I seriously overslept this morning. I had planned to get up and have most of my weekend chores completed by now, but I’m still in my pajamas. The alarm sounded but I don’t remember turning it off. I didn’t have the benefit of a kitty alarm because she’s banned from the bedroom. She’s developed a hair ball problem. I’m going to try that black goop that comes in a tube and if that doesn’t work, off to the vet she goes.

I had one of my “quiet house epiphanies” this morning. Though I am loathe to admit it, I have been slacking through existence for the last couple of years. I under perform at work and sleep walk through life. The whole world seems to be moving at a marathon pace and I’m talking a leisurely walk. It finally hit me this morning why that is. My mother died a couple of years back. My whole outlook on life changed though I didn’t realize it at the time. A close friend pointed out that I had been different ever since my mother succumbed to the Big C and I saw that she was right. I believed it was because I had no more nemesis. There is no one left alive that would tear me down to build herself up. I thought I would be happy because that meant I was free to be me. In the vein the Pink Floyd’s The Wall, I could stop building my wall. It’s high enough and thick enough to protect me from whatever.

Oh how wrong I was.

The measurement of my worth as a human being is gone so I no longer feel the need to push myself. I have allowed every aspect of my life to slowly deteriorate; career, marriage and health (I’ve put on about 30 pounds since my mother died). Self motivation is not nearly as powerful a drive (for me anyway) as fending off parental judgement. I don’t know how to move forward without someone I need to prove myself to. I’m an old dog trying to learn new tricks and failing miserably.

So despite my best pharmaceutical efforts, I remain in a rather hostile mood today.  Hey what’s to be angry about?  Some prick is trying to steal my job and my boss is pretty much letting him.  I went in to my boss’s office to get some clarification about my place in the office, but he doesn’t seem interested in hearing my concerns.  That bored look on his face pissed me off and the Xanax I took magically disappeared from my blood stream.  It was a little disconcerting as that has never happened to me before.  Usually Xanax keeps me mellow no matter what.  I guess I’ll just have to learn to control my temper.

I won’t get into the details as I’ve read enough news stories about people being fired for blogging about work.  Let’s just say that a minority-majority workplace is no guarantee that you will be shielded from discrimination.  On the positive side, the incident did remind me of my long term goals and I stuck to my diet instead going out for comfort food.  In fact, now that I really think about it, this could work to my advantage.  If I can get this guy to take over more of my responsibilities, it will leave me more time for career development.  Since I’m looking to leave anyway, why should it matter if he wants my job?  The hard part will be protecting myself until I’m ready to leave.

 

First Lady Laura Bush, the administration’s most vocal opponent of the junta in Myanmar, offered the U.S. response to the cyclone that has killed more than 10,000 in Myanmar. NBC's John Yang reports.

Our government is criticizing another government for its response to a natural disaster?  Pot.  Kettle.  Black.

Letters: Our new friend is a racist -- should we dump him? - Salon

The thing I've never understood about racism is why white people spend so much time thinking about my skin color? I get up, brush my teeth, workout, shower, dress and leave for work. It's only when I step out the door that I become conscious of my skin color. It's like having a whole society of nettling imps (think Magic the Gathering card game) constantly jumping up and down in your face screeching "You're Black, you're Black, you're Black!" It's not like I can turn it off like the television or radio. I wish White people spent as much time thinking about my skin color as I do about theirs, which is not at all unless something is said or done to draw my attention to it. Imps.

 AngryBlackBitch

I'm not crazy!  Umm....wait...unless she's crazy too...

Religious Words (95) at The Word Nerds

I didn't post these thoughts on The Word Nerds site because they are inflammatory and it's not my intent to insult them.  They talked a bit about how American Christians seem reluctant to express their faith and why that is.  I'm guessing they don't want to come off as religious extremists.  Given how many frothing-at-the-mouth lunatics share their faith, this concern is not unfounded.  Even some moderate Christians talk as if everything about Christians is good, honest, just and moral when that simply isn't true.  It's sort of like a rapist bragging about being a true gentleman.

Quote: "Products aimed at children under the age of 2 are being removed from store shelves due to “rare instantances of misuse” that could lead to accidental overdose, a trade group that represents over-the-counter drug makers said."

Another great achievement for the nanny state.  If you're too stupid or lazy to follow the directions, you shouldn't be allowed to have children.  Product directions should be on a written exam you have to pass to receive a breeding permit.  Now kids across the country will just have to suffer.

I had my usual travel anxiety.  This is still something of a mystery for me.  I used to be such a calm flier.  The TSA line was long so we ended up boarding as soon as we reached the gate.  No time to take my anti-anxiety drug.  Every time the engines powered up, I clenched and unclenched my jaws until they ached.  My heart felt like it was being compressed inside a vacuum.  I had a burning, tingling sensation all over my chest as if someone had scraped my skin with a brillo pad.  I caught a short glimpse of the end of the runway as the plane turned.  Another wave of dread hit me as as I realized the moment I hated the most was fast approaching.  The plane accelerated and we were in the air.  Without the aid of their drugs, I was forced to rely on my old coping mechanisms.  I reminded myself that millions of people fly every day without incident.  That the pilots have no interest in dying either.  That I take deadly risks behind the wheel of a car all the time.  That the airlines take safety seriously and accidents would be bad for profits.  That if I wanted to travel, planes are the fastest way to get from A to B.  I still felt like screaming but fear of embarrassment (Of all things!) keeps my lips pressed tightly together.  I took deep breaths and swallowed.  The ascent was mercifully turbulence free and so was the cruising altitude.

The flight attendant started beverage service so I got a cup of coffee.  I downed it along with 2 xanax.  I have never done this before, but given the mild effects of a single dose I did not expect what happened next. I remember gulping down the rest of the coffee because we were descending (it's a short hop from St. Louis to Chicago).  I remember waiting for the connecting flight and a man who looked like a rabbi praying before the flight.  I don't remember getting on the flight or anything else until we start to descend and that's only because my husband woke me up.  I remember talking to a very nice lady who directed us to the courtesy van, but not much of the ride to the ship.  Going through customs and getting my ship ID was a blur.  Our steward was smart enough to see how out of it I was and cut short his explanation of the housekeeping schedule.  I collapsed on the bed and didn't wake up until 5 am the next morning.  I love pharmaceuticals.