Caterwauling

So at church today, they handed out these magenta rubber bracelets from A Complaint-Free World dot-org with the goal that, every time we bitch about something, we have to move the bracelet to the other wrist.

I’m pretty sure I’d need about a dozen bracelets on each arm like I wore in the ’80s because I am pretty sure I complain more than most. Today’s speaker said the average person complains 15-20 times per day. Amateurs! 🙂

As always, I walk out with more questions that I had going into the service. I was looking forward to today’s lecture because it was all about “containing complaining.” And it kills me that the one thing I excel at, is a mortal sin!

I think the most interesting thing I walked away with was that you’re supposed to tell God everything that’s troubling you, and no one else. With others, the best we’ll get is a little sympathy, and the worst is that we share our cup of bad cheer and bring everybody down with us. Which I disagree with in the fact that therapists would be out of a job, for one, and maybe even the fact that friends would be out of a job, too.

Does that make blogging a sin by proxy, then? That God is hurt when you take your problems to everyone but Him, and when you willingly pay your Web host and your statistics service and not tithe that income to the Lord, are you going to burn in the circle of hell reserved for journalists, paparazzi and Perez Hilton?

I guess I tell my friends some of these things because A) They ask, B) They care and C) They answer me when I talk, even if it’s to say that they don’t know how to help me but that they are willing to help me shoulder the burden because I usually come to my own conclusions after hearing myself talk.

Of course, I could also quote a BarlowGirl song, “I Believe in Love,” to answer that last part:

“I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining
I believe in love even when I don’t feel it
And I believe in God even when He is silent.”

I used to know someone who, when you asked her how she was, she always said, “Can’t complain.” And it wasn’t diluted with a, “No one would listen, anyway.” It was a very simple, effective, even jovial, “Life’s good,” kind of vibe.

I always envied her. I never really knew what she was hiding, if anything at all. I always thought, fuck, I’ll complain on your behalf, then. 🙂

But I try to be careful these days of releasing too much negativity into the world. There’s plenty of that already. On the other hand, lately my calm exterior has started popping some leaks, and vitriol spews from random orifices. (There’s an image. Ew.) And then there’s a part of me who starts to understand those who can’t be happy for anyone else — those who have to try to bring everyone down to their low level. I’m not justifying it, mind you, just saying that sometimes you wish others with happy news would be respectful of the fact that you haven’t had a reason to cheer for quite some time.

But then I have to go all “Law of Attraction” here and remember that goodness begets goodness. Experiencing fun and excitement and joy, even if vicariously, takes root in your mind and brings about more positive things. Instead of complaining about what you don’t have, you focus on what you want and wait for the roots to grow so that the things you want will blossom.

I wholly believe that whatever’s in your mind is what manifests into being, so why waste energy on that which is unworthy? You’ve got to picture what exactly it is that you want so that you’ll know it when it comes your way.

In any event, one thing that was said today was that we should be thankful in — and not always necessarily for — all the situations you find yourself in. On the year anniversary of the end of the world, I don’t know that I could ever find a way to be grateful for/in/whatever that event. My prayers weren’t answered. I don’t have evidence that anyone even heard them.

“Though I can’t see my stories ending
That doesn’t mean the dark night has no end
It’s only here that I find faith
And learn to trust the one who writes my days
So I’ll stand in the pain and silence
And I’ll speak to the dark night. “

When I lost my grandmother, I gave up on faith. But when I lost my grandfather, I wanted to find it again so I could question it. I can accept that things are out of our hands, for the most part. I’m happy to give my burdens up to God so He can point me in the right direction toward solving them. I know I’m only here because He wants me to be — that He put some dreams and purpose in me that I have yet to fully realize. That the relationship I need most is the one with Him before I can get any of the others right.

And that He put a whole lot of hot-looking attendees in the church, I think that was his way of saying hey, here’s your reward for getting up early every Sunday. Maybe He really DOES know what’s best for me, and isn’t above a lil bribery to allow me to keep the faith for another week. 🙂

All right, before this becomes a no-complaint zone (tee hee), I have one last bitch to pitch: arbitrary deadlines. Seriously. *kicks arbitrary deadlines*

*moves bracelet over to other wrist*

This shit is going to get real old, real soon. I might just have to slow down the complaining so I don’t have to stop typing to move my wristband.

Oh well, if wristbands get me to be more thankful, and hot men mean I show up in church more regularly, it doesn’t matter how I’m becoming a better person — just so long as I am. Right?

In this season of being thankful, I’m just grateful that things aren’t worse. (Hey, I had to come up with something to be happy about!)

I seem to have developed a case of acid reflux because I’m so behind at work. I had a project delegated far beyond my realm, and I got it back and my brain has since atrophied. Which means, the time that was to have been saved is now being spent salvaging the errant project. And when will I have time for the other project? *pops antacids*

Because I blog when I’m under pressure, I keep thinking about “Grey’s Anatomy” from the other night, how Meredith noted that she was the one who told a woman her husband is going to die, so she’d better come to the scene of the accident to say goodbye to him.

But what struck her is that this is her role in that woman’s story — Meredith would always be the woman who delivered that terrible news to her.

And it makes you wonder who you are in people’s stories, and hopefully it makes them wonder what role they will always play in yours. Are you the friend who kicked someone’s ass when they needed it, the great love who happened along when someone had all but given up, the wrench thrown into an otherwise-working machine or the one who could only wake somebody up by walking away?

I try to forget things and people that didn’t matter. But at the year anniversary of losing my grandfather, I pray that the string of asshole Veterans Hospital doctors, especially the one whose negligence ultimately killed him, feel the ugliness and disappointment that I have for them every day because their role in his life was ending it and the role in my life was ruining it.

Kind of makes you wonder what YOUR impact in others’ lives has been/will be. Personally, I don’t think I have any reason to have someone refer back to me as the crazy one or the useless one, although who only knows what role I have been cast in. I think back on so many people in my past and I guess, for one or two, I just hope that I’m “the one who got away” whom they shouldn’t have let go.

Hell, I look into my present and future, and I hope that I won’t be the one who got away from them, that they are smart enough to figure it out before I lose patience and give up. Further, I hope I’m not left pining because there was something that I didn’t do, either.

The good news is that in different plays, we are cast in different roles. I read a really great article on “Your Jerk Boss is Her Favorite Uncle”, and while I’m lucky to have an awesome boss, it reminds you that the douchebags you deal with in day-to-day living are actually pretty special to someone out there somewhere.

Perhaps it is not that they are downright douchebags after all but, instead, are only capable of douchebaggery when it comes to you but they are the center of the universe to someone else.

Which means that the people who make me slam my head off of blunt objects might be good wives or boyfriends or parents. Just like they probably view me as a cranky perfectionist who makes their lives hell because I demand excellence, they probably don’t know that I’m the person who will hold up traffic because I see a person crossing the street and I won’t move till I know they’ve gotten across safely.

Do we ever really know when we were, in fact, the ones whose existence changed someone’s life for the better? Do any of us who have a list of people we would thank at the Academy Awards ever let them know that they are on that list? Or are we saving it for a time with fanfare, if we ever plan to let them know at all?

It’s sad how people will get on the horn with each other to tell them off because of how they feel they’ve been wronged, but a simple call to say that “You were the reason I improved myself in this way …” is so much harder to make.

I guess the hopeless romantic in me will always be waiting for the one who not only becomes a better version of themselves because of me, but who isn’t afraid to say it. Because not changing someone’s life for the better is a prospect I’m more afraid of facing than death itself.

I have to laugh when my Jewish friends like to read my blog after I attend Christian services, but here goes nothing, as usual. 😉

I wasn’t impressed with the service today, but that would be because I sat in the back row and I STILL had a kid kicking the back of my seat. Seriously. Someone didn’t drop their lil hellions in the playroom and I got stuck with three kids either crawling over our legs in an attempt to get from one aisle to the next, breathing over my shoulder/whispering to siblings or, like I said, kicking my chair.

And I realized I have a loooonnng way to go in becoming as good a child of God as I’m supposed to be. Because I cannot control my anger enough to not picture beating them over the head with a bible and hissing, “Quiet, for Christ’s sake!” 🙂

Perhaps it is, in fact, God’s plan that I do not have any children and will not for the foreseeable future!

Anyway, today’s moral to the story was greater than the message intended to illustrate it was, which was basically that our role is to become a person of impact. And that we all have the talent to do it, so we should be examining how to make our lives purposeful.

The pastor told a story about a man who saved a girl from drowning, and he got an award from the U.S. Coast Guard for it. But the funny part was that the award was never before given to someone who didn’t know how to swim.

Now that was worth the price of admission right there.

Personally, I have someone looking at me and wanting me to fix everything, and I am so FRUSTRATED because I cannot even solve my own fucking problems, let alone find the time and strength to deal with others’ shit that the should be resourceful enough to handle. I look at their problems as not necessarily trivial, but surmountable.

And if I can be making steps toward solving the clusterfuck of a labyrinth that I always seem to find myself wandering around in, why the fuck can’t they handle their own goddamned load? Furthermore, who are they to question us and the decisions we do/don’t make about our own shit when they’re looking at “inertia” as a choice?

I hate this “good Christian” shit. I am so annoyed at the obligations that are put upon us that drain resources away from what we really want to be doing and how we want to be doing it. If we even have time to remember what that was, quite honestly, as I forget what I wanted to do to change the world. I feel like I’m the one who’s drowning and yet hauling ass to pull others ashore and I don’t even know how to swim, either.

But if I stop, does the whole world have to stop, too? Doesn’t anyone take turns trying to get to dry land?

But perhaps the greater message today was that your first purpose on this earth is to behave as a good son or daughter of God. Feel however you want about your life’s predicaments, but do the right thing when it comes down to it because you never know how many more chances you’ll get to not fuck up.

I feel like we all waste those chances, but breaking out of that pattern is perhaps the biggest challenge of my young life so far. I guess I just hope that once I do get on dry land — and I WILL — there’ll be a change of clothes and something else that was worth swimming toward. …

Oceano, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

This might look like hell freezing over or the inside of a meat locker, but no … it’s a delightful lil’ seafood place called Oceano inside the Peppermill hotel in Reno, Nev.

Check out the full photoset here — I put the photos out there unedited because, really, why would I want to tone down the cheese that is a twee wannabe-Vegas gambling town in the mountains?

Sadly, the photos do not do this casino justice. You really have to be there to believe it. In the meantime, my corneas are permanently damaged from this certainly not-eco-friendly eyesore. 🙂

So I don’t want this blog to turn into any more of an existential crisis than it already is, but it was my second week at church, and I’m not quite finding that sense of belonging that I thought would be instant and maybe even imminent.

Today’s message was on marriage and compatibility and understanding our differences and learning to find common ground. Which I guess I could apply to other relationships in my life, but right now, I’m just crabby about the concept because I feel like I’m always the one making the compromises and, frankly, I’m sick of it.

These days, I do things to avoid repercussions — avoiding an argument, dodging a multi-layer guilt trip, escaping somebody looking at me with sad eyes because I’m not the person they expect that I should be. Moreover, I am trying so hard to retain/generate things that make me happy (or would make me happy) and, yet, the feeling that what little shred of sanity I can cling to is ONLY important to me.

Perhaps the most interesting part of today’s message is that women in particular either feel like we’re “not enough” or else we’re “too much.” We’re not pretty/skinny/motivated enough some days and other days we’re too career-focused/self-involved/emotional. They said that men would rather be alone than feel inadequate, and yet women don’t seem to know how NOT to feel inadequate sometimes.

For me, I feel inadequate in this church setting. I’ve gone twice (three if you count the day I came as it was ending) and I have yet to feel any sort of connection to it. Maybe it’s that I’ve spent my life as an agnostic as well as someone who occasionally sticks her nose in a spellbook to figure out how to bring about good things, but I feel like a fraud if I call myself a Christian.

And I couldn’t be at a better church for someone like me — to say it’s not your typical hellfire-and-brimstone approach is an understatement. But I still feel lost. The friend who recommended it, well, I have yet to run into at this place, which I’m almost taking as a sign that I’m basically just going and hanging out somewhere for the sake of killing time.

And while we’ve never made plans to run into each other, I figured I’d at least connect to some side of my spirituality somewhere along the line. But I haven’t, not yet. I’m going to have to miss next week’s session, so if I know me, I probably won’t get up the motivation to go back in two weeks or so.

I feel like I’m going as an escape. That I can have 90 uninterrupted minutes of “me” time — two hours if you add the driving time. And if that’s the case, why not just go to a coffee shop instead?

There’s a mixer for the new people tonight, which I’m skipping. I didn’t plan to skip it. It is still part of my “carving out ‘me’ time” plan to get to know these people I’m sitting next to each weekend. But my time is being demanded elsewhere, and if it saves me a guilt trip or 20 to stare at them like they want me to, then I guess that’s what I have to do, to get some goddamned peace.

I thought I was ready to start my spiritual journey. I really did. But a part of me is wondering whether I’ll ever be ready, because right now I need some guidance and I thought this was the way to go about getting it, but I don’t know. Somehow, I feel more lost than ever when I look up at the sky and wonder whether anyone really is listening.

The real reason I’m annoyed at feeling like I have to miss tonight’s event is because I don’t think I’m going to find God in the sermons. I think I’ll find Him through involvement, interaction, action.

I’m about as well-adjusted as I’m going to get for the time being — but a part of me misses being involved in the non-profit sector because at least I was helping people, from time to time. I don’t get much in the way of that kind of personal satisfaction anymore. Maybe I need to blow the dust off of my fund-raising skills and do what comes naturally instead of (just) forcing myself to show up and not really singing along.

But what I have to wrestle with, when I look at it that way, is why I’m more eager to reach out and connect with perfect strangers than the ones looking right in my face for some level of compassion.

All right, I’m all about procrastinating right now. Which means, blogging!

So, church. I’m not jumping for joy over it right now, but since I’m known for not giving anybody or anything much of a chance before passing judgment, I’m going to take it for what it’s worth and be open to going back. I mean, a church that permits and perhaps even encourages people to wear jeans and Ravens shirts, well, can’t be all bad, right? 😉

Sunday’s sermon was on making things right. It focused more on us as being the ones who did the screwing-up, and while I do more than my fair share of that, I still didn’t walk away with how to forgive people who are 14-karat fuckups, particularly when their asininity bleeds over into my sphere.

One thing the pastor said resonated with me: “Qualifying your apology disqualifies your apology.” And I take that to heart, because I’ve received more half-assed apologies than China has rice, and I’ve probably uttered a few insincere ones in my day just to patch things up and move on already.

I’m big on moving on. The faster, the better. But what I’m finding is that those obnoxious situations tend to follow you wherever you go. And it’s time to put the kibosh on them, once and for all. And if it means that little black cloud has to burst and dump thunder, lightning and rain on me, then fine. Just get it out of your system and go agitate someone else.

The pastor asked us to reflect on when someone truly hurt us, and we were to think about what we would have wanted/needed from that person to make it right so that we could move on.

My list, in no particular order:

• 1. For the offending party to just die already. A gruesome death.
• 2. For the offending party to be tortured mercilessly. And not by me, as I am now a good Christian and all. 😉
• 3. For Karma to kick their ass around the Beltway. Seventy-two times around that 64-mile stretch.
• 4. For the offending party to lose 10 times what they took from me.
• 5. For the offending party to have someone shit on their face the next time they find themselves in the 69 position.

And everybody wonders why I need some religion in my life!

In any event, the message was to think of what the people who have hurt you could/should do to make it up to you, and do that for others you’ve hurt. And maybe even to do it for them, although I’m not ready for that. I may never be.

I’ve got a short list of three people who could move heaven and earth to make it up to me, and I still don’t know that I could change the way I look at them. I’ve searched my soul for what I could have done to elicit the level of abuse that they’ve generated. I can forgive easily, but it’s hard to come to terms with it when it’s stuff people should just know better than to do. It’s one thing to let go of the bad things that were done, but still another to come to terms with how you could have misjudged people so much.

Now with certain others, yeah, I could see where they’d want to kick my ass. But those people aren’t spiteful and hateful about it. Just as I try not to be. I only have so much energy to go around, and I’m trying to use it to better myself than to attempt to exact vengeance for a war that simply cannot truly be won.

The most interesting part of the service was when the pastor read a letter that his pastor friend in Chicago received from an 11-year-old girl whose father was an abusive alcoholic. She, in her wise-beyond-her-years vantage point, said her dad was “a red shirt in a white load of laundry.”

Wow.

Red shirt. White load of laundry.

I just threw in a red shirt with a cream-colored sweater, incidentally. And boy, is that sweater a hideous shade of pink now. And no matter how many times I wash that thing, the color will not come out.

But do I throw it away, keep trying, or simply learn to like what I ended up with?

And if that isn’t the eternal and existential question, I don’t know what is.

The last time I went to church for something other than a wedding, I wanted to stab my eyes out. I went to Easter mass with my best friend and her then-fiance (now husband). So when my friends got wind of the fact that I was contemplating going to church regularly, they declared I was either trying to impress a guy or that I had been dared (because I can never turn down a dare).

They’re half-right. It is for a guy. And that guy being God.

I attended my first service today, as I did have an automotive escapade, but nowhere near last week’s needing of a battery to make the car go. (My antenna got broken in the car wash, so it had to be replaced. I’m ready to start praying for the damn car.)

I have a lot of thoughts on today’s message, which was basically about fixing screw-ups — whether they were yours or not, because you can’t really move forward until you reach some sort of peace or truce, however uneasy it might ultimately be.

I’m not saying I agree with it. But it got me thinking, and I guess that’s what it was supposed to do. And I’m sure it’ll provide plenty of blog fodder for the upcoming week.

Something I’ve got to come to terms with, as an aside, is that there is a strip mall right next to the church, so I’ll be very light on cash if I did what I did today, which was hit every possible store. 🙂 Which brings me to yet another possible reason I may come to like this church thing after all — I get some spiritual enlightenment, and then I shop. Talk about satisfying the target audience! (Or, Tar-zhay audience. Whichever.)

“Maybe I was much too selfish
But baby you’re still on my mind
Now I’m grown and alone
And wishing I was with you tonight.”

— The Wreckers, “Tennessee”

It’s a rare, quiet Saturday night. Summer has gracefully stepped back and allowed fall to blow its draft up our skirts, chilling us to the bone and promising us something different than what we’re used to.

Mercury is also retrograding, so the universe feels a bit off-balance. And yet, it’s seemingly always off-kilter, so I tend to feel less sure when all is supposedly well.

I’ve been noticing something about myself lately, how I can’t seem to finish a project. I don’t think of it as a deficiency, but rather a recognition that my strength is barfing out ideas and letting others figure out the execution part. I’ve been sort of ass-deep in the day-to-day matters, which hasn’t given me much time or leftover creativity to really jump headlong onto paths not yet pioneered.

And therein is my strength — spelunking through the unknown. It’s less daunting than downright enthralling. It’s the whole, “OK, now I know how it works; I must maintain the velocity” where I start to wander.

I don’t finish a lot of things. Or, rather, I finish by passive-aggressive proxy. I get two dozen responses to my dating profile and then stop responding to them all. Hell, I take down the profile so I don’t have to take that next step. I also make a whole lot of friends and then I fall off the earth for myriad reasons. It’s not personal, just business. Seriously. Then I make a whole bunch of new friends because I cannot think of one thing to say to most of the old ones. I can’t pick up a phone without having three things to discuss. I’ve been that way my whole life.

I rarely dial someone just to chat. It’s similar to the trend in business in which we’re gravitating away from voicemail. It’s delayed communication. Hell, half the time, I’m not even at my desk. But an e-mail/IM gets my attention. Maybe not POSITIVE attention, because I hate that I can’t be in a meeting without someone knowing where to find me at all times, but ya know. Talkin’ ’bout my generation and all. 🙂

My past has sort of been in my head lately. Not prominently, but someone from a thousand years ago just had a milestone birthday. Not that I acknowledged it. (He wouldn’t have wanted me to, and I didn’t want to anyway.) It was one of those rare times that I was forced to change direction in mid-sprint — against my own will.

And it’s really (not) funny what it did to me — I meet people I do like, and I talk myself out of it. Immediately, if not sooner. I call it intuition and maybe even self-preservation. You can’t hurt over what probably wasn’t meant for you anyway.

But to my detriment, I can’t attach myself to anything as a result. Don’t get me wrong — I care very deeply about plenty of people, things and tasks. But I’ve also got the escape latch in my hand at all times, because if others aren’t going to invested down the road, I won’t be too hurt about it.

I wonder what life would be like if I didn’t hold myself back by default. I know exactly what’s keeping me from being an outright, smashing success in all areas of my life. But that’s the thing — I identify the problem, I have a thousand creative ways to solve it, and … I start over from a different point instead of working on solving the conundrum du jour. Commitment scares me more than anything because it means I have to work on me, and that means I’m not as perfect as I think I am. 🙂

I’m not sure what I want to do with all this information. Maybe to pick a cause and stick to it. Maybe to justify wiping the slate clean once again. Maybe to WANT to get out of this pattern because it looks terrible in black-and-white. Moreover, maybe to remind myself to finish my battles so that things from the past can stay there and stop rearing their ugly little heads at the least-opportune moments.

I like waking up and looking forward to what each day will bring. What I don’t like is ending a day with thoughts about how I wished that it had gone. But perhaps recognizing that is the first step toward feeling the sense of accomplishment that I seem to prevent myself from enjoying.

With relationships and project goals, I’ve always been a fan of the thrill of the chase. But maybe I’ve gotten it wrong all along — maybe the real thrill is being pumped up from meeting outcomes that will carry me to the next, bigger challenges.

I’ve never been a fan of coloring inside the lines, but if someone could help me to draw some dotted lines as a suggested border, I’d blow them away. But that someone, right now, has got to be me. So, I’m going to start moving in baby steps toward what I KNOW I need to be doing. Like, I need to sign up for an exercise class as opposed to getting myself to the gym “whenever.” I need that “you must be here at this time on this day” regimen.

Similarly, I’m never going to write that novel of my own accord, but I can take a course on how to write one well. And nothing bugs me more than spending money to learn something and not using that knowledge.

Goals are tough for me because I dream big. It can be just as daunting as it is energizing. I envision the endings of my books before I ever type a single word. But setting smaller goals has always annoyed me because it has meant (to me) that I have to scale down my dreams. Which isn’t necessarily true; I know that now. It’s less about thinking smaller than seeing whether the things I think I want are really, well, what I’ll want in the long run.

Some people fear failure. Me, I’m paralyzed by the prospect of success. But no more — I just started a hobby with no real goal other than to enjoy it. But if it takes off and takes me somewhere new, I’m going to fight for it and not let it end up in the heap of “could’ve beens.” Whatever will be, will be, even if I have to go against my very nature to make it so. …

The Racer, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

The Racer, which is the dueling wooden coaster at Kennywood Park in Pittsburgh. This is as close as I get to a roller coaster these days — across the water is near enough!

So the apocalypse was overdue because I was hellbent (ahem) on attending church today.

And I’m not certain why the heavens enjoy smiting me when I’m trying to do some goddamned good in this world, but my car battery? DEAD.

I thought about taking a taxi but that doesn’t solve the greater problem. Assuming the greater problem is having a working car and not trying to secure a place in heaven or anything.

I have two new neighbors, and they were parked next to me. Oddly, they were on THEIR way to church and saw me yelling at my car for sucking ass. And the guy, dressed to the nines for worship, offered to jump me. (Yes, please!) Er, jump the battery. Which worked. And I wondered whether to go straight to church and pray for my piece of shit vehicle (that I JUST paid off!!!) or to ensure I didn’t get stranded again. Alas, the desire to overpay for a battery won out.

I went to a couple of dealerships with full intentions of trading in the jalopy, but nothingvwas open. I went to a few stores and got lucky that one was open. So here I am with a $100 estimate and a two-hour wait. How exciting for me. I am looking entirely too cute to be sitting here, keeping watch over a car I can’t shut off or else it’ll never make it to the service bay. Damn it. And I only have an eighth of a tank of gas, if that.

I was trying to conjure up the reason why everything needs to go awry. Like, maybe I will learn there’s something more serious wrong with the car. Or that maybe those good Christians would have burned my pagan ass on a stake. I dunno. I did meet a really nice guy as I was sitting here. He was showing me his military scrapbook from the Vietnam era. It had been lost for decades and he said it was mysteriously left on his porch recently. It’s full of photos of him with Presidents Eisenhower and Kennedy. Absolutely amazing stuff.

Maybe I was supposed to meet him to restore my faith in good people, as that scrapbook was his treasure. I guess I’ve personally gotten accustomed to people being self-serving, insignificant, greedy, hurtful douchebags. It’s good to know that the good guys really do win if they wait long enough. And it was good to know, for me, to have neighbors who care and a friend to check in to ensure I wasn’t stranded. And in that, maybe there’s the greater message — to not give up on humanity just yet, because the good in the world is far greater than everything else that tries to overshadow it.

So, I just saw a Mexican guy jump in my car and drive off with it. Here’s to hoping he actually works here!!!!