Blurbs

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate being manipulated? No? Well, let me explain…

I don’t mind being asked for favors, really, I relish it because it makes me feel important, and needed, and useful, and I do like doing things for people. But I abhor when people try to get me to do things in a backhanded way, guilt-tripping, dropping hints, being wishy-washy…

Hate it.

Especially with my clients. It’s one thing to have a sad story and I’m going to feel bad regardless of what the outcome it, but when you try to use that sad story to get me to do favors for you, then my sympathy turns to anger, real-ass-quick. Because not only and I not willing to lose my job so you can get more faster, I’m not willing to sell my soul for a months’ worth of benefits.

Which makes me think of a conversation I had recently with my dear husband, (whom I love dearly and have to do something real nice for Valentine’s Day because he’s been living with a bitch-and-rant wife for the last week. Sorry Punkin) in which we tried to figure out if the end result really can justify the means.

If I do something bad, maybe illegal, or just grimy, is it balanced out by the fact that I’m doing it for a good reason? Which then begs the argument of if I do something good, but for a crappy reason, where do I stand karmically?

This sounds familiar… but I have it running through my head constantly, slapping my brain around like the little loose end of a movie in an old-school projector.

***

And I also wanted to ask, like, why do I still get my jollies seeing men oogle sometimes, even when they are a bit skeevy? One double take can get my mind out of a downward spiral as long as he isn’t too creepy, but if he’s with his lady-friend, it pisses me off.

***

I was talking to a coworker the other day, one who drives 2 Mercedes and is always coming to work with designer bags and such. She commented on my boots, and I started bragging that I had bought them years ago at Payless for like $12. She got this shocked look on her face and told me I shouldn’t talk so loud so people wouldn’t know they were so cheap. And I had to tell her, Girl, I am damn proud of my $12 boots that after 5 tears they still get compliments. But she just looked flabbergasted, like, how the hell can you be proud to be wearing such cheap shoes?. Hehe.

It got me thinking though of my pipe-dreams to drive a nice car and carry a Prada purse. I really don’t know what I would do if I was rich. I joke around that I would buy an x5, but really? I don’t know if I could live with myself paying so much for a freaking car. I mean, I drive 20 minutes to and from work every day. And that includes going home at lunch to eat. I’d be juiced to get a Highlander Hybrid and a pair of real leather boots, and then I’d have probably $40k left over, instead of buying a luxury car. Yes, it would be nice, but I don’t give a damn what the Joneses think of me, they’ve seem by POS Mazda every day for the last 3 years, and I don’t think a nice car will change the bargain lover that I am at heart.

Laaa-deee-deee-daaaa….

I’m waiting to go to an all-day training, so excuse the blurbs. No time to get into the nitty-gritty details of something. Except!

In my mind: hard work + sacrifice = rewards.

Except in my life: hard work + sacrifice – fun = debt

Whatever happened to being rewarded for your hard work? Doesn’t it sometimes feel like we work, and work, and work, and we don’t ever go anywhere? I work 160 hours per month, and all I’ve been able to do with that is pay down my debt. Credit card, mortgage, school loans… I feel like I’m working for nothing, but then if I wasn’t working, I’d be screwed. I wanted to wait to have another baby until the credit cards were halved, and my school loans were paid off, but DAMN GINA. I don’t want my kids to be 10 years apart!

*sigh*

No one ever told me being an adult would be so hard. But I do have to be appreciative for what we have, because every night in Marin, there are 1600 people who don’t have a home. And that doesn’t include people who share a room between themselves and their kids, paying $500 per month to have ONE ROOM. They work, and they have nothing to show for it. They can’t go to school to better themselves, because they have to work to feed their kids.

I’m going to find a volunteer venture. I’m not sure what yet, but I have too much to not give back. I feel better now.