I fell in love with broken people…

I am not sure how or when, but at some point in my life, I fell in love with broken people and the broken spirit that resides within them.  You don’t have to look far before you run into these people and there are even times in our lives where we ourselves have been in that class.  The broken fall into two categories: the permanently broken and the temporarily broken.  And perhaps it is the optimist in me, but I believe neither has to be an irreversible affliction.
 
Those who are eternally shattered can be defined as someone who has spent a substantial amount of time in their life dealing with hardship after hardship, trauma after trauma and bad luck after bad luck.  They grew up in poverty and likely still have not managed a way beyond that economic stigma.  Perhaps they have been neglected and abused – sexually, physically and mentally.  They cannot seem to catch a break!  Of course, there are moments when they can pull their heads above the water to take a breath in some good times, and prepare to ration the use of that one breath as they sink back in, longing for that break in the surface again.  And eventually they become complacent because the breaths of fresh air are few and far between and they wind up simply managing to sustain life until they slip into the peaceful release of death.
 
Assuming you are able to make and maintain any eye contact with them, it is as if they have eyes of glass or they are simply glazed over.  They appear lifeless and there is a swell of deep sadness that emits form whatever is left of their spirit.  Few lifelong “brokens” have a soft, penetrable shell.  They do not want pity.  They do not want to share their story with you.  They want to get by without further tragedy or attention to themselves, and the best way for that to happen is to never allow themselves to be open and vulnerable to other people.
 
Those who are only pro tem shattered would be defined as someone who is just going through a rough patch in their life.  Perhaps they lost their job, are going through a divorce, experienced a death of someone close to them or are simply overwhelmed and stressed by the harsh realities of everyday life.  In some cases this can be far worse of an experience for them than for people who are used to having miserable things happen to them. 
 
These people have not been callused enough to completely shut out the world, though they may try to at times.  They still want to vent and have that personal contact and lifestyle that resembles that of the lifestyle they are used to having, which may have not been ideal to begin with, but had to have been better than the seemingly endless fall into a black abyss.  They may grasp at things that they casually enjoyed previously and make them a priority in their life – alcohol, friends, relationships, sex and/or drugs.  But eventually they will find that the deep void does have a landing point, assuming the other things they take up as replacement do not consume their lives.
 
If you find yourself in this temporary state, try to remember that no matter how bad your life is right now, who has wronged you, how unfair the breaks you are receiving or how much rain has fallen on your parade, there is always someone else out there who is in a worse situation than you.  Do not fall into the victim mentality.  Have a kind heart to other people and the optimism to realize that this is just a rough spell and in time you will be out of it.
 
I am not sure why, but I’m always drawn to these people.  I guess I feel the need to help them make their life happy.  I assume it boils down to my own personal need to feel that when I leave this earth, someone will remember me for some grand gesture.  The urge within me to feel needed, appreciated, helpful and meaningful is always lurking in my mind.  And I’ve been there.  I’ve had the glassy gaze and the gasps for air.  Sometimes you just need someone to hand you a snorkel.

 

Compassion is what all of these “brokens” need to snap into a better state of life.  What can you do?  You do not have to have tons of money to contribute to a worthy cause or association.  Sometimes it simply takes listening, saying a kind word or merely making a moment of eye contact and tossing a smile in another’s direction.  So that’s my challenge to you over the course of the weekend.  Make eye contact and smile with 5 random strangers as you are out and about over the weekend.  You will be surprised just how good it makes even you feel by performing such a simple act.

 

The Sunset Optimists…

Though I have lived in Missouri for two and a half years now, this was actually my first Independence Day in the state.  My first year I went back to Oklahoma for the holiday, and last year I spent in Phoenix with my mom.  Now I’m sure most of you would probably not think much about it, but there is a significant difference between celebrating the 4th of July here as opposed to other places.

 

Where I grew up, you weren’t allowed to have fireworks within the city limits.  In fact, I am pretty sure you had to be well outside the city limits, which depending on where you were, could be quite a drive!  You weren’t even able to purchase fireworks in the city limits.  There were no stands in front of your local grocer.  You saw fireworks one time and one time only.  You went to see the city’s display as night fell, and that was it.  The end of your firework love affair.  A 45 minute jam in traffic, hours spent scoping out the perfect seating spot, all to witness 10 or 15 minutes of firework magic!

 

Now here in Missouri, there are fireworks going off for the week prior to the actual holiday.  People stand out in their streets and let ‘em rip!  Now when I first started hearing these, I thought maybe someone’s car backfired and then I started getting concerned about shootings, which was bizarre since I’m no where near the ghetto.  I eventually caught a peek of the colorful fireworks out the window and realized what was going on.

 

The week prior to the 4th, you see all these tents popping up on parking lots of grocery stores and shopping centers, and at first it didn’t register with me as to what these tents were for.  Of course it didn’t take me long to realize they were places to go buy your pyrotechnics!  And there isn’t just one every once in a while, they are scattered only a block apart from one another, and of course they all advertise that they are 50% off.  I did like the name of one of the groups though: The Sunset Optimists. 

 

We went to Lauren’s house to partake in Independence Day festivities.  The kids were lighting the fireworks and setting them off.  Even when we would take an occasional jaunt to the country to set off some fireworks as a child, it was always adults taking care of the fireworks and we were required to stand 100 feet away.  These kids were between 5 and 10 and acted as if they were professionals because they’ve been around it their entire lives!  My sister and I are still trying to figure out what the hell a “punk” is!

 

After I got home, I put Ethan to bed because he was exhausted and not feeling well.  Then I stepped outside and chatted with my neighbors.  The guys across the street apparently just moved here from England and were celebrating their first Independence Day and bought every insanely ornate firework they could get their hands on, spending about $500 according to them.  I chilled outside (literally chilled because it doesn’t feel like July at all here) and watched them set their fireworks off until I decided to go in and raise my body temperature.  Even after midnight and I was still listening to frequent booms of firework explosions.  I guess eventually you get used to it and stop dropping to the ground for cover!
 
Hope you all had a good 4th!

Life is short…

We fall into a comfort level in our lives, and as much as we may hate that spot, we can’t seem to get out of it.  Not necessarily because it is an impossibility, but because we are scared.  How do we know something bad or worse isn’t going to happen when we make that move?  We don’t.  But you can rest assured that if you don’t make a move, nothing will ever get better. 
 
I will never understand how people can live their lives in either misery or simply a state of being content.  Life is too short.  Be happy.  And if you can’t be happy independently, there is no way you can be happy collectively.  This is you, you alone.  Your life, your 1,000 months, your happiness at stake.  Grab hold!  Take the initiative and take some chances.  So what if they don’t all work out. 
 
I had become reacquainted with a friend from elementary school/junior high through Facebook.  We have been emailing back and forth for the last year.  She had been dealing with a bad relationship, but was scared to be single.  She was afraid that no one would want her because she has a child who is disabled from a previous marriage in which her husband was killed in a car accident.  She was also afraid of how she would support herself and her child.  Now I should point out that it wasn’t that the man she was involved with was generically “bad” or “evil”, it’s just that their relationship was not good.  He slept around, she accepted that.  He treated her like a slave and she completely relied upon him financially.  I told her that if she goes to the state, she could easily  get some assistance with finding a job, getting financial aid for school if she wanted, getting financial help with bills and food until she became stabilized — basically letting her know she had many options.  She would just kind of agree, but never make a move.  Never felt like her own happiness or the happiness of her child was really worth the effort.
 
I received news that this friend was killed.  As cliche as this sounds, she was hit by a bus.  She spent the last couple of years miserable.  Scared to live her life for the moment.  Scared to be happy and take that leap to make it happen.  Then it was over.  Gone.  She told me about how her son would climb in bed with her and she would hold him and cry because she was so unhappy.  She would promise him that one day life would be good and they would be happy.  One day didn’t come for her.  And I wonder, sadly, what was the last thought that flashed through her head as she died?  Was it a flash of how her life had been the last few years?  The sad memories she left with her son?  She told me once that the last time she was truly happy was the day her son was born.  It was bittersweet, considering his disabilities and the fact that 2 months prior her husband was killed, but she felt complete.  Her son is 6 years old.  In a moment when you are facing your death, and you have that flashback on your life, if it takes you 6 years of memories to have a truly happy thought, then you failed to live your life. 
 
This makes me think of what I do to myself to withhold happiness.  My heart seems to be covered in ice.  I’m not vulnerable and I’m not emotional.  I stuck the broken heart as a souvenir in the freezer after my last serious relationship.  It’s time that I defrost it a bit.  And if I collect a few more scars along the way, then I can say that if tomorrow I get hit by a bus and my life flashes before my eyes, I lived.  I allowed myself to be happy, whether it always worked out or not.  I had no regrets.

We cannot all do great things…

…but we can do small things with great love!

I see no purpose in paying for cable when I do not watch much television.  I do love the news though and because of that I bought an antenna for my television and occasionally turn on the television for background noise and some mind-numbing entertainment.  Now with this technologically advanced antenna, I can pick up all of one channel and this evening I was sitting on the couch and found myself watching The Bachelorette. 

 

So my television past has never included shows like The Bachelor and it’s counterpart that I was watching this evening.  I found them to be ridiculous cheesy and unrealistic.  I mean, who is going to seriously find love by hanging out with 15 people for 8 weeks.  If you were one on one, you might fall in love in 8 weeks if it was meant to be, but that time is spread thin between multiple people and you are on television showing all your good sides and hoping to avoid looking like an ass in front of millions of viewers.  Not to mention the fear of rejection in that kind of public forum.  Ouch!

 

So as I’m sitting here watching, the Bachelorette is on a group date with 7 of the guys.  Through the course of the group date, she does get a little one on one time with them.  Being someone who has dated many men, I’m naturally skeptical of these guys’ true intentions.  There was one tiny little action that one guy did that completely won me over.  The rest didn’t seem to matter, but this one small gesture stood out to me and I haven’t been able to get the thought out of my head.  As they were sitting there talking, a piece of hair had blown into her face.  Not a big piece, just a slight piece that in the breeze she probably didn’t even notice.  He did though, and just casually during conversation, he reached over and tucked it behind her ear.  He didn’t make any special effort or bring any attention to what he was doing, just as they talked, he casually did it and they continued to talk as if it were a normal occurrence. 

 

God I miss that…

 

It’s funny how the smallest things that typically go unnoticed in a relationship, are the things that you end up missing the most.  Holding hands, a kiss on the forehead, snuggling on the couch to watch a movie, having someone to taste the new concoction you created in the kitchen and of course the ever sweet hair sweep from the face.  Even the things that drove you nuts about previous relationships, you end up missing!

 

This brought me back to thoughts about what made me fall for people in my past relationships.  I remember there was one thing that my ex-husband did that made me realize I was going to marry him.  And it’s completely ridiculous, I know, but this was a relationship based on logic.  The grand gesture: he made the bed using hospital corners.  I know, it’s insane.  My ex-fiance?  Our first date, as we were saying goodbye, he reached in and gave me a hug and then pulled my hand up and kissed it.  

 

So I am curious, what is it for you?  What are the little things that you enjoy about relationships?  What weird or seeming insignificant things made you realize you might fall for someone? 

Vote for Pedro…

Imagine your ideal candidate, one you would willing give your money and time to support. Now imagine he is giving a speech in your home town. He’s talking about what he believes in, what his ideals are, and what he is trying to do. But his entire speech can be summed up with a simple statement: “Vote for me, because…”

What goes in after that “because”? What would your candidate say?

 

If he says, “I am one of you”, then you are practicing identity politics. Identity politics is one of the oldest tricks in the book. It was used by both good and evil political leaders throughout history. It is effective in getting votes.  But it is completely ineffective at getting results.

 

Why? Because identity politics is how politicians who don’t want what you want get you to vote for them. Let me repeat that: Identity politics is how politicians who don’t want what you want get you to vote for them.  Get the picture? See, we elect candidates because we want something done. Maybe we want our roads fixed, our government reduced, or new programs put into place. Maybe we just want someone who is honest and effective at cleaning up all the corruption. But we all want to get something done, right?

 

So if you are voting for a candidate simply because they are one of you, then you are doing the wrong thing. Just because they are in the same group as you (which ultimately, any two people can be classified in the same group, regardless of their differences) doesn’t mean that they will do what you want them to do.

 

In essence, a candidate elected with identity politics gets to do whatever he wants in office and feel no repercussions. That’s because he is still “one of us” even if he doesn’t do what one of us would do.

 

Worse, identity politics divide voters into groups. It builds walls and barriers where none should exist. That’s because candidates start bickering about what exactly defines each group of people, and whether a candidate is right in calling himself “one of us”. It also involves making false, blanket statements about groups to try and make people feel they are part of groups they are not part of. If anything, in today’s divided political climate, identity politics is certainly not needed.

 

How do you avoid identity politics? You keep issue and principle oriented, and you ask for practical, real examples of their adherence to those principles. You avoid all talk of identity. In fact, if he is “one of us”, then you need to think doubly hard about why he would be better or worse than “one of them”.
 
One thing I love about America is its diversity.  We all experience different things in our lives that mold us into who we are and these things are what determines what issues are important to us and which way we lean on them.  It does not make one of us wrong if we disagree.  Our view and priorities are different because we are different, and that is what makes it so great! 
 
Stand firm for what you believe.  Truly investigate your candidates to determine which most fits your beliefs and priorities.  Support this candidate for those reasons and don’t be afraid to express those reasons.  However, don’t bash another person because they do not agree with you.  If they can support their reasoning as you have, then you should offer them proper respect.
 
This election season, register, research, support and vote!

When a girl ceases to blush…

…she has lost the most powerful charm of her beauty.

Some people crave chocolate.  Some people crave sex.  Some people crave adrenaline.  Tonight I am craving a blush…

It’s been so long since I’ve experienced a sincere blush.  Surely I am not the only one that enjoys the sensations that accompany a genuine blush?  It is beyond your simple red cheeks warming as you grin.

The Anatomy of a Blush:

It starts with a tingle at the base of the neck that caresses its way to the face and down the shoulders. 

The cheeks become more red than normal and a grin appears, partially gnawing on the bottom lip, while the gaze is turned toward the ground, head slightly turned to one side hoping to avoid making eye contact.

Body language becomes uncontrolled.  The fingers uncomfortably fidget.  The legs are confused as to what they should be doing.  The upper body, partially skewed from the evident eye contact avoidance, is covered with goose bumps as the now exposed neck is brushed with air and the falling of hair around the face.

The warmth from the flushed face send chill-like sensations throughout the body.  And then the relieving sigh.

Something rather orgasmic about a good blush…

A post Valentine’s Day look at love…

Love is not a feeling, but it must include feeling. A love that has no affection or warmth or feeling is no love at all. Try to imagine such a love–cold, unfeeling, a love that does not like its object. That “love” is not worthy of the name. No matter how much that “love” seeks the best for its object it is not love without some level of affection. I think the reason these times show so many divorces is simply because we don’t follow some basic rules that previous generations did:

 

1) Believe that loving someone means making the choice everyday to treat them with love and respect.

 

2) Committing to being committed and choosing to work on your own attitudes and habits.

 

3) Giving someone what they need the most when they deserve it the least.

 

4) Doing your best to be selfless and serve one another.

 

5) Patience, kindness, keeping no record of wrongs, etc. even, and most of all, when we don’t feel like it. 

 

Many of us may have felt in the beginnings of a relationship that we were the fated soulmate of our beloved. The euphoria of the beginning of a relationship – all hope, hormones, and openness to possibilities – especially if, as a couple, there seems to be much in common – can make one feel a participant in fate. Only later are we disappointed when our “soulmate” turned out not to live up to that honor. It would have to be a cruel god that would bring us together in bliss only to later tear us asunder – and for what purpose? Is the tearing apart also fate? Certainly, we all learn lessons and maybe improve ourselves in the process of loss, but this can happen better without the concept of fate. If we are not careful, a belief in fate can allow us to rationalize that maybe the relationship was just not meant to be, as proven by its failure; making self examination of our part in the process less important. Fate also absolves the leavers of their responsibility or participation in the process of failure. It gives leavers justification; “If we were meant to be, it should not require so much work to make it good”. “Maybe, you are not my soulmate – this other person must be because otherwise why would I be drawn to them – maybe I am just following fate by taking it where it leads me – even if it’s away from you”. The question of why one partner is drawn away from a relationship is important to answer – honestly – for both the leaver and the one left behind. Fate leaves lovers to be acted upon, but not participants in their own lives. And, honestly, who wants to be with someone only because, there was no choice (what fate implies)?

 

Love is a choice. A choice of the mind and the heart. Often, if people think of it as a choice at all, they think of it only as a choice of the heart. Of course, the heart is essential for the “feeling” of being in love – and much of the joy. But love is also a choice of the mind. Love must be a choice of the mind, because the heart cannot, by itself, overcome all of the obstacles of everyday life – the mundane details that can weigh heavy on any relationship and that can be so destructive if you do not also intellectually choose love. The mind and the heart must both be committed to the success of love. The heart is responsible for the feeling and the mind for “intention”. And I don’t think that love can survive long without the lover choosing both in heart and mind to be in a state of love. I had a conversation with someone the other day and there was one line that really caught my attention: I love Christians; I love Cleopatra; I love my wife. Decision; fantasy; both.

 

Take something like your least favorite color. If you focused and chose to love it and make it your favorite color, you would. It goes along with my theory for my favorite day of the week. There are 7 days in a week. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are obviously not the greatest days. Friday, Saturday and Sunday are obviously good days. That leaves Thursday. I can either group it with the first, dreary part of the week, or I can choose to make it my favorite day of the week so that the good outbalances the bad! This alone is not enough to love Thursday. But if the feeling, the practice and the logic are there…you can make it happen.

 

Love is a choice. Make the choice everyday to love your partner.

 

Now it’s dark. I look for you to light my heart…

…I’m in between the moon and where you are. I know… I can’t be far.

 

To feel…it’s completely underrated.  You go so long just being numb and then you hear a song, see a movie, make a friend, have a conversation and then WHAM!  Suddenly it hits you.  Emotions start to stir and you feel your blood beneath your skin in motion.  Not that you ever thought your blood was at a standstill logically, but you realize you are alive.  You have the capabilities of being human again, be it for only a minute.  And somehow that one minute of life is worth the 1439 minutes of nothingness each day.

Is it uncomfortable?  Of course.  It makes you vulnerable.  It makes you nervous.  If you were to have human contact during those 60 seconds, you may never be able to snap back into reality and into the comforts of your frozen self.  Then it’s just you.  Raw to the core.  Unnaturally and painfully exposed.

Your heart pounds.  Your eyes fill with tears, be it of joy or sadness.  The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.  Your breathing is deep and drawn out.  Your senses are on edge and everything looks, feels, smells, tastes and sounds more intense than you can remember them being.    There’s suddenly beauty in all the flaws around you.  Your head turns in observation and you realize everything is in slow motion allowing you to absorb every element, real or imagined.

 

Then you snap out of it and sit, longing for that next moment of complete clarity and consciousness.  You hate the nudity of it all, but lust for its potency and passion.

 

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already dead…

After recent conversations, events and even the viewing of a new release at the theater, I have come to believe that it may be very possible that I am not capable of being in love again.  Perhaps love is one of those things that you only have so much in your life, like a woman’s reproductive system only produces a certain amount of eggs.  Maybe my love has been used for my lifetime and I have nothing to offer another. 

This isn’t to say I don’t want to fall in love.  I truly do.  I want to be completely head over heels again.  I want to be one of those elderly couples who is walking through the park hand in hand, or still sitting together on the same side of the booth when they go out to dinner.  I want to be old and wrinkly while my significant other kisses me goodnight every night until the day we die.  And then, should he part before I do, I want to be the sad old widow who will never feel the need to look for love again because I am happy with the fact that I found the one for me and my life was complete and I loved and was loved in returne…

 

It’s to the point where I am almost past the stage of ever be able to have a celebration of my 60th anniversary.  I mean, even if I were to fall in love and be married tomorrow, in order for me to obtain 60 years with the man of my dreams, I’d have to live to be almost 90.  And though that is not necessarily improbable, it may not happen.  How sad of a feeling to know that when/if I find someone who makes me feel that way again, I will have such a limited amount of time with them.  Granted, 60 years sounds like a long time, but just in thinking of even my child whom I love dearly, I don’t think just being with him for 60 more years is sufficient.

 

So maybe I am wrong.  Maybe there is no limit on our capacity to love.  Maybe I simply am guarded and scared to love again, despite my desire to have it in my life.  I may simply be destined to a life of good friends and family and lacking that emotional, physical and spirtual bond with someone who makes me love in a romantic sense.

 

Of course, I am one of those girls who loves to be proven wrong…

 
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.
Bible, New Testament, 1 John 4:18

Hurt…

When you become emotionally hurt, that never disappears.  You can’t just say you are waiting for it to go away, because it won’t.  If it did, you would never become stronger or grow in character.  You have to take that scar and use it to your advantage.  It will follow you into new relationships, but it does not have to guide you are rule your entire life.  Not everyone is so incredibly selfish and careless.  Allowing your hurt to prevent future happiness is simply a crime to yourself.  You have one life to live and shouldn’t you be allowed happiness during it despite your “baggage”?  Take control of your pain, otherwise you will only hurt someone else.
 
You’re wanted…scars and all.

No smoking allowed!

Dear Friends and Colleagues:

As you are aware, due to the acknowledged hazards arising from exposure to environmental tobacco smoke, it shall be policy of PSFS to provide a smoke free environment for all employees and visitors. This policy covers the smoking of any tobacco product and the use of smokeless or “spit” tobacco and applies to both employees and non-employee visitors of PSFS.

Presently, as per City Ordinance, the use of tobacco products is prohibited inside ALL office areas including parking garages without exception. This includes common work areas, conference and meeting rooms, private offices, elevators, hallways, cafeterias, employee lounges (I believe the only lounge we have is the mother’s room), stairs, restrooms and all other enclosed facilities.

Effective November 1, 2007, the firm prohibits employees from taking smoke breaks during regular business hours. Employees who choose to smoke may use their lunch break to smoke in an authorized local restaurant, driving around in their car (so long as it is not in the parking garage) or beyond a specified number of feet of the PSFS building.  Policy violation will result in disciplinary action up to and including termination.

In order to facilitate this process, PSFS has been offering a Smoking Cessation Program to its smoking employees.  Through stop-smoking aides, behavior modification and support, the firm is offering to take on the costs associated with quitting and offering each employee 3 opportunities to stop and restart, and then continue to aid in the quitting process.  The reason:  “PSFS is concerned about your health!”

Is that true though?  Are they concerned that in 20 years you may end up with lung cancer, when odds are you will no longer be employed with their company at that time anyway?  Or are they simply wanting to keep you ball and chained to your desk for an extended period of time?  Even a significant amount of the nonsmokers at PSFS partake in “smoke breaks” simply because they are otherwise not allowed to have a break beyond their lunch hour. 

In Barbara Ehrenreich’s “Serving in Florida”, she states: “The break room summarizes the whole situation:  there is none, because there are no breaks at Jerry’s.  For six to eight hours in a row, you never sit except to pee.  Actually, there are three folding chairs at a table immediately adjacent to the bathroom, but hardly anyone ever sits in this.  Rather, the function of the peri-toilet area is to house the ashtrays in which servers and dishwashers leave their cigarettes burning at all times, like votive candles, so they don’t have to waste time lighting up again when they dash back where for a puff.  Almost everyone smokes as if their pulmonary well being depended on it – the multinational mélange of cooks; the dishwashers; the servers – creating an atmosphere in which oxygen is only an occasional pollutant.  My first morning at Jerry’s, when the hypoglycemic shakes set in, I complain to one of my fellow servers that I don’t understand how she can go so long without food.  “Well, I don’t understand how you can go so long without a cigarette,” she responds in a tone of reproach.  Because work is what you do for others; smoking is what you do for yourself.  I don’t know why the antismoking crusaders have never grasped the element of defiant self-nurturance that makes the habit so endearing to its victims – as if, in the American workplace, the only thing people have to call their own is the tumors they are nourishing and the spare moments they devote to feeding them.”

Is it the harsh realities of working in the corporate world that our only comfort and relief from pressure is the silent killer of nicotine?  Is this the single thing we have control over or ownership when at the workplace?  Is the job so unfulfilling that we must feed these tumors that take over our bodies in order truly substantiate spending 8 hours a day at the office?  And even though studies show that allowing breaks in working during the course of a day has proven to provide companies with more productive and loyal employees, do employers really care about this?

We are but mere machines in a factory.  Granted, the factory is a little better outfitted in this setting, but the same factors apply.  Production!  It’s all about the bottom-line.  If PSFS’s employees are spending 15 minutes in the morning and 15 minutes in the afternoon standing outside, gossiping and smoking a cigarette, that is 130 hours a year per person.  The Plaza office alone has 370 attorneys and staff.  If we all took these breaks, the Plaza office would have a loss of 48,100 hours of production in a single year.

So I ask you this: Is PSFS really concerned about our wellness or simply the foundations of capitalism?  It pays to have our own marketing staff.

                                                             Sincerely,
                                                             The Non-Smoking Smoker