The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

And Speaking Of… September 17, 2011

Hello all! You know, job-hunting is probably NOBODY’S favorite thing.  Am I right?  And I, being a normal-ish human like every other on the planet, am no different.  I truly hate switching jobs.  I hate being the nervous and inexperienced newbie, I hate applications and interviews, and I hate trying to fit in with new co-workers.  But finances being what they are, I took yet another step today in the process of getting a second/different job.  I told my current boss I was looking!  I know, ‘Yikes!’ right?  I didn’t tell him I was definitely going to find something else.  Oh, no.  I told him I was going to look for something to do in addition to working there, and I ever-so-gently indicated that if an opportunity to make more money elsewhere on a full-time basis presented itself, I would probably take it.  I just didn’t want him to be blindsided when I give my two weeks’ notice if I find something else anytime soon.


And speaking of finding something else, or someone else, as the case may be, I had the opportunity to meet someone on Labor Day who I think might possibly end up in my life for a long time….  (Get ready for the ‘Awwwwww!’)  My baby sister has a new boyfriend.  She came home that weekend for Labor Day and my birthday, and she was accompanied by her new bf, Mario.  Ok, his name’s not really Mario, but that will be his Bloggy Code Name.  It originates from the fact that a friend of his phot0-shopped a pic of him on Facebook and made him into Mario from Super Mario Brothers, which I thought was hilarious, but if I were him, I would put a dead fish under my friend’s pillow for that one.  Anyway, we all got together at my other sister’s house on Labor Day.  We ate lunch, hung out by the pool, and visited.   As “Meeting the Family” events go, it was quite successful.  We all liked Mario, and Baby Sis reports he was not completely repulsed by us, so all is well, and they are free to continue to pursue their friendship with our approval.  Ha!  Like Sis would give two hoots if we didn’t.  She’s definitely her own person, which is one of the totally awesome things about her.  As for my previous statement that this person may potentially be in my life for a long time, it’s because they seem to be EXACTLY alike, and he is the Male Version of her!  It’s pretty cool, actually.  I’m happy for her, and if he ends up being The One, then that’s pretty darn cool.


And speaking of people who are/were their own person, last Saturday was the anniversary of a memorable date among my family, and not for a good reason.  It was, in fact, one of the worst days of our lives up to that point.  On September 10, 1987 my grandmother, Alba Dean Findley, (aka Deanie) was killed in a car accident in Gallup, New Mexico.  She was an RN in the Traveling Nurses’ Corps.  She was simply an amazing person.  I have no doubt that if she had lived, she would probably have gone sky-diving on her 75th birthday or something.  I can’t really imagine her that age, because she was only 54 when she died.  Grammy was a huge influence on all of us who were old enough to remember her.  She lived her own life in a way that made her happy.  She embraced experience.  She savored beauty and sought culture.  She loved caring for people.  She tried to encourage her grandchildren to appreciate the things she enjoyed by sharing them with us.  She took us to classical music concerts and ballets, and took herself to the ancient ruins of Mexico.  She was beautiful inside and out, and I miss her.  In many ways, I would like to try to be more like she was, more brave and adventurous, more of a person who finds ways to create the life I want, in both big and small things.  I look forward to figuring out how to do that, you know?  Life is so short, it’s SO short, and we never know when it will come to an end.  I just don’t want to come to the end of my life and be filled with regret over the things I didn’t get to do, the chances I didn’t take, the love I didn’t express. 


And speaking of coming to the end of life, 9/11 was last weekend as well.  I can’t really say anything about that historic day that hasn’t been said, except to share a couple of my poems as more vivid expressions of all the things I felt about those events, and also about the similar event of April 19, 1995- the Murrah Building bombing in Oklahoma City.   I thought at first that I was more affected by the Oklahoma City bombing than I was the 9/11 attacks, but I couldn’t find a truthful way to complete that sentence.  Each attack was un-imaginably tragic in its own right, and both affected me (and the country) differently.  But each one has its own place in my poetry, and here are two of the poems I wrote following both attacks:

Visiting the Bomb Site

Standing, staring,

peeking through a window of time,

the building rises before your eyes

as once it must have been.

Nothing remains but a pile of red dirt.

It’s natural here,

but seems to stand for something more,

for those who lost their lives,

as if the color came

from all the blood that was shed.

Standing, staring,

hands on the fence,

 touching the crumbling flowers,

reading the faded notes and prayers,

even viewing the destruction,

you see what Hatred did,

and what Love had to say about it.

DD…………………… 8-11-95  4:59 pm


“Only To God”

What becomes of a people
whom tragedy befalls?
Where do they direct their monumental rage?
For fiery words and pounding fists
can never restore what was lost.
And where do they turn
for relief from sorrow, for balm of pain,
for even a moment’s peace?
When flowery words and philosophies
can never recall what has gone.

What becomes of a country
whose shores are invaded
by numerous enemies, hideous and hidden?
Where do they direct their revenge?
For flying missiles and political posturing
can never restore lost innocence.
And where do they turn
in their search for justice, to punish the evildoers,
when all the blood they can shed
will never be enough?

9/13/01 —————— 10:02 a.m.


Until next time,



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