tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15612145317831706972024-02-07T09:34:22.315-08:00The Adventures of MacMailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-29608184207943267402010-12-29T12:20:00.000-08:002010-12-29T13:25:30.105-08:00Instructions for Recovery From Emotional TramaLesson 1<br /><br />You will need:<br />-Wine (or other soothing beverage of your <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">choosing</span>)<br />-Crayons (<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">preferably</span> a new large box with the sharpener in the back)<br />-Coloring Books and or Blank Paper (start with pretty soothing color books it takes the pressure off)<br />-Chocolate (white chocolate is NOT chocolate, any others will do)<br />-Inspiring Movies (Mr. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Magoriums</span> Wonder Emporium, Penelope, Harold and Maude, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Pippi</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Long stocking</span>, to name a few)<br /><br />You may apply all these tools at once for greatest effect or one at a time as your schedule allows. Happy Healing!Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-42933428849610228282010-12-27T16:20:00.000-08:002010-12-27T16:22:43.474-08:00Chicks with Guns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaHdp1N6ZMgt1Lctf-3ZIZLqBRZFD7u0OqNSWuQvqPIpLeSou6eES0mprQzRLxr8eMFwVnNGgAWF7cfPXUZHRlljxtNF0P20Wixtzqf6A3fvLfeUNanFm6C7tVUm7r_e2CVNwGDQU_rQol/s1600/funny-pictures-history-kitchen-this.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 176px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555521715223419394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaHdp1N6ZMgt1Lctf-3ZIZLqBRZFD7u0OqNSWuQvqPIpLeSou6eES0mprQzRLxr8eMFwVnNGgAWF7cfPXUZHRlljxtNF0P20Wixtzqf6A3fvLfeUNanFm6C7tVUm7r_e2CVNwGDQU_rQol/s320/funny-pictures-history-kitchen-this.jpg" /></a>Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-42701448923121120172010-12-25T18:14:00.000-08:002010-12-25T18:45:20.386-08:00Happy HolidaysYeah I said it, those dirty words. Happy Holidays. Not Merry Christmas. Not Happy <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hanaqwanzule</span>. Happy Holidays. See how easy that was. No one need be offended. Even atheists celebrate the new year. We live in a free-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">ish</span> country. We celebrate lots of holidays, practice countless religions and maintain the right to abstain from those holidays and religions if we like. I don't care what holiday people wish well for me. Merry Yule is my favorite but I'll take any well wishes you got. My point is if someone says "Happy Holidays" don't get upset cause they didn't feel like trying to magically divine which greeting you preferred. Relax folks. Enjoy your holiday which ever on you like or just enjoy the day off courtesy your christian co-workers and their superb PR and government infiltration. Happy Holidays Everybody!Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-39182049672760663282010-07-18T12:45:00.000-07:002010-07-18T13:27:21.533-07:00Of Dead Mice and Men and Chocolate.We have had some rodent problems in the motorpool. It's a garage so it's got plenty of places for little mice and bugs and spiders to creep in at night. I don't mind them much. I actually find them funny. We slept over at the motorpool once and had eatten a cookie before bed, leaving the wrapper on a table just above my head. At one point during the night a mouse tried to get to the wrapper and the crumbs it contained by crawling over my blanket. It scared me at first and then I realized what was going on. I put the wrapper on the floor and quitely watched the mouse squeeze inside and eat up all the crumbs. I giggled to myself and fell back to sleep. Later it got into my quaker rice cake that I had left on the desk. I chuckled and thought that I need to be more careful. The same thing happened to a co-worker and he thought traps and poision. I proceeded to talk him out of it, explaining that as long as we had food in the motorpool we would have mice. No matter how many you kill. And the mice were saved to munch another day.<br /> That next monday I was taking out the trash and found a dead mouse in the bottom of the can. Apparently the little guy had jumped in from a near by table for some snacks and after eatting had realized he couldn't get back out again. I was a little sad but he had jumped in himself so I guess it was fair. The heat in the motorpool through the weekend must have done him in. There was a break room around the corner that I'm sad to say doesn't get cleaned well and three offices that have small stashes of food, but the little guy couldn't pass up that trash can. He found a way in, got his reward, and meet his end. All that for a few crumbs.<br /> As I thought about the mouse I thought "we do very similar things". Okay metaphoric similar things but still. We get an idea of what we want, we go through great pains to get it, and sometimes (not all the time, as I'm sure this was not the first daring feat that this mouse had made in the quest for food) we kill ourselves reaching for it. Some how the risks always seem worth it. In love, work, friendship, and family, who wouldn't go to great lenghts to get what they most desire. <br /> Oh, I seem to have left out the contents the little mouse was after. It was a swiss cake roll wrapper. So we all understand the blinding effect chocolate can have on us.Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-41676309823474702332010-07-13T16:27:00.000-07:002010-12-26T09:03:33.187-08:00Racoon Rescue RangerSome time ago. On a very hot and humid day. I was taking out trash......again. I rolled one of the big shop trash cans out to the dumpster. There was only one can today so I was alone. This is not uncommon.<br /><br /><br />I lifted the can in front of me and dumped it in. As I lifted the can away to shake it and ensure that all the trash had fallen out I saw a raccoon. I realize now from the look on his face that he was more frightened than me but at first sight I was so startled that I screamed and stumbled back ward. I dropped the can and nearly fell down. I walked back to the office to do the responsible thing, call animal control. When I told them what happened no one cared. I said it was hot and if the raccoon didn't get out he would die. "So" they all replied. I couldn't let that stand.<br /><br /><br /><br />I marched out to the dumpster determined to find a way to help this little guy out. I look around and find bits to lower in. The first was too short and he fell back in with a chatter. I look again and get a bigger frame piece to lower. He climbed to the top and paused on the edge to give me what I like to think of as a look of thanks. He trotted off and was never seen again. I hope he found some place safe to be. It's nice to do a good thing even if its just for a small animal.Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-2716677756430819622010-07-12T17:40:00.000-07:002010-07-12T18:03:31.064-07:00My Nights With The PagansI'm not a Pagan. Not really. But when I stumbled across a Pagan group that held meetings and classes once a week I was intrigued. I've been in Oklahoma for about 6 months now and I've made very few friends. I didn't really know how to meet people. I never really have. I am not what you would call socially adept. But these lovely, if a bit odd, people welcomed me. It was nice. I see them once a week and have a very pleasant social outlet. Even though I wouldn't call myself Pagan, not in the strictest sense. I call my spiritual preference "cafeteria style", one guy at the group calls it "eclectic". We talk about everything. Politics, religion, sex, whatever comes up....pardon the pun, totally unintended. I find myself thinking "maybe I am pagan, I do seem to fit."Never having really stamped a title on my God or religious preference I wonder sometimes if there is one for me. Or if a title is even necessary. I'm not really looking for input. Just thinking to myself. Is my desire to remain untitled keeping me from becoming a part of solid social circles?Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-84833276555800777602010-07-11T19:08:00.000-07:002010-07-11T19:14:58.550-07:00Ah, having a back log on topics.I know I've been away a while but I'll be back soon with amazing stories!<br /><br />Still to come......<br />How I got hit in the head by a goat.<br />Mac, hero to Raccoons every where!<br />Dead Mice and Greed<br />My nights with the Pagans<br />The A-Team, and my long time Mr.T infatuation<br /><br />I don't have time right now but I will very soon.Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-16519458605441099372010-06-02T05:49:00.000-07:002010-06-02T06:08:46.321-07:00Ergh!This writing thing is harder than I remember. But to be fair I haven't done it in so long. Now I have alot of stories in my head all clamoring for attention. It gets noisy and hard to focus. I am trying. I just keep throwing things down and hopefully something will emerge as the victorious one.<br /><br />1st Sgt was wondering why I wasn't smiling this morning. I always smile in the morning. I'm a morning person and I love PT. But I didn't sleep well. I'm bored, unfocused and unorganized. A far cry from my normal and happy state of being. <span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00">People</span> keep leaving but things keep breaking. As if the trucks don't realized we are short on workers. *Pisha* I hate to see not mission capable vehicles. It upsets me cause generally It was a small problem not long ago, no one caught it and now its a big problem. I think my biggest issue is that I care too much. I have a deep down need to do my job really well. I just don't understand when others aren't the same way.<br /><br />Well I'm going to work. I've had my coffee and I am bound and determined to make a dent in the crap pile! Wish me Luck!Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-80053661970781073852010-05-28T16:25:00.000-07:002010-05-28T17:55:03.130-07:00Long Time No Write<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlD8QqncHXIu0Zk8YfTM0QhTzo5Xy7_rHMkyhPrhBzBm1mmUV4givvIppmvm-do0eKAydouA305MBF0cxjKfWWje0BApnnnQTxY2QcimgER3kH34Z4nYXjlWtWiaBUa76c8XXN-ABv7EjJ/s1600/l_a97ba85918624348b88fe0c6fc616282.jpg"></a><br /><div>Boy, I'm terrible at this blogging thing. I never seem to do it regularly. Alot like my journals. I wonder why I can't commit to journals. They help me, I know they do. I always feel better after I write. So why not just do it. I suppose it's like starting to exercise or quiting smoking. Something that is a habit tends to stay a habit and something thats not tends to stay that way too. Like the law of inertia. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Anyway I'm back and I'm off work and alone for a few days so I might really write. Let the rambling begin.......</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I recall very few memories from my younger years. Lately, however, my memories as an adult are so vivid I can hardly tell the difference between them and reality. I'll be walking the line at the motor pool and suddenly, if only for a second, I see a familiar Korean street. I hear the mummer of a language I never really learned to understand. The smell and wet heat of the food vendor tents. I'm surrounded but vivid color and smiling people. Then in a flash the Korean street is gone. I'm left with beating sun, gray pavement and the stench of exhaust. Oklahoma is a stale wasteland in comparison to the crowded streets of Seoul. I would chock it up to simply missing that extraordinary experience, but it happens other times. Driving in the car I'll relive a 2 year gone fight I had with and old boyfriend. Isn't your memory suppose to get worse as you age. Mine seems to be getting uncomfortably better. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Maybe this is a symptom of my efforts to let go of past pain. The Korea thing might actually be me missing Korea, or Pittsburgh, or any where but here. I don't really like to bash places, cause I know to someone somewhere that place is home and perfect. But Oklahoma doesn't even bare a pasting resemblance to any home I've ever known. It's either too cold or too hot. The wind doesn't blow it hits you like you wronged it in a past life. Then there is the oh-so-fun Tornado season, and the gratuitous amount of bugs.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Home to me is temperate, mountainous, densely forested, and close to a major metropolitan area. Not sure I'll ever be truly happy anywhere else. And to cap all this off I have this to say....... </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-51216142453583209102009-11-26T02:32:00.000-08:002009-11-26T04:39:00.843-08:00I'll Be Home For ChristmasI never thought I'd be so happy to take a 20 hour flight. I leave here so soon I can almost hear WYEP, Feel the crisp cool Pittsburgh air,Taste my Moms chicken soup, Smell the familar scent of home. I'm so happy to be going back to my own country. I'll be buying a newer car, decorating for Christmas with my family, taking the dogs to the park, eatting real home cooked meals. I'm so tired of pizza and burgers, and for Christ sake why the hell do these people always overcook pasta. TV all the TV here is last season, A movie without subtitles would be great. It's the little things of home that you miss. I'm so excited to go home, even though I love Korea it's still not home.Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-70888868752803232232009-11-25T20:03:00.000-08:002009-11-25T20:10:13.546-08:00Summer Remembered<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl16gYs_4xVGIEKlg5dcn01DYUoNLKEbB9mErOU4UE_z1vKwimxQjufhn5urULcAGWeYmNeRCT-KLL5sojeQgbYA74A20hwVgyweCDgfOoxFYj7K2unwwXJOlNZiQiD-_PguUL56sc3Tlw/s1600/SDC10059.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408258576660822530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl16gYs_4xVGIEKlg5dcn01DYUoNLKEbB9mErOU4UE_z1vKwimxQjufhn5urULcAGWeYmNeRCT-KLL5sojeQgbYA74A20hwVgyweCDgfOoxFYj7K2unwwXJOlNZiQiD-_PguUL56sc3Tlw/s400/SDC10059.JPG" /></a><br /><div>This is the Beach in Korea. The first time I've been to the beach in years. I was so happy to see the water. The post is a little late but a nice reminder of summer as the weather gets cooler.</div>Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-55137754526678035442009-05-29T04:01:00.000-07:002009-11-26T04:40:00.969-08:00Mountian Top Yoga<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFk5wpyrcF8sBdQKnBgfwd0h0dzZ_12Wz3wv-G-Zj-jS5OK0od2PtSDp5cQ0yYdMWdZxghC1YstvWbx3GovpGCvwg5VWHxNYRLSl-7c_gexUo2nVawkY7eH6whq1pYk0CQXuNd_9QfSwtF/s1600-h/039.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341199911737910418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFk5wpyrcF8sBdQKnBgfwd0h0dzZ_12Wz3wv-G-Zj-jS5OK0od2PtSDp5cQ0yYdMWdZxghC1YstvWbx3GovpGCvwg5VWHxNYRLSl-7c_gexUo2nVawkY7eH6whq1pYk0CQXuNd_9QfSwtF/s400/039.JPG" /></a>Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-91931026139284833012009-05-25T21:34:00.000-07:002009-05-25T22:38:03.057-07:00So Hard On ourselvesWe are so eager as humans to find someone to love. We seek out friends, romantic partners, and crave family. We also tend to be very understanding of their mistakes. We bail our friends out of whatever trouble they find and say "what are friends for?". We'll tolerate short comings in our romantic partners, And the things we let our family members get away with are just extraordinary. However for some reason we can't manage to forgive ourselves for anything.<br /><br />I am doing everything in my power to start forgiving myself for things. Especially the things I did to myself. I think to me, logically it should be easy to forgive myself because the only person I have to consult is me. It should be easy to love myself too, but for some reason it's not. I'm very hard on myself. Lots of people are hard on themselves. Why? What is accomplished by self loathing?<br /><br />Nothing, nothing at all is accomplished by disliking yourself. Nothing save self destruction. So why do we do it? It's so illogical. At what point do we confuse taking responsibility for our mistakes with self punishment?<br /><br />"No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." -Eleanor Roosevelt. This is such a true statement and one of the more recognizable quotes of our culture. I'm making a pact with myself today not to give anyone, not even myself the permission to make me feel inferior. So there!Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-59268350060515999252009-05-24T19:25:00.000-07:002009-05-24T22:58:18.803-07:00Gossip Guys<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A friend of mine recently broke up with her boyfriend. It was coming for a while. All her friends new it, all his friends knew it. And yet</span> when it finally happened people scrambled for the "why". People who had no business caring why they broke up. If it was their business they would know. I know, cause it's my friend, i.e. My business.</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">However it isn't their business so no one told them. In the lack of credible information these guys (I work and hang with mostly men)constructed what they thought were plausible explanations.<br /><br />My friend we'll call her Ann has, according to all summed rumors, been sleeping with the boss & sleeping with me(lots of confusion there). Her ex we'll call him Jeff has, according to all rumors, been sleeping around as well as being an alcoholic. I speak freely with both Ann and Jeff. None of these things are true and neither of them have said anything that would give them the impression that they were true. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />So my questions begin.<br /><br />If women are such gossips then why is the most male intensive environment I've ever been in also the most gossip intensive environment? </span>Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-28393607270208071302009-05-23T21:23:00.000-07:002009-05-24T01:18:02.642-07:00Waking Up<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> I woke up a few weeks ago. By woke up I mean, looked around my life and realized I had no idea how I got here. I look around my life as if it's foreign to me. I remember everything. My education, my family and friends, the dynamics of my current job as well as all past employment, but all my memories seem like a movie made of a strangers life.</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><span style="font-size:85%;">I've ignored my preferences, my feelings, my fears and my dreams for at least 10 years.<br /> Born out of people pleasing and a hatred of conflict I became adept at being the person people wanted me to be. The problem comes when I can't hold the facade any longer and the relationships that I'd established come crumbing down in the face of bottled anger and resentment. I became bitter as I swallowed my needs in favor of other. Lost, confused and unfocused when my true self could not be repressed and the collision of me and the lie invaded the real word. Some were on the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">receiving</span> end of what happens when compressed lies explode. Consequently I have few long term friendships and many failed <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">romantic</span> relationships. Frequently confusing being in love with the desire to give someone what they wanted from me.<br /> David helped me surface, but anger and discomfort brought me totally awake. Strangely, I'm only angry with myself. I don't know when I chose to hide my true thoughts and feelings. I don't know when I constructed the mask I wore for so long I thought is was my true face. All I know is that I committed the worst kind of betrayal. I betrayed myself. It's an infectious betrayal. When you lie to yourself, you effectively lie to everyone you meet. I'm a liar in recovery, but I'm still a liar. I'm in the process of apologizing to all the people that I unknowingly buffaloed into <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">believing</span> that I was this different person. While <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">desperately</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">trying</span> not to slip back into self <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">destructive</span> patterns. It's hard but I'm getting there so stay with me. I swear it gets better. Or at least I hope it does.<br /> <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></div></div>Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1561214531783170697.post-44712731354575067912009-05-23T19:15:00.000-07:002009-05-23T19:18:06.928-07:00Introduction<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfAk4kSH3owPHHQ_Kocp2_D5X6XB3FE75_MN1jmGxdBIroK1OxheGj8B1oKh3t_GLIRtFDiOTmLwpPh25UUE88qR5JxGGF-H9QQ2P1nrTf6dSrhYTTJCBJ4Qp-ig0GNN9hn5V5vqjQSkF/s1600-h/j.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 344px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfAk4kSH3owPHHQ_Kocp2_D5X6XB3FE75_MN1jmGxdBIroK1OxheGj8B1oKh3t_GLIRtFDiOTmLwpPh25UUE88qR5JxGGF-H9QQ2P1nrTf6dSrhYTTJCBJ4Qp-ig0GNN9hn5V5vqjQSkF/s400/j.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339208824271089010" border="0" /></a>First of all this is me. Mac.Mailiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02247846026761421730noreply@blogger.com0