Safe List?

This topic has been on my mind a lot recently, and I think it's time I got out of the "stewing in silence" routine and just say what I believe.

There are some social clubs in my area that believe it's ok to list off who is and isn't "safe" according to their own personal standards. One individual and a few of their clique have deemed themselves able to discern for everyone, who is safe and who is unsafe.

How dare you stand up and tell people who they can and cannot like, who they can and cannot be around, who is safe and unsafe in your eyes. You aren't my parent, my relationship partner, my parole officer, judge, jury, executioner, or legal guardian. I will befriend whomever I wish to befriend based on my own methods of vetting personalities, not yours. I will join whatever clubs I wish to join, based on my own abilities to decide for myself who is and is not good for me. If I get burned, then I've learned to listen to my gut feelings.

The creator of said list gives me the willies. Creeps me out big time. So do their friends. All of them. They are gossipy, merciless, two-faced cowards. They are no different than the ones they wish others to be disassociated from.

I won't tell you who you can be friends with, and you can kindly keep your nose out of my business, because it's not yours. I won't speak for others, but your alienation of some very amazing people because they aren't on YOUR "safe list" is disgusting. This makes you lesser than those you aim to make people avoid.

Absence of Life

This is probably a bad idea, but sobriety is slightly absent of my conscience, therefore I feel it's probably a good time to "let it out" so to speak.

Death.

When my father died suddenly of a massive heart-attack, aneurism and stroke all within 10 seconds time frame, I mourned, but for about five hours. Then I moved on. I want to state here that not everyone is like me. I believe myself to be a "freak of nature" in more than one respect. I don't have a natural grieving process.

In my area, in my "clan of like minded weirdos", two people have left this planet of their own accord. I'm not sure why, I'm not one to speculate their mental state as they decided that they were not worthy of the air the trees provide, the food fields nourished their bodies with prior to their decision. Rejecting of the love and support of others. It's being selfish, yet selfless.

Suicide perplexes me. It's not logical. We are to live until we die in order to complete our lives, not live, dying to be in nonexistence. It just doesn't make sense. And this comes from someone who thinks once a week about it.

I'm envious of those who can cry over a friend. I'm just not able to. :/

Aging

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned the ripe "young" age of 41. My son called me. My daughter came by and spent some time with me. My guy woke me at 3:30am and wished me a happy birthday. The three people I cherish most in my life had me grinning all day long. Everyone else who sent their wishes were met with smiles as well. This was a good birthday.

I didn't get a cake, or presents. I don't need any of that. I have what I need already.

One of the things I have learned over the years is that as you do get older, the "stuff" in your life doesn't matter. Big, expensive furniture, top line appliances, eating out 3-4 times a week, it ultimately doesn't hold a place in my life as it stands now. This is not because I'm not a wealthy person - I'm not by any stretch of the imagination - but because I don't put a lot of sentimental value in things that could burn in a house fire. I put value in a text message or conversation that opens up and spills the pent up words. I put value in hearing "I love you". I put value in hearing about my son's day, or my daughters crazy laughter, or seeing my guys beautiful smile. This is what matters to me.

Yesterday I also found myself thinking about the broken relationships with some family members. As I age (really, I'm not aging, I'm just leveling like you do with a character in a video game, gaining experience so I can get to dual wield fireballs), I have found that where I like my "cave" time - my precious alone quiet time - I'm getting too much of it. This doesn't mean I'm going to run off to my mother's home and hang out there all night every night, or to my sister's residence and do the same. What it means is that at some point, I need to eject myself from my cave in a comfortable time frame, and maybe let some mending of past hurts occur.

Perhaps, when I'm not so tired.

What to think when you're all thought out.

Very busy day today. Too much stress. Too much "high priority" on low importance issues. Circle talk. Unclear answers.

It was a good day, and it was a bad day. Better yet, we shall define it as the "day that saw both ends of the spectrum equally". I couldn't laugh or cry. I could only sit there and squint shut my eyes, hoping to God it would all just finish and I could move on to tomorrow.

In all of that, I had my bright moonlight. The light that is embracing, gentle, and loving. Never judging, always supportive. He was there to help me muddle through. When I say that I love and adore him, really, I mean it. He kept me balanced and sane.

Now, after all is done and the sun has settled off the horizon, and snows blow in from the front, I can't help but think that in the great scheme of things, because I have love, I have everything.

I'm really trying. I swear.

Lots of things have been happening lately. Most of it has been work related. Every day, I arrive to 3-4 jobs to perform within an 8 hour day. If I'm lucky, I manage to do 1.25 of the 3-4 thanks to everyday drama, problems with whatever process that needs to be re-evaluated and changed to make drama-laden coworker happy. Oh, good. I have to train an unwilling soul on a system he knew 10 years ago. We all know how this ends. I've only been at the company 5 months, and am stronger at the systems as well as management and negotiations where other employees are concerned. Did I mention that I'm not a manager? Ok, I'll say it now then: I am not a manager.

We had an issue arise at work where the Warehouse Manager and the Tool Evaluator had a bizarre display of verbal and emotional hostility. I can usually take a few minutes, settle both of them down, then run off screaming at a different manager about something that wasn't done properly by another division teammate. (I am not a manager) Forgetting to remove my tool gloves, I rub my face in frustration, almost depositing shiny, near microscopic pieces of aluminum shard into my face as splinters. (this is a typical day)

Back to the hostility. WM and TE. I was not able to extinguish this fire. It was blazing hot and fast, and was about to spread to other employees. Shooing them out as quick as I could, I had to walk away with my hands raised. This was one I could not get involved in. Walk away, quickly, before you are sucked into it. I'm pretty certain I didn't walk, but sprinted as though I had just found a live nuke.

I go home sick, have a horrible weekend. Migraine, stress, all of it. Just lumped right onto my plate, and the pile just grows higher and higher. I get back to work today, and wind up being called into the site managers office to have a sit down, complete with my interpretation of what had occurred. Problem: I really enjoy working with both TE and WM. They are great. They really are. WM is one of the most supportive, enjoyable managers I have ever had the chance to work with, and I'd gladly work for him any day. TE is a vast pool of tool knowledge. If you knew what I did, you'd appreciate it. Regardless, he has taught me a ton where tools are concerned, as well as patience and being more gentle at work.

I love my job.
I'm exhausted though.

I'm going to be 41 soon. After reading all the stuff I tend to deal with, I think you can empathize with the exhaustion. I come home and just don't want to think, move, or deal with anything. I just want to text my sweetheart and talk about anything under the sun. I want to cuddle, be loved on.

I'm trying. I really am.