I was just reading through one of my old poetry text books for kicks and I came across a bit of a poem that moved me. :) I just wanted to share it. :)

And you beside me, blessed now while sirens
Sing to us, steathily weave us into day
Serenely now, before day claims our eyes
Your cool arms murmurously about me lay.

While myriad snowy hands are clustering at
the panes--

Your hands within my hands are deeds;
my tongue upon your throat -- singing
arms close; eyes wide, undoubtful
dark

drink the dawn--
a forest shudders in your hair.

From The Bridge by Hart Crane

I just finished watching the movie Frailty for the first time. Didn't have time to catch it when it was in the theater.

All I have to say is Dear Holy Jesus God! I am disturbed to my core.

So, I bought a car last Saturday at that auction I mentioned in my previous post. I scored a 1995 grey Chevy Corsica for $2,100! (And if you're wondering, yes, I've been driving a Chevy Corsica for the past several years...my mother's car...it's a 1992...and it's grey!) And the kicker is that the car only has 56,000 miles!

When Ben and I went to look at the cars before the auction began that morning, I picked five cars that I decided I would be happy driving for the next 5 years or so. There was a red 1997 Dodge Minivan (big enough to haul all of my friends anywhere and my family on vacation!), a 1997 blue Ford Expedition, a 1995 white Crown Victoria (former police car. This was a freaking huge ass car...I loved it!), a 1993 white Jeep Cherokee, and the Corsica that I ended up buying. After narrowing my choices down, we approached the guy who inspects and cares for the vehicles for the WV Surplus Department. We threw question after question about the vehicles at this guy until we were satisfied. I had set my price limit at $3000 and after this talk I decided I had no chance in hell at winning the Expedition, so it got crossed off of our list.

We walked around a bit and after a short while it was time for the auction to begin!!! We took our place near the auctioneer and waited, excited and somewhat terrified. Now let me take a moment to describe the auctioneer. He had a large dark mustache, no beard, and was wearing a t-shirt and jeans along with a big white Stetson cowboy hat. A very interesting character, he drove a black limousine that had been detailed to appear that it had bullet holes all along the sides.

Anyway, it happened that there was a car dealer there...auctions are where they get most of their used vehicles...and he outbid us on nearly everything. The price on the Minivan shot up so fast we didn't even make our first bid, and we had decided not to even try for the Expedition. Then came the Crown Victoria. I wanted this car. It was nice and roomy, had 76,000 miles, and the only thing I would have to replace would have been the battery. So we bid up to $3,000 but the dealer outbid us at $3,100. :) And then the Cherokee came up and we were outbid again. Finally we came to the Corsica. We waited until the bid got up to $1,600 before jumping in and we took it up, matching the dealer with every $50 increase. It was so nerve wracking...watching Ben put me deeper into debt with the flick of a card...I was going to stop him at $2,300...but then the dealer caved in. We won! The entire crowd cheered for us, as that damn dealer had been beating everyone out of the good vehicles all day long.:) Victory for the little people...or in my case the big little people. Afterwards, he came over and gave me advice on where to get a new paint job for the car and congratulated us in his own way. He could've kept bidding...he basically let us have it, and for that I am grateful.

So now I'm the proud owner of my very own Chevy Corsica. The paint is chipping badly on the roof and there are a couple rust spots, though not very deep. That can easily be remedied with sanding. The only other problem is a loose screw in the motor mount, which can easily be replaced for the meager price of $20. I plan on getting it painted as soon as I get the license and all of that good stuff taken care of...that should be about $300 if the dealer is to be trusted. I just got my title in the mail today, so I'm going to try to head to the DMV tomorrow evening to pay my taxes and get the process started...and then I need insurance. All in all I should have it on the road in a week or two.

So the total cost of the car will be about $2,600...Hazel gave me $500 so that reduces it to a $2,100 cost to me...I had $700 left in my savings after the Florida trip...so that knocks it down to $1,400 that will actually remain on my credit card. This evening I'm applying for one of those cards that gives you 0% interest for a year on balance transfers...so I'll transfer my balance over and then pay that baby off as fast as I can! The cool thing is that I can set my own payment amount...and as long as I get it paid off within the year before the 0% interest runs out, I'm in the clear! Peachy Keen! :)

Damn...you can tell I came from a poor household, can't you? I think it shows in my ability to juggle money and debt. :)

Just when I think that my boss is the Anti-Christ she goes and does something incredibly helpful.

I plan on going to a state used vehicle auction this Saturday in Dunbar and I was discussing my hopes of finding a reliable car there this past week at lunch. After lunch Hazel tells me to remind her next week and she'll give me a $500 bonus. I tell her that I couldn't accept it, it's too much money, etc. I thought about it this weekend and decided that there was no way in hell that I was going to "remind her" about the money. It would basically be begging her for money and I'm still pissed at her. Ben and Shawn tried to change my mind...telling me that I was owed this money for her ill treatment of me, etc. But I wouldn't budge.

Well, yesterday she walks into the library and throws an envelope down on the table. I look up, surprised that she actually went through with it, and then proceeded to try and give it back to her. "I don't deserve this, Hazel. I haven't worked for it, I can't accept it. I don't feel right about it." She just held a hand up and told me to say "thank you." I looked at her a moment and nodded and said, "Thank you, Hazel".

I sat there a moment stunned. Feeling a bit guilty...a bit dirty. Then I laughed as realization washed over me. Hazel is the kind of person that offends people and then trys to smoothe it over by giving gifts. She was doing this to give herself peace of mind about belittling me in front of my co-worker. And perhaps to try and prevent me from leaving her employ the first chance I get.

Well, boss lady. I forgive you for your ill treatment. After all, it's not psychologically healthy to keep ill feelings and anger present all the time. It's far too stressful and damanging to the mind, body, and spirit. So, yes, I forgive. But I will not forget. Thanks for the $500, but the first good job offer I get I'm still out the door.

Silly wench.

Well guys, wish me luck at the auction this weekend. Hopefully I won't be outbid on the one I really want.

Sex was groovy. And now I feel like I could vomit. Beautiful.

Doesn't alcohol do the strangest things to people? And we use it to increase our chances in a relationship...to "bring out our true personality". Bullshit. All it does is make me want to pee more....and maybe lose my dinner.

I need water so I don't have an incredible hangover tomorrow.

I love you all. Yes...all of you...in ways that you can't even imagine.

Yeah...right now I'm drunk. My friend Shawn and I just polished off the very large bottle of Pinot Grigio that Ben's brother bought for me for my birthday. Actually, there's just a smidge left in the bottle, but Shawn has passed out and I've reached my wine guzzling capacity. :) (Didn't think that was possible, did you?)

It took me at least 30 seconds to type that last bit....yeah...I'm drunk. So now I guess I should go have sex or something. Bye.

~ CLG

If you pick at an old wound, it will bleed. (pick, pick, pick)

She never should have rented this apartment in the Mortal City
The cold comes though every crack she puts her hand up to
The radiator's broken, so she has to use electric heat.

And tonight was the first date with the brother of the guy she worked next to
He lived a couple streets away
He listened, he had things to say
She asked him up for dinner sometime
Sometime was tonight

The radio gave updates on the ice storm while she made the dinner
They said, from all the talk, you shouldn't drive or even walk
And this just in, we're asking everyone to turn off their power
They need it at the hospital.

She ran around pulling plugs, then she called him up
Maybe now they shouldn't meet, he said that he would brave the streets
She met him at the door with a blanket and a candle
Saying, I heard it on the radio, I had to turn my power off.

He said you're not the only one, the streets were dark tonight,
It was like another century
With dim lamps and candles lighting up the icy trees and the clouds and a covered moon.

She said what kind of people make a city
Where you can't see the sky and you can't feel the ground?

I tell you something, I have this feeling that this city's dying
He said, it's not dying it's the people who are dying
She said, yes, yes I think the people are dying and nobody cares.

We had all this technology our dreams were bold and vague
And then one city got bad planners, one city got the plague.

He asked why did you move here? She said, for the job
For the job and I've been so lonely here, so lonely
There's no one I can talk to, you know I don't even know your brother.

He smiled and said, sometimes at night I walk out by the river
The city's one big town, the water turns it upside down
people found this city because they love other people
They want their secretaries, they want their power lunches.

And think about tonight, I heard the same newscast you did
I unplugged everything, I looked out the window
And I think the city heard, I watched as one by one the lights went off
So they could give their power to the hospital

They ate in silence while she thought this over,
They sat together in a dark room in the Mortal City
Shifting in their blankets so they wouldn't get spaghetti on them.

Then came the awkward moment after dinner, what to do,
The ice was still falling, the streets were still dangerous
The cabs were not running and this neighborhood was not the greatest.

They both looked at the space where a couch would've been
She felt her stomach sink, she felt like she could hardly think

She said, I never should have rented this apartment in the Mortal City
The cold comes through eve crack I put my hand up to
The radiator doesn't work, I have to use electric heat.

That settled it, they would both sleep in her bed
It was a matter of survival.

She brought out t-shirts, sweatshirts, sweatpants, socks, hats
If there was ever any thought of what would happen in that bed tonight
There was no question now
They could barely move
They were wrapped up like ornaments waiting for another season.

They lay in bed, they listened to the pelting ice
He said my brother's not a bad guy, he's just quiet
I wished you liked this city
She said, maybe I do.

I think I have a special kind of hearing tonight
I hear the neighbors upstairs
I hear my heart beating
I hear one thousand hearts beating at the hospital
And one thousand hearts by their bedsides waiting
Saying that's my love in the white gown,

We are not lost in the Mortal City
We are not lost in the Mortal City

~ Dar Williams from Mortal City

On September 8, 1978 at 11:45pm in the town of Beckley, West Virginia, a third child, a female child was born unto Garland and Diana Garris. If this child had been a male it would have borne the name William Harry and would have been called "Billy" by it's parents. But such was not the fate of the baby born on that September 8th long ago. :) Instead she was called Christina Louise.

The name Christina was chosen because of the meaning "Christian, Annointed, one who is Christ-like" and because her mother thought it was pretty. :) Her second name, Louise, means "female warrior" and was chosen for her father's sister's mother-in-law, Louise Cernuto. She was a very kind old woman and sent Christina a card with a 5 dollar bill every birthday until her death in the girl-child's 8th year of life.

Christina's brother, Wayne, was at first a bit disappointed that he wound up with a little sister. This was in the day before they could tell the sex of a child before birth, and because the child was so large in it's mother's womb everyone was certain that it was to be a boy. When the 10lbs. 2oz. baby was delivered, everyone, including the parents, was surprised by her sex. Even so, they loved her and took her home. But her brother decided that he still wanted a little brother and called her "Chris" instead of Christina and did his best to make her into a tom-boy. He succeeded somewhat. She turned into a girl who liked climbing the cherry tree's in her backyard to get to her grandmother's roof, who didn't mind getting dirty, and who liked playing with army men, Hot Wheels cars, train and race car sets, Transformers, and He-Man and Castle Grayskull. But she also like to play dress-up, to play with her She-Ra dolls, and her Barbie dolls. She hated Cabbage Patch kids and loved Garbage Pail Kids stickers. She never owned a Care Bear, but she had taped all of their movies on Disney. And for whatever reason, her entire family has been calling her Chris since she can remember. Easier on the mouth, I suppose.

And here it is, my friends: I, Christina Garris, or Chris Garris, am 24 today. I left my childhood behind me some time ago, though my Hot Wheels cars and Barbie dolls are still in boxes at my parent's home. I left the youthful invincibility of my teens 4 years ago and today I leave the safety of my early twenties for the growing shadow of my mid-twenties. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that it's not my late twenties or early thirties yet...but I'm not well pleased about aging. Today I'm one step closer to the day that I will die. Well...so are all of you, I suppose. (Cheerful thought, isnt' it?) But that's beside the point. :)

Before I know it (and if the Creator grants that I shall live long enough) my breasts will be sagging, my hair will be graying, and my skin will be old and wrinkled. The beauty and sexuality of youth will leave me and I will be a withered shell. (And though I may be able to tie my breasts in knots or sling them over my shoulders for entertainment at parties, it still remains that I will have saggy, unattractive bobbies.)

As melancholy as all of this seems, it helps me to better appreciate what I have now. I am not perfect, but I am young...and there is no cosmetic, astringent, or anti-aging cream that can truly re-create the beauty of youth. All of us, all of you, my friends, my family, inspite of any physical imperfections we have...if we are overweight or our teeth are crooked and not so white as we'd like them to be...if our muscles are not as defined as that guy and girl's on the cover of Muscle magazine...if we are losing our hair...inspite of it all, we are still beautiful, we are young, we are still alive. So I will enjoy what I have while I still have it, and remember it when I am 80 and my hair is white and my breasts touch my knees while I am sitting. :)

I am also vexed by aging because it reminds me of the mistakes that I've made in my past. If I could only go back to 19 and right all of the wrongs that I've done since that point. But then, I would not be who I am. Living and years we must lose to gain knowledge and, hopefully, wisdom. And if I were to go back to 19, I would be 19 again in body and in mind. I would not have the knowledge that I have now and would most likely make the same choices, the same mistakes. :) Funny, isn't it?

The best that I can hope for is to take the knowledge that I have gained and try to pass it on to my brother's daughter, to the children that my sister will one day have, and to the children that I will one day have. Hopefully, they will heed my counsel and save themselves my errors. But then I'm sure they'll only find new errors to make, and they will gain their own wisdom, and they will attempt to pass that knowledge on to the next generation. :)

Well, it's my birthday. I'm 24. And I'm going to go and live this day.

My thoughts are with all of you, my friends and my family. I miss you!

~ CLG

Well, my bitch of a boss insulted me yet again yesterday. And I was oh so close to walking out that fucking door…but then my bills poked their troublesome little heads into my mind and stopped me from doing anything rash and irresponsible.

So the story is this: A certain claimant of ours died in May in an auto accident (right after taking Ms. Straub on to help her in her Social Security Disability claim). We’ll call the deceased former client Elaine. Elaine’s husband…we’ll call him Frank…decided that he wanted to pursue the claim for the sake of their children. (And for himself I’m sure. The bastard was about to divorce Elaine before she died.)

Anyway, the hearing on Elaine’s claim is set for September 13th, so I was following up on medical requests that we’d sent out. Well, I called one doctor and his staff said they had no record of our request and asked that we send it again; with a medical release of information authorization signed by Elaine and one signed by her husband, Frank. Not a problem. We have those on file. So I typed up the request and copied the release forms.

Now the claimants do not date the release forms when they sign them. We usually fill in the date whenever we send out our requests…. that way the releases will never expire…they’ll always have a current date. Anyway, it was the end of the day and my brain wasn’t working properly and I dated Elaine’s form August 28, 2002. I’m sure you all see the problem here. She couldn’t have dated something for August when she died in May.

I realized this yesterday when I called to follow up again on the request. The medical records clerk told me that she couldn’t send the records and I explained my error to her. She told me I’d have to speak with the office manager, who, of course, was not available. I left a message for the manager, knowing that all I would have to do would be to forward a new release with a correct date and all would be well and I would get the records.

Later that day, Hazel asked me how my quest for Elaine’s records was going and I told her of the mix up but explained that it would be taken care of. She rolled her eyes at me, sighed, and said, “That was stupid, Chris!” Anger flares, but I know she’s right…it was a stupid mistake, but nothing major…so I just swallow my anger and smile. “Well, we all make mistakes. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” (It was just a podiatrist's records anyway…and Elaine was not claiming disability due to the condition of her pinkie toes.)

A few moments later Hazel goes into Beth #1’s office and I hear her talking in a hushed voice, like she does when she’s gossiping about someone. So I decided to go and look for a file I was sure was in that room that I “desperately needed”. :) Hazel’s back was turned to the door so she didn’t see me come in and I heard her telling Beth of my error. She was using her best gossipy “oh-my-god-what-an-idiot” tone. In short, my boss was talking about me (in an unfavorable way) behind my back to my co-worker. I was furious.

Once she realized I was in the room she tried to turn it around. She said, “Well, who’s to say that I wouldn’t have made the same stupid mistake myself.” I didn’t even look her way. I just got the file I was looking for and walked back to my makeshift desk in the library. Obscenities were rushing through my mind and I wanted so badly just to let them fly. To tell the bitch exactly what I thought of her…how unprofessional her behavior was…how immature it was…how unkind…and how damaging to my integrity among my co-workers.

Instead I held my tongue for fear of breaking down in tears when I confronted her. She not only angered me but hurt my feelings. You see, since I was hired on at her law firm, I’ve done nothing but my best. I haven’t always done everything perfectly or as quickly as she might have liked, but I have done my best and I have to say that my best is pretty damn good. Every now and then, however, I have made the occasional error…nothing major though. But every time she has flown off the handle and insulted me. Like her blaming me for the cleaning staff messing with her fucking precious laptop computer. And her bitching at me for not delivering a document to Social Security that no one even told me that I was supposed to deliver! (It was my first day back from vacation and I was oblivious to what had been going on during my absence. I didn’t even know of the existence of the damned document.) Anyway, I take pride in my job and when I do something wrong; I feel it seriously and personally. When my boss insults me over it, I feel even worse.

My initial response to her insults was to try and do better. I internalized it, assuming it was a fault with me…assuming that I really was incompetent and stupid. After all, this successful and wealthy authority figure is telling me that I’m an idiot so I must be, right? Well, I worked harder, gave up lunches, came in early, but she never praised any of that. She probably never noticed. But whenever I fail to do something exactly as she wants it or if I mess up, BAM!!! She’s in my face telling me what a moron I am.

Finally, I realize that the problem is not with me. Yes, I screwed up, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed and it’s nothing that will harm her case. And I am tired of taking her shit. At first I really couldn’t believe she was actually saying some of those things to me. I was startled speechless. Now I’m just fucking pissed off.

It’s war, you goddamned, mother fucking, bitchy, old cunt!!!

I’m finding another job as soon as I possibly can, and then I’m going to tell her to shove her fucking medical records releases up her saggy, white ass.