Currently Listening to: Natalie Imbruglia - Torn

Torn

I thought I saw a man brought to life
He was warm
He came around
And he was dignified
He showed me what it was to cry

Well you couldn't be that man I adored
You don't seem to know
Or seem to care
What your heart is for
I don't know him anymore

There's nothin' where he used to lie
My conversation has run dry
That's what's going on
Nothing's right
I'm torn

I'm all out of faith
This is how I feel
I'm cold and I am shamed
Lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed
Into something real
I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
You're a little late
I'm already torn

So I guess the fortune teller's right
I should have seen just what was there and not some holy light
But you crawled beneath my veins
And now, I don't care
I have no luck
I don't miss it all that much
There's just so many things
That I can't touch
I'm torn

There's nothin' he used to lie
My inspiration has run dry
That's what's going on
Nothing's right
I'm torn
Chorus

Tales from the Phone Lines: The Stupid Things People Say

As I have stated in a previous post, I have the displeasure of playing receptionist while our firm continues to find "the one": the ideal receptionist/office manager. I'm not new to this game, having had to take on this role too many times over the past 3 1/2 years. Nevertheless, there are still things about this role that surprise me, particularly the many stupid things people say out of frustration or, in rare instances, true stupidity. For example:

Well, can you tell me what I'm supposed to do with this paperwork? This is in response to my statement that "I do NOT know ANYTHING about this matter. The ONLY person who can help you is Mr. Smith and he is unavailable."

Well, I need to speak to him right now. This is in response to: "Mr. Smith is not in the office today." I guess this caller expects me to pull Mr. Smith out of my a**.

Are you sure you're giving him my messages? First of all, what do I have to gain from not giving my employer his messages? Second, why would I be unsure about something as simple as giving someone a phone message? Do I sound like I'm suffering from amnesia or Alzheimer's? Do I sound mentally challenged? Sometimes I'm tempted to answer, "Actually, I'm not sure if I did. I'm not sure if I'll even remember this conversation. Who is this, again?"

Now, repeat my message to me. This statement is more condescending than stupid. It assumes that I am too stupid to get your message right the first time. If you want your message to be received exactly as you have stated it, then LEAVE A DAMNED MESSAGE IN VOICE MAIL. *calming, cleansing breath in and out* OK....

I just called and my call went to voicemail. I wanted to talk to Mr. Smith. Obviously, if your call went to voicemail, it's because Mr. Smith is unavailable. A person with average intelligence should understand that. Even more annoying than that statement is the caller's insistance that I take down the message, after they have refused voicemail. Don't you know it's all the same? Just because you gave me the message, it doesn't make Mr. Smith call you faster.

Make him call me. Sure, I'll pull my employer by his ear, sit him down and make him call you. I'll be sure to do that!

When calling an office - your doctor, lawyer, accountant - where you may reach a live person, please do not utter any of the above statements. And, above all, please please PLEASE do not use profanity when speaking to the receptionist. Would you want to help out someone who just called you a "f***ing b****"?

A short story by Margie

A high school English teacher once told me that I had a real talent for writing. She encouraged me to pursue a career in that field and told me "I look forward to seeing your work in the bookstores some day." While I was flattered by her words, I never really believed that I have what it takes to be a writer. Nevertheless, I write short stories from time to time and often have a plot line brewing in my mind. Below is the beginning of one of those short stories floating around in my head. I just typed it up this morning. Feel free to tell me what you think.

She woke up abruptly from a dreamless sleep and waited for her eyes to get acclimated to the dark. The digital clock beside her read 5:30 and the sun had yet to make its grand appearance. She laid there for a few minutes, debating whether to get up or attempt another round of sleep before the alarm would go off. The sleeping form beside her rustled, sighed and quieted again. She turned her head slowly to stare at his face and saw the back of his head. She was beginning to know that side of his head more than his face, it seemed.

It didn’t seem that long ago when they would sleep face to face, when she would wake up in the middle of the night to stare at him. In those days, she would sometimes wake up to find him already staring at her with that look in his eyes, as if he wanted to permanently brand her image into his memory. That was years ago but she would sometimes wonder if she just dreamt the whole thing.

On her way to work each day, she would see the same young couple riding the train to work. They were obviously in love and most likely newlyweds. He would have his arm around her, looking into her eyes, his one hand intertwined with hers. They would talk quietly to each other in the tiny space between them, oblivious to the rush hour world around them. She didn’t envy them their intimacy; in fact, she felt sorry for them because she knew the loving gestures would eventually fade into memory, to be recalled in quiet moments of sadness and regret. They were in the infant stage of their relationship and, like the progression of physical life, that relationship would eventually grow into maturity, slow down and die. Slowly but surely, expressions of love will be replaced with complacency. The one you couldn’t live without slowly becomes merely a stranger you live with. The loving gestures become fewer and, when they do, only because they are expected due to the date on the calendar. That loving look will be replaced with the occasional look of lust, when a physical need must be met. Romance, she now knew, has a very short and fragile lifespan.

The man beside her turned over in his sleep. She could see his face now, but only his profile. Soon the alarm will go off, pulling him forcefully out of his sleep. He will lay there for a few minutes, open his eyes and ask her, “What time are you leaving for work?” She will answer him, painfully aware: he doesn't know she has already left.

Happy Birthday to Me: Part 2

My day basically went as planned.

I enjoyed a delicious chocolate-chip pancake breakfast at the Greenhouse Coffee Shop and restaurant at Harvard Square. With a full belly, I browsed a few of the stores in the Square, and resisted purchasing a cute card-holder at Black Ink. Empty-handed, I took the red line to Park Street and did some shopping at Downtown Crossing. I purchased a skirt, slacks and a necklace for work. I couldn't resist buying a cute little outfit for my baby girl as well. After browsing the books at Borders, I gave myself a mental pat-on-the-back for actually walking out of the bookstore without purchasing something: a first!

After noting the time, I rushed to the movie theater at Boston Common and bought a ticket for "The Descent," a hot dog and some Reese's bites (not exactly the leisurely, full course lunch I had planned but I had to compromise!) I thoroughly enjoyed the movie and recommend it to other horror-flick fans. I definitely plan to purchase the DVD of that movie when it comes out.

After the movie, I elbowed my way through the crowd, which now included some of the folks from the first Red Sox game and the early office rush hour crowd. When I got home, 2 vases full of flowers sat waiting for me on the living room window sill, each with a card. One was from my husband and the other from my daugher (signed and personalized by my dear husband, of course). It was a sweet gesture and such a nice surprise.

I had a wonderful birthday, to say the least. I wish I could have each Friday off from work to have some alone time to do whatever I want. Those kinds of days seem so few and far between.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Today is my birthday. I asked for this day off from work because who wants to work on their birthday? Not me. Anyway, I've decided to have a day that's just for me: a pancake or waffle breakfast, shopping, a movie and lunch. When people hear that I'll be doing this all alone - my husband couldn't get the day off - I tell them I don't mind. That's only partly true. While I have no problems being alone today, the only person I would have loved to spend this day with me is thousands of miles away: my mom. I know that my mom would enthusiastically agree to do whatever I wanted to do, regardless of the amount of time it would take or how much it would cost. Besides, as a mom, I know that my child's birthday is almost as important and special to me as it is to that child. My mom, after all, is my favourite shopping buddy.

Apart from taking a day off to do everything and anything I want to do, I'm ordering some Wicked whoopie pies. I don't know what I'll do with a dozen whoopie pies (probably freeze them?) but I couldn't find a local bakery that offered the same variety of whoopies pies as this online company. They're located in Maine and the pies should arrive early next week, which is a nice way for me to extend my very private birthday celebration for another few days. Which goes to show: I may be in my thirtys, but I'm still a little kid at heart. :)

You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

On my way to work, I overheard two girls talking about a broken relationship. One girl sighed heavily and said "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone." This made me think about my husband and what my life would be if he wasn't in it.

If I never met my husband, I would never know how it feels to feel beautiful and irresistible in someone's eyes. I would never know passion and desire. I would never know the feeling of safety and protection from physical harm. I would never have known my Makayla, who is the tangible symbol of our love - a part of me and him in one person.

If my husband wasn't in my life now, I would miss his sleeping form beside me at night and his warm embrace in the early morning hours before our daughter wakes up. I would miss his daily e-mails and phone calls at work when he just wants to know how my day is going. I would miss him cleaning and cooking so I could just sit back and relax. I would miss his offers for massages when my back or neck hurt. I would miss his blue eyes looking at me with love and affection. I would miss my best friend.

Sometimes, life becomes so hectic and stressful that we start to take our loved ones for granted. We become so focused on our own problems and thoughts that they almost fade into the background. Then, when they are gone we realize what they meant to us. I don't want to wait until it's gone to realize what I have. And I hope that, each day, I show my husband how much I love and appreciate him for all he is and does for me.

Marriage is never a fairytale.

I don't normally follow or care about celebrities and their numerous hook-ups, separations or other drama. But after watching an MTV special on her, I became a Kate Hudson fan. I don't necessarily love her movies but I like the type of person she appears to be: positive, bubbly, genuine and free-spirited. Recently, she has reportedly separated from her husband, Chris Robinson. Prior to the news of their separation, Kate had stated, "I don't like this idea of the perfect marriage. People can be in love madly and deeply and go through so much and still end up together. That's what you hope for. No one should get married if they think it's going to be a fairytale." I couldn't agree with her more. She also revealed that they had an "open" marriage, something I do not agree with. Some would think that having an inclusive marriage is not much of a marriage at all.

Last night, I had a lively discussion with J, one of my husband's friends. He stated his belief that no man is truly capable of being monogamous because all men desire multiple sexual partners. The debate surrounding men and their biological wiring towards "spreading their seed" continues to swirl and so-called scientific studies that show an evolutionary basis for the average man's inclination to seek multiple sexual conquests seem to back up J's position . While I agree that men and women generally view sex differently (i.e. men can separate sex from love while women have a more difficult time doing so), I think, as human beings, men have the capacity to transcend their physical urges. The human being's ability to use his or her mental facilities - reason, self-control, self-discipline - to rule his or her physical self is what separates us from the animals. Yes, men may have the biological urge to have sex with as many women as they possibly can, but most men also have the mental capacity to control such urges. Thus, a married or otherwise involved man blaming his "biological inclinations" for his cheating ways is nothing but an immature, selfish child - unwilling to control his urges.

A real marriage requires hard work from both parties. It is never a fairy tale, with happily ever after, but is part drama and part comedy. While nature might make our eye wander, our hearts keep us anchored at home. But when our physical urges begin to surpass our love for our partner, perhaps it is a signal to let our partner go. Marriage without exclusivity of love - be it physical or emotional - is not a real marriage but just a cheap imitation.

Why I Hate Job Interviews

My mind went blank. The light from the recessed lighting seemed to burn over my head, causing me to sweat. I had an acute feeling that I was under the blaring lights in an interrogation room. Before I could think, my mouth uttered names. I watched the interrogator - I mean, interviewer - for any signs of suspicion.

You went to McGill? I went there, too.
Really? That's great
Who were your professors for [insert name of class here]?

I rattled off the names of professors whose names came to mind and he immediately confirmed that he remembered those professors as well. Yet, I couldn't help but feel that he was testing me in some way. I almost felt like offering to bring him my law school diplomas, which hang in one of the rooms at my parents' home.

The interview went well and he seemed geniunely interested in hiring me. Despite the outcome, I still hated the whole experience of hand-shaking, forced smiling and the Q & A. Going on job interviews feels like going in for an interrogation. You are asked a lot of questions and you better have some good answers for them. Often the conference room is deceptively welcoming, with a large window and a long, shiny table surrounded by plush chairs. In this case, they even had candy lined up in cermic dishes beckoning you to "relax, take it easy" before they lunge at you with a multitude of questions. Despite the layout of the conference room where the interview takes place, it is still an interrogation.

I hate selling myself. I rarely talk about my "good points" and loathe to have to highlight them to get a job. But I know that this is what I must do at a job interview. And I hate every minute of it.

Feast of the Blessed Sacrament, New Bedford, MA - August 5, 2006

Makayla and Great-grandma Hilda.

Makayla and Great-grandma Hilda.

Makayla crying on her first Carnival ride.

Makayla cried the entire time she was on this ride. I felt so guilty leaving her on it alone but the seats were so tiny; there was no way I could squeeze my adult-sized butt in that seat! The ride controller kicked me off before I could figure out what to do.

Makayla loved the carousel. She rode the sleigh and on one of the horses two times each, laughing and waving at everyone standing around the carousel.

Dream Big

I'm currently reading the book "Life Without Limits" by Lucinda Bassett. It's an easy-to-read book with a very positive message about seriously and consciously reassessing what we want out of life and working through the obstacles we place in front of ourselves that prevent us from achieving our dreams. It encourages us to dream big and to set goals for ourselves. It has changed and reshifted my perspective from a negative to a positive one, not unlike the kind of mindset I had in my early 20s. During my college years, nothing was impossible and the sky was the limit.

Now, the sky's the limit once more. I have started to dream big again. I have set goals for the things I want for myself and for my family: financial security; excellent health; great friendships; a home in a good neighborhood with a decent yard for Makayla; freedom to live on our own schedules, with no one "above" us to dictate when and how long we work. Others can achieve it. Why not me?

Cute little "mug shot"

Makayla at 18 months. This photo was taken for her Certificate of Canadian Citizenship application. She will have dual citizenship: American and Canadian. I just loved this photo. I think it's the best photo of I have of her face thus far. I love it even though it looks like a mug shot.