Well, this isn't a humorous post. It might not even hold your attention to the end. But sometimes, you just have to talk until you get everything out, you know?
I don't have many friends. It's weird. I pass through people's lives, or maybe I should say they pass through mine. I don't fight with them. Most of them I get along with quite well. For a season. And then, it's like extinguishing a candle. At some point, there's nothing left but a plume of smoke and an acrid smell. And darkness. And I'm alone again. Until the next one cycles through.
Lately, I've felt a real disconnect from some people in my life that I'd call friends. We've become occasional email buddies. I know what happens next. The emails revert to forwarded jokes or chain emails...first with little notes attached...and eventually not even that.
I know it's probably my fault. Maybe it's some kind of personality flaw. Maybe I just have a hard time relating to others. Maybe I withdraw. My husband doesn't like to socialize. He doesn't like for me to do anything without him. So I don't. So there's not much interaction with anyone unless it's at work or through email. That's my life. That's one of the reasons I enjoy my work so much. It's a bigger outlet than anyone could understand.
There are so many people that I remember fondly. That I miss terribly. That I regret losing contact with for whatever reason. Sometimes I think maybe God sends them to me or me to them to meet some need or whatever, and once the mission's accomplished, it's just time to move on. That's just the way it's meant to be. It's very lonely and isolating, though. Sometimes I question why I can't stick it out with a friend over the long haul just once, and I get mad at myself. I hope I've never hurt anyone with the disconnect. I certainly never meant to do so.
There are so many days that I feel like I'm drifting through life on a raft...watching it all slip past me. It's a really rotten feeling. It's those times when I wonder if there's anyone out there that will remember me or that I've had an impact on, the way others have impacted me. Or am I just that nameless face that came and went?
Friday, October 19, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Go West, Southern Girl! Part Two
You can take a Southern Belle out of the South, but be certain that drawl will follow her everywhere! That's one accent we didn't hear from anyone else during our trip.
There is so much to see and do in San Francisco. It's very much geared to the outdoor life, and so beautiful. I wish we'd had more time to take in the sights, but we did what we could with the little time we had. Heck, we even went to the conference that was the reason for our trip!
Have you been on a cable car? Well, we never had, and we were determined to try it out. We just didn't know how you even begin to board one or pay for the ticket. So, we approached 3 ladies that were waiting at a stop. They were locals, and they explained to us that when a car stops, you look for an empty spot and jump on. Then you pay the man when he asks you for your ticket. $5 a ride. Sounded simple enough. So we waited. The car pulled up and it was bursting at the seams with people, but those 3 ladies went toward it, so we did, too. The man said at first that there were 3 spots. We saw the ladies disappear, and began to turn back toward the curb. The man on the car proceeded to yell at us to come back. Guess 3 really translates to 6 somehow. Now, the cars have seats, and they have poles to hold onto. The seats in the front of the car face out to the sides. So, if you get onto the side of the car and hold onto a pole, you are essentially right in the face of the person sitting in the seat. I found myself up close and personal with a lady who only spoke German. It was quite uncomfortable, as both of us were having our personal space invaded and this clanging car was rumbling up the hills with the cold wind blowing over us. But we smiled at one another anyhow.
My fellow travellers found spots on the other side of the car. They stood in the personal space of a local couple. The man told them that they seldom asked pretty girls to pay for a ticket. I had my money in my hand. But the thing about it was that the cable car operator disembarked midway through our ride, and another man took his place. So we were able to stop at Lombard St., the most crooked street ever, and didn't have to pay. I heard the story then from the girls. Being the person that I am, I kept my money securely in my hand. When we got on another car, my co-workers were clearly upset and incredulous when we were asked for our tickets. I dutifully handed my money over. They dug theirs out of their purses, and then they fussed about it for the rest of the trip. The nerve of him to ask them to pay!
I thought it was funny. I didn't say anything, but laughed to myself. The fact that they were so disgusted that they had to actually pay for public transportation wasn't the best part...it was that they were upset that this guy apparently didn't think they were pretty! So I got to hear all their perceived faults as they commiserated. I thought to myself what an odd thing that was, how different we were. I was just thankful that I got that first trip on the house!
The best thing about the cable car was watching them manually turn it on a large wooden turntable at the end of the line, so that it could go in the opposite direction. Everyone has to get off the car for them to turn it. Guess what that means? You get to pay again to ride back the way you just came! Oh, but you can pay $11 and ride all day. Or...you can build your gluteus muscles and try to walk up and down all those hills on your own! Not many fat people, I noticed! There were buses and taxis also, but you just have to experience the sardine effect of the cable car to appreciate it. How they ever actually manage to get to the top of the hills with all those people on board is a feat in itself. How no one manages to get knocked off and killed when two cars pass each other is beyond me.
My best advice if you just have to give it a try...make the attempt to get one of the seats. It's a much safer feeling than standing on the side of the car. And take a shower before you board....and pray that everyone else did the same!
There is so much to see and do in San Francisco. It's very much geared to the outdoor life, and so beautiful. I wish we'd had more time to take in the sights, but we did what we could with the little time we had. Heck, we even went to the conference that was the reason for our trip!
Have you been on a cable car? Well, we never had, and we were determined to try it out. We just didn't know how you even begin to board one or pay for the ticket. So, we approached 3 ladies that were waiting at a stop. They were locals, and they explained to us that when a car stops, you look for an empty spot and jump on. Then you pay the man when he asks you for your ticket. $5 a ride. Sounded simple enough. So we waited. The car pulled up and it was bursting at the seams with people, but those 3 ladies went toward it, so we did, too. The man said at first that there were 3 spots. We saw the ladies disappear, and began to turn back toward the curb. The man on the car proceeded to yell at us to come back. Guess 3 really translates to 6 somehow. Now, the cars have seats, and they have poles to hold onto. The seats in the front of the car face out to the sides. So, if you get onto the side of the car and hold onto a pole, you are essentially right in the face of the person sitting in the seat. I found myself up close and personal with a lady who only spoke German. It was quite uncomfortable, as both of us were having our personal space invaded and this clanging car was rumbling up the hills with the cold wind blowing over us. But we smiled at one another anyhow.
My fellow travellers found spots on the other side of the car. They stood in the personal space of a local couple. The man told them that they seldom asked pretty girls to pay for a ticket. I had my money in my hand. But the thing about it was that the cable car operator disembarked midway through our ride, and another man took his place. So we were able to stop at Lombard St., the most crooked street ever, and didn't have to pay. I heard the story then from the girls. Being the person that I am, I kept my money securely in my hand. When we got on another car, my co-workers were clearly upset and incredulous when we were asked for our tickets. I dutifully handed my money over. They dug theirs out of their purses, and then they fussed about it for the rest of the trip. The nerve of him to ask them to pay!
I thought it was funny. I didn't say anything, but laughed to myself. The fact that they were so disgusted that they had to actually pay for public transportation wasn't the best part...it was that they were upset that this guy apparently didn't think they were pretty! So I got to hear all their perceived faults as they commiserated. I thought to myself what an odd thing that was, how different we were. I was just thankful that I got that first trip on the house!
The best thing about the cable car was watching them manually turn it on a large wooden turntable at the end of the line, so that it could go in the opposite direction. Everyone has to get off the car for them to turn it. Guess what that means? You get to pay again to ride back the way you just came! Oh, but you can pay $11 and ride all day. Or...you can build your gluteus muscles and try to walk up and down all those hills on your own! Not many fat people, I noticed! There were buses and taxis also, but you just have to experience the sardine effect of the cable car to appreciate it. How they ever actually manage to get to the top of the hills with all those people on board is a feat in itself. How no one manages to get knocked off and killed when two cars pass each other is beyond me.
My best advice if you just have to give it a try...make the attempt to get one of the seats. It's a much safer feeling than standing on the side of the car. And take a shower before you board....and pray that everyone else did the same!
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Go West, Southern Girl! Part One
I must begin this post with a confession. Travel is not one of my strong suits. I adore the travel channel because it's the closest thing I get to a vacation. There are many reasons for this. I'm a workaholic. Big time. I'm the mother of a toddler who loves his routine. Big time. I'm married to a man that doesn't particularly like to do the tourist thing, and our ideas of vacation couldn't be more opposite. One of the downsides to our relationship. But I digress.
This past week, I got the opportunity to attend a conference for work. I went to San Francisco. My first ever trip to California. I was only there for 3 days, but I gathered a lot of blogging material!
I caught a cold right before I left town. Nothing major, just a general nuisance. I made a very painful discovery, though. When an airplane descends from its cruising altitude, havoc is wreaked on already swollen and painful sinuses. A searing, sharp, intense pain cut down my face and neck on four different occasions as I made my way there and back home again. Good times. I've been home for 3 days, and my ears are still popping and crackling as though Rice Krispies have set up housekeeping in their canals.
I also learned the meaning of jet lag. I traveled across 3 times zones. I know it's child's play for many people, but you have to remember I've never done this. I arrived home at 9pm Thursday night, and I had a to be at a meeting in Kentucky (an hour and fifteen minutes from my house) at 7am Friday morning. It is now Sunday. I still haven't recovered. Well, there is the little matter of the cold, and another female inconvenience that I will not elaborate on, as it's unladylike enough that I even mentioned it all. I'm one tired belle!
I saw some really amazing things, though, and I'm glad I had the opportunity to go. I was there with two of my co-workers. They're from Georgia. Three Southern girls out on their own! I will elaborate further in additional posts to come.
As for San Francisco, I made a little game of identifying jobs that would guarantee you could make a living there, based on my observations. In no particular order, here they are:
1. Hairstylist. It gets way windy there! The three of us had what we thought were wind-defying hairsprays in our arsenals, but not one of them survived the streets of San Fran!
2. Brake mechanic. Hills of the roller-coaster variety lend themselves to some cars in need of frequent brake jobs.
3. Orthopedic surgeon. Walking those hills are hard on the knees. And a lot of people are walking there. Knee replacement, anyone?
4. Back pack sales. Seemed like all the locals carried one. Why? It's warm in the morning, and windy and chilly at night. Hence the need to carry a coat and a place to put it as you traverse the roller coaster hills.
5. Coat and scarf sales. Something us Southern folk rarely need and I really didn't expect to be so popular on the west coast. But that October wind is really cold!
This isn't the best of the Go West posts, but I had to start somewhere. Stick around because the best is yet to come!
This past week, I got the opportunity to attend a conference for work. I went to San Francisco. My first ever trip to California. I was only there for 3 days, but I gathered a lot of blogging material!
I caught a cold right before I left town. Nothing major, just a general nuisance. I made a very painful discovery, though. When an airplane descends from its cruising altitude, havoc is wreaked on already swollen and painful sinuses. A searing, sharp, intense pain cut down my face and neck on four different occasions as I made my way there and back home again. Good times. I've been home for 3 days, and my ears are still popping and crackling as though Rice Krispies have set up housekeeping in their canals.
I also learned the meaning of jet lag. I traveled across 3 times zones. I know it's child's play for many people, but you have to remember I've never done this. I arrived home at 9pm Thursday night, and I had a to be at a meeting in Kentucky (an hour and fifteen minutes from my house) at 7am Friday morning. It is now Sunday. I still haven't recovered. Well, there is the little matter of the cold, and another female inconvenience that I will not elaborate on, as it's unladylike enough that I even mentioned it all. I'm one tired belle!
I saw some really amazing things, though, and I'm glad I had the opportunity to go. I was there with two of my co-workers. They're from Georgia. Three Southern girls out on their own! I will elaborate further in additional posts to come.
As for San Francisco, I made a little game of identifying jobs that would guarantee you could make a living there, based on my observations. In no particular order, here they are:
1. Hairstylist. It gets way windy there! The three of us had what we thought were wind-defying hairsprays in our arsenals, but not one of them survived the streets of San Fran!
2. Brake mechanic. Hills of the roller-coaster variety lend themselves to some cars in need of frequent brake jobs.
3. Orthopedic surgeon. Walking those hills are hard on the knees. And a lot of people are walking there. Knee replacement, anyone?
4. Back pack sales. Seemed like all the locals carried one. Why? It's warm in the morning, and windy and chilly at night. Hence the need to carry a coat and a place to put it as you traverse the roller coaster hills.
5. Coat and scarf sales. Something us Southern folk rarely need and I really didn't expect to be so popular on the west coast. But that October wind is really cold!
This isn't the best of the Go West posts, but I had to start somewhere. Stick around because the best is yet to come!
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