The cat stood at the door. She asked to go out, or I assumed she did from her meowing. I opened the door. She walked away. I’m not playing this game. The door is now open. She doesn’t realize that the cold doesn’t bother me. For a brief moment I reveled in the thought that the cat does not understand Vampires. Then she jumped on the table and bit my hand. She was purring. I do not understand her game. I hate cats.
My neighbor took me to a Kings Game. He told me that I was to dress casual and to wear purple if I had it. I wore a purple dress shirt with a black tie and black slacks. The ladies had to rub my arm and smile. Women are so forward now. They said I looked gorgeous.
The following ramblings (in her own words) were submitted by Juliette, from VampireMaman and WestCoastReview, while she was thinking through some unedited thoughts and memories. We here at STMND think her ramblings are well worth reading through, appreciating, learning from, and spreading across the blogosphere.
I often see special needs teens when I pick up my daughter at school. I always tell her how different it was when I was growing up. The special kids I see now are fashionably dressed, usually have great hair and are walking along like all the other teens.
So what are my experiences from the deep dark past?
My family has so many skeletons in the closet that it is starting to look like the famous scene in the Marx Brother Movie “Night at the Opera”. You know the one where people keep coming into a teeny tiny little room and eventually…
Photo taken by (and used with permission from) my son Sevrin at his high school sailing team practice.
As I write this, there are seven teens asleep in my basement. My son and his friends came back from their high school dance in high spirits last night. Laughing and joking loudly, they boisterously descended on my kitchen, devouring everything within reach (even some chips that I thought I had hidden pretty well). These guys were the human equivalent of an invading colony of army ants, foraging insatiably through my refrigerator.
Now these boy-men are dead to the world, asleep in a puppy pile on my basement floor. And I have to be honest – I am loving every single thing about these teens. In fifteen plus years of parenthood, I have grown accustomed to – perhaps, in some ways, inured to – the many and diverse aspects of wonder in…
The only reason I started listening to their conversation was because I thought they were talking about Russian royalty. As I stood in line to check out my groceries, two women in front of me were talking about someone named Anastasia. Since it was the title to one of my favorite Ingrid Bergman films, my ears perked up upon hearing that name. I quickly realized they were not talking about the movie so I lost interest in their conversation. Some time shortly after I was in a store and while in the shoe department I heard some people nearby talking about Anastasia and Christian. What were the chances I would hear the name Anastasia twice in one week? It was not long before I kept hearing about these two individuals everywhere I went, from the office to the health club to any retail establishment; it was unreal how many people…
My Aunt Priscilla died almost 20 years ago. She had a vibrance that captured anyone within her radius. Her middle name was Apollonia, but let’s just keep that among us, shall we?
To me, she was always fearless, or appeared to be, and I told her. She assured me she wasn’t. An example she shared was how the bedrooms and bathroom were divided by a parlor. No biggie, right? Wrong. The parlor was used for viewings and wakes when relatives died. She recounted how one night, when she was a toddler, she had to pee. The idea of walking past the corpse terrified her so much that she contemplated wetting the bed. She decided against it, and crept past the body.
Her family expected her to become a nun. She tried, but convent life wasn’t for her. Instead, she moved to New York City, much to the chagrin of her…
Today is the first Monday in 30 years I’ve been without a job, otherwise known as unemployed. Last Thursday I, along with about a dozen of my coworkers, were told our jobs were eliminated due to the fact the company we worked for isn’t making any money. Lay-offs. I was there for 15 years. So here I am now, at home, my first day of not being employed by anyone. It is sort of weird.
In order to stay on track (and stay sane) I’ve made a list of things to do while I’m unemployed.
File for unemployment insurance. Check. Did that already.
Look for work. I spent three hours looking this morning.
Keep a notebook with all of the job site passwords, user names and all things related.
Update resume. Tomorrow. Today it is too painful.
Clean the house. Not sure if I’ll get to that one.
Act like a stay at home mom. HA HA HA HA. Like I’m going to do THAT. Seriously so much of my identity has been identifying with the title “working mom.” I’m an amazing MOM and corporate type professional. Yes, I own suits and heels. I’d rather work in jeans but…I can do anything.
Get the mail.
Notice that the crowd in the grocery store is different in the morning than it is after work. The most fun are the late night around midnight shoppers.
Turn the sound up on the radio.
Think about going to the gym. GO TO THE GYM.
Avoid the kitchen.
Fill the bird feeder.
Make a huge cut out of a foot and make Sasquatch tracks on the trail in the woods behind my house.
Dance because NOBODY is looking.
Clean out my car.
Think about what I really want to do with my life.
Stretch in the middle of the day.
Network. Contact everyone.
Try something new.
Think about how great I am and what wonderful skills and talents I have.
Take a deep breath.
Make up more bad puns to annoy my husband.
Have lunch with my husband.
Hang out with my husband during the day. He owns his own business so I can show up with the dog anytime I want and even give him a kiss.
Figure out a few interview outfits.
Clean my closet.
Buy cat food.
Pick my daughter up from school on Monday. I’ve worked all of her 15 years so the only day I’ve ever been able to pick her up is Friday.
Learn to roller skate. There is an adult class on Tuesday mornings. I’d be safer sky diving or swimming with sharks but hey, I like to live dangerously.
Get up every single morning by 6:30. Stay on a schedule. Don’t just sit around.
Blog. (which is writing but a different kind of writing)
Finish my novel because there is a spot waiting for it on top of the best seller list.
Apply for jobs even if it is a trip-to-Mars long shot.
Don’t be afraid of people thinking I’m strange or different.
If I question anything the answer is always “go for it.”
The other answer is, “yes.”
Smile. A lot.
Don’t sell myself short.
Get enough sleep.
Put stuff on ebay.
Develop my own reality TV show.
Become a YouTube star.
Call NPR and tell them I want a job. I have a lot to say and know a lot of interesting people and things. I also have a great radio voice.
Dance some more.
Pet the dog.
Pet the cats.
Look up old boyfriends on the internet. HA HA HA just kidding, I did that years ago.
Have faith in myself and my God given abilities. I’m not a religious person but I have untapped talents that need to be used – NOW – or I might get struck by lightning.
When I first met Rara from Rarasaur.wordpress.com, I was so jealous.
Here was a blogger who just started blogging before I did, and she was already Freshly Pressed with a truck load of active followers. Then whenever I toured the blogosphere, her icon appeared everywhere–in the comment sections, in guest-posts, in awards of every shape and color, and in “favorite blogger” posts. Who was this person?
Then I met Rara. First, I participated in her International Label Day. She emailed me and we started a conversation. This lead to an interview with her. Then she designed the logo for Bloggers for Peace for FREE. Then she made peace cat images for FREE. Then she helped edit an ebook that I was working on for FREE.
Peace Cat Rara did for FREE
You get the picture. Rara is one generous, loving, compassionate person. I love her, her family…