There's A Method To My Madness

Anyone else think New Year’s resolutions are a silly concept? Do you really believe that at the stroke of midnight on December 31st you are magically transformed into a better person, suddenly have the drive and motivation you lacked ALLLLL last year, or 2015 surprisingly offers more than 24 hours in a day? Not likely. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we can't change, that there's no hope for us, but why do we have to wait for the new year? Hell, why do we wait for next month or next Monday to start something? You're never going to be completely ready, it'll never be just the right time, and you certainly will never know everything. So what are you waiting for? If there's something you want bad enough, go for it. Now, not later! It may sound like I'm lecturing but this is really just a reminder to self. I need pep talks every now and again, don't you?

I'm also starting to question if goals are worth setting regardless of the time of year. It's almost as if you're telling yourself you're not good enough and that little successes don't matter because you haven't reached that final objective yet. They're also inflexible. What if along the way you decide it's not right for you or doesn't turn out exactly as planned, something happens that is completely outside of your control? Are you then a failure? That's what it feels like to me.

What I'm going to begin ASAP is to focus on the method, not the end result I desire. For example: I'm not in the same shape I was over the summer and my motivation for working out has yo-yoed. Right now I've got roughly eight pounds to lose and I don't want to be winded walking up five flights of stairs as I'm going to be climbing some major mountains next year. Instead of saying by March I'd like to be at my goal weight, I'm going to focus daily on being consistent with my eating habits and exercise. My body will eventually get to its own ideal weight - whatever that number may be (scales lie!!) - and I'll gain the strength and stamina needed for backpacking. Then instead of reaching a goal and saying, "Well, I hit my target guess I can stop now!" I've created a lifestyle habit for the long-term. Make sense? Progress not perfection!

One key ingredient from New Year’s traditions that I will absolutely continue to practice is reflection. In day to day life it's hard to see everything you're accomplishing as we tend to focus on petty details instead of the bigger picture. Looking back over the previous year will reveal to you all that has actualized - positive or negative. From there you can pat yourself on the back and maintain, kick yourself into hyper drive using that established momentum, OR have some serious inner dialogue on what needs improvement. Being aware is the first and most important step! 

2014 was a year of rebirth for me. There was a whole lot of self-discovery and fresh perspectives, while developing some progressive ideologies along the way. I've always been independent and very capable, but I never knew to what extent until now. After what I've been through I realize I CAN'T FAIL. No matter what, I will persevere. That's a great feeling when you're about to embark on some fairly risky, but potentially extremely rewarding, endeavors... 

Sorry, Wrong Number

Have you ever let someone get under your skin so badly that you're not yourself anymore? My ex had me so stressed out all the time that I became this really ugly, ANGRY, neurotic, miserable person. There wasn't any of ME left. Anyway, I bring this up because my phone had just updated to visual voicemail and there was a really old message saved from a number that was one digit off from my ex's which instantly took me back.

It was a fairly typical evening where I leave work, get my daughter from aftercare, help her with homework, prepare dinner and then we wait, starving, while it gets cold. It was requested (AKA demanded) that we all have family dinner together every night. Which I would have been perfectly happy with if he were consistent, or even came home for that matter. There was zero communication from him about his estimated time of arrival, and heaven forbid I ask about his day let alone try to ask when to expect him. I was constantly accused of being interrogative, even if all I said is hello when he walked in the door. This particular day I called because it was the night of Open House at my daughters school. No answer. I get a text 30 minutes later:

"WHAT!?"
"Will you be home soon? We'd like to eat before Open House."
"I'll be home when I get there."
"So are you coming to Open House? Should I wait for you or are you meeting us there?"
"What did I just say?"

This alone is irritating as fuck but compound everything else that had been going on for years and it's a recipe for disaster. I waited a bit, letting it fester, while trying to be patient to see if he'd show up before I needed to leave. Got my phone out and was scrolling on Facebook to pass time and, oh, there he is. His co-worker checked the two of them in at a bar. And while I'm looking at it a comment pops up from a girl that I've had suspicions about asking, "What, am I invisible?" You know those sayings, my blood is boiling, and, I've had it up to here? That's the best way to describe how I physically felt at that moment, followed by turning into the Hulk and wanting to SMASH everything in sight.

In my fit of rage, I was a bit dramatic and actually dialed his number, pounding the screen of my phone instead of just clicking his picture stored in favorites. I let it ring four times then hung up before his voicemail picked up and kept calling back over and over again until he answered. (OMG. Psycho, right??) When he finally picked up I didn't give him a chance to speak, knowing he'd just yell at me for being so obnoxious. I SCREAMED at him, every ounce of frustration from over the years came out, I called him every name you could possibly imagine and said some pretty fucked up things about him cheating on me (I later got confessions about my suspicions, BTW, wasn't all just me being crazy). And he says, "Who? What? Hold on, huh?" So I hollered at him to stop playing dumb and he started LAUGHING. But it wasn't my ex's laugh.

I was totally caught off guard and confused, I asked who it was but before he could answer I looked at the number on my phone. Oh, SHIT! It was the wrong number. I quickly apologized and hung up. A few moments later that number tried calling me back. I let it go to voicemail and his message was this, "Hey, why'd you hang up? This was just getting good! I'd like to know the ending, please call me back." HAHAHA Ughhhhh.

Listening to it just now was a great reminder of how awful that relationship was and what I will NEVER allow myself to get into again.

What's the point of rainboots if you won't step in the puddles?

Why do we continue to remove ourselves from everything that is natural? Do people not understand what we really are and where we came from? Don't get me wrong, personal hygiene and sanitation are necessary, but complete sterilization of every single thing can create just as big, or even bigger, issues than taking no precautions at all. It frustrates the shit out of me how "icky" things seem to be to everyone.

A patient came in that we needed to run a few tests on to customize their care, namely saliva and stool. Her reaction was, "You want me to do WHAT?"
"Spit in the tube."
"Eww. Isn't there something else you can do, that's disgusting."
"If you think that's gross, wait until I go over how to collect the stool sample."
"No way, I can't do this."
She has three kids so I said, "It's just like changing a diaper."
Again with the eww, that's gross. Then she proceeds to tell me she never changed any of her kids diapers, ever. I'm hoping there's an extremely patient husband or well paid nanny behind the scenes- but then, why have kids??

While volunteering at my CSA farm this summer, I had the chance to speak with a few of the students. They were harvesting lettuce heads so I asked if they were able to take some home and what they would make with them.
"You think I'm going to eat that!? Oh no, I'll buy my lettuce from the grocery store."
Hmm... "Ever wonder where the grocery store gets their lettuce from?"
"I don't want to know. I just know that by the time it gets there it's edible."
I ripped a leaf off the plant and shoved it in my mouth. "It's edible now, fresh; the best it'll ever get."
You would have thought I had snakes for hair like medusa they way they looked at me in disgust. Mind you, this is an agricultural high school with an educational farm - crops and livestock! Guess I should be happy they even eat lettuce in the first place.

I asked a friend if they'd like to go camping.
"By camping I'm assuming you mean condo on the beach, right?"
"No, I mean a tent on the ground in the woods."
"HA! You're always such a kidder, seriously though, what did you have in mind?"
"A tent. On the ground. In the woods."
"Oh. Umm... why? There are bugs and animals, and no showers... have you thought this through? I mean, you're paying to be uncomfortable."
Ugh, nevermind.

You'd think the rain here was straight acid the way everyone avoids it. It's WATER! You won't melt. And I know you purchased those knee-high Hunter boots because they're fashionable, but they're actually functional, too!

If you couldn't tell, I'm in desperate need of a break from this "reality." Going off the grid, building a tiny self sustainable tree house never sounded so good! I'll settle for a long weekend with feral ponies for now.

Wayland Bootie, You WERE The One

Look. At. These. Boots.

Look at them!

Couldn't resist.

The temptation was too great.

Never did jump on the boots bandwagon. I rarely follow any of the latest trends, really. My wardrobe basically consists of my little sisters hand me downs, things I've picked up from consignment/second hand stores, and stuff I find on super duper clearance - I'm talking $6 or less! If they can come down that far in price, there's no reason it should have been "full price" in the first place. Plus, the feeling of wanting or needing something material (trivial, non-necessities), especially when I didn't even know it existed prior to me entering the store, disgusts me. But, I'm human and we all get sucked in from time to time.

My daughter and I only stopped at the mall in this case because it was across from the grocery store and we needed a gift for her friends birthday party that night, generally I avoid it like the plague. We parked outside of Nordstrom's, happening upon the shoe department on our way through. I noticed these bad boys out of the corner of my eye but just kept walking with my blinders up. Then I swear I heard them call my name so I did a double take; talking shoes would be quite impressive, especially psychic ones!

The trouble with having an almost 12 year old daughter is not only does she have a mind of her own, but she fearlessly expresses her opinion at every opportunity available. "Let's go in here! Can we look at that? Ooh, those are pretty! FEEL THIS! Mom, wait, this is the BEST!" I realize this is a time for her to learn about herself and what she does/doesn't like, what's important or not, etc. As impatient as I'm feeling lately, I usually suck it up and give her space to discover. So, we end up at H&M, Forever 21 and similar stores. Feels like I'm suffocating. She tries on EVERYTHING, jokes about being a high end fashion model, then struts through the fitting room with a Zoolander look on her face. That part was actually pretty funny. 

Here comes the, "...but I NEED it!" Well, no, you don't. You won't die if it stays on the hanger, right here in the store. "But, but, but!" And then she makes quite the compelling case, to me at least. "Nana [my grandmother] buys all my clothes, I don't get to pick them out, I hate them all, and I just don't feel like ME when I wear them. So, yes, a little of me is dying." Huh. If you've read my earlier posts you'd know how I feel about my controlling grandmother. While I'm not big on material possessions, what I wear absolutely affects my mood and confidence level, and I'm becoming more aware of this the further I dig into myself. Why would that not be true of her as well? Especially in middle school, with her hormones changing and all that other not fun puberty crap. Ok, ok. I bought her the plaid button up shirt dress and cream faux fur vest; she was ecstatic. 

As we were making our exit, I foolishly decide to check out those boots I eyed up earlier. Swoon! And then I look at the price tag. They're only about, oohhh 4500% more than I typically spend on clothing. OY. Instant heart attack! To make a long story short: As I'm in la la land checking myself out in the mirror, Bre tries to convince me NOT to get them because they're ugly and I have no style (translation = they're totally me!), and because I can't afford them. I CAN afford them, I just typically DON'T afford stupid shit like this. UGH. She sounded like an adult from the Charlie Brown cartoons. How dare she after that whole speech on why she needed that outfit earlier, anyway. It was complete reverse psychology. I never treat myself and am so in love with these boots! Within ten minutes I was practically begging the woman to take my money. 

I wore them around my house all afternoon, to the brewpub that evening, and around my house again doing chores on Sunday. Then I put them back in the box, back in the bag and hid them in my closet. Total buyers remorse. I went back and forth trying to decide if I should keep them, trying to justify this outrageous purchase and even asked a couple friends for advice who all essentially said I deserve it and to enjoy them. But after talking to my sister, who has zero income right now (it's her own damn fault and I'm pissed over this, but that's another story) and is depending solely on her boyfriends parents for food, housing and diapers for her baby, there's no way I can keep these boots. I may not be Mother Theresa but I do have a conscience; I would feel so guilty every time I put them on. Sorry, boots. Nothing personal, but back to the store you go. 

The money I originally spent on those beauties is now in the form of a Whole Foods gift card on it's way to Georgia. Helping others is what truly makes my heart happy; there are no material items in this world that could trump that. 

Stranger Danger: A Game of 20 Questions

My daughter attended a birthday party last night and instead of going home, twiddling my thumbs, counting down the time until I had to retrieve her, I decided to visit my lovely friend and peer coach at her brewpub. She was working so we had a few moments to chat here and there but for the most part I was sitting alone at the bar, which tends to elicit very interesting, usually unwanted, attention.

The couple sitting directly to my right were married and seemed good natured as they offered to move down a seat to give us more room, which wasn't necessary. After that I tried to ignore their conversation because it was so incredibly dull I'd rather watch paint dry. Then the alcohol must have kicked in because that girl became extremely obnoxious, giving the bartender a hard time for not drinking. "You're Irish and a bartender, you should be drunk all the time!" she stammered. He explained that got him into trouble and he's now completely sober, assuring her he still enjoys life and doesn't miss it. "I want to believe you, but I don't. I don't even know what I'll do when I get pregnant. I can't NOT drink. I mean, shit. That would ruin my life." Wow. Don't have kids, ever, please. The husband is now trying to hush her but she manages a by-the-way-you're-so-hot-all-these-ladies-at-the-bar-are-gonna-drop-their-panties-for-you before he can get the cup out of her hand and push her away from the bar, apologizing to the bartender.

The bartender asks me if they were friends of mine. I couldn't help the, "HELL NO!" that escaped my lips.  I didn't want to be associated with that drama. He asked why I felt that way but I didn't really fell like getting into a discussion about it so I simply shook my head and said, "No thanks." The look I got in return was almost in disgust, as if I was acting like a total snob. It caught me off guard. Was I being too judgmental? My thought processes was interrupted by a tap on my left shoulder.

Two older gentlemen, I'm guessing late 50s, wanted to know if they could ask a question. If they were to give it a go, who would I chose? I told them I wasn't interested in playing this game and went back to nursing my drink, nibbling on some veggies and hummus. "Oh, come on. We're grown men, you won't hurt our feelings or anything. We're just curious!" I tried copping out again but they insisted so I finally said, "Neither. I wouldn't give either of you the time of day." Ahh! I can't believe I just said that! While I was telling the truth, I still don't like to hurt peoples feelings. I felt so mean. Fortunately they laughed it off and asked if I'd be willing to play the game 20 questions with them. Realizing they were not about to leave me alone, I rolled my eyes and obliged.

I was to guess their professions and was granted 20 yes or no questions as hints. Well, I didn't need any. After eyeing them up for about a minute; observing their hands, clothing, demeanor and terrible poker faces; I guessed the one standing was in education, either sales (like a college recruiter) or actually teaching, and the one sitting worked with housing but was most likely supervising and he kayaked for fun. Their jaws dropped. The first was a grade school teacher and the other owned his own home security systems company and rows with his friend every week. I'm generally pretty good at reading people, though a couple have stumped me recently so it was nice to know I haven't lost that ability completely.

Now it was two against one, they had to guess what I did for a living. HA! I was actually pretty flattered by their responses. At first I was a designer working in an architecture firm, a curator at a museum, a yoga instructor, then I was human resources for a large corporation. They speculated I had either two masters degrees and/or PhD so I must be a psychiatrist. Nope, nope, nope. But I liked that I had given off that impression.

This process truly fascinated me, especially the questions they would ask as hints. What does studying on the East versus West coast mean to people? Or if I have kids and how old they are? There's a good chance they were just being nosy, but it was thought provoking nonetheless. If I had shown up wearing something else their opinions would most definitely be different, I even used that factor to draw conclusions. What if I didn't have to pick my daughter up, had a few more drinks and was acting silly? Would I have been viewed like that obnoxious girl from earlier in the night? Why do I care?

I certainly won't lose any sleep over the opinions of people I'll never see again, but it did make me wonder about a few of my closest friends. How have their feelings of/for me changed from when we first met to now? What are my sentiments of them? I'd love to better understand the psychology and sociology behind it.

Snovember In The City of Good Neighbors

Unless you've been living under a rock I'm sure you've heard Buffalo is taking a beating right now. A few of my family members are in the epicenter, buried under 7+ feet of snow with drifts around 15 feet (that was last night’s count). This current band is bringing thunder and lightning, and expected to dump another two to three feet by tomorrow. 

My grandmother assured me she was fine when it began two days ago, as long as the electric didn't go out. Last night was a different story. Besides her land line telephone, Nana's only connection to the outside world at the moment is her TV. She had hoped to pass the time by watching her favorite shows like Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune while crocheting afghans for her great-grandchildren. However, the news coverage of this state of emergency has taken over every station there, hyped up the devastation, and has my grandmother scared out of her mind. Thanks, media!

Just down the street from her, roofs are collapsing, and doors and windows are busting in. One of the GIANT pine trees in her backyard succumbed to the weight of the snow yesterday, luckily in the opposite direction of her house. But there are still six more, just as heavily burdened, trembling and swaying, which could collapse at any moment. She was in tears begging me to come pick her up (not possible), though I did get a small chuckle when I regretfully informed her my go-go gadget blizzard mobile was out of service at the moment but to try back tomorrow.

It's been interesting seeing the Facebook posts from my friends, both photographs and videos. They now all seem to be keeping track of their days like Star Trek's captains logs: 

"Day 3, feels like day 33. Hopefully we see some plow action and driving ban lifted soon! Cabin fever is setting in but on a positive note this storm is keeping us all in one place without having to go anywhere or having to do anything (which is a rarity for us, always on the go)." 

"Day 3 of ‪#‎snovember. Dave hunted for an elderly neighbor's phone # and called to check on her. I <3 him. Today...we put up the tree and make more snowflakes out of coffee filters. I'm also feeling a deep clean of the kitchen coming on since I did most of the basement yesterday "

"Day 3: The driving ban needs to be lifted so my new twin nieces can come home from the hospital. Can't wait to cuddle them!"

"❄❄ Whoo hoo snow day number 3 in Williamsville !! ❄❄"

But this, THIS drives me fucking insane:

"Ok...I just want to scream! Get me out of this house!!! Toilet paper is gone, milk expired yesterday, missed my 10am hair appointment that's been booked for weeks, sick of cooking, I'm dying for a Starbucks caramel brûlée latte...I think that might cover it all?"

There have been actual fatalities and all you can say is that you're bored, have gray hair and want a latte?? Fuck you! 

Also, the Bills are trying to hire people to shovel the stadium for $10/hr plus game tickets because they're supposed to play Sunday. How about financing the snow removal from roads so emergency vehicles can get through? Or dig elderly people out from their houses? How many billions of dollars have they poured into your pockets the last 55 years? Cancelling one game isn't going to make or break your business. Ridiculous.

I'm supposed to be travelling up that way next week for Thanksgiving, let's see what future weather reports hold. 

The Misogynist In Me

I've been attracted to women since I was fairly young, roughly 12 years of age. There have been a few kissing experiences, I was a regular at the strip clubs two separate periods in my life, and had strong feelings for one girl in particular that made me question my sexual orientation. After my most recent break up, I contemplated exploring this a bit more just to be sure.

It wasn't until a recent phone conversation with a dear friend that I truly understood my own feelings regarding women, even though we've talked about this before and I didn't see it. He joked about me "coming out" and recounted an embarrassing, yet hilarious (I still can't stop laughing), story during which he said something to the effect of, "...she was being murdered by an elephant sized cock." These might sound completely unrelated and inconsequential, but something in my brain clicked. I've been thinking about this non-stop since that initial observation. I am a total pig when it comes to views on women; a quasi-misogynist. I've mostly considered myself this hippie-ish, love and have compassion and empathy for all feminist, but this ugliness has been there underneath all along. It manifested in so many different ways I didn't recognize it. It's like I've tried to bury it, hoping to keep this alarming truth from myself.

During/after this last horrific relationship, all women were a threat, even friends. For the longest time I blamed all the women my ex cheated on me with and not him. I still do a tiny bit. When we were together the only way I could climax was to fantasize about him aggressively fucking these other girls, seriously injuring them. Watching porn it's usually the same; inexperienced diminutive chicks being hurt or taken advantage of or treated like playthings by brawny older men.

It's rare that I forge friendships with other women. I've always gotten along better with guys and it's been that way as far back as I can remember. If you're not on my extremely short list of exemptions, I've most likely secretly objectified and/or judged you. I don't trust women. I hate the pettiness, cattiness and games. It disgusts me when they take on traditional roles to conform, blindly or purposely, or when they play the victim. Sometimes it's aggravating just trying to have a conversation with them as I generally can't relate. Whatever this valley girl/basic bitch shit is, it needs to stop now; it's not fucking cute, you sound like a moron.

"Them." "They." It's arrogant and hypocritical of me to say such things. I'm a woman, too! I'm strong, capable and independent which sets me apart from a portion of other women, but I'm certainly not the only one of my kind, nor am I in an elite bracket. In fact, I've been in almost every one of those scenarios I despise at some point or another in my life. I'm also highly sensitive and emotional which could be deemed typical, unfavorable female traits. Perhaps this appalling mindset is simply a reflection of my own weaknesses in addition to some traumatic life experiences and residual, misdirected anger. Whatever the case, this brutal honesty is troublesome and needs to be addressed. I'm really not an evil, hateful person.

So to answer my own question, and enlighten those who have been curious, I'm not a lesbian. I appreciate art and beauty, including the female form (and I'm not saying I'm opposed to having a sexual encounter with a woman at some point), but I will not be switching teams.

An Exercise In Self Love

Those who know me well would likely agree I'm a very caring, thoughtful person by nature and that I generally go out of my way to ensure everyone's comfort and happiness. The problem is, I rarely extend the same kindness to myself and that lack of practice is beginning to take a toll. I find it incredibly difficult to come up with ways to love on myself without feeling selfish or vain, but I will continue to attempt nevertheless because it's an important aspect in the quality of one's life.

My most recent project was a combination of my desire to demonstrate self love with a need for a creative outlet. (My artsy side doesn't come out to play as often as I'd like either.) In lieu of selecting a personality trait, I chose a physical attribute to showcase at this time; my mouth.

I like my lips. No matter what weight I'm at, or clothes I'm wearing, mood I'm in, made up or not, they're always plump, soft and supple with a graceful shape. When I'm feeling sexy I find them especially alluring. I'm not very good at whistling but can make a bird chirping noise well enough to fool my cat. My teeth are neither the straightest nor whitest, but they are uniquely mine and I'd never withhold a smile to spite them. I have a thick, somewhat pointy tongue that is long enough to touch the tip of my nose; it's also strong and flexible enough to tie a cherry stem in a knot or open a Starburst candy wrapper (remember those games?). My lips and tongue are highly sensitive to pressure, temperature, texture and flavor, making eating and kissing two of my most favorite pastimes.

Do you put in the time and effort to appreciate yourself? How does it make you feel when you do/don't? If you were to mirror this project, which of your attributes would you select? 

Dear Diary: Family and Holidays

Growing up in a dysfunctional household tends to leave you with one of the two following desires: never wanting to have a family of your own or craving the picture perfect family, whatever that looks like to you. I didn't want anything to do with it. If you had asked me, as my Aunt did when I was very young, I would have told you that I wanted to live alone in a flat in New York City with two Siamese cats (it was totally Lady and the Tramp era). My sister, on the other hand, would disappear for days, even weeks at a time, to stay with any friend who had that white picket fence she chased after to get her fix. I thought for sure she'd end up with five hundred kids that I could visit then retreat back to my solitude when I had had enough. 

Then I accidentally got pregnant at 20. Talk about having a holy shit moment. My beliefs on family units and their importance instantly reconfigured as I felt I owed it to my daughter to have as close to a perfect childhood as possible; I did not want her to experience my nightmare of an upbringing. I remember so vividly sitting in the passenger seat of her father's maroon GMC pickup truck with tinted windows and silver skull decal on the rear windshield as he drove me to a doctor's appointment. He was holding my hand as I held my just now showing baby bump with the other, his excitement beaming through a still boyish smile. We were so young and so in love then. I thought, maybe I CAN do this. Maybe she came along to prove to me that this truly is what gives us purpose in life. Truth is, my daughter has been both a blessing and a curse. 

I poured my heart and soul into this family thing; uniting his, mine and ours. We visited grandparents and great grandparents for weeknight dinners and weekend outings, and I hosted most of the holiday festivities. It was always very draining but I started to appreciate it over time. I wouldn't have hand selected any of them in the bunch, but we all became very close and we knew, no matter what, we had each other's backs. That is, until I left her father when she was two. My decision came as a surprise to him and our families, and I stunned even myself a bit. I was overwhelmed and ran as far away as I could. And he didn't try to stop me. In the back of his mind he was sure I'd return, though I never did.

Fast forward about six years, now in Pennsylvania with my most recent ex. We chose to move here after a tumultuous go at a relationship in South Florida (thought that a change in scenery and a break from temptation would fix things - ha!). Because a good amount of his family lives here, we felt it could provide a more wholesome environment for the three of us. His Pughtown family was wonderful. They were who I would have wanted to grow up with and would have been proud to call my own. They were the ones who convinced me that was what I wanted more than anything; to belong, to feel loved unconditionally. So once more I bonded and cared so deeply, spending every bit of quality time with these people as possible. I had done all the legwork, building the relationships and carefully crafting memories. Yet, five years later, I find myself without.       

Last Christmas was my very first completely alone. I didn't want to be selfish and keep my daughter when it'd be more fun for her to spend the holiday with her father and his newly blended family. In a way I've been successful in giving my daughter everything my parents couldn't give me, I just didn't expect that it wouldn't include me during these times. So Christmas day I explored an awe-inspiring botanical gardens with my digital SLR instead of sulking on my couch, which I desperately wanted to do. I lost myself momentarily on the expansive lawns and in its greenhouses with dazzling ornamental displays, and figured that could be my new tradition. Looking back, though, I was really unhappy and longed for some sort of meaningful human connection. This kinship is something I've been craving on an everyday basis for months but it seems to be amplified now. For the first time, I truly believe I understand why depression and suicide rates sky rocket during this season.   

The real problem here may just be expectations. My mind fixated on an idea over the last decade or so and I believed so strongly in it that now my current life circumstances are disappointing at best, especially during the holidays. But how do you convince yourself that what you feel is wrong? How do you just let it go? And why am I making such a big deal about this when I don't participate in a "traditional" sense anyway?? Holidays, particularly Christmas, were created for pushing merchandise! Bah humbug. 

How To Connect Deeply With Anyone In Five Minutes

Am I the only one who loves these types of games?

http://earthweareone.com/how-to-connect-deeply-with-anyone-in-5-minutes/

I encourage you to give it a try, even if only to exercise your creative muscles for a moment. And if you're going play along, do it BEFORE you read mine!





This was my story:

There is a transparent cube of frosted glass about the size of a five gallon jug blurring my view of this barren desert. The edges are perfectly aligned, emitting a faint turquoise glow. It's hovering before me exactly four feet off the ground.

Closely beside on the right is an old rickety ladder standing erect but not touching the cube in any way. The wood was painted white once but the last few bits and pieces are flaking off, falling straight into the sand below where its legs meet the hard ground.

A dusty gray horse with a white mane and tail and spots on its rump, similar in color scheme to the ladder, leisurely strolls up with it's head hanging low, searching for something. It looks up and inspects the cube with great interest, briefly glances at the ladder before returning its gaze to the cube, then lays down to the left of it, staking its claim.

Wild flowers with long, flimsy stems start popping up beneath the cube rapidly and in great numbers. Their petals are various shapes and sizes, all brightly colored as the desert sun has not yet scorched them of their beauty. Instead of growing up, they reach outward like ground cover in a 20 foot radius around the horse, cube and ladder, as if the minimal amount of shade the cube provides were enough to suffocate them.

The sky begins to darken and a rumbling begins that can not only be heard, but felt through the ground. Pink lightning cracks the sky into a million abstract pieces. In the distance, a wall of sand like a tidal wave is forming and gaining speed, heading straight for us. The faint light from the cube is now blazing, and creates a barrier from the storm, a safe haven for it's constituents. The weather subsides and all is as was before.




Feel free to share yours in the comments and/or discuss what it means to you!

Operation Burner Girl Has Commenced

Well, I made it to that point where I'm officially sick of myself again which is actually a pretty good thing. Re-started Piyo at 5:30 this morning. Tracking water, food and portions for now to bring awareness. It's a bit of relief to know that I can have abs again in a month if I'm diligent, but ridiculously frustrating that I just don't stick with it in the first place.

I just re-read that. Don't I sound like a total whiny ass bitch? Oh, that six pack? Meh, no big deal. Give me like two days and it'll be eight, or ten. My abs have abs. I can crack walnuts with my ass cheeks, too.

NOT.

I've been at war with my body since I was five. About two years ago I finally accepted more realistic expectations of myself, aiming for health and vitality, and not some photoshopped magazine fantasy. Just need to figure out these cycles of funks and what they're about so I can be more consistent. I'm hoping that healing my adrenals and balancing my hormones will do the trick. It's quite aggravating to think of where I'd be right now if my efforts were compounded instead of starting over every time.

Ugh.

Anyway, I'll be using these Burner Girls as my motivation to keep going every day. I want to be my best possible self when I go to this festival and that includes rocking these amazing (-ly tiny) outfits or none at all! Eek!

BTW - I'm slightly crushing on the first one at the moment. Mainly because, if I could let everything go and just BE, she's a pretty good example of what you'd get. Except she's a bit hotter ;)

              

                     

I Watched Porn At Work Today

SOMEBODY introduced me to tumblr today by texting some sexy time gifs. How did I not know about this already!? And why when I say I'm going to cut down on screen time do I find something that pulls me further down the rabbit hole?

You know when you come home really late after drinking, the quieter you want to be, the louder you are? All your actions become over-the-top theatrical, hands are flailing everywhere. You startle easily and speak louder and faster than ever. Same goes for watching porn at work. This is how my day went:

Doc pokes his head in my... office (c'mon now)... to ask a question, I damn near have a heart attack and throw my cell phone into my bag with such force it bounced back out. I managed a, "Hmm.. what? Yeah, ok!" He asked if I heard anything he said - nope. Strike one.

My work phone is ringing but that last threesome is lingering on my mind, what do I do? How does this work?? Oh, right, "hello?" ENHHHH! Wrong greeting AND I got called out on it. Also, I'm so horny at this point I probably sound like a phone sex operator. Strike two.

Doc: Are you working on that funnel stat spreadsheet?
Me: Uh huh, yup. (I'm actually watching this hot guy being led into the massage room directly across from me while scrolling through lesbian action on this tumblr app. Would it be a welcomed surprise or very unprofessional if I popped in there real quick? Do guys ever turn down sex?)
Doc: No, you're not. It's a shared file and you're not even in there.
Me: Huh? Oh, THAT one... no, I was doing the averages first.
Doc: Why?
Me: You gave me so many supplements I can't even think straight. Hey, is that a new tie? (Insert ridiculously big cheesy smile here.)
Doc: ...
Me: Give me five minutes.
Strike three, I'm so out of here if he finds outttttt.

Must. Not. Check. Text. Messages.

Ok, just one more.

Mmhmm, that's nice. I wonder... aaaaand now I'm sucked in again.

Doc: When's my next scheduled call with Brandon?
Me: Thoosday (I was just about to have a When Harry Met Sally moment, dammit, leave me alone!)
Doc: Was that Thursday or Tuesday?
Me: A week from today.
Doc: Seriously, what's wrong with you?
Me: I think it's you. You're weird today.
Doc: You're lucky I like you.
Me: Roger that. Happy Veteran's Day, boss! (Then I salute him, he totally eats that shit up.) (PS - he's an ex Navy SEAL so that was totally relevant.)

Moral of this story (for me anyway): Unless you're able to "work things out," whether it's on your own or with a friend, save the sexual tension for home or wherever your happy place may be. Being unemployed is not fun.

Alternatively, there's no need for the space heater now. I'm a sweaty mess.

Burning For A Pilgrimage, Man

Burning Man has become a bit of an obsession for me lately. What's not to love about a crazy hippie community in the middle of a desert, filled with art and music, clothing is optional, and people are just burning shit. At least this is what I envision based on a few pictures I've seen and random bloggers personal accounts. The official website relates trying to describe the event to someone never having been, to trying to explain what a particular color looks like to a blind person. It's all about participation. You get what you give.

This is SO far outside my comfort zone. The mere thought of attending paralyzes me yet invigorates my soul. How freeing!

Guess you'll need some backstory here to truly understand. I mainly grew up with my grandparents who started sleeping in separate bedrooms when they were in their early 40s. Can't recall any affection or physical contact of any sort between them aside from my grandmother holding my grandfather's hand and pecking him on the forehead while he laid on his death bed. In fact, she's eluded her children were not conceived naturally so I wonder if she's ever spread her legs even once. Cobwebs. (I totally just talked about my grandma's cheech, OMG!)

If she could cover up our earlobes, she would. The baggier the clothes, the better. There should be no resemblance of any body parts or form/figure showing through. Needless to say, there were no talks of birds or bees. Bodies are BAD. Boys are BAD. Forget masturbation, interracial dating or homosexual experiences (and boy did some of us kids rock her world with that.. stories for another day). HA! You'll go directly to hell, no passing Go or collecting $200.

You couldn't even have a tiny space to be yourself in that household. No hanging anything on the walls, your bedroom was HER room, you were just able to stay in it and boy was that carrot dangled on a daily basis. One day my underwear would be in the long dresser by the door, after school the next they'd be in the tall dresser by the window. She was in complete control.

When I lived with my mother, it was do as I say not as I do which is very confusing for a child so basically that whole experience was negated, or rather, brought about issues of it's own later. (Again, stories for another day.)

Imagine how this all rewires your brain, though. Everything is bad and scary, there's no such thing as individualism or self expression, sexuality or spirituality. While I'm nowhere near the Puritan I was when I originally left home, there is still a lot of leftover anxiety about simply being myself, having opinions, desires. I was also the oldest girl so the expectations of me were exponentially higher than that of my sister or male cousin.

For me, Burning Man represents a pilgrimage. A much needed crusade pushing out the last little bits of self doubt and insecurity, leaving my mind and spirit open to possibility. It's place for achieving groundlessness. A destination to simply be.

Besides, I've got a bit of pyro in me and need an excuse to wear a gas mask and nothing else. No tan lines! Now what should my playa name be? Hmm...

Where Am I Going With This?

Ever wake up Christmas day to stacks of gifts taller than you are? The initial reaction was quite typical; there's a wow factor, excitement and wonder in the air. That morning the metallic red and green holiday depictions on the dollar store wrapping paper were illuminated by a fake, four foot prelit tree set upon an empty Uhaul box draped with a white sheet. All the tags boasting these pretty packages were from Santa were in my grandmother's unmistakable handwriting. But these minor details were easily dismissed with the promise of shiny new material items we had been taught to treasure. (Because what else could possibly matter more in life?)

I tried to strategize but my younger sister went into full on tasmanian devil, take no prisoners mode so I panicked and grabbed whatever was within arms reach. The anticipation was too much. My adrenaline was kicking, or maybe that was the sugar rush from all the cookies and candy canes I devoured before waking the others. Either way, what the fuck is in this box!?

Oh.

Whoa, wait.

You guys, am I on Candid Camera? Everyone's going to start cracking up and point to the film crew right about... now. How about now? Please come out.

"Don't you just love it?" my grandmother squeals, delighted with her cutesy craft project AKA my worst nightmare.

It sets the tone for the morning. I'm not even the least bit curious what all this other shit is. I'm going to hate everything but have no choice but to suffer through, force a half smile, and thank the idiots I call family for ruining my life.

Where am I going with this? It's your welcome mat. This pretty much sums up what you can expect from me. Nothing more, nothing less. Sounds like I might be sharing something profound but, surprise! You've been duped. You'll need to prepare for a bit of anticlimactic action, that's just how I roll. Besides, that's also real life. In case you didn't notice it isn't always flashy and exciting, not every waking moment is glitter and puppy dogs and rainbows or fuzzy handcuffs if you're into that sort of thing.

I'm a mother, a daughter and sister, an employee, and various other things to many different people, but none of these labels define who I really am. In fact, I'm not entirely sure what I'm all about yet. This blog is an attempt to chronicle my awakening, my journey of self discovery. All those things you're not supposed to talk about - sex, politics, religion - I'll be throwing my thoughts and experiences out there, leaving myself extremely vulnerable amidst the most radical form of self expression I've ever committed to. A public diary, if you will. (I have been the biggest goodie-two-shoes you'd ever meet so this is bat shit crazy for me. Stop judging already, at least wait till I get to the good stuff!) (And yes, I have sidebar conversations and think I'm hilarious - that's really all that matters.)

By the way, that Christmas story is true and I hope you're dying to know what was in the box because I can't wait to tell you! It was a gray Champion sweatshirt adorned with an iron on decal of a teddy bear wearing a Native American headdress, lovingly hand decorated in great detail with puffy paint. I was in Junior High, not a toddler. There is photo evidence that even made its way into our yearbook. If I can locate it, I will share.

Stay tuned, this should get interesting.