Travelling

Morning was fine, Camille was fine. Fortunately, I did not have to deal with my evil boss because I left before she got to work. All the clients and Camille shouted "Have fun!!" when I came to say goodbye, dripping bags off me. Very sweet.

And then off to the "Travel Day". Really, if you're flying anywhere more than four hours, you have to schedule one day at the beginning and day at the end of your actual vacation just to devote to travel. Blearg.

I had been talking with Marty about how to get to and from the San Francisco airport, since we're trying to save money and all that. And finally we just sort of said, you know, we've got the money, why am I even thinking of struggling with BART with all my bags in order to save $15? It seemed a little ridiculous so I just got the SuperShuttle, the famous blue van. In all the years I've lived here, it's only gone up from $15 to $18. And what's even better is you can pay online AND include a tip on your card. Very nice. AND a nice driver comes and picks you up at your door, my workplace in this case, and takes you right to the Delta curb.

I chatted in a friendly fashion with the driver. Practicing my mad social skillz, you know. I asked him about how the whole business of being a SuperShuttle driver worked and how was the current gas crunch working. Less people flying, less people needing the service, higher gas prices, main company takes a franchise fee, etc. Blah. I had originally said I'd rather drive people around than my job at the current moment (really only my boss and the notes right now make me hate my job). Bitch. But I think I would get a bit bored driving around all the time. I want a job I can sit and read or play on the computer all day long... Once another passenger got into the van, that strange sort of silence settled into place. The guy, while living in the weird suburb cities south of San Francisco, had a monster hummer type gas guzzler in the driveway. But off to the airport we went in the awkward yet somehow companionable silence.

You still have to take your shoes off at the security checkpoint which always annoys me, not just for the reason of the silliness of it, but partly because I always forget to wear shoes that are very easy to remove. My sneakers have some sort of rocket science lace up style and take some doing to get on and off.

Plus, apparently, you cannot bring water through with you. I had a small bottle in my bag and they told me I would need to pour it out and fill it up on the other side. So I chugged 16 ounces standing in line and put the bottle back in my bag. I'm not much of a pee-er, I can drink a bunch of water and not really go to the bathroom very often during the day. But after doing this, I had to pee just about every 20 minutes for two hours. Great. But in any case, I found my gate and ensconced myself there, minus the whole peeing bit. Which sucks when you have to lug your luggage with you to the bathroom.

I called Marty on my cell and we talked about Airports. To me, there is a sort of melancholy feel to airports, with an undercurrent of excitement. Marty and I decided that it was the Bardo Realm for travelers. One is neither at home, nor at one's desired destination but you kind of have to be there. Plus it's a mixing pot of every sort of available human type on the Earth. Black, white, brown, olive, pink, etc, all shapes and sizes and all sorts of doings that humans do, swirling around each, ie cell phones, laptops, mates to snuggle with, book reading.

I felt a little alone sitting in the airport, talking on my hunk of metal and plastic, hearing my husband's voice so far and yet so geographically near, watching a few couples snuggle and giggle with each other whilst awaiting their plane.

Our plane was a little late coming in from Atlanta but I wasn't too concerned since I had a two hour layover there anyway. Flying is so boring and difficult since you're sort of frozen in one position. But I had an exit row. But unfortunately the exit row that has the bulkhead right in front of you. No space to put your bags and such. But I mostly just slept.

Then in Atlanta. I've been in Atlanta many times as it is a popular layover hub for Delta. So it was familiar. I wandered around for a bit. Taking in the southern accents and the cute southern boys. Corn fed, I guess they call it. Although in my experience, cute but not so much nice.

So it might have been nostalgic, being there, but not, not really, I suddenly wanted to go home. Especially, for some reason, when I saw the Chic-fil-a and Krystal Burger shops. Yuck. Even I did have to have some Krystal Burger for old time's sake and well, yuck.

Then off to Louisville, Kentucky where my mom picked me up and drove me back to Lexington, Kentucky. Long travel day, just to go 3000 hours. Well, I guess it's better than weeks or months in covered wagon drawn by horses.

Notes From Hell

Bitchy COC is making me re-write two of my weeklies. So I have three weeklies, one monthly and one utilization review and all the ridiculous daily notes. In my horrible supervision, I had mentioned that I was not going to be able to do it all in one day and my actual job (being with people).

So she hires a third person to come in and do the milieu work. Another co-worker of mine who works day shifts during the week. So there are three of us there and guess what we were all doing? NOTES!!! They both had weeklies and monthlies to do as well.

I did my own notes from 12:30pm to around 5:00am. Brilliant. And so stupid. But I'm leaving for a week, thank the gods.

Marty's Shrinking Family Reunion

Marty and I went up to his Incredible Shrinking Family Reunion this year. There weren't as much people there as usual. In my experience, it has been a sizeable gathering.

Maybe it had something to do with the pool being out of commission and a normal hot Sacramento day. Or maybe it had something to do with half of California being on fire and pouring nastiness into the air.

Or maybe it's just one of those things that waxes and wanes with time. These summer jams have been going on for quite some time as I understand.

Although small, it was quite nice. I like talking with Marty's parents and his cousins, especially Tamsen who is near my age. Plus there's always good snacky foods and chickens. Well, not to snack on, but Marty's Aunt's family has chickens, rabbits and dogs.

You know if there are dogs, Marty will be happy.

All in all, a nice little gathering.

COC Wins This Round

I had "supervision" this morning with the fucking crazy ass cunt, bitch on high, Her Majesty.

She was so evil, one thing after another that I had done "wrong", including my "speeding" on Wednesday. Did I call that one or what.

She gave me this hugely long memo with one point after another and my supervision sheet had all boxes checked off as "unsatisfactory".

I was so pissed and upset, I couldn't help it, I started crying and through that, struggling to tell her that I wanted appreciation for my good work. Response, "Well, when you improve, I'll give you appreciation." I mean, what did I do from that last two weeks where I got all satisfactories? I didn't change a damn thing.

I went home in tears. Fortunately Marty stepped up to the plate and was very good about the whole. I'm sure he's getting tired of this. He even said, "You should quit right now."

I guess I would if I were done with this whole thing but I feel I have a hell of a lot to learn yet. All those new weapons and such.

We'll see who takes next round, bitch.

The Drudgery Keeps....

Going on and on and on.....

It was the usual crap. The daily notes took me from 11pm to 3am to write. Bah.

Speed Racer

Nope, sorry, not a blog about the movie Speed Racer, which I did not deign to see.

But apparently Speed Racer is ME! Yes, I go forth at reckless speeds with the company van, endangering all in my path, including my passengers. At 70 miles an hour.

I was driving my co-workers down to the new four hour trainings and The Boss had left at the same time. I drove The Tank, otherwise named by a resident The Chalupa, a large 12-passenger van that gets 9 miles a gallon, the same way I always drive the stupid thing, my co-workers chatting amiably in the back. I took 280 as always, a fairly major highway, while a little less traveled than Highway 101, still a fairway for Californians, who lets face it, do not drive slow. I was going 70 miles an hour, which was right with traffic. I've always gone 70 miles an hour, whether in the van, in the truck, in the car, or on my scooter. Because that's what the traffic travels at. I think I hit 75 a couple of times to pass.

Well, apparently, COC was "clocking me" at 77 and when we got to the training, Camile came over to me and just gently reminded me that COC was in a tizzy about the speed. Camille is good about that stuff. I told Camille exactly as described above and reported that I would drive home at 65 (the actual posted speed limit). And I told her, "I bet you that I will about this again from her." Camille shook her head and said, no, that Camille had told COC she (Camille) would take care of the "reprimanding". But I'd still bet money.

Also, don't you have to be going 77 to be able to "clock" someone at that speed? Just a thought....

So You Think You Can Dance

I'm not one for "Reality TV" shows but there are a couple that I get into, usually for psychological interest + a dash of voyeurism.

But a real dance show... Not that stupid "Dancing With The Stars" or whatever crap, but what seems to be something like a dance competition. That I can hang with.

Hundreds and hundreds of people audition for this thing and only 10 women and 10 men are chosen to be on the final show. And these guys are amazing. They get paired up and America votes on their favorite pair and later, the individual dancers. Those in danger of being eliminated dance solo and the judges choose to keep them. Later, when America is voting for individuals, not even the judges can change that result.

You can tell when a couple "hits" it. I get goose bumps. I've seen some amazing technical dancers so far and they're good. Really good. But if I were watching live, I wouldn't vote for them unless I got goosebumps. To me, dancing isn't really about the technique although of course that adds to it, but it's more about Energy. And dancers who have that ability to "bring it" are instantly recognizable. Usually by the goosebumps and complete entrancement of the viewer. Can't look away. You know someone's really, really good when you can't look away and your goosebumps are so prevalent they're painful.

So I have been avidly devouring the show, online unfortunately since I can't seem to figure out when it comes on and be able to call in to vote on my favorite dancers.

I was watching at one point and suddenly the Question came to me: At the end, what would I regret in my life. Mind you, this is probably a more common question than it should be, considering my struggles with whether or not to finish my hours. So I thought about my hours and realized that if I didn't finish, I would not regret it. It surprised me a little bit, but not much. But then I realized that I would have one major regret and that would be that I never danced.

Watching these amazing and supposedly amateur dancers just brought it all up, that regret, tight in my stomach like lead. But with a tiny pricking of hope. Perhaps.....

Zippy Gets Accessories

Our financial program is going pretty damn well, We went from 38 years of debt payback to about 2 years, all within one year. Woot!!

We went out today and got a new radio for "Zippy" with iPod connection and all that jazz.

Zippy got Bling!!

What Kind of Sauce?

It was a crazy, crazy night, just mostly with residents disappearing and needing to call the police and what not.

I was thinking of how to "fight" Anne on my break, a walk to the grocery store. I figured I could enter meetings with a slightly wolfish grin and figure out how to wolfishly eat her. So, maybe I could sit there contemplating what kinds of sauces she might taste good barbecued with, such as lemon butter or different styles of BBQ sauces.

Well, if nothing else, the thought greatly amuses me.

Nice Day in SF

It was a very nice day in the city today. Marty and I braved Ocean Beach today, which has been reported to not be for beginner surfers but it didn't seem so bad other than a strong current pull to the north and it was hard to keep from getting push up shore. The nice part of it being such a warm day was that I didn't even need my undershirt with the hoodie. Although it was a bit colder but my head was fine. At the end I was pretty exhausted even with my nice new, but tight fins.

Then off to a picnic with James and Robin and Benjamin who was a bit fretty but very cute as usual. He used a finger on each of my hands to balance himself and totter around happily. He kept trying to roll down the hill. Well, I don't think that was his intent but that was the almost result. I kept having to grab him and hold him up. But lords, is he cute!

So, overall it was a very nice day. A rarity for a San Francisco summer.

Arch Rivals

Well, COC is back, unfortunately and the stress just arose as if from no where, considering that great week we had had. Ah well.

Of course, The Bitch had A Bitch about my doing Poi with the resident. Well, not that I did Poi with the resident but that I hadn't done it in the "MI" (Motivational Interviewing) way, meaning that she didn't like how I did it, and thusly took exception to that. Never mind that it WORKED. Never mind that the two favorite guys, for an intervention, told the client to try shouting and cursing and they got high praise but when I ask a client to set aside their Critic for a moment, I get slammed. I was pissed. Bitch.

Then off to my Rosen session, where, yet again, I talked about COC and how much I can't stand her. But it turned out to be an interesting session. Well, they always are. Steuart said to me, "You know, it seems to me that there is something else going
on under all this. If you were to strip the meat away from all this, what would be left?".

Suddenly the image came to me of two male warriors in ancient Japanese style armor with spears, striving fiercely against each other.

Now, I do believe in past lives. I believe we meet people who have any sort of importance, positive or negative, in our lives, over and over again. One life you could be bitter enemies, one life dear lovers, one life some configuration of family. I believe the type of connection does change from life to life. Marty and I could be Mother (him) and son (me), next time.

But with this image, I had the feeling that my crazy boss and I have always been rivals of some kind. And the images that followed were flashes of us, usually male, striving against each other in various old forms of armor, wielding various forms of weapons. All forms physical combat. But fairly equal. If I "won" one day, then she the next.

My gods, I can't tell you how much I want to tell that bitch to "Step outside" at times. I could fuck that fat cunt up like no one's business. As "pitiful" as I am, I could break her in half.

And apparently, that is how I am used to dealing with her. But the balance of power has been shifted. She is my "superior" in my job and due to her woundings and how she gathers things around her, she has the skills to fight in a different manner than our usual physical bustle. In this case, the pen IS mightier than the sword.

So it is a case for me, of learning new sorts of weapons. I am going to learn how to be as savvy as she is with the politics. I'm going to have to learn to be "smarter" than her, which should be fairly easy since she is a one trick pony. But I really do suck at these sort of politics.

Gaghhh. I hate this sort of stuff. I'd rather just hit her in the mouth.

Speaking of hitting, we saw the new The Incredible Hulk with Edward Norton this evening and it was good, passable. Norton is always very cute. The King Kong copy bit with them on the cliff in the rain was a bit dumb, but what can you do. Overall, a good "popcorn" movie as Marty calls them.

While the Cat Is Away

COC is gone for the week, coming back tomorrow. And lo, we didn't have a single incident report the entire week. No one went to the hospital, no freak outs, no AWOLs. Hmm. Ahem, excuse me, but is someone looking at this!! Damnit, look at us now!!

So it was very quiet and peaceful, excepting the Spy Bitch Secretary, who kept trying to ingratiate herself with everyone now that her uber big boss is gone. And none of us were having it, pretty much. Polite with her but not falling for her tricks either.

I went out and did poi with one of our extremely anxious clients and, asking her to set aside her self-deprecations for the moment, taught her a little bit about Flow. It's funny, when I'm Spinning, and I make a mistake, I am able laugh gently at myself, unwind my Poi from around my wrists and start back up again. I don't seem able to do that in my regular life when I'm irritated at myself for various things. But in Poi, when you attack yourself, the Flow literally stops and you can't Spin. At least I can't. And neither could she do any of the basic movements until she did as I asked and stopped asking "Am I doing this right or wrong? Is this right or wrong?" And then, even in her hands, which had never touched a Poi before, it Flowed around in a circle. And the client, amazingly enough was calm for the rest of the day.

The mice will play!!!

Something Wicked This Way Comes

3:20am

Ever had that sense that something in the air just feels wrong? You're not even sure what. You don't have a sense of anxiety or fear, just a vague feeling of "something quite not right". I couldn't sleep so got up and wandered around the house and then finally ended up here.

Later:

I went to gym and did my regular Anteloping. As I fired up the bike to head home, I noticed a car down the street, parked on the side of the street at the intersection. It looked like it had a window broken into. This is a common occurrence. But as I pulled up right next to it at the red light, I realized that it had been completely trashed, vandalized. All side windows, the back window and the sun roof were all smashed in. There were spider cracks in the front windshield where it looked some someone had tried to smash that as well. Two young Asian men (maybe late high school, early college age) were standing there, at a loss, staring at it. One opened the driver door, the owner I assume, and more glass shattered down to the already massive pile collected on the street. Three other young men, not associated with the two, looked on with vaguely bemused looks, that "Dude, that suuucks." sort of look while at the same time a strange sort of smile passes the glazed eyes. Then you wonder if they had something to do with it or just don't know how to handle what they feel about it.

I personally felt really bad for them. And the car. I'm not a Christian. I don't believe in Heaven or Hell. But if Hell existed, there would a very special place cordoned off for people who do stuff just like that.

Asian Signage Strikes Again

Apparently found in a public toilet in Seoul, Korea.



Mmmmkaaaay.