Month: June 2010

My Worst Post So Far

A few days ago I wrote the ugliest post ever. I deleted it. It was bitter and nasty and mean. I sounded like a judgmental, envious whore. You see, because of much pestering, I reactivated my stupid facebook. One of my “friends” on there posts pictures almost every day of her beautiful house or the beautiful scenery surrounding it. She’s my friend, so I should be happy that she’s happy. Right?

Instead, I was bitter. Bitter that I’ve tried to be responsible and independent and do things the “right” way yet I’m broke and living in my parents’ basement. Bitter that she lives in a beautiful house on beautiful land and doesn’t have to work at all. Bitter that the husband she cheated on for the almost-year that I knew her gives her everything she wants. When she bitched to me about her husband and how he couldn’t do anything right, I simply asked, “Why don’t you get divorced? You don’t have kids, you hate him, and you’ve been cheating on him for almost a year.” She looked at me like I was an alien and said, “I’ve never been on my own.” I believe at the time I told her she should try it, that being on your own can be a pretty liberating experience.

In retrospect, I look pretty f-ing stupid.

But the more I thought about it, I realized I shouldn’t be bitter or nasty. Because if I had her life presented to me, I wouldn’t take it. You might be saying, “Oh, sure, that’s easy to say!” But no, I could have had it. Or one like it. And when faced with that decision, I knew the last thing I wanted was to pretend to love someone I couldn’t stand just so I could be a “princess.”

And that’s what really got me thinking: I don’t understand these people who can use others for their money for years and years, because I have a hard enough time being nice to people I actually like.

Light bulb time. I’m just going to come out and say it: I’ve been used a lot. I make it easy for people; I have a generous personality and gifts, etc. are how I express affection or friendship. Sometimes I send things to people I barely know, just in the hopes it’ll brighten their day. A good friend of mine jokingly diagnosed me with HPS – Helping People Syndrome. But enjoying helping people doesn’t mean I enjoy being used. I consider myself a relatively smart person so I struggle trying to understand how I can be duped so often. My princess friend unknowingly helped me realize that I don’t recognize when it’s happening because I can’t relate to it. I can’t imagine living that way, thinking that way. Therefore I can’t imagine that anyone I would keep company with would think that way either.

Unfortunately, looking back and looking around, the people I “keep company” with…all think that way. That’s how they all were drawn to me.


How Many Times…

…must I keep asking: “What the hell is wrong with people?”

Even though today is Sunday, I was excited about going to work. My clients today were kids and kids are usually a lot of fun to work on. I had an eight-year-old boy and his twelve-year-old sister scheduled.

From the moment they walked through my door (the sister brought a friend) it was mayhem. I handed the forms to the mom to fill out and her kids were already sticking their grubby hands in my diffuser water, touching my crystals and rattling them around, and then got the great idea to drop some of my rose quartz crystals INTO my misting diffuser. The mom was oblivious, filling out the forms.

The boy went first. His mom came in the therapy room with us, which isn’t unusual. For legal reasons, I tend to prefer the parent in the room, supervising. However, that meant that the sister and her friend were unsupervised in my office. Clacking my crystals. Walking around. Getting footprints on my yoga mat. I heard a beep and said, “Someone is on my treadmill and they need to not be.” So the mom got up from her texting and went to tell them to sit down. I apologized to my little client and told him I understood it wasn’t very relaxing for him with all the noise out there. Not to mention massage is as much energy-based as it is physical touching. I tried my best to give a relaxing massage but I was wound so tight I know it wasn’t the massage I wanted to give.

The girls stayed seated for all of about two seconds. The mom, too busy texting. Then I heard the signature sound of someone striking one of my crystals bowls. My hundreds-of-dollars-worth crystal bowls. I was pissed and said, “They need to get away from those bowls NOW.”

The mom again went out and told them to sit down or go out in the car. I think that lasted a few minutes. By that time, the little boy’s session was over.

Now it was time for the sister. The sister who was noisy and trying to break everything in my office. She was kind of pouty and I should have said I wouldn’t work on her. I was mad, she was mad, it was just a bad situation all around. I’ve had kids nervous about getting massage for the first time, but they never act so tortured. I tried kind of clearing myself, resolved to give a good massage; after all, I was as mad at the mom for being an incompetent parent as I was at the girl for being an inconsiderate brat. (For those of you wondering, my little dude client went to wait in the car; he mentioned during his massage his dogs were in there and I think he was concerned about leaving them alone.) I’ve had many tense clients, who once they realize they are tense, relax. I’ve never had a client “fight me.” I lifted her arm to work her triceps and she resisted. I could see her muscles flex. I couldn’t help but smile because the whole thing was so stupid. Her entire body was tense, hunched up, and every time I tried moving a joint, she outright resisted.

I do children at a discount because I believe massage is important and, like I said before, they’re usually a blast to work with. The mom paid me–no tip, but that’s neither here nor there–and they left without saying much. I think the mom was still busy with her texting.

I have no proof of this, but I think today’s session actually cost me money. I leave my purse under my desk and when I went to put some money (from something unrelated) into my wallet, I counted my 20s. I think I’m missing one or two.

Goodbye, Hellsing

Hellsing, volume 10, has been released in English. Volume 10. The final volume.

I’m sure many of you already know that I love Hellsing–I love the manga, I love the Ultimate anime, I love just sitting and thinking about Hellsing in my brain.

The final volume. The END of Hellsing.

About halfway through, tears started falling. Because I kept re-realizing this was the end. The final scenes. I would never read another Hellsing manga for the “first” time. It was the end and it was glorious and perfect.