Money

I? Do not get how people do it. Because I? Am poor.

By "it" I do not mean anything dirty. I mean I get how people do that - and it doesn't have to involve money yo.

By "it" I mean all the glorious things that I hear about in the interwebz. It seems that everysingleperson on Twitter has an iPhone/iTouch/blackberry. I? Have a pink Razr that was the epitome of coolness and trendiness about 8 years ago. Note: I got mine 2 years ago.

And everysingleperson with a blog seems to be jetting off around the world to visit each other. I? Have met people in Winnipeg. And by the grace of God, my father took me on a family vakay to Florida, so I got to meet Britt and Hilly.

Everyone and their dog seems to have the latest, shiniest, prettiest new laptop with all the latest technology attached to it. I? Have a two year old desktop that keep shutting down firefox periodically despite my person's DH's best efforts.

I have a special assessment on my condo to the tune of almost $2,500.00. I have an almost $1,000.00 bill on my car. (That I just bought 2 years ago. Used.)

For my birthday? I decided that I wouldn't buy any souvenirs in Florida and I would save up to buy myself an awesome present. I had the order in with Wendy and everything. I mean they're silver rings people. NOT extravagant. But apparently the condo people needed that cheque by June 1.

Now I admit, I do not hoard money like ...well like someone who hoards money. But I don't throw it away either. Are people just living constantly in debt? Or do I just have a really skewed perception, and I just really am bad with money.

I picture bad with money being...well my brother. Utilities cut off. Missing bill payments etc. I'm all good there. Mortgage paid. Good credit. But I just have so little extra.

Perhaps I should consult with someone about this. Have them give me a weekly allowance. Cause I really want those rings....

WAH.

Anger. Guilt.

When I look at my life and my attitudes towards it, I realize that I drift along predominantly feeling two emotions: anger and guilt.

Often the guilt comes as a result of the anger. And sometimes the anger is because of the guilt. Either way, those two emotions glide beside me hand-in-hand all day every day. They love each other those two feelings. They cherish their time together and giggle gleefully while they torment me with their mischief and competitiveness.

Who will win today? Anger? Guilt? A tie?
They've become virtually indistinguishable from each other - like couples who start to look alike.
Or perhaps they're siblings. Who knows?

All I know is that those two feelings are what won't let me rest.

Anger has made me leave jobs. But guilt is what has kept me there for so long in the first place.
Guilt has made me do things that I don't want to do - for my brother, for co-workers, for friends - and anger is the result. I should perhaps add a little sister to the mix - anger's mini-sibling: resentment.

I volunteer for an organization, and I feel guilty that I haven't given it my all. Yet, I resent and get angry when they ask me to do more.

My brother makes me angry for being so irresponsible and inconsiderate, yet I feel guilty when I lash out at him for simply being who he is.

I confide in friends about some of my unhappiness and feel guilty for burdening them. Then am angry when they don't seem to care enough to follow up. Or when they offer advice that I don't want to hear. The I feel guilty because I am not immediately grateful for the fact that they even took the time to listen and offer their thoughts on the matter.

I feel guilty because I said something on this blog that caused me to lose friends. Then am angry because the punishment seems disproportionate to the crime. Then feel guilty again for not respecting their feelings enough to not be understanding without having an undertone of anger on top of it.

I don't know how to untangle myself from these emotions. They are my constant companions with everything I do. The guilt is what makes me monitor and censor every word I ever say to anyone. The anger is what makes me not want to answer the phone most nights.

I am constantly tired from this battle that is constantly occurring in my head. I know that these feelings shouldn't taint everything I do and say. I know that I should probably print out this post and take it to a therapist. I know that most people don't live their lives this way.

I try so hard to be good all the time. And I think these feelings are a side-effect of that. Trying to be good means that you feel guilty when you're not. It results in anger at others at the fact that they don't know just how hard you're trying. But why should they know? Why should they know that in my head is a constant battle of propriety and consideration.

It's exhausting. I can never figure out why all I want to do at my very core is sleep. Sleep well. Not toss and turn and wake up constantly. Perhaps it's to try and escape the battle. Escape the giggling siblings and their torments. Escape a life of appropriateness.

Anger and Guilt. I hate them both. Yet they seem to love me.

Guest Posting...

Missing your Princess my darlings?

Well today I'm over guest posting at Cissa's place.

Check me out over there where I try to convince Cissa that we should be bff's and just maybe I give you a little Half Naked Thursday action...

xo

I Forgot to Mention Perry Mason Too...

When I think about lawyers, sadly the first thing that comes to my mind is Matlock and John Grisham. Because I? Have really never needed a lawyer for anything monumental. Yes, signing condo papers. Yes, to write a letter for me once. But on the whole? I live relatively lawyer-free.

So this past year when I found that I was on a committee with a lawyer I didn't really think much about it. I don't really have opinions on them either way. Do they actually make all that much money? We don't really have commercials up here promoting the ambulance-chasing lawyer, so I don't really consider them to be particularly slick or annoying either.

Really, all I think is that they're probably pretty smart. Because I do have an inordinately healthy respect for studying and education. The fact that I didn't go any further than an honours degree means that I really admire those who found the energy and perseverance to go further.

This lawyer? Is a criminal defense lawyer. Again, I think popular TV and books. Cause really? Is it interesting fiction to focus on real estate law? Doesn't sound too interesting to me. Anyways, I didn't really think much about what he did other than a vague - "oh, so he works with criminals? OK."

But then I heard about a case that he was working on. It was quite high profile and since I sorta knew him I decided to read up on it.

And was promptly ill.

It involved a child. And he was defending one of the people involved in the abuse of that child.

So then? I started thinking about lawyers. Criminal defense lawyers specifically.

But this man? He's on a plethora of committees and boards. Because he's interested in them - not because he has to. And he's hilarious. And he gives you rides to your car. And he bakes brownies for the meetings. And he notices when you're struggling with your bag and helps you with it. And have I mentioned that the meetings are way more fun and hilarious when he's there?

But I couldn't understand how anyone could work with people who hurt a child. Who possibly raped women. Who possibly murdered who knows how many people.

How could your conscience let you defend a person when you know they've done these things? Why should you work so diligently to make sure they don't get punished? Don't they deserve punishment?

He struggled to explain it to me - and I could tell by the smooth tone of his voice that it wasn't the first time he'd had to do so.

He explained that the responsibility was on the Crown to prove his clients' guilt. He explained the various kinds of cases that he worked on, and that sometimes people end up in situations outside of their control that lead to them needing his defense.

"But what about when you know they're guilty?" He explained about the intellectual challenge, and the fact that everyone has the right to a defense.

I even had another lawyer ask me how I would feel if I was in the situation that required his expertise and it was denied to me because I was allegedly "guilty" ? And that that's not how the Canadian legal system works.

I still couldn't wrap my head around it.

I was at my Dad & Stepmom's for dinner the other night, and brought up this topic. My stepmom stated that he must be immoral. That all criminal defense lawyers must be.

And then I got angry. I don't get it. And there is no way that I could explain it to them in a way that made sense for that reason. But I can't wrap my head around the fact that an entire of population of people who work within the confines of law and the crown and helping people are immoral.

This man who heard that I'm throwing a candle party and said that he would come to be supportive. This man who offers to get me cookies and wine when I'm stressed about making public speeches. This man who insists on walking me to my car when it's dark because it's over a block away.

No. I refuse to believe that he's immoral.

But how many times has he been labelled as such? How many times a day does he have to defend his choice of career to people who have already passed judgement on him?

It's so easy for those of us who aren't in there doing it, to pass judgement. On both him and the people he defends. Is he guilty by association? Of all the crimes that he's defended people for?

Did he abuse that child? Rape that woman? No.

I still don't understand how someone can do what he does. I doubt I ever will. But isn't that the root of prejudice and intolerance? A lack of experience and understanding of what another person does? Fear? Confusion?

I would love to hear your thoughts on this...

Daddy

Hey Look! A Post dedicated to my Dad on Father's Day!
I am absolutely the queen princess of originality!

Yesterday I was begging my brother to take me to Costco so I could buy some bulk allergy meds. Since I have to take it forever, I may as well load up. As siblings tend to do, he was being difficult while actually intending to take me all along. In the meantime - my Dad went into his medicine cabinet and grabbed me some of his meds and handed them to me.

That is my Dad. No big deal. But taking care of you. He doesn't want accolades or a fuss made.

After I got home, my Dad called to let me know that he forgot to give me a gift that we had purchased for my cousin's graduation. He knew that I would want to wrap it.

That's just the way my Dad and I roll. With him I can be...calm. I can feel comforted and cared for. He does it in such a quiet, unobtrusive way that it's almost unnoticeable - until you really think about it. And this feeling of trust and warmth comes over you when you think about him.

I see how my step-sisters talk to my step-mom almost daily. Occasionally I wonder if I don't talk to my Dad enough. But I don't have to feel guilt like that. Nor does my hatred of talking on the phone ever have to extend to him. We can talk for 5 - 10 minutes once a week and feel that we've reported in. He doesn't want excessive fluffiness, which is a great comfort to me. Cause when I say I hate the phone? I really do.

All my childhood memories of him are of the warm & fuzzy variety. Him taking me for ice cream. Him taking me to my grandma's. Him bouncing me on his knee playing "horsey." Him playing catch with me. Him listening to stories that I had made up, and then us both agreeing that the ending doesn't really make sense. Him buying me 16 roses for my 16th birthday. Me calling him every day before he came home from work to discuss what we should have for dinner. Him attaching stupid vanity license plates to his car that I had proudly bought him for a gift. Him volunteering at my high school graduation. Him going away for the night so I could throw a crazy 18th birthday party. Him tolerating me calling him "father" all the time because the formality of it amuses me.

Some people might find him a touch too quiet or unassuming - but in my mind, he was the perfect dad to have.

Happy Father's Day Daddy.
I love you.

xo