2011 in Review

Another year comes to a close and I can’t say that I’ll be sorry to see this one go. I know for many people it was one they would love to turn from and never look back on. Kind of like Lots wife looking back on Sodom and Gomorrah then turning into a pillar of salt but for me I’m thinking about it more in terms of Medusa. Maybe if I don’t look it straight in the eye I won’t turn to stone.  It had its ups and downs much like any other year but this one apparently had a lesson for me to learn. I got the message but I think it is in Greek and I am still unsure of the lesson. I may never know what the lesson was and I think I might be ok with that or at the very least come to terms with it.

This is the year that joblessness came for me. It didn’t just come for me it bitched slapped me upside of the head. Bastard. This has been a first for me. My first job was as a babysitter at the age of 11. My brother and I were also entrepreneurs growing up. We used to go crickin’ and catch crawfish so sell to our neighbor to give to his coon dogs during training. We also had a couple of rabbits and would sell their poop to people for their gardens. Oh yeah, we were slick. I baby sat all through high school then went to work at a camp during the summers. Once I got to college I worked two jobs while in school and worked at the camp in the summers. Then I became a nanny…well, you get the idea. I have always worked. Always.

I have now been out of work for 9 months. Which I have to tell you is totally sucktastic. It isn’t for the lack of trying to find another job. I have now sent out 33 resumes (give or take one or two). The continued lack of response from prospective employers is totally disheartening. This hard to explain but it is really hard on your self esteem. I have tried to explain it a couple of times and haven’t really done a good job. Losing your job (having it taken from you) and not being able to find another job right away just does something to you. I mean, do I smell? Did I offend? Do I have a booger hanging out of my nose? I have also tried to explain how I feel like I am just on vacation from my job. It is like I will be going back to work at anytime and I have been just playing. I know this feeling will go away once I have another job. I just kind of feel like I am in my own never ending Groundhog’s Day and am waiting to wake up to a different day.

My family also lost my cousin Eddie John this past month. It has been super hard on my Mom who is the youngest of 9 children and because of this has had to see a lot of her family go before her. My cousin, Nettie, (one of Eddie John’s girls) is getting “married” in a couple of weeks but when Eddie John was in the hospital and they knew it wouldn’t be much longer Nettie and her fiancée brought their priest to the hospital and got married in front of her dad. The doctors cut back a bit on his morphine so that he would be aware of the ceremony. He passed away a couple of days later.

Good parts of 2011 have been Virginia and this house. Being in a different place while I recover from the last 5 years (well, 3 really) has been unbelievably great. Getting to reconnect with old friends has been amazing. Angus and Ophelia have been pretty happy having me around all the time. Sitting on a porch swing reading a book and drinking lemonade is my kind of happy.

Maybe I should have gone to the store and gotten some good luck foods. Black Eyed Peas, Lentils, Cabbage, Doughnuts…I could use all the help I can get.

So, 2011, I wish you farewell. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Congress Can Kiss My...

Dear Congress,

I hope that as you sit in your warm house that is paid for off the backs of hard working Americans that you are enjoying the company of your camera ready family, your ostentatiously decorated home, and your snifter of 80 year old brandy that you, at the very LEAST, suffer some sort of twinge of conscience at the mess you left for Americans during this holiday season. American’s who can barely afford to put food on their tables let alone buy gifts for their families.

Just to remind you, that as you play out an old spaghetti western by staging a standoff in the middle of America’s dusty streets while staring each other in the eye at high noon, myself and millions of Americans  are out of work. Americans who are quite eager to work, actually, we WANT to work. Americans, who would be more than happy to be blessed with a simple cup of hot chocolate, a Charlie Brown tree, and give their children at least one present a piece, but please don’t worry about us…we are ONLY the people that voted you into office. I guess we are of no consequence to you.

What really does my head in is the fact that we as Americans voted you into office. We voted you in on promises that you made and that we so naively believed. You like to describe yourselves as “civil servants” or at least that is what you say during an election year, however, the only people I see you serving are yourselves. I actually have wanted to believe in our system but apparently I am gullible enough to have fallen for something that has been nothing but an elaborate game of smoke and mirrors. Does anyone have a bridge in Brooklyn that they want to sell me?

No wonder Americans are disenfranchised with their government. You all sit in your posh offices with your errand runners and your “perks” that you get from big companies trying to look like they aren’t buying your backing. Come on, really?!?!?! Golf trips on private jets?!?!?!?! And you wonder why people took to the streets in protest. What a slap in the face!! It is the modern day “let them eat cake.”

My wish and hope for you this holiday season is that the over abundance of food that you are going to consume offers you not only no feeling of fullness but also gives you indigestion. After that, I hope you can’t find any Tums or Pepto-Bismol.  I hope the sleep that you get is hard won, offers you no real feeling of restfulness, and is plagued by nightmares. My wish for you is that you are blessed with whiny children who suffer from a grand sense of entitlement.  

So as Christmas rapidly approaches and I have to borrow money from my family for gas just so I can spend Christmas with them you will excuse me my anger and disgust that you have left Americans hanging with a dark cloud over their holiday. And you will understand that  I cannot say that I wish you a Merry Christmas, a blessed Hanukkah, and/or the Happiest of Holidays because I would be lying, however, I do wish it for my fellow Americans who are left to wonder what awaits us on January 1.

Kathi Seymour

“To Affirm is to Make Firm”

This particular fortune cookie fortune makes me chuckle (chortle if you will), especially when I add the social game phrase “in bed.” Admit it, you giggled too…or at the very least, smiled. I will try not to let my mind slip into the gutter, where it spends much of its time…and it is never alone (I won’t name name’s but you know who you are). After thinking about what this fortune was actually saying and also putting it into a search engine I realized what it was telling me…and it didn’t have anything to do with staying in bed.

The definition of “affirm” is “to declare to be true; assert positively.” It is said that repeating affirmations can be a pretty powerful brain training technique. I’m guessing this could or would be considered a mantra. To affirm something is to make it firm. This means you are making your desired ambition or goal real. You are making positive statements or affirmations about your end goal. These mantras are repeated over and over again which in turn can train the subconscious mind into finding ways to make your goals become real.

One website I visited had 7 rules to affirming your life: use present tense, be positive, be specific, short & easy, include feelings and strong desire, repeat anytime, anywhere, rinse and repeat. Ok, so it really didn’t say anything about rinsing but my mind sidetracked itself. The last one actually said “You may repeat affirmations aloud, mentally, or by writing them down.” That particular rule reminded me of my impressionable preteen and teen age years. Do you remember when you would have a crush on someone and you would write their name with yours? It could have been “Kathi & Todd”, “Kathi loves Todd”, “Todd loves Kathi”, or “Kathi & Todd 4ever”. Or you would write your name like you were married to that other person (boys may or may not have done this). Example: “Katherine Black”. You would copy this endlessly on your notebook. Every chance you got you would write it over and over and over and over again. I’m so glad this particular exercise in affirming to make firm didn’t work. One…I could have been branded a stalker if my subconscious mind worked to make it come true and Two…it could have worked and I would have ended up with a moniker like “Katherine Butts” (names have been changed to protect the innocence).

I think I will keep this fortune focused on my current state of joblessness. My desire to have a job is strong and my will is most willing, just ask it. It isn’t as if I am not trying…because I am. I have sent out 30 resumes/applications give or take one or two. I have to keep track of them so that the unemployment agency can verify. So, here it goes…”I will find a job in the very near future. It will be a job that compliments my abilities and allows me to still have a life. My employers will be kind and not shady. They will value me as an employee and never take me for granted. They will not ask me to lie or withhold information from customers.” CRAP! That is too long isn’t it? Ok, ok, how about this…”JOB NOW”.

While writing this blog entry I realized that the name of my blog is actually an exercise in affirming to make firm. I am attempting to write myself to the right side of happy. So every time I submit a new entry it is like affirming my firmness in being firm about my intent to be happy. Well, something like that anyway.

Happy side of write…thanks Yoda!

Towers of Power

This may or may not be a surprise to people but I love shoes. Ok, so this isn’t a surprise to my really good friends. However, to people that only know me on the surface or have made a snap judgment of me by my tomboyish attire would be surprised that I have a thing for Steve Madden, Nine West, Chinese Laundry, and to many others to name. I have drooled over Manolo Blahnik all the while knowing that I will never own a pair, like ever. This is THE thing that I can relate to with Sarah Jessica Parker’s character Carrie Bradshaw in Sex in the City. Shoes!!! I have witnessed the parting of the masses, a light shining down on the perfect pair of shoes, the angels singing, and me saying “Hello lover.”

Shoes are like the perfect thing to shop for when you are in a funk. You never have to worry about if they make your butt look big or them not fitting if you gained 10 pounds. The only time that you might not buy a particular pair of shoes is if you have cankles and in that case buy the shoes but just wear a really long pair of pants. I wonder if shoes with an ankle belt or strap would have the same slimming effect on your ankles that a belt does on your waist. You know, give the illusion of an ankle…something to ponder.  I have actually fallen in love with a pair of shoes, purchased them, and then bought an outfit to go with those shoes.

Shoes have never let me down even a particularly pesky pair in my possession that I know is going to kill me within a half an hour of putting them on. The torture of this particular pair is something I try to delay by not wearing them until I arrive at my destination. So I will wear flip flops or something like that in the truck until I arrive at the function. My Momma didn’t raise no dummy that’s for sure.

My particular shoe weakness is retro looking platforms with chunky heels. I loooovvvveeee them, like luvre. I love the old schoolness of them. I love how they make me feel taller, sexier, and they do something to my persona. We go together like Mickey and Mouse.

I have this pair of Steve Madden boots that are my most prized foot wear possession. I call them the “Towers of Power”. In them I am slimmer, taller, and ready to kick butt. The towers of power have traveled overseas with me. They are actually quite comfortable. They have been to see the statue of Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens next to Hyde Park in London. They have been up and down High Street in Edinburgh, Scotland. They were with me while I drank tea at The Elephant House and gazed at Edinburgh Castle. They have walked the streets of Dublin, Ireland. They have walked the streets of New York City, Washington DC, and Naptown. I will mourn their loss when they finally meet their demise.

So, don’t judge me on my love of shoes or not until you have at least walked a mile in a pair of them.

Write side of happy with a really awesome pair of shoes.

Haiku! Bless You!

I dig haiku. It is a lovely combination of syllables…5, 7, and 5 to be exact. In theory, quite simple but letting go of a rhyming flow might throw one off. I always have to remind myself that it doesn't have to rhyme and actually it is even better when it doesn't. It is kind of random and I think that is what appeals to me.

My day in Haiku:

Migraine can piss off

The blinds stay down eyes covered
Head weighs like a ton

Walk the dog shades on
Pee poop times two here is food
Back to bed yes please

Words with Friends yes Kat
Yes qi is a word cheater
You suck scrabble cheat dot com

Excedrin my friend
Can kick in anytime please
Head may explode now

Park butt on the couch
Watch Charlie Brown Christmas SWEET
Pig-Pen made grunge cool

Post this mess to blog
PJ’s are calling my name
Yes bed here I come

Write Side of Happy

No Forwarding Address

According to Wikipedia, whychristmas.com, and several other websites the custom of sending the Christmas card was started my Sir Henry Cole in 1843. Sir Henry was a government worker in the UK who was interested in how the “common folk” could use the new “public post office.” He commissioned his artist friend John Horsley to design the card. The three panel card sold for 1 shilling each which is 5 pence today. One of Sir Henry’s first cards was auctioned off in 2001. He had sent it to his grandmother. It sold for 22,500 pounds. All this time I thought it was Hallmark that did the deed.

For the past several years, I have not sent out Christmas cards. I kind of thought it was a waste of time, money, and trees. It felt like a compulsory act that loomed over your head every year. There was this rush to beat others in the sending of the cards. It was now an obligation and not because you really wanted too. You were keeping greeting card relationships going with people that you hadn’t seen in years and many you didn’t even really like. Let’s not forget when you would send a card to everyone in your address book and only get 10 back from so called friends.  For a while, before I stopped I did “weed” out some of the recipients. Actually, every other year or so I would go through my address book and erase people that I hadn’t received a card from in years or hadn’t talked to in just as long.

This year for Christmas I live in a normal size house that allows me to decorate more than I have in 5 years. I pulled out all of my boxed up Christmas decorations and rummaged through them. In those boxes I found 10 different styles of Christmas cards that were left over from years past. So, since I currently have soooooo much time on my hands I decided to send out the cards with the prerequisite that I, one…actually like the person(s) and two…that I have spoken to them in the last year.

While perusing through my address book and deciding who made the cut and who didn’t (a naughty or nice list if you will) I came upon a couple of names that made my stomach flip and my heart kind of constrict. They were the names of friends and family who have passed away. People, who just because they had died didn’t mean I could erase them from my book. These people are ones that I actually would love to send a card too. Oh hell, I’d much rather talk to them or in certain cases belly up to a bar with them and drink a few drinks.  I miss the hell out them.

So, the cards to the living are sent. To my friends who aren’t here, I still think of you and I smile.

Write side of happy…where ever they are.

Rite of Passage

In high school I was enrolled in the “academic” track of classes. This meant that the students in these classes were slightly accelerated to give us a boost going into college or if you were like a couple of us you thought that maybe you would get to slack off a little bit your senior year. At Smethport Area Junior Senior High School a rite of passage occurred in your junior year.  This was English with Coach Carl Defilippi aka Del. I was in his English 11A class. One of Del’s famous assignments was writing about an event that changed our lives. Here is my paper…unedited (mostly).  

Dreams Destroyed by Kathi Seymour, English 11A

“My whole outlook on life changed in just five minutes. My world as I knew it came crumbling down and my innocence ended. I was mortified that such a thing could be true. But it was. I could have died the day…the day I found out Santa Claus wasn’t real. From that day on, that whole year was a disaster.

From the time I can remember I was taught that Santa Claus was a jolly old man who liked the color red. He had a laugh that started from somewhere deep inside. When you heard his “HO HO HO”, you couldn’t help but join right in. I was always faithful to Kris Kringle. Every Christmas season I would beg my mom to bundle up my brother and me and take us to the mall. I just had to sit on Santa Claus’s lap. I was so glad to do it but my brother who was still young and at the impressionable age let out blood curdling howls that would freak-out the other “little kids. Me, I just sat back and told Santa everything I wanted. Then before I would leave I would give Santa a little kiss on the cheek and he would look into his stocking that was hanging on the side of his chair. Then to my delight he would pull out a sucker. I would be content the whole way home.

Then one awful Christmas Eve I went to bed after giving my mother a letter and asking her to put out cookies and milk. For the past two months I took great care to be a good kid even though the whole summer I was a royal terror. Mom had told me that Santa doesn’t cater to little girls who are bad. So I promptly turned my reign of terror into a sweet little kid that would do practically everything her parents asked.

After thinking how good I had been I climbed into bed. It didn’t take me very long to fall asleep. Then I was rudely awakened from my dreams of candy and presents by a loud thud that came from my parent’s room. I sleepily crawled out of bed and softly padded across my room. I got down on my hands and knees and looked underneath my door. My parents were carrying a big box. Then they started to go down the stairs, I hopped up and opened my door. I silently crept to the banister and look over the railing.

What I saw changed my life forever. Inside that box were presents. I felt like the weight of the world landed on my shoulders. Tears came to my eyes. My little pug nose started to run. I let out a small sob. I ran back to my room and shut my door. I curled myself up into a little ball. I cried myself to sleep. The next morning when we got up to open our presents I was still depressed. I could hardly open them. I looked at my parents with disgust. My whole life I had looked up to them. Now they had let me down. They had lied to me. I felt betrayed and I wasn’t going to be alone. The next day I told my best friend Diane that Santa wasn’t real. She had a fit and started to bawl. She wouldn’t believe me. When she got home she found out I was right. She was mad for a week.

The world seemed cold and heartless. All those wasted letters. Those prayers to God to let Santa bring me what I asked were all in vain. There was no such thing as little elves that had bells on their shoes. There was no Santa’s work shop. No hammers steadily pounding toys together. Rudolph may have had a red nose but that didn’t really matter since there were no reindeer.

From that Christmas on I was forced to face the cruel fact that fairy tales weren’t true. There were no cupids to shoot their arrows and make everybody fall in love. Leprechauns couldn’t be chased down and be made to tell where they had hidden their gold. The Easter Bunny didn’t hide those beautiful colored eggs. No Great Pumpkin would appear at Halloween. Even the marvelous Superman and Wonder Woman weren’t real.

Somehow I managed not to tell my parents that I knew that Santa was a myth. Gradually my anger wore off. I thought maybe my mom and dad wanted me to believe in him so I had something to aim for. Old Saint Nick brought joy and hope into people’s lives. The spirit of Christmas also manages to make people kind and caring. But when the next Christmas rolled around and my brother begged to go see Santa Claus I got mad. Here was my little brother heading for disaster and disappointment. Someone had to tell him. I, of course, nominated myself. So that night after we got back I visited my brother in his room. I made him sit on the bed while I paced the floor. Suddenly I felt all grown up and important. My innocent little brother had dreams and great expectations. I looked into my brother’s big brown eyes. I couldn’t tell him. Something just stopped me. Here was this little kid who was just as devoted to a man with a white beard as I once used to be. I told him I forgot what I was going to say then walked out. I wasn’t going to ruin his life but someone else could.

I got mad at my parents for doing this to me. I never wanted to grow up and face cold hard reality. Now I had to throw out all my fantasies of a magical world that was located at the end of a rainbow.

I have barely lived through this experience. Sometimes I feel that it might have been good. The fact that there is no Santa Claus makes people try to be kinder. I myself try to spread the joy and happiness that I know Kris Kringle would. Sometimes I try to wish real hard to bring Santa Claus to life for all the children whose hearts belong to him. For this reason alone I know Santa would be proud. Love you Santa. No matter what anyone says.”

Um, dramatic much? Well, it worked. I got an “A” and Del read my paper to the whole class. He said, and I quote, “Your essay is most enjoyable; you project a theme in a most refreshing manner here. Good job.” Later on it was modified slightly and was published in the town paper at Christmas time under the heading “Believing in the Spirit that is Santa Claus.”

Still one of my favorite memories of high school right behind Mr. Porter’s “Your darn tooting, we hate Rasputin.”

Christmas writes happy and sparkly.