Originally Dissatisfied: Sept/Oct '09
After revisiting my original blog site I'm feeling a sudden surge of guilt for "abandoning" it as I did.
Apparently, unless I'm mistaken (and that never happens), there is no way to import an entire blog from a completely separate site.
So... in an attempt to keep all of my thoughts all in one place, haphazard though they may be as I pile them one on top of another, my new intention is to paste all of my wordpress blog posts here.
This will take a bit as I'm probably going to start with a few reposts at a time, so patience is appreciated... with the time it takes as well as the rocky writing start.
Refunds unlikely
September 7, 2009
Greetings and Salutations. I feel the need to open this way because I’m fond of Charlotte’s Web, although were I reading someone else’s blog, I probably wouldn’t read past “Greetings and Salutations.” A conundrum indeed. Apparently I’m throwing caution to the wind, which is really the point of this new project. Also, Charlotte’s Web – as far as I know at this point – has nothing directly to do with anything I intend to say in the near future… just in case you were wondering.
But back to the point (and get used to my many and varied impending tangential thought processes… yes, I said “tangential”… did I use it correctly?)… I am attempting to find a way to break my patterns, almost all of which have everything to do with stagnation. I need change. I need evolution. I need a tidal wave to break on the shore and wash away all of this stuff I don’t need to hold onto anymore. (More on all of THAT later – “you’re welcome” in adavance.)
One thing I know for sure is that I want to write. Anyone having the misfortune to have stumbled upon this maiden voyage can thank my friend, Lacee, for giving me this bright idea. I want to write, and it doesn’t matter right now if you’re reading a published work on the New York Times bestseller list or a blog. Just being read is what matters right now, so this is where we currently find ourselves. (I am putting in my vote, though, that if I get to choose I’d prefer the former option to the latter – no offense WordPress.)
My intention is to make daily (daily?) entries detailing my successes or failures in ridding myself of at least some of my habits that revolve around procrastination or fear or just… “stuff that I’m used to.” The idea of writing on a daily basis alone is enough to make my stagnation rear it’s hairy head and ask Willis what he’s talkin’ ’bout.
Be warned. My ability to whine knows no bounds.
I hope you find some entertainment value in my chronicling my impending discomfort that will most likely be the catalyst for many unfortunate – ahem – “incidents”. I suggest that you go ahead and tune to your favorite evening news broadcast now… let’s not fight the inevitable. Keep your fingers crossed that a taser won’t be involved.
Day dos
September 7, 2009
I’ve made it to day 2 – a procrastinator’s nightmare! (I know what you’re thinking: what is the point of this blog again? Pipe down! I’ll let you know when I do!) But I’m feeling extra motivation to be productive as I’ve been working nonstop on a new business page on facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/More-To-Love-Massage-Therapy-Real-Massage-for-Real-People/128018603476
Peruse. Marvel. Enjoy.
I truly am surprised by what I have accomplished today. I DID end up going to the movies for the third day in a row, but first I did a fair amount of cleaning. Normally, when I finally choose to do some tidying up, cleaning takes me hours. Not necessarily because things are that filthy, but because I just move so slowly and half-heartedly that a day is wasted in one room. (Yes, you do sense a pattern. Perhaps if one of you would be so kind as to dangle a treat on the end of a string, I would begin AND complete a daily workout. Could someone get on that for me?)
Today I knew I did not want to get stuck in the house all afternoon, and I knew my movie started at 1:50. So I had to move my sizable ass. (That alone is an epic task.)
I managed to make it through my bedroom, a full house vacuuming, cleaning the litter box, cleaning the kitchen and tidying up the living room. I even made it to the movie with five minutes to spare.
Apparently I can get things done if I consciously sneak up on myself. Yes, I agree: I should be medicated.
And on day 3… she evolved.
September 9, 2009
Just like that. So glad I didn’t have to get my hands dirty… I coulda made a real mess with my superconscious ascension. But SERIOUSLY… I kid. Yeah… I know you knew that.
Among other things, this is an experiment in movement… all kinds of movement, but right now I’m thinking of movement out of my comfort zone… my carefully constructed box that’s not supposed to look like, smell like, taste like or sound like a box (but here’s the kicker: STILL A BOX!)… my personal space that’s labelled “I’m a free-thinking, earth-mother-ing, creative spark” (wordy, I know – I’ll work on streamlining)… this tasty little sparkly morsel that is sugar and spice as long as everything landing in, on or around it is expected, pretty, easy or familiar. I don’t react well to snakes and snails and puppy-dog tails. Seriously… it’s not pretty.
So… while I’d rather not jump in a big vat of the latter of the two aforementioned concoctions, I would like to begin de-consctructing this box o’ mine. Well… actually I don’t WANT to, but I want to want to. That has to mean something, right?
For some time I’ve had a book (that I bought, brought home, set down & forgot about – shocker, I know) by Louise Hay… about Loving Yourself and Healing Your Life. The exercises looked like they might be productive… if I ever did them. (Big IF)
While I had some time in between clients earlier this evening, I did the first set of exercises. Two days of blogging have apparently supercharged my tendencies for introspection. (Do NOT open the closet – I do NOT want to know what’s inside!) I had to answer questions about what I want that I don’t have, what the “rules” were in my house when I was growing up, if I feel deserving of the things I want, if I feel deserving of life in general, what I live for and what I currently believe I deserve right now as we sit here.
Once I began thinking about my answers to some of these questions, I found a few insights that surprised me. (Get my hidden depths!)
So I guess my point today is that I don’t really feel like I can do what I want, that I can get what I want or even – yet – that I deserve what I want. But – just like my impending box demolition – I WANT to want these things for myself.
I really wish I could just go to the “nirvana store”, and get this taken care of with a quick swipe of the mastercard. You think I’m kidding…
Momentum…
September 10, 2009
… is a BITCH!
Much.
Like.
Me.
Earlier today I was feeling… dare I say it… MOTIVATED to write! I was looking forward to writing to you all today in my brand spankin’ new blog. Then I had pizza, and then I turned on the tv and then I became more horizontal than vertical… always a recipe for disaster where I’m concerned.
If you’re very very quiet you can almost hear it… shhh… almost? Yep… there it is! You just heard the wet swack of what little was left of my gutted and flayed inspiration firmly making contact with the pavement.
That right there’s gonna leave a mark.
This brilliant blogging idea is supposed to flex and tone my creative musculature. Why, then, am I feeling so creatively lifeless at the moment?!
More tomorrow… assuming my waning ambition is only a temporary speedbump and can be resuscitated.
CLEAR!
The status of the glass
September 11, 2009
So were you thinking that I might not be back after my little rant of last evening?? Buckle up, Buttercup, ’cause that was nothin’.
Today’s attitude, while wobbly, is still significantly better than yesterday’s. Wondering why? Me too… the mood swings wide… know when to duck.
Today, I drew a picture of my inner child with my non-dominant hand. It looks like a picture of my inner child drawn with my dominant hand. I’m not sure what the detail of left-handedness was supposed to bring to the exercise, but what I found interesting is that the “child” in question is smiling. Not to say that I never once smiled as a kid, but considering how negatively I’ve been answering all of the consciousness-clearing questions posed to me lately, I would have assumed that the picture that magically came out of my colored pencils would turn out to be a bit more… morose.
Does this perhaps mean that, while as an adult I’ve fallen into the trap of focusing on the negative, I’m still – at heart – retaining more of a positive outlook than I remembered having access to? (How do you not occasionally end at least a FEW sentences with a preposition?!) Does this surprise me? I know that I’m a glass-half-empty girl. I think that everyone who knows me also knows that about me.
I also think the idea of being happy sounds groovy. Really. I just have NO idea how people do it ALL the time.
Some people SAY they’re happy all the time. Are they really? Are some of them lying? Are all of them lying? If they’re not lying then how are they maintaining the high happiness quotient?
Money can’t buy happiness – or so they say – but I would LOVE to try to prove that theory wrong. Spiritual evolution is supposed to bring bliss, but for all of the great meditative exercises or yogic exercises or energetic exercises it sounds so complicated. I know, I know… how complicated it is or not is more my choice than the reality of it. Yeah! Choices! Some people say that happiness is a choice. Ok then… I CHOOSE TO BE HAPPY. Wait for it…
Yeah I got nothin’.
I mean, I’m not ready to climb out on a ledge or anything… I’m just not yet prepared to do my happy dance. (And – ooh-la-la – I KNOW you wanna see the happy dance.)
Maybe I should think more about what’s in the glass than how full it is. Is it just water? Tea? Booze? Chocolate milk? Would I be happier depending on the quantity of fullness or quality of what is filling it?
Ooh… I’m deep. Seems kind of ironic that that’s not necessarily a synonym for “full”. How can you have one without the other? Discuss amongst yourselves. Great. Now I’m all verklempt. (If you’re unaware of my pop culture reference then do a YouTube search for COFFEETALK . God bless Mike Myers.)
Blocked
September 11, 2009
Just when I think that inspiration is about to strike, and I know which way I want to go with my thoughts today, I begin typing and… trainwreck.
So maybe that’s what I’m talking about today: the clusterfuck going on in my brain.
I’m scattered and full of errant, random thoughts… it’s all covered with a thick foggy coating of purple purple haze. (Maybe I’m channeling Jimi Hendrix?)
Oooh… now I’m an “Angel” of a “Foxey Lady” seeking “Freedom” like a “Night Bird Flying” “All Along The Watchtower” of the “Voodoo Child’s” “Red House”, which is really just a “Castle Made Of Sand”… and I’m on “Fire”! Too much Jimi? Can you HAVE too much Jimi?
I am a misplaced child of the sixties. See? Already lost, AND right now my brain is hovering somewhere over the Bermuda Triangle.
Nice view. I’ll say hi to Elvis and Bigfoot for ya.
Dawn
September 13, 2009
Tonight, there was Brad Pitt, a margarita and green bean fries… in that order. (If you haven’t had this yummy appetizer from TGIFriday’s, seriously!)
My friend, Dawn, and I enjoyed a viewing of Inglorious Basterds at the local art cinema. (I love the way he says “NAT-zees” in that movie!) I had to hide my eyes several times – it was Tarantino after all – but overall a very satisfying movie-going experience.
But now, the combination of the late hour, strong drink and – I’m sure – my age is making my eyelids quite heavy. One might ask why I bothered coming in here to essentially create a laundry list of this evening’s events. Trust me – I know it’s definitely more for my benefit than yours.
If nothing else, I’m trying to make this a habit: writing. A habit that will hopefully get me to a point where ideas are flowing so quickly that I can hardly get to a computer in time to get them all down.
I have every intention of being more thorough (and hopefully more entertaining) tomorrow.
Goodnight, dear readers.
Wants & Needs
September 14, 2009
Some things that I want:
1. A thinner, healthy body
2. To be a writer and be paid well for it
3. To take a vacation somewhere I’ve never been and always wanted to go
4. To be loved passionately
5. To find passion in life
6. To be excited by each new morning
Some things that I need:
1. To get what I want
Back where we started
September 14, 2009
I began this journalistic exercise to jumpstart myself – out of my rut. My life FEELS like a rut… the things I do… mostly the things I don’t do – the things I’ve left unsaid and undone.
For instance, I can think of one thing (in particular) that I could say to one person (in particular), and -POOF- my life is topsy turvy and completely different.
Different IS what I’m going for. Although, since I haven’t really DONE different… well – EVER… also a bit daunting. The vague “in-particular” scenario to which I was referring would be terrifying, but also refreshing. And the after-the-fact state of affairs would probably also be much healthier than the way things are now. Change is almost always healthy, right?
Something I don’t want to get in the habit of, though, is coming in here everyday and reciting once again how in a rut I am.
I’m in a rut.
It’s been established.
Get over it already.
Perhaps, if I were to make excuses for myself (something at which I’m VERY practiced), I might explain my repetition by perhaps theorizing that things change not because we come up with new ideas (necessarily), but because we refuse to let the old ideas and problems remain silent and unaddressed.
Wow. Can I blow smoke or can I blow smoke?! I really rocked that one out. Seriously. Go me.
Yes, I’m totally full of it, but c’mon – that was some good stuff right there!
So… while I very much want to continue this process of writing to… who? Someone out there is surely reading me on a semi-regular basis… I hope. While I want to continue writing to whomever may be hanging on every word I write (I know… longshot), I also want to start bringing more to the table than “I’m stuck… I need to change… I don’t know how… wah… wah… wah…” Someone PLEASE put me out of your misery!
I’m going to have to give this some serious thought. If there IS someone out there reading me, and there is something you want me to expand on, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Speaking of jumpstarting, right now I can use all the ideas you wanna throw at me.
Batter up.
Frustrated because…
September 16, 2009
… the devil’s best idea has everything to do with whether or not I want fries “with it” at the drive-thru.
… AND…
… no one seems to be reading!
According to my little who’s-reading-my-blog-o-meter, you all are not beating each other down to get in the door of my cozy little blog-nook. (complains the attention-whore)
And here I thought my daily musings, whinings, bitchings and moanings were completely fascinating.
What do we need? Different music? New window treatments? Someone at the door – on the other side of a velvet rope – making me look very exclusive?
I will sit and ponder over this problem… I just need more fries first.
Talking myself UP
September 17, 2009
According to a quiz I took last evening on Facebook (yes, my name is Stephanie, and I’m addicted to Facebook), my Celtic astrology sign is:
Alder – The Trailblazer.
March 18 – April 14 “If you are an Alder sign within the Celtic tree astrology system, you are a natural-born pathfinder. You’re a mover …and a shaker, and will blaze a trail with fiery passion often gaining loyal followers to your cause. You are charming, gregarious and mingle easily with a broad mix of personalities. In other words, Alder signs get along with everybody and everybody loves to hang around with you. This might be because Alder’s are easily confident and have a strong self-faith. This self-assurances is infectious and other people recognize this quality in you instantly. Alder Celtic tree astrology signs are very focused and dislike waste. Consequently, they can see through superficialities and will not tolerate fluff. Alder people place high value on their time, and feel that wasting time is insufferable. They are motivated by action and results. Alder’s pair well with Hawthorns, Oaks or even Birch signs. Sign: Alder Tree (Fearn) Symbol: The Pentacle or Hawk Ruling Planet: Mars – Maurth Celtic Gods: Bran, Arthur, Airem, Tutates.”
Don’t I SO sound friggin’ AMAZING?!
And what do I KNOW I have in common with anything that was just said about me? Well… I’m Irish???
Do I have charm? Are you feeling my fiery passion?? Am I loved by all near and far, far and wide, wide and deep???
According to http://www.whats-your-sign.com/celtic-meaning-alder-tree.html: “The Celtic meaning of the Alder deals with giving and nurturing… Namely, its root system provides rich nutrients to the soil, more so than other trees. The alder can successfully restore poor soil conditions back to healthy Ph levels… Primarily a wetlands and swamp tree, the alder’s root system is often submerged in watery areas. As such, the Celts observed their roots serving as intricate shelter systems to fish, specifically trout and salmon. Further, the alder’s leaves easily decompose in the water providing rich nutrients to all manner of water creatures… These acts of generosity and shelter against harsh conditions can be translated in our own lives. By simply standing firm in our own positive environment, we can affect those around us in positive ways. By emitting our signals of tranquility, and peace, we are enhancing the lives of others just be sheer association… Although it is primarily associated with the element of water, the alder gracefully crosses into the realm of air and fire as well. For example, ancient legend indicates the wood of the young alder is traditionally used for crafting whistles, pan flutes and recorders. This establishes the alder’s claim to the air element… Within the realm of fire, the alder’s coloring transmutes into a fiery orange after it is cut, indicating to the Celts that the alder secretly harbors sacred flame within its flesh. To prove the point, the alder (although a poor firewood) makes a pristine grade of charcoal, and was perfect for steadily hot conditions utilized to forge fine Celtic weaponry… In this respect the alder reminds us that we have hidden powers within us that if tapped, provide magnificent resources that allow us to live out our highest ideals.”
Wow… I’m charming, and also quite powerful… if you give Celtic mythology any credence. Should I find a Harry Potter-esque type wand made of alder, and use it to further enflame my fiery, powerful, passionate self?
I could try writing myself a mantra… something akin to “My charm and passion are magnetic, and they will catalyze the realization of my dreams.”
Good?
Ok… did I mention that I’m Irish?
Loving Me
September 18, 2009
I just had dinner with a friend who spent most of our hour hammering into me that I am loveable, I am worthy of love and that I am loved. And then she had to say it: I need to love myself. I agree. It’s as simple as a choice, right?
Why, then, does it feel so difficult? I consciously, logically understand that YES. I definitely AM loveable! I insist on being loved and praised and nearly worshipped on a daily basis. Why is it so difficult for me to do this for myself when I obviously want it so badly?
Yes, I know. We’ve visited this topic before. Pardon my redundance, but this is just the beginning!
Someone hug me, dammit! (Or at least write me a prescription for Zoloft for god’s sake.)
When you can’t say anything nice…
September 19, 2009
… keep writing anyway?
For some reason, I’ve been feeling terribly pissed off this evening.
My acupuncturist has repeatedly told me that I have rage in my liver. I totally believe him. I also believe it’s spreading.
When you have moments of depression and then moments of anger and then moments of feeling hopeful and then actual moments of happiness, does this mean you need to find a therapist?
Am I “normal”?
Are my moods swinging a bit too violently?
Does this just mean I’m human and alive, or does this mean I should be medicated and studied??
A portion of my anger is definitely at myself. I always feel entitled to attention (yes, I’m an attention whore), but – as I’ve mentioned – I’m not so great with giving that attention to myself.
Who the hell do I think I am?! Why do I bother to bitch about anyone else not giving me what I need when I don’t bother giving it to myself??
I also think that my Louise Hay workbook is causing me to focus on things that were much more comfortable when left repressed. So lately I’m walking around having perpetually just risen from the wrong side of the bed. Lucky world with ME in it right now.
I downloaded a new app to my iPhone. It’s called Blurb. I can type a phrase into the application, and it creates a scrawl in huge letters that moves across the screen in bright neon colors perfect for showing off to… oh… let’s say other drivers? PARTICULARLY when they have committed some heinous atrocity of a moving violation against me.
Is my excitement over this new toy a bit… bent? A healthy way to express my, sometimes, irrational anger?? A complete mental imbalance on my part???
Please feel free to confer with your associates… or just get me a prescription pad!
Give me love… give me love… give me… peace on earth…. yeah. Go George. I, however, am also well on my way to world peace – one incident of road rage at a time.
My tardiness
September 20, 2009
I must to apologize (to myself if no one is reading) for not posting last evening. My excuse: pathetic drunkenness.
One of my favorites in the alcaholic beverage category is a buttery nipple. Well the nipples were flowing freely last night. And then when it was time to get in the hot tub, that only served to move the alcahol more quickly through my system. By that point, I’m not sure how many nipples I’d had, but I’d also started on the tequila-based beverages by that time anyway, so it was all over.
Thankfully, a friend drove me home (there’s always the next-day dillemma of how to get one’s car though, right?), and I managed to re-hydrate myself well enough (also adding a bit of excedrin PM to the package) that I don’t feel too bad this morning. A surprise, really, since I was very much the worse for wear by the time I got home last evening.
At the age of 35 I really should rethink my whole approach to a good party. Not that I attend that many. I did mention I’m 35, right? But perhaps I should try NOT treating them like graduation day at Faber College, and see if I don’t still enjoy them at least half as much.
“I anticipate a deeply religious experience.”
I know you do Otter.
Me too.
Baby steps
September 22, 2009
I did something today. Actually, I said something today. I said it three times. I can’t really say that I’ve fantasized about making this statement (to someone in particular), so much as I have liberally fantasized about what life would be like post-statement.
The downside is that whenever another party enters any equation, the outcome is never guaranteed. Such was the case this afternoon when I stepped out on the ledge, uttered the magic words that were meant to be life-changing and the response was pretty much “I don’t care, and you can’t make me care nor can you do anything that is going to create the post-statement situation you’ve fantasized about for so long.”
Son of a… !
I’ve been so focused on screwing up my courage to just get these words out that I never considered I would have to keep saying them over and over until a dent was actually made in the warped psyche of “the wild card.”
But then – get me. I’ve said something I’ve been scared of saying for years now. I finally did it. I’m still scared of having to say it again, but… at least I know it can be done… cause I did it.
Go me. I rock the shiz.
Questionable short-term memory
September 23, 2009
I had a good afternoon. I am feeling stress as the a result of yesterday’s confrontation, but this afternoon allowed me to pleasantly forget that for a bit.
I know… I’m being vague again. As much as I enjoyed myself, I am as yet unwilling to voice certain things out loud for fear that there wasn’t as much to it as I wanted there to be.
So for now, I will just say that I enjoyed myself. I would love more of the same. And I will keep you posted with more details should the situation progress to the sharing-with-others stage.
I am very much looking forward to my next opportunity for forgetfulness.
Pleasant reminders
September 24, 2009
I spend a lovely afternoon with a few friends and some Indian food.
After the conversation I had with them today, I think I’ll try something…
… wait for it…
… I am an amazing woman, and I deserve to be happy.
Huh… interesting.
One more time.
I AM AN AMAZING WOMAN, AND I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.
K.
We’ll plant that seed, and see what grows tomorrow.
Everyone watch the water boil with me.
Counting to 10
September 25, 2009
I have remembered now how to make it from 1 to 10 since last night. Please forgive me for my rant. It felt good to get out the red aggression I was suddenly feeling as the result of someone else’s thoughtless (but not unexpected) behaviour, but then after I let my reaction sit online like an oozy open sore all night it kinda felt too festery and unnattractive.
So – bye bye – my maniacal ‘splosion is no more.
Just so you know, I can’t promise that that is the last time I’ll lose my mind, BUT… I will attempt not do to so in such a completely negative manner.
On a more positive note, a friend and I came up with a very interesting business idea yesterday over lunch. I believe it could be lucrative and fun. It’s a creative idea that no one else in the city is taking advantage of, and it could have a positive and very healing effect (on several levels) on it’s potential patrons. But… you know how you have a BRILLIANT idea, and then you think… now how the hell do I make THAT happen (cause I have NO idea!), and – as far as I know – no tools currently in my possession to make it happen?
So… instead of automatically doing what I’d normally do, and – however much I might like an idea – dismissing it out of hand based solely on how set I am to make it happen at that exact moment, I am going to let it sit… and see what happens. Anything is possible. And if that’s the case, then anything is also possible for me…
… THAT alone is a fun idea.
Alot to think about
September 27, 2009
My head is swimming tonight. I’ve had a very strange evening, and I have NO idea what the voices are telling me!
More tomorrow… if I can get my brain to tell my fingers what to say without feeling like I need to stop to sound everything out.
I don’t even know what to write at the moment.
Romance
September 28, 2009
I took myself to the movies tonight (just fyi – one of my most favorite things in the whole entire world), and I saw LOVE HAPPENS starring Aron Eckart and Jennifer Aniston. I LOVED it.
Kind of made me wish I wasn’t at the movies ALONE, but… at least I wasn’t at the movies with someone I was just barely tolerating either.
A friend used a good word today: “covet”.
I want to be coveted.
I want an amazing guy to break a commandment or two in his epic (yeah I said “epic) quest to attain me.
Too much information?
(Insert pathetically girly wistful sigh here)
Now I have an urge to eat cookie dough and stay up all night watching some of my other favorite romances:
Love Actually
Under the Tuscan Sun
Waitress
Twilight
The Wedding Planner
Should I continue with the list or are you developing cavities as we speak??
To have and to hold
September 28, 2009
Last night it was “mergers” that were on my mind… tonight it’s acquisitions. I suddenly feel like I’m in an off-off-off-broadway run of “9-to-5″, starring Jane Fonda’s personal trainer’s cousin… and me.
Try putting THAT on a marquee.
I should be in a calf length polyester number from JC Penney, “clutching” a handbag and getting coffee for the understudy, who will tonight be playing Franklin M. Hart, Jr.
(Dream big, baby!)
While on Crackbook last night (Facebook for those of you with any real personal boundaries or power of will), I followed a link posted by one of my contacts to http://www.Etsy.com.
Oh.
My.
God.
I’m not saying that it’s Nordstrom covered in Godiva wrapped in an all expense paid trip to the Apple store. But they do have some VERY cute little tidbits… a few of which I quickly discovered that – tah-dah! – I can’t live without.
This seems to happen to me alot.
While the greatest part of my motivation is pushing me to wax Shakespearian on the pair of pumpkin-colored cashmere hand-warmers that are just to-DIE, let’s first try the unexpected. Watch me carefully take a teensy step back from the ledge (off of which I am ready to execute the most bee-YOO-tee-full swan dive directly into the deepest end of capitalistic debauchery), and perhaps consider that my “love” of shopping is not quite as much a love of shopping itself as it is a LUST for Purchasing!
Purchasing is the feel-good that’s flowing directly out of the needle and straight into my addicted little vein.
I’m not saying that my problem is akin to a guy whose wife doesn’t know he’s quit his job and liquidated their savings in favor of daily trips to the track because he just KNOWS that he’s about to “hit it big” when all evidence is severely to the contrary.
My secondary love of shopping compared to purchasing is very much like my secondary love of eating compared to tasting.
It’s that one moment of bliss that allows one to (far too briefly) “ride the high” and pretend that this is how good life really is and not so much what happens AFTER the fact when calories turn to pounds and purchases wittle at an already microscopic bank account.
I’m aware that I was perfectly sculpted for the finer things… like that silver spoon I KNOW I was born with… I’m just having a hell of a time because someone has obviously misplaced it on my behalf!
Is the issue really my champagne taste (that I have no intention of altering)?
Is the issue my naturally addictive personality (that I blame my parents for, of course!)?
OR…
Is the issue that I rely on brief moments when my endorphins flow and then ebb again far too quickly instead of focusing on what I’m attempting to cover up with far too small a bandage?
Yeah… let’s all pretend to wonder together.
Apathy
September 30, 2009
Apathy is largely lazy, immovable, slow and tired. All that is ironic considering how powerful this state of being is when one chooses to fully embrace it.
Right now… I’m not only embracing, I’m wallowing. I am tired and SO not full of big words, juicy tidbits or humorous anecdotes.
I’m one step away from needing to be propped up with a drool cup.
I know… that’s hot.
Attention-deficit disorder
October 2, 2009
I don’t think I have ADD… psychologically speaking. I DO think that I run on a deficit as far as getting the kind of attention I apparently believe that I need.
Much of my blogging thus far has revolved around what I think YOU might be thinking of what you’re reading. Considering that I intended this as an experiment in at least a measure of self-realization, perhaps I should start focusing more on what I need to get out instead of what I think you want to see.
Obviously, I have days that are bitchier than others… days on which I can’t avoid throwing caution to the wind and bellowing my caustic, shrill, screech-tastic musings to the four winds.
Hmm… the winds… yea… a storm… I need to reign some fire… I need to call down the thunder… I need to smite with lightning. I need to STOP worrying what everyone is thinking as they read and focus COMPLETELY on how I feel as I’m venting my spleen.
I need a cupcake.
Planning ahead
October 2, 2009
You probably know something’s not right when the biggest plans you have for an upcoming weekend revolve around F-O-O-D.
Mine are definitely spinning that way.
Tomorrow (Saturday) I have a blessedly short workday. Once I am finished with my one appointment at 9am, my plan – thus far – is to stop at Maxine’s Chicken & Waffles on my way home.
I have heard legendary stories of Maxine’s, and I believe it is now time that I find out for myself if the rumors are true.
I have heard that the chicken wings are enormous, the waffles are the yummiest on the planet and the fried green tomatoes will actually cause you to – as they say – “smack your mama”.
Bonus!
Following this gluttonous luncheon, I have dinner plans. A lovely friend and I will be meeting at my favorite Italian restaurant. There WILL be pasta. There WILL be alcahol (mine will come in the form of the most perfect Bellini’s on the planet, while I believe that my counterpart will be partaking of chocolate martinis). And there will most DEFINITELY and without question be…
… wait for it…
… D-E-S-S-E-R-T.
Allow some time for that to sink in.
I believe we need a moment of silence.
Someone get me a tissue.
Is it somehow… umm… “skewed” that I have sexual fantasies regarding zucchini that is breaded so perfectly, fried to such a transcendent crispness and served with a side of cool, lemony aioli that is so refreshing and satisfying it, for a moment, transports you to a place of perfect bliss high in the italian alpine wilderness?
Probably.
But if you touch the zucchini, someone’s losing a finger.
Linguistic cannibalism
October 4, 2009
So I had a great night. Good dinner… good drinks… good friends… CUTE waiter. The service wasn’t the greatest, but he sure looked nice walking away to screw up our order time and again.
Post-dinner, I took myself to a movie: Zombieland.
Ok… first of all, STOP JUDGING ME.
Secondly, it was surprisingly HILARIOUS.
Fairly disgusting, yes, but that was adequately offset by the VERY sassy dark humor. (Woody Harrelson was F-ing fantastic in this movie!)
I intend to use one of his Zombie-isms for many years to come. Just listen for a two-word phrase. The first word is “spit-”, and the last word is NOT “-fire”, but it does begin with an F.
Think about it…
… keep thinkin’…
… THERE IT IS!
From this moment on, all spit-fire’s shall forevermore be known as spit-fu–’s.
I know I’m twisted.
I know I have a dirty mind.
I know I have a warped sense of humor.
Don’t like it?
Bite me.
Ooooh… zombies!! I just wrapped this up with a nice little bow. Ok, now I have an image of zombies with little pink bows atop their scabby brows. That’s more disturbing than the entrails.
Doing my little dance
October 5, 2009
Right this very second, Aerosmith is blasting through my headphones. I kinda wanna shake it.
I FEEL so much graceful than I look, which is not difficult since I don’t look graceful AT ALL. But to me, myself & I, I sometimes forget my too-well-padded self and for a brief, shining moment I am about to set sail across a dance floor and captivate onlookers with my seductive musicality.
Then I remember my… ummm… cumbersome qualities. While I DO have decent rhythm, there is nothing extraordinary about watching me dance. It might inspire a giggle, but that’s about it.
I want to learn the tango. I want to interpret mad argentinian passion with a rose between my teeth whilst I’m wrapped around a devastating and exquisitely built latin gentleman.
I want to dance the rumba so seductively that every man in the room is reduced to tears of fearsome covetousness.
I want to dance the jive to “boogie woogie bugle boy”, and turn to find every jaw agape after watching something so stunning, physically demanding and accomplished.
I want to dance the cha-cha in a short little shredded skirt that doesn’t touch my legs once because I’m spinning so much and so quickly… in a room so hot and so crowded that everyone else has to clear the floor to make room for us… pressing themselves against the walls to make sure they can see every move I make.
I think I was a dancer in a former life. I want to be a dancer in my next life. I’m not quite sure why those two incarnations had to be separated by quite so much… umm… adipose tissue.
Am I making up for all the cupcakes now that I didn’t get to eat in my last lifetime? Hmm… perhaps I should load up to cover the next lifetime as well… just to cover all my karmic bases.
Refocusing
October 5, 2009
Obviously, I’ve been doing alot of talking about food the last few days.
See how I can fixate???
My problems with food don’t just have to do with one issue – like using it for comfort when I’m sad, bolstering myself when I’m depressed or celebrating when I’m happy.
Food is my cure-all. Whatever ails me will be easily fixed with cheesecake, crunchy carrots with ranch dressing, creamy mashed potatoes, turkey tacos, chocolate creme brulee, fresh strawberries and peaches, hot toast with melty butter, steamed artichokes, chicken marsala, scrambled eggs with dill, egg salad with ice cold pickles, turkey club sandwiches, cream cheese pizza with garlic, broccoli and cauliflower…
Don’t kid yourself. I could do this all night. Gettin’ kind of excited actually… and I don’t just mean for food!
“The perfect meal” is my ultimate sexual fantasy. Shouldn’t mindnumbing sex be my ACTUAL sexual fantasy??
And there it is… gotta put the therapist on speed-dial.
Cramming
October 7, 2009
I’m in the midst of frantically learning information for a class this Sunday… a class I have to GIVE.
The topic of study is close to my heart, and one that I have taught previously. This particular class, though, is meant to get more in-depth than I have in the past. I’m hoping against hope that I can learn many rather technical facts in such a way that I appear to be an “expert” come this Sunday.
The class is to last six hours. Yikes. That is a whole lotta time to look stupid if it turns out I got nothin’.
I admit – I procrastinate. I should’ve started earlier than this. I did officially start this past weekend.
I have most of my handouts printed… I think.
Now, it’s just a matter of memorization. We’ll see how my feeble brain handles that.
This could get ugly.
I knew it!
October 8, 2009
What do I want to say tonight?
Here it is:
Love is for SUCKERS! Trust NO ONE!!
Harsh? Absolutely. But I’m feeling harsh at the moment, and not particularly “glass half full” about certain things.
Ok… now… someone prove me wrong.
Cacophany
October 9, 2009
There is so much bouncing off of the walls of my brain at the moment that the din resembles white noise more so than anything that could be reasonably sifted, sorted and labelled.
I have an urge to write, but tonight my problem isn’t so much a case of writer’s block as it is writer’s jam.
One thing I’m currently clear on: Craig Ferguson is a genius. It’s the witching hour, and the glorious Scottish bastard is on my tv. It’s difficult to remember why my writing ambivalence is so wrong when there is some innappropriate late-night humor to be had.
Obviously I don’t have to pull any muscles in my attempt to side-step my creative responsibility.
It’s a great day for America, everybody.
Flop Sweat
October 11, 2009
Remember the class I mentioned a post or two ago? Well, it’s tomorrow. I’m to fill six hours of classtime with what may turn out to be very meager and severely lacking information. There’s really no way to tell how long the whole thing will take until I’ve done it once. These people are paying $100 a pop for their ceu’s, and it’s being presented by a very well known national association.
The class is being listed as “basic”, but what if my version of “basic” is more along the lines of nursery school for 7+ people who’re expecting at least middle school level information???!
I really hope I don’t crash and burn, get black-balled and have to move to another city and change my name. This would then mean that I’ll have to start from scratch and find myself a completely new profession since my birthname is on all of my current national, state and continuing education certifications.
It might inspire me to get a leg up on that college degree I keep saying that I want to finally finish. Well… begin and then finish. I have all of one semester’s credits which may (or may not) still be transferrable.
A lifetime ago, I began my abbreviated college career as a music education major. I had no real interest in teaching music, but I was also too big a chickenshit to major in music performance. Not because, as I was often reminded, “there may not be any future in it”, but because I was terrified of the required solos-in-concert I’d be performing.
Yet more opportunities for me to crash and burn.
Now, I want a major that would be an asset to an aspiring writer: English or Literature, perhaps, and maybe with a minor in creative writing.
The idea (fantasy) of being sucessful enough at writing to be able to comfortably support myself (I did say COMFORTABLY right?) is one of the most appealing things I can think of in life… almost reaching the level of being a successful writer WHILE also living on my beachfront property full of horses WHERE I also live with some stunningly tall, dark and handsome… who happens to avidly worship the ground on which I walk.
Ok… my train of thought has switched tracks.
I started out focused on crashing and burning and now I’m kinda just focused on the burning. Not the antibiotic kind though. Ew. Tall, dark and handsome would of course never know a woman, in the biblical sense, til he found me and could no longer help himself, having found his own personal feminine ideal.
Me! I’M the ideal!
Yeah, ok… you’re right. It’s time to get the hose.
Inevitability
October 12, 2009
The day was good. I gave my class. I filled up most of the required time. I received better than adequate, and – in some cases – glowing reviews from my small student body. And, most importantly, I was paid well!
A good 90% of the time I worry myself into anemia, and things – at least the things that I am in control of – turn out fine. Why do I make myself insane?? Easy answer: habit. And it IS a very deep-seated habit. Will definitely be a tough nut to crack.
But… today is just further proof that my worrisome nature is not so much a warning of things to come as it is my limbic brain cautioning any impending boat-rocking or pot-stirring that – while positive – serves to make changes that my boxed-lunch consciousness is unfamiliar with, therefore WAY uncomfortable with.
Funny how good things can cause such squirmishment.
Yeah, I said “squirmishment”. What… like you don’t make up words?!
Put down thy stone, glass house.
Literacy
October 12, 2009
I just finished a great book: Horseplay by Judy Reene Singer.
If your trouble is a bad marriage, finding your bliss, growing a set or an unnatural love of sarcasm or donuts, READ THIS BOOK.
Personally, I now have an unnatural love for Judy and her novel, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
Take cover. My freak flag is officially flying. Ooh! An anthem. I need an anthem! And my own police force!! Mounted police!!!
And now I think I’m what… Vatican City? Perhaps if the pope were gay, and communion consisted of chocolate milk and snickerdoodles.
Now THAT is some religion I could NOT lose!
Chugga Chugga
October 15, 2009
I don’t want to lose steam! I missed a day in the life of blogging yesterday, and I was nearly about to play slip-n-slide through tonight’s installment.
But then why did I log in to say I have nothing to say? That has to be entertaining to read… color you captivated, right? Although… this is supposed to be an exercise designed to dually strengthen my writing muscle AND weaken my proclivity toward procrastination. I guess the entertainment factor is secondary… sorry dear readers!
Look at me write… here I am writing… God’s gift to the literary world is what I am.
Ok… perhaps some tv time will somehow stimulate my sloggish creative spark?
No, but it will allow me to enjoy my love of doing as little as possible.
Perhaps I should stretch first.
The corners of my mind
October 15, 2009
Yesterday, for the first time, I got a whiff of Chanel No. 5. It smelled to me – don’t ask me why – like cream colored cashmere, 12 inches of snow and Andy Williams crooning festively from a stereo that is perched but a few inches above a rug so thick and deep and soft that one’s feet can’t be seen after one steps onto it… into it.
Now I’m thinking about this rug at Crate & Barrel that I can’t live without. It’s $400, and it’s amazing. Way out of my price range, therefore right smack dab in the center of where my taste lies. It’s the softest thing my feet have ever felt. I c-o-v-e-t it!
It’s strange, yet kind of exciting in an odd way, how random thoughts and assaults on the senses can send you on a trip through your mind to someplace you forgot was there and had no intention of visiting.
For example: eating toast early in the morning is one of the many things that reminds me of my Grandfather. He was an extraordinarily early riser before he retired. I remember waking up so many mornings, going to the bathroom and then tip-toe-ing down the hall to peek into the kitchen and watch him sitting alone at the table with his cereal, toast and coffee.
The morning was so still – not because it was early and no one was up but because Grandpa was there. He was a quiet man, and the best person I’ve ever known. He would have classified himself as Christian if asked about his religious beliefs. He would dutifully go to church with Grandma every Sunday, sit quietly and sing the hymns from memory.
But Grandpa didn’t judge. Even when he was upset about something or when he disagreed about someone else’s completely differing opinion, somehow he managed to do it without judging you for it at all. I wish he’d passed on the secret of how to do that before he passed away.
One of my most vivid memories of him from childhood is standing outside his bedroom door, which was always slightly cracked open, and listening to the whispering. No, Grandpa wasn’t schizophrenic. He was praying. I have to say, I’m not a big fan of Chistians, Christianity or organized religion of any kind really, but… Grandpa was a good Christian. Perhaps the only one to ever have lived in the history of time, but then he was always surprisingly unique in his own way.
He even “trained” a squirrel to eat from his hand. A wild squirrel. And this squirrel got so comfortable that he would come to the back door at dinner time and “knock”. I always expected to look out and see him on the back step with his little arms crossed and a back toe tapping impatiently as he waited for the table scraps to which he obviously felt entitled.
I miss Grandpa. He got me. When I was little, he and I were tight. Very tight. Thick as thieves. Drove Grandma absolutely bananas because she thought Grandpa would let me get away with murder. Close.
My Grandfather is even the one member of my mother’s family that my father still has any respect for at all. (My parents were divorced when I was 16.) And that’s saying an awful lot coming from a guy who looks like he’s the love-child of Archie Bunker and Bobby Knight… except without all the charm and warm fuzzies. My father’s social sensibilities would shock Rush Limbaugh.
I mean that in the nicest way possible of course.
Hello again
October 18, 2009
I can’t believe it’s been three days since I last posted anything! While that is EXACTLY the kind of thing that has to be a HUGE no-no for blogging fanatics, I suppose it’s a good thing that even though I’ve been remiss in my blogging duties, I’ve been thinking non-stop about the blogging I’m not doing ever since my last post.
So while I may STILL be an incurable procrastinator fuelled by apathy and processed sugar, at least I’m starting to feel guilty about it. Babysteps?? How twisted is it that I think I should be rewarded for my insight with a cookie?
I confess that a good portion of my reason for procrastinating this go-round is not ONLY my love of and skill for procrastination itself. I actually have a reasonable excuse this time that has nothing to do with excessive napping, television watching or facebook gaming. I have been veritably tied to a wonderful book all weekend that I just finished this morning: Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger. She is the author of The Time Traveller’s Wife. I loved that book, and – as I knew I would – I love Symmetry as well.
Audrey has a way of writing an impossible story, that anyone would consider a fairytale, into something absolutely considerable, if not completely believable. I will not give anything away, but if you are within sight of my words NOW HERE THIS: you MUST read this book!! If you haven’t read her first book, start there and then immediately begin her second.
I’m experiencing a bit of the depression I always feel upon reaching the end of a book that I’ve truly loved… almost as though I’m fully aware that just yesterday I found the most bosom friend I’ll ever encounter in this lifetime, only to realize that our time together is already now “up” a day later. Audrey’s writing absolutely inspires that bittersweetness.
Other books/series that broke my heart to finish: The God of Animals, The Twilight Saga, Harry Potter, Riding Lessons/Flying Changes, The Dark Series, Fortune’s Rocks, She’s Come Undone, Pride & Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird… yes we could go on and on… I think I MIGHT love books as much as I do food. Who knew that THAT was possible??!
Now about that cookie…
Oops… I did it again…
October 22, 2009
Remember the good ol’ days when I would show up everyday, apprise you of my day’s events OR my mood as the result of my day’s events OR what I wished my day’s events had been in lieu of what the ACTUAL events turned out to be; and then we all went home happy? (Shutup. That’s how the story goes in my head.)
I miss that. I vow, here and now, never to be so lax as to let only two posts cover the better part of a week. (Yes, I’m great at making campaign promises… you’re wondering if I can follow through… I will be happy to answer that after I receive your generous campaign contribution. No complaints! It’s tax deductible!!)
So here’s a little tidbit I can hit you with… today I went to my first therapy appointment. No… not massage therapy. No… not hydrotherapy. No… not cryotherapy. T-H-E-R-A-P-Y. Down-n-dirty, spill-your-guts, run-amok-with-the-feelings therapy. Jesus.
It wasn’t bad. I had anxiety – almost gave myself a panic attack before I walked into the office, but the therapist was very nice. Not even a hint of a Lilith Sternin factor whatsoever. So I made another appointment for two weeks out, and we’ll see what happens. I thought it would be strange: laying out my shit for a “stranger”, but she was very good at making me forget that we’d never met. I can’t say I pried every SINGLE skeleton from the closet, yet. I wasn’t dishonest, but one must pace oneself. I don’t want to frighten HER either.
Wouldn’t it suck if YOU turned out to be the one to finally make your therapist crack under the pressure? They would open their bottle of xanax with trembling fingers and see your face on the childproof cap as they swallowed their daily fistful. That would be very What About Bob?
“I’m sailing!”
My butt hurts
October 23, 2009
I’m sitting at one of my many jobs, waiting on a client and wishing it was already time to leave. I’ve done nothing this afternoon but sit, and wait on people AND MY ASS HURTS! I’m soooo close to chucking this whole work-for-money-and-pay-your-own-bills thing. What are my alternatives?
1. Prostitution. I think I would be the lowest paid prostitute in the history of the world’s oldest profession.
2. Panhandling. My natural belligerence would probably not score me a whole lotta loose change.
3. Cat burglar of the rich and famous. Something tells me that one must be a bit more lithe and graceful than I… perhaps an ability to touch one’s toes… heck SEE one’s toes would be a plus in this endeavor.
I guess that it’s back to the salt mines with a hemorroid pillow.
I’m livin’ the dream, baby!
A dead virus
October 26, 2009
So I’m at work this past Friday afternoon. I’m just about to make my escape when “the big boss” (my boss’s boss) asks me if I’ve had a flu shot.
Of course I haven’t, which I immediately admit.
She asks if I want one.
I him and haw too much, realizing too late that I should have lied when the original question was posed, and she drags me into her office, telling me that I WILL now be receiving my very own syringe full of “dead” influenza.
Tell her what she’s won, boys.
But don’t worry because it IS dead, you understand.
Dead.
My.
Ass.
I was in bed ALL DAY yesterday! I felt awful, and I’m still moderately crap-tastic today.
Whenever people ask me about things like this, and why I don’t normally particiate along with the rest of the herd, I tell them the truth. Again, my mistake, which I always realize far too late.
These lovers of western medicine – these worshippers at the alter of pharmaceutical suppression – then roll their eyes, make some sort of rude noise and explain to me (as they would anyone who was mentally challenged, speaking slowly and using very small words) why I am completely misinformed and should perhaps consider a completely different pill to somehow assist in the management of my dangerously phobic personality.
I’ve always thought most everyone I meet should be medicated and studied. Could it by that I am the common denominator that actually needs her levels checked?
Blimey.
Convergence
October 29, 2009
I just finished another great book: The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown.
Normally, it takes me several pages, if not a chapter or two, before I’m hooked – even into books I end up loving.
This one had me by page four.
I LOVE the way Mr. Brown so thoroughly weaves documented history, proven scientific fact and well-known mythological beliefs into his stories. The fictional aspect is always unable-to-put-down entertaining, and the rest of it is like school! But a school where you WANT to be!
His novels are SO full of knowledge and – subsequently – edifying, that I feel as though I know SO MUCH MORE than I did before I initially cracked the book.
But it isn’t just about what I know now that I didn’t previously. His work always completely unearths at least 1,000 dusty old sociological mindsets and turns them soundly on their ear.
I LOVE THAT.
If you’re not a big fiction reader… heck, if you’re not a big BOOK reader, MAKE AN EXCEPTION! You will be converted into a literary fiend by the time your greedy eyes drip off of the last page.
Trust me.
Come to the dark side… we have books.
Happy Halloweekend
October 30, 2009
I doubt seriously that I will be doing anything spook-tacular for Halloween this year… again.
Every year I have the best of festive intentions to go out and pardy-hardy in a cute costume that is alluring while still somehow managing to be intellectually stimulating. Ok, so perhaps more stimulating and less intellectual, but I know you guys feel me. Substance! Substance above all things! (As long as it’s pink and pretty and doesn’t detract from the focus on ME in any way.)
In any case, it again appears that I will be flaking out. I had some early costume ideas, that I chickened out of exploring. And now I have one final (and very understated) option left open to me. It would require nothing more than a $5 investment on my part. A bonus.
The downside: as a result of the costume’s subtlety, it wouldn’t be instantly noticeable. Then it would of course have to be explained to anyone who cared enough to ask what I was trying to pull off, and wouldn’t that kinda dull some of the magical Halloween spark??
Plus it wouldn’t get me nearly as much attention as say… the whip-wielding, leather-clad dominatrix in the corner.
I want dominatrix level attention.
Have I mentioned that I have attention issues?
I may have.
I see another night of jammies, popcorn and classic horror film in my immediate future.
Have a good weekend out with the ghouls. I’ll be staying in with the undermedicated demons and the closeted skeletons… help me!