Addendum to previous post

*sighs deeply*

I need to make a correction to my previous post. I used the word "block" because that is what ended up happening to my friend's walls. I had only intended to put them in the "Can't See Me" file for the duration it took me to recollect my happy thoughts.

Apparently you can't do that anymore. Once you do that, the person becomes blocked and then the only way to reconnect with them, is to resend a friend request. A lot of hassle and I think Facebook should make that feature work the way it used to, but that's a subject for another day.

So my friends got blocked. It was not what I intended, but is what happened. So at the time I wrote my previous post, I was aware of what had happened and used the word "blocked."

I explain it in detail now because one of the two friends took great offense at my blog post and accused me of lying in the message I sent to explain what had happened and why I now needed to send another friend request. Before you ask, of course it is the same friend who was making incorrect accusations the day before too, despite my words being visible in black & white.

I was finding the entire situation very distressing, as no one wants to argue with the people they care about. However, things have turned out fine with the friend who's Facebook page I had hijacked in bad form. My apology was accepted and we've since had a laugh about it. (In retrospect, I've known this friend much longer, since we were kids, and perhaps he simply has a better understanding of me.)

I fear the situation with my second friend may be approaching Lost Cause territory, which is a shame.

The moral of this story: do not hijack people's Facebook pages to carry on an argument and (I'm having this one made in to a tattoo that will go across my hands so that in the future if I'm tempted, I'll be able to see it before I start typing) NEVER get in to debates over religion or politics.

You're not right just because you said you were

I don’t imagine many people enjoy being wrong… but having grown up in a house where adults never say they’re sorry or admit to wrongdoings, I’ve made it a point to admit to my faults. I don’t do it for any magnanimous purpose, I simply don’t want anyone ever likening me to those people.

You’d think that saying you’re sorry would be something meaningful, but it isn’t always. Take my eleven year old, for example. He says he’s sorry all the time, though I think he’s actually sorry that he got caught or sorry that he has to listen to my scolding. Understandable. He is, after all, only eleven.

I apologized to a friend yesterday. I was in a bad mood and something I read on his Facebook page set me off. I posted a comment about it, which I thought was pretty mild, but another friend took up the gauntlet and away we went pecking at each other. In the end I realized that while my gripe was legitimate, the manner in which I chose to handle it wasn’t and so I apologized. You’d expect an honest apology would be well met. You’d be wrong.

The situation continued to denigrate throughout the day and this morning, I ended up blocking both friends. Pretty sad, eh?

I love that Facebook reconnects us with old friends, but maybe there should be an instruction manual that includes a section on how to balance who you remember people being with whom they’ve become. I haven’t seen either friend in over 20 years and remember them both as being talented men with great senses of humor. They’ve grown up to be cantankerous old farts who like to grumble about the government and behead (figuratively) anyone who disagrees with them.

Interestingly, most people I run in to after 20 years comment on how I’m pretty much the same person, perhaps a little wiser, definitely a little heavier, and still in possession of the sense of humor I’ve always been known for. That’s nice to hear. But not everything is as it appears.

One change is that I’ve gone to college and actually just received word yesterday that my request to continue working on my Masters will most likely be granted. (Excellent news, but I digress.) My studies in Communication included coursework in Argumentation, very much like debate, where you are taught how to successfully argue and also what constitutes an effective argument. Turns out, as I suspected, saying things like “Yeah, well, you’re ugly” is considered a poor form of argumentation, no matter how satisfying it is to yell.

I am thinking of this because during the course of yesterday’s kerfuffle, twice I was accused of saying something I hadn’t said. This was odd because both accusations were of the “poor me” variety, an area I try to avoid arguing from as I’ve been taught it’s a place of weakness, but mostly because our argument was in written form so it was clearly in black & white that I had not said those things.

At one point, I was even accused of trying to make myself out to be the innocent party with no part in any of the blame… If that’s how I felt, why did I apologize, I asked? The answer was that I must have felt at fault, which I was, and that no one else had any reason to apologize. Hmmm. Really? Not even for making negative and false accusations at me? I see. Okay then. BLOCK.

Perhaps blocking friends is extreme and perhaps, too, I’ll get over it and take the block off. But first I would share one bit of advice: never argue with someone who has been professionally trained at it, unless you have been too. Not only are the trained taught to argue above board and in facts, they are also trained to recognize people who argue from places of weakness.

If you argue from weakness, you won’t stand a chance, even if I’m the one initially at fault. As soon as you lower yourself to arguing emotionally, I’ve won… even if I haven’t.

Here’s another bit of advice, if you ever get the chance, take Argumentation! Imagine if we all conducted our differences of opinion with maturity, facts, and mutual respect. Holy crap! We might actually start settling things amicably!

But in the meantime, we soldier on… and you know what? My friends are ugly!!! Well, their arguing styles are, anyway. (LMAO!)

From high road to side of the road

And on the subject of "Wow, can things change fast or what?" Now I've gone from single mom with three jobs to single Mom in need of a job. With the election results now in, I will officially be unemployed by January.

Here's my ad:

Job Hunting: Is anyone in need of an exceptional writer with a rich background in media, public relations, and advertising? Also a great graphic designer and knowledgeable about tourism, marketing, and broadcasting! An energetic, driven person with a quirky sense of humor and keen fashion sense.


How do I post my resume up here? I still have my two part time jobs, but the pressure is certainly on to come up with a plan, isn't it! Let me know if you hear of anything I'd be good for. No politics, though... I'm not cut out for it. Definitely not my cup of tea. I like playing nice and its all too sketchy for this Pollyanna.

Wouldn't you know, just when the house I want to buy finally comes available!!! Always with the timing! Let's get this girl employed, people! Biba "Cindy gets a job!" Biba!!!

Taking the higher road...

I’ve been so busy of late, juggling motherhood, three jobs, and volunteering at the radio station, that I haven’t had the time or energy to blog… but found inspiration today in the most unsettling way.

Any of my coworkers could tell you that I’m not really cut out to work in politics. I’m either too naïve, too nice, too sensitive, or too honest – your pick, as I’ve been told that they all apply. One thing I do know is that you will never see me running for public office and my hat is off to anyone who does.

You’d think after so many years working in media, I’d of developed thick skin, but I haven’t. Nor have I developed an ability to let people talking smack about those I care about roll off my back… I tend to come out swinging and it’s not unheard of for me to end up smacking myself in the face at the same time. But there are depths to which I will never sink and one of those is attacking someone’s children.

In the recent battle for the Republican seat in the upcoming election for Governor of Guam, I have been very disheartened to witness some of the worst examples of dirty politicking that I have ever seen. This had already been a tough campaign period for me as someone I consider a friend is a candidate on the team opposing mine, which ironically is also made up of people I’m friendly with. I remember telling him, more than a year ago, that he was going to make my life very difficult, as obviously, no one wants to choose between friends.

Regardless, we made a pact to continue being friends no matter how the upcoming election should turn out, but lately I fear that promise may end up falling apart through no fault of his or mine.

Despite my naïve hopes that this election would remain unsullied by personal attacks, it has become ugly and, worse, one of the ugliest races I’ve ever seen, let alone had a front row seat for. It has become nastier and more brutal as each day passes and my belief that elections can be conducted solely by promoting the merits and qualifications of a candidate have dwindled at the same pace.

It has gone beyond the traditional name calling that one might expect as each side has now had their children dragged in to the fray to be used as weapons to score points off the other. While I believe it may have been the Democrat team who actually plucked the string that shot the first arrow, sadly aimed at my friend on the other side, the supporters of both camps have since willingly embraced the negative tactics that will undoubtedly result in an irreparable implosion that will last long past the election this November.

It is sad to watch as people I respect and consider friends have their private lives dissected and demeaned in public, to watch as their children are used as political pawns, and as they themselves are manipulated in to behavior that they would typically be well above. I imagine that they would tell me not to worry, that this is the life they chose in order to be public servants, and that they are each in possession of the thick skin I so sorely lack. Perhaps they would be right, but I still grieve over a process that didn’t need to become so depressing to watch.

Today, however, I find my grief turning to outrage and anger as my own family has been dragged in to the fight, in particular, my eleven year old son.

Throughout this election process, I have been attacked in the online postings of a local newspaper, despite having no official role in the campaign of the team I support. Once I found I was being blamed for being part of something I knew nothing about and had to make several phone calls to figure out exactly what it was that I was being blamed for. Thick skin or no, I have taken these occurrences in stride as par for the course of having a job at the Governor’s office.

That said, there is absolutely no justifiable excuse for anyone to use my son in an attack on me or to do it from a place of anonymity where I cannot even properly defend him, as any mother would want to do. To call this attack cowardly does not even begin to describe my disgust or fury that someone would stoop so low as to use my child in such a way, particularly when I’ve been very open and clear about my feelings over using anyone’s child in such a manner.

Whoever these people are, as there is more than one, they do seem to know quite a bit about my personal life. In fact, they seem to be aware of intimate details about me and my son that only my closest friends would know. I find that nearly as distressing as hearing, then reading for myself, that my son was used in a public forum designed to hurt me for something that, once again, I played no role in.

False friends are like false prophets. Eventually they are found out for the fake poseurs they really are and I pray that God continues to guide my footsteps towards forgiveness and faith that no retribution I could dream up would even begin to compare with what He can dish out.

God bless all of the children who are being so sadly used at this time. Sometimes adults are just plain evil and the best we can do is try to lead by example, teaching our children that it is always best to take the higher road.

They don't stay "Toys R Us" kids forever... darn it!

My son officially entered Middle School this morning and I’m still trying to get over my separation anxiety. Its been hard for me to let go this year, mostly because middle school was the toughest set of years for me in public school and I'm afraid my son is going to get beat up because, like me, he has a smart aleck mouth that gets him in trouble and, also like me, my boy isn’t much of a brawler. (He's going to get clobbered, I just know it!)

As we’ve been getting ready for the new school year at the new school, my panic has seemed to increase in direct proportion to his desire to be more independent. In fact, he informed me this morning after my offer to walk him to class, “I am old enough not to have to have my mother walk me to class. I’m becoming a man, you know.”

No, I didn’t know… well, maybe I suspected, but have been clinging to my denial with more and more desperation rather than face, let alone accept, that fact that he's growing up and becoming a man. In some respects, he’s made it easy for me to remain in denial, especially his tendency towards absentmindedness. Like this morning, when he came to ask me what he should pack for P.E., specifically which kind of T-shirt he should use, long or short sleeved.

ME: “Didn’t we spend hours Friday night, going over what you’d need for P.E.?”

THE BOY: “Yes.”

ME: “And when we went through your shirts, which ones did we look at?”

THE BOY: “The short sleeved ones.”

ME: “Why?”

THE BOY: “Because the long sleeve ones would be too hot.”

ME: “So which kind do you think you should pack?”

THE BOY, in a tone that clearly implies guessing: “A short sleeved one?”

And the conversations go like that… him insisting he's becoming an adult and then doing something totally childlike. Hmmm, now that I think about it, I guess he is becoming a man, after all!

So in the end, after reminding him of everything I could think of, I “manned” up and let him go in to his new school by himself. Because he’s “becoming a man.”

A man who forgot his darn glasses when he got out of the car, but I can’t even make too big a deal about that since as I drove away, plagued with thoughts like “OMG! What if he can’t find the right bus to ride home after school?,” I realized that I had just made the biggest mistake a Mom who worries too much could ever make: I forgot to write our phone numbers down on all his new notebooks.

I wonder if Mr. Becoming A Man knows how to hitchhike?

It takes all flavors to make a good sundae

Last night, after watching The Daily Show, my son and I got in to a pretty detailed discussion of his heritage in response to a bit on the show about how there’s a movement afoot in the US mainland to change the 14th Amendment, which is the one that says all children born in the USA are automatically granted citizenship. The Daily Show had a great skit (see below) during which a tongue in cheek point was made that the movement is specifically targeting Mexicans versus children whose parents are from other countries, like Canada.

At the end of the bit, my son commented that I was pretty upset that they wanted to change the 14th Amendment. I reminded my son that while he is regularly picked on in school for being white, if we were living in the mainland, he would get probably still get picked on, but for being Mexican. His response was “Well, I just wouldn’t tell anyone I was Mexican.”

It made me sad to hear him say that, so I did what I always do in a situation like this: hauled out my soapbox and climbed aboard!

I told my son that he should never, ever be ashamed of being part Mexican, but rather he should be proud of his heritage. The Mexicans are a proud people with a reputation for being very hard workers. The problem some people in the US have with Mexicans is that their country tends to be much poorer than ours, so parents want to come to the US to get better jobs so they can take care of their families. Unfortunately, they usually are not given permission to come to the US but because taking care of their families is so important, they sneak in to the United States, thereby becoming illegal aliens.

I explained that there are many Americans who feel that illegal aliens take away our jobs and use up our resources, never mind that the areas they tend to settle in were actually once part of Mexico or that the jobs they typically take are ones that no one else wants to do anyway. I told Ezequiel that most Mexican parents are far more concerned with providing for their families than the prestige of a particular job, so they will take menial jobs like working in the crop fields, housecleaning, or building because making money for their families is what is most important to them.

Further, I told my son, his great-great grandfather fought in the Mexican Revolution, along side the great general, Pancho Villa, and that the Mexicans won their freedom from Spain, which is something he should be very proud of. He should be just as proud of being Mexican as he is of being Hungarian like his Nagy Papa (grandfather), New Zealander like his grandma, and yes, American, like his other grandpa.

I told him that one thing that bothered me sometimes about Americans is that they forget that the United States is a country that was founded by immigrants, people who left their original countries in search of a better way of life for their families. One of the principals of our country that has made it so great is that we welcome people to come and seek the American Dream. Yet lately, it seems that some Americans forget that what they're currently fighting against is the very thing that once made them so great.

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

I told my son that he should be proud of all the parts that make him who he is and never let anyone try to make him feel ashamed of his heritage. And when I was done and my soapbox put away, my son said to me (and I cringed as he opened his mouth, fearing that he was about to say “way too much information”),

“Mom, could you write that down for me. I want to remember everything you just said.”

I nearly cried.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Born in the U.S.A.
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

I now pronounce you husband and husband...

When I heard that Argentina had become the first South American country to legalize gay marriage, the song "Don't cry for me Argentina" ran through my head. Great song about a great country, which now joins seven other great countries that recognize same sex marriage: Belgium, Canada, Iceland, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, South Africa, Spain, and Sweden.

There are parts of Mexico and the United States where same sex marriages are performed and considered legal. That shows some positive initiative, though I will never get over the shock of California repealing gay marriage the year President Obama was elected. It was as though the U.S. could only handle one civil step forward at a time and having a black President trumped gay marriage in Calli.

I think its hilarious that the state of Oregon doesn't allow gay marriage, unless you're on the Coquille reservation. The Coquille tribe is recognized as a sovereign nation and perform gay marriages, despite being located within a state that doesn't recognize them. Its confusing that within the borders of a single country, there are states where gay marriage is legal and recognized, other states that recognize gay marriage but won't perform them, and states that neither recognize or allow same sex unions at all.

That phrasing is ridiculous, too. Same sex union vs. gay marriage. They're basically the same thing, its just one doesn't use the word "marriage" so that tight@ss people don't shrink themselves in to non-existence at hearing it used in an acceptable manner next to the word "gay."

Yet, this simple distinction has allowed same sex unions to flourish in more places around the world. Civil unions are recognized and performed in Andorra, Austria, Colombia, the Czech Republic, Denmark, Ecuador, Finland, France, Germany, Greenland, Hungary, Luxembourg, New Caledonia, New Zealand, Slovenia, Switzerland, Wallis and Futuna, the United Kingdom, Uruguay, and parts of Australia, Mexico, Venezuela, and the United States. That's quite a chunk of the world allowing gay people to live like an old married couple, as long as they don't use that word.

Like gay marriage, civil unions are recognized in places that don't allow them to be performed, like... well, ironically, just the Isle of Man. And I think that's the crux of the matter. I suspect, though admit I don't know for sure, that the number of men who are against gay marriage far exceeds the number of women who are opposed. Its a hunch, but I bet I'm right.

Gay marriage has been around for centuries, there's evidence of it as far back as the Ming dynasty - more irony, since China now appears to be one of the least tolerant countries in the world with respect to homosexuality. Nowhere is as intolerant as the Middle East, where homosexuality is punishable by death... interesting, as Mesopotamia is purported to be where mankind first came from, meaning homosexuality would have originated there, too.

I have never understood what the uproar was all about. I've always viewed two people loving each other as a good thing... certainly not something I'd be offended by, let alone consider killing anyone for. If its two consenting adults, what's the problem? How does Adam and Steve affect you anymore than Adam and Eve would? It seems to boil down to the idea of sexual relations and then I have to wonder, why are people so obsessed with other people's sex lives? Perverts!

Perhaps the most hypocritical aspect of all is that most men are not bothered in the least by the thought of two women together. In fact, for many, the idea of Eve and Eva together is a well cherished fantasy. Talk about your double standard! What that says to me is that its the idea of two men having sex that's the real problem and all I can wonder is, again, why are men thinking so much about two guys making love?

Kinda begs a whole 'nother question, doesn't it?

Personally, I think our world could use a lot more love in it... and as long as its amongst adults, I don't care who's doing the lovin'!!! And if the idea of two people loving each other bothers you... it really make me wonder what's wrong with YOU.

"Why never to ask favours from the graphic designer"

A friend of mine posted this on his Facebook wall earlier today and I laughed so hard, I was crying. If you've ever worked at an ad agency or art production department, you know people just like this. I feel so bad for the poor secretary, but oh my, this is so funny! If you want to read it in its entirety, go to www.27bslash6.com/missy.html. C.


From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 9.15am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Poster

Hi I opened the screen door yesterday and my cat got out and has been missing since then so I was wondering if you are not to busy you could make a poster for me. It has to be A4 and I will photocopy it and put it around my suburb this afternoon.

This is the only photo of her I have she answers to the name Missy and is black and white and about 8 months old. Missing on Harper street and my phone number.


Thanks Shan.



From:David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 9.26am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,
That is shocking news.

Although I have two clients expecting completed work this afternoon, I will, of course, drop everything and do whatever it takes to facilitate the speedy return of Missy.
Regards, David.


From: Shannon Walkley
ate: Monday 21 June 2010 9.37am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Poster

yeah OK thanks. I know you don't like cats but I am really worried about mine. I have to leave at 1pm today.


From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.17am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,
I never said I don't like cats. Attached poster as requested.
Regards, David.



















From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.24am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

yeah, that's not what I was looking for at all. it looks like a movie and how come the photo of Missy is so small?


From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.28am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,
It's a design thing. The cat is lost in the negative space.
Regards, David.


From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.33am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

That's just stupid. Can you do it properly please? I am extremely emotional over this and was up all night in tears. you seem to think it is funny. Can you make the photo bigger please and fix the text and do it in colour please. Thanks.


From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.46am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,
Having worked with designers for a few years now, I would have assumed you understood, despite our vague suggestions otherwise, we do not welcome constructive criticism. I don't come downstairs and tell you how to send text messages, log onto Facebook and look out of the window.

I have amended and attached the poster as per your instructions.
Regards, David.





















From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.59am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

This is worse than the other one. can you make it so it shows the whole photo of Missy and delete the stupid text that says missing Missy off it? I just want it to say Lost.


From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 20 11.14am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster






















From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.21am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

yeah, can you do the poster or not? I just want a photo and the word lost and the telephone number and when and where she was lost and her name. Not like a movie poster or anything stupid. I have to leave early today. If it was your cat I would help you. Thanks.


From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.32am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Awww

Dear Shannon,
I don't have a cat. I once agreed to look after a friend's cat for a week but after he dropped it off at my apartment and explained the concept of kitty litter, I kept the cat in a closed cardboard box in the shed and forgot about it.

I have attached the amended version of your poster as per your detailed instructions.
Regards, David.

























From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.47am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Awww

That's not my cat. where did you get that picture from? That cat is orange. I gave you a photo of my cat.


From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.58am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Awww

I know, but that one is cute. As Missy has quite possibly met any one of several violent ends, it is possible you might get a better cat out of this. If anybody calls and says "I haven't seen your orange cat but I did find a black and white one with its hind legs run over by a car, do you want it?" you can politely decline and save yourself a costly veterinarian bill.
Regards, David.


From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.07pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Awww

Please just use the photo I gave you.


From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.22pm
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww























From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.34pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

I didn't say there was a reward. I don't have $2000 dollars. What did you even put that there for? Apart from that it is perfect can you please remove the reward bit. Thanks Shan.


From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.42pm
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww


























From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.51pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

Can you just please take the reward bit off altogether? I have to leave in ten minutes and I still have to make photocopies of it.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.56pm
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww
























From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 1.03pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

Fine. That will have to do.

Bye bye Miss American Pie...

At noon today, the Acting Governor is going to sign a law raising the drinking age on Guam to 21 years of age. This will be in keeping with the states and a few of the territories. It shouldn't matter to me since I am well above the legal drinking age, but it does.

I am one of those people who believe that if you're old enough to vote, serve your country, get married, and/or be punished as an adult for breaking the law, you should also be considered old enough to consume an alcoholic beverage. I also think that passing a bill like this sends a message to parents that we didn't do our jobs well enough and now the government has to step in, even though research shows the vast majority of alcohol related mishaps involve people age 25 - 35.

That bothers me, but what bothers me even more is the way this law was passed. The issue of raising the legal age for alcohol consumption has appeared on Guam ballots twice. And has been voted down by the majority, twice. Yet the bill to raise the age was introduced and voted on exclusively by our Senators this time and now, our Acting Governor will add his vote making it a law.

My understanding of politics has always been that we elect our officials to represent us. According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of democracy is "a government by the people." That's what I was taught in school; a government by the people for the people. I guess I missed the part where it said, "unless your elected officials decide otherwise."

The ironic part of the passing of this law is that it has been called a political move designed to gain votes since this is an election year. If that's so, then this one of the dumbest things I have ever seen a collective group of politicians do! How does one endear themselves to the voting populous by doing the exact opposite of what they want?

The majority of the people have voted against this initiative, not once, but twice. Now our incumbent election hopefuls, and I have to admit, much as I hate it, that includes the Acting Governor (of whom I am a supporter, employee, and friend), have basically spit in the face of the majority. I'm no political analyst, but that seems like a really bad campaign strategy for all of them.

This sets a dire precedent on Guam. This says that no matter what the people want, our elected officials can and will do whatever they want. What's next? The people of Guam have voted against casino gambling twice, but perhaps our elected officials will decide that because of the money that could be generated from taxes, it is actually in our "best interest" (which was the argument used to go against the wishes of the people with regards to raising the drinking age). Who knows what issues are coming in the future?

The pending military buildup from US Marines and their families relocating from Okinawa to Guam has been a hot topic, especially now that the military has made it known that they intend to take more land than they'd originally said would happen. The people of Guam went nuts upon hearing the military intends to make the Pagat area off limits to civilians. I was greatly affronted by the amount of coral they intend to destroy in Apra Harbor.

We have implored our politicians to do something about this, but who knows what will happen if the military starts waving money in their faces? Rumor has it that the real reason our legislature passed this bill was because of the millions in money that could be had for roadway improvements. What's to stop that from happening again, with the military buildup or some other issue that is hotly debated in the community?

We have just been blindsided by our politicians and most of us don't get it yet, or begin to understand the ramifications. Its shocking and scary to those of us who do.

It will and has been argued that lives will be saved by the passage of this bill, except research doesn't support that. I don't expect much will change. If people between the age of 18 and 21 want to drink, they'll find a way to do it, and traffic accidents will continue to occur amongst drunk drivers over the age of 25, where research proves they mostly do.

All that this law will accomplish is to let us know that what we want means nothing and that our politicians will sell us out, literally.

On the bright side, this could end up being a great tourism attraction for Fiji, where the legal drinking age is still 18. Maybe we'll see more of our young people heading to Fiji for a holiday so they can have a beer. And maybe we'll see less of our young people registering to vote because the message today is that it doesn't matter what the voters want so why bother trying to make your voice heard.

Job Hunting via VH1

I saw this video the other day on VH1 that featured real unemployed Americans holding up placards that listed their credentials, skills, and commitments. One of them was an MIT graduate with a pretty lofty degree who couldn't find work, another was a man with five children he needed to take care of, and it just got more heartbreaking from there.

It struck a chord with me as I've been hitting the employment websites pretty hard myself of late, in anticipation of my current employer's end of term (which also means end of job for me and everyone else on staff). There's the hope that the Cruz/Espaldon team will win the election this year and that we'll be picked up for four more years, but even that means employment with an eventual expiration date.

Truth be told, I haven't had a "permanent" job since I graduated from college. Each job, and they've been great jobs, has been a temporary position, which is very stressful for a single mother, especially when you're on your own with no support system.

My brother, bless him, has been after me to relocate to the US mainland with assurances that everything will be fine. He thinks I'm such a talented radio announcer that stations will just fire their staff to make room for me. Its nice to have someone believe in you to that degree... misguided though it may be.

After watching that music video, I feel even less optimistic about finding employment anywhere else but in my own backyard. The video starts by stating that there are currently 14 million Americans unemployed... that's a heap of people, folks!

If you have a job, you really should treat it like its something special and protect it at all costs! I've always been a bit spontaneous but our current employment circumstance has shown me that this is not the time to be impulsive. These days, what's called for is perseverance and a lot of faith. It does pay off eventually and fingers crossed, I finally have a shot at an excellent payoff myself very soon.

I recently got a message from a media colleague alerting me to a job she'd seen advertised that she thought I would be perfect for. I read the advertisement and she's right! This is a dream job that would allow me to put all my talents and skills to their best use, plus sounds like it could be permanent. The last sentence in the ad said you could apply via email - I don't think I've ever applied for a job so fast in my life! Hahaha!

I did take the time to review my CV and rework my cover letter so I'm putting my best foot forward. Now I just have to wait for the call. What I'm wondering is if its inappropriate to say in an interview that there is no one in the world who wants this job more because there's no one who needs it more? Or is that too pushy?

Whaddya think? I really would like to get this job! I'd love any advice you'd like to share!!! And my advice to you if you're in the same predicament, job hunting and all that: stick to it, keep your chin up and your hopes higher! And pray!!! Prayer always helps! Like right now... I'm praying you have some great advice to give me to make sure I give a winning interview!

3-25-2010_Hank_Johnson_Guam_Tip_Over.wmv

Stop Screwing with the Skyline

My background in media began in radio, something I still do on Saturday mornings when I co-host a show called "Tourism & You," which airs on Newstalk K-57 at 10 am (except for the 3rd Saturday of the month, which is when The Food Guy does his thing). My co-host Norm and I like to joke about the number of soapboxes we each have from which we expound our theories on a variety of topics, most recently in my case, the changes to the Tumon skyline.

My recent rant was prompted by the clearing of a large section of land in Tumon, which if you're unfamiliar with Guam, is where the majority of our hotels and resorts are located. The land in question is between the PIC and the Marriott, though no one seems to know what is planned for the newly cleared area. My fear is that its for the four towers that were proposed a couple of years ago.

I have never been a fan of progress for the sake of progress and often feel we run willy-nilly after the chance to make a dollar, ignoring the hundreds that could have been made with a slower approach. It is a curse this island falls privy to far too often. Case in point, the four Verace towers that are currently being constructed at Oka Point.

The four towers are part of what is touted to be a gated community for the elite, complete with all the amenities one could possibly want, including a wall and security guard designed to keep the riff-raff out. When I first heard about these towers, I thought they sounded like a ridiculous idea. Like much of the world, our island is experiencing economic hard times, so I couldn't imagine who was going to be purchasing these condos (all of which run close to a million dollars a piece).

Sadly, the people of Guahan are rarely asked for their input when it comes to progress and even if we are, as in the recent invitation from the US military to comment on their proposed plans for the military buildup, it has little, if any, impact. So, needless to say, the four towers are well underway and as they've climbed higher and higher, I have been shocked by the change they have wrought upon the skyline of Tumon and Tamuning.

Where you could once see ocean, you now see only concrete. This would be bad enough if it was only affecting Tamuning... but I live in Asan, frequently referred to as the first village of the south (though most of us tend to think of that as being Agat), and you can see these four monoliths just fine from there! What was once a beautiful view now looks very sad.

The whole project has reminded me of that poor misguided Senator from Alabama who believes that if we bring too many Marines from Okinawa to Guam, our island will tip over. If he could see what Tumon looks like now, he might be able to make a much more convincing argument for Guahan's eventual capsize.

A real estate agent friend of mine told me that most of the Verace units have been pre-sold. I find that hard to believe, as it is apparent that many of the units in the Alupang Beach Tower still sit open a decade later. And now not just one, but two large scale areas in Tumon have been cleared and neither is for the additional four towers still on the proposal block... maybe buying life jackets isn't such a bad idea.

On the bright side, Asan will remain the same whether Guam tips over or not. We'll still be the first village of the south... but the southern most village will be Yigo instead of Malesso.

It's just another day

Well, Father's Day is coming up this weekend and its not exactly an anticipated event in my household. It is said that little girls grow up to be with men who are just like their own fathers... and that is definitely true in my case. Sadly, my son's father is just as neglectful and hurtful as my own. I kick myself for not making a better choice for my boy, though ironically, I do thank him for the "sperm donation" that resulted in my beautiful son.

A friend of mine put it beautifully, "Anyone can be a father but it takes a real man to be a Dad."

My son's father pays child support but only because he has to. It's court ordered and because they don't trust him either (they've had to toss him in jail a few times for non-payment), it is taken directly out of his check and sent to the three women who gave birth to his three children.

When I first filed for child support, I was awarded $320 per month, but after he had another child, it was lowered to $22o. I don't think I have ever received anything close to either amount. This month, my child support payment was a whopping $43. Whoo hoo!

I realize that there are women out there who get even less and many who don't get a dime. In that respect, I suppose I'm lucky, although it doesn't feel that way when I'm wheeling and dealing with the power company so they won't turn our electricity off.

My ex is a park ranger these days, making just over $8 an hour. When we were together he earned between $12 - 40 an hour fixing computers, at which he is quite gifted but that requires work. Not his favorite thing. His wife is a real mover and shaker, earning pretty close to $100K.

They live in a huge 6 bedroom house on a near acre of forested land. They have two big screen TVs and when I say big, I mean 70+ inches. They go out to eat whenever they like, drive nice cars, and take lots of trips. It makes me sick.

I would love to be angry at the wife for encouraging this loafer to be such a waste of space, but it isn't her fault. I might not be as angry if the man paid even the slightest attention to any of his children, but he doesn't. Despite his living the high life, he hasn't sent any of his children a card or a gift or even made a simple phone call for their birthdays or Christmas in over three years.

One day, all three kids will hate him and he will have earned every bit of that emotion. His daughter already has nothing nice to say about him, though his two sons (one of which is mine) still hold out hope that one day their father will care as much about them as they do about him.

I have not reminded my son that this weekend is Father's Day and I am hoping he doesn't remember. I would be heartbroken to have to witness a repeat of last year, when my son asked if we could call his dad to wish him a happy Father's Day and I had to remind him that we don't have his phone number.

Oh, the man has a phone... but he won't give anyone the number, not even his children. The only way to contact him is to send an email to his wife and hope that she will get back to you. She usually does, but she doesn't like to because she doesn't like any of the mothers of her hubby's children. You see, she thinks we're all horrible people for thinking so poorly of her wonderful man.

I will never cease to wonder at successful women who have relationships with men who are such glaringly obvious losers.

So, if you will be celebrating Father's Day this weekend because you have a deserving Dad, think of my son and his brother and sister. Then give your Dad an extra tight hug for being such a great man and a wonderful father. You are very lucky.

Then give your Dad another hug, this one from me and tell him I said "thank you." It is somewhat comforting to know that there are some very good Dads in this world... even if neither my son nor I were lucky enough to get one.

What my son doesn't know is... hilarious!!!

An incident occurred at our house yesterday which reminded me again of how much I need to stay on top of my son's in-house education! I was home sick with a really bad tummy ache, which had started the day before. I was in a lot of pain, but around 3:30 in the afternoon, the Menstrual Faerie showed up, waved her magic wand, and *presto* - I suddenly understood what all the pain had been about.

On the heels of this, I received a text message from a girlfriend telling me she hoped I felt better soon. In a round about way, I explained what had happened, ending with "Darn that Eve and her love of fresh fruit." My son saw the text and asked me to explain what I meant.

(Darn those kids and their inquisitive young minds...)

So I had to explain the story of Adam and Eve, which included several instances of my saying, "Son, we really need to get you enrolled in Sunday school." At the end of my Biblical explanation of why women have their periods, my darling son asks me, "Mom, if women get periods, then what do men get?"

Before I could come up with an answer (which was taking a long time because I was reminiscing on my once asking his grandmother the exact same question), he says, "Oh, I know. It must be sinus infections."

When I could breathe again after the outburst of laughter, I asked him what made him think that, since both men and women can get sinus infections. "Well, when I was taking the dogs outside earlier, my sinuses started hurting," he explains, rubbing his abdomen. I told him that wasn't where the sinuses were located, and though I still don't understand the connection between taking dogs outside and abdominal pain, he got it, but was still wanted to know what men "get" in relation to women getting their periods.

I told him exactly what his grandmother told me at his age: "Men get to have their balls hurt when you kick 'em."

He nodded his ten year old head sagely and said, "Yes, that makes sense."

God, I love that boy!!!

I love you, Mickey Mouse!

It seems of late, again, most of my blogs have been "doom and gloom," which I don't like as much as you probably dislike reading. I thought we all deserved something fun, light hearted, and totally ridiculous.

I have been a fan of Mickey Mouse since I was a little girl. Though I spent most of my life on Guam, we also lived in California for a few years, during which we went to Disneyland often. In truth, I had been to Disneyland four times before I was of age and left each time, a little crushed that I hadn't seen Mickey.

I looked for him every time and during a visit when I was 18, even begged the park officials to tell me where he'd be next. Turns out, at the time, it was a closely guarded secret. In fact, the park folks told us that Disneyland is actually filled with "behind the scenes" tunnels and secret doors, all designed so that Mickey could step out in public unexpectedly.

The reason for all the mystery is because the beloved mouse would get pounced on by excited children and more than a few happy adults as soon as he made an appearance. The only way Mickey Mouse could appear at different places throughout the park was by using the secret passageways.

Of course, these days, there's an app for your cell phone that will tell you exactly where he is. I have no idea how Disney manages the security to deal with this little bit of technology, but actually, no longer care. I have since met Mickey Mouse in person.

In 2004, my sister and I took my son to Disney World for his first visit to the Magical Kingdom. He was only four years old and very excited, though I suspect his mother and aunty may have been on par with him in the excitement arena. We arrived, bought our tickets, and began making our way towards the Haunted House.

It's kind of a family tradition that this is the first ride we go on... that or else Pirates of the Caribbean. (By the way, regardless of tradition, I don't recommend taking a four year old to the Haunted House for his first introduction to Disney rides. A very bad idea, but I digress.)

If you've ever been to Disney World, you know that you must walk down Main Street and pass Cinderella's Castle as you proceed in to the park. As we were walking in the direction of the castle, I saw a tall, blue figure walking out from a side garden. It was Stitch (of Lilo and Stitch fame, a movie my son liked). I excitedly began raving to my son, "Ezequiel, look, look! It's Stitch! It's Stitch!"

Of course, he was thrilled to see the "real" Stitch. Within seconds, Stitch was followed by another character, a yellow figure I recognized immediately from my own childhood. It was Pluto, who had a leash attached to his collar, though you couldn't see who was holding the end of it. Pluto came out very slowly, so that the one holding the leash was revealed even slower. (I think you can guess where this is going, can't you?!)

It was Mickey Mouse!!!

Within seconds, I realized that what was about to happen. Huge lines were going to form so that people could shake hands and have their picture taken with their favorite characters - and we were standing right where the lines would be forming! I grabbed my son's hand, and suspect he may even have become partially airborne, as I bolted towards the line for Mickey. We ended up being second in line.

The entire time we waited for our turn, I was talking excitedly to my boy, hyping him up to meet the most famous mouse in the world. Finally, it was our turn. We walked up to Mickey Mouse and before anyone could do or say anything - I burst in to tears!!!

Literally sobbing my silly head off and recognizing in some distant corner of my mind that this was really just a person in a costume, I managed to choke out, "Oh, Mickey!!! I have been looking for you for thirty five years!!!"

(Apparently in the face of a dream come true, "some" adults have absolutely no shame whatsoever!)

And what did Mickey do? He threw his arms open wide, took me in to them, and patted my back, chittering away while I bawled my head off, like the biggest dumbass to ever hit the kingdom!

Eventually, I calmed down enough to pose for a picture with my son and sister (who, I might add, was also crying by this point, though in her defense, it may have been from the sheer embarrassment of having me as an older sister).

We thanked the mouse profusely and as we began walking away, Mickey grabbed my hand. He pulled me back in to his arms and gave me a final hug, a final pat on the back, and a final (very understanding, I thought) chitter.

And that, my friends, is how I finally met my beloved Mickey Mouse!

Some things just don't get forgiven...

I watched the opening credits of a movie tonight with trepidation, not really sure why. Turns out it was "The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood." As soon as I read those words, my unease grew deeper. I have a friend who likes to refer to her, myself, and our mutual girlfriends as the "Ya Ya Sisterhood" and that's never sat well with me, though I have never been sure why.

After watching for a few minutes, I suddenly remembered the first time I'd seen this movie. My son was only two years old and if you've seen the movie, you know there's a scene where one of the main characters, who it turns out was suffering a mental breakdown, severely beats her children with a belt, though they'd done nothing wrong. (This on the heels of deserting them time and time again with no explanation.)

I will never forget that scene because it was so unexpected. when I first saw it, I was completely engrossed. Terribly, I hadn't realized that my baby had come in to the room and also watched the mommy beating her babies in the pouring rain, for no reason, while they screamed at her to please stop.

Ezequiel became hysterical and I felt so horrible that I'd been so engrossed in a movie that I hadn't realized he was there to witness the terrible scene. He kept asking why the mommy had been so mean and telling him it was only make believe did very little to relieve his terror.

I have reflected on that moment many times over the years, though until tonight, I hadn't remembered the name of the movie. I suppose if I had remembered, I'd of felt I understood why my friend referring to us as the Ya Ya Sisterhood had bothered me... but as I watched the entire movie, I realized that wasn't the reason.

That movie, a good part of it, is the story of my childhood. Growing up with a crazy, self absorbed mother who was angry at the world, and most especially her children, for keeping her from whatever dream life she felt had been intended for her.

I'd never noticed until tonight that the crazy mother's three children were two girls and the youngest, a son, the exact same make up as my family. I'd never noted before that the oldest daughter took the brunt of the abuse, trying unsuccessfully to protect her younger sister and brother - who, in the end, took as much of it as anyone.

The scene that did my head in tonight wasn't the scene of the mother beating her babies, terrible as it was. It was the daughter saying as an adult, after having her mother's absence finally explained to her (the mother was committed), "I am adding it all up in my head... all the money I spent on therapists trying to figure out what it was that I did wrong." (I haven't cried that hard in a very long time. It was quite unexpected.)

Sometimes Hollywood really should leave well enough alone. Not all of us get the celebrated epiphany that results in the wronged receiving heart wrenching apologies, the "I'm so sorry" speech and hugs all 'round, everything is forgiven, and we'll all just live happily ever after now. Although, in my case, like in the movie, I did get the "you are now disinherited" notification with regards to the crazy mother's Last Will... useless though in my case, since I'd been asked to disinherit myself years before and had gladly done so.

Life is not a movie and much as we'd like, and perhaps even believe we deserve it, we don't always get a happy ending... that's just not the way it works. For some of us, the nightmare just continues year after year and no matter what mature kind of action we take, in the end, we simply end up right back where we started.

It is ironic that what initiates the stroll down "nightmare lane" in the movie is that the daughter has given an interview to the press about her horrible childhood. Of course, Hollywood got that one wrong, too, at least in the case of how this movie relates to my personal story.

Nope, sorry, Hollywood, sometimes our parents are simply no damn good and sometimes they really do deserve our contempt, our hatred even - because that's just how life is and it isn't always pretty.

My revenge will be to try my very hardest to never put myself, and most especially my petty desires, before the welfare of my child. Children are blessings and gifts to be cherished, loved, and nurtured. That is my commitment to my son.

You're HOW old? Did you know any dinosaurs?

I was filling out an employment survey the other day and one of the questions asked was whether or not I am over the age of 40. This question stumped me. I answered it, but have been left wondering what my answer could mean to my future.

If I was hiring for a management position and the candidate was over 40, would I look at that in a bad light? Shouldn't someone in their 40s have been with an employer already and for quite sometime? Or, would I look at it as an opportunity to acquire a seasoned professional?

(By the way, the reason I'm job hunting is because my last few jobs have all been temporary... so if you know of anyone interested in acquiring a "seasoned professional" on a permanent basis, let me know! But I digress...)

The question was disturbing... I don't tend to think of myself as being old until I'm asked a question like that. Recently, I received an invitation to join the "youth team" promoting a political candidate. Yet, when I looked at the materials, it clearly said that the age of team members was between 18 and 30. Yeah, I've been out of that category for quite some time.

Wow. So I guess I'm old now. I kinda figured there was a good chance that I was. Those gray hairs on top of my head are getting pretty ornery. (Seriously, they just show up whenever they want, without notice of any kind, and refuse to leave when asked, no matter how nicely.)

I still get along very well with young people... I find that helps keep the mind young, but I don't know what to do about occasionally having to tell someone when my birthday is. They say they don't believe me when I tell them how old I am... but I'm not so old yet that I believe them when they say that.

Well, at least not entirely!

Dirty Laundry

Yesterday, one of my life's darker secrets was splashed across the front page of both newspapers, after having been a top story on one of the news programs the evening before. My family's dirty laundry ended up being fodder for bored people with computers, who without knowing any of the facts, decided it was fair game to call my sister and I a long list of horrific names. I was called a slut, accused of engaging in sexual favors with the police department and also called evil, disrespectful, and money hungry - all by people who do not know me.

I have been told I need to get tougher skin, but truth be told, I am a wuss who takes it all to heart. Although, I don't think being upset over being publicly and unfairly attacked is out of line. My sister is much tougher than me, I've always wished I had her strength. The only silver lining of this entire event has been the people who told me they know me well and don't believe anything they've read.

To anyone who has read the stories and wondered, there is more to it than has been reported. It is a long, sad, and sordid tale that none of my siblings or I like to talk about. The truth will come out when this all goes to trial. It is sad that all along I have intended to have as little to do with this situation as possible... that was before I was publicly slandered and humiliated. I pray for God's blessing and that he will grant me the serenity that seems so far from my reach today. I pray that I will be calm and not wanting to repay the person responsible for this situation in the same manner - because she has far more to lose.

If you have read the papers, I ask that you keep an open mind. If you are familiar with my family's history, I ask that you keep an open heart for the person responsible. She is an addict who is in need of prayer and medical care. She is not going to win this case because her history of violence, drunken behavior, resisting arrest, and assaulting police officers has been well documented over the years. I feel sorry for her.

I would like to thank my colleagues in the media for not chasing this story too far. I am going to think positively that you have each decided that after 26 years, you know me well enough to know that I am not the type of person to engage in the actions described without due cause. I know that for some media organizations, they have not pursued the story because they are aware that my side is the truth, because they've experienced it firsthand while I was in their employ.

The person in question is in great denial and I hope that this final fall from grace will be enough for her to finally seek the help she so desperately needs. This situation affects my son and sadly, he, too, has also witnessed events firsthand. When he expresses his anger at the situation, I remind him that the person is ill and that we must pray for her so that one day, perhaps, we can all be together again. None of that changes the fact that my nearly eleven year old son is far wiser about alcoholism than he should ever of had to be.

May God bless us all.

Presenting.... Johnny Depp... wait. What???

I often say to people that "Presentation is everything," meaning that first impressions are important and food should have an appealing color combination when served. Obviously there are more applications than just those two, for example, a friend of mine recently decided to run for Senator and when it came time for her to have professional photos taken, I felt I had to say something about her hair.

Don't misunderstand me, my friend has glorious hair, its one of her best features, but her locks are also some of the wildest you'll ever see! She sports a headful of blond ringlets that burst forth from, framing her face in a cascade of curls. My friend has the kind of curls that other women pay hundreds of dollars for... but for the purpose of a professional "elect me as your Senator" type pictures, I thought she should try and wrassle it in to a bun or a style that was a bit more demure.

Do you see what I mean about presentation? Its the reason most of us keep our living rooms looking tidy while our bedrooms look like a typhoon just blasted through or why we take small bites of food on a first date instead of just shoving food down our throats as we normally would. But yesterday, I was thinking about some other popular adages, like "looks aren't everything," "don't judge a book by its cover," and "beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

This is all very confusing! Which is it? Is presentation important or only skin deep? And if the book has a crappy cover, is there a guarantee that the story inside will be worth the read? But most importantly, if looks don't matter, why can't I get a date? Or a mate? Is it fate? Or is he merely late? And if he is just late... will he look like the Mad Hatter when he finally arrives or (fingers crossed) Johnny Depp?

Wait. What was I going on about again? I went all Dr. Seuss on myself and forgot what I was talking about. Something about Johnny Depp...

I seem to have misplaced my Fairy Godmother

A good friend told me yesterday that he loves it when I'm bitchy, this on the heels of my complaining that I've been too harsh of late. Where is that fine line between the two? And once found, how do I keep from strangling myself with it? There's the question.

I've been telling myself that I am the innocent victim in a struggle against the double whammy of PMS and perimenopause. Nice theory, except I don't really think that's it. Unfortunately, I think I've just been really angry and disappointed with myself and shifting my attention from that fact by being a monster to anyone and everyone who crosses my path. (Well, THERE's a great way to make friends, eh?)

Speaking of making friends... the situation I referred to in my last entry sorted itself out in a positive way and all the cranky people (me) are friends again with everyone else. It has been such a relief to be free of animosity and hostility, which really can poison you if left to its own devices. The other happy side effect has been remembering what it feels like to be, if not happy, then at least not angry all the time. It feels a heckuva lot better than the alternative.

I have been trying to figure out how to hang on to that feeling while dealing with my being my own worst enemy. Like a lot of people, I have been dealt with some harsh blows in my life but unlike a lot of people, I have let them continue to beat me up over the days, weeks, and years. It is frequently said that talking about things is a big help, I have never found that to be true. Nor have I found that time heals all wounds.

Personally, I think that there are some things that you just don't get over. Some things you simply have to learn to coexist with and try to live a good life in spite of them. Certainly easier said/written than done. In fact, because it isn't easy, it often seems doubly unfair. Why should you be dealt a horrific hand and then have an even harder time trying to play it off? Of course, another popular saying is "Life isn't fair" and then some crap about not being promised a rose garden.

So how do you "get over it?" I thought I was doing okay, telling myself I'm a survivor and not a victim, which sounds great but would be even better if it was true. I think I gave up and gave in, which is hard to admit. Truth be told, I've been wasting far too many years of my life waiting for my Fairy Godmother to show up, wave her magic wand, and make everything all better. Trouble is while waiting, the situation has only disintegrated further.

So what do you do? You start over. That's one of the wonderfully reliable aspects of life, you can always start over. Oh sure, sometimes you'll be angry that you have to keep trying, but I have yet to meet someone who doesn't respect a person who keeps on keeping on. The person who gives up.... yeah, not so much.

One of the biblical scriptures I've tried to motivate myself with over the years is "God helps those who help themselves." I just neglected to see that this statement could have other interpretations. For the last five years I have been helping myself to whatever food was in the house, rather than making the effort to be healthy and fit. Well, God helped me alright. He designed a body for me that responds to that type of behavior by getting big.... really big... like my butt is "gi-normous" big!!!

Now I see my partly brown skinned boy with pasty white skin, getting cellulite on his belly and realizing he is following my example. I look in my medicine cabinet and see row after row of medications for blood pressure, cholesterol, and other ailments, all curable by improving my health with a bit of exercise.

Eventually, I get sick of myself and fortunately, am at that point now. So I'm going to get up off the couch, throw on some "tennies" and see what I can do about getting a little exercise and being healthier. But, if any of you see my Fairy Godmother - tell that bitch I'm looking for her!!!

God is Testing Me (Again)

Every now and then, I am privy to an occurrence that fortifies my belief in God and the truth in the words, "God is not sleeping!"

I have been in a rotten mood for several weeks, mostly because of a frustrating situation that has been beyond my power to control. (And fortunately, no one has had the stupidity to have said "Yes, but you can control how you react to it," because seriously, someone would have been smacked!)

It has even affected my desire to write for my blog. I didn't want my postings to be full of doom and gloom, but it has been next to impossible to come up with anything lighthearted.

It has been such a challenge to constantly take the high road in this situation, when what I've really wanted to do was veer off the road and run someone over. It also hasn't helped that I am not alone in this mess, which typically you'd think would mean that my misery has had company and that might be a good thing. Not in this case.

When you're frantically trying to keep your happy thoughts together as they go skittering and scattering across the room, the company of a similar mindset can often be counterproductive to the situation. I'm trying to tell myself "It's okay, let it go, let it go" while my partners are screaming, "Off with her head!!!" Next thing, I'm wielding an axe, roaming the premises with a crazed look in my eye! Not good, folks!

So while I have been mentally beating myself up for allowing this situation to get the better of me, God has been watching all along.

Over the weekend, I was told that the person who has been responsible for creating all this drama was going to bring it to a loud and potentially nasty end this morning. Not exactly an event to look forward to, but as I said, this has been out of my control and I've just been rolling with the punches. So, I show up this morning, ready to get punched and come to find out that God has indeed arranged for a beating... of the one who actually deserves it!

Can you imagine what it feels like, getting called to the carpet for what you think is about to be a tongue lashing, only to get an apology and a "good work" pat on the back instead? And as if that wasn't enough, the cake gets iced with some delicious "the guilty will be hang" frosting!!!

So, I have gone from desperately trying to remain calm and cheerful to desperately trying not to gloat and march around with my chest puffed out in vindication... not a very Christian display, but God does enjoy His jokes as He tests my resolve.

What a great way to start the week. I feel hopeful and in the best of spirits. If I get money today, then this day will have been perfect! Either way, it goes to show that trying to do the mature thing does pay off and that God is wide awake!

Guamville

My co-workers and I shared a laugh over the Governor of Guam receiving his first ever "Be my neighbor?" request from Farmville. It was inevitable that it would come and led to speculation about other Facebook pursuits the Governor could be participating in. Imagine if he was the head assassin in Mafia Wars or had the biggest eatery in Cafe World - it'd be hilarious!

Talk of Farmville inspired one co-worker to suggest we create a Guamville version of the game. It would take place on a beautiful island in the Pacific with a unique culture and way of doing things. (Sound familiar?) The rules would be a little different, but completely recognizable to anyone from Guam.

For example, all your plants, trees, and other produce would be from Guam, so your plots would be filled with breadfruit, bananas, palm trees, mangoes, taro, papaya, avocados, guava, and a variety of melons. Your animals would be goats, chickens, carabao, deer, pigs, horses, cows, and, of course, brown tree snakes.

C'mon, you gotta have brown tree snakes! By the way, this a perfect time to introduce one of those OOG (which in this case stands for Only On Guamville) rules. You must feed and care for your animals in a timely fashion, otherwise, the brown tree snakes multiply until your "lanchero" is infested and looks like something from of a statesider's nightmare, with brown tree snakes hanging from everything! Extra value points are given for every rhino beetle you find and kill!

Another OOG rule has to do with your chickens. You can click "stay" as many times as you like, but c'mon umbre, you know they're still gonna go wherever they want! They particularly seen to like the McDonald's in Hagatna for some reason, but you can only visit there if you selected Hagatna as your home village in the Guamville preferences. Otherwise you have to wait for a special occasion or for the fiesta in December.

Not all of the action in Guamville requires you to stay in your own village. There are certain times you can visit other villages, like during a fiesta, or at certain holidays and specific events. For example, all players can visit the Chamorro Village on Wednesdays provided you collect a minimum of five chenchule points from the vendors or the Dededo Flea Market on Saturday mornings.

Guamville would be so much fun to play! You could watch your family's house grow as you added on an outdoor kitchen, storm shutters (remember that you get the most points for installing the metal ones that slide in by piece, although the accordion shutters are also worth a lot of points), or by adding a canopy or tarp in your front yard to act as an extra covered parking for your truck.

Other ways to earn points would be by giving away chenchule coupons at christenings or when your neighbor's children get married, attending Mass on Sundays and the occasional Wednesday, and by how many times you manginge' your elders. Like earning extra value points for each deceased rhino beetle, players can score big by winning pugua points for playing Guamville for seven consecutive days!

You can also lose points, thereby becoming mamåhlao, this occurs when you forget to bring something to the party, you don't have any change for the offering basket at church, or an elder deskas your ear in front of all your friends. This happens when you forget to tie your dog up in the yard on the three foot chain.

I should finish writing down all my notes for Guamville and then contact Zynga. This could be bigger than the "I'm from Guam so that automatically makes me cooler than you" page!

Dream a little dream

A friend of mine passed away yesterday... he was only 58 years old, which I consider way too young to be moving on. John led a very full life in those few years, but still, he was far too young to leave us. I know that he had a lot more on his list that he hoped to accomplish in his lifetime, but when God calls you, it's time to go.

Another friend of mine also passed away less than a year ago. He was only 44 and, like John, seemed very healthy and vibrant. Roel's death was just as untimely, but hit close to home because he is younger than I am. Both men died of sudden heart attacks.

While speaking about John with media yesterday, I offered up copies of a story I'd written about John and his Pacific War Museum, which he created to honor his fellow Marines and the sacrifices they made for Guam during World War II. The story was published in Island Time magazine last year.

It didn't occur to me until this morning that I'd also written a story about Roel and his work as one of Guam's leading photographers, also for Island Time magazine. What freaked me out, was realizing this morning that both stories appeared in the same issue. I have a third friend who was also featured in that issue and have been wondering if I should casually call him up to make sure he's taking his vitamins and eating his Wheaties.

Instead, I have decided to take this for what it is, a coincidence but one I can learn from.

This morning, I went to the Guam Healthy Initiative office to sign up for the "Get up and move" program, which allows government employees to take three one-hour breaks each week to participate in a healthy pursuit, be it exercise or attending a wellness program. Another benefit we receive is that our health insurance company allows free gym membership to three different fitness centers as well as free participation in a wellness program run by a local clinic.

I have never had a job that offered such amazing incentives for living a healthier life and figure if I don't take advantage of this opportunity, I may well deserve the heart attack I am trying to avoid.

I think of my two dear friends, John and Roel, both of whom lived life to the fullest. I think about my dear cousin Mehrryn, who passed away at 17 years old, from cystic fibrosis, which runs in our family. I think of my friend Johnny, who passed away at 42 years of age.

It would be disrespectful to the memory of these people who all died so young not to live my own life to its fullest.

Another way to show respect to those we've lost too soon is to hold on to our dreams. In fact, we should chase our dreams to our dying day. John had a dream to build a museum where he could preserve an important part of Guahan's history so that future generations could learn about it, and through the sweat of his brow, he made that dream come true. I can't say that about myself.

As I've gotten older, I know I've set the dreams of my youth aside, citing the daily grind of making a living, caring for my son, and trying to be a grown up as the excuses for my choice.

But the truth is, living life to its fullest should include living the life you dream about. Our dreams keep us youthful, hopeful, and focused. So, I'm taking my dreams out of the closet, dusting them off, and letting them loose so I can chase them, catch them, and ultimately live the life I've always wanted.

After all, when you "rest in peace," shouldn't it be because you wore yourself living each day to its extreme?

Get off my virtual back!

I had lunch today with some girlfriends that I went to high school with. It was really great, one of those experiences where it feels as if very little time has passed, despite the years and years worth of catching up that was done. It's the camaraderie, that instant connection that you feel with a good friend who knows you well and vice versa.

Talk turned to Facebook, as it often does these days, with all parties agreeing that catching up with old friends is one of the best parts of the social network. Sometimes, though, we agreed that catching up with old friends on Facebook can be a real pain in the tookus!

Turns out two of us share a mutual friend, who feels it her civic duty to correct our online behavior and any perceived social faux pas committed on Facebook.

This would be fine if it was an occasional occurrence, but it seems to happen every time one of us expresses a passionate opinion or treads anywhere near a subject that is traditionally considered off limits, like religion or politics. Again, it would still be fine if our friend expressed herself and left it at that, but what typically happens is a non-stop barrage of posts or personal messages until the original Status entry is deleted - in a last ditch effort to make the pestering stop.

In truth, what often feels like bullying has frequently led me to consider cancelling my Facebook account, though truly, the fault is mine. I am the one succumbing to the onslaught of criticism and choosing to delete my apparently questionable posts.

I suppose my friend feels she is looking out for my best interests, though I am hardly a child. It reminds me of one of my aunts, who upon receiving a cheery email message, has been known to send it back with grammatical errors noted in red. I imagine she feels she is also doing a good turn. I honestly wouldn't know. I quit writing to her the second time she did it to me.

I think the reason it bothers me so much, in addition to the obvious, is that Facebook offers a simple remedy that doesn't involve chastising anyone. It's called the Hide button. If you are offended or put off in any way by someone's posts, you can hide them from your Newsfeed and Status Updates. You still have the freedom to go to that person's page by choice, instead of having all their posts automatically assault your eyes each time you log on.

I imagine another choice is simply to "unfriend" us. Seriously. If you are annoyed, offended, or traumatized in any way by my posts, which are usually just a reflection of what's on my mind, then perhaps we no longer have in common all that we once did.

One of my personal traits, which I've always thought was a pretty good one, is that I think everyone is entitled to their opinion. I may not always agree with yours, you may not always agree with mine, sometimes we will have to agree to disagree. However, I can promise you that if you post something on Facebook that I don't like or agree with, I won't badger you until you delete it or go mad.

The camaraderie at lunch today was wonderful, as being with people who know you well always is. People who know that you are outspoken, opinionated, and often more than just a little blunt. At least, I assume they all knew that, after all, we sat at that table for four long, delightful hours and no one berated any one, not even once.

True friendship. Being accepted for exactly who you are... there's nothing else like it, but, of course, that's just my opinion.

How to Become a Grumpy Old Fart (or, Sometimes I just want to smack somebody)

Lately, it seems like the smallest of things annoy me. I feel like I spend day after day being grumpy and out of sorts, it's not fun nor does it make me a fun person to be around. I have tried playing the menopause card in hopes of sympathy or understanding for my crabby behavior, but the truth is that I am still too young for that to be it (though I'm rapidly approaching, but let's leave that subject alone, shall we... don't want me to get annoyed, do you?).

I finally realized that what has changed and caused me to become a grumpy old harridan is time.

Sounds crazy (kind of like me lately) but think about it. Most of the things that tweak our last nerve are things that we used to shrug off. I think that's the problem, our history of shrugging! Over the years, we've been turning the other cheek, going with the flow, and trying not to rock the boat.

We've turned, gone, and avoided rocking until we're sick of it and are even more sick of pretending we don't mind. We do mind. In fact, sometimes, we mind a lot!

How many of us order pizza by phone? I bet we all do or have. What is typically the first thing the server asks you when they finally answer the phone? It's not "Hi, can I take your order?" No, it's usually "Could you kindly hold?" Wouldn't you love to say, "No. No, I cannot hold. I called, you answered, let's get on with it!"

How about people who don't switch their cell phones to vibrate in a movie theater? Listen, if you're so stupid that you can't figure out that the commercial that shows before the movie starts, the one that says to turn your cell phone off, means YOU, too, then you're probably too dumb to enjoy the movie to its fullest and shouldn't have been allowed in the theater in the first place.

It seems like simple courtesy has become an endangered species and as people get older, they realize that they are tired of being the one to take the higher road.

A few months ago I was in a large clothing store, in a hurry because I was on my lunch break, and there was a group of children running up and down the aisles, screaming at the top of their lungs, and bumping in to shoppers as they chased each other. There wasn't a parent in sight. I ignored these kids for about fifteen minutes before the grumpy old harridan in me surfaced.

"Where are your parents," I growled out in my best drill Sergeant voice. (I have never served a day in the military, but I must have in another life because I have that voice down pat!)

All five children skidded to a halt like their feet had hit a giant sheet of fly paper. "Our parents are over there, Miss," they stammered, obviously scared to death.

"Well, get yourselves over there, too," I growled, "before I call a security guard to escort you. Is this how your parents raised you? To be disrespectful in a store? Do you act like this in church, too?"

Oh, I can be really terrible!

But you know what? The rest of my shopping excursion was spent without a pack of wild hellions bumping in to me. Some people's kids, I tell ya'! (Though I must confess that I am not entirely sure yet if I am referring to those parents or my own here... I'll have to get back to you on that one.)

I want to be a nice person, like I used to be. I just need people to start being more courteous and respectful... otherwise, yes, I will tell your kids off in a store, I will be up front that I do not want to hold (especially when we both know you're going to be late delivering my pizza either way), and if you keep your cell phone turned on during my movie, it rings, you answer it and begin to have a conversation.... it's gonna get ugly up in here!

Let's just all be a little more respectful to one another. Is that too much to ask? Otherwise, I'm going to have to start tinting my hair blue or lavender... just like all the other grumpy old ladies.

Be the difference...

Every time I watch "Extreme Home Makeover," I have to explain to my son that sometimes people cry when they're really happy. "Are you happy?" he asks, "because you don't look happy right now."

Well, son, that's because I need to stop watching this show, which is as bad as a series of Hallmark TV movies, leaving my face all swollen and puffy and our home totally devoid of tissues. I like that show, it inspires me in a much more positive way than say... "Intervention."

I like Intervention, too, for far from altruistic reasons! It's because, like most people who watch it, it makes me feel better about myself. No matter how tough things may seem in my on life, I can always tell myself "Well, damn, woman! At least, your life isn't as horrible as that person's!" I know, that's terrible, isn't it? (And you've never thought the same thing? Riiiiight!)

I prefer Extreme Home Makeover because the homeowners are often people going out of their way to help others in spite of their own diversity. It tends to makes me feel small, petty, and in need of a good kick in the nether regions. The episode I watched today was definitely one of those that kicked me in the parts!

It started off being about a family with three children, the youngest two were twins who were born with severe challenges. One couldn't walk without using a small walker and seemed to have some mental challenges, the other boy had hearing and eyesight problems - but both were extremely cheerful, as the challenged usually are (which makes me feel like an even bigger horse's ass since I suffer from none of those challenges and spend far too much time moping or being pissed off over trivial things).

What made this episode extra special, as if those two boys weren't enough, was that several of the builders of their new home had disabilities, yet were climbing in and out of heavy equipment, ladders, etc... being far more agile than I have been in ages... me, with all my fully functioning limbs.

The person who really got to me was one of the volunteers from the town. He had cerebral palsy and could only walk with crutches, but was the first to tell you that the words "I can't" are not in his vocabulary. This man had been told by doctors that he would never walk, get married, or have children. He shared this as he stood there on his crutches, next to his wife and children.

I've been down in the dumps of late and having a difficult time shaking it off. This man made me feel so... ridiculous. The challenges I face are all ones that I could fix myself if I simply tried harder. The challenges this man faces each day will still be there every day of his life. My biggest problem, like many of us, is that I am simply don't want to make the extra effort and after watching this man today, I felt ashamed of myself.

Mahatma Gandhi said "Be the difference you want to see in the world."

It took a TV show for me to finally get it. What can I say, I am not always the sharpest crayon in the box... but I get there.