If you are a fellow Ram, or you are lucky enough to share your life with one, you know that we go through life charging forward. If the Ram happens to have a witchy soul, then the pushing comes loaded with extra determination. Now imagine a determined witchy Ram who is also one of “the Few, the Proud, the Marines.” Yep, cockiness to the zillionth power and, often times, with more than enough wild will to back it up.
So why would someone (let’s say, moi) high on all this awesomeness would ever step back from an argument? Well, because the big-hearted Aries knows about passion, the wild Witch understands empathy, and the Marine has enough discipline for two, even three. And modesty *cough, cough*
Today was one of those days… I spent a bunch of time with different agencies (the IRS, Department of Health, utility companies, collectors…) I’m still trying to finish all the paperwork attached to my little brother’s death. The utility companies were angels, the collectors were suspicious, the IRS was… the IRS. By the time I was done speaking to the last IRS agent, I was almost convinced I had to pay taxes for the privilege of breathing my little brother’s name.
After a lot of time on the phone, all I had to do was mail originals and copies of my little brother’s death certificate to a few agencies and individuals. I was accessing the scanned document, smiling wide (it was about to be over!), when I noticed a mistake on my little brother’s social security number.
I grabbed a bag of sunflower seeds, a glass of strawberry wine, and sat on the terrace. “Don’t get upset,” I told myself. “It’ll be fine. They’ll just have to wait a bit.”
I called the funeral home and the attendant told me, “No problem. Just bring in the original and we’ll have it fixed.” She said that it would take a few weeks and a $42 fee.
I was okay with that. Not thrilled, but I wasn’t pulling my hair out or plotting anyone’s painful and slow fictitious death (Fiction writing is awesome therapy. Go ahead, kill a few characters. You could always revive them, you know?) Anyway, the agencies and most of the individuals understood the human error, and said thanks for letting them know. Someone was pissed about having to wait.
“Fine!” this person said, “Just hold on to it. I’m a grown (um… person) I don’t need your help.”
“I’m not denying you my help,” I said, feeling a bit irritated. “I’m saying that as it is, the document holds no value. And if I send it to you, it will be worth nothing.”
“I don’t want it anymore, just keep it!”
*Magaly sips wine, chews sunflower seeds, sips wine* “I’m not trying to keep anything. The document is worthless right now. As soon as it’s fixed, I’ll forward it to you.”
“Just send it to me the way it is!”
*The wine glass is empty and Magaly is losing her cool* “Listen, you need to look at the facts. I haven’t said I don’t want to help you, if you want a worthless document I’ll send it. But I want you to sign a paper saying that you understand what I’m telling you.”
This goes on for about 45 minutes….
“Don’t send it!”
“Your decision,” I say.
“And yours, too!” the person say.
Huh? I think.
I sent an email to the person, suggesting that it would be wise to think on it. If a few hours (or days) later—after the rage burns out—the person still doesn’t want the corrected death certificate, then I’ll keep my peace.
I haven’t heard anything yet, but I’ll wait…
You see, my Wicked Luvs, in the 90s, while I was in Marine Corps Combat Training (as a student), I lay on the prone position for a very long time. There was a tick on my wrist, engorging on my blood. But I left it alone. I didn’t want to move or make a sound that might have given away my squad’s position. There were times, when I even forgot about the parasite.
If I have enough discipline to wait on a hungry tick, I’m sure I’ll find it in my Aries, witchy, Marine heart to wait until a confused human being cools off and sees reason. So, I’m waiting…
Things have sure changed a lot since my time! I bet the ticks are happy.
um... I have no idea who these people are, by the way ;-)