Your Calendar is just Early.

T 13, The Revival.

13 Things People say that can really get under your skin:

13. " Well, if you lost thirty pounds you would look great."
12. " It's not you, it's your perfume."
11. "I, for one, wouldn't drive that/ wear that/ go there."
10. "I have to see you all week at work, why would I come to your cocktail party?"
9. Nothing. Silence can be painful.
8. "Nice to see you finally showed up for work."
7. "You look tired."
6. "I think people who don't have children
Shouldn't say anything
Don't know anything
Can't know what it is like."
5. "Are you serious?"
4. "What is it that you do here again?"
3. "What is your name this week?"
2. "Must be nice."

And the Number One offensive piece of blabb I heard this week:

1. "Of course she wouldn't check her facts, she doesn't care about that."

To all of you lovely people who made this week so pleasant: Take a long walk off of a short, oil-covered pier.

Something so sweetly, so quietly me.

...about the way everything has worked out.

Have you ever had a dream that you were the you, say, ten years ago? But that you knew everything you had learned in the past decade, and were ready for everything.

Lately I have been having these dreams. (I know, always a dreamer, never a star...)

I thought about what I would change if I had a chance; then I thought about how that outcome would change the Now. The now that is every second the increasing store of yesterdays and last weeks and decades ago. I thought about how I would face the Mr. Hamsters and Mr. Future Millionaires the Mr. L of ten years ago.

The bratty, the snarky, the moody, the weird faded and I thought I would face them with maturity and dignity. I thought I would tell them all that they did appreciate me and that I didn't appreciate that. I thought I would value myself more highly and carry my self with more grace and avoid the dis-. I planned to go back in the moment and remember it and savor the good while ending the bad miles short of what it was. And is.

I thought about the Misses and thought I would indulge them. Because we grew up and out too fast. Because weekends are hard to come by now. Because they always helped, even if what they did or said hurt. Misses are so oft' neglected.

Then, Scott told me all of my lofty dreams are impossible. He seems to think without everything, I would have never found him. Maybe he forgets that what is meant to be will be. Or maybe I forget that.

Maybe this is a stream and none of us can swim. Maybe we just float along, silently or noisily, with the current or drowning, with bumps and bruises or cleanly.

All that I am is the sum of all I have been. Every second, every dream I drop in my sleep, every memory I store in my mind, every song I keep and fact I forget, is a collage of an identity. I remember the things I have gone through, therefore I can prove my existence and secure my future. This thing I call me is just a total of one long equation, divisible by chapters, a multiple of smaller Me- like images, the addition of other influences, lovers, and moments, the subtraction of a few souls from the greater World Identity and there you have her.

Ladies and Gentlemen, there you have me. A definite identity, with an infinity of changes to come.