tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36945682000018953732024-03-14T05:22:29.051-05:00Sam-in-ProgressWe are joining our regularly scheduled broadcast of Sam, now in progress.Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-74455330156412779092011-01-04T09:29:00.003-06:002011-01-04T10:02:01.355-06:00Happy New Year! Where's the booze?<div style="text-align: justify;">Well hello there. How are you? Miss me?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, I'm being a little less than honest when I say that I've tried to be diligent with the blogging. It's been kind of a rocky year. But I came through, happily, unscathed. On to better things.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The cruise is coming up (roaring up more like), and still not beach body ready, but I'm attempting to get closer to my goal after a prolonged plateau. But I'm sick of talking about weight loss, so let's talk about something else.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">How about how I learned I might be a bulldog in the right situation? It turns out that I can be fiercely loyal and can't stand it when others are mistreated. That's a recipe for potential disaster in the workplace. Let me elaborate:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My co-worker, who is also my friend, was very wrongly coached (that's Wal-Mart speak for being written up) for not doing something that she DID do. I can't go into details due to proprietary info and the like. Suffice it to say that she did the work she was supposed to, then coached for not doing it by our overzealous (and really quite young and potentially immature) new manager. Despite the plethora of evidence to the contrary, she went ahead and coached my friend anyway. Now, even though she's a lot older than our manager, my friend is rather shy and timid, so she didn't defend herself. I couldn't abide this sort of treatment, so I offered my vociferous objection (angrily might I add). Granted, I didn't get in trouble, but I think it's obvious that she knows that I have very little respect for this manager (who I will call AMB). I'm sorry, but if you are going to step on people, make quick and unwarranted accusations, you better be ready for those consequences. This is the second time this has happened around me. The next time, I'm going over her head.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now, on to a little year in review.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I did quite a bit of family history research this year, and because of this, I've been in contact with several distant cousins. It turns out, my fifth great-grandfather on my dad's side was a British Loyalist who was enlisted with the British army and ended up being run out of what became the US and ended up in Canada. So, that's why my paternal grandfather's family was from Canada. Some interesting history on my mom's side too. My sixth great-grandfather was a master on a sloop that traveled to the West Indies during the American Revolution to procure salt. His son fought in the War of 1812 and is believed to have died from either an injury sustained during the war or an illness that he caught during that time. He died before he met his youngest son, my fourth great-grandfather, as he was born after that.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I think that the most interesting thing that I've taken from all this searching is that I had no idea how extensive my family's history in this country was. I guess I always thought that because of the few branches that I knew came over in the latter part of the 19th century, that my whole family hadn't been here that long. It turns out that I have pilgrims on both sides of my family, with one, that I know of, being a founding member of a church that started in Rhode Island and a couple of its towns. Who knew? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I never knew my great-grandfather Betts' first name because he was estranged from the family, and I was able to locate that and learn so much of my family as a result. I never knew that another great-grandfather had siblings (all sisters) and that they were older than him and had families that I may be able to track down if I get ambitious enough. I was even able to locate his parents' and oldest sister's voyage from Bohemia to the US.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It turns out it takes a lot of people to make you - parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents, etc. Double the amount with each generation back. It's amazing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That has to be the best thing about 2010. I have a greater sense of myself because I have a greater sense of my family. And that will only become more clear this year, with more research and more connecting.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I wish you all the same this year. </div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-41965044575463030082010-08-27T14:46:00.001-05:002010-08-27T14:46:00.987-05:00Progress Report (without all those icky grades and stuff)<div style="text-align: justify;">I came up with a plan for the next three months for the weight loss. I started it on the 22nd, and so far have managed to follow it without deviation. It pretty much consists of going back to avoiding dairy, eggs, processed foods, and refined sugars. Let's face it: I do and feel better that way. So the two month binging from my birthday on has come to a definite close.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But amid all the ridiculous instant self-gratification and gorging, I found out something: I didn't gain a single pound. I got my cake and ate it too. Unreal! How the hell did my over-30 and counting body manage that? Is it somehow the rule that sometimes you CAN do whatever you want and it still works out? Wow, have I been living in some sort of self-loathing bubble for the last few years.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">To be fair, I was being pretty good most of the time. I didn't have milk, instead opting for rice milk with my oatmeal. I very sparingly ate items with egg in it. I checked the ingredients labels for the things I shouldn't be eating anyway. Go figure! Not a single pound! Even after that giant caramel-oozing brownie that Krissy, my lovely baking co-worker made for my birthday. I lovingly savored that baby for three days. If you're gonna fall off the wagon, better to go all out. It's the only way to make it worth the future self-resentment. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Forget self-resentment though. Not this time. Miracle! Angels singing in the background. The clouds part and a beautiful shaft of light illuminates the numbers on the scale. Not a single freakin' pound! How utterly breath-taking is that? I thought for sure I was going to have to suck it in and raise my arms and all that nonsense. Nope.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Back on the wagon I go. I raise my skirts, exposing my petticoat to the world (that's just how I roll), climb back in one leg at a time, sit on that ever uncomfortable bench, right the bonnet on my head, and begin that ever-so-long journey for the future body that will fit into the clothes I have already bought in my mind. God, I will look awesome in them. I won't even have to suck it in to button the jeans.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another phenomenon has occurred: the jeans that I have been meaning to fit back into have either gotten bigger, or I've gotten smaller. On a whim, I took them out yesterday, just to see what the scoreboard had to say. Those bad boys went on. A little snug. But they went on. They buttoned. They zipped. They didn't rip. And most shocking of all, I could walk in them not at all like a robot. Amazing! When did that happen? I've been sporting way-too-big pants for a while because I've been in between the size I was and the size I want to fit back into. So, it was a matter of time, of course. My lazy ass hasn't even been working out. If I hadn't been there, I might not have believed it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now, dear readers, if you think I'm stopping with those jeans, think again. Still following the three month plan. Phase one has begun. For once, I'm micromanaging my weight loss. This will be so much more manageable. The next meeting with the scale is Sunday. God-forbid that number has gone back up. I swear, I'll smash it. It better not tempt me.</div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-46312417812715900202010-08-26T11:37:00.003-05:002010-08-26T11:51:56.195-05:00Sam-in-Limbo part deux<div style="text-align: justify;">I keep asking myself where the sequence of events that led me to this moment started. Was it the losing of my position several years ago? Was it the seven funerals I went to over a two-year span? Was it a horrible, horrible break-up? I just don't know when exactly the ground started to shake. But I do know that it's starting to stabilize, and my reminiscing is only for the benefit of not repeating the same humiliating process.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had to attend a hearing of with the trustee (part of the bankruptcy process) on the 9th. No creditors showed (surprise, surprise). It was in the federal courthouse downtown, which I found to be incredibly beautiful on the inside. There's this atrium in the front-center that reminds me of something out of photos of world's fairs long past. I wish I'd had a camera with me. Going back to take some photos might be awkward to explain to the guys at the metal detector. My meeting was practically first thing in the morning. So walking through that atrium alone, inevitably, my head turned upward to the skylight and balcony-hallways above. What a nice way to start the day that would begin the real relief (and possibly healing) of the past several years. Now, I have to begin the work of repairing my credit and re-starting my adult life. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I was young, this is not how imagined my life would turn out. I imagined myself traveling, and writing, and having fun. Doing good in the world. Instead, I've stagnated into a truly ridiculous rut. Fear does that, I guess. Here's the funny part. I'm not really feeling afraid much anymore. I think the whole bankruptcy process has taught me something important, something I wished I'd learned a long time ago: people aren't judging me, and if they are, it isn't harshly. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I've gone a long time since feeling like I wanted people to see me. It's coming back. Wow, to not be in perpetual hiding is refreshing. I don't even think I realized I was doing it until now. Weird.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, my lawyer informed me that I have to finish my pre-discharge course (online, thank God), and expect everything to be finished within seventy-five days (sixty for the creditors to object, but a little extra for me to have my final result). So, seventy-five days from Aug. 9th, it'll be done with. And not a moment too soon. I'm trying to think of something to reward myself with. Hmmm...</div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-25107371684192547212010-07-30T16:05:00.002-05:002010-07-30T16:05:00.633-05:00She's rumored to be single...<div style="text-align: justify;">I met my friend Danielle the other day to discuss shore excursions for the upcoming cruise (in February). We hadn't seen each other in a while, so a little catching up was in order. She's seeing a new guy. This is a good thing. She'd been with the same guy for over a decade, with it leading to nowhere. After her wise decision to move on, she didn't wallow in loneliness or bitterness [insert well-thought-out Sam joke here]. No, she joined a bowling league, spent more time on herself, and started seeing a nice guy. Good for her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And when the conversation moved on to my niece, and I inevitably started to gush (just a little), she said, "Oh, your biological clock is ticking." God forbid. I was supposed to be the one chick in my age group whose every waking moment wasn't thinking of babies. Procreation has never been an obsession for me. That was a driving force for my sister, but not for me. Nor has it ever been a priority. But then, neither has dating and eventually settling down with a mate. Nope. Sam has been perfectly content with being single.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now, in the midst of all of my re-evaluating, I have to see that it hasn't been contentment, but rather an overshadowing, pervasive fear of rejection. Everyone wants to be with someone. I'm not really an exception to this. But it's more comfortable to not even try than to live with butterflies in my stomach with first dates, or giving my heart to someone who may not give theirs in return, or having to reject someone myself simply because I don't feel a connection (or attraction for that matter).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sadly, my mother brings up on practically a daily basis that I'm not getting younger and that if I'm going to provide her with some grandchildren, I better hop to it. My sister is the same way. I keep trying to see it as they just want me to be happy. But it feels more like nagging.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Since Lily was born, I have gradually warmed to the notion that I, too, want my own legacy, a piece of myself to live on through another being (in case the book-writing doesn't work out). The feel of holding a child, loving a child, being the most important thing in their world, and for them to be mine, has a certain appeal. I won't say that I'm driven towards it, but it is a thought that has entered my mind a time or two since my niece entered the world.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Wouldn't it be nice if we could just skip steps and just get to the good parts, and miss all the uncomfortable ones?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On to a related note, I have previously mentioned someone I once liked very much (EC) who kind of burned me, for lack of a better phrase. On third shift, I saw him maybe once every couple months, if that. Now that I'm on first shift, I have to see him all the time. It's not awful. The discomfort of letting the past interfere with my thoughts of him instead of seeing him as a decent human being and not the spawn of Satan has officially passed, and I would hope to be friends with him. At the most. I promise. Still, why does he have to be so nice, and so cute? It's easier to overlook them when they're not that great. I went through a period where it was hard not to think of him. I think I'm finally getting over that. Crushes suck. This one in particular, because it won't lead anywhere.</div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-40650576147683943182010-07-29T12:07:00.003-05:002010-07-29T12:43:04.639-05:00Sam-in-Limbo<div style="text-align: justify;">Before I try to justify my long absence with a list of things that have been plaguing me to no end, I'll just say that I'm sorry. I've really needed an outlet too, but it seems that stress has this way of shutting me down to the point where I'm paralyzed, just existing as it were. So, no blogging, much less writing of any kind. That's horrible.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, some things have happened. After my life-changing decision to pursue veganism, I made a huge discovery about myself. It's really not easy to give up cheese. I love cheese. I love the different kinds of cheese - blue cheese, feta, cheddar, Parmesan, mozzarella, heck, even some swiss (okay, maybe not swiss). And while I was able to avoid it for a long time (months), I caved in about a month ago, and let's just say that it hasn't officially stopped. So, instead of calling myself vegan, I say I avoid dairy and eggs, not to mention processed foods and sweeteners. The result of that avoidance is 28 pounds gone (though I've got a ways to go). But I better get back on the ball. There's a cruise in my future, and this ass just won't cut it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Apparently, my current financial state is as much in limbo as I am. A couple months ago, I was told that my position was being eliminated. Ugh. Really? They couldn't just leave well enough alone? They had to mess me up again, and leave me scrambling to find another position that probably would force a pay cut, not to mention the loss of my third-shift differential. Like the other madness that Walmart has been forcing on associates and customers alike (restructuring and stream-lining selection and store layout - even associates can't find what they're looking for), </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I found myself in a bit of a predicament. If I'd been told a month and a half earlier, like I was supposed to be, I would've found something on third shift available. But they didn't, and I was stuck with some lame-ass bakery job. (No offence bakers everywhere.) I discovered two things when I did this. Firstly, the bakery at the store is just barely that. Here's what I mean: the product is purchased from other companies, shipped frozen, and then laid out to rise and baked in these really big ovens. I was seriously disappointed. I thought I'd be learning about different breads and donuts and cakes. I thought I'd be mixing stuff from scratch. Not a rotten chance. I learned how to pop a box open and throw some rolls on a baking sheet. Yay! Whatever. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Secondly, I learned to stick it out in this ridiculous waiting game. Apparently, the accounting office was left in this horrible situation with not enough people (two to be exact), and not enough hours to do what we do (an eight hour shift, as opposed to two and a half). So, Sam made her triumphant reappearance. Technically, I'm still officially a bakery associate until my over-worked assistant manager can fit in the official interview and make me an official accounting associate. Officially. I wonder if I'll get a raise. Hmmm...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What will happen next? I don't know what the future holds for this young plucky girl with a tentative hold on sanity, but I'm sure that the universe has a few tricks up its sleeve, and all will resolve itself in due course. But since I don't know what my employment future was going to bring, I knew I had to make some serious decisions about my horrid (and by horrid, I mean catastrophic) personal finances. Which leads me to the morning I found myself at the office of my bankruptcy attorney.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I remember going to Mapquest for the directions, but even just looking at them on the page, I found myself groaning. Drive through questionable neighborhood? Check.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Arriving a hair early, I found a taped note on the door to ring the bell. Strangely unprofessional setting? Check.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My attorney answered the door, and led me through the building to his office. The building itself was questionable in age, and had obviously been a house in a previous life, much like other buildings lining the street it sat on. The carpet (circa 1967) reeked of mold and cigarettes and the walls were paper-thin, worrying me that maybe everyone in the world was going to hear my business loud and clear. Potentially deadly or deadly embarrassing situation? Check and check?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Don't get me wrong. I knew I was doing the right thing, but in my head, I kept thinking, "Oh my God, what the hell am I doing here?"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Happily, my attorney was reassuring, and professional, and completely non-judgmental (at least not to my face, which is good enough). So the ball is rolling. I have my hearing with my creditors on the ninth, and after that, I have to wait sixty days for objections and then I'm done. That's not to say there won't be problems. But I need something of a clean slate. A do-over. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, as the relief of it all hasn't exactly arrived yet, I'm feeling that the in-between stage of everything in my life at the moment has made some room for creativity, the kind I haven't experienced in a long time. And so, the idea that I will move on and become the person I really want to be is on the horizon, in view even. I'm just not there yet. But at least there is a promise of it.</div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-67171724312040777372010-02-22T21:07:00.003-06:002010-02-22T21:16:04.200-06:00Horror Show<div style="text-align: justify;">So, I have to admit that I hadn't been on a scale for a while. A long while. And there's a reason why. If I don't know what that unholiest of numbers is, then I don't have to deal with it. I didn't deal with it for a really long time. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And now I know.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It taunted me. I think I looked at my toes longer than I should have instead of grasping what it was the scale was telling me. Really? That much? That can't be right. But it is right. It is. And now I have to deal with it. Damn it!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'm scrambling. The mother and I have decided on a weight loss challenge. She has more to lose, so giving her a few days head start didn't seem so bad. But now I'm scrambling. Good God! How did I let this happen? Ugh.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, that's done. Oh well. Guess all that planning will go to good use. Let's commence with the life-changing veganism. (Somewhere, a nutrition fairy just got her wings.)</div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-90138458073038034372010-02-18T19:02:00.003-06:002010-02-18T19:25:44.263-06:00Cinema Therapy, volume 13<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/S33oXTKOT6I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/5H_SYXYLG48/s1600-h/penelope.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/S33oXTKOT6I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/5H_SYXYLG48/s320/penelope.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439759411911217058" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">So, some might think of this movie as a little cheesy or silly, but you have to admit that the sweet qualities of this modern fairy tale are wholly worthwhile and easily suck you in.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Penelope</i> is the story of a young woman trapped by a family curse that gave her a pig nose. Her overbearing mother (Catherine O'Hara) is determined to find her daughter a mate despite the curse, to comical results. Edward Vanderman, a snobby self-absorbed nobleman and a contender for Penelope's heart makes an ass of himself by claiming that Penelope is a monster. He convinces a paparazzi-like Lemon (played by the always awesome Peter Dinklage) to find a spy to put in Penelope's midst. Unfortunately that can only be someone of noble birth (a blue-blood). Enter Max (played by James McAvoy). And that's where it gets complicated.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps not an Oscar-worthy film, but entertaining and heart-warming just the same. And you will come to love the characters with all their eccentricities and flaws. </div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-74405083878955023852010-01-28T04:24:00.003-06:002010-01-28T04:50:45.362-06:00Cinema Therapy, volume 12<div style="text-align: justify;">So, despite it being one of the biggest cash-ins on someone's personal history in recent box offices, this is probably one of the best films in theaters right now. After having seen it without the tissue that I should have brought along, I can safely say that I loved this movie.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Blind Side</span> is one of those feel-good flicks that you might honestly say that you could watch a few more times afterwards, and walk out of the theater with the quick step that Sandra Bullock uses to channel her real-life tough-girl muse, Leigh Anne Touhy.<br /><br />The story of a young man who has managed to be left by the wayside through the neglect of a drug-addicted mother and a system that is often overworked, under-resourced, and possibly mis-managed is also the story of his triumph over the overwhelming odds against him to become educated and financially backed at a top college and becomes a top 2009 draft pick for the NFL. Sadly, Michael Oher's story could just as easily have been the same as countless others who come from the same backgrounds, if not the same geographical location. And while we celebrate his wonderful story and the family that made it possible, we also must acknowledge that there are millions of Michael Ohers out there, whose access to all the wonderful possibilities are hindered by the failings of others, as the film points out at the end.<br /><br />Despite all of that, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Blind Side</span> is as entertaining as it is inspiring. And I hope that if you haven't seen it yet, you will.<br /><br />In case you haven't been exposed to it yet, check out the trailer:<br /><br /><br /></div><object height="296" width="512"><param name="movie" value="http://www.hulu.com/embed/HUwcXp7_zTynhFEgqsclUw"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.hulu.com/embed/HUwcXp7_zTynhFEgqsclUw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="296" width="512"></embed></object>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-40724867934286105152010-01-12T09:36:00.000-06:002010-01-12T09:36:00.214-06:00Well slap my ass and... oh, you already did that?<div style="text-align: justify;">Last night afforded me the opportunity to make an ass of myself with my co-worker and partner-in-crime, Shelly (not my uncle's wife/aunt - there's more than one, you know). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While walking out of the office, she managed to stop suddenly, and I (not looking mind you) kind of ran into her. Well, not exactly. Actually it was my hand. And it smacked her really good right in the ass. This lead to a series of renditions of "I can't believe I slapped your ass" all night, followed by laughing. To be fair, it was the side of my hand, so it was more of a smack than a slap, but I don't think the difference matters all that much. It happened. So at least it was an interesting start to the uneventful night.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have to admit that I'm pretty lucky to work with her and Krissy (day accounting office associate extraordinaire). They made coming back to that miserable excuse for a job a lot more bearable. Or at least ended the dread. (Please excuse the comments here. My job is tedious and sometimes extremely boring, but by no means a completely horrible job. If anything, I'm lucky to have it all things considered. If only it weren't at Wal-mart...)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What is up with the people who flock to the break room during our mandatory fifteens? They are so loud. I wonder if they feel the need to stretch their vocal chords to keep from passing out. Entirely possible. However, this makes it damn near impossible to enjoy reading my book on break. What the hell?! It could be worse: I could be one of those poor schmucks who are chained to their smoking habits and have to congregate outside to get their deadly, yet calming cigarette fix. It's f-ing cold out there folks. I'd rather not.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">By the way, bad news my friends. It seems I will not have access to my niece until March. So, I'm afraid I will be a little melancholy. In all honesty, the road trips to MN were taking their toll on my days off. But I miss her all the same.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have some truly cute videos of her. On one of them, she's looking at a bug and says, "Ta-da! I peeking!" Too precious.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In other unrelated news, I am on the brink of veganism. Sadly, I will say "adios" to cheese, ice cream, omelettes, and other tasty pieces of heaven that animal products can create. The cancer and heart disease in my family was the ultimate kicker. It's a rampant problem - rampant! And weight issues aside (and they are profound by themselves), this is the overriding factor. Plus, after reading The Kind Life, I don't think I can justify what eating these things does to the Earth. If you don't think that you're casting a vote with every grocery purchase, think again. The processed foods and refined sugars will be making an exit as well. There may be occasional visits on this variety show, but they will be by no means regular cast members.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have to dig out my treadmill too. It's become the de facto resting spot for all the Christmas wrapping paper of late. I need to knock that shit out. I never let it happen before. This last year has been really bad with the treadmill abuse. Oh well. It's in there somewhere.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Alright. So, that's the update for now. Sam out.</div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-37944900304692731092010-01-11T19:31:00.004-06:002010-01-11T20:06:48.473-06:00The Road to 50 Books.<div style="text-align: justify;">I tried and tried not to come up with a New Year's Resolution. And well, I kind of blew it. I decided to do a challenge. Not a resolution per se. But still, it gives me a goal to reach for in a very real and calculable way. I like that it's a reading goal. I haven't done that since the third grade. Maybe the fourth. Not quite sure. I may have to confer with some childhood friends for a final verdict on that.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, it's my hope that I can read 50 books in 2010. It's an ambitious goal, but originally, I thought of doing 100 books. That was too ambitious. I scaled it back and presto! we've got a decent goal.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Join the challenge and post it on your blogs or Facebook pages. It's a good way to kick off the new year - with knowledge. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So far, I'm on book #2.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I will give occasional updates of my list. Plus, I'll keep the sidebar updated. Keep checking back.</div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-10241108778552853842010-01-07T14:18:00.003-06:002010-01-07T14:36:51.905-06:00Cinema Therapy, volume 11<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/S0ZFg6G8RfI/AAAAAAAAAQg/sIyt5_bOppY/s1600-h/stardust.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/S0ZFg6G8RfI/AAAAAAAAAQg/sIyt5_bOppY/s320/stardust.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424099232870843890" border="0" /></a>So, I recently became acquainted with this volume's film of choice. With the overall sense that it might be a frivolous waste of time, I decided to view it, and then decided that I really liked (if not bordering on loved) it.<br /><br />Stardust has the same running themes of love and the pursuit of power, beauty, and eternal youth as many other movies of the fantasy genre. But it also craftily weaves these themes in a way that is not only entertaining, but heart-warming.<br /><br />Yes, it is a story of love conquering all, and a happy ending to boot, but it envisions a world where the whimsical still has equal footing with the blow-them-up flicks that tend to trample the cineplex to death.<br /><br />I have to admit, the characterizations are what got me. The banter between the lead characters of Tristan and Yvaine (Charlie Cox and Claire Danes respectively) are as cute as any current rom-com in the making, and the silly, yet clever character of Captain Shakespeare (masterfully and comically played by Robert De Niro) makes me want to spend some more time in this fantasy world.<br /><br />With the same qualities that hooked followers of The Princess Bride, Star Wars, and The Wizard of Oz, Stardust holds its on the screen. It may not have the critical acclaim or cult followings of the aforementioned films, but it's surely as feel-good a film as any.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-82026449745109454462010-01-01T08:15:00.001-06:002010-01-01T08:15:00.531-06:00I joined Facebook - I asked for it.<div style="text-align: justify;">So, a personal friend has de-friended me on Facebook. By "personal friend", I mean someone who I work with I had considered my friend. Even after I quit the store, we did stuff together, and talked on the phone, and all the things that people do when they are actual friends.<br /><br />For whatever reason, Sadie has given my ass the boot, and well, I'm not all that sad. This may have been a while coming. But there's more to this story than meets the eye.<br /><br />Sadie and I have had bouts of contention in the past. This has always, always been work-related. We always got on better when we didn't work together. I know she has a work ethic, she's just not displaying it right now, and it's caused me to comment on it. To her. When I heard she'd gotten a D-Day (Decision Day, where management decides if they're going to keep you or not), I wasn't all that surprised. The reason I'd initially heard about was stupid, but that's besides the point. And it made me think that they were just coming up with a reason to get rid of her. I'm not the only one who's had issue with her before. If I'd commented on this to someone (at least someone who can't keep his/her mouth shut), I don't recall. So, whatever her deal, Sadie ended our Facebook friendship.<br /><br />Here's the sad part: I wouldn't have even noticed if it weren't for the fact that I use her as an employee on Restaurant City. Lately, it's the only reason I bother to log on to FB. I know the draw of Facebook. I've even requested people to join it. But lately, I have no desire to do much on there, except gain levels on Restaurant City. Lame, I know. Maybe I've outgrown it. <br /><br />If Sadie had a problem with me, she could've called. She could've talked to me at work. Nope, just easier to give the ol' FB boot.<br /><br />Somehow, I'm okay with this. Whatever.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-3667913819388751752009-12-31T11:55:00.001-06:002009-12-31T11:55:00.365-06:00Saying Goodbye.<div style="text-align: justify;">This year has been lucrative for funeral homes. Between the celebrities and my own family members, I have to say that the morticians got dough for the holidays.<br /><br />I realized the other day that I have lost two uncles, a cousin, and an aunt this year. My aunt Trish got in just under the gun by passing away on December 21st. It was highly unexpected. I fully believed that she would beat her cancer. It never even occurred to me that she wouldn't. So when we got the call last Monday morning, I was shocked. It had spread everywhere. But the real cause of her death was complications due to the chemo.<br /><br />I have already decided that if I ever get cancer (which will not happen if I get my way) that I will forgo the chemo and find another route. I don't care what stage I'm at, how long the doctors give me, whatever. I can fight cancer another way. Chemo is not the only option, it's just usually the only option doctors will give (don't get me started on kick-backs - that's for another post).<br /><br />Anyhow, I've been pretty down about Trish's passing. She's leaving a twelve-year-old behind. All I want to do is put my arms around Caity and tell her it will be okay, but I can't make the trip to NY now (it seems no one can). She seems to be doing alright. Trish had probably prepared her ahead of time. Very sad situation. But there it is. My dad's only sibling is gone now too. Now it's just us: me, Shannon, and Caitlyn. Oh, and now Lily.<br /><br />It's these deaths that seem to just keep coming that remind me of the life I really want to lead, and so far, haven't. It also makes me curious of what lies on the other side of that line, the one that separates us. I've commented before to people that it's almost cruel that human existence is split into two parts and that those parts have a very fixed wall between them. We can't know those things that lie beyond yet. And we cannot be with those who've already journeyed there. I know my time is coming, and I'm reminded that there will be others that I will lose before then, when those eternal truths are finally revealed to me.<br /><br />Until then, farewell Uncle Curt, Uncle Dick, Russell, and Aunt Trish.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-75059821072141813372009-12-30T12:15:00.003-06:002009-12-30T13:15:06.203-06:00Cinema Therapy, volume 10<div style="text-align: justify;">One of my best childhood memories is of watching <span style="font-style: italic;">The Goonies</span>. My mom likes to recount the story of the first time my sister and I saw it. She and a couple of her friends who also had kids (albeit a little older than Shannon and me) took us to the theater. We kids sat in the front (as if we were somehow cool because we were in the front of the theater despite the fact that our moms were in the rear, watching over us). At some point, my four year old sister got scared. Because of the lights along the main aisles, my mom could make out some short chubby legs running from the front to the back, and nearly diving into her lap. Poor Shannon.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/Szummt_QWhI/AAAAAAAAAQY/fORpiefInT8/s1600-h/goonies.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 274px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/Szummt_QWhI/AAAAAAAAAQY/fORpiefInT8/s320/goonies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421109760580672018" border="0" /></a>Since then, it has become a staple in my film diet. Yes, it is action/adventure rather than rom-com or amazingly inspirational true story. But it's fun and has a happy ending. And that's good enough to make the list. Not to mention a Cindy Lauper-infused soundtrack. I don't think it gets more 80's than that.<br /><br />Perhaps the best part of this movie is that it mainly involves a group of friends who work together for the benefit of saving their families' homes. The camaraderie, along with sophomoric wit and slapstick humor, is a huge draw for anyone who loves comedies.<br /><br />I love <span style="font-style: italic;">The Goonies</span> (along with millions of other people who've adopted the same sort of cult following), and it's a great one to watch on a winter afternoon such as this. Enjoy!<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-10675676101133684492009-12-18T10:42:00.000-06:002009-12-18T10:42:00.205-06:00Merry Christmas! (A little early)Hi everyone. I know that Christmas is a week away, but I just wanted to mention something.<br /><br />I've been familiar with Charity: Water for a short time now, but the work they are doing astounds me. They're working tirelessly to bring clean, safe water to people in developing countries. Approximately 1 in 6 people living on this planet doesn't have adequate water to drink much less for hygiene and sanitation. What's sad is that it only takes $20 to provide a person in these third world locations with 20 years of clean water.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.charitywater.org/whywater"><img src="http://www.charitywater.org/media/banners/390x70_glasses.jpg" border="0" height="72" width="392" /></a><br />I don't often urge people to spend money or make donations, but if you can spare even a few dollars, every cent goes toward these projects. And even if you don't contribute to Charity: Water, I hope you will learn about them and pass on this information to others.<br /><br />If Charity: Water isn't your calling, consider the Salvation Army. You can even start your own online red bucket for your website or blog. How cool is that? Or you can donate to my online red bucket. (<a href="http://www.salvationarmyusa.org/">Click here to start your own.</a>)<br /><br /><div>Banner Ad for Red Kettle</div><div><a href="https://secure.salvationarmyusa.org/site/Donation2?df_id=1868&FR_ID=1270&PROXY_ID=1365961&PROXY_TYPE=20&outreachid=A-h_lb7L8fyqVB4L0zDWhonHLyZHIozp"><img alt="Personal fundraising widget for 2009 Red Kettle campaign" title="Personal fundraising widget for 2009 Red Kettle campaign" src="http://give.salvationarmyusa.org/images/content/pagebuilder/11641.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-6511133964755676042009-12-17T14:14:00.005-06:002009-12-17T14:14:00.171-06:00Things I should've learned by now (A Year in Review).<div style="text-align: justify;">So, I've decided to make a list of how things have and haven't turned out this year. Funny, another passed, and I still haven't got my shit together. Hmmm...<br /><br />Anyhow, I think it worthy of reflection, if only to note where I've been stupid, and where I've come a little closer to a self-actualized human being (baby-steps and some crawling).<br /><br />1. I am occasionally still afraid of the dark. Case in point: I scared the shit out of myself by going to <span style="font-style: italic;">Paranormal Activity</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Fourth Kind</span> in the same day. I'm regretting having seen the former and I think that made me appreciate less the latter. This led to a few nights of sleeping with the lights on. Silly, yes. Wise, absolutely. My mind goes all kinds of crazy and this is just one of those times when my own sanity is more important than saving the planet. Does this make me a hypocrite. A little.<br /><br />2. I am capable of getting over personal shame. Despite my desperate desire not to go back to working for Hell-Mart and having to explain my explosive failure, I did. A little humble pie, anyone? But you know what? It was worth it if it means that I am on my way back to semi-normal (because who are we kidding - I never truly was normal). And if I was able to get over this shame, maybe there are others that can finally be resolved as well.<br /><br />3. It isn't always bad to be ghetto-fabulous! I have managed to prove that I can be resourceful despite a lack of resources. I put together a bookshelf with out the use of a screwdriver or a hammer. Yay me! Who said that the handles on butter knives only have one purpose?<br /><br />4. My sister is my best friend in the whole wide world. Mom's a close second. I needed to rely on some people who were completely trust-worthy, and none proved more so than Shannon this year. She has watched me struggling for the last few years and has only offered support and love (through her charming wit and sometimes sarcastic tones accompanied by advice). She may live three-hundred miles away, but she might as well have been next door.<br /><br />5. It's okay to shave my legs every once in a while. After a long bout of refusing to shave, the itch began to drive me way too crazy to describe. I don't know how men do it. The cuffs of my socks were not my friends during this time. Lesson learned.<br /><br />6. I watch way, way, way too much television. Here is the current list of shows I follow: How I Met Your Mother, The Big Bang Theory, Heroes, House, NCIS, NCIS: LA, The Good Wife, The Forgotten, Criminal Minds, Glee, Fringe, Bones, Ugly Betty, Grey's Anatomy, and Medium. Throw in a little House Hunters, Ghost Hunters, Stargate Universe, and Masterpiece Theatre, and you've got a recipe for couch-potato-ness (term officially coined). Now, I know that most of these are watched via an over-diligent DVR, but this is ridiculous and I am considering abstaining from TV for a while to cut the addiction. There are better things to do than spend all day on my days off catching up. Like reading, or getting my hair cut (more on that next), or catching up with friends. I remember a time when I often said, "I don't watch TV." Of course, this is when I worked two jobs (one of which covered second shift), and I didn't have DISH, much less a DVR. I think I'd like to go back to the freedom that comes with saying that.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">7. My mother needs to get over my hair. She keeps telling me that my hair-style is out of style (I beg to differ - I tend to choose the styles that are relatively timeless, but whatever). Still, I have unresolved trust issues with my hair. Until I find the perfect stylist and can actually afford him or her, I will just have to decide to live through the pain of the possible catastrophe that might occur. My hair hasn't been cut since the beginning of March. A good four inches needs to be chopped at the least. I used to let it get super long. Not so much any more - it's just too big a hassle, and I'm getting too old. Plus, the last time I got it cut, I found that it was possibly the least emotional I've been about my hair. So maybe this is becoming less an attachment to my hair thing and more a Sam's-too-lazy-to-get-her-hair-cut thing.<br /><br />8. My health needs to take priority. I am on the second cold in as many months and I am not pleased. This tells me that I'm out of balance (like I haven't been for the past three years [insert sarcastic eyebrow raise here]). Under normal circumstances, I get sick maybe twice a year, if that. If you've noticed the book I just read on the right (The Kind Diet), then you know that I'm working towards a plan for a lifestyle change. I haven't eaten meat in almost ten years, but that's only part of the problem. I need to consider how my body is responding to processed foods, dairy, and eggs. Plus, as previously posted, I've had an ongoing war with my weight for a while. Besides the phlegm-y disposition, and overall respiratory issues, my joints and back have ached a lot more (and I'm not even that huge). There has been a rising occurrence of stomach issues. Fatigue has been a major culprit in my overall well-being as well, even before the third shift made its appearance. I always do better when I'm eating mainly fruit and vegetables (in their unprocessed, whole or juiced forms). So, what I'm waiting for is beyond me. But I know that if I finally make the official switch to veganism, there won't be any turning back. It just wouldn't be worth it. I want to be healthy until the day I die and that doesn't have to be unreasonable a statement.<br /><br />9. I can take each day at a time. If anything, being a third-shifter has taught me that. Yes, the personal sleep schedule is all out of whack, but it forces me to do things more in moderation than anything. If it doesn't fit into my waking hours for that day, then it will have to wait until the next day. And that's okay. Some people might rush to get things done and either wear themselves out or do a completely shabby job. It just doesn't have to be that way.<br /><br />10. I'm getting to the age where I don't feel the need to sweat so much of the small stuff. So, things didn't work out perfectly. That's okay. I find that I will live a much better life if I am okay with all possible outcomes, even the less than stellar ones. I've always been one of those people who would fret and worry. But now, not so much. And that's awesome.<br /><br />11. So the planned fortune that the business was supposed to bring didn't happen. So much for basing my success on the outcomes of others in that line of work. Oh well. If it wasn't meant to be, then it's just a matter of me getting over it. It would've been nice to be free of the burden that comes with being poor. I keep trying to remember that these periods come and go, and eventually the freedom, that comes with a good income, will arrive when it's supposed to. Millionaire I am not. [Insert sigh here.]<br /><br />12. I actually found a wine that I like (two to be exact). Both are from <a href="http://cedarcreekwinery.com/">Cedar Creek Winery</a>. Their Settlement Gold and Cranberry Blush are awesome. I got oh-so-lost on my way back from Cedarburg the day I decided to venture up there. I thought maybe I'd get some Christmas shopping done up there and then all I came back with was wine. I don't do well with dry wine. I like sweet. And I made a total ass of myself tasting them at the winery, acting like I knew what to look for. I don't. Wine expert I am not. What's funny about that trip is that I found historic downtown Cedarburg really easily, but when it came time to come home, I got completely turned around and ended up even farther north in Saukville. Not too big a deal. Strange that it's only fun to get lost when that is your intention. Otherwise, it's just a little scary.<br /><br />13. I finally, finally get that I am responsible for my own happiness. It was drilled into me as a kid, but now I finally feel like that is how I can live. I've been responsible for the crappy existence that I have thus far created. And if the last three years have taught me anything, it's that if I am capable of utter misery, then I am also capable of an absolutely fantastic life. And that's exactly what I intend from now on. If I want to see change, then it has to start with me.<br /><br />14. I realized what it is that I really want to do with my life. And no more distractions. No more excuses. If I really want something to happen, I have to make it happen. The business was just something that clouded my judgment and kept me from the things I really wanted to do, or thought I couldn't do. Not anymore. I think I'd rather try and fail at something I actually love and not something that only frustrates, annoys, disheartens, and ultimately I hate to do. Besides, when you do what you love, it's not work. It only reinforces joy.<br /><br />So, that's it. I'm not saying there won't be amendments and additions to the list. But for now, this is pretty good. I won't bore you with the details of things that I plan to change about myself, not as a resolution, but something bigger and better. Besides, I'm sure the details of my life will emerge here over the course of the next year.<br /><br />Okay New Year, bring it on! Bring. It. On.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-76228026832916665562009-12-16T09:49:00.003-06:002009-12-16T10:15:47.769-06:00Cinema Therapy, volume 9<div style="text-align: justify;">Okay, okay. I get it. It's been a while and if some of you have been wondering what happened to Cinema Therapy, don't be alarmed at the length of time it took me to post one. No, I haven't become one of those jags who doesn't believe in feel-good movies being quality viewing. No, I haven't become overly depressed with the world and want to shut out all that is happy and good. I simply have found myself overwhelmed with the schedule lately and Wednesdays come and go, with me remembering by Friday night, and by then thinking, "Oh, I'll do it next week." And then, it happens again. Oh well. I'll try to get better.<br /><br />So, here it is, volume 9. And my pick for this week isn't just a feel-good drama. It's a great expression of family dysfunction that somehow shows how cohesive the group really is, and how they are better together than apart. Plus, Susan Sarandon makes me want to have all boys in this pic.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/SykEDEPocOI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/hirxzO1mqdM/s1600-h/safepassage.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 202px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/SykEDEPocOI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/hirxzO1mqdM/s320/safepassage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415864477615157474" border="0" /></a><br />Say "hello" to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Safe-Passage-Susan-Sarandon/dp/B0001DCYTG/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1260979088&sr=8-4"><span style="font-style: italic;">Safe Passage</span></a>. Even though this film was made in the 90's, it still resonates, especially given the international political circumstances this country finds itself. The story revolves around the Singer family, made up of Mom and Dad, Mag and Patrick, and their seven sons. Though Mag and Patrick are currently estranged, they come together with the rest of their family when one of the boys, Percival, is feared dead after a bomb has been detonated at a military barracks in the Sinai desert where he was stationed. How this film is brilliant is that it is filmed entirely from the perspective of the family awaiting news of Percy and through Mag's memories of her children. You feel that powerless sense of not knowing what has happened and the building anxiety and anticipation one experiences in situations such as these. So, how does this make it a feel-good movie? The family antics drive enough laughter through their fears, as well as a climactic ending that may be predictable, but still worthwhile. <br /><br />Including an always brilliant Ms. Sarandon, there's also great performances by Sam Shepard, Nick Stahl, Robert Sean Leonard (of "House, M.D." fame), Marcia Gay Harden, and Sean Astin.<br /><br />Despite the neuroses of most of the family members, I always find myself desiring my own place in the Singer household. It might even remind you of your own family, with it's sarcasm, wit, drama, and above all, love.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-36590719957784978742009-11-22T20:34:00.004-06:002009-11-22T20:49:42.136-06:00The past haunts.<div style="text-align: justify;">Once again, I find myself at one of those junctures where I must decide to revisit some old wound from childhood or let it fall away as if it never existed.<br /><br />While the incident in question that has raised my curiosity and reservations is no serious thing for many, it is for me only that I am not willing to relive drama that I hoped was gone forever. Not the people necessarily, mind you. But I fear that welcoming someone from my past will cause an undue emotional distress in the long term.<br /><br />I am speaking of my stepsister, who I will heretofore refer to as H. <br /><br />Imagine my surprise to receive word from her electronically this evening. I have to admit that there were times when I wondered what happened, where she went, if she moved on from the ultimately abusive childhood she endured to become a well-rounded individual, or if her life was merely a video looping over and over those things most people would gladly forget. Are these things I really want to know, or is this one of those things best left by the wayside...<br /><br />Without being a giant bitch?<br /><br />I spoke briefly to my real sister about this situation, and she is more inclined to leave it alone. Why? Because she was just as hurt by H's disappearance, and because she holds these things longer than I do. We rarely hold a conversation about my dad. And I think this might have more to do with the fact that talking about him inevitably leads to talking about the stepmonster. She infiltrates our memories like a demon, overwhelming and horrific. And we did not even experience the worst of that woman's wrath. So, the thought of introducing one of the few bright sides of those childhood experiences into our adult and current lives is less than appealing.<br /><br />Still, if the past haunts, so does curiosity. <br /><br />Stay tuned...<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-27531212325088662272009-11-09T15:19:00.004-06:002009-11-09T15:45:02.334-06:00She's alive! (Only just.)<div style="text-align: justify;">Well, as you might imagine, I fell off the planet - again. I was sailing out to sea, and what do you know, the edge came faster than expected. I was gonna jump ship and try to swim back, but I was like, "Screw it" and reclined as I headed into the abyss.<br /><br />Okay. It's not as dramatic as all that. I've just been a little busy and really tired.<br /><br />Went to the sister's a few weeks ago. Came home with the cold that she and the kid had been sporting for a few days. Then I tried working that week on only about three hours of sleep a day (you can imagine how fun that was). Then I met up with my sister in the Dells for some non-child-related fun (cheesy place, but what can you do? It was convenient.) And now she's in town with Lily with my uncle's wife until tomorrow. Oh, and to top it off, after finally shaking the cold, I got some stomach thing that I was sure was originally something I ate and turned into a raging (gotta go gotta go gotta go right now) stomach. My mom got it. My co-worker got it. It's not something I ate.<br /><br />On another note, I reconnected with one of my dearest friends - Joe. He is one of the highlights of the last decade. If there is a God, and he/she/it is looking out for me, then Joe was definitely a gift. After three years of dating, I finally met his boyfriend (an A+ in my book). I am no longer that horrible friend that Joe mentions in passing and the boyfriend assumes he made me up because I am conveniently unavailable. I am sure that there will be more visits to Madison to visit the two soon. In the meantime, it's good to know that a good time reminiscing was had (and at a needed time). It's always good to know that my twenties weren't a complete waste.<br /><br />There was a little drama involved after I got my first pay check from the store and found out that they screwed up with my pay rate only to find out they put me in under the wrong job code. I had to wait three more pay checks before it was fixed and now I have to go deal with my incompetent personnel manager who tried to tell me that I might be the only person on third shift not to get a third shift differential in order to get my retro pay. That should be fun. I guess I could have done it this morning, but it takes energy to deal with complete morons. And I didn't have any left.<br /><br />I'm in the process of figuring out a trip in the spring with my cousin and maybe a bigger one in the fall. Where to go? Where to go? There's such a long list of places I've been meaning to go, and narrowing done a destination won't be easy. But it should be fun.<br /><br />Anyway, I'm back. Not normal. But I never was anyway.<br /><br />Oh, <a href="http://www.walletpop.com/blog/2009/11/05/wal-marts-sick-leave-policy-risks-spreading-swine-flu/?icid=main%7Cnetscape%7Cdl3%7Clink4%7Chttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.walletpop.com%2Fblog%2F2009%2F11%2F05%2Fwal-marts-sick-leave-policy-risks-spreading-swine-flu%2F">check out this lovely article</a>. I've known about this for years. I am one of those people who will show up to work sick just because those days add up, and I need my pay check.<br /><br />My sister's been bothering me today to go run a brick through my hair and pretend to be alive when I'm really tired. Sorry Shannon. Spending the day at thrift stores - not my idea of a great time on three hours sleep.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-62575409710356395852009-10-15T15:41:00.003-05:002009-10-15T16:04:17.902-05:00Why can't they all be bastards?<div style="text-align: justify;">So, dear readers, I learned something on my added shift last night. Normally, I don't work on Wednesday nights, but I was called in to cover for my co-worker, so in I went despite a terrible lack of sleep. I knew about this ahead of time, but for some reason, my body was fighting with the schedule I wanted to keep. Screw it. What can you do? It happens. Thank God for Starbucks.<br /><br />Anyway, I should preface what I'm about to say with a little back-story, to give it context.<br /><br />There was a guy I knew from the store for years. We were always friendly, and he was such a nice guy (a little younger than me - but cute and funny and we had a lot in common despite having hugely different backgrounds). I will call him EC for privacy reasons. Anyway, there was a time when we might have hooked up. I was still incredibly messed up from a previous break-up (i.e. mega-mind-games), so this probably wasn't meant to be. After a short while, even though he was the first to express interest, he began stringing me along. I didn't see the signs at first. But eventually, it became all too apparent (i.e. he was seeing someone else that we worked with - the DICK!). <br /><br />When I decided to go back to working at the store, I wondered if I would have the misfortune of running into him from time to time. Being on third shift, I figured this unlikely, but one never knows. It wasn't until after I applied that I heard from friends that he was newly appointed to a position over the front end (including the accounting office - gulp). <br /><br />I will admit, I was not digging this. Like Miranda from <span style="font-style: italic;">Sex and the City</span>, once it's over, I feel they need to not exist. <br /><br />The day of orientation, I did a minor freak-out with a very obvious "I'm avoiding you" move. And then, he ended up doing the stupid safety-talk in the orientation. This is my luck. Thankfully, it was just fine. He was perfectly nice, like he usually was, and it was over relatively painlessly. I thought that maybe that would be the end of that. I'd never see him again. Amen. Whew.<br /><br />I hadn't seen him since the orientation (over a month ago now) until last night, when he ended up closing as a CSM (Customer Service Manager for all you non-Wal-mart people). Just my luck, it was the day that I picked up to cover for my friend. That's just wonderful, right?<br /><br />This was the first time he'd closed the front end, so he needed a little help, but was over-all okay. Only a couple times did he ask questions. And he was friendly and nice. Which is completely wrong in my book. <br /><br />A single incident needs to be amplified for all time. He was a bastard once, so that is what he is supposed to be for life, right? This would justify my opinion of him. But of course, he has to be the complete opposite of this. Just to make me feel bad for thinking ill of him. Damn you EC! Why can't you make this easy?<br /><br />But now, given how things weren't completely awkward, it might be possible to be friends. Can it be? I'm getting too old to hold grudges. Maybe I am evolving.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-74007932312641192112009-10-14T16:04:00.005-05:002009-10-14T16:14:13.720-05:00Cinema Therapy, volume 8<div style="text-align: justify;">I think it's safe to say that this is one of my very favorite movies. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/StY-sQe1kMI/AAAAAAAAAP4/JGpIsKsKzEE/s1600-h/amelie.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 238px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/StY-sQe1kMI/AAAAAAAAAP4/JGpIsKsKzEE/s320/amelie.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392566533882220738" border="0" /></a>The heroine of this quirky tale makes you fall in love with her and her world from the beginning sequence. She's lovely, and she has no idea how much.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Amelie-Audrey-Tautou/dp/B0000640VO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1255554327&sr=8-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">Amelie </span></a>is one of those films that you love for a variety of reasons. The use of color and lighting is extraordinary in and of itself. But then you factor in the writing (which is superb), the characterizations (which are absolutely amazing), and the on-screen chemistry of all the actors, not to mention the direction, and you have a truly great film.<br /><br />Even if you're not a fan of foreign films because of the subtitles, I recommend this movie. You quickly overlook what might otherwise annoy you for the simple fact that it is just so engrossing.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-20500550852193383472009-10-07T06:17:00.003-05:002009-10-07T06:51:06.704-05:00On age...<div style="text-align: justify;">I've been saying for a really long time that I'll probably live to be 140. Chalk it up to the lack of smoking, partying, having wild sex with strangers, just a little drinking, and being a relative hermit for the last three years, but I think it might actually happen. This is wishful thinking of course, but it keeps me thinking that there's plenty of time yet. No rush to actually get back to dating, get married, have kids, actually attempt some kind of career, still time to get to Paris and Buenos Aires, and to clean out my bedroom closet.<br /><br />We live in a funny time (not funny ha-ha, funny strange) when it comes to age. I still get carded whenever I bother ordering anything stronger than a coffee. Some youngin's at my work orientation thought I was about twenty (yes!) even though there's increasing fine lines around my eyes that I'm growing a little paranoid about. My younger sister (by only eighteen months, but still younger) often passes for older than me. And I have always, always thought my mother looks about ten to fifteen years younger than she really is.<br /><br />Someone my mom works with just turned thirty-eight. At her birthday dinner, the waitress guessed she was twenty-nine. The co-worker took it. Some time later (I'm guessing days by the story I was told), she was with her young son at Burger King where the woman (not kid) behind the counter told the little boy to have a nice day with his Grandma. She was irked and told her that the boy was actually her son.<br /><br />My response to this is that we live in the age of Botox and Olay Regenerist. No one knows what 20, 40, or 80 is supposed to look like anymore. We make guesses and try to undercut what we suspect might be the actual age to make the recipient of the compliment feel good. But then there are those who look remarkably younger than their age, to the point of wonder. Is it lifestyle? Is it genes? Is it that great dermatologist you see ads in your mail for? Who knows anymore. Perhaps we should just tell each other "Hey, you look good" and leave the age thing alone. Our society dictates that our supposed youth dictates so much of our self-esteem and, in a lot of cases, our social standing. In ages past, it was the elders that were revered. What happened to that? It's nice to listen to people with wisdom talk about things they actually know about. How refreshing. Wisdom? Forget youth and beauty. That's my aim in life. (Okay, I'm really aiming for it all, but I figured I'd say that to make myself sound evolved.)<br /><br />I'm only thirty now. What does 50, 70, 90 look like? It's not <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">that </span>far away you know. But as visually oriented as I am, I'm a bit more concerned with how I will feel. Will I be lucid at an old age, or should I be concerned about the amount of aluminum canned soda I've consumed? How about the fat "experiment"? How will that affect my health and mental state? It's nice to look good too, but there are more concerns than that.<br /><br />Age - just a number? I don't think so. Apparently, it's part of a greater symbol of something else.<br /><br />Want to live to be 140? <a href="http://www.alkalizeforhealth.net/longevity.htm">Check out this site I just found</a>. Interesting, but true?<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-63128728658766858992009-10-04T09:11:00.004-05:002009-10-04T09:24:22.871-05:00I almost pooped my pants!<div style="text-align: justify;">And I'm not kidding. <br /><br />The night before last, on my way home for lunch, I suddenly really needed to go. Why does it choose the worst time? Why?! Is it on a timer that says, "Oh, Sam's in the car now. Let's move bowels and see how freaked out she gets."? Really? Is this something that comes with age. I hit the big 3-0, so now I get horrific bodily urges at the worst possible moment?<br /><br />And to make matters worse, I almost hit a bunny as I was speeding through the neighborhood, trying to get home. A freakin' bunny! Funny how it could've been a squirrel or a raccoon or a cow, and I wouldn't have cared. But a freakin' bunny? I can't hit a bunny and streak its cute little furry body all over the street! I might as well have shot Santa Claus!<br /><br />When I was a kid, I was in the car with my uncle and he accidentally ran over some baby ducks. It wasn't his fault. They were just past the top of a hill and he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried. Thankfully, he didn't hit any with the wheels, so they just rolled and got a little fluffed up from the cars back-draft. I would've been devastated if any had been killed. I think it would've traumatized me to the point of therapy. <br /><br />Wait. I need therapy anyway. Scratch that. I would've needed additional therapy.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-39629571784039883962009-09-30T13:19:00.007-05:002009-09-30T14:03:22.292-05:00Cinema Therapy, volume 7<div style="text-align: justify;">This week is a <span style="font-style: italic;">twofer </span>because I'm in love with Matthew Macfadyen. Okay, not really, but he does have that quality that can lead a girl to sigh. It might be the voice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/SsOkZ0brPCI/AAAAAAAAAPw/78cuE-fV07s/s1600-h/pride.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 209px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/SsOkZ0brPCI/AAAAAAAAAPw/78cuE-fV07s/s320/pride.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387330342743653410" border="0" /></a>So, they may have made several dozen versions of the book, but I have to say that this is one of my particular favorite movie renditions of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pride-Prejudice-Keira-Knightley/dp/B000E1ZBGS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1254335634&sr=8-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">Pride and Prejudice</span></a>. It's not perfect. It's not strict to the novel, just like so many others aren't, though it does get close enough for my liking. And the actors do a brilliant job of bringing the written characterizations to life. Keira Knightley is brilliant, as always, and deserved the Oscar nod she received from this performance. (Yes, I'm a fan.)<br /><br />Besides, who doesn't love the story of boy meets girl, boy and girl don't get along, boy and girl start to get along, boy and girl have some conflicts, boy and girl realize that they love each other, boy and girl risk losing each other due to social convention, boy and girl get together and live happily ever after? No one, because it's classic. And I'm willing to risk using a run-on sentence to say it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/SsOkRzK2TOI/AAAAAAAAAPo/d6qC7jELkig/s1600-h/littledorrit.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 233px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01n34usHotM/SsOkRzK2TOI/AAAAAAAAAPo/d6qC7jELkig/s320/littledorrit.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387330204965686498" border="0" /></a>The other is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-Dorrit-Claire-Foy/dp/B001PU8N0I/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1254335665&sr=1-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">Little Dorrit</span></a>. I caught this on PBS this spring and LOVED it! Yes, a Dickens' classic al a miniseries, but worth watching to the end. It's one of those lovely tales that weaves the lives of its characters skillfully, with a quaint community feel mixed with intrigue and a happy ending or two.<br /><br />Watch out for "Golam" aka Andy Serkis as the all-too-creepy and manipulative Rigaud. Eddie Marsan has an endearing quality as Pancks and "Gavin and Stacey" co-creator and alum Ruth Jones as the silly Flora is delightful.<br /><br />In case you haven't noticed yet, I'm a fan of the historical drama (and an Anglophile). Please forgive me if they pop up from time to time. A little Austen here, Dickens there - it can't hurt.<br /><br />Matthew Macfadyen is Darcy in the first and Arthur Clennam in the second and probably one of the best parts of both films. He's kept mainly to mainstream British films and television, but if you don't know who he is, you may recognize his face from <span style="font-style: italic;">Frost/Nixon</span>. He has a nice range and that's definitely part of his appeal. Check out more of his work. I suggest the spy series "Spooks" (also known by American audiences as "MI-5") and <span style="font-style: italic;">Death at a Funeral</span>, a hilarious comedy (which is being re-made for American audiences - why can't they leave well-enough alone?).<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3694568200001895373.post-55316117736885656572009-09-29T17:07:00.003-05:002009-09-29T17:25:27.314-05:00In memory of Julia...<div style="text-align: justify;">It was four years ago this week. <br /><br />So strange that time moves on after someone has moved beyond the restrictions of the clock, into the ether, or whatever lies beyond, and leaves the rest of us behind to continue to seek answers that they have already acquired.<br /><br />My friend Julia died four years ago. It was in the height of a two year period that I went to eight funerals. Two were highly significant to me. The first was my grandfather's in November of 2004. The other was Julia's.<br /><br />She was only twenty years old. In that time, she'd experienced both wonderful and horrific things that shaped the person that she was. She was sweet, and kind, and generous. She loved her nephew and was on her way to finding a peace after a bout of contentiousness between herself and her parents. But a series of events pushed her over the edge, and a depression that few knew the depths of ate at her until she finally decided to take her life. <br /><br />And the ones who loved her that she left behind wondered in astonishment what each could have done to change what she did, to stop her, change her mind, or take away her inner pain. <br /><br />I think anyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one probably gains some measure of morbidity. After the loss of both my father and grandfather, Lord knows I certainly did. But when Julia died, it took the wind right out of me. There were no morbid thoughts. Merely regrets. What didn't I see? How could I not realize?<br /><br />With most funerals you fill your mind with thoughts of how sad you are, but that that person is in a better place. With the funeral of someone who has committed suicide, your mind is shocked and absorbed with the impossible to answer to the question, "Why?"<br /><br />I really miss her. I'd known her from a distance her whole life. But in the last couple years, we'd gotten to know each other. She was one of those people you could have a conversation about almost anything with. She had a depth to her that few people at her age have without the accompanying condescension and pretension. Julia was real. It was evident that she wanted to make the world a better place. If only she'd given herself a chance to really do that. She was so thoughtful and everyone that knew her was profoundly touched by her. So, maybe she did.<br /><br />Julia, wherever you are, you are truly missed.<br /></div>Samantha Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03528785817924165795noreply@blogger.com2