Who Am I and What am I Doing Here?

This post would best be digested while listening to "Henry Nearly Killed Me, it's a Shame" - Ray Lamontagne


Henry Nearly Killed Me






My name is Antonina, but everyone calls me Nina.  I was named after my Nana...

I have a 4 year old son named Jack, named after my grandfather...

I'm thirty years old.  I was born and raised in the suburbs of Detroit.  I work in the defense industry.  I've got a BBA, specializing in Human Resource Management.  My son and I are raising a tadpole, named Tad.  My family has bound me with multiple creative abilities and interests; therefore I like a lot of things, and cannot devote myself to pursue any one interest.  I do have a passion for writing.  These days I find myself wanting everything life has to offer, but I'm limited to spending most of my time at work.  I enjoy what I do, but is it really for me, or is it just something I pushed myself through for an earnest paycheck?  As my ex-husband once said, "...you are like a hippee, and I'm like a college prep..."  This was his justification as to just how incompatible we were - but really? (he is realizing now just how lame that sounded.  Bet). 

So, yes...I do hold unconventional views.  I think outside the box.  I sing.  I play guitar.  I have a rawnchy and twisted sense of humor at times.  I enjoy my personal time just a little too much.  All of these things fall outside the picturesque virtue of a corporate America.  But!  I am passionate about what I do.  I'm passionate because I'm good at it.  If I could poop regularly, I'd be passionate about that too.  I would bet there are a lot of people standing in these three inch heels (deduct the ladies that give me the death look for wearing them to work).  Its a sad state of affairs when one realizes they devote more time to work, more time responding to others ineptitude, than they devote to their children, family, hobbies, or livelihood.

I loathe mornings...especially those that force my waking.

I loathe people absent of ambition.

I loathe inequality in the workforce.

I love my family.

I love my friends.

I love the prospect of change and new beginnings. 

Why am I here?

I started this blog over two years ago, but my lack of devotion and direction landed me two followers and months upon months of silence.  If you are one of my two previous followers, you will see I've made some changes.  Personally, I've made some changes too.  I intend to use this blog to share some tragic, yet humorous experiences.  I'd like to share my humble opinion on workplace topics of interest.  I would also like to use it as my personal therapist, so if you happen to leave a comment, be sure it isn't one that will send me reeling off the nearest overpass.  Like many of you, I find solace in humoring myself at another's expense.  I will share these with you as well, on special occassions like holidays and fiestas.


Through writing, I hope to get to the bottom of that purpose, or at least narrow it down to one broad topic.


For those of you that have played active roles in my misery, I will spare you your indecencies being made public and provide you a fictitious name of my choosing.  I can assure you, it will be one that suits you perfectly*.


I invite you to comment on my blog with any experiences you would like to share, relevant to the subject topic of each post.  I would accept unrelated comments as well, if thats what moves you.




*Disclaimer:  The fictitious name you are provided will likely be offensive, and cannot be exchanged or returned on or after the date a post is published.

What I Can't Find on Google:

Love.

A medical website that does not initiate a full out panic attack.

A place for voters to go to get an unbiased review of current politicians running for office by state.

A get rich quick rich scheme that doesn't require you to take sixteen surveys, three magazine subscriptions, and spend your life savings.

A well designed, user friendly website that is maintained by a city, state, or federal government agency.

What can't you find using google?

Another Night...with Grass.

Nearly two hours ago, I looked at the clock and said to myself..."wow, it is only 10:23...I can go to bed now, I'm ready for bed." So here I am...sitting in bed...unable to close my eyes. This insomnia thing has plagued me for nearly two years. I'm not quite sure why I don't allow myself a good night's rest. I would probably have no problem falling asleep that early; but I let my mind wander. It isn't as if I come up with great ideas, lyrics, concepts...or that I'm philosophizing about some major life event...I simply do nothing during these late hours. So why is it I just don't sleep? A question that boggles me today...and there stands a good chance that it will boggle me tomorrow too.

So...on with the show she says.

Today, like every other day, I slept beyond the point in which I had intended on waking. No surprise here. I dabbled a bit on Ray and head out into the wild brush that resides behind my house. It was a great day outside, little to no humidity, bright and sunny, light breeze. I figured since it has been over two months since I had attempted to mow the lawn...well today was the day. You see, I am not the avid...how you say...green thumb-er? Gardening, Landscaping...not my forte'. I killed most of my grass with Weed B Gone. How you ask? I purchased the kind that hooks right up to your garden hose. Seemed easy enough to me. Well...there I was...spraying and spraying...and spraying. It didn't look like anything special was happening. There was no color to this water. There was no odor to this water. Is this thing on???

So...I figured, you know what, I don't have time for this crap...forget this. I unscrewed the spray bottle and just started pouring it on the weeds in the grass. The horrible smell lasted for three days, the same three days I was afraid to step outside of the house for fear of seeing some bright yellow placard on the lawn that read, "THIS BITCH JUST SET US BACK FORTY YEARS ON THE OZONE!" or "THANKS FOR POISONING THE CITY'S WATER SUPPLY."

Well...that was almost two months ago, and believe it or not...I haven't really had much grass grow around these parts! Today, my grass looked less weed ridden, and more like actual grass. So I am happy with this progress I'm making. You live and you learn.

Tomorrow, Bob is coming over to remove my bushes. He's just gonna pull them all out...the atrocities they are. Beastly, gangly, fly-attracting monstrosities of the species they are. Good riddens!

Pfilidoopfilzoop: On Freddie Mercury

As I put Jack to bed tonight, he began to explain to me in Toddlerbabble the scientific method involving his milk and how it makes it through to the sippy-lid of his sippy-cup. I believe the sound effect referenced here was "Pfilidoopfilzoop." I tried very hard to look serious during this lesson because I did not want to convey that this was by any means a subject topic not worth my undivided attention.

Forever, as a member of the female gender, I have been perplexed at a male's ability to produce such realistic sound effects. In my short-lived life, I have attempted the "machine gun", the "car", a "motorcycle", and various animals in mating; none of which I have mastered; all sounding similar to the next. Having a young boy has certainly increased my desire to master such skill.

Now, as it stands, I witnessed my son giving a go at producing his own realistic sound effect. I was simply awed by this. Of course, this does not include first words like "boom" or "beep". I mean, something as complex as "Pfilidoopfilzoop"? He isn't even three yet! Definitely a boy. I am one proud mom. Not only did he articulate the process of milk entering the fast flow valve and entering the sippy-lid, he related a sound effect in which this occurs. Not audible by any other person than the 'drinker'. For reasons unknown, I feel this is a stepping stone to brilliance.

In recent months, Jack has also identified a bond between himself and Mr. Freddie Mercury. For those of you that don't know who this is...Freddie Mercury was the lead singer of Queen, brilliant artist, not very aesthetically pleasing to the eye, gay, who died of the AIDS virus some time ago. Jack has decided to be Freddie Mercury for Halloween. This stifling announcement excites me, and worries me all at the same time. I am excited to participate in costume design, and also to not have to contribute to any character idol (last year's Mickey Mouse - not so thrilled) that lacks originality. I am worried to promote this type of dress to my toddler, as he might see it fit to resume his full costume dress throughout the year. He has already deemed his winter boots as "Queen" boots and insists that he wear them all of the time. He peed in these boots and I have washed them - they have been drying for four days. No matter where I hide them...he finds them. He comes swantering out of nowhere in these winter boots, usually on the wrong feet, insisting that he where these "Queen" boots, "like-ah Freddee Mul-cullly".

I actually learned "We Will Rock You" on my acoustic - a bluesy version of my own of course - so that we can rock out together. It is our hope that by practice we can get this act up for public viewing.


Till Next Time...