Tonight my Self-Pity button was pushed.

It goes back to earlier today when my I'M PISSED button got pushed. I had a dentists appointment with my new dentist here on Maui. I really like my old dentist back home in DC. She talked to you about your life and actually remembered details. When she found out that my old Principal worked a H. School... she immediately told him, "Oh, you work with Laurel." She was just that kind of a person. Very personal touch.

This new place? I felt like I was on a conveyor belt... that had stalled! I showed up 20 minutes earlier for my appointment to fill out any paper work etc. Then I sat down in the "non-lobby" in kid sized chairs. There were two kids in there with nowhere to play and nothing with which to play so they were bouncing around on the couch. The "lobby" was actually the main walkway so people were just whizzing past me. There wasn't even room for me to cross my legs. I didn't like the overall feel of the place. People were just rushing from one place to another... which wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been sitting there for AN HOUR!!! I wanted to get up and leave but my teeth on my entire right side hurt (top and bottom). I figured I'd stay get the exam and the cleaning and then switch dentists when it was time for my next exam and cleaning.

Eventually I saw the dentist. There are a bunch of them in this tooth factory. She was really nice and very efficient. She did her thing and then told me to go out and schedule an appointment for a cleaning. Serves me right for assuming. I thought it was SOP to get an exam and a cleaning at the same time. If I'd know it wasn't I would have left and made an appointment to see another dentists somewhere else. So I go to make said appointment and the receptionist tells me that I won't be able to make and appointment until Tuesday and the earliest appointment date will be in MARCH.

Did I just sit in kiddie seat for an hour and still not find out what's wrong with my teeth that didn't even get cleaned only to find out that they won't be getting cleaned until MARCH??? Good thing I have really good oral hygiene or I'd be more ticked off than I was. The people didn't seem to care that I'd been waiting for an hour. Didn't I realize what a privilege that was??? Not everybody gets to sit in those special chairs. I should have been honored.

Moving on to my ANXIETY button. I was going to start a YAHOO Messenger account so I could talk to Mr. Knock-Down-Drag-'Em-Out Gorgeous. I was SO nervous. I mean what could somebody THAT beautiful want with me??? Long story one sentence version: He had the personality of Mr. Potato Head and the IQ of an egg.

Moral: If looks are all that you look for, looks will be all that you get.

Continue on to my I'M IN PAIN button: my mouth still hurts and my reflux is kicking me in the chest. It hurts to swall past the marble that must surely be stuck in my throat.

Pissed + Anxiety + Pain = Self-Pity and since it's no surprise to anybody who has read this blog for any length of time I'm not even going to go into detail about the Self-Pity button. Let's just say that I hope things are different this time next year. Instead of letting the Self-Pity button get pissed I decided to blog and avoid being all weepy and poor me-sy.

I'm not in a self-pitying mood anymore. So Prince Charming was really a frog all along. Even a frog needs love. I, unfortunately (for him not for me), don't kiss frongs. So what that I had to wait to see the dentist and I'll have to wait until March to get my teeth cleaned. I HAVE all my teeth and my smile is quite nice. Anxiety? I'm not anxious anymore. It was all rather anti-climactic... so that button isn't an issue. Pain??? Well that still sucks, but I've proven time and time again that I actually have a pretty high pain threshhold. It'll pass. Self-Pity seemed imminent. Not anymore. I decided I didn't WANT to feel sorry for myself so I'm not. I don't feel like crying and dwelling on what happened or what I don't have. It's simply not worth it. Tonight, my buttons were being push... but I PUSHED BACK!

Ok... before I start this post I want to say that I am NO LONGER PISSED OFF. I still don't like bullies, never will... but I'm slowly learning that facing off with a bully can lead to personal harm. This is not bad but there has to be a better way of confronting a bully. I would like to also say at this time that while I successfully faced off with the bully in this second example I have yet to have learned the lesson. Maybe as I talk about it I'll have some big epiphany but I've thought about it from a bunch of different angles and I get nothin'.

The second "bully" crossed my path about 5 or 6 years ago. I lived in San Francisco at that point. Home of the Golden Gate Bridge, Golden Gate Park, Ocean Beach... and a whole bunch of other stuff that people from around the world pay to go and see. Personally? I've never understood the pull of the City Under the Fog. It's often cold, drizzly, and raining. Why not spend the money and go to... hmm... let me think... HAWAII??!!!

There is a really grungy underbelly to SF that most people don't know about but can't miss because it's smack dab in the middle of the city. Right in the middle of all the froo froo tourist hotels and even more froo froos-y shops. The Tenderloin. WHY anybody would name ANYTHING "The Tenderloin" is beyond me. It either sounds like a really good steak or a porn shop. Which are also ALL over the place in downtown San Fran. You can't walk down the main street (Market Steet) without passing an Adult ANYTHING. You name it, it's on Market Street.

Market Street also has a lot of homeless people. Everywhere. I used to support a few, like Terry. I used to take her to lunch when I saw her. I have a soft spot for homeless. One of my sisters used to be homeless but that's another story. I have no beefs with the homeless in the city even though many of them are scary and some of them are just plain crazy. My best friend has issues with the homeless because one of them stabbed her with a pair of scissors.In broad daylight he just attacked her. From what I remember he was a vet having funky flashbacks. My friend carries mace now.

SO... that's background for my next face off with a bully.

At the time I was working at a Christian school that was right off  Market Street. I had to take the BART (train) and then a bus to get to my school. Every morning I'd wait on the bus stop for the bus. The stop was more like a median in the middle of the road. A lot of people would squish themselves on it and for once I'm glad that I don't have a sense of smell. You'd see the same people pretty much every day. Older women going wherever older women go. Guys dressed like workmen carrying lunch boxes.. and kids going to school. I used to see this brother and sister duo. All dressed up in their cute Catholic school uniforms. I used to t hink that their uniforms were WAY nicer than ours. Red. I like red. They weren't very old... maybe 4th and 5th grade? No younger than third and definitely not older than 6th.

One day as we all waited for the bus a homeless guy came over to the median. He was really creepy looking. His clothes, per the street person norm, hadn't been washed. His hair was wild but not as wild as his eyes. They were yellow and bloodshot at the same time. He didn't have front teeth and he was mumbling/slurring words and making no sense. He was drooling and cleary drunk, mentally disturbed or both. He "asking" people something but nobody would respond to him. The older women looked away like most older women would have done. The guys just kind of stared at him. I was standing towards the end of the platform and the kids were between me and the man. I looked at them the same minute he spotted them. He moved towards them like a feral dog. You could tell the kids were scared. He got right up in their faces and started "yelling" at them. He was just plain crazy by this point.  The kids didn't know what to do.

And you know what the older ladies did?? They continued to look away. And the big macho workmen... they looked away too. DAMN them! Those kids were being verbally assaulted, terrorized, and who knew what was going to happen next. Well... the teacher in me couldn't let those kids be hurt. The Bully Buster in me was livid. I was shaking. I'm shaking now typing this. Crazy or not he had no right to come after those kids. Pick on somebody his own size??? When will I learn that those are NOT the words to utter anywhere NEAR a bully??

I motioned to the kids to come and stand behind me. Did the women do jack? Did the MEN do jack. DAMN THEM. Nobody even moved. They just stood there watching us like it was a movie. I'm surprised they didn't make a ring around us and start chanting "FIGHT! FIGHT!" The kids were huddling behind me. And that just drew the madman towards me. The next thing I know he's nearly nose to nose with me. I was LIVID. If I'd given in to it and hauled off and hit him like I wanted to... I don't think a person on that median would have stepped if he'd tried to kill me.

I even registered in my mind at the time that he might be dangerous... thank he could very well kill me before anybody even thought to move. Funny what you think about in situations like that. The next thought was, "If I have to go out... I want to go out trying to save somebody else. I want to go out swinging." He's standing in my face slobbering and blowing his breath on me. I could clearly see the big gap where teeth should have been. Yellow. His teeth wer yellow.

And then out of NOWHERE words came out of my mouth, "Bless you Brother in the name of Jesus." I don't know who was shocked more... him, me, or all the people on the platform. I didn't yell it... and I didn't bust out with "Get the behind me Satan." I just blessed him. And he walked away. Only then did the fight or flight reflex leave me as did every bone in my body. I felt like I was going to fall over. The older ladies looked at me... but thos "macho men" just looked away. The kids' school bus came and they got on it. They waved. My bus eventually came and I slumped into a seat.

That man could have had who knows what kind of weapon. Street people have to carry them to protect themselves from other street people. I truly think it was an act of God that he didn't pull out a knife or something.

I know the lesson learned. It just hit me. Some bullies you may need to physically fight. Others you may need to face off and exchange words... but some bullies? You need to pray for them. It was by the grace of God that I thought to bless the man. Hell... I didn't think. I just did it. SO... as much as I want to do battle with this current bully... the fight is actually not mine. My protective streak is still firmly in place but I'm going to pray. Anti-climactic for those who don't believe in Jesus.... yet this means everything in the world to those who do.

This is not to be confused with coughing up a fur ball... a colorful phrase that I use when something has shocked and surprised me. Well... now that you put it THAT way I guess you could say that I did cough up a fur ball or too because I was shocked and surprised. NOW???

Now I'm just pissed. I don't always handle my own dramas very well... but I've got a very wide protective streak. I will protect others sometimes to my own detriment. Two examples stand out prominently in my memory.

The first incident was in elementary school. Doesn't it ALL start out in elementary school... back on the playground??? It's amazing that some people ever made it off that playground alive. Scenario: Mandatory busing was in place to help intergrate California schools. What this meant was that I had to catch a school bus at 6am in order to get to school all the way out in Encino. The drive from So. Central Los Angeles was long and tiring. To continue said scenario you have a busload of inner city kids interrupting to serenity of a white bread school in a white bread neighborhood. I do believe that there were picketers our first day.

Eventually things settle down. We make friends and things are going well. Things were all right in my world until the day my friend Danielle came under the fire of this kid that rode the bus with me. Danielle was the smallest kid in the whole grade level and Patrick was the tallest. At the time he seemed taller than even THE PRINCIPAL... but now I highly doubt that. One day "on the playground" DAMN that playground! We are outside playing whatever kids used to play back then when Patrick starts harrassing Danielle. He didn't actually touch her he was just calling her names and trying to hurt her feelings. To her, I'm sure he looked like Goliath.

I can remember facing him down... or I would have if I'd had a stool. I go up to him and stand between him and Danielle. I was a pretty quiet kid back then... but I packed some attitude if anybody I cared about was in trouble. I must've been in the 5th or 6th grade so I wasn't some little child. I knew that standing up to Patrick might create more problems for me than I really wanted. I have NEVER been confrontational. I HATE confrontation b/c my home WAS confrontation. That's where my bubble started to form... at home. I would hide in it until all the combatants had receded to their own rooms. My sisters not my parents.

Anyway... I couldn't just stand there and let him terrify her. So I find myself standing between them. I actually don't remember being afraid. I look him in the eyes and tell him to pick on somebody his own size. I vaguely remember him smiling and I think he might have said, "OK"... and then the next thing I knew he'd hauled his fist back and punch me so hard in the chest it knocked me flat. I couldn't breathe. I just remember being in the center of a ring of kids chanting "FIGHT! FIGHT!"

I am not, and never have been, a fool. I started faking an asthma attack. There was no WAY I iwas going to stand up and have him clock me again. Eventually a teacher came over. I don't remember who it was... Saint Teacher??? Patron Saint of Kid's Who Have Gotten Their Butts Kicked???

The "fight" was broken up and I must have been sent to the nurse. Patrick had to have been sent to the Principal's office. That was the last time he ever bothered Danielle. He got suspended for a while and I think he was reassigned to another school bus so he couldn't bother me. The ironic thing was even though I'd technically "started" the fight... the school never even told my mother. I had such a pristine reputation that nobody believed that I could have done anything like that. Now I see that I never "started" that fight. I tried to tell a mean spirited bully not to "use his words" to hurt another person just because they could.

Ok. When I started typing I was mad enough to spit fur... which is pretty scary. Writing, once again, has come to my rescue. I'm still pissed but I'm not going to go off half cocked. I need to think about what I learned on that playground. Some bullies... ok, most bullies, are not going to fight fair. I also learned that if I intervene I could get hurt. Having that neandertal sucker punch me hurt... but the pain eventually went away and even the memory of the event is fuzzy.

Words? Those HURT. They have a habit of sticking around YEARS after they were spoken. The bible is FULL of references about the power of the spoken word. There has to be a better... non-combative way to deal with this situation that had me so pissed. I'm kicking "pissed" down a notch. Now I'm just very mad. Maybe when I write my next post about another time that I stood up for somebody against a bully I'll be able to look at the event and actually see the lessons learned. In any event my head hurts. When I get really mad about something done to me I cry. When I'm made about something that happened to somebody else I get a headache. Staring at this screen is not helping... so I'll go do my laundry which isn't going to help either, but it needs to be done. Grr.

*Editor MIA

All day and a lot of last night I was going on and on and on about being overwhelmed about the sheer volume of men that are responding to my profile.

Oh, poor me. I can't take all of this attention... woe is me...*hand dramatically applied to forehead.

I'd started keeping a log to keep track of who'd said what to me and what I said back. I think I already mentioned that. What I didn't mention (or at least I don't remember mentioning) was that B and I were lookin a profiles last night just so she could see what the whole thing was like. So... helpful friend that I am I offer to set my preferences to men 45-55. And there were a few that she just HAD to look at b/c they had horses and she an avid equestrian. She also wanted to look at guys in my age range to see what was out there. SO... who's gotten views by men old enough to be my father if they'd gotten married at 18???

This is where I do the polite TYBL message. I'm minding my own business when I get a message from gmail saying that I got a message via CDS that some guy has left me a message. GREAT. Another old dude. I'd already sent this one a TYBL message and thought it was the end of that.

"Ok buddy. Can't you take a hint? Heck... that wasn't even a hit." When I read his message I was surprised. He lives on some man made island in Cape Cod and only wanted to be email buddies! Of course since I'm already emailing R, S, G,  and LMNOP... the last thing I want is a pen friend. I've had enou... 

Before I responded to his message I decided to see which one he was because by now I'm just plain clueless about what anybody looks like except for the guys that I'm already communicating with... so I go to his profile thinking, "Ok... I've had enou-"

Dang! How'd I miss THIS one??? Oh he's so adorable! Why of course I'll be his pen friend.. You can never have too many friends...."

And it was on the tail feathers of that thougth that I realized that I am certifiably full of crap.

I returned to CDS last night to answer the email from the man who thought that I was his future wife. It never dawned on me that he'd be white. I thought he would be black and from somewhere in Africa. I've gotten a couple of those responses and from the way the man wrote I just assumed... and you know what they say about assuming... DON'T DO IT!

I couldn't just send my standard, "Thank you...wish you the best of luck letter." I felt so bad for this man. He's much older than I am and it's clear that he really wants somebody to love. I re-read his message to me once my initial reaction cooled down and I just felt a tremendous need to respond to him in a way that would firmly say that I am not the one for him but preserve his dignity at the same time.

Nobody likes rejection. I know I don't... and the last thing I'd ever want to do is knowingly hurt somebody by being flippant in a situation like that. He is, after all, my brother in the Lord and that alone means that he deserves more respect than I initially thought to give him. I don't know how he received my message. I can only hope that he received it in the spirit it was meant. Even if he was my type I just don't believe that God would specifically say that I am the one when we've never even spoken to each other.

"Getting back out there" isn't what I thought it would be. I thought I'd get a lot of rejections and have to continually pump up my self-esteem. I've never had this much attention in my life and I'm confused as to how to handle it. Lord willing... I won't get any other men who feel that he's gotten a "thus sayeth the Lord" because I've been on both sides of that statement and it's not easy.

*editing not included.