I've been trying to figure out what path to take in life lately and feeling really unsettled. I've been majorly let down by people I considered friends, people who I thought were a lot like me. And I find myself pushing people out of my life because they are simply not like me, so I think I shouldn't like them, yet they've done nothing bad directly towards me. I don't consider myself a religious person but thought maybe if I went to church I would receive a message. I was imagining a magical moment where angels would descend and God was going to speak to me directly, in the voice of Morgan Freeman of course. Remarkably I ended up I think getting the message and the clarity I was seeking.
My first message came directly from scripture. Mark 2:3-17, "Jesus Calls Levi and Eats With Sinners
13 Once again Jesus went out beside the lake. A large crowd came to him, and he began to teach them. 14 As he walked along, he saw Levi son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” Jesus told him, and Levi got up and followed him. 15 While Jesus was having dinner at Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with him and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. 16 When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” 17 On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” I had to ask myself, who am I to judge people by actions they do in their lives that do not affect my life directly? Maybe the people I'm pushing away because I think their beliefs or actions can harm me are the people who need me the most, and maybe it's ok to have differences and still love one another? If Jesus can eat with sinners, I can keep keep my "sinners" in my life. None of us are flawless, certainly not me. Maybe I'm the sinner they or someone else will keep in their lives as well someday?
Later in the service I learned my second connected message. The preacher began his sermon with talking about Christopher Knight, a man who is known as the Last True Hermit. Knight went off the grid and lived for 26 years in the forest, the only single word he uttered all that time was "hi" once to a passing hiker. He was only found after he was caught stealing supplies from a campsite. One reporter asked Knight, after all that solitude you really must have been able to find yourself? Knight replied, "I didn't find myself I actually lost myself and my identity." I find myself doing this, I get hurt so I say I'm going to protect myself I won't allow others in, this way nobody can hurt me. I'm not protecting myself I'm harming myself. I'm reminded of CS Lewis and his book The Four Loves where he says, “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
So although Morgan Freeman didn't appear as God and maybe no angels ascended from the ceiling, I think I did have a magical moment today at church and I got exactly what I went there for, clarity. I'm not sure if my interpretation on what was being said today was correct, but I did what everyone does when we hear things, I heard it with my ears and interpreted it with my heart. I'm going to try to be less judgmental and to help those who might need me the most instead of walking. I'm not going to abandon people because it's what others say I should do or because they do things I might not agree with, or even society says is wrong. Life is short turn the drama down and just simply love one another and enjoy life. In the words of Mother Teresa, "People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway. If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway. If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest and frank anyway. What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; Build anyway. If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway. The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; Give the world the best you’ve got anyway. You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God; It was never between you and them anyway."
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Sunday, May 26, 2013
I will name him George, and I will hug him and pet him and squeeze him and love him forever!
Days 8
If you got the above title congratulations you had a charmed childhood or weren’t raised under a rock. If you did not get the reference I’m sorry your childhood sucked and you were probably raised watching cartoons that blow more than a hooker behind a liquor store on the seedy side of town. This title relates to one of my favorite Looney Tune characters, Hugo the Abominable Yeti Snowman. Hugo is a gentle giant who finds Daffy Duck and thinks he’s the cutest little pink rabbit ever, mistaking his pink sleeves for bunny ears. He picks him up and pets him and pats him and damn near squeezes him to death while Daffy screams, I’m not a bunny rabbit! Daffy then does what he does best he throws poor Bugs Bunny under the bus. He offers Hugo a real bunny rabbit if he’ll just put him down, and he leads him to Bugs, who then finds himself suddenly being loved to death by the affectionate beast.
I think I might change my name to Hugo. I already look like him when I wake up most mornings, I might as well make it official. I can put a sign around my neck that says, hi my name is Hugo and I smother people. I don’t smother in a pillow over the head while you sleep psychotic way, but in an overly sweet obsessive perfectionist way. I think wanting to be around your significant other is good, I mean who wants to be in a relationship where you are avoiding the person and can’t stand to be around them? But the all day and all night textathons stop being enduring and become a full time job at some point. When I get into a relationship I want things to be perfect and that’s a good thing, obsessing on it however not such a good thing. So how do you find the right balance between loving someone a lot but not loving them to death?
I was in Denver a few years ago with a boyfriend and we were having problems. He was going through a stressful time in his life and since he couldn’t take his frustration out on most of the people causing it, he would just come home and be mean to me. I was the proverbial dog he got to come home and figuratively kick. I kept trying to make things better overly trying to communicate and be the perfect girlfriend. He kept saying just let me work though this stop trying to talk it to death give me space and time and things will be fine. But I don’t like tension or week long grudges, I wanted things fixed immediately and I kept excessively trying, and it was just pushing him further and further away. I’m sure the right thing to do would've been to find a healthy middle ground between too much space and too much communication, but we were both stubborn and not willing to budge. One day in Denver things were especially tense so I went out exploring on my own to give him some space and happened across an art festival. I wondered into this photographer’s booth who travels the world taking pictures of extravagant graffiti. I was drawn to this picture of a big red brick wall on it was this giant hunched over a tiny little sprout. His one hand was tucked under his chin like he was waiting and pondering something, the other hand was poking at this small root poking through the ground. I asked the artist why it was the only picture that didn’t have a title scribbled on photo mat. He said if I gave him $65 I could name it whatever I wanted. I only collect art that has personal meaning and I had to have this piece of art because I’ve never seen a piece with more meaning. Metaphorically I was this giant, and the tiny sprout was all of my relationships. I gave him $65 and we named the piece “Nurture vs. Smother” which he wrote in pencil on the white mat. You can’t tell if this humongous humanoid was protecting the cultivation of the little bud or overwhelming its development to death.
I’m learning the perfect relationship is as fictional as the Abominable Yeti Snowmen and giants hunched over sprouting vegetation. I’ve probably lost a few relationships by trying to make things too perfect. I’m learning to let go of my perfectionist tendencies, because things can still work even if they are flawed. In fact sometimes blemishes in a relationship are beautiful and make you appreciate the strengths you share even more. Wanting to be with someone all the time is a good sign that person likes you, but autonomy is also good and a healthy part of a relationship. Independence shows that person is stable and doesn’t need a relationship, they want a relationship. I’m going to stop being some monstrous ogre smotherer and become a cute little pixie nymph nurturer instead in future relationships. Because nobody likes a clingy beastly bitch, unpretentious little fairies are far more desirable.
If you got the above title congratulations you had a charmed childhood or weren’t raised under a rock. If you did not get the reference I’m sorry your childhood sucked and you were probably raised watching cartoons that blow more than a hooker behind a liquor store on the seedy side of town. This title relates to one of my favorite Looney Tune characters, Hugo the Abominable Yeti Snowman. Hugo is a gentle giant who finds Daffy Duck and thinks he’s the cutest little pink rabbit ever, mistaking his pink sleeves for bunny ears. He picks him up and pets him and pats him and damn near squeezes him to death while Daffy screams, I’m not a bunny rabbit! Daffy then does what he does best he throws poor Bugs Bunny under the bus. He offers Hugo a real bunny rabbit if he’ll just put him down, and he leads him to Bugs, who then finds himself suddenly being loved to death by the affectionate beast.
I think I might change my name to Hugo. I already look like him when I wake up most mornings, I might as well make it official. I can put a sign around my neck that says, hi my name is Hugo and I smother people. I don’t smother in a pillow over the head while you sleep psychotic way, but in an overly sweet obsessive perfectionist way. I think wanting to be around your significant other is good, I mean who wants to be in a relationship where you are avoiding the person and can’t stand to be around them? But the all day and all night textathons stop being enduring and become a full time job at some point. When I get into a relationship I want things to be perfect and that’s a good thing, obsessing on it however not such a good thing. So how do you find the right balance between loving someone a lot but not loving them to death?
I was in Denver a few years ago with a boyfriend and we were having problems. He was going through a stressful time in his life and since he couldn’t take his frustration out on most of the people causing it, he would just come home and be mean to me. I was the proverbial dog he got to come home and figuratively kick. I kept trying to make things better overly trying to communicate and be the perfect girlfriend. He kept saying just let me work though this stop trying to talk it to death give me space and time and things will be fine. But I don’t like tension or week long grudges, I wanted things fixed immediately and I kept excessively trying, and it was just pushing him further and further away. I’m sure the right thing to do would've been to find a healthy middle ground between too much space and too much communication, but we were both stubborn and not willing to budge. One day in Denver things were especially tense so I went out exploring on my own to give him some space and happened across an art festival. I wondered into this photographer’s booth who travels the world taking pictures of extravagant graffiti. I was drawn to this picture of a big red brick wall on it was this giant hunched over a tiny little sprout. His one hand was tucked under his chin like he was waiting and pondering something, the other hand was poking at this small root poking through the ground. I asked the artist why it was the only picture that didn’t have a title scribbled on photo mat. He said if I gave him $65 I could name it whatever I wanted. I only collect art that has personal meaning and I had to have this piece of art because I’ve never seen a piece with more meaning. Metaphorically I was this giant, and the tiny sprout was all of my relationships. I gave him $65 and we named the piece “Nurture vs. Smother” which he wrote in pencil on the white mat. You can’t tell if this humongous humanoid was protecting the cultivation of the little bud or overwhelming its development to death.
I’m learning the perfect relationship is as fictional as the Abominable Yeti Snowmen and giants hunched over sprouting vegetation. I’ve probably lost a few relationships by trying to make things too perfect. I’m learning to let go of my perfectionist tendencies, because things can still work even if they are flawed. In fact sometimes blemishes in a relationship are beautiful and make you appreciate the strengths you share even more. Wanting to be with someone all the time is a good sign that person likes you, but autonomy is also good and a healthy part of a relationship. Independence shows that person is stable and doesn’t need a relationship, they want a relationship. I’m going to stop being some monstrous ogre smotherer and become a cute little pixie nymph nurturer instead in future relationships. Because nobody likes a clingy beastly bitch, unpretentious little fairies are far more desirable.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
If you can’t kill them with kindness kill them with an axe
Day 7
I’m too fucking nice, especially to douchebags who don’t deserve my kindness. I swear the meaner someone is to me the nicer I am sometimes. You know the dogs at the pound who were abused and once adopted tend to be the biggest attention whores? That is me, I am the human form of those dogs. Ignore me and I don’t go away, I just try harder. Someone could hit me with their car in anger and I’d probably ask them if I did any damage to their bumper as I was being loaded into the ambulance.
Want proof? Three guys have lived with me in my home in the past four years. By the way you’re only officially a slut if the number of guys exceeds the number of years, that’s the officially equation from the American Mathematical Society (AMS), therefore my address is officially NOT Trampville, USA. Although I was in a romantic relationship with all three at some point and time, all three had agreed to pay rent to live in my home. All three at some point stopped paying rent to live in my home, and all three didn’t seem to think this was a problem because I was too sympathetic and shy to demand they do the right thing. That’s me the landlord/girlfriend shrinking violet simpatico of the house on Freeloader Lane, please wipe your feet on me as you enter my home.
I swear I really am a big ooey gooey ball of sweetness, which is why I’m surprised when after getting to know me people often say when they first met me they thought I was a bitch. I think people confuse my shyness with snootiness, but as soon as they realize the difference they walk all over me. And if you’re going to walk all over me like a rug, the least you can do is lay down on me once in while naked. It’s true I can be very shy. I’ll sit there I take and take the abuse until it builds up like a pressure cooker and I blow! That is when benevolence turns to violence. I’ll throw a large jar candle at aimed at a head, insult mommas, go for the jugular, muddy a reputation, and reduce a grown man to tears. I can be a real bitch when I’m not busy being too nice.
Sometimes being too nice is hazardous. I have discovered the danger in life is being "too" anything, it’s all about finding balance. From here on out I vow to be assertive yet not arrogant. I’ll give with all my heart, but I won’t give all my heart away. I will give only as much as I get. I will stop being nice until it hurts.
I’m too fucking nice, especially to douchebags who don’t deserve my kindness. I swear the meaner someone is to me the nicer I am sometimes. You know the dogs at the pound who were abused and once adopted tend to be the biggest attention whores? That is me, I am the human form of those dogs. Ignore me and I don’t go away, I just try harder. Someone could hit me with their car in anger and I’d probably ask them if I did any damage to their bumper as I was being loaded into the ambulance.
Want proof? Three guys have lived with me in my home in the past four years. By the way you’re only officially a slut if the number of guys exceeds the number of years, that’s the officially equation from the American Mathematical Society (AMS), therefore my address is officially NOT Trampville, USA. Although I was in a romantic relationship with all three at some point and time, all three had agreed to pay rent to live in my home. All three at some point stopped paying rent to live in my home, and all three didn’t seem to think this was a problem because I was too sympathetic and shy to demand they do the right thing. That’s me the landlord/girlfriend shrinking violet simpatico of the house on Freeloader Lane, please wipe your feet on me as you enter my home.
I swear I really am a big ooey gooey ball of sweetness, which is why I’m surprised when after getting to know me people often say when they first met me they thought I was a bitch. I think people confuse my shyness with snootiness, but as soon as they realize the difference they walk all over me. And if you’re going to walk all over me like a rug, the least you can do is lay down on me once in while naked. It’s true I can be very shy. I’ll sit there I take and take the abuse until it builds up like a pressure cooker and I blow! That is when benevolence turns to violence. I’ll throw a large jar candle at aimed at a head, insult mommas, go for the jugular, muddy a reputation, and reduce a grown man to tears. I can be a real bitch when I’m not busy being too nice.
Sometimes being too nice is hazardous. I have discovered the danger in life is being "too" anything, it’s all about finding balance. From here on out I vow to be assertive yet not arrogant. I’ll give with all my heart, but I won’t give all my heart away. I will give only as much as I get. I will stop being nice until it hurts.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
I don't think we're naturally lazy, I just think we don't set goals that light our asses on fire.
DAY 6
Maybe I'm not lazy, maybe I just have weak goals? No, I've definitely been lazy and sit on my ass far too much. Not to say relaxing isn't good for the soul sometime, but if your ass is growing roots to the sofa and you leave the house to get food more than you do to be active it's time to change. In fact I'm sitting on my ass right now typing this. Although I haven't seen many people run marathons or climb mountains while typing. Speaking of feats of physicality, I think the more I get into shape and gain my confidence the less I'll feel like being a shut-in. But I have to quit acting like an invalid in order to get into shape and gain my confidence. When I was a teenager I read the Joseph Heller novel Catch-22. I always heard the expression catch-22 and had a vague understanding of its meaning, but wanted to really make the term clear as mud so I read the book. The premise of phrase comes from the Army clause-22 which states, any pilot wishing not to fly on grounds of insanity must request a mental evaluation, any pilot requesting a mental evaluation is showing concern for their safety and therefore sane and must continue to fly. The cliché has come to basically mean you're damned if you do and you’re damned if you don't!
I think I laze around because I feel I either cannot obtain my goals or because I think I'll fail and/or quit (see earlier day about quitting). I'm a perfectionist so failure isn't an option I want to face. If I refuse to attempt things out of fear of failing or I quit before I fail, aren't I in a roundabout way failing? So do I attempt and fail or not even try and technically not fail but not obtain my goal either? Damned if I do damned if I don't. What about just removing the option of failure? Or what if I stop setting such high goals? I always believed if you're going to do something be the best and don't half-ass it. Maybe that's not always the best advice if it's just going to stop you from trying and make you be lazy caught in a cycle of catch-22s. What if I say I'll try and whatever I get out of trying that's my accomplishment. Instead of saying I have to be a perfectionist and go to the gym and look like a super model, maybe I can just say I'm going to work out five day a week and look pretty fantastic in a few months. Working out after all is a science and not a miracle, if you do it you will look better than if you don't work out.
I'm not saying one should lower their standards. Hell I'm the girl who usually only dates guys who look like tens when half the time I feel like a four. Either I date cute boys with visual impairments, or I don't give myself the credit I deserve. I have also yet to find a gorgeous AND nice guy. I'm not saying he doesn't exist, I'm just saying him and Santa Claus are riding their unicorns over to the Tooth Fairy's house for a visit before he comes to meet me. Again I set unrealistic goals, I think there is a happy median somewhere in this equation. Maybe instead of running any guy I date against some checklist of what I envision the perfect man being, I should work backwards and look at the checklist of qualities he already comes with and see if they are things I can appreciate? While working out is a science and not a miracle, dating and attraction seems to be a miracle and not a science.
Let’s take an inventory of what we've learned: 1) Life is full of catch-22 damned if you do and damned if you don't moments. 2) Not everything is going to light a fire under your ass sometimes you might be lazy and that's ok, as long as it's not too often 3) When you are feeling too lazy reexamine your goals and see what is too unrealistic about them. 4) My perfect man is probably banging that slut the Tooth Fairy having a three-way with her and Santa, because I'm still sitting here on my ass waiting for him to show up!
Maybe I'm not lazy, maybe I just have weak goals? No, I've definitely been lazy and sit on my ass far too much. Not to say relaxing isn't good for the soul sometime, but if your ass is growing roots to the sofa and you leave the house to get food more than you do to be active it's time to change. In fact I'm sitting on my ass right now typing this. Although I haven't seen many people run marathons or climb mountains while typing. Speaking of feats of physicality, I think the more I get into shape and gain my confidence the less I'll feel like being a shut-in. But I have to quit acting like an invalid in order to get into shape and gain my confidence. When I was a teenager I read the Joseph Heller novel Catch-22. I always heard the expression catch-22 and had a vague understanding of its meaning, but wanted to really make the term clear as mud so I read the book. The premise of phrase comes from the Army clause-22 which states, any pilot wishing not to fly on grounds of insanity must request a mental evaluation, any pilot requesting a mental evaluation is showing concern for their safety and therefore sane and must continue to fly. The cliché has come to basically mean you're damned if you do and you’re damned if you don't!
I think I laze around because I feel I either cannot obtain my goals or because I think I'll fail and/or quit (see earlier day about quitting). I'm a perfectionist so failure isn't an option I want to face. If I refuse to attempt things out of fear of failing or I quit before I fail, aren't I in a roundabout way failing? So do I attempt and fail or not even try and technically not fail but not obtain my goal either? Damned if I do damned if I don't. What about just removing the option of failure? Or what if I stop setting such high goals? I always believed if you're going to do something be the best and don't half-ass it. Maybe that's not always the best advice if it's just going to stop you from trying and make you be lazy caught in a cycle of catch-22s. What if I say I'll try and whatever I get out of trying that's my accomplishment. Instead of saying I have to be a perfectionist and go to the gym and look like a super model, maybe I can just say I'm going to work out five day a week and look pretty fantastic in a few months. Working out after all is a science and not a miracle, if you do it you will look better than if you don't work out.
I'm not saying one should lower their standards. Hell I'm the girl who usually only dates guys who look like tens when half the time I feel like a four. Either I date cute boys with visual impairments, or I don't give myself the credit I deserve. I have also yet to find a gorgeous AND nice guy. I'm not saying he doesn't exist, I'm just saying him and Santa Claus are riding their unicorns over to the Tooth Fairy's house for a visit before he comes to meet me. Again I set unrealistic goals, I think there is a happy median somewhere in this equation. Maybe instead of running any guy I date against some checklist of what I envision the perfect man being, I should work backwards and look at the checklist of qualities he already comes with and see if they are things I can appreciate? While working out is a science and not a miracle, dating and attraction seems to be a miracle and not a science.
Let’s take an inventory of what we've learned: 1) Life is full of catch-22 damned if you do and damned if you don't moments. 2) Not everything is going to light a fire under your ass sometimes you might be lazy and that's ok, as long as it's not too often 3) When you are feeling too lazy reexamine your goals and see what is too unrealistic about them. 4) My perfect man is probably banging that slut the Tooth Fairy having a three-way with her and Santa, because I'm still sitting here on my ass waiting for him to show up!
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
The smile of one angel exceeds the praise of ten-thousand demons, I think I saw that written on a box somewhere?
DAY 5
Today I am working on relabeling. I remember moving a few years ago into my current place. I was moving out of a place that held a lot of bad memories and I couldn't wait to start over. I threw out tons, but still ended up like most moves having to pack a lot of boxes. At first I was very neat and organized labeling each box with detail and care. By the last day one of the things I hadn't packed yet was my bar and I thought to myself, that's way too much booze to pack! I did what any sensible mover would do I invited a friend over and I started drinking and packing. This is my version of killing two birds with one stone. By the end of that day half due to the consumption of too much alcohol and half due to the fact that I was tired of packing, I stopped packing with detail and care and started to label boxes "random shit" and "who the fuck cares!?!?" These let's call them "miscellaneous" mislabeled boxes were often the last ones I would look to when I couldn't find things unpacking. The coffee mugs were easy to find, they were in a box labeled glassware with the subheading coffee mugs, I obviously packed them sober and first. Anyone see the measuring cups? I don't know check the "random shit" box, I obviously packed these inebriated and last, and let's face it measuring cups ARE pretty random.
I've noticed I label things the same way in my life and in my mind. Some things are correctly labeled and easy to identify. I'm very certain with my career. I know my job and I know how to do it well, "teach kids effectively and make it as fun as possible". My students for the most part are successful in my class and seem to like me so I think I hit the mark. I'm clear with my responsibilities as a pet owner, "feed the dog, love him, take care of his needs, and keep him alive". He just turned fourteen so I'm doing that well too. Now with my private life I mislabel things. Take for instance my relationship with His Nibs this past year, I labeled that "I'm hooked on trying to get something I know I'll never get the way I want it". I knew who/what he was and that he was incapable of giving me a life and love the way I wanted it. He gave me love and we had a life, but it wasn't what I wanted, and I kept telling myself I could change it all eventually. I made excuses for things and turned a blind eye to other things I didn't want to accept. I thought the show couldn't last forever, and eventually the women and fame would go away and he would become normal and (POOF! insert magic fairy with her friggin' magical fairy dust) we would have some "regular" life. Where are you friggin' magical fairy? She's not coming, she doesn't exist, and neither does that pipe dream...I just mislabeled the damn box. I should have labeled that one "not going to happen, it's a no win". Had I done that I would have lived my past year knowing my fantasy of a normal life would never happen with him and I would have saved myself fifty boxes full of heartache.
Speaking of "no wins" I think His Nibs was my toy in one of those Claw/Crane games. You know what I'm talking about, those stupid machines in the entrance of every Walmart and grocery store across America. We've all seen and had to have some stupid toy just because it looked like you could totally hook it, and all for a quarter! Twenty bucks later you walk out and you still don't have the toy, because those games are designed NOT TO WIN. The hooks are too weak, and the toys are too heavy, the odds are always for you to fail. In reality the toy isn't worth what you put into the machine, and for twenty bucks you could have bought a toy you'd much rather have over the junk you were trying to win. Even if you by luck snag the toy, it's usually not as awesome as you thought it was when it was on the other side of the glass and the thrill is gone shortly after you get the "prize". I'm not slamming His Nibs entirely, I'm just saying I was "hooked" (excuse the pun...and for those of you who know him understand the duality of this pun) on the fact that I wanted to win something that was supposed to be "unattainable" and in reality my time and effort would have been better spent on obtaining something/someone I really wanted who wasn't some cheap toy.
So hand me a Sharpie I'm relabeling things with detail and care! I'm sorting out these boxes in my head and making sure I don't have things mislabeled, and I'm throwing out the junk I don't need anymore, like toys won from the "Claw Crane". A mind that lacks clarity creates chaos and frustration, and in the words of Brown Sugar, "ain't nobody got time for that"!
Today I am working on relabeling. I remember moving a few years ago into my current place. I was moving out of a place that held a lot of bad memories and I couldn't wait to start over. I threw out tons, but still ended up like most moves having to pack a lot of boxes. At first I was very neat and organized labeling each box with detail and care. By the last day one of the things I hadn't packed yet was my bar and I thought to myself, that's way too much booze to pack! I did what any sensible mover would do I invited a friend over and I started drinking and packing. This is my version of killing two birds with one stone. By the end of that day half due to the consumption of too much alcohol and half due to the fact that I was tired of packing, I stopped packing with detail and care and started to label boxes "random shit" and "who the fuck cares!?!?" These let's call them "miscellaneous" mislabeled boxes were often the last ones I would look to when I couldn't find things unpacking. The coffee mugs were easy to find, they were in a box labeled glassware with the subheading coffee mugs, I obviously packed them sober and first. Anyone see the measuring cups? I don't know check the "random shit" box, I obviously packed these inebriated and last, and let's face it measuring cups ARE pretty random.
I've noticed I label things the same way in my life and in my mind. Some things are correctly labeled and easy to identify. I'm very certain with my career. I know my job and I know how to do it well, "teach kids effectively and make it as fun as possible". My students for the most part are successful in my class and seem to like me so I think I hit the mark. I'm clear with my responsibilities as a pet owner, "feed the dog, love him, take care of his needs, and keep him alive". He just turned fourteen so I'm doing that well too. Now with my private life I mislabel things. Take for instance my relationship with His Nibs this past year, I labeled that "I'm hooked on trying to get something I know I'll never get the way I want it". I knew who/what he was and that he was incapable of giving me a life and love the way I wanted it. He gave me love and we had a life, but it wasn't what I wanted, and I kept telling myself I could change it all eventually. I made excuses for things and turned a blind eye to other things I didn't want to accept. I thought the show couldn't last forever, and eventually the women and fame would go away and he would become normal and (POOF! insert magic fairy with her friggin' magical fairy dust) we would have some "regular" life. Where are you friggin' magical fairy? She's not coming, she doesn't exist, and neither does that pipe dream...I just mislabeled the damn box. I should have labeled that one "not going to happen, it's a no win". Had I done that I would have lived my past year knowing my fantasy of a normal life would never happen with him and I would have saved myself fifty boxes full of heartache.
Speaking of "no wins" I think His Nibs was my toy in one of those Claw/Crane games. You know what I'm talking about, those stupid machines in the entrance of every Walmart and grocery store across America. We've all seen and had to have some stupid toy just because it looked like you could totally hook it, and all for a quarter! Twenty bucks later you walk out and you still don't have the toy, because those games are designed NOT TO WIN. The hooks are too weak, and the toys are too heavy, the odds are always for you to fail. In reality the toy isn't worth what you put into the machine, and for twenty bucks you could have bought a toy you'd much rather have over the junk you were trying to win. Even if you by luck snag the toy, it's usually not as awesome as you thought it was when it was on the other side of the glass and the thrill is gone shortly after you get the "prize". I'm not slamming His Nibs entirely, I'm just saying I was "hooked" (excuse the pun...and for those of you who know him understand the duality of this pun) on the fact that I wanted to win something that was supposed to be "unattainable" and in reality my time and effort would have been better spent on obtaining something/someone I really wanted who wasn't some cheap toy.
So hand me a Sharpie I'm relabeling things with detail and care! I'm sorting out these boxes in my head and making sure I don't have things mislabeled, and I'm throwing out the junk I don't need anymore, like toys won from the "Claw Crane". A mind that lacks clarity creates chaos and frustration, and in the words of Brown Sugar, "ain't nobody got time for that"!
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Serendipity is when you find things you weren't looking for because finding what you are looking for is so damned difficult.
ser·en·dip·i·ty
/ˌserənˈdipitē
adj.
1. The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident.
2. The fact or occurrence of such discoveries.
3. An instance of making such a discovery.
How serendipitous I stumbled across my old blog EXACTLY three years to the day of my last post. I remembered writing this blog but for the life of me couldn't find the link to it over the last three years. Not until another person sent me a link to their blog and magically it showed I too had a blog account in the upper right hand corner of the page was I magically linked to my long lost blog. I'll take this as a sign that the universe wants me to use this as a form of catharsis and write again, and I'm learning to never question what the universe tells me I should do. I started this blog as a way of turning my life around and how ironic (or using the wondrous word serendipitous again) is it that I stumble across it right at a point of my life I really NEED TO change directions in life!
I reviewed my old posts and I pulled a "Day 4"...I'm a big fat quitter! I quit gymnastics, T-ball, a few relationships, and now fuck me in my space boots walking I'm blog quitter (still no black eyes)! I have no reasons for quitting the blog so I'll offer none, but I intend to pick up where I left off after a brief recap of the past three years: I failed at all my goals and I sorta suck, the end. I guess I'm not a total failure. I've had my ups and downs, but obviously from where I sit here typing I haven't managed to make my life a screaming success. I managed to get another degree, which has only kept me teaching because I'm too afraid to take a chance and do something else. I've had a few relationships, no one liked it enough to put a ring on it. I even managed to live with a TV star for the past year, who after a year of living in a bubble of ignorant bliss it was revealed he basically used his D-list celebrity status, minimal good looks and charm to con older rich women into giving him massive amounts of money all of which he did unsavory things with and left with a bang leaving me with the mind fuck of the century. I really don't want to focus on him because this blog is about personal growth, but from here on out if I do reference him I shall reference him by the name "His Nibs." It was a name given to him by one of his former sugar mommas and I must say is the most fitting name I've ever heard of describing him, so here I will insert my second definition of this blog:
His Nibs
Someone who gives a command or makes a demand, often one who acts in a self-important manner, sometimes one with authority; - used mockingly as a jocose term, as if a title of honor, but not usually in the presence of the person referred to, and usually indicating resentment or contempt.
But enough about yesterday's trash for now, let's focus on tomorrow's treasure. After reviewing my blogs it looks like I have a ways to go to become the girl I want to be mind, body, and spirit...and sadly I would still classify myself as "the throw away girl" but I still have faith in becoming the "keeper girl". Luckily for me I quit this blog early on Day 4(I told you I'm efficient at quitting) which according to the title of the blog(let me crack out my calculator)means I have 356 days to turn my life around and do a full 180!
Ready, set, go bitches!
/ˌserənˈdipitē
adj.
1. The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident.
2. The fact or occurrence of such discoveries.
3. An instance of making such a discovery.
How serendipitous I stumbled across my old blog EXACTLY three years to the day of my last post. I remembered writing this blog but for the life of me couldn't find the link to it over the last three years. Not until another person sent me a link to their blog and magically it showed I too had a blog account in the upper right hand corner of the page was I magically linked to my long lost blog. I'll take this as a sign that the universe wants me to use this as a form of catharsis and write again, and I'm learning to never question what the universe tells me I should do. I started this blog as a way of turning my life around and how ironic (or using the wondrous word serendipitous again) is it that I stumble across it right at a point of my life I really NEED TO change directions in life!
I reviewed my old posts and I pulled a "Day 4"...I'm a big fat quitter! I quit gymnastics, T-ball, a few relationships, and now fuck me in my space boots walking I'm blog quitter (still no black eyes)! I have no reasons for quitting the blog so I'll offer none, but I intend to pick up where I left off after a brief recap of the past three years: I failed at all my goals and I sorta suck, the end. I guess I'm not a total failure. I've had my ups and downs, but obviously from where I sit here typing I haven't managed to make my life a screaming success. I managed to get another degree, which has only kept me teaching because I'm too afraid to take a chance and do something else. I've had a few relationships, no one liked it enough to put a ring on it. I even managed to live with a TV star for the past year, who after a year of living in a bubble of ignorant bliss it was revealed he basically used his D-list celebrity status, minimal good looks and charm to con older rich women into giving him massive amounts of money all of which he did unsavory things with and left with a bang leaving me with the mind fuck of the century. I really don't want to focus on him because this blog is about personal growth, but from here on out if I do reference him I shall reference him by the name "His Nibs." It was a name given to him by one of his former sugar mommas and I must say is the most fitting name I've ever heard of describing him, so here I will insert my second definition of this blog:
His Nibs
Someone who gives a command or makes a demand, often one who acts in a self-important manner, sometimes one with authority; - used mockingly as a jocose term, as if a title of honor, but not usually in the presence of the person referred to, and usually indicating resentment or contempt.
But enough about yesterday's trash for now, let's focus on tomorrow's treasure. After reviewing my blogs it looks like I have a ways to go to become the girl I want to be mind, body, and spirit...and sadly I would still classify myself as "the throw away girl" but I still have faith in becoming the "keeper girl". Luckily for me I quit this blog early on Day 4(I told you I'm efficient at quitting) which according to the title of the blog(let me crack out my calculator)means I have 356 days to turn my life around and do a full 180!
Ready, set, go bitches!
Friday, May 14, 2010
Pile up too many tomorrows and you'll find that you've collected nothing but a bunch of empty yesterdays. ~The Music Man
DAY 4
Sorry this is a day late, I had to deal with my my ovaries splitting in half *See update for explanation*
I used to obsess on my health. I was practically a hypochondriac. I think it was something that caused problems in my marriage. I had a therapist once tell me that I was so unhappy in my marriage that my hidden nervousness and despair appeared in my anxious behavior over my health. I thought he was full of it, until I noticed as soon as I got divorced I didn’t obsess over every little ailment. I was instantly cured of my hypochondria, and I had no idea when or how it happened. My next obsession was having a “normal” life. I had to get remarried, have kids, and do the “normal” thing. Eventually over time (especially lately), I’ve been asking myself why is that so normal and why do I feel I need it? I’m actually happy alone. This doesn’t mean I don’t want to eventually share my life with the right person, it just means I’m ok being alone too. Life is peaceful alone, and not entirely lonely or terrible. I’m happy I finally feel this way; I think it will allow me to only open my life to the right man, and not force an unhealthy situation. Again this happened instantly with no explanation, it’s like the light just finally flashed on and I understood and was content.
The same goes for kids, I spent my entire life wanting a family to the point I obsessed over it, and one day woke up and asked myself why? I spend a majority of my time around teenagers and honestly they’re a pain in the ass! Before they’re obnoxious teens they’re unbearable babies. As babies, they’re cute and all; but they cry, they keep you up all night, they can’t communicate so if they’re sick I’d be a nervous wreck, and most of all they shit their pants. None of that sounds rewarding or fun. Then they become teenagers; they become mouthy brats, you have to teach them how to drive, they cost you a ton of money, they fail all their classes, become apathetic assholes with an attitude with no sense of direction, and they’re clueless about their futures. Again how does this make someone feel rewarded and happy? The older I get the more the idea of having a baby over kick ass vacations and other luxury items, doesn’t really turn me on.
I used to get annoyed with people who would say they live in the here and now. I was like what a bunch of hippie nonsense. To me these were lazy people who were too careless to plan for the future. I needed to have my future all planned out and ready to go. This planning brought me nothing but disappointment and heartache. For the past two years I have been doing too much of two things, I’ve obsessed over the past and obsessed over the future, the whole time I have stopped enjoying the present. I have spent most of my life trying to either relive the past or make a future exist before it arrives; I have finally realized that in between these two extremes is the peace I’ve been seeking. So the problem is, I obsess over things I cannot control. The solution is, to stop worrying about things I cannot change and just enjoy the present.
Update: I challenged myself to do something I thought I could not succeed at, so I took a Spin class. I took one over a year ago, and thought I was going to have a coronary before I got to my car. I did my best and I got through the class! I’m not going to say I went balls to the wall and kept up the entire time, but I made it through the class. By the time I was done I think my ovaries had split in two and some serious damage was done, but g’dammit I didn’t quit! Looks like I don’t have to worry about having those kids after all.
Sorry this is a day late, I had to deal with my my ovaries splitting in half *See update for explanation*
I used to obsess on my health. I was practically a hypochondriac. I think it was something that caused problems in my marriage. I had a therapist once tell me that I was so unhappy in my marriage that my hidden nervousness and despair appeared in my anxious behavior over my health. I thought he was full of it, until I noticed as soon as I got divorced I didn’t obsess over every little ailment. I was instantly cured of my hypochondria, and I had no idea when or how it happened. My next obsession was having a “normal” life. I had to get remarried, have kids, and do the “normal” thing. Eventually over time (especially lately), I’ve been asking myself why is that so normal and why do I feel I need it? I’m actually happy alone. This doesn’t mean I don’t want to eventually share my life with the right person, it just means I’m ok being alone too. Life is peaceful alone, and not entirely lonely or terrible. I’m happy I finally feel this way; I think it will allow me to only open my life to the right man, and not force an unhealthy situation. Again this happened instantly with no explanation, it’s like the light just finally flashed on and I understood and was content.
The same goes for kids, I spent my entire life wanting a family to the point I obsessed over it, and one day woke up and asked myself why? I spend a majority of my time around teenagers and honestly they’re a pain in the ass! Before they’re obnoxious teens they’re unbearable babies. As babies, they’re cute and all; but they cry, they keep you up all night, they can’t communicate so if they’re sick I’d be a nervous wreck, and most of all they shit their pants. None of that sounds rewarding or fun. Then they become teenagers; they become mouthy brats, you have to teach them how to drive, they cost you a ton of money, they fail all their classes, become apathetic assholes with an attitude with no sense of direction, and they’re clueless about their futures. Again how does this make someone feel rewarded and happy? The older I get the more the idea of having a baby over kick ass vacations and other luxury items, doesn’t really turn me on.
I used to get annoyed with people who would say they live in the here and now. I was like what a bunch of hippie nonsense. To me these were lazy people who were too careless to plan for the future. I needed to have my future all planned out and ready to go. This planning brought me nothing but disappointment and heartache. For the past two years I have been doing too much of two things, I’ve obsessed over the past and obsessed over the future, the whole time I have stopped enjoying the present. I have spent most of my life trying to either relive the past or make a future exist before it arrives; I have finally realized that in between these two extremes is the peace I’ve been seeking. So the problem is, I obsess over things I cannot control. The solution is, to stop worrying about things I cannot change and just enjoy the present.
Update: I challenged myself to do something I thought I could not succeed at, so I took a Spin class. I took one over a year ago, and thought I was going to have a coronary before I got to my car. I did my best and I got through the class! I’m not going to say I went balls to the wall and kept up the entire time, but I made it through the class. By the time I was done I think my ovaries had split in two and some serious damage was done, but g’dammit I didn’t quit! Looks like I don’t have to worry about having those kids after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
