to shreds.

What if I suddenly changed course? And what if I don't have that choice right now? Those two questions have been haunting my thoughts more than they should be these past few weeks. Enough to give me a stomach ache, and enough to cause me difficulty sleeping. 

Also, I've been dreaming about riding a bus. Like, often.

Anyway. I know me and my fickle heart all too well, and I know that it sometimes steers me wrong, and in every which direction. But then, often enough it doesn't, and I know one thing for sure. I've never been able to ignore it.

I don't know how much of this happens on account of fate, and how much of it I impose upon myself. It doesn't really suit me to sit around counting my blessings. I'm not saying that I don't appreciate them. I do. I'm just terrified of contentment, at least for comfort's sake. I'm not even entirely opposed to comfort, if only it weren't so predictably conducive to making me cease all movement in any particular direction. Comfort seems so rigid in its rules. Even in the most serene water, if you throw even the tiniest of all pebbles, it's still going to make a ripple. And today, I happen to like ripples, or at least the idea of them. The problem is, I only have this rock.

Ripples are one thing, but a tidal wave? I know I'm not ready for that.

But I can't keep kidding myself. Something has to change. For starters, I need to exercise more. I've been down for so long with the strangest of unidentifiable illness that my strength is all but depleted. I'm still shocked that it's claimed almost an entire year of my life, and that not one of at least 12 doctors has been able to pin it down. 

The guesses so far; sinus infection, sarcoidosis, Eustachian tube dysfunction, TMJ, glue ear, vertigo, Multiple Sclerosis, Lyme disease, severe allergies, and non-allergic rhinitis (this seems to be correct, but the cause has remained elusive), and migraine. Not to mention the ever convenient diagnosis, anxiety. And perhaps if I take their happy pills, I won't notice anymore that they have no idea what the hell they're doing, and that they're robbing me blind. On the good side, I've had much better days since I was laid off in September. I'm almost convinced that soon enough, this, and even the ringing in my ears will be a distant and hopefully mostly suppressed memory. Except for the good parts, and there have been a few somehow, mostly in spite of it.

On top of more exercise, I've cut out most caffeine, and a whole lot of sugar. My meals include fresher fruits and vegetables. And a lot of greens. Teas are mostly herbal, and breads are whole grain.

But those are the easy ones. I still have to feed and exercise my mind, and I've been horribly neglectful of it more months. I've promised it that I'll read more, and hopefully watch a lot less television than I have been. But I'm still glad that I watched every episode of My Name Is Earl. No one's going to fault me for that, right?

Thankfully, I still cook often, which sometimes satisfies my creative urges, as well as provides my brain with at least a little bit of stimulation.

So where was I going with this again?

For the moment, I know exactly what I have to do: wait and see. I wish right now that I had patience on my side, but I can, at least, kill some time trying to find it.

two sugars.

It's the day after Thanksgiving, and I'm still thankful. I'm happy with my home, I'm happy with the people in it, and I'm thrilled to avoid shopping on Black Friday of all days. Instead I'm home, coffee in hand, with my all-time favorite sound coming from the laundry basket behind me: cat snores.

I'm pleased that everyone here, including the cats, is relaxing. Okay, so it's actually just me and the cats. But forget this shopping crap. My sister invited me, and I said no, mostly on the basis that I can and most likely would be arrested for assault, possibly with some sort of blunt object, like a television that someone wanted and pushed me out of the way to obtain. And I have no intentions of fighting over a Hello Kitty pillow pal (if there were such a thing) to save five bucks. I'd rather save myself the jail time and sit home reading a book over coffee, thanks.

I borrowed The Time Traveler's Wife from my mom yesterday and started reading it before dinner. Seems a little confusing at first, but I like the idea. Love transcending time and all that. I'm only a few chapters in, but so far, so good. Should hold my attention for the bulk of this morning until I finally decide to face the day, the traffic, and something I've been looking forward to for a long time.

Here's to making up for lost time, and for not letting time damage the very connections that make it possible. And for not letting time turn every piece of the past into nostalgia.

as charged.

Guilt. Both a lovely tool, and horrible curse, indeed. Mr. Fred Rogers spent a lifetime teaching us that we are important. That just being born makes us each a valuable person. He also tried to teach us to live morally, and with a consciousness for our neighbors. But still, here we are, ripping each other to shreds.

I've been observing many a negative response to the Occupy movement, and it would seem it's based on the assumption that every one of them is unemployed and in debt. I suppose that's possible, but I doubt it. 

I would venture to say, however, that every one of them believes that a lot of our problems could be solved, and it's time to let the people at the top of this mess know that we know that they know it can and should be fixed. Not by redistribution of wealth, but by recognizing that we as employees and consumers are still part of the equation that makes them wealthy in the first place. Instead of hiring us, paying us fair money for our good work, and manufacturing (possibly right here in America) superior products for us to purchase with our hard earned dough, they've chosen just to take what we have left, give it to some corporations and banks, then piss what's left into a war for oil. I mean what kind of freedom is it that I should feel guilty for having a few "things?"  And how the hell am I greedy for wanting to live on more than a shoestring budget? 

Is it so awful to finally take a stand and say that we are not all satisfied with our meager paychecks, which aren't even a third of what we need to pay for simple things like groceries, a cell phone, our electric and heating bills, and possibly a few things we don't need, like a new pair of pants, or the internet? And is it wrong for me to wish for my own benefit that it weren't true that someone in India is taking your phone call on behalf of American banks and corporations that operate here, but set up headquarters in other countries to avoid paying taxes here? And that I wish they wouldn't lobby that I pay more taxes than they do? And that instead of lobbying for lower taxes, they take that money and put it into jobs and a better product?

I did, just last week, receive a job opportunity via the internet I don't "need"...but then again I could have picked it up at the library for free, right? 

The library that's only open three and a half days a week now because the state cut it's funding after it raised taxes and a fair number of fees? Libraries do fall under the "public service" category last I checked. Public schools are in the same boat. When there's a budget problem, you cut things that aren't necessities. So who's telling us neither of those things are necessities? And while I sit here feeling guilty for collecting unemployment after working and paying into it for 23 years, and for not cutting out luxuries like phone and internet, should I feel guilty for attending public schools and using public libraries, or for calling the police when some sex offender used my mailbox illegally to receive his welfare check after he got out of prison?

What I'm saying is that we've been conditioned to think we don't need anything to be happy. I'm arguing that they want us to give them everything we have, and then think we're better people because we did. Because we don't need anything, but they do. Who is "they?" Damned if I know. But I know that my $750 paycheck was becoming a $550 paycheck before I even saw it. At the end of the year even that's reduced once I pay the rest of my taxes, and at the end of the day I sit at home trying to cut more expenses, particularly food, phone, internet, and cable. I'm sure somehow I'm to blame for my lack of ability to pay for these things, even though I've been working since I was 14, and have at least 10 years of experience in the industry that actually chose me, because lord knows I'm not doing what I want. 

We could argue that I'm not doing what I want because I didn't go to college, which for starters I couldn't afford...but hey, I don't have any debt, save $1,000 between two credit cards, and $10,000 for the bare bones car for which I took a loan for $12,500. Oh wait, it has air conditioning and a CD player.  

And I'm insisting that $550 a week doesn't go very far anymore, and I still somehow believe it's a decent paycheck. I know because I once could afford to live on a $300 paycheck and have money to spare. Ah, the 90s. That must have been the point at which I became spoiled rotten, like all of us ugly Americans that want things. Like good jobs that don't threaten our health, financial rewards for our hard work (the bank execs sure receive them), and some freedom to buy our own way to a better economy that keeps us safe, educated if we so choose, and not just fed, but nourished. So, if we're not supposed to want all of these things, why are we fighting under the guise that we want these things for other countries?

I'm confused, and guilty. But I do protest.