Damsel in distress

Once upon a time, in a strange settlement in the middle of a city, in the middle of a country known as the United States, there were various kingdoms. 

Our story today follows a girl. A girl who may not have been born with flawless princess beauty, but if she had figured out how to properly apply makeup, she could have almost been there.  This girl grew up with a dream: to be a princess. Unfortunately, her real obstacle on that road was not skin deep. 

You see, the girl in this story was not a very nice girl. She saw everything in the world only in terms of how beneficial it could be to her. If she could find no such value in an object, or person, she'd crinkle her nose, roll her eyes, and sigh a sigh so full of contempt it could curdle milk.  She had grown up with the dream of becoming a princess, and that included treating others as her subjects. 

There is one lesson she, eventually, learned. This lesson, however, did not point the girl on the right path, as lessons in stories so typically do. This lesson she learned, helped her to deceive. 

She discovered she was able to seduce potential princes with a spell to honey coat her malice and a gentle helplessness concealing her evil plan. 

Oh, how this trick worked for her.  She worked her magic on man after man; perfecting her craft for the perfect one. She had gone through her fair share of decent men and nice guys and men playing the same game as she (all of them having discovered her for the snake she truly was), before she found him.  

She saw the potential in the poor, unsuspecting prince from the moment they met. He was soft spoken, with kind eyes.   His smile, when he was feeling confident, was contagious. He was sweet, caring, and wanted to be strong. That was his downfall. 

This girl was cunning. She set up a long game for this one; she had aged quite a bit before her claws finally took their grip. She lured her prince in with a smile and clumsy 'trip' into his arms. 

His presence at court became a rarity. Those who once called him a friend, began to forget his smile and quick wit. When he did turn up, she sat glued to his side. Her sly smirk and condescending glances lingered on everyone in the room. The pair seldom spoke, and always retired early. 

The prince fell into darkness. 

After three years of whispered trickery and witchcraft, the court had a glimmer of hope. The girl, who everyone feared would get her wish and become princess, stopped showing up on the prince's arm. 

The prince would dance and laugh again, if only for a short while, before retreating to her. It was small, but there was hope for the people of the settlement. 

That hope was soon extinguished.  The prince married that girl, and her darkness spread through his kingdom. 

It was once a beautiful land; green and full of promise. It now sits in shadow. 

There is legend whispered in the streets by those brave enough to cling to hope. A legend of one who will cut the snake's tongue and end the troubled times. 

None so far have risen. 

So the subjects live their lives; smiling unto their prince and his spell-bound happiness, averting their eyes from his damsel's malicious gaze. They wait. 

They wait in the darkness for one who will bring the light. 

The calm

Tomorrow, a new girl moves in to one of my houses. She's young and shy and even tempered. For the first time in months, I feel the good sort of anxious. A weight has been lifted and calm has settled in it's place. The storm is over and the weather is finally changing. I spent all day yesterday painting her room; painting over the last remnants of the old inhabitant. The storm. 

She was schizophrenic, although sometimes I think there was more to it than that. She'd be sweet and playing air guitar one minute, and throwing a chair through a window or breaking a staff's arm the next. More than once, I put my life on hold to stop the destruction. Zoo trip with my visiting aunt, wedding reception, and, multiple nights, my dinner.  All skipped. All spent dodging flying rocks and 'fuck you's. She was the human embodiment of chaos. 

She was the only one whose med list I knew by heart. I'd read it often enough to admitting nurses, psych hospital staff, and pharmacists that I'd be shocked if I didn't. I'd spent more time in hospitals and had more interactions with police officers in four months with her than I had my whole life before. 

She went to church every week. Sometimes twice a week. That never did any good. The pastors said she had demons in her, a theory I'd normally only except in a horror film. Standing in that room, newly painted like the sky on a cloudless afternoon, I felt it. It could have just been the color of the walls, but I could feel the lack of darkness. 

She wasn't all bad, hence the chaos. At the end of what was one of the most emotionally and physically taxing days of my life, she brought a smile to my face. I finished a phone call and felt tears filling my eyes when she walked up. She bounced her head off my shoulder three times, each time accompanied by a 'boop,' and then she simply walked away. Without one word, she moved toward the door. I yelled after her, asking what it meant. She turned back and smiled a pure, genuine, smile and said, "you know, honey." Moments like that are the reason I do what I do. They're also the reason her bad days hurt so much. 

One bad day, after talking with her for over an hour, her guardian gave the okay to phone the police and have her taken to the hospital. The arrival of the police only upset her more. I was on the phone with her mother, my staff was clinging to my dress and cowering behind me. I was already fighting tears when she did it. She was yelling at someone named Joe (there was no Joe present, nor did she ever know anyone named Joe), and when an officer stepped toward her, she landed a punch. They both had tasers aimed at her before I remembered to breathe. She got a few more hits in before being thrown against the car and handcuffed. I spent the next five hours bonding with her mom while she was admitted. 

I've seen her pick up broken glass and slice her wrist. I've seen her try to carry out a death threat on her roommate. I've seen her shot up with sedatives by badass psych nurses. I've also seen her give what little she has to make someone else smile. I've seen her stop what she was doing and give a friend a reassuring back rub. I've heard her give a peer the same pep talk I've given her so many times. 

She didn't leave of her own volition. We had no choice but to give her notice. She was a threat to the safety of her roommates and staff. She was the reason I couldn't sleep at night. What is she going to do next? 

I was the one who took her to her new house. Movers came and packed up her things, and I drove her over. The house is in a part of town I only hear about on the news. I can only imagine what could happen once the honeymoon stage is over. I left her in a neighborhood where, when she's outside throwing her rocks and yelling her 'fuck you's, the neighbors won't stay inside and shake their heads. I gave her one last hug and finally let the tears I held for her flow, but only once I'd started driving away. She couldn't see them. 

I was conflicted up until the moment the paint dried. I took a deep breath, and felt peace for the first time in that room. Although, it could have been the fumes. We'll see tomorrow.  

spinster

"You're too old to have kids now, Laura. You're 23 and you're not even married!" 

"I'm only three years older than you!"

"Yeah, but I'm cute."

I know she's being funny, but I also know her well enough to know when she truly believes what she's saying. 

"Zip that cute face before I leave it on the side of the road." 

She laughs and makes the motion of a zipper across her lips. 

I love my job. I do. Even when they tease me. Even when a police officer ruins my favorite shoes trying to get me out of harms way. Although, I actually would have traded my ruined shoes for getting ran into (her hands were cuffed behind her back, there's not a lot she could have done!) that day.  Even when they embarrass me in front of the cute nurse, on purpose, and laugh about it as soon as we leave.  They're the reason I get up in the morning.

"Oh I really like that house!" I pointed to one with a wrap around, enclosed, porch.  "But maybe I should just stop looking since I'm never going to need any more space than a studio apartment because I'm going to be alone and childless my whole life."
"Yep."
An exaggerated frown crossed my face and she immediately took to groveling.  
"Okay, no, being serious now.  You will be a great mom.  You'll be old, but you'll be great.  You have to bring them to our house so I can play with them.  They'll call me 'Auntie.'  They'll all have beautiful hair, like you, too."
"I feel better now.  Thanks, girl."  I wasn't really feeling bad in the first place.  You can't do this job if you take everything they say to heart.  If I got upset every time I get called a 'fucking bitch,' I'd go crazy, myself.  Not to mention, 9 times out of 10, half an hour after 'fucking bitch,' comes 'I love you, honey.'  1 out of 10 times it's still 'fucking bitch.'
"You're welcome.  Now, just because you're going to have all these beautiful babies and live in a big house, that does not mean you can leave us.  I'll let you have the babies, but you have to stay our supervisor."
"I can't make any promises...what if the man I marry has to move for his job?  What if he makes sooo much money that I don't need a job?"
"Leave him.  We'll need you more."
I love my job.

solitaire

I have a solitaire app on my phone that has the capability to turn 7:30 pm into 10:30 pm in the blink of an eye. I don't even want to look at the stats to see how many games I've actually played.  I'm single and live alone, so solitaire is a more than perfect way to pass the time. 

The undo button is my favorite feature. I go so fast, I often click past a card I could have used. I don't even see the opportunity staring me in the face. I even end up pulling a new card down when I could have uncovered one on the bottom (notice my complete lack of knowledge of card terminology). Taking that card from the bottom could have revealed an ace! or something equally as beneficial. Still, I go too fast and the cards blur as I skip over them. 

Life needs an undo button. A wait, I went too fast, let's go back and actually analyze the situation before I make my move button. 

I don't know how many times I've gone somewhere this week (or my whole life to date...stats are high either way) only to have left what I needed sitting on my desk. I don't know how many times I've looked back once the situation has calmed down and I think, "it would have all been much easier if I had done that instead."  My favorite is, "if I had stopped talking at that sentence, I wouldn't be in this mess." 

Undo, undo, undo...

I am addicted to the stupid game. I try to keep as many cards in the pile as I can so I can hit auto complete and the all swish into order. I do, however, have a nasty habit of starting a new game before I've made sure I'm out of moves. Ehh, start over, would be another nice life feature. 

Clean slate, new deck. 

My worst habit is quitting before I even try. Getting dealt every card in the same color just isn't worth the time. Chances are, it'll be a waste. Why bother if it's fairly clear it won't work out? It's daunting. Who wants to deal with daunting, card game or otherwise?  New game. It's so simple to move on and maybe have an opportunity to win. 

Most importantly, in solitaire, there's no other player to screw it all up. I'm tired of people screwing everything up and messing up all the hard work I put into what I do.  

Life needs to be more like solitaire.  

erotic love?

Opening a new group home is pretty difficult. Before you can even find a house, you have to have clients to move in. You can't put money down on a house and then, oops!, only two clients are ready to move in. They can't afford it and we can't afford to have a staff with only two clients. The most important thing, though, is making sure it is staffed when it's ready. That means, we have four staff hired and trained by the time we're ready for everyone to move in.  That means, we have four staff floating around in no-mans land waiting until the position they were hired for actually exists.  

If it will actually exist. 

We ran into some trouble during this process.  One of the girls suddenly isn't ready to make the move from her parents house yet.  No new group home.  Not yet. Now these staff stuck in no-mans land have a choice: they can accept another open position, switch to on-call status, or find another job. 

That is a tough call to make. It's awkward telling someone, "I know you were hired for those hours in that house, but it won't be available for a few months. We do have these hours at this house available, if you want them. There's also this position in vocational of you want day hours instead."

Two staff accepted other positions. The other two were proving hard to get on the phone. 

One evening, my office mate and I were making our last attempts before we turned in the personnel form stating abandonment. That's when we made the discovery that she had one of the phone numbers wrong. She looked through her call list to see where the mistake happened and found another number she thought could be the staff's. It was an incoming call number that happened an hour before this staff was scheduled for training the week before, so she called the number to check. 

"Hello, this is Samantha, am I speaking with Diane?" 

"No, this isn't Diane. This is a business."

"Oh, this is a business, too. I was trying to get ahold of one of my staff. Which business is this?"

"This is Erotic Love."

"Oh, I definitely have the wrong number. Sorry."

She hung up the phone and we laughed until we were in tears. We finally got ahold of that staff, who claimed her phone was broken so she had used a friend's that day. That answer raised more questions, but we agreed that it was best they go unanswered.  There are some things you're better off not knowing. 

where's the romance, dammit?

Whatever happened to good, old fashioned dating?  Seriously.  
I want to see some cute couple on an awkward first date; fingertips barely touching across the table.  I don't want to see a guy with his pants at his knees holding a girl's ass as they walk into the gas station for cheap vodka.  I don't want to see a girl dreaming of a picket fence and hopelessly pinning over a guy with no interest in her except the attention she's giving him and the countless favors it comes with.  I don't want to see a man spending all his money on taking care of a girl who spends her time with someone else.  I don't want to see a girl going back to the first girl she met right out of the closet because she's afraid of the game on the other team.  I want to see shy glances and flowers and a man walking a girl to her door, giving her a goodnight kiss, and turning around to go home. 

Is that too much to ask?
Does that mean my views on love have been biased by Disney and various romantic comedies and my parent's and grandparent's own love stories?
Is this just the time we live in?
In a world of 'baby mama's' and rap, Twilight and Taylor Swift, does the good stuff still exist? 

I've seen proof that it does.  It's rare, but it's out there.  It's a shame that there are so many people out there afraid to be alone, afraid to wait and work to find the good stuff, that they take whatever they can get.  Love as we known it, knew it, may be becoming extinct.  
Or I'm just incredibly pessimistic.  Either one.  

“I've been making a list of the things they don't teach you at school. They don't teach you how to love somebody...They don't teach you how to walk away from someone you don't love any longer. They don't teach you how to know what's going on in someone else's mind...They don't teach you anything worth knowing.” -Neil Gaiman

And some people never learn on their own...
I want to see real, 1960's type romance. 

 Or maybe something along these lines. :]

winner.

In this troubling time of starting over, trying new things is important.  That was my reasoning behind deciding to hang out with a new group of people.  Going out of your comfort zone is essential for a newly single girl.
It was supposed to be a night with decent looking guy and his incredibly hot friends.  The decent one offered to pick me up on his way downtown.  Unbeknownst to me, we were not going to make it downtown.  
As it turns out, his parents house is close to my apartment.  We had a drink in his parents basement as he picked out a movie on demand.  Yes, I was trying to be bold and adventurous, but I still don't enjoying bringing up a subject to make myself even more awkward, like, "aren't we supposed to be meeting up with some sexy bicyclists in the Old Market?"  Instead, I sat there, in this man's parent's basement, and 'watched' one of those terrible spoof movies. 
When the movie was finally over, we left to go to the bar.  We didn't make it to the interstate.  We went a block north to what might be the strangest bar I've even entered.  The owners either couldn't decide on a theme, or thought it would be fun to try everything all at once.  It was called Bogies and it was a sports/karaoke/danceclub bar owned by a middle-aged Chinese woman.  The menu also had an identity crisis.  She couldn't decide whether to serve homemade chinese food or bar food, so she combined them.  The other customers were just as diverse.  There was the country bumpkin group in their cowboy boots and hats with flannel shirts in one corner.  Gathered around the pool/beer pong tables were the bros with their chains and sunglasses.  It even had the skinny girls in ugs and pajama shorts on the dance floor trying to shake their asses like Shakira.  Of course, I couldn't forget the table of very large women, each drinking pop straight from their own personal pitcher with a straw, waiting for their turn to sing Adele and get booed off the stage. 

I had finally worked up the courage to break the uncomfortable silence and ask if anyone was meeting us.  He had an excuse for why each one of them couldn't make it.  Que more awkward silence.  I continued to people watch as I felt him stare at me.  I could tell he was trying to find something to say, but as I had nothing to say, I couldn't help him.  Besides, I was busy watching a cowboy dance to lil Wayne.
Our silence was broken by his ringtone.  His mother was on the other end and even in the karaoke filled bar, I could make out yelling.  I gathered that someone at the bar had seen us and called her.  I also overheard the words "trashy," "little girl,"  and "take her home."  
On the way home, he asked my age.  I figured that was coming.  The bartender didn't I.D. us and his mother must have thought I was under 21 if she ordered him to take me home.  This sort of thing happened to me a lot, but usually in reverse.  People tend to assume I'm older, not younger.  This was not a night I wished to repeat, so I gave a coy, "you can't ask a lady that question" response when he asked my age on the drive home.  I hoped that by not offering my age, it would confirm that I was underage.  
When we pulled up to my apartment I realized that might have been a bad idea.  He awkwardly swooped in for the goodnight kiss while still in the car.  I pretended not to notice and 'fumbled' with my seat belt.  He cleared his throat and mumbled something about calling me some time. I quickly said sure and good night and almost sprinted to my door.  My heart didn't stop racing until I slammed the door shut behind me.  I immediately sunk to the ground in a fit of the giggles. 
I laughed until tears streamed down my face.  I am an awkward person, but I don't think I have ever experienced anything so ridiculous.  My fit stopped as soon as my phone went off.  He texted me.   
"love u hope to see you again soon"
I think I'm going to stay in my comfort zone for a while.  Trying new things is overrated.

creepy cat lady

This morning, my cat helped me pick out my lunch. I didn't get a chance to eat it, but it's the thought that counts. 

I don't understand why something like this is "creepy cat lady-like," but if Dinah were a dog it wouldn't be weird. Double standard!

Why can't cats have play dates at the park? That would be adorable. Why does it make me seem like a weirdo when I tell people my cat licks my nose every morning when my alarm goes off?

The thing is, I may be a creepy cat lady, but I'm happier than I've been in a long time. I love having all this time to myself and my best friend. 

If that makes me a cat lady, so be it. 

:]