At my former gig, I was ingrained in the midst of some very astute, forward-thinking individuals. We worked "beyond well" together.
It was wonderful.
I was untouchable.
I loved it.
I was finally getting those ever-elusive dangling carrots – AKA bonuses!
I was told to ride this ‘wave’ for as long as I could.
That was the plan.
It was short-lived.
Fast forward to my current gig. I received a thank you card and check from them.
A BONUS check.
Correction – a SWEET BONUS CHECK for my "hard word and dedication throughout the year." Funny, I haven't even been there a year yet.
Impressive.
It took some mystery solving skills to figure out the “WHO” (as in “WHO” said to give me the bonus, and yes, I should be more concerned with they “WHY”), but I think it is safe to say, I’m in good graces once again…
And this time…
I plan to stay there.
Whatever it takes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Faith is believing that one of two things will happen,
That there will be something solid for you to stand on
Or
That you will be taught to fly.”
~Unknown
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The Dance
(Written by Jeff; Posted by Kellie)
My movie. I wish to write one. It will be about love, about my wife, about us, and what two soul mates do to enrich one another’s life. It will be a true story, not fiction in any way at all; love is never fictitious or blinded. It will be beautiful, because she is beautiful. Like I said, beauty and the truth.
She is beautiful. I have a special song I play and let the words wander through my mind as I sit and listen to it over and over. The words are extremely powerful, enlightening, and they let us know we are beautiful. Trying hard to fill the emptiness, the puzzle undone. She is beautiful. Words will never bring her down. Nor will her MS. I hate it. Its here. I can’t get rid of it. But the sun shines on her. It beams on us both. The sun will always shine.
I have played this one scene through my mind continuously. It has us dancing in the shadows of one another. Yet the shadows become one, not two. They meld together, not like oil and water. The sun is behind us coming through the windows. It is a very large room we are in, old, stately. We are alone, just together with our smiles aiming at each other. The problem is, neither one of can dance. Dance Lessons.
I grew up never seeing my father perform, he must have been quite good at his craft, and he was known as The Little Shadow. He emulated his partner. Side by side they stepped, never out of rhythm, always in stride for stride. Needless to say, I did not inherit this marvelous form of expressing oneself. I can’t dance. Yet this scene won’t leave my mind. It constantly runs, never stops, it repeats itself over and again. I want to dance with my wife. I want to lead, have her flow across the floor, never out of step, shadows as one. It is painful, I am ashamed, and I can’t teach her. Dance Lessons.
This brings me down; it deeply saddens me and torments me to no end. I’m consumed with this. It has become a passion. Fred and Ginger, Kelly and O’Connor. Jeff and Jennifer. It wont beat me; I have a mission to whisk her all over that hardwood floor, the sun always shining on us. I have to teach her, I can’t go on without living out this dream of us cascading in stride, smiling, laughing, and being in love. No crutches, no chair, no scooter, no canes, just four legs mimicking one another’s movements and flow. Words won’t be spoken, perhaps just a few laughs, and the room echoes with just smiles as if they were mirror images of one another. This day, this sunny afternoon, no one has MS, there are no mentions of it, its gone, and it has left us just for this one special day.
I wonder to myself sometimes if this is all just a mere dream. I’m delirious, so consumed in all of this. Trying hard to fill the emptiness, the voids are painful. Can this be in my grasp? Can I truly teach her how to dance? I have a plan - a drawing in my head, a vision in my eyes. My father was not only a good dancer, he was an engineer. I won’t design any steel mills for the world; however, I did learn a thing or two from him. And with the mindless ingenuity I possess, I can do this. Dance Lessons. It is in my power for I am her Angel. If I truly have earned these elusive wings, I must put my plan into action.
If we are to assume I am an Angel, as she claims often that I am, then it is imperative that we shall have our afternoon. But, you can’t always get what you want and it is not having what you want, but wanting what you have. I have more than any human being should be allowed to have; yet I yearn for more. As I sit and think about it, it is not for me, it is for Jennifer. I want for her. I want her to fly. I believe she can fly. I believe she can. I have to see it, hold it, and make it tangible. It is just a belief; I have this quest to witness this. Thoughts don’t complete what I want for her, it has to be in the palm of my hand to realize it is true.
I will always stand by her; I wont let anyone hurt her. She is the light in front of me that lets me travel down the streets with no names. I guess what that means is that wherever I go, she is there with me, regardless of where it happens to be that I am. I can’t shake her image from my mind. She is in me forever. I love her and will always and forever stand by her. Standing is easy; it’s this damn dance that has me puzzled. Enter my father.
I was not there the day my father passed away. I was not there to tell him all the things I had to say. They say you can listen as well as you hear. Today, at this time in my life, I know I listened to him. His echo is in my tears. Ten years have now passed since he left for Heaven. I miss him terribly every damn day. His departure from this earth left a void, yet an impact in my life. It is his wisdom and intelligence that will get me to the dance floor. Dance Lessons, Duct Tape.
I wear motorcycle boots because I ride a Harley. Funny, they are engineering boots. Coincidence; no. Fate; yes.
I have devised an idea using my boots, Jennifer’s shoes and duct tape. I take my boots off, place her shoes over top of them, and duct tape the shit out of them. Slipping my boots back on, I stand, smile, take her into my arms, and let nature take its course. This is how I shall dance with my wife. No matter what we do, no matter what we say, the sun shall shine on us. We are beautiful, no matter what they say, and words wont bring us down, not today.
Maybe I didn't love youQuite as often as I could haveMaybe I didn't treat youQuite as good as I should haveIf I made you feel second best I'm sorry I was blind. I am no longer blind. My shame is over. You are always, and forever, on my mind. I will teach you, I will lead you.
Let’s dance.
My movie. I wish to write one. It will be about love, about my wife, about us, and what two soul mates do to enrich one another’s life. It will be a true story, not fiction in any way at all; love is never fictitious or blinded. It will be beautiful, because she is beautiful. Like I said, beauty and the truth.
She is beautiful. I have a special song I play and let the words wander through my mind as I sit and listen to it over and over. The words are extremely powerful, enlightening, and they let us know we are beautiful. Trying hard to fill the emptiness, the puzzle undone. She is beautiful. Words will never bring her down. Nor will her MS. I hate it. Its here. I can’t get rid of it. But the sun shines on her. It beams on us both. The sun will always shine.
I have played this one scene through my mind continuously. It has us dancing in the shadows of one another. Yet the shadows become one, not two. They meld together, not like oil and water. The sun is behind us coming through the windows. It is a very large room we are in, old, stately. We are alone, just together with our smiles aiming at each other. The problem is, neither one of can dance. Dance Lessons.
I grew up never seeing my father perform, he must have been quite good at his craft, and he was known as The Little Shadow. He emulated his partner. Side by side they stepped, never out of rhythm, always in stride for stride. Needless to say, I did not inherit this marvelous form of expressing oneself. I can’t dance. Yet this scene won’t leave my mind. It constantly runs, never stops, it repeats itself over and again. I want to dance with my wife. I want to lead, have her flow across the floor, never out of step, shadows as one. It is painful, I am ashamed, and I can’t teach her. Dance Lessons.
This brings me down; it deeply saddens me and torments me to no end. I’m consumed with this. It has become a passion. Fred and Ginger, Kelly and O’Connor. Jeff and Jennifer. It wont beat me; I have a mission to whisk her all over that hardwood floor, the sun always shining on us. I have to teach her, I can’t go on without living out this dream of us cascading in stride, smiling, laughing, and being in love. No crutches, no chair, no scooter, no canes, just four legs mimicking one another’s movements and flow. Words won’t be spoken, perhaps just a few laughs, and the room echoes with just smiles as if they were mirror images of one another. This day, this sunny afternoon, no one has MS, there are no mentions of it, its gone, and it has left us just for this one special day.
I wonder to myself sometimes if this is all just a mere dream. I’m delirious, so consumed in all of this. Trying hard to fill the emptiness, the voids are painful. Can this be in my grasp? Can I truly teach her how to dance? I have a plan - a drawing in my head, a vision in my eyes. My father was not only a good dancer, he was an engineer. I won’t design any steel mills for the world; however, I did learn a thing or two from him. And with the mindless ingenuity I possess, I can do this. Dance Lessons. It is in my power for I am her Angel. If I truly have earned these elusive wings, I must put my plan into action.
If we are to assume I am an Angel, as she claims often that I am, then it is imperative that we shall have our afternoon. But, you can’t always get what you want and it is not having what you want, but wanting what you have. I have more than any human being should be allowed to have; yet I yearn for more. As I sit and think about it, it is not for me, it is for Jennifer. I want for her. I want her to fly. I believe she can fly. I believe she can. I have to see it, hold it, and make it tangible. It is just a belief; I have this quest to witness this. Thoughts don’t complete what I want for her, it has to be in the palm of my hand to realize it is true.
I will always stand by her; I wont let anyone hurt her. She is the light in front of me that lets me travel down the streets with no names. I guess what that means is that wherever I go, she is there with me, regardless of where it happens to be that I am. I can’t shake her image from my mind. She is in me forever. I love her and will always and forever stand by her. Standing is easy; it’s this damn dance that has me puzzled. Enter my father.
I was not there the day my father passed away. I was not there to tell him all the things I had to say. They say you can listen as well as you hear. Today, at this time in my life, I know I listened to him. His echo is in my tears. Ten years have now passed since he left for Heaven. I miss him terribly every damn day. His departure from this earth left a void, yet an impact in my life. It is his wisdom and intelligence that will get me to the dance floor. Dance Lessons, Duct Tape.
I wear motorcycle boots because I ride a Harley. Funny, they are engineering boots. Coincidence; no. Fate; yes.
I have devised an idea using my boots, Jennifer’s shoes and duct tape. I take my boots off, place her shoes over top of them, and duct tape the shit out of them. Slipping my boots back on, I stand, smile, take her into my arms, and let nature take its course. This is how I shall dance with my wife. No matter what we do, no matter what we say, the sun shall shine on us. We are beautiful, no matter what they say, and words wont bring us down, not today.
Maybe I didn't love youQuite as often as I could haveMaybe I didn't treat youQuite as good as I should haveIf I made you feel second best I'm sorry I was blind. I am no longer blind. My shame is over. You are always, and forever, on my mind. I will teach you, I will lead you.
Let’s dance.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Friend and Art Festivals = Summer Fun
One of my favorite things to do in the summer is hit as many art festivals as possible. June seems to be the perfect month for that.
It started a couple weeks ago in Little Italy. It was hot (90+ degrees – no exaggeration), windy as hell (my hair had seen better days), but also a very fun time. I was fortunate enough to find my red coral Buddha (which I passed up a couple years ago – but not this time) at Xen Gallery. Cool place. Another treasure, a very unique silver metal star, twisted at each point, with a jewel in the center, was purchased at Juma Gallery. This is probably my favorite place. Dinner at Valerio’s with a bottle of Pinot Grigio was excellent. Big thanks to my friends for that perfect night – we laughed a lot during dinner and we all needed that more than anything else.
This weekend was the annual art festival at Crocker Park. They blocked off the main thoroughfare so each side of the street was lined with tents for each artist. There were approximately130 artisans. Though rain threatened the day, not once did we need our umbrellas. Even more surprising, considering the forecast, temperatures were quite manageable and rather pleasant. The event began at 10:00 AM and we arrived at 9:30 AM - because we are smart and - we wanted "first dibs" - on anything and everything that caught our eye! We were able to walk the thoroughfare immediately. It wasn’t crowded at all – barely any patrons so early in the morning. (And this is just another reason why it's good to be a rule breaker in the land of rule makers!) By the time we left, both patronage and temperatures were heating up.
The artisans had many treasures to sell. Everything from jewelry, leather goods, mixed media, pottery and glass art to paintings, photographs, metal and whimsical pieces for home and garden. Though to many to mention by name, my favorite by far would be Glass Designs by David and Susan of Bay Village. I was at their kiosk for quite some time talking to the artist. He signed each piece I purchased. My little piece of art, “so the legend goes, helps channel positive energy (chi), good health and good fortune into the room.” We’ll see! I bought one for home and work - you can never have enough CHI!
I should have purchased the kaleidoscope too – it was over-the-edge cool. Their card says they specialize in flowers, kaleidoscopes and panels. The artist was also personable and had a few fun stories to share. No website listed so I’m thinking “ROAD TRIP!”
This weekend I’m taking a much-needed day off work to catch up with an amazing friend I made while working at the former gig. And I’ll be sharing lots of stories about the new gig – over wine! Soon after, we’ll be well on our way to do major damage at Standing Rock Gallery and Don Drumm’s Studio. I can’t wait.
Is it sickening to say I’ve already purchased some Christmas presents at these events?
______________________________________
Cool quote for today:
If you do things well, do them better. Be daring, be first, be daring, be just
- Anita Roddick
It started a couple weeks ago in Little Italy. It was hot (90+ degrees – no exaggeration), windy as hell (my hair had seen better days), but also a very fun time. I was fortunate enough to find my red coral Buddha (which I passed up a couple years ago – but not this time) at Xen Gallery. Cool place. Another treasure, a very unique silver metal star, twisted at each point, with a jewel in the center, was purchased at Juma Gallery. This is probably my favorite place. Dinner at Valerio’s with a bottle of Pinot Grigio was excellent. Big thanks to my friends for that perfect night – we laughed a lot during dinner and we all needed that more than anything else.
This weekend was the annual art festival at Crocker Park. They blocked off the main thoroughfare so each side of the street was lined with tents for each artist. There were approximately130 artisans. Though rain threatened the day, not once did we need our umbrellas. Even more surprising, considering the forecast, temperatures were quite manageable and rather pleasant. The event began at 10:00 AM and we arrived at 9:30 AM - because we are smart and - we wanted "first dibs" - on anything and everything that caught our eye! We were able to walk the thoroughfare immediately. It wasn’t crowded at all – barely any patrons so early in the morning. (And this is just another reason why it's good to be a rule breaker in the land of rule makers!) By the time we left, both patronage and temperatures were heating up.
The artisans had many treasures to sell. Everything from jewelry, leather goods, mixed media, pottery and glass art to paintings, photographs, metal and whimsical pieces for home and garden. Though to many to mention by name, my favorite by far would be Glass Designs by David and Susan of Bay Village. I was at their kiosk for quite some time talking to the artist. He signed each piece I purchased. My little piece of art, “so the legend goes, helps channel positive energy (chi), good health and good fortune into the room.” We’ll see! I bought one for home and work - you can never have enough CHI!
I should have purchased the kaleidoscope too – it was over-the-edge cool. Their card says they specialize in flowers, kaleidoscopes and panels. The artist was also personable and had a few fun stories to share. No website listed so I’m thinking “ROAD TRIP!”
This weekend I’m taking a much-needed day off work to catch up with an amazing friend I made while working at the former gig. And I’ll be sharing lots of stories about the new gig – over wine! Soon after, we’ll be well on our way to do major damage at Standing Rock Gallery and Don Drumm’s Studio. I can’t wait.
Is it sickening to say I’ve already purchased some Christmas presents at these events?
______________________________________
Cool quote for today:
If you do things well, do them better. Be daring, be first, be daring, be just
- Anita Roddick
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
More Thoughts On Counting
(Written by Hennessy...posted by Kellie):
We take count of everything. Compiling data, events, making recordings and entries to demonstrate and evaluate. There is a census taking in this country, and even throughout the world. Our quest for knowledge is a daily mission. Counting, statistics, tabulations and so on become materials for which to head into the future. I want to head into that future, and I have as of late become a statistic. I am not sure just how I feel about that, but I have no choice now.
Counting and measuring and adding and subtracting give us that essential bottom line figure we seek. But what is it? And what does it mean? You have a count, it's scrutinized, and then its placed in equations. What does it equate to? That means nothing to me now, but I am being counted. I am now a person with a bad heart. A statistic. Just a number. Not even a name anymore, merely a number for scientists to work with. I am an age, a birth date, a social security number and a male in his midlife who has heart troubles. I just want to be me again, doesn’t that count for something?
I wrote before (though not in blog form) about being scared. It has consumed me, due to the fact I over react, fantasize and do not rationalize. I freak out! Right now, that is what is happening with my mind and my thoughts. I tend to overlook generalness and jump right into the glass is half empty, or even totally empty, signifying defeat. I guess I do this as if it were looked at the other way, but in the end is chaos ... I have not set myself up for failure, I am already there. Not a good thing, not at all.
I am scared. I am also greedy and I want to know immediately what is wrong. I hate waiting. It’s not fair. If my time is taken up, then so should everyone else’s and I should get my answers immediately. Sadly, it does not work this way. So I sit and wait.
I remember vividly being a child, and having to go to the doctor to get a flu shot. We went as a family, after work, in the Buick no doubt, and back in the 60’s, we all got the same needle, a glass one, and got stuck with it. Not me, nope, not me. I hid under a table and then kicked the doctor in the shin. The beginning of my hatred for medicine. It is no wonder I don’t like to go. These days, you kick someone, you go to jail. I don’t have time for that. I suppose I have to keep my mouth shut and play nice.
I told myself to do this, so I have no one to blame for any thing but me. I have taken the necessary steps in getting help, something no one in my family ever did. Why didn't they ever seek help? I know, they were too busy enjoying life and did not want to be a statistic. Ironically, they are now, as they have all passed on. The worst stat of all.
A very wise woman said:
You live longer once you realize that any time spent being unhappy is wasted.
If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.
If it is to be, then it is up to me
We compile numbers and data for various reasons. Please Lord; let me be one of those that live. Give me strength and wisdom, help me through this. I want to live; I am on that bridge, asking to live. It is a wonderful life, and I am counting on trying to go far into it.
That is what I want to count; Life.
We take count of everything. Compiling data, events, making recordings and entries to demonstrate and evaluate. There is a census taking in this country, and even throughout the world. Our quest for knowledge is a daily mission. Counting, statistics, tabulations and so on become materials for which to head into the future. I want to head into that future, and I have as of late become a statistic. I am not sure just how I feel about that, but I have no choice now.
Counting and measuring and adding and subtracting give us that essential bottom line figure we seek. But what is it? And what does it mean? You have a count, it's scrutinized, and then its placed in equations. What does it equate to? That means nothing to me now, but I am being counted. I am now a person with a bad heart. A statistic. Just a number. Not even a name anymore, merely a number for scientists to work with. I am an age, a birth date, a social security number and a male in his midlife who has heart troubles. I just want to be me again, doesn’t that count for something?
I wrote before (though not in blog form) about being scared. It has consumed me, due to the fact I over react, fantasize and do not rationalize. I freak out! Right now, that is what is happening with my mind and my thoughts. I tend to overlook generalness and jump right into the glass is half empty, or even totally empty, signifying defeat. I guess I do this as if it were looked at the other way, but in the end is chaos ... I have not set myself up for failure, I am already there. Not a good thing, not at all.
I am scared. I am also greedy and I want to know immediately what is wrong. I hate waiting. It’s not fair. If my time is taken up, then so should everyone else’s and I should get my answers immediately. Sadly, it does not work this way. So I sit and wait.
I remember vividly being a child, and having to go to the doctor to get a flu shot. We went as a family, after work, in the Buick no doubt, and back in the 60’s, we all got the same needle, a glass one, and got stuck with it. Not me, nope, not me. I hid under a table and then kicked the doctor in the shin. The beginning of my hatred for medicine. It is no wonder I don’t like to go. These days, you kick someone, you go to jail. I don’t have time for that. I suppose I have to keep my mouth shut and play nice.
I told myself to do this, so I have no one to blame for any thing but me. I have taken the necessary steps in getting help, something no one in my family ever did. Why didn't they ever seek help? I know, they were too busy enjoying life and did not want to be a statistic. Ironically, they are now, as they have all passed on. The worst stat of all.
A very wise woman said:
You live longer once you realize that any time spent being unhappy is wasted.
If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.
If it is to be, then it is up to me
We compile numbers and data for various reasons. Please Lord; let me be one of those that live. Give me strength and wisdom, help me through this. I want to live; I am on that bridge, asking to live. It is a wonderful life, and I am counting on trying to go far into it.
That is what I want to count; Life.
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