Ch-ch-ch-changes...

I told Brent this morning that I feel like Bruce Banner. The secret is that I'm always angry.

It's like this low simmering rage that is just under the surface at all times right now. I have a very short fuse. You want to piss me off? I could give you a list of things that would do it. And some of them will be things like, breathing.

I'm pretty sure it's menopause. He thinks it could be Trump. Which made me laugh.

Which keeps him off the list of things that will piss me off.

Seriously though, it's tough. The rush of hormones is no joke. I wake up in the middle of the night with a puddle in the middle of my chest I've been sweating so much. I'm pretty sure this is where the stories of spontaneous combustion come from.

And then because I'm an insomniac anyway the added bonus of night sweats and menopause induced insomnia means even less sleep than normal which means an even shorter fuse. It's crazy.

My mother hit menopause when I hit puberty. It was not a fun house to be in. So at least I've got that going for me. It's only attitude from Alexa that will set me off. And YES she gives me fucking attitude, you should hear her.

Listening to an interview this morning with Judd Apatow about his show on Gary Shandling and how he was always looking for ways to be zen because he needed it. Then they mentioned George Harrison and how everyone thinks of him as the quiet Beatle because of the meditation and the way he held himself, but he wasn't the quiet Beatle, he was the angry Beatle and he used the meditation and the quietness to keep from snapping at everyone. I've always liked George the best. (not even kidding there, I always have)

And the real kicker is that this is just the beginning. I've been in perimenopause for a few years now. The symptoms have really stepped up over the last year but since I haven't yet skipped even a single cycle (they are no longer as regular as clock work but the hits just keep on coming) I'm probably in for a few more years of this.

Nobody talks about it. Or at least not enough. I feel like all of the normal fluctuations women go through get just a broad brush stroke. It's a big reason why I've posted about periods and hormones and the menopause symptoms I'm starting to get. We really need to normalize the conversation around what we go through monthly, and the changes we go through as we age. Either in to puberty or when we first go on or off birth control hormones, or during and after pregnancy and when the factory starts to shut down the hormone line. Women need to know what is normal so they don't freak out when the voice in their head all of a sudden tells them to ram their grocery cart in to the dude who just stepped in front of them without even looking.

I mean, if you didn't already have a few hundred voices in your head that sort of thing might freak you out. Me? I just thought...well no wonder I was such and angry teenager. This hormone shit is not to be fucked with in me.

The problem is, as I also told Brent, I'm just as angry as I was in high school but now I can afford a gun. And he said, "And you go to the gym and lift weights so you are a lot stronger." Which made me think for a second, "But I'm not sure I could take a punch in the same way." He replied, "You wouldn't recover from it as quickly, that's for sure."

Which is true. But that doesn't mean it didn't piss me off to be reminded of it...

Just kidding.

Really.

Mostly.

Keep Brent in your thoughts and prayers...the ch-ch-ch-changes are a'coming!

Change Your Mind...

Listening to a podcast from "You Are Not So Smart" this morning at the gym about hypocrisy. Or more correctly about how people don't think they are being hypocrites because they don't remember that they used to think something else.

Really weird right?

But it was all about how beliefs shift and change and because memory is so flexible we don't remember that we used to think something different. We truly believe that what we think right now is what we have always thought. What we believe is what we have always believed. That we are the staunch morally certain pillars of life.

I say we in the general here. Because I'm not in that we. I know that what I believe right now would have been anathema to what I believed growing up. And because I know that I shifted so drastically then I know that I still shift now. It's actually something that I rail against here and in conversation all the time. When you learn new things you should change your mind. Disregarding facts because they don't support your opinions is horrific. People need to think more and feel less.

It made me wonder if that position was unique to people who had a giant shift in beliefs like I did. I cannot say that I have always believed the same things because I know that's not true. I know that I believed that being gay was a choice. I know that even after I started to doubt that it was a choice, it took awhile for the new belief that it's how you are born to take root. And that even after I believed that, my belief in marriage equality lagged behind. Things that nobody would ever doubt I believe in now, strongly and passionately and unwaveringly, I wavered on for a long time. There are a host of other things just like that. Spanking children for instance.

So is it just because I had a foundational shift in what I believed that I am okay with changes now? And that I recognize that we all are hypocrites sometimes? 

It was an interesting podcast to listen to, I recommend their whole series I listen on Castbox on my phone, by the way.  But anyway, this was an interesting one for sure. It will hopefully make me less frustrated when I see someone who has clearly shifted their position but is acting like they've always felt that way. I will try my best to remember that they really think they have. That they would be shocked to be presented Tim Russert style with a quote from them saying something different. And hopefully it will also open up a lot of other minds to the fact that change is good and normal. That when we know more things we believe different things.

I'm not a flip flopper, I'm a constant learner.

I'm not indecisive, I'm flexible.

When I know better, I do better. (Thank you. Ms. Angelou)

Always the Bridesmaid...

"...so, yeah, I think August."

"What do you think about August?" Grace had caught only the end of the sentence as she joined her friends at the table.

"Shane's and Julie's wedding. I think it's going to be in August. The Save the Dates aren't out yet, but her sister said August."

Grace looked puzzled, "What? I thought they broke up?"

Angela shook her head, "Nope, where did you hear that? They got engaged last week."

"Hunh," Grace shrugged her shoulders,"It must be someone else then and I just got it crossed in my head."

Lori broke in, "Do you think she will ask any of us to be bridesmaids? I cannot afford to be a bridesmaid for anyone this year. So neither of you get engaged okay?"

And with that the discussion turned to the cost of dresses and parties and gifts and the "honor" of being a bridesmaid, not that any of them would turn down a friend, but still, it was so expensive.

"The worst is the destination wedding. Three years ago girls from college got married in Las Vegas, Hawaii and Bermuda! And it's not like you can choose based on where you'd rather go. Once you say yes to Vegas you are locked in to the others, right?"

"No, I think if it's too far away you can regretfully turn down the offer."

"Maybe you can," Angela told Lori, "But the rest of us can't."

"Why not?" Lori was puzzled, "If it's too expensive, it's too expensive. People understand."

"People understand when you do it, when the rest of us do it we lose a friend. Right, Grace?"

Grace nodded, "It's true. For whatever reason people are fine with whatever you do, the rest of us get judged if we don't go."

Lori was completely baffled, "That's bullshit. You can't expect people to pay for a trip just because you decided that your hometown wasn't worthy of your wedding. Have you seriously had a friend get mad about you not going?"

"Oh yeah. Remember Aurora, the girl I worked with at Abercrombie?" asked Grace.

"Who could forget Aurora." Angela smirked.

"She was fine. Well I thought she was fine, but yeah, she stopped talking to me when I didn't go to Los Angeles for her wedding. And I wasn't even in the wedding. I was just invited. And we hadn't even worked together for years."

"That's insane. People are so weird about weddings. Promise me if either of you decide to do a fancy destination wedding you won't get mad if I don't come."

Angela laughed, "Nobody ever gets mad at you for not coming, though, so you are off the hook!"

"Okay, not that I agree with that, but how about if we just all agree nobody gets married this year at all? I am seriously broke and cannot be in another wedding even if it were in my own backyard!"

Angela nodded, "Well I think that's easy to promise for me at least. I haven't been on a date in ages. Grace, how about you? Did your Saturday night look promising?"

Grace turned her head sharply, "What?"

"Your Saturday night date. You said you had plans last Saturday, I assumed it was a date?"

She relaxed, "Oh yeah, that, nope, no worries there for marriage plans."

"Then we are good. No bridesmaids duties from any of us this year." Lori held her hand out to shake, "Of course now that we promise this one of us will meet our perfect match on the walk home."

Grace's phone vibrated a text notification.

Angela said, "Or that's Grace's Saturday night date begging for another chance!"

They all laughed while Grace checked her phone then dropped it in to her purse.

She didn't pull it back out until she got home.

"U up?"

She stared at the screen for a long time before responding.

"Just got home. Was out with the girls talking about August plans."

She watched the dots moving on her screen for a long time. Imagining him typing and then deleting his message over and over.

"So about that..."

Her stomach clenched and she was sure she was going to throw up. About that...

No, her Saturday night date wasn't going to go anywhere. There was a reason she hadn't told anyone who she was going out with last week. She couldn't even count the number of times he'd shown up on her doorstep swearing that this time it was over with him and Julie and she was really the one he wanted. She fell for it every time and every time she ended up like this, sick and lonely and feeling like a fool.

Engaged? He got engaged to Julie and then came to her bed for, for what? To make sure? Just because he could? Because he knew she wouldn't say no? She wouldn't even ask too many questions because she didn't really want to know the truth. No more. It was too much. She couldn't afford to be the bridesmaid anymore.

She picked up her phone again and hit a few keystrokes.
Delete Contact Information "Shane"?

......

Circle of Life...

"Is that a tattoo?" He asked tracing the small red lips on her shoulder.

She laughed. He would never be able to get enough of that laugh. It was like the bubbles in champagne. The promise of nectar. He smiled, she was turning him into a romantic.

"No, it's not a tattoo."

"Really? It's so perfectly shaped. Is it a birthmark?"

"A scar. I've had it since I was a toddler."

"That's an amazing shape for a scar. A perfect kiss on your shoulder."

She laughed again, "Something like that."

He drifted off to sleep. She watched him breathing, running her finger over the raised ridge on her shoulder. A kiss, she shook her head and smiled to herself.

....

She had been three years old when her mother took her to Ireland to meet her great grandmother. Gram was too old and too stubborn to fly. That is what she had overheard her grandmother tell her mother. At three she was not sure why being stubborn meant you couldn't fly. She was very stubborn, so everyone said, but she was going to fly.  Her grandmother was not going to go with them. She was also too stubborn. It seemed to be a family trait. They had green eyes, pale skin, and a stubborn streak as deep as the red of their hair.

Her great grandmother had not cared for her. She spoke no Gaelic. She didn't even have a trace of an accent. She was American through and through. When she would talk to her great grandmother a fleeting look of disappointment would cross her face before she could control it. She overheard her mother and Gram talking.

"She's precocious. Very smart for a three year old. But she doesn't know who she is."

"This is who she is, Gram. When Ma left for America she never looked back. We were raised to be American first, not Irish-American, she worked very hard to make sure we had no trace of her accent, nothing to hold us back or mark us as different. But I want something more for her. I want her to understand where she comes from. Where her family came from. It's not her fault she doesn't know. It's not my fault I didn't know how to tell her."

"How did hiding your accent work? Did it change who you were? Did it change who she is? Foolish woman. Wanting to hide who she is with a different way of talking."

"That's why I'm here, Gram. Please, don't take it out on your great granddaughter. I found the letters begging Ma to bring me when I was born. How it was important. I know you are still angry that she didn't. But I'm here now. We are here now. Look at her, she's yours too."

...

"So you're Irish?"

She had gotten used to the question. Her great grandmother had been right, there was no hiding it. She had dark red hair, bright green eyes and the palest skin. Sometimes people would guess Scottish just to be different, but mostly it was assumed she was Irish. She didn't go out on Saint Patrick's Day because people would stop her and ask for pictures, like she was Irish just for their prop. But, yes, she was Irish.

She was also incredibly lucky. The wits in her life told her she must be half leprechaun. She would smile and tell them leprechauns weren't really lucky. They were greedy. People assumed they were lucky because of the story about the pot of gold, but in the story it's who ever finds the leprechaun that was lucky, not the leprechaun. She usually left off the warning that finding a leprechaun and stealing its gold was never a good idea anyway. Leprechauns would do anything to protect that gold. Greedy. Not lucky. Greedy.

But she was not half leprechaun and did have amazing luck. She led an interesting life. Things happened for her. And when they weren't happening she made them happen. When she was in middle school she wanted to go to California. She wanted to see the Pacific Ocean. It became a driving force for her. All she wanted. Every birthday, every Christmas she would ask for a trip. Her parents let her know that that was not going to happen. They couldn't afford to take the whole family across the country like that. So she decided to go on her own. If they couldn't make it happen she would.

The next day in school a contest had been announced. An essay contest where the first place prize was a trip for four to Disneyland. She really needed a trip for six but she would figure that out later. It never crossed her mind that she wouldn't win. Afterall she had decided that she would handle it on her own and this came to her the next day. Obviously this was how she was going to handle it.

When she won the trip she was featured on the local news. She smiled her biggest smile then frowned just a touch. Enough that it was noticeable but not enough to look planned. "Are you okay?" The news lady had asked her, "Oh, yes! I'm so excited, but..." she had trailed off. "But?" The woman was starting to get teary eyed herself just watching her young face start to fall. "Oh it's just that I have three brothers and sisters for a trip for four doesn't work for us. I will have to turn it down." The local car dealership that advertised heavily in the morning news show paid to send two more of her family on the trip and even gave them a ride to the airport.

She had great luck.

...

When they first met, long before he asked about the scar on her shoulder, his friends warned him not to lose his head. "You're already planning vacations with this woman and you don't even know her last name!"

"I'm not planning vacations with her, I just said that I bet she would love Hawaii."

"Why would you say that to someone you just met?"

"Because it's true. I swear her hair smells like the beach. She smells like sunshine and salt water. How is that even possible?"

His best friend shook his head, "It's not. Because she is clearly wearing a perfume that smells like cinnamon bread."

His best friend's wife said, "You are both insane. She is wearing lilac."

None of them realized she smelled like their favorite things.

She was lucky like that.

...

Gram had taken her out for a picnic. They had talked about the land. About how much Gram loved her hills. Loved the things that grew. Loved the greens of the grass and the trees and the moss. She had listened to it all. Getting very sleepy as Gram talked. Gram told her it was okay to take a nap if she wanted to. She rested her eyes for just a moment and Gram started to sing. So pretty. She drifted off to sweet music with words she could not understand.

After she fell asleep her great grandmother had taken a few steps away and watched. She thought at first that it was too late. That the bond had broken when her daughter had refused to bring her granddaughter home. But then the first white top popped from the ground, then another, then four more in quick succession. Within just a few minutes her granddaughter was surrounded by a circle of mushrooms. She had called them to her. It was not too late. She had made a faerie circle.

Gram turned and found her granddaughter staring. "What...what..."

"This is why you needed to come home. This is what your mother kept from you. Watch her."

She slept. Deeply. And as she slept she dreamt of things she had read about in stories. There was a giant golden dragon who let her climb on his back and slide down his tail. He held vines in his mouth so she could use them as a swing. There was a greedy little leprechaun watching her from the shadows but she didn't want his gold. Why would she when there were colorful butterflies to chase. So many different shades. Pinks, purples, yellows, so pretty. One landed on her shoulder and she saw that it wasn't a butterfly at all. It was a little person with wings. Sparkling in the sun. Oh, pretty!

She woke with a start and a cry. The pain throbbing in her shoulder still.

Her mother and her great grandmother rushed to her side. "Are you okay? What happened?"

She scowled, "It bit me! The pretty butterfly lady bit me!"

Her great grandmother nodded, "Pixies. Mean little things."

They looked at her shoulder. There was a small bloody mark perfectly shaped like the creature's mouth. "Let's wash that out so it doesn't get infected."

The went back up to the house and cleaned the wound. "What did you do when it bit you, darling?" asked Gram.

She looked at her great grandmother, fished one finger in to the back of her mouth, and spat out an iridescent wing, "I eated her."

"That will teach them not to mess with my great granddaughter."

She swelled with pride. Her Gram was never disappointed in her again.

...

He finally got the courage up to ask her to marry him. He wasn't sure she would say yes, but he knew he would never forgive himself for not trying.

She had said maybe.

He wasn't as devastated as he thought he would be. A maybe wasn't a no. It was almost a yes.

"Maybe? That's not very romantic."

She laughed, "I know. But I need you to meet someone first."

He looked shocked, "Do you have a kid I didn't know about?"

"No, actually the other way. I want you to meet my great grandmother. I want her to meet you. Then I will give you my answer."

"Your great grandmother is still alive? That's amazing. How old is she?"

"Very. She is very old. Will you meet her?"

"Of course I will. Of course."

...

The house looked the same, the fields around it the same, and Gram looked the same as well. "You never age!"

"I did for awhile, then I stopped. It got to be a bother." her great grandmother laughed. He shivered, it was her laugh. The laugh like champagne bubbles. This little old woman laughed the same way his beautiful love did. He thought to himself, "Blood will tell."

They spent a week with her great grandmother. They took long walks in the fields, they had picnic lunches under her trees. He listened to Gram sing the most beautiful songs and sat on the edge of his seat as she told stories. He was learning more Irish history than he had ever imagined. "When the babies were starving my daughter decided to leave Ireland and not look back. She took herself over to America and raised her family there. Never even brought her daughter to me to bless."

He was confused. She mistook what he was puzzled about, "We are a matriarch line. The blessings don't flow from the Pa but from the Ma. It's Catholic heresy that changed the proper order. Unnatural."

"Your daughter left Ireland during the famine?"

"During the starvations, yes."

"But that was in the 1800s." he looked at his hopefully soon to be bride, "Your grandmother came to America in the 1800s? How old is she?"

"Very. She is very old."

He looked at the two women sitting in front of him. "How is that possible? If your grandmother came to America in the, let's say at the end, 1860s or so that would mean she was born in 1840 and that would mean you would have to have been born before that, you would have to be 200 years old, at least."

Her great grandmother laughed again, that beautiful musical laugh, "At least. Though it is not polite to ask how old a woman is."

"How is that possible?"

...

She flew back to America alone. Gram had given him a drink and sung to him until he had fallen asleep. When he woke up he was in a hotel room in London with memories of a trip to England filling his head. He wouldn't remember her. His friends would assume that he was heartbroken over her refusal of his proposal and not mention her to him after his first denial of knowing who she was. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it would do.

He hadn't been the first she had taken to meet her great grandmother and she hoped he wouldn't be the last. She needed a man who could pass the test so she could pass along the line. She was hoping to bring her stubborn great grandmother over to America soon. She had a plot of land behind her house that she was sure would be perfect for establishing new roots, she just needed a few mushrooms from her Gram's garden and a blessing in song from her lips. As sure as her middle name was Mab, she wouldn't be the last in her line.

Stalling...

When Brent travels I lounge in bed and read before I get up in the morning. I still wake up at the same time. I just don't get up. I read. I read Facebook, I read whatever book I'm currently in the middle of, I just read. I laze about. Then I eventually roll out of bed when the drive for coffee gets too strong to stay under the covers.

And I almost always regret it. The time we normally get up and get to the gym is a rarely crowded time. When I laze about it almost always is crowded. The parking lot is full because there are classes going on, the floor is full because everyone who doesn't have to be to work by 7 or 8 is there and because they aren't in a hurry to get to work they sort of meander through their workouts and, get this, CHAT with each other. I really do prefer getting my workout done before Brent goes to work. But still when he travels I laze about anyway.

I knew I need to fill the tank this week. I was creeping towards a quarter tank and I normally don't let it get that low. And especially when there is snow in the forecast (AGAIN). So I knew I needed gas but I kept pushing it off. I needed $25 more in groceries to reach 100 points which would give me the 10 cent discount. Which works out to about a $1 saved, by the way, so that's how ridiculous it is, but still, I waited until I had stopped at the grocery store yesterday to stock up on a few things to reach that magic mark. And then this morning I went to fill up and gas prices had gone up overnight. Of course they had, Spring Break is next week and so if I had thought about it I would have FOR SURE filled up on Wednesday. But I was being slow so I didn't. Good thing I had that extra 10 cent discount, ugh.

For my goal this month I am doing a compound recap goal. I talked about it earlier. But part of it is publishing 3 blogs a week. Which is not that many, y'all, not really. But because I have made it a need to do I've been slacking. Yesterday I had every intention of writing, because I had 3 days left in the week and two blogs to publish and Saturday is a busy chopped up time day so I won't have time to sit and write. So OBVIOUSLY I would sit down and write a blog yesterday and one today and it would be done. And as the day ticked away and I did a little of this, and a little of that, and zero writing I thought, well that leaves two for tomorrow, and oh yeah, one really needs to be fiction to keep up with my 52 fiction pieces for the year goal so...

It is such a weird thing. I love making a list and checking things off. I love ending the day knowing I've been super productive and done a lot of things. I love making a difference in a day. But I will spend a whole day reading random news articles or surfing odd TV shows or just daydreaming and have none of those things to show for it. Why do I do it?

Why do we all do it?

The number of things we do that are not in our own best interests. We know we should eat better than we do. We know we should be more physically active than we are. We know we should be nicer to people than we are. We know we should do more to help people that we do. We know that there are so many ways that we could make ourselves and the world around us better but we don't do them. Why is that?

The best things in life are rarely the easiest. We know that, right? But at the same time why would we want to struggle constantly? I mean I am always reframing things to make them enjoyable. My baseline is happy and I make pretty much everything a game to make sure I'm having fun. Even the goals and subgoals and minigoals and macrogoals are all just part of a giant game I'm playing to collect stars. But wouldn't it be great if we could figure out a way to stop self sabotaging, to stop skipping the things that are good for us, that are the best for us and just do our best all of the time?

I have no idea how to actually do that, or if I even want to, because the truth is, I love laying around in bed reading a book. I love easing in to the day. I love staring out the window daydreaming. And who knows, if I gave all of those things up I might turn into a giant super motivated stress ball who was accomplishing a lot but having no fun at all doing it. Maybe it's the balance that is important. Maybe all of the shoulds aren't as important as we think they are. My friend Megan says, "Don't should on me and I won't should on you."

I don't know what the actual balance is between doing only things that are good for us and productive and doing things that are maybe not so good for us but feed our souls and recharge our batteries. But what I do know is that this totally counts as one of the two blogs I need to write today.

(Insert big cheesy grin here)

Middle of the Night Ideas...

I had one of those dreams last night that I was aware of while it was happening and the part of my brain that is aware of my dreams was sure that this was a great story and I was really pleased to have a good bordering on great idea for a short story. Maybe I would even save it and use it for a submission piece next month. It was that good. So when I woke up I pulled out my phone and opened Notes and started typing away. And went...what? None of this makes sense. I stopped and thought about the dream again, trying to grasp what it was that had seemed so brilliant and finally gave up. It's not great. It's not good. It's not even coherent.

It happens. A lot.

There is just a classification of ideas that you get that are only brilliant in the middle of the night. Dream ideas for stories fall into that quite often. There are also things that seem great at 2 AM when you're drunk that don't really work out well the next day when you think about them again. That could have just been me, and probably a good portion of the reason why I don't drink much and I rarely stay up late. It's just better for everyone.

But then I got thinking, what are the other things that we hold on to and try to make sense of that, even if they technically aren't, are really middle of the night ideas that just need to be let go.

This past weekend I posted something on Facebook and one of my ultra conservative friends commented on it. I didn't engage because there was no point in it. We do not see the world the same way. As in alternate universe differences. His response to my post was just a confirmation of it. Such a different way of viewing the world I thought to myself, "Really? You see all of this information and THAT'S what you get from it? Well, now I know who is believing the stuff that I think, 'who is believing this stuff?' about." But the trick is that I know he is just as puzzled by what I believe. He cannot believe that I see all of the same stuff and don't come to the conclusions that he does. We both believe the other is full of middle of the night ideas that make no sense. And though logically I know he has to believe what he says, I also cannot work out the logic he uses to believe such clear nonsense. So I don't engage.

Which leads me to one of the big barriers to life right now. We are all really divided. Everything is tribal. We vilify the other side. If we don't vilify them we consider them to be idiots. I made the decision and keep making the decision to keep writing about what I think even though I know it will not change minds. I know it's all just another layer for people who think the same things as I do to wrap themselves in, but I decided to do it anyway. But I also made the decision to try my hardest not to fight with people about things that will not change.

I did it with guns after Sandy Hook. Though the kids in Florida gave me some hope so I commented about it more this time, but I still won't argue with anyone who is a Second Amendment FOR LIFE! person. I just won't do it anymore. They are going to have to come to some recognition of the well regulated part on their own. I'm tired of running in to that brick wall and having someone else's beliefs papered over what I am actually saying. I was tired of no change happening and each time I made suggestions on ways we could actually regulate the guns we have being told that confiscation wasn't going to happen. Seriously. It's exhausting to have to keep re-reading what you are writing and trying to figure out where you said what they are telling you that you said only to discover that nope, you didn't say that anywhere except in their heads.  So I stopped.

Which is really hard. Trust me. When you see someone post something stupid like, "Criminals don't follow laws." or "There is nothing that could have been done." or one of my favorites, "they would have just used a knife!" (I've been stabbed twice in my life and if I had been shot by an AR-15 or any other high-velocity gun in those two spots I would have died so yeah) There are a lot of times I want to send a PM to the person who is arguing and give them better arguments. But I don't. I close it down and walk away. There is no reaching someone who does not want to be reached. For instance you aren't going to convince me that your want of an AR-15 to play with is somehow what the Founding Fathers were talking about when they wrote The Second Amendment in the first place. (I'm not arguing, it's my blog, I'm talking)

But there are so many things right now. Pretty much everything that Trump does or does not do. Local politics. Regional politics. National politics. Things that never used to be considered political but somehow are now. We think this so we are right. You think that so you are evil. We have Stars on Ours....

It's all a bit crazy.

Middle of the night ideas.

So how do we change? Can we change? I'm trying not to fight with people as much. I'm trying not to post on public posts, even from friends, if I think the original content or the comments are too negative or have gone sideways. I'm trying to keep my level of disgust in check. But I'm not staying silent. I'm not going along to get along. I'm going to continue to post my opinions on things. I'm going to keep being a little surprised when someone that I know believes something I can CLEARLY see is nonsense. And then I will keep trying to remind myself that somehow they think the same about what I believe.

But I still don't know that anything changes. Except we keep getting more polarized. We keep finding excuses to stick with only people that agree with us. Because, let's face it, listening to someone espouse an idea that you not only disagree with but find repugnant makes it pretty much impossible to keep a good thought about them in your head. And I think we are all so tired of fighting. But instead of stopping fighting we are just spending time with people who think the way we do. Which is also a bad middle of the night idea. With no differences there is no change. And with no change we stagnate. That's not good for anyone.

So I'm not sure what to do here. I guess we will have to see if we wake up from this bad dream and realize what a bad idea it has all been.

What were you thinking?

You would think that being able to read minds would be a great skill to have. You would think that if you couldn't do it. If you could do it you would realize that it's a horrible thing to live with.

Janine had been able to read minds her entire life. Because of her gift she quickly understood that most people were truly awful. It wasn't just the big horrific things that she heard people thinking, things like murder or rape or theft, it was the myriad of small petty things. The constant judging and ranking of everyone around them. The difference between the thought in their head and the things that they said. She had only met a small handful of people whose inside and outside voices matched. Those were the really kind ones, or the really mean ones. Only people on the extreme edges ever matched.

The really mean ones she steered clear of, like most people do. The really kind ones she was attracted to the strongest. Because they were there easiest to manipulate.

Janine was also a truly awful person.

She liked to believe it was because she had spent her life hearing what the world really thought. That would make it very hard for anyone to maintain their optimism. It really was awful to constantly hear what the world really thought about everything, but especially what they really thought of you. But she suspected she would have been a truly awful person anyway and her gift just exacerbated the situation. The truth was she was good at being bad. And she really enjoyed it. She thought, well actually she knew, that most people would be the same if they had her talents.

Janine had used her gifts in a variety of ways but when it came down to it she was a con artist. She usually made her living as a psychic medium. The fact that she was a real psychic made being a fake medium very easy. People thought about what they wanted you to tell them. They held the names of the dead in their minds. They told you what answers they wanted to hear. Yes, Uncle George is happy. Yes he wants you to feel no guilt at all over cheating Cousin Susie out of her inheritance, she was a nasty piece of work anyway. No he will not tell you where the hidden cash is, he hid it for a reason after all. Death did not make Uncle George any more helpful.

She could drag a willing client along for months or even years. They got to be dependent on her. Asking her for advice on everything. Sometimes the spirits were right, sometimes they were wrong. But they always knew the exact right things to say to keep the money rolling in. Janine was highly sought after. She had quite the reputation. The Amazing Randi had even tried to debunk her. He wouldn't admit that she was the real deal but he did have to admit that he couldn't figure out how she was faking people out. She had been very impressed with the levels he went to to trip her up. He had planted false information on the web that would have come up if she was doing pre-research on her clients. The problem was that lies stood out like a bright light in a mind, with the truth hiding right behind it. All she had to do was move his curtain to the side and see his truth. After the fourth or fifth time she did it she saw the smallest kernel of belief in his head. Then he convinced himself that it was all a trick that he just hadn't figure out how to do. She had smiled at him then and said, "It's not."

After that her reputation just kept growing. She was a "proven psychic medium" now. She was no phony. Her client list kept growing. She had assistants who handled her schedule. Since she had to see everyone in person and couldn't do things via the phone or the internet like some others in her line of work people sometimes waited a year for an appointment. They flew in from all over the world to see her. She was making a lot of money. A lot of money.

But she was incredibly bored. There had to be more she could do with her talents than just this. Though it was profitable it was so time consuming. And it wasn't like she could train someone else to handle the day to day operations while she just supervised. Though there had been many people who had come to her to learn her ways. Other con artists who recognized talent and wanted a piece of the pie. They always left disappointed. And pissed off. How dare she not share the wealth.

She had been thinking of new things to do when Candice walked in to her meeting room. Candice was a new client. She was there to find out if her dead husband had been cheating on her. She was pretty sure he had been. There was a lot of evidence that showed he was. Really she knew he had been. But he was dead now and she wanted to think good things about him. Well not about him so much as about herself. People didn't understand how much being cheated on changed the way you thought about yourself. She had always had a really strong sense of self worth and finding out he had been cheating on her had destroyed that. She had suddenly felt worthless. It was devastating. But maybe she was wrong. She hoped she was wrong. She was going to find out for sure.

All of that hit Janine in an almost solid wall of thought when Candice walked in to the room. The other thing that hit Janine was Candice's net worth. Her husband was a wealthy man but that was nothing compared to what Candice herself already owned. Janine's entire business empire wouldn't cover the tax bill on Candice's estate in one year. Suddenly Janine was a lot less bored. Her mind started spinning with the idea of becoming Candice's personal medium. Living like royalty. All of that money backed with all of that insecurity? It was a ripe juicy plum just waiting to be picked.

"He loved you, but he was intimidated by you."

Candice hadn't even sat down yet when Janine hit her with that. Candice's hand flew up to her throat, "What?"

"I'm sorry. That just came in to my head as you walked in, how rude of me. I'm Janine St. Clair, how may I help you?"

"No, that's what I am here for. I wanted to see if you could speak to my husband, my late husband, but of course you know that, you're a medium why would I ask you to speak to my husband if he were still alive. I'm sorry, I'm just flustered. Is he here right now? Are you already talking to him? How did you know to contact him?"

"He is here. He is with you. He can't bear to leave you while you are feeling so..."

"Insecure. It's okay, you can say it. He always said he hated how insecure I was. How needy."

"He's sorry about saying that. He didn't want you to feel badly, he wanted you to understand how you did not need to ever feel that way."

Janine spent the next hour soothing Candice's fragile ego. The whole time picking her way around her thoughts. Selecting bits of information to use for a follow up. There was a lot of good stuff about her mother in there. No wonder Candice was so needy. What a cold woman she had had for a mother. Where was her father? Oh yes, so much there as well. This was going to be easy.

And it was. Within a few months Candice had moved Janine on to her Malibu compound. The guest house Janine was living in was nicer than her own place a few miles inland. She also had an apartment in the luxury tower Candice stayed in when she traveled to New York for business. She couldn't bear being too far away from Janine for too long. Janine officially retired. She was fine being a pampered employee of Candice. A spoiled lap dog, as her butler thought of her. She had barked at him and he had gone three shades of pale.

After six months Janine started to expand her influence. Candice no longer just counted on her for soothing her ego but brought her to business meetings. She took only Janine's advice on who to work with. Who to invest in. Who to trust. Candice was completely dependent on her advice. That's when Janine started to play with her. She set up an offshore account and started to siphon money from Candice's accounts. Passwords were childsplay. She also started to accumulate blackmail material. Give Janine an ultra wealthy individual and Janine would find you their dirty secrets. Tax evasion, affairs, illegal business dealings. There was always something, and Candice was no exception. Janine collected her information.

Once she had everything she wanted from Candice she set up her killing blow. She arranged for Candice to invite the women her late husband had been sleeping with to tea. All six of them. Candice had suspected he had been sleeping with one other woman, but never this many. And never would have guessed that he would have chosen people in their social circle. But he had. Janine had found them through the year. Remembering him fondly when they would run in to Candice someplace. None of them realized that they were not to the only one as well so this was going to be fun on a lot of levels. Getting them all in one room had taken a lot of manipulating and planning. Planting ideas for fundraisers and charitable events that they all would be able to work on. Bringing all of their expertise with them. These were accomplished women. Business owners, CEOs, CFOs, leaders of boards. So much success in one room. So much to ruin.

They sat down to tea and started planning. Janine put her hand to her head and closed her eyes. Candice noticed right away, "Are you okay?"

"Yes..." Janine whispered and looked around the room at all of the faces, "Yes, I just..." Then she did her best trying to hide what she was feeling expression. "I just think I should get some fresh air. I..."

The women around the table began to get nervous. They all knew what she was, but had assumed that if Robert had been going to talk to Janine about them he would have done it much earlier. They had all heard the story of Candice and Janine's first meeting after all. They figured they were in the clear. Then the shift started to happen. The women around the table noticed that the other women around the table were just as nervous as they were.

Janine swooned again. Then she could no longer hold back her shocked expression. "I just...All of you?" She said with disgust dripping from every word. "He won't shut up. I'm sorry. He just won't shut up." She looked toward the CFO of the largest Talent Agency on the West Coast, "In your office? Really?" Then she shook her head, "You really let him do that? While your kids were home?" At this the small pretty blonde next to her covered her mouth in shock and horror.

Candice was started to figure out what was happening. The pain and horror was spreading across her face. The realization that her husband HAD been unfaithful to her after all. And not with one woman, but with all of these women. And they had all thought they were something special. They had trusted him just as much as she had. It was devastating.

Janine thought about her hidden assets and the ruin she was going to leave here for someone else to clean up. She thought about her next adventure. She had bought a beach house in the Cayman Islands to go with her stolen funds. She was thinking she might start a new religion. That seemed like fun. She really was a horrible person. As she was planning her escape Candice was making her way toward her. She grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Robert? Are you listening? I can't believe I trusted you. I never should have trusted you!" Candice cried in Janine's face, trying to reach her dead husband.

Janine shrugged her off, "You're right. You never should have."