

We had quite a night at Chasers after the sale. I was there from about 7pm till midnight. Simmone and I- nice and tipsy, danced the night away in the company of about 45-50 of our fellow co-workers.
(Thank you Amaretto Stone Sours and Washington Apple shots)
That was the weekend of the 6th. Things didn't slow down from there.

I signed up to become a 'Super User' for the new system we were supposedly scheduled to launch today, which wasn't launched. It cost me quite a few hours and a boat load of patience, as I taught those who didn't wish to be taught, and those who came very close to being un-teachable. I spent many a night at the store until midnight, and even worked a 14 hour shift on my day off, to further attempt to acclimate our staff to the new system. The launch date has been put off until January, due to an accounting error which would not allow our store to balance properly. I'm glad for the extension, this holiday season is hard enough without the added stress of a conversion. Sigh.

All the training I did landed me a very horse throat, which became a cold. I figured all the stress would pass with the extension and I even left work early on Friday, with intentions of a dinner at Kampi (my favorite) to some how make it up to myself. Good intentions-horrible outcome.

MY SAAB STORY

Saabbi (my car) was towed, after her alternater belt snapped and took a pulley from the relay system with it. Yup. I took my car, which was squeeling (sounded like a squirrel with it's tail caught in a blender) to the Sears autocenter about 100 meters away. They turned me away saying that they couldn't help me, pointed me across the street and said "Good Luck"

Luck didn't last, with alternator belt gone, all I had was the juice in my battery, 1st thing to go was power steering. I made it to the other side of the parking lot, then phoned in a favor. That was about 6pm on Friday. Tow truck came about...... oh yeah......9pm.

To top that all off. Tow truck driver wore a sweatshirt that said "fire" on the back..... and "Hoffman Estates Fire Department" on the front.

He remembered my apartment's demise very well. Cruel Fate-always messing with you.

For those of you close to me, you know I have the hardest time asking for help. Even something as simple as a ride, I always feel like I'm imposing or being a bother. Not having my car is really forcing me to face this aspect of myself head on. Thanks Brian and John.

That sums up this weekend. I miss my car!

Attack of the Salmon

For the longest time I've joked about being bulimic. Making crass and completey random comments about the perils of vommiting after consumption of any caloric quantity.
Today, I learned to better understand the actual hardships of being bulimic, thanks to my mom. (At least that was the last thing I ate)
It all began on Friday night, dinner at Mom's to keep me from going out (big weekend at work). She made Salmon, one of my favorite foods, along with pan fried garlic noodles.... (I hope you know- just describing the food is making me nausiated) I ate everything which was loaded on my plate and went home.
Brian and I rented 'House of Wax', durring which I got to see Paris Hilton with a Steak through her skull- Yay! However, I was unable to enjoy the movie, as I felt nausiated throughtout. Being the open individual I am, I let my roomate know everytime I vomitted a little in my mouth.
Gross.
So I didn't eat anything else that night, consumed water and went to bed with a tummy-ache.
2am.
I wake up, cold sweat......make a run for the bathroom..... and oh yeah. Salmon.
Everything came out. I brushed my teeth- back to bed.
No sleep. 30 minute intervals between dry heaving. Went to work after my stomach and esophagus stopped convulsing (noonish) then vowed to never eat my mothers Salmon again. I had the honor of looking like I had a night on the town.... and was paying for it today. No such luck. All day I consumed the following: Water-which was awful- cause that wonderful taste from the morning lingers, Sprite- to settle a stomach-but sent cold chills through my ravished body so I moved on to: Hot tea..... not very filling, but warm. I had a bag of pretzels and a crunchy granola bar...... nothing else.
After work, I came home. Slept from 7:30 till midnight.
Here I am. I still don't have any intention of consuming anything solid. My stomach is flipping me the bird.
And I'm pondering why we don't give these girls a little bit more credit. They do this after every meal. Wow. Kudos to you.
Not for me.
Back to bed.
Good night.
Meg

November Slump (Blah)

As november emerges from Octobers final hangover, the light fades durring the day, and it's that much harder to be pleasant. We're amid out 'Private Sale' at Abt, (which is not nearly as exciting as a corrupt mind may think it) so hours are long- phones are always ringing and the level of stress elevates to that boiling point throughout the ranks. The last phone call I delt with was, flat out, unbelievable.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with my carreer- I handle Corporate Sales at Abt Electronics. We have some very wonderful customers and clientel, and today I was lucky enough to meet a sexist pig. My being a woman was unsatisfactory-the customer demanded a salesMAN assist him with questions concerning the contrast ratio and resolution of a particular television set. "Believe me, I don't expect you to have the answer, women don't understand electronics-"
I was patient, kind and maintained my professionalism, but only on the outside. There were words, I promise, and just because he didn't hear them does mean I didn't mean them......
To top that off, a sales meeting, keeping me an hour longer than expected. I left, needing a drink, chose, however, to go home and 'relax'. Here's the trouble with that word; it's a vague idea.
For some strange reason, the long and strenuous butification process gets categorized as a method of relaxation. See below:
I'm smiling initially- the thought of flawless and smooth skin.... then the masque stars to dry....and you can't touch it..... but it feels so weird that you scrunch your face muscles with all your might in hopes of alevaiting some of the awkward tension between skin and facial application.
Then you come to realize.... the beautification process has not hindered the negative ora around you at all- but has instead made you even more irritated, and posed the question; why the hell did you just put yourself through that?

See (to the right) Me, not ecstatic, not amused, not any more beautiful either. Infact, I took the time to re-examine what I had put myself though, and decided, in that matter of fact way, never to do it again. Ahh, it's just my mood. I'm snapping my fingers now, and I'll be smiling again.

I ate some junk food. Amazing how great cookies taste after Mac'N'Cheeze. Damn Straight. I'm headed for the Freeze-Pops next.

Bet you thought I was kidding. I love these things-even in the dead cold of winter!

My appologies, long and seemingly pointless blog. I'll call it my 'Blah'

I'm going to go make love to Joe Crede in my dreams, after a write a song or two to aggrivate our neighbors..... who are currently vacuuming, at midnight. UNBELIEVABLE!
Remember- beautification in not relaxation, it's simply frustration and the culmination of things stupid that women do. Yuck.
Blah-night
-Meg

You'll Be Gone

It's near midnight here in Chicago, and I have the apartment to myself. I havent written- it was time. I'm sure the neighbors don't appreciate it, but it feels so good to pour my heart out-head to toe. Here's my new song:

You'll Be Gone
I'll dismiss you like a bad dream
You'll go back to meaning nothing
But restless sleep
I'll erase you from my memories
Leaving those moments empty
To fill with other things

And I'll go on with out you
I'll forget all about you
And you'll be gone
You'll be gone

I'll drown you in apostrophes (new poetry)
All about some obscurietes (catastrophies)
Bearing no name
I'll throw away everything we used to own
Prove to myself that I've out grown
You and your petty games

And I'll go on without you
I'll forget all about you
And you'll be gone,
You'll be gone

I'll douse old photographs in kerosene
Re-write all the 'could have beens'
As though you never were
I'll pretend I had never met you
Then I won't have to regret you
Or ever have known (or loved) you at all

I'll go on without you
I'll forget all about you
And you'll be gone
You'll be gone,
I'll go on without you
Forget all about you
And sing this song,
You'll be gone, you'll be gone

It's got this robust piano behind it, which allows me some freedom vocally and it creschendos to this climax where I realize exactly what I've done, and undone by doing so. It then decreschendos to the realization, (final chorus). I'm turning the piano off. Oh the perils of love and how the hearts holds tight to remnants of past encounters..... and how dull they are in true light, night posses far too bold a contrast dark-and all we see is bright white exclamation points-sharper than expected come dawn.
Good night-
Meg

Flinstones.... Meet the Flinstones

You know.... I think she did this just to prove that she's better at Sewing than me. Here's Courtney, or should I say Wilma...... Here's my proof... see those demon eyes....that match the hair..... oh yeah...... she's just being perfect....... perfectly devious!

Courtney, like I said, is great at everything she does. Including last minute costume fabrication. She did Ed's and herself up- and a damn good job I might ad. Love ya Hun.

Insincerely Lost

Somewhere... the thought of me lingers like fog. Thick and yet mildly transparent. The furthest thought from your heart, I promise.
I may be cast aside at the moment, but your shoulder bears me, halo and horns. I made an impression, and it's permanant-like final goodbyes. The real ones.
Is it not so easy to drop the idea? I was a mere pawn you played, willing to be taken, and you set a glorified trap.
Love.
You used a four letter word to knock me down and what a show.
You are an amazing actor-though you have lost yourself, at least a little. The trouble with insincerety is how easliy you reach the point of not knowing what you feel and what you don't-
Which is why your number flashes across the face of my phone.
No-longer titled-but I recognize, ' forgive, never forget.'
You are struggling with the adaptation of my role. It doesn't fitthe way you intended.
My interpretation of the words and actions followed a completely different script, blank pages which were filled by beats and genuine laughter. Nothing makes sense now. The second guessing reins....you'll wrestle fragmented ideas or emotions....
You're less than I remember you to be. You can't hide behind brute strength- your confusion steals the color and we only catch hints of internal struggle, somewhere beyond your empty eyes.
You may have said good-bye, or it may have been another line. You can't decide anymore.
When the fog lifts- it will be clear, that love once denied was more sincere than the glorified personification of pawns and places, and the faces you have turned your back on.
Wear me like a burden, I have shed you in oceans of tears.
This is permanent-final goodbye. A real one.
I'll never pick up.