From Serenity to Weird City-folks

I miss the stillness that I had the opportunity of experiencing when I was in Texas. Just nothingness. Just wide open space- land- roads- simplicity. It immediately absorbs all my frenzied electricity and I'm just free to be in the moment. That and the fact that I was sort of there without an agenda; I just wanted to be there, which was quite nice.

My mom's garden and dad's maintained fence lines along the parameter of acres and acres of pasture land filled me with joy. And yet I realize the work they put in to keeping a manicured yard and acres of farmland with cattle- it is a job in itself.

I don't know if I had the time or the space if I'd be such a gardener as my mother or if I'd be able to keep any and every plant alive and flourishing, but I'd like to think that I'd try. I often wonder now if I'll ever even have that opportunity, or if I'll just live in between concrete and communication frequencies- cell phones, cable TV, digital mobo-jombo that rumbles up First Avenue along with the M15 bus & straight through me.

It's never still here. Although, my sundeck in the summertime is pretty darn close. And sitting on a bench overlooking the East River along the promenade is pretty nice. And I do love the people watching- there are some really, interesting people in this city. Crazy. Weirdos. People who appear otherwise completely normal- but they aren't. (I know, aren't we all like this in some way or another....) Still, people really entertain me.

For instance, in my office just this week I was asked to help a new employee settle into her new workspace. She is taking over a desk of a present employee who is currently working "on site" daily. When I told the HR manager and one of the directors that I did not feel comfortable simply pillaging through someones desk and throwing his stuff into a new cubicle, I was reassured that he was completely fine with me scooting his things to anther desk and had "taken out everything he needed."

Really?! Because let me tell you what I found, moved and displayed around the office- all of which was in his desk. A neck cervical traction device- still in the UPS box it arrived in, ten 11X17 x-rays of his knee, 4 or 5 checkbooks, bank statements, Euros, 50 really nice bookmarks from Papyrus (weird, right?), a stash of cards, notes, letters from girls, sisters, and his mom back home in the UK, a Spice Girls CD, a copy of My Sisters Keeper , flip-flops and three pornographic magazines published in the UK tucked neatly in a company logoed leather binder- those kind that are made for legal pads. So, here I am one of maybe seven women in an office full of men, moving someones porn for him. Really?! Show some freaking decency. Couth. Manners. (I don't even want to know...!)

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Then, I mention to some people, how if I were a meaner individual I could really do some serious damage, or at least play a good prank. Somehow the word got back to the culprit who sends me an email in which he states, "Hi Steph. that’s what I get for not clearing out my desk myself. Some discretion would be great... thanks! "

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Discretion?! REALLY?! Cause I'm thinking about hanging a freaking banner in the pantry. And spell my name right- it is in my email address, afterall! Weird people. And this is just one interaction on one day. Today- it's all a buzz over the World Cup, like an elementary school the last day of class before summer vacation. It's nuts. Banners hanging, balloons, flags, rivalries...

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And who I'm I? I'm the tattooed one that no one suspects. "I didn't see you as that type," a friend told me a church. And I wonder, what type is that? The tattooed type? Then again, I'm a little weird.

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And why the birds? Well, I wasn't brave enough to get "are you not worth more than they" tattooed across my shoulders, but maybe next time.