Gathering Moss

Transition.

Are you a lover of that word? Transition.

From thesaurus.com
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: change, often major
Synonyms: alteration, changeover, conversion, development, evolution, flux, growth, metamorphosis, metastasis, passage, passing, progress, progression, realignment, shift, transformation, transit, transmutation, turn, turning point, upheaval
Antonyms: beginning, conclusion, end, finish, introduction, sameness, stagnation, start

Do you love what it might mean? Mean for you? Mean in general? Mean for propulsion? Your propulsion?

I'm not alluding to any major change. Not truly. But of course yes, yes a bit. Change.

Because if you're not moving and changing, you're still. And being still could mean you're stuck. I know this isn't good. I know because I'm a veteran of being stuck. Therefore I've become very very good at kicking my own ass. You know, to get it moving.

I make that effort mostly because it's my nature. I make that effort because I do care to improve. I make that effort because change is not comfortable for me and I need to challenge that portion of me always or I'd just be at home with those I love and never venture out. Although, remarkably, I've done many many things in my past and those that know me may have thought, "Oh! That took some balls." Maybe they thought that.

So hallelujah! Thank goodness that something pushes me. It might be me. It might be circumstance. It might be desire. It might be necessity. Yes! Yes, and yes is my favorite word.

Our little Calvin. Sleep peacefully forever now little dude. Smooches and I will miss your annoying ass. 

Extremism

Some of my weekend was spent reading and watching coverage of the Boston Marathon tragedy. Many times I had to stop reading or turn off the news channel I was watching because it floods into me and I get overwhelmed. I do not like the 24 hour news cycle. I feel as though I cannot get all of what is happening - I get that particular talking head's points of view and so many of them talk way too much.

But that is definitely my problem; more than likely rooted deep within my AADD. Because it must be working for most others. Just not this other.

But I read, and listened, and waited. For the fear to begin tumbling out. And I have seen it here and there. Okay - more than here and there. It's everywhere.

I am not a good debater. I have opinions, but many times in the moment, I cannot make helpful use of the facts that my opinions are based in. I know what I believe.

I also know what I don't believe.

I don't believe Muslims are what we need to be fearing. I just read an article in The Washington Post that put a period at the end of that sentence for me.

‘Please don’t be a Muslim’: Boston marathon blasts draw condemnation and dread in Muslim world

In this article Qasim Rashid, the chairman of the Muslim Writer’s Guild of America, was reported to have tweeted. “Whoever the culprit, no religion justifies this act of violence. We must remain united against extremism.”

United against extremism.

That's the message I want to take with me.

Extremism is the thing to fear. Not Christians, not Muslims, not Jews, not Buddhists. None of them are to be feared.

I get enraged frankly when the fingers are pointed. And they do get pointed. I have pointed as well at times. I'm not proud of that. Ever.

We react and need a place to put our fear and anger. Then we calm down and try to sift through the fear-based ramblings to get to the core of it. I'm never certain if I get to the core.

I live in a colorful neighborhood. Not quite, but very near, the inner city. I am a white, Lutheran, middle-class, middle-aged, woman with blue eyes and white skin. There are plenty around here just like me. There are plenty around here not like me at all.

I have some friends that think my area isn't the safest or the toniest. I admit to having a few thoughts in these directions myself from time to time. But it is my city. I see the reasons people could be afraid. But I also see neighborhoods that are living their lives. Good people. It's just a neighborhood.

Doesn't mean I don't pay attention to the thugs. Doesn't mean I float through my day-to-day with a misplaced feeling of safety, but I also don't want to walk under the cloud of fear.

Frankly? I am shocked from time to time at the things that people fear.

They fear gays, they fear blacks, they fear Jews, they fear Muslims, they fear any damn thing that might be different from them. And then, when the unthinkable happens, when someone just like THEM does something heineous, well, then they point fingers at the parents, at the schools, at whatever they have to so they don't ever ever have to look and realize that sometimes people do bad, horrible things.

People do bad, horrible things. But this doesn't mean I'm going to stop being a person. I don't fear people. I fear the reaction behind people's fears.

Extremism is so easy. You've got your position, and that's it. It doesn't take much thought. And when you go far enough to the right you meet the same idiots coming around from the left.
(Interview, Time Magazine, February 20, 2005)
~ Clint Eastwood

I Left That Where??

I have a lot of devices.

I have my beloved iMac that is beginning to show his age.

I have my new Macbook Pro laptop (kiss kiss). A powerhouse that I will be loading with all of my powerhouse software so I can do my new job on the fly as I've found working at home all the time is kinda lonely and I need the office culture to keep me lovely and smart and plugged in. This sweetie is gorgeous and I am in love with it.

I have my iPad. I didn't love my iPad at first. I kinda thought it was crazy to have, yet, another thing to manage. I have found that it's a great resource and very portable for my transient ways at the moment. My scary-genius boss set up my work email on this little baby so I have to keep it close. Pup got me a keyboard that holds it and then snaps onto as a cover. That really clinched the deal for me. I hated that touchscreen. My brain loves to work fast; when it's working.

Last, but not least, is my phone. I stopped bitching about it (finally) and find it lovely. Samsung, love has grabbed me, beat me over the head, and left me a slave to you. #overstatingismylife

Why am I talking about these life-helpers? I have a hard time managing everything!

First: the email. I have email everywhere. I have five email accounts for differing reasons. Jobs, transitioning, blog. All five of them are necessary. And all five of them come in on every device. Gah!

It doesn't stop me from losing emails. Forgetting emails. Over-answering emails. Under-answering emails. I am in email overload. I think it's my fault.

Then there is Facebook. I have been goofing with it for the past year and have found it fun and have found it a time suck as maybe some of you with Facebook have found it.

I open Facebook on my iMac, I open it on my Macbook, I open it on my iPad, I open it on my phone. I forget to shut it down. I'm sure if anyone is looking, and I'm pretty certain no one is, it looks like I'm on all the time. #fail

And the pinging. If I don't watch it, all of these things are chiming, pinging, ringing, nagging. Pup will say, "Was that you? Which one is it?" He's no better. He has lots of devices as well.

It's a dinging hell around here. And I'm not even adding in the appliances that ding and ping.

I could turn them all off and sometimes do. Turn off all the sounds that pop out of them. The quiet is good!

How do you guys manage all that you do? Am I missing an app? Don't tell me about it! But do tell me how you manage your stuff.

Grin and Bare It

I work in a small consignment store.

There are a few men that come into the store. Pretty fucking amazing men frankly. Men that think outside of the norm when it comes to shopping. Men that are curious and stay because it's awesome. Men that are stuck there with their wives (I'll never in a million years figure that one out - go home - go to the Home Depot - go anywhere but following your wife around looking like an idiot). Men that are gay and therefore (in a sweeping general sense) more savvy to shopping. Men that consign.

I had a guy come in yesterday that said, "Your men section is small, like in all consignment stores, but I always find something awesome."

I just nodded and smiled at him. Maybe I even winked. Because he's in. He gets it.

Our store deals with customers and consigners. Clearly that's how it works. Customers come in and shop. Consigners come in and consign. Many of the customers are also consigners. Some consigners would drop dead before they'd shop the store.

The consigners are mainly women. The customers are mainly women.

In the past few weeks:

• I was called "her highness" by a disgruntled consigner that doesn't like to follow rules and told me in a Russian accent, "I am so sorry I am not up to your standards your highness, but I cannot follow the rules because I blah blah blah fuckin' blah." Bite me.
• A woman argued with me on a piece of designer clothing that was soiled around the collar. The consigner kept telling me, "This cost a lot of money. Someone will want this. It's a great party outfit. Do you realize who Oscar de la Renta is?" Bite me. First of all, wearing an outfit that makes you look like a piece of wedding cake (sorry Oscar) is heinous; just because it cost lots of "money" doesn't make it good. It's dirty - get the hell out.
• A woman was staring at my name tag and said, "Do you WORK here? When did you start wearing name tags?" Bite me. WTF? She also insisted on wearing a bracelet around the store because, "She wanted to see how it feels. I won't steal it." Yes, of course, she stole it. Get your husband to bite me. I'm guessing it's been a few years since he's had any fun.
• A woman stomped her foot and pouted when told she couldn't leave all of her stuff for consigning and go have lunch. "I'm late! Can't you just do this?" Bite me. Get in line. And plan your day better.
• A woman walked out in a huff saying, "I am not bringing stuff here anymore. It never sells." Bite me. Her stuff was usually pity-takes; which, frankly, I don't condone.
• A woman who had to tell me a story about every pieced she brought in. Bite me. What the hell do I care? Do you see the consigners waiting their turn behind you?
• A customer brought a pile of stuff up to the counter, said she was ready, and then while I was organizing her items, she's still deciding. "Oh! Maybe I should try that on again! Let me think about it. Oh, I saw a top - let me run get it." Bite me. People are stacking up behind you. Decide before you come to checkout.
• A customer indignantly marched up to the front of the store exclaiming, "Who put that top away I was looking at?" Bite me. WTH are you talking about? She found it. Right where she left it. Sigh
• A consigner that has consigned one piece of clothing and calls every day to see if it's sold. Frets every time she's told, "not yet." Bite me. There are thousands of pieces in this store. Not all of them sell.

I tell Pup stories every day when I come home from work. He laughs his ass off and can't believe what he's hearing most of the time.

It makes me feel good to laugh along with him because, hey, you have to laugh!

But for now, I'm buying myself the hugest tiara I can find and changing my name-tag to "Her Highness."

The Ultimate in Xray-wear

flyingpasties.com

Rubber to hide our naughty bits.

The one covering her little snapdragon looks like it could be pokey. Ouch!