I Wish Life Were Like The Sims

The Sims have it so good.

They get promotions on the first day of work, and if they want another one, all they have to do is paint a picture or play chess for a while.

Every time they apply for a job in the paper, they get hired.

People come over to visit at all times of day, and sometimes they bring presents.

Even the average middle class citizen can afford a maid.

Sometimes when they answer the phone, people give them money instead of asking for it.

Food in the fridge never goes bad, and they only pay for what they take out of it.

Every dresser comes with a complete wardrobe in their size, but there is no laundry to do.

They don't pay for gas. There is always a carpool or bus, and it is always on time.

They never get older.

With enough effort, they can make anyone fall in love with them.

No one makes fun of them when they dance.

When they throw a party, everyone shows up.

It is perfectly acceptable to eat off of the floor.

Every one of them can juggle.

Don't Make Me Go To Work Today...

I don't know if I can take another nine and a half hour day of being yelled at, cussed at, hung up on, threatened, and insulted by the general public. I will have a little help in the office today, until a whopping 2:30 when my Thursday coworker heads for home. This is after she takes a ten to fifteen minute smoke-break, and upon her return to the office says she is clocking out for lunch. So it is just me most of the day, trying to answer all of the phone calls, help all of the counter customers, put up with stupid inquiries from the sales staff, and trying to squeeze my actual job as the Service Coordinator into the middle of it all.

The management does a lot of demanding that we allow fewer customer calls to corporate office, but they don't seem to realize that a lot of these calls come from my not being allowed the time to make the unhappy customers happy again.

Yesterday I was one of two people in the office as usual. I got up from my desk to help a woman at the counter because my associate was on the phone with another customer. The first reaction I got from my customer was in raised and aggitated tones, telling me that SHE was the customer, she was giving ME her money (as if I get to KEEP it), and she would NOT sit around waiting for a delivery for three hours, so I had BETTER make her first stop of the day on the route. I asked her if we could have the drivers call her at work when they were on their way, and that seemed acceptable to her. So while I am typing that note in for the drivers, the phone rings. I answer it and promptly page it to sales. When I hang up, the woman says "That's it. We will just shop somewhere else." I appologized and asked her if there was a problem, and she started screaming. SHE was giving me HER money and I answered the phone. As much as I tried to nicely explain that it was my job, that we can't stop helping our customers after we take their money, and that if she were to call in after she got home she would want us to answer the phone too, she continued her tirade while yanking her young daughter out the front door. I do admit that I failed in one of my required tasks... I forgot to tell her to have a nice day before she left.

So this is what I look forward to again today, and every day. I am stuck. I can't get a better job because I have no college degree and other jobs do not start at what I make now. I can't go to school because they make sure that my retail schedule does not allow consistant time for education, or recreation for that matter.

I am like a helium balloon in a small, heavy box. I don't have room to grow as big as I should be, and I am stuck on the ground when I have the potential to fly.

Helpless Bystander

So I called my poor mother again today. Sweet dear, she never knows quite what to do when her middle child sobs into the phone about how much she hates her life. I know it hurts her to know how bad things are for me and to not be able to help. I know that pouring my miseries out on top of her weighs her down. My problems are something that she carries with her, along with her own, and my brother's, and my sister's, and everyone else's in her life. It only makes me feel worse to know this, but there is nothing I can do.

She's so good, my mother. She never knows what to say or do, but she listens to me go on and on and on, even though she probably can't even understand half of what I say because my voice is caught in my tears. She just listens, and tells me she doesn't know what to say, and she tells me she loves me. Words that I could never have enough of. She does love me, too. I never doubt that.

At times she has been my saving grace. The only one who was there for me during my divorce. When moving out of the apartment I had shared with my husband, she was the one to load all of my belongings into her work van while I stood in the middle of the room and tried to figure out what to grab next. She was the one to pick me up and drive me home when I had my car accident. She was the one to go with me as my witness, twice, to the courthouse for my divorce. The second time she was on crutches, but she hobbled along, determined to see me move on with my life. (I shall have to tell you the story of my marriage and divorce sometime. It is just delightful.) She has lent me her money, her time, her credit, her love, and her shoulder for the past year without fail.

I can't do a thing in return for her. I tell her all the time how much I love her, how much I need her, how much she means to me, and how much I appreciate her presence and support in my life. I do what I can for her, but it isn't much. I think the one thing that I could do for her to make her deeply happy would be to find happiness myself so that she can stop worrying about me. I don't know how or when that will happen. I have made a serious effort this year. I decided that after a crappy year like 2004, 2005 was going to be MY YEAR. So far, I can't say that I'm thrilled.

I really do try to make the best of it. I have been spending more time with my family. I have been trying not to stress about my work so much, and I'm even looking, however unsuccessfully, for other jobs. I signed up for guitar lessons. I planted a garden. I bought hamsters. I started this blog. And yet still I have a dark cloud over my head that rains down my face at night, and I go through more boxes of tissues myself than any small family should.

What would I do without my mom? Who would I ever turn to if I lost her? Who could ever know me the way she does, and love me anyway? Mother's Day is coming up next month. Last year I bought her a curio for her bedroom. This year, I'll be lucky if I can get her some flowers.

I hope that she doesn't feel that she has failed me. Sometimes she is the only thing holding me together. I hope that she doesn't feel that I have failed her. I am not done trying yet.

We All Can Be Blessings

When I was just learning to drive, I longed for as much practice as I could possibly get so that I would be ready to claim my independence. I was out with two of my guy friends one day, and one of them volunteered me to drive the car. I told him that I was nervous, but I did it anyway. Deciding to stop at Kroger for reasons I cannot for the life of me remember, my dear friend in the front seat told me to pull into a parking space right up front with a car parked on either side. Although I made it clear that I was uncomfortable with such a crazy maneuver at this stage in my driving career, I gave in to the pressure of two impatient boys who just could not bear to walk a few extra yards to the entrance. My hands shaking with nervousness, and the guys carrying on next to me, I hit the gas instead of the break. CRUNCH.

With tears streaming down my face like rain I sat on the back of our car between my two friends, who had only just now run out of things to say. It felt like forever that I waited, terrified, for the owner of the car I had hit to come out with his groceries. I just knew that he was going to be a large, angry, pitiless man who would yell at me and call my parents and the police and ruin my life forever. I went as far as to go inside and sit in the bathroom with my hands shaking and the tears still falling. I prayed and prayed for God to help me. I knew He could not undo the events that had occured, but I would take anything I could get.

After a short while longer a woman approached with her shopping cart and quite the confused look on her face. She was a pretty lady, probably in her late thirties and small in stature. My friend started to speak for me but I slid off of the trunk and sobbed the words out on my own. I told her what happened, and how sorry I was, and that I would never drive again. I could not believe my ears when she answered me... "Don't stop driving honey! Making mistakes is how we learn. Now my bumper just matches the rest of my car. It's okay." She gave me the sweetest smile, loaded up her groceries, and off she went.

Of course I didn't give up driving, but I must say it was a long, long time before I drove with anyone other than my mother. What saddens me is that I can assure you this nameless woman does not remember this event from so many years ago, and I can guarantee you that she will never know how much she touched my life. What was for her a simple kind moment that was brushed off and forgotten was for me so much more. I will never forget her, or her kindness towards me. I try to think of it in times when I myself am in the position to pass it along.

These small things happen every day, and no one knows how much they may mean to someone else. I received an unexpected phone call at work from a mere aquaintance within my company who noticed some frustration in an email I sent him about a manufacturer. When I returned home, I found a comment on my first ever blog text from a stranger whom I am sure does not know how much those few words meant to me.

I wonder if in my daily grind today I happened to touch someone's life without knowing it. I wonder if with a word or a simple act that I thought nothing of, I gave warmth, or cheer, or comfort to someone who needed it. I truly hope so.

Gardening Grows the Spirit...

It really does. I should get one of those rocks that says that for my garden. I have put a lot of time and money into my garden lately, because I found out something the other day. I was feeling absolutely miserable, and wanted to go crawl under my bed and live there, but I had bought some seeds so I figured I should plant them. So I sulked into some old clothes, sulked out onto my patio, and sulkily started digging in the dirt. I don't know how much time had passed, but there was a point where I stopped, did a mental inventory on my emotions, and realized that it is dark and scary under my bed, and there are probably spiders. I was actually enjoying myself. In the midst of everything that was going on with my life, I was having fun. Thus began my new hobby.

I don't really know anything about gardening, but I am learning by trial and error. This year I learned that there is a difference between POTTING soil and GARDEN soil. Now there's a crappy mistake. I have to cover up my garden with trash bags when it rains for now, or I will lose everything. But, you live, you learn, you garden, you learn some more. So I bought a CD boom box and some more pots and flowers and all that jazz. I even bought one of those silly things you stick in the ground that is tall and metal and has a fake flower on top; this is nice, because as of yet I have no actual flowers.

As much as this new turn of events has drawn on my bank account, I have realized that it is worth it. Instead of waking up in the morning and feeling like there is no point in getting up, I jump out of bed and hit the patio, carefully examining the soil for any signs of life. I think my neighbors know I'm crazy now... every morning and evening, and several times throughout the day, I am out there watering, and crouching down looking at piles of dirt like someone who just accidentally burried their contact lense.

Today my efforts paid off. Three of the kinds of flowers I planted have started to poke up into the sunlight and stretch their little green arms out in delight. Maybe it is silly that I get so much joy from this. I mean, I didn't really DO anything. I just dropped some seeds into some dirt. Mother Nature has been growing seeds on her own since the beginning of time. But yet, I get some internal sense of pride, excitement, and joy out of seeing those little green sprouts. I feel like I have accomplished something. I feel like I have brought life into the world. I feel... good.

My garden doesn't exactly look like the cover of Apartment and Garden magazine, but it is mine. No one told me how to plant it, and I put my heart into it. I look forward to getting off of work at the end of the day now. Instead of wondering what I am going to do with myself until it is time for bed, I am thinking about how many new little green leaves of happiness I will see when I get home. If you don't have a garden, or the space for one, plant a seed in a pot and love it. You would be unbelievingly surprised at how much it heals a wounded soul.