Apparently, female soldiers can get free breast implants! And I thought the story about the bear that drank 36 cans of beer was out there! I just had to share what our tax dollars are going for. Free breast implants.

I have to get this off of my chest, and hopefully settle my stomach at the same time. Last week, one of the bank customers, a regular, asked me out. Sound flattering? Except for the fact that he's a gross old man, older than my father. He always sort of gave me the willies, but as he seemed harmless enough, I was my usual bubbly self- too many years of work at the Disney Store rubbed off. So last week he asked me out, I dodged it, replying that I'm not allowed to date customers, which isn't true, but he doesn't know that. I just didn't want to hurt his feelings. He responded with "I'm probably old enough to be your daddy." The fact that he actually used the word "daddy" creeped me out, as well as nauseated me, and everytime I thought about it all weekend, I would get that same sick feeling in my stomach. Everyone I told about it would laugh and say, "Well, did you look up his bank account and see how much money he has?" Sorry, not funny!
So, he comes into the bank this morning and I don't want to wait on him, ever again. And the girl next to me gets up and leaves her cubicle so I have to wait on him, or it will seem like I don't want to, which I don't. He asks me what I'm doing next week, I'm business like and just replied that I don't know but I'll be kept busy. And then he says something like, "I know, you can't date customers, not that you would date me anyway. But I've got the money, honey" My answer was a very frank, "I'm 26." He replies, "Yes, and your good looking. Before you know it, you'll be 62." What the Hell is that supposed to mean?! As he walks away, he says, "I'll see you next week!" I'll be diving under my desk like it's a bad sitcom! So now, I have knots in my stomach and I can't get rid of this general feeling of icki-ness. I hope it passes soon, but I doubt it.

I read an article about Japanese children that have a problem with sudden bursts of rage. It spoke of an eleven year old girl who lured her friend, who was twelve, into an empty classroom where she slit her throat with a box cutter and then kicked her head and body while she bled to death. When she walked into the classroom all covered in blood, she said in perfect calm, "This isn't my blood". That's when they discovered the other girl's body. All of this because the girl, her friend, teased her on the internet about being chubby. And then later, the girl who killed her friend, wanted to apologize to her for what she had done, because she couldn't comprehend that by committing the deed, she had ended her friend's life. It seems that there is a serious problem among the young in Japan not comprehending the finality of such actions because they are so accustomed to just starting the game over. Psychologists also sited the fact that these children live in small, crowded apartment builidings and don't own pets so they never get the chance to learn about the finality of death at a young age.

I read this story and chilled me. It's a different society, half a world away and yet, they also have this issue with rage in their children and those children committing unspeakable acts against each other. I feel lucky that I didn't grow up in such an age, but I genuinely fear for the future with children like these on the rise. In our already war torn world, what will it become with them as adults?

I know I'm not the only person on Earth who seems to be a different person when I'm around different people in different circumstances. Most people are in denial about this. I just find it to be a fact of life and of survival. There are shades to me, certain things that are constant, and there are other things that only appear around certain groups of people. There's "Church" Andrea and "Work" Andrea. There's also "Outgoing" Andrea, "Introverted" Andrea, and "Bitch" Andrea. These are all aspects of my personality, but they are separate and distinct, and there are many, many shades more. For others, this can be a problem, especially when all they see of me is one of the shades, and then to see me in a different space, or shade, they have a problem with it, and suddenly, I am not who they thought, or blah, blah, blah, etc... I am who I am is the answer to that question. I suppose who I am all depends upon where I am, and what mood I am in, when you meet me.

So, no, I haven't begun "Man in the Iron Mask" like I said I would. As I perused my bookcase, I did not see it there amongst the Harry Potters, the Anne Rice- Lestat Books, Clive Barker's Abarat (which is amazing! I HIGHLY recommend!), and others previously mentioned. But, I did come across "The Treasured Writings of Khalil Gibran". My father bought it for me several Christmases ago and I never really gave it much thought, but this time, something made me pick it up. I haven't read very much of it at this point because, frankly, I've been too damned tired, but what I have read is simple sublime. Trisha, I finally get what you've been talking about all these years! It's tragic and soothing and hauntingly, amazingly beautiful. Check it out. I doubt you'll be disappointed.