It was only a dream...

I was politely informed by ms peas this morning that my blog has gotten a bit too dark. I am, therefore, bound to try to be funny (I think).

We will, therefore, pull out the great random conversations of the week.

A and I, hanging out tonight...

A- "Man, that was awesome crack!" (after cracking his back while sitting on the couch)
Me- "And here I thought I could put off rehab for at least another five years."
A - "Hey, I can quit any time."

Text message conversation with M this morning (at, um, 6:14 am, kinda)...

Me- I really don't get you morning people. At all. Ever. The end.
M (7:49 am)- very nice...a text from you complaining about 'early birds' that actually woke me up!
Me- Wow, I really am a bitch.

an IM conversation with peas after work yesterday...

Me- "Just got home from Portillo's...yum!! Also got my new glasses. Yay!"
peas- "WHAT?? PORTILLOS???? YOU SKANK BITCH FROM HELL"
peas- "I mean hi, how are you?"
A (enters room, reads screen) - "Man, that woman is funny. And yet so mean. It's like chocolate and peanut butter, they go together perfectly!"

at work this afternoon...

D- "Where have you been lately?"
Me- "Out. Client meetings constantly. I'm exhausted."
D- "Well, maybe if you weren't sleeping with all of them, you'd have more energy."
F- "Right. So then she could sleep with us, too!"
Me- "And this, my friends, is why I still come here every day."
F- "Hey, remember the first rule of office flirting. It's only sexual harassment if you don't enjoy it."
Me- "If you leave a puddle, I'm leaving NOW."
D- "Damn it man, don't ruin it for the rest of us!"
Me- "I swear, this is like flirt-fight club. Without the fun parts."

at a client meeting this morning...

Client- "C, I meant to ask you. Do I need to do that thing we talked about?"
Me- "Hm. You mean the thing, at the place, with the people and the stuff?"
Client- "Um, yes. I suppose so."
Me- "No, I took care of it. You're all set."
Client- "That's good, because my brain just leaked out of my ear."
Me- "Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people."
Client- "God help the person who speaks your language, my dear."
Me- "No, God prefers to stay out of it."
Client- "Good plan. Want a cookie?"

Life is too short. Remember to stop and appreciate the funny :)

My chest hurts, I have a splitting headache, the really cool meeting I had today was canceled, and everyone in the whole world is stupid.

I am therefore feeling very mean at the moment.

In lieu of saying all of the snarky, horrible things to the people that pissed me off today, I'm writing them here. For the record, my mother never taught me any rules about what to do if I can't write anything nice...

So if you're reading this, I hate you. Don't take it personally - I hate everyone today. Just be glad you're not one of the people below.

To the idiot who took up three parking spaces in the garage this morning so nobody would ding his BMW -
I hope a piano falls out of an airplane and crashes through three layers of concrete before landing directly in your driver's seat. As a matter of fact, I hope it happens twice, just for good measure.

To the absolute moron who held up my orange juice purchase for ten minutes in the convenience store in Union Station because he had to return the $1.72 granola bar he just put on his credit card, as he needed that money in his account for something else-
You go to hell. You go to hell and you die.

To the woman who canceled my meeting with one of the premier arts organizations in Chicago this morning so she could attend an event where she may end up on tv (and then had the balls to send me the video that's going to appear on four different newscasts tonight)-
Fuck off and die in a fire. I mean that in the nicest possible way. Which still isn't very nice.

To the 20-something blonde, skinny bimbo wearing 4-inch spike heels in the office today...who couldn't figure out how to take a proper step in them without tripping or shuffling her feet like a drunk-
You are a miserable tramp. If you can't walk in them, don't frickin wear them. You are officially no longer pretty, and are also too dumb to live.

To the three men over 6' tall I went to lunch with who insisted on walking as fast as possible for five blocks because they didn't wear coats and were cold-
I can walk in heels. I am, however, 5'2", and making me run in them to keep up with you is not very gentlemanly. Choosing not to wear a coat when it's 30 degrees outside isn't macho - it's infantile. Grow up, or I'm going to make you wear mittens.

To the dickhead I was stuck behind on the Kennedy this afternoon who insisted on driving 52 mph in the express lanes-
I hope that piano ricochets off the BMW and crashes through your windshield. While I'm watching. So I can point and laugh. And take video that will show up on four tv stations tonight.

To the 'friend' who calls me every Friday afternoon to tell me that our kids are talking about a sleepover again, and ask if I can take her son for the night-
My kid doesn't like your kid THAT much. And I'm starting to not like you at all. Do you really think I can't tell when you make shit up? If start yelling, "BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!" like a bad lie detector every time you open your mouth, will you be offended? Good.

To you, reading this-
Bite me. Seriously.

p.s. - See? Next time you wonder why I'm quiet and look grouchy, you won't ask. Especially if I have a piano handy.

p.p.s. - Sleepover-monger-mom-friend just called again. I didn't answer. I am going to make her sweat for an hour or so while I go pull legs off of kittens or something.

p.p.p.s. - Shut up. I know you love me anyway.

p.p.p.p.s. - You do too, you liar.

...but I honestly giggle every time I watch Chad Vader. I can't help it.

I miss you.
Not so much the you that isn't here now.
More the you that wasn't here before
and the you that was here before that.

But most of all
I miss the you that was there when I was, too.
Or maybe
just maybe
I miss the me that was with you
when the there became here
and the here became there
and the when wasn't so entangled
with the why.

The low clouds were tumbling across the downtown skyline today, threatening to bring rain in on the gusty winds. It was a gray, gloomy, blustery day - but it was sixty-five degrees as I stopped on the plaza overlooking the river.

It almost smelled like spring.

Last week, it was five below zero. Any exposed skin was immediately shocked into stinging agony upon stepping outside. The wind bit fiercely into the lungs with each breath, and everyone shrugged as far down as possible into their thickest coats to preserve precious body heat. It was bitterly cold, even for Chicago in January.

Today, though, I left my suit jacket in the office when leaving for lunch. Even in a thin white dress shirt, the air felt warm, fresh, and clean. I stood alongside the river, listening to the street musicians that had come out of hiding for the day...the saxophonist behind me was taking his best shot at Take Five. I think it turned out to be in six, but it didn't matter. The city had come back to life, just for today.

As the wind whipped my hopelessly tangling hair into my eyes, I raised my face to the sky. I half-expected raindrops against my cheeks, but felt only the sweet warmth of the air blowing in off the lake. For a very long time, I stood sipping my coffee and listening to the city as it savored the brief respite from the grip of winter.

I wished for a few more moments.

I wished for spring.

I wished for rain.

I wished for...

courage.

And tonight....tonight it rains.

The other night, I decided to set A up with Yahoo Instant Messenger on his laptop. I had a few reasons - first and foremost, I could set it so that it signs him in automatically every time he accesses the internet. This means I can always see when he's online. Second, he has a tendency to hang out in his room reading video game FAQ's, and I hate having to yell up the stairs for him. Third, I could add his dad to his list, and they'd have another way of communicating. It's all good, right?

For the sake of the safety police, I also set it so that he can't get messages from anyone who is not on his messenger list - preventing random strangers from talking to him. I also check his browser history regularly, just to make sure he's not doing anything stupid online. He's eleven - need I say more?

So anyway, a couple of days ago, after watching our evening Seinfeld reruns (it's been pretty good lately -they've been showing the ones with Babu Bhatt and Elaine knocking Ping, the Chinese delivery guy, off his bike), A went up to his bedroom to hang out. He was on his laptop, and bouncing up and down on the bed. I'm not sure how one does those things simultaneously, but I guess perhaps I'm just too old to understand.

Let there be no question why I love this child more than life itself.

C : I see you.
A: no you don't
C: yuh-huh
A: nu-uh stalker
C: hahahahahahaha
A: yeah yea keep laughing
C: put some pants on, jeez.
C: I see London, I see France.
A: i'm wearing them
C: I hear you, too.
C: Mr. Squeaky Bed
A: what did i say, stalker
C: you WISH I was a stalker.
A: right, you're worse
C: or at least a stalker with pie.
A: pie
C: right. I'm a stalker without pie.
A: noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
A: pie
A: poie
C: serves you right, you little demon.
A: gimme pie
C: you pieless demon.
A: meat pie
C: no pie for you. come back one year!
A: ok
A: ping
C: just don't run into me on my bike.
A: you bad lady, very very bad lady
A: I'm still wearing pants
C: and I'm still eating pie without you
C: this pie is awesome.
C: ooops
C: now it's gone
C: sorry.
C: I even ate the fork and plate, it was so good
A: I just found pie.
A: it was in my pants pocket
C: that's it. back to Pakistan with you.
A: i love you
C: I love you too. Now go get me some more pie.

I was on my way to the little family New Year celebration, driving up to see my son and his dad (yes, we still do a lot of family things together. Yes, I know most divorced people don't do that. Call me crazy, but it works for us). Without even realizing that it was the time of year to make resolutions, something of the sort formed in my head. I will, however, give it a term other than resolution, as it's nowhere near the standard, "I'm going to lose 20 pounds and spend money more wisely" kind of crap.

What do I intend to do this year?

To put it bluntly, I want to start getting this huge stick out of my ass.

I was talking to M about it last night, trying to put it into words. M is quite good at making me quantify things. He's awesome like that. I didn't have it completely formulated then, but I'm getting closer. It's going to take some work before it gets to the manifestation phase.

Here's the thing. I have spent the last several years building credibility. Let's be honest...I haven't always been the most sensible person in the world. I think one or two of you could come up with some pretty good stories about the legendary Christine-flightiness, but I'll ask you to politely keep them to yourselves. They are there, and I remember them all quite well.

So when I found myself in the position of being a divorced parent, it was scary. How was I going to provide a good example for my boy? How could I support our little family, make something of myself, and be a productive member of society that bucked the stereotype of the single mom?

By working my ass off, that's how.

I focused on my career, and on being a decent parent. I drilled down to the details that had previously been of little matter to me. I obsessed about paying my bills on time, making sure that A's homework was done every night, and leaving no stone unturned at work in order to advance my career. I took my biggest weakness - my laziness - and fought it with every bit of strength that I had.

In the last eight years, I have brought my boy to the brink of puberty as a decent, respectable young man. At work, I became the youngest person in my local group by fifteen years (and the youngest female department/company-wide by over five years) to hold an officer title, then pushed things over the edge to head up my own line of business. I own my own house, which I have been renovating constantly to turn into a comfortable home. I have won my way back into the arts, and made incredible connections and friendships.

You know what, though? I have spent very little time enjoying any of it. The fear of failing, of never being enough, has lingered with me. I micromanage far too much, and don't take enough time to look at the big picture of how great my life really is.

So it's time. Time to stop being afraid. Time to stop worrying that the slightest setback will mean I'm not successful. Time to laugh, time to have fun. Time to enjoy everything I have built.

Does this mean I'm going to stop working so hard? Pfffft. No way. It just means that I'm going to try not going to live in the little box anymore. I'm not planning to push myself to exhaustion and illness to prove something to the world. I don't intend to worry about everything, all of the time.

I want to give myself a little credit, and feel free. I am, in fact, a passionate, fun-loving person. I've been suppressing that too much, for too long...it's time to let my guard down and try to have, as I said to M, a calmer mind. Life is too short to have that kind of stick up my ass every day.

So this isn't a resolution. Resolutions are too cliché, and I hate them. It is, again, a realization. It isn't some huge life change...it's simply an attempt to take a different view of what's already there. I want to have more fun. I want to be more fun. I want to live, and love living.

Because love is what it's all about, no?