Weekend embarassing Moment

Now that I've gotten over the embarassment, I can talk about my most embarassing moment of the year.

I'll get right the point... I looked myself out on my second story balcony. Yep. Sure did.

It was 11:30 at night and I was just getting ready to go to bed. The doors were locked, the windows closed, and the lights were out. There were thoughts going through my head that I just couldn't get rid of and a cigarette on my balcony usually calms me down for a little bit. The air outside wasn't too bad, and I like the peacefullness of nighttime. So, I unlock my balcony door, open it, step outside, close the door and I hear the "click." It never "clicks" from the outside. It only "clicks" when I lock it from the inside.

I knew it as soon as I heard the "click." I just looked at it and thought, "That did not just happen?" I knew it had, but I had to check. Yep, sure enough, it was locked. And no matter how hard I tried, there was no way to open it. I tried to move it up, down, side to side. Nothing was going to work.

So I do inventory of my options. Basically, no options. The outside front door was locked with a dead bolt. My cell phone was inside. I couldn't climb down. The only other keys to my apartment were at least 2.5 hours away. The only thing that wasn't locked was my bedroom window and there was no way I could get to it. There's nothing in the outside storage closet that I could use to unlock the door. And to top it off, I had only one cigarette with me.

My only option was to hopefully get the attention of a car driving through the apartment complex. Or possibly a person walking. 11:30 on a Friday night, most people are out having fun. While I have the pleasure of being locked out on my balcony. If I couldn't get someone's attention, I would have to sleep outside on this balcony until the next day.

I felt so incredibly stupid. One big stupid mess. I keep my eyes open for any car that comes by. Problem is, no one thinks to look up on the balconies. And who could imagine someone would be stupid enough to lock themself. If they only knew me. A police car goes by. He doesn't see me. A couple of cars drive by and park too far away for me to yell for help. Finally, a man across the street walks to his apartment...

"Sir!" I yell, "up here." I'm waving my arms so he'll see me.

"Yeah, I see you."

(I have this nervous laugh that I break into on occassion)
He's going to think I'm completely stupid. "Could you call the police for me? I've locked myself out on my balcony."

He looks at me but doesn't hesitate to grab his cell phone and call the police dispatch.
"Hello dispatch, I've got a good one for you..."

Dispatch found it funny too.

Ten minutes later, two police cars pull up (I've been on the balcony for about an hour. The cigarette long gone.) One male, one female. I expect them to laugh. I've been around enough police officers to know they are going to go back to the station and tell their buddies about a lady who locked herself out on the balcony. They were actually nice. They had the decency to say, "We're trying not to laugh to hard down here." I tell them it's okay to laugh. In a situation like this I could either laugh or cry. I didn't really feel like crying. But I did call myself and idiot a time or two.

The police officers are not able to unlock the dead bolt lock on my front door. So, naturally, the fire department is called for the use of their ladder. The only option was my BEDROOM window, and a ladder was needed. As the fire department is on their way, my mind is racing as to what is left out in my bedroom for the fire department to see...

• Panties and bras are in the clothes basket. They won't see that.
• No embarassing books are out.
• Bed's not made, but who really cares.
• OH MY GOD! Not one, not two, but three of my vibrators on standing upright on my dresser. Just opposite my bedroom window.

Dread just floods through me. As if being locked out wasn't embarassing enough. The lights are out, maybe they won't notice. The fire department pulls up and I see two guys and one female. Maybe the female will climb the ladder and go through the window. The twenty-something attractive male is putting on his boots and specialty pants. Please no. Please no. Sure enough, he's grabbing the ladder and heading straight for the window.

I hear the female police officer yell up to me, "I hope you don't have any panties or personal items laying around."

"Oh, I do. I do." What else was I going to say?

The fireman opens the window and climbs into my bedroom. Remember there are no lights on in the apartment. All he has is his big flashlight. But he must scan the room for possible danger and to find where the door is. He's blind if he didn't see those vibrators on my dresser. He passed right by them when going out my bedroom door.

I look into the apartment and see him, with his flashlight, coming to unlock the door. In my mind I'm thinking, "if he happens to ask about them just say 'a single girl has got to get her smile somehow.'" I was not going to show embarassment. We walk back into my room (I'm following him) so he can show me the window screen he had to cut. While he's by the window, I've stationed myself directly in front of my vibrators doing my best to keep them out of his sight. I'm almost tempted to knock them off so they may possibly fly under my bed. But the way my luck is going, it will just draw attention and then he will really know.

Finally we walk out of the bedroom and out of my apartment. The lady police officer tells me the fire department will have to ask me some questions. Do they have to. Obviously, I've seen enough of the fireman. At least I don't want him looking at me. No, I don't want to see a smirk on his face showing that he saw something very private of mine.

Wouldn't you know it, the same fireman walks over to me to ask my name, phone nubmer, and address (for report purposes). Hell, I almost forgot my phone number. But the worst part was, I looked up at him and he had a smile on his face. Damn it. I told him "thank you", and he said, "See you around." That's a kind of response someone may give to anyone. Not really thinking what they are saying. I'm thinking, "O my God, I hope not."

Controversy is my worst Subject (Next to spelling)

I admit it. Whole heartedly. I hate controversy. I hate arguments. Can't stand to be near one. My mind shuts down when I'm in the middle of one. I can't think properly. It's horrible.

That's why my blog will very unlikely touch on subjects that have a hint of controversy. The only exception is religion, which granted, the subject has started wars. But religion intrigues me. So I'll talk about it.

I consider this a problem. (It's sucks.) It's more that I fear controversy than actually hate it. Growing up I was frequently told that I didn't know what I was talking about and my opinions were wrong. So naturally, over time, I learned to shut up. Many, many years later, I become a reference librarian, so now I can find the information needed to back up my statement. Statements which are few and far between. I like to have all the facts. I mean ALL of them. But you know what, it would take absolutely forever for me to know ALL the facts.

I'll give you a recent example. I came across a blog which happened to touch on the Crusades (you probably know which blog I'm referring too), and I wanted to know the facts on the Crusades. So, I begin my research. Borrow a couple of books from the library - The Oxford Illustrated History of the Crusades, The Crusades: A History of Armed Pilgrimage and Holy War, and even the Koran. The Koran because my preliminary research mentioned Muslims and I naturally thought, "Well, I can see what the Koran has to say."

I'm browsing through the books and come to the realizations 1) I'm not going to remember half of this information, 2) I'll never get through all this, and 3) I'll have to do more research on what is presented in the books (timelines, biographies, etc.) This would just take forever. It could go on and on. I thought I would attempt a condensed version from research databases on the internet. Geez, I don't recognize half the names. There's more research there.

There are two things I took away from my reading, 1) Though cloaked in religion, the Crusades weren't entirely about religion. People who weren't fighting in the name of religion were still reaping some benefits, and vice versa 2) The term "Crusades" was not given until many, many years after the battles took place. Similar to that World War I wasn't given that name until World War II. World War I used to be called The Great War. (I'm sure I read that somewhere).

I'm very thankful my best friend understand my stance on controversial topics. We don't talk about politics. When we get into a deep discussion on something and she thinks she's correct, but I disagree, I will usually reply, "I need to do some research on that." And I usually do some research. But the topic doesn't usually come up again.

Often times I reach the point where people are going to believe what they want to believe. No amount of convincing or presentation of facts is going to change their opinion. So why bother sometimes. Often times I will state a fact, but I HATE that I can't remember the source of my fact. I want to back it up. So, sometimes I won't even present my knowlege on topics.

It really sucks.

Unfortunate Reading

Sometimes I think it's unfortunate that I like to read. I will read almost anything, but I never actually have the time to read everything I want. Lately, most of my reading is in the form of newspapers, news websites, and blogs. I can finish reading articles and blog entries in a short amount of time. There is one flaw... I become soooo frustrated with what I read. Tho not everything. There are some articles and blogs that just crack me up. And for that, I'm greatly thankful.

I previously wrote an entry about celebrities and how I believe they can push their views on other individuals. Well there are probably a million (at least) non-celebrities who do the same thing. And I can't stand to read individuals shout their beliefs to everyone. (Yes, I know. I don't have to read what they write. My fault entirely. That's why I titled this "unfortunate reading.")

Talks on religion bother me the most. And this is coming from a not-so-great-Christian. I'm reading bloggers "shout" at one another on their blogs. Sometimes it's hard to understand emotion in e-mail and blogs, but I've noticed the tone in which blogs and comments are written, and I call it shouting. I just want to roll my eyes, and tell them "you just don't get it." To both sides of the issues. Or many sides. I want to say it to the other Christians, to the Atheists, to the Jewish, to the Muslims, etc.... All of them. Who really listens when someone is shouting religion at you?

I came across a blog where a Christian was providing Bible verse after Bible verse to an Atheist in attempting to explain reasoning for present day events. All I could think was, "the verses are rolling off deaf ears." Basically what I mean is, an Atheist doesn't believe in a god so why would they pay attention to writings from a text divinely written by God? They don't speak the same language. So to speak. And the same thing happens from the standpoint of the Atheist. An Atheist can provide their explainations to events, but they don't see the standpoint of the Christian. Effective communication will not happen until both sides look from the other point of view. You don't have agree with that point of view, but you just have to see what it looks like. Just my two cents.

I've always wanted to know why people believe what they believe. In many aspects of their worldview. Why do people choose to be a Democrat rather than a Republican? Why an Independent? Do you wear socks with your sandles? Why? Do you eat the crust on the bread? Why? Do you believe in love? Why? Why does someone believe in Allah and not God? God and not Allah? Why do I write this blog? Why do I read other blogs when they drive me nuts? Etc.... Some answers are very simple, "because, damn it, I like it." And many times, that works for me. Other times, I have to dig a little deeper.

Remember to take time out from asking yourself these questions, because, well, we all need a break from thinking too much. At least I get tired from thinking on occassion.

Have a good day everyone.

#21

(Okay, I'm going to do more than just scratch the surface as to who I am.)

For ten long years I've had the grand opportunity to suffer from depression, and today I have the need to talk about it. I should have talked about it over the weekend because it was a bad weekend for me, but when you're depressed, you don't feel like doing crap.

Ten years. You'd think I'd be over it by now. At least I thought so. Shrinks haven't help, so I don't visit them anymore. I'm on medication for depression for the third time in 10 years. The first medication was good old fashion Prozac. That probably worked a little too well. I did things I wouldn't normally do. Wellbutrin was the next med during the beginning of graduate school. And now I'm on Wellbutrin XL. Now I haven't taken these meds during the whole ten years, but some parts of the 10 years. I really hate taking medication. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it. But a couple of weeks ago I was sitting on my couch at nighttime, with the lights out thinking, "I can't do this anymore." I wasn't thinking suicide. That thought came and went 10 years ago, but I was thinking that I have to do something. Nothing seemed to work and I thought, well I'll try Wellbutrin again. Fuck. I hate it. At least I'm not taking sleeping pills this time. I don't dread going to sleep like I once did.

Having this for so many years, I pay attention to my good days and bad days. To my highs and lows. I pay attention to what habits are forming, where my thoughts turn to, what actions I want to take, and etc. I compare what I think and do today, to how I use to think and act in the past. It gives me an idea of how well or how bad I am doing. For example... yesterday I was talking on the phone with my best friend (who I just recently discussed my depression issues with) and all I wanted to do was go to a corner in my bedroom and sit there. Just sit. Lights off. Curled up in a ball. Now it's a good thing I was talking with my friend because I couldn't really go to the corner, curl in a ball formation and sit there while talking to her.

I remember the couple of times when I have done just that. I was 18 living at home with my parents, just before entering college. I was sitting on my bed (situated in the corner of my room), and I had this complete urge to take everything down from my walls. Everything. All my posters. And I had plenty of posters. So that's what I did. Took all my posters and pictures off the wall and sank into the corner on my bed. I don't know how long I sat there. Could have been up to an hour. I could sit somewhere and not move for the longest time.

I've come to find out that I write more on serious subjects than others. At least at this point in my life. I don't usually write serious entires in this blog. I've deleted the one truely serious entry I've written in this blog. I think only one person read it. It was an event that I had to voice my pain and anger. Writing about it helped but over time I realized that it didn't need to be in this blog. I've now kept it for myself.

Bare with me for this "season" of my life right now. At least with entries such as this.

Other than that, have a good day.

Killing to pay for Medical Bills

I came across a newspaper article about a man plotting to kill a Federal employee so the United States' government will pay for his medical bills. What are the people in this country thinking?

How is this possible you ask? People in prison must be cared for. It's the humane thing to do. Three square meals a day. Shelter. A bed. Interaction with people (though the men must be careful to not drop the soap). Entertainment (did I read somewhere that some prisons have Sega or XBox?) And medical insurance. If a prisoner is sick, they must receive medical care.

So here's this guy who is deep in debt, medical expenses no less, and realizes the government will take care of his medical needs if he's in prison. So who's the easy target? A postal worker. An unsuspecting postal worker who has delivered the mail to this attempted murderer for years. (The postal worker survived the shooting, but not without some life altering damages to his body).

The postal worker and his family will probably be paying the medical bills (beyond what the insurance doesn't pay). Good thing Federal employees have good insurance. The family won't be receiving money from this attempted murderer, because, well, he had no money to begin with.

Now, I don't know how this will play out. The United States Postal Service is in charge of this investigation. (Didn't realize they were the new police force). But I can't help but wonder how many more lunatics are going to try this tactic?