hafacenturyncounting

Motivated by a lack of material.

A Birthday Card

Birthdays are special to me. Folks who are close to me know this and know I generally do not miss anyone I know special day.  It is a role I took on when my favorite aunt passed many years ago, it just fit.When mail was a main vehicle of communication our family knew there was a card coming on their birthday, and if you were local the most fabulous cake you could imagine, because Aunt Elinor saw to that.  I am not infallible as she was, nor am I the baker.  I  do offer what is available to me.

Pressed for time I wanted to share something from my childhood. Today marks a special day for a lady I have know since childhood. I met her as an awkward tween, when I moved next door to her. She was a pretty girl and I knew my life would be “hell”. However I was pleasantly surprised.. okay I was down right shocked, when she came into the backyard separated by a chain linked fence and offered a friendly “Hi”. I was swinging like a child, because I didn’t think anyone was watching. I said, “Hi” back to her and froze. She started up the yard and we were friends from that point on.. No not really. The sound of a record scratching drives home this point.

There is far more to our story than that. However, this is called  A Birthday Card not a series of books, and I say that because it would take volumes to cover what Kim and I have shared over these past 4o+ years. I think of the boyfriends, the times we did not speak to one another, the marriages, the parties, the births, and the passing’s. Departures and arrivals, zeniths and plateaus; I know I never dreamed the pretty girl next door would be my lifelong friend, so many years down the line and still as pretty as ever, as a matter of fact she is beautiful from the inside out. On the anniversary of her birth I just want to say, “Happy Birthday!! and Thank You my sister, and my friend for life. It is your birthday, but I have been the recipient of the gift for decades. Be blessed.

Has My Blog Died and Gone To Heaven?

Today we are going to do a Frankenstein type experiment utilizing a eulogy as the tool to attempt resurrection.

Hafacenturyncounting.com was cute down in it’s prime. A victim of neglect. No one could have known that after a few short weeks it would be treated as though it never existed. As passerby drops in a couple times a week, but overall the site remains quiet and unnoticed. The few followers are still around as loyalty is characteristic of them. One can easily see how blogs get caught up in the whirlpools of the internet, and you truly are only as successful as the last piece you wrote.

Hafacenturyncounting.com came to be three short years ago, armed with a background of a “seasoned novice writer” as it’s only tool. Continuing through the years hoping to connect with others on a common journey. There were no real expectations; only to be an exchange of information from one individual’s vantage point, with perspective many travel this same road and share these same experiences. Never wildly popular, but most who bothered to stop by enjoyed the visit. I blame marketing or lack there of. It is a plain paper bag in the world of colorful, picture riddled writings. Yet Hafacenturyncounting.com  believed it could appeal to the mature, serious-minded individual.

Hafacenturyncounting.com “bit the dust” without warning; okay maybe that is an over simplified assessment, but it took a backseat too long. I stopped writing everyday or every week for that matter. I thought there was enough material to keep visitors coming and there is a great deal to read(292 published blogs). What I failed to realize is we as a society are very much into the now, what is new will catch the eye. Even though there is a great deal in the blog to read, it only gets attention when a red flag is waved or an announcement of it comes.

Therefore, I wish to announce Hafacenturyncounting.com is not dead! My answer to the title is “Not by a long shot”! I do respectfully request a little more effort on the part of my followers, to bother to read more of the material contained in the blog. However, I will make every effort NOT to be negligent from this point forward. That said look for a least one piece per week.  Hafacenturyncounting.com does appreciate each of the followers, readers, and critic who stop by the site. See you soon.

Sorry To Disappoint You But…

I suppose I am not only confused, I am equally confusing.  If you have ever had your proverbial coattail pulled, you will be able to relate. You have to be able to bare your soul to those you call family and friends, but then the realization comes to you in an unexpected form, that maybe you need to keep a little of that soul covered for the sake of all concerned.

On this journey called life we encounter a vast variety of experiences that we sometimes have to come to grips with; we lived through them, but did not necessarily conquer them. The appearance of” being on top” for example can be deceiving and therefore gives off an illusion. You don’t mean to trick or fool those close to you, but they can easily be convinced of things merely because they want them to be true. Expectations are high, you don’t want to disappoint, but at some point in time you must face facts and so must those you are closest to.

Flawed, imperfect, weak, and devoid of solution you cower in your little corner waiting for someone to pick you up and carry you to safety, even if you have historically been the one doing the picking up. This now must be coupled with the knowledge your cries as well as your crisis went unnoticed. It is so difficult to carry so much and not complain. Honestly, it takes a lot to carry loads and complain. Understand as let down as you feel that”rock”, you thought you knew, is experiencing the backlash of what you feel and placing the additional burden upon themselves of “I should have been better“.

The problem with a “rock” is that the tough exterior is porous, this means the damage comes over time from something penetrating and seeping in. Conditions, just like climate, change and eventually the “rock” cracks; it is weakened now no longer able to withstand what it used to, finally  the crack will break the “rock”. Though it may take a long time and the outward appearance does not change much internal changes are taking place.

“Those things that do not kill us make us strong”. However, strong people get taken advantage of as much as the weak ones do.

XV-hafawaymovingforward

February 2014 is GONE! It looks like this year is moving faster than ever. i remember as a child constantly hearing adults upon meeting with one another saying things like,” Time sure is flyin”. Well now I see it for myself and it has a great deal to do with focus.

What are you working on in your life presently? I have several major projects going on in my mind and I am overwhelmed, just think what will happen when I actually start working on these same projects. “Where do I begin”, I ask myself each day. I skim over these items, touch upon them lightly, or perhaps not at all. I tell myself things like, ” I just need more time, or only if I had more time”. Neither of these semi-solutions are helping my projects move and they are solutions that are not currently feasible. Therefore, my works are in a state of limbo.

Not being able to focus and concentrate keeps one of balance. Soon other things that were not major players in your moving forward on these projects begin to interfere as well. I recently found that returning to  something that is very familiar to you helps. It is comforting to put yourself in a state that you “know your way around in”. This comfort may be a place, or with a person, perhaps you need a reconnect with God.

Whatever works for you, know you have to do something to pull yourself from this confusion. Think of that resting state, how it will rejuvenate you, how you will be strengthened and renewed. Realize this is the first place you must go before you can endeavor anything else. Once you get there, hopefully you will see the rest will fall in line.

Frienemies Will Come, Frienemies Will Go..

Oh yeah we all have them. Whether you admit or recognize them they do exist, and they exist in your life.  You just may not know them by the name. You eat lunch with them, you attend their parties, you live next door to them. Just when you think they are on your side, you find yourself face down on a sidewalk for no apparent reason, and guess who is the closest one to you.

A memorable one in my life  happened in when we moved to our home on the Palos Verdes Peninsula, my “Shang-ra-la”, over 24 years ago and frankly I can’t even remember the bitch’s name. Forgive my candor. She was rather insignificant in my life other than we lived next door to one another. Her family consisted of two girls and a husband, mine two boys and a husband. Our children went to school together; elementary and middle, they were far friendlier with one another than we parents were. Yet we were cordial, we exchanged niceties, there were brief simple conversations, and did not interfere with our kid’s friendship.

One  hot day I was picking my son up and my car died; I wasn’t so worried about the car, I wanted to get the kids home, and my husband was at work. I saw my next door neighbor and thought, “Oh great I can catch a ride with her, my husband won’t have to leave work and when he gets home later he can deal with this”. No, I did not have triple A at the time. If you are a parent you know the scene at school when picking up kids a stream of cars waiting their turn to pick up the children and whisk them away to the next destination, be it home or some after school activity. So I rapidly walked over to her minivan window and said ,”Hi___ (at the time I knew her name;by the time this was over she had a new one that I do still know) my car just died on me and I was hoping I could hitch a ride with you..” She looked at me with an acknowledging but blank look, then said in a cheesy manner while lifting up her cell , ” You can use my phone.” I put my hand up to say STOP squinted my eyes, and walked away shaking my head. I was livid. I  had a cell phone, the wait was the issue. I tried to justify why in the seconds that preceded my anger. The oversimplified and most obvious was never far from my first thought. The Peninsula was not the most diverse area of Southern California. We waited for my husband to come and we survived.

About three days later, after the mail truck passed I was out at my mailbox and “she” came out while I was standing there.  She gave me this uncertain smile and waved. I glared at her with contempt, our eyes met, I shook my head in disgust, smirked, and walked away. I never waved or spoke to her again. We lived next door to her family about a year after that incident and then we moved to Georgia. Needless to say without any type of exchange.

It is amazing how a simple not well thought-out act can change the course of relationships forever. Looking out for packages when no one was home, watching for strangers, being mindful of children, even paying attention while out and about became stricken from my mind. In reality I did pay even closer attention to those things, hoping for an opportunity to make the decision to be as much of a JERK to her as she was to me.  After all now and understandably so, I would help an absolute stranger before I would lift a finger to assist HER in any way, fashion, or form.

I had to stop myself at some point though and realize/admit that we were never anything to begin with. That is what frienemies are about, they get or are close to you, the feign good feelings/ good will and when you least expect it.. watch-out-for-that-cement-truck-comin-at-you-too-late! Frenemies are neighbors , co-workers, relatives and sometimes they are close enough to be mistaken as friends. They want something from you. It may be as simple as, “I need to know you won’t let someone you know break into my house and rob me blind” or “How good are you at this job and how much competition will  you pose to me in my quest for this promotion” to “I need to know you won’t let my mate sleep with you“. Get this folks “they” (shoe on the other foot) will let someone break in your house, sabotage your promotion, contest the will, AND sleep with your spouse!

Therefore watch out for them. If you run into someone who has virtually nothing in common with you but you just seem to click, or IF you run into someone who you have an amazing amount of things in common with; take a good look at what you PERCEIVE as the connection. For while strange new relationships seem novel at the time, sometimes with a closer look, you may save yourself an unwanted surprise awakening.

Now I Am “Miss Eileen, Older Lady Esq.”

Well it happened; I returned to the work world, and it was a happy return. Being an entrepreneur has had its ups-and-downs. I have not given up totally, but simply need some things right this instant.

I took a job that has me on the P.M. shift, and during certain seasons here in Georgia, it gets cold at night(later I would realize this was a poor excuse). I have never been a pants type of girl, but the job has prompted me to become one. So there it is, use of the term “girl” referencing myself. Well what’s wrong with that I think;  I am still vibrant and healthy, when I bother to take time I still can hold my own, or so I think/thought. I chuckle as I write this, because more and more I see the vanity rising from the ashes of my youth.

One day a younger woman was walking along side of me in the hall as we left class together, we have been in training for several weeks now. She is a tall shapely lady, pretty face, well coiffed hair. She says to me, ” I hope you aren’t uncomfortable because I know you see me staring at you.” I replied to the contrary. She said, “It is just that you remind me of my MOTHER so much.” I smiled and said,”Oh really.” She was excited and happy I suppose, because I hadn’t noticed her stares.  I did not know what else to say so I replied,” That is funny, but you know it is said we all have a twin..” I kept smiling. I cannot say I was flattered or bothered; that is until I relayed the story, over and over and over again.

The image of Goldie Hawn in “The First Wives Club” resonated in my mind. The scene where Goldie’s character is told, by a younger prettier actress, how happy and excited she was to have Goldie Hawn cast as HER mother. Goldie was white and frozen faced. I hoped I did not have that look on my face, but was not at all sure. Disney villainesses like Cruella De Vil, Snow White’s  and Cinderella’s  respective Evil StepmothersMaleficent  and my personal favorite Ursula(love that name)flashed before me. Each of them older, beyond child-baring years; gray, white streaked, or covered hair, dark, sinister, evil and angry that “young and pretty” existed and they were no longer a part of that world. Unable to embrace what time had given to them, because they were so concentrated on what it had taken away from them instead.

Yet, none of the positives of aging occurred to me  or obviously that the process was beginning to take shape in my life. Then a couple of weeks later when, I stood outside of my co-worker friend’s cubicle while our “coach” was having a discussion in which he used a few curse words. Now I must tell you during my life I have heard a curse word or two, I have actually used a curse word or two, but what happened subsequent to this is what is interesting. Our coach who is younger than me said, ” Oh I am sorry I have to reminded myself to watch what I say around OLDER people…” Whatever he said beyond that I basically turned off. My opinion of this man changed(I am being honest my ego took a HIT and I was pissed with him). He is not an especially young man nor is he my age, but from his appearance I know we are closer to class mates than being on opposing sides of the “generation gap”.

Alright, my hair is  salt and pepper( I get many compliments on it), I dress conservatively (in reality uncharacteristic of ME would be a better description) my patience is not at it’s peak, and I do not learn or retain at the level or speed I used to. I have changed and I came to grips with perhaps my “sexy” has abandoned me, along with several other attributes of my younger years. I wasn’t really paying attention to it, but now suddenly it was gone. Taken for granted and ignored, I woke up and it was gone. Wow, that was a bit distressing. It is amazing how our perceptions  interfere with true sight. Now the only person I remind folks of is someone that has experienced a bit of life. There is nothing wrong with being a mother. I have two sons and a granddaughter, why should I trip? Well because it took a series of events to remind me that I was not quite ready to inhabit the “rest home”.  Although my behavior suggested otherwise;  I work -out 5 days a week, I take the stairs  from the forth floor several times a day in an 8 hour period by choice without ramifications, and stiletto heels are still a part of my wardrobe.

While I was in the midst of doing so many other things in my life, transitioning into other stuff, I lost sight of ME and who I truly am inside. I didn’t even know these changes were only scratching the surface of what was really going on. Upon realizing this, with the help of my friend(MJ), I had to come to grips that losing me was affecting every other aspect of my life; from performing at my new job to my interaction with my granddaughter. I  said to myself, “I AM Miss Eileen and this is who Miss Eileen is.  Miss Eileen is gonna do Miss Eileen the way she always has, as long as she has the strength, vitality, and desire to do just that. Furthermore, I am gonna feel just fine in doing as such.” The proclamation helped me “rise from the ashes” and move forward.

Therefore when you get stuck or overwhelmed, rest assured the answer is waiting in the wings, sometimes you just have to take out your glasses and look for it.

Looking Forward

It was that time again, the annual physical.THANKFULLY! Now I am not one of those folks who dreads doctors and hospitals. I have been a rather healthy individual. I have had bouts with weight, but other that that I have been blessed. I was also blessed to be back in a “situation”that allowed me to once again have health care benefits.

I start the process late January early February. I did the vision, dental, and medical within days of one another. Everything was as I suspected. I got contact lenses for the first time and I had a couple of cavities to be filled.I came through the annoying/uncomfortable female screenings with flying colors. All in all for someone who has not been under a doctor’s care since 2009, I have to say I was happy.

Now the fact that I could lose 15 to 20 pounds did not make me happy, but it did not surprise me. I could say at 5’10” I still did not have to be inducted into the 200 lbs club. Judge me if you choose , but in that process think about the frame that carries those pounds and allow me the excuse, ” I have big bones”.  Hey if you cannot laugh at yourself…. I saw Red Velvet cupcakes, Red Velvet pancakes, kettle chips, and NO EXERCISE flash before my eyes. I knew what I had to do, for once again the Osmosis Method of Working Out was NOT working out.

My journey began Saturday February 8, 2014  I want to tell you this will be the last time I face this challenge; I now have the answer because even though I may have the answer, I realize I may not always use the knowledge and information I have obtained as I should. Therefore, I will say I am hopeful that I do not get to this place again armed with that same knowledge. Thus far it is feeling good and my intention is to not only keep it up until I reach the desired weight, but to make this program a way of life. I am not SIMPLY looking forward to fitting into those jeans again, I am just looking forward to living.

Assigning Blame and Finding Justice

So you have been wronged, what now? What will make you feel better? I would say nothing short of getting exactly what YOU think would be fair. However in the real world, the world that advertises the impartiality of justice, but practices a subjective interpretation of that same justice, the likelihood of you being completely satisfied is slim .

Here we are once again with a high-racially charged profile trial; The Florida Case of Michael Dunn accused of killing 17 year old Jordan Davis. Manipulated by the press and media in all forms, we are being taken on a guided tour of our fearsinsecurities, and anger. Each of us asks, “What on Earth are these jurors missing, Why can’t they see what any half -wit can see?”I blame/give credit to the media for playing “us” like the ratings experts they are.

Lets go for fear to start with; in a trial where race IS factored in, as in this case, the group who the victim belongs to feels like,” If justice is not served we will see an upsurge of this behavior for there is no consequence. While the counterpart thinks,” This is the way it is and one must accept it”.

Our insecurities come into play asking,” What do we do, how do we react now that this has happened and if the system fails us, AGAIN” Counterparts,” This one has to get through, but how many more will? How do we keep THIS system in check?”

Finally, anger rears it’s head and is ready for a fight. Armed with that anger nothing is impossible, it is fueled for war. Yet you must realize it oftentimes charged with the energy of emotion there is little room for logic and common sense. “We are NOT going to stand for this treatment”, says one side while the other side say, ” We are prepared to fight”.

In another life perhaps I would have liked to have been an attorney, for I love the law and am fascinated by it. I respect the law and realize I DO NOT UNDERSTAND ALL ASPECTS OF IT. However, I do possess the ability to read, understand and think. I have to trust the system and give the benefit of the doubt to the jury, that they have these same characteristics available to them as well.

Admittedly, I do exist in the “racial divide”. I don’t want to, but I am neither naive or stupid. I am however, HOPEFUL. I do not walk around with a perpetual “chip-on-my-shoulder”, but I do not exist with blinders over my eyes either. I can say I have happily found a place that keeps me residing in that HOPEFUL state, but every-so-often I get a visit from unfair, sometimes injustice invades my space.”They” are not always going to go away quietly, but then again neither am I.

Hoardertown, U.S.A.

Duluth, Georgia quiet suburb northeast of Atlanta. Part of Gwinnett County one of the largest if not the largest counties in Georgia. Diverse in a demographic sense and down-right picturesque. However, if you look closely we have an on-going problem. Hoarders love Duluth.

I live next door to a hoarder. Now over the years I have to say, I must consider myself very fortunate. I say this because there is a bit of gypsy in me (I have moved around). Coming from a family that stayed in one house almost all of my childhood(and my mother still lives in that home), I have to take into account changes are minimal when you stay in one place. Neighbors become familiar and if you are lucky they are extended family.
While I grew up with that, in my adult life the experience has been different.

Searching for an ideal location, jobs, and economics have played a role on my semi-transient lifestyle. People want to believe they have a right to do whatever they please in the place they call HOME. While in many instances this is true, one must remember one small addendum should be included in that thought pattern; it only holds true as long as you do NOT interfere with others right to enjoy their respective homes.

Many hoarders have mental defects, but can still function somewhat normal. Therefore, their environment looks one way to them and quite different to others. My hoarder neighbor is no different. His living space, the exterior of his mothers home screams to passers-by,” there’s a problem at this house”.
What must it be like to be lost in illusions, what must it be like to have nothing so you imagine the rubbish and refuse you pick up along the road is important.  Couple that with his identity is directly connected to his “stuff” and that “stuff” is worthless thereby translating onto “he” is worthless.
I on one hand pity him but on the other hand want nothing more than for him,and all that is associated with him to disappear.
I wish I could say I don’t hate him, but that is not true. Hate is the first word I would associate with this man and his mother. It is a genuine effort for me to rise above this distasteful feeling. I do not want to relinquish the power the bad thought pattern associated with the word “hate” holds , but do not want to be the bigger person  either. I would try like to see them suffer because they deserve it and I am further angered by his mere existence and this has made me become more primitive. On my better days my wish is for him to simply vanish.
One must always remember that others have rights;this fact makes our society great but during your personal battles the appreciation for this is not foremost on your mind. As I combed through city and county codes, as I contacted agency after agency, as my frustration mounted I saw how our great system allows people who clearly have mental defects to walk and live among us. We, the so-called normal ones ,those if us who are only mildly deranged and manage to remember to take our meds; we must endure and accept people who whether consciously or unconsciously would deny or interfere with us exercising those very same rights. You run into a brick wall most of the time and heaven forgive you if you be incorrect on any level as you seek a remedy for your problematic neighbor. It feels like you are being punished for making these agencies work.

Solution the pen is mightier than the sword . Enlist news services and social media. Contact city, county, state representatives make them work. If you must endure this annoyances, literally let them feel your pain. I believe wholeheartedly the reason we have the animal hoarders and hoarders in general is because it take so very long to get to step one in the process of making these people comply to laws, rules and regulations, and if you let up for even a moment the process has to begin again. No one wants their lives to revolve around such negativity but you must be aware if you stop your problem will not only return, it will persist and worsen.

Why Does The Writer……

Why does the writer… well of course the question ends with the word “write”. In my in-between state(before deciding to and actually getting up) a song came to mind. I could hear it faintly in a far off sort of way, audible but not distinguishable. My thoughts went to Dr. Seuss, for my childhood was filled with his books, and this nagging thought finally helped me out of bed. It kept tugging at me, it didn’t seem quite right. I positioned myself in front of my laptop and as I scanned my e-mail I realized it was not Dr. Seuss but a song from The Little Drummer Boy ringing in my ear “Why Can’t The Animals Smile”. Little Aaron’s puppet face appeared to me with the painted smile, plastered on his face because his hardened heart made him a boy who felt like he had no reason to smile.

Writers know that when the writing comes to you, that is the time you have to stop what you are doing and simple write. It may wake you up at 3:45 in the morning, or in a class, or waiting for the kids outside of their school. Fortunately for the writer, as well as their audience, technology has saved many a manuscript, screenplay, novel-in-the-making. However, none of the available resources mean anything, if the writer doesn’t write.

We all have stories; I think writers possess the ability to recount theirs more detailed, with accurately, and can express varying vantage points more so than others. I am not taking away the credit for the unmistakable talent, but the talent is subtle. In a world where loud and high visibility are key in terms of success, printed words can go along hidden in plain sight for a very long time. Thus so does the writer.  We obtain comfort from words, like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. There is strength in our expressions of the written word; our laughter, joy, and pain stare back at you from the pages or the screen. Many times you see yourselves in our words but know that those words are a part of us as distinguishable as DNA. We just tell you how we feel and make you aware that all of our lives, as individual as they are, remain intertwined and connected. That is why you run across something in a book, magazine or newspaper that tells a story which could very well be yours; a tale of something that has happened or is happening to you. As musicians fill our lives with massaging comfort to our ears, as artist illuminates our eyes with the beauty of color,  we are the gift of conscious thought.

Why does the writer write? We write for the sheer love of writing, we write to free our minds, we write for you.

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