Oh my God I’m sore!
My legs, my feet, my back… hell even my ass hurts. Modern woman was not meant to walk thirteen hours in one day.
Comfortable shoes be dammed!
But on the plus side the weather was gorgeous, and I was able to take in many sights that otherwise would have been missed.
And I did stumble across the coolest little art shoppe, and picked up a couple of prints.
Then of course there was the Lantern Festival of which I’ve never seen the likes before.
All in all I shouldn’t complain, it was totally worth it.

Dear Poet,

Yes, I know you’re here.

I imagine you find your way here much for the same reason I find myself there.
To glean insight and understanding.
To find solace perhaps.
To feel connected.

So long as you’re aware that besides a couple entries, and one specific acrostic, that I’ve been concentrating on myself. Which is really where I need to be right now.

I tried the split attention thing, and ultimately ended up splitting myself.
Perhaps a needed wake-up call to propel me to where I needed to be.
Clarity, though not romantic, is a necessity.

Love,
~Absent

The art form of letter writing seems to have fallen by the wayside, as email, instant and text messaging have permeated our daily lives.

People forward chain letters and jokes as a means of communicating, or punch in emoticons in their messaging client or cell.

This has brought me to try something different lately when I approach my daily writings. It is not an assignment in grammar, punctuation or formality.

I just want to get back to basics, conveying a personal message, addressed to someone specific.

(The cathartic purge is sure to be wondrously uplifting, which I’m looking forward to.)

Dear Annoyance,

Why do you feel a need to talk to me throughout the day? Do I not listen to enough in the evenings?

I don’t care that your colleagues are slackers or that you applied to jobs in Victoria today.
Unless of course one of them pans out, then I’ll be all ears. Hell I’ll be your own personal cheering section.

“Yes, Good job.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“What an exciting opportunity”…

But of course I’ll be required to divulge

“No, I’m not coming”
“What do you want to do with the house?”
and finally “Good-bye”

Sincerely,
~Absent

I’ve been asked by a few people what I’m scribbling, and why. Usually my answer is the same, “I’m journaling” which discourages further more prying.

The truth is, that although the thoughts and opinions expressed here are of a personal nature, I am not concerned whether someone I know reads them or not.
It just might do some good.
There’s more than a spattering of personal information that offers a revealing glimpse.

I may apologize for the manner in which information is conveyed; however I will not apologize for the content found here.

Sometimes things just need to be said.

I need a new car.

The Neon is worn out, and needs too much work to keep her running safe.
She (why are cars always female?) was my very first car, and was nearly new when I got her.
Six months old and a dealer loaner, I thought she’d be a perfect first vehicle.

And before all you Neon haters start up, let me just profess that ‘Red’ has been very reliable.
Eight years and 300000 kilometres later she hasn’t given me any major problems.

I figured she has served me well so now it’s time to let her retire.

I really don’t like to be judgemental (even in my own head) but…

Dear fat blonde girl sitting at the table with two couples:

Wearing a tank top that looks like it was painted on, and a white MINI skirt (with no underwear) is NOT attractive, sexy, provocative or becoming whatsoever!

Do you not have self respect?
From my vantage point it looks as though your hungry ass ate what might have been left of it.
Take the hint would ya?
Both the women and the men you’re sitting with can’t even look at you!
I can’t anymore either.

~Absent

Dear blonde girl sitting in the green Ford Explorer in the parking lot at the doctor’s office:

Why on earth did you just spent fifteen minutes fixing your hair, curling your lashes and applying more war paint than Miss Piggy?

-One-
You are beautiful enough without making yourself look like a two bit whore, although your pencilled in eyebrows are quite disturbing.

-Two-
It’s a Fucking Doctor’s office!

-Three-
Even if (pardon me Grey’s Anatomy) Dr. O’Dreamy (our version of Patrick Dempsey) were working (which he’s not), I’m sure that pap-smears don’t require facial attention.
Did you douche?

Curiously,
~Absent

Dear overweight guy wearing the leather jacket invading my personal space:

Could you stand ANY closer to me?
You’re practically rubbing your middle-aged dick on my ass.

Not that I have a problem with middle age, or with dicks, but the counter at a coffee shop during the morning rush is not where I want to be bent over and dry humped.
Least of all by your greasy hobit-esque self, (in case you hadn’t noticed the way I was melding myself to the counter).

Get a clue asshole, back the fuck up! I ain’t your blow up doll.

Repulsed,
~Absent

Dear would be father, grandfathers, grandmothers, aunts and uncles of my inconceivable unborn children:

I know that you have been waiting a long time for the opportunity to play these roles; however it is my duty as the would be child’s mother, to inform you that I do not even conceive the notion of procreating.
I can rattle off any number of global responsibilities as valid reasons, but the real fact is much less selfless and much more important.

I don’t want children, period.
No I don’t think it’s selfish and no I won’t change my mind.

Altruistically yours,
~Absent

Dear Asha,

I have to admit that the last time we met I only heard half of what you said.
That streak of dark blue in your otherwise very black hair was distracting me.
It is new, isn’t it?

At first I was sure I was seeing things, but no, it kept peeking out from behind your ear.
Then I started thinking about how some people refer to elderly women as little blue haired ladies, so I found myself searching for this hue in the rest of your locks.

Nope!
It’s just the one quasi-hidden streak, you wild woman!

~Absent

Dear lazy bitch of a sister-in-law,

Get the fuck out of bed and DO something!
Your house is a fucking pigsty and makes me feel dirty just walking through the door.

Your four year old can’t talk, probably because you segregate her in her bedroom. She doesn’t have interaction with people including her parents!
She’s not even potty trained.

And your plan is to traipse off to California for four months and dump your kids on your parents?!

Unfuckingbelievable!

How useless ARE you?
I beg you PLEASE don’t have anymore kids!
You sure as hell don’t deserve them.

Incredulously,
~Absent

Dear Dave,

Well, you’re the last of the pink-slip waving lucky bastards left in the office.

Though I should be more sensitive to your position, I can’t help but feel pangs of jealousy.
Why the HELL didn’t they lay me off?!?

And that’s not survivor’s guilt either… that’s good old fashioned covetousness.

Guess we both have ruts to pull ourselves out of.
I’d be willing to accommodate a switch with you. You come to this hellhole everyday and do what I do, and I’ll sit at home and do what you normally did here.
You won’t be missed.

Toodles,
~Absent

Dear Absent,

I just wanted to drop a few lines your way to see how you’re doing.
I hope all is going well. I know you’ve been through a lot recently, so don’t worry that we haven’t had much time to catch up. You need to focus on you!

Oh and don’t worry about writing a letter to yourself from yourself or referring to yourself in the third person.
It doesn’t make you look the least bit crazy
–er than you are already. (Grin)

Just remember, only You can take care of You, and You are incredibly capable!

Affectionately,
~Absent

Dear three department managerial women met at the potential new site:

I appreciate the positions that you hold, and that you’re “just doing (your) job”, but your comments were not appreciated.

Woman #1:
YOU try driving an hour and a half one way to “work”….
BITE ME! I ain’t doing it!

Woman #2:
Don’t assume that because I’m a chick that works WITH a bunch of computer geeks, that my function is to serve administratively just because yours is.

Woman #3:
Working by myself in an office is no different than working from home, dumbass!

Yours technically, physically, independently,
~Absent

Dear Outlook calendar,

Thank you for remembering my appointment tomorrow, and reminding me about it this evening, fore I surely would have forgotten all about it.

You’ve made having to exercise memory a thing of the past. Remembering meetings, appointments, birthdays are now all your responsibility. The weight of the business world (or at least the schedules) rests squarely on your shoulders. You handle it with such professionalism and don’t complain… much.

How did I ever manage before you?
Despite your inability to synchronize properly with the ubiquitous Blackberry (can’t you be friends?), I still think you’re great.

Dependently,
~Absent

Dear new girl working in the Suds,

What is UP with the music? I’m about to pull out my mp3 player and crank it!
Where’s Jen, Hailey, Sue, Ashley, Trevor?
None of them play this tear in my beer shit. Nobody does!

I feel like going to get Jessie and have him do open mic tonight instead of tomorrow.

Seriously, there’s nothing but young people sitting here, and I’ve heard them complaining.
Terry won’t be impressed if you lose customers.

Thirstily,
~Absent

I’ve finally found a couple hours to myself this evening, and it’s delicious in the extreme.
It’s been too long since I had a couple hours just to myself to do whatever, whenever.
So delicious in fact I don’t know what to do first (today’s entry excepted since it’s a requirement).

What indulgence will get top priority?
It doesn’t really matter, I’m just happy to have time to myself.
Time to reflect, time to putz around, time that could be spent on something else but instead enjoyed by being completely selfish.

Everybody needs to take this kind of time occasionally.

Dear Tommy,

I know that you told me your oldest was a big lad, and it’s not that I didn’t believe you, but did you really have to parade his muscular, tanned, 20-something ass in front of me?
(Did my eyes bug outta my head?)
I know you’re just being the proud papa, but DAMN! You make beautiful babies.

Anytime he makes you dinner after work and you don’t feel like eating straight away, I’d be more than happy to take your spot. (GRIN)
You said you won’t eat re-heated steak anyway, so why waste it?! (ducks)

Just kidding!
~Absent

Dear treadmill,

How you move me, let me count the ways. Forward.
Ok so it’s only one way, but you challenge me with all your ups and downs and variable speed.
You make my breathe heavily, my heart race, and get me all hot.
You’ll even blow on me if I ask you too.

Some may spurn you in favour of fancy elliptical or stair climbing equipment, but for me there is no other choice.
And with winter coming you’ll be seeing a lot more of me while assisting me to see less of myself.
You’re the best!

Dedicatedly,
~Absent

I’ve stumbled across a few guitarists albums recently that I’m really enjoying.
Two in particular I used to listen to often when I was in my teens, and not only is it reminiscent of my youth, but I really like the music.

Steve Vai’s Passion and Warfare, and Joe Satriani’s Flying in a Blue Dream.
But a new artist, or should I say duo has popped up on my radar... Rodrigo Y Gabriela.

From a heavy metal beginning to their current flamenco genre, their story is definitely an interesting one, and their talent completely undeniable. Give them a listen sometime.

Went out with a few current, and ex colleagues last night for dinner (and beverages). One of which I hadn’t seen in at least three years was there and it was nice to catch up.

We sat outside (how nice of Mother Nature to cooperate) in the comfortable evening air and chatted easily as if we were all old friends. Laughing and joking about the times we had shared together in the office.

As I sat at the table looking at everyone I was struck with sadness as the reality of what we all worked for was no longer ours.

Dear Dallas,

Happy Birthday cutie.
The big two three huh? Enjoy it kid, and make it last.
After 25 they start coming quicker and you tend to lose track.
(Yes that’s why I’m still 29!)

Oh by the way… you can thank (blame) me for the doubles. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you could handle it.
Besides… I think it’s funny when you try to shoot pool after having a few!
(Yet you still give me a run for my money)

Anyway, I really hope you have a great day, and a great year!

Festively,
~Absent

You can tell by the look on her face that she is completely smitten with him.
He however, is more difficult to read.
Perhaps that alone is a sign that the feeling is not mutual. But that may just be my female take on things… or the pessimist rearing her head.

Women in general tend to wear their heart on their sleeve, while men are more reserved. (This is my polite way of saying most are severely emotionally stunted.)

In any case, I hope this young thing is cognisant and not blinded by his good looks and silver forked tongue.

I need therapy.
Writing therapy, retail therapy, liquid therapy… something strong.

I wish there was a chemical bank (like a sperm bank) where I could withdraw endorphins when needed.
Sex and chocolate aren’t going to cut it.

There’s no light at the end of this tunnel either. The medical advances only serve as baby asprin for open heart surgery without anaesthetic.

Stop the train, I want OFF!
Incurable doesn’t mean fatal, but I don’t want to “survive” like this!

It’s such a struggle some days. I step out of myself and watch from afar.
It’s not pretty… not at all.

The office has taken on a strange ominous aura.
Currently there are only 6 of us left, but by the middle of next week we’ll be down to 5.

The office used to accommodate over 25 people once upon a hay day.
But over the years as people moved on to other jobs they never bothered to hire replacements.

Before the VP of engineering and the HR rep showed up to hand out the pink slips we were down to 14, so I don’t think anyone was terribly surprised.

The office is so empty and completely foreign to me now.

The Cirque du Soleil show last night was fantastic.
That was the third time I’ve seen them and I’ve never been disappointed.

The first time was in a big top tent, and it was predominantly about the acrobatics. It was amazing!
The big top is a small show, and there isn’t a bad seat in the place.

The second show was in an arena, and it was predominantly about the music (which is live in every show), and it too was amazing.

This time was in the big top again, and every bit as impressive (even the $65 souvenir shirt).

Went and picked a half bushel of apples today from a (semi) local organic farm.

When I got there, the lady that owns the place warned me that they’d sustained some hail damage, and not to pick any fruit with holes that pierced the flesh. So off I went thinking how bad could “some hail damage” be?

I was lucky to find a half bushel, and at that I had to pick a variety of Macintosh and Courtland, because I couldn’t find enough decent fruit from either variety.

They’re pretty good eats, but I think I need to make pies.

I think I’m getting sick.
I could feel the weight settling into my chest last night.
Damned cold germs are setting up shop and inviting all their buddies along for the party.

Pretty soon they’ll be running amok in my sinuses, wreaking havoc with my mucus membranes, inflaming muscles and smoking my joint tissue. (Didn’t they know I was saving it for myself?)

By tomorrow I’ll be dizzy, feverish and feel genuinely unwell.
I found a few Riccola in the bathroom cabinet, but I’m thinking a trip to the pharmacy for Neo-citron et-al is going to be in the cards.

Dear New York quality assurance engineer II,

You are a dumb shit.
“Engineer” would assume you are educated to a particular degree.
And “quality assurance” would assume you have some clue and direction.

Why then do you call me at every turn and ask questions that you of all people should know?
(And I don’t have enough experience to do YOUR job.... not enough experience being a moron I guess)

That’s just fine… I’ll save your ass (yet again), and catch hell for it (yet again), all in the name of trying to fix this unrelentingawdamned mess.

Bitterly yours,
~Absent