Tuesday, August 31, 2004
I was at the pool a few days ago and had to laugh at this girl who was there, laying out in the sun while yakking on her cell phone the whole time. No, I would do it too (if I had a cell phone), what I was laughing at was picturing her face with a small rectangular cell phone tanned in it. Now THAT would be amusing.
odd moment of sorrow
Today my son and I are running errands, and I'm listening to the Greatful Dead. The song "Fire on the Mountain" comes on and I think of how I loved that song, then suddenly flash to actually watching a fire on the mountain one night over a year ago.
Me, my son, and my X had gone to Wal-Mart one night. As we came out, we noticed one of the most bizarre things I'd seen: there was a fire up on the far ridge of Beaucatcher Mountiain. Not a fire like a blazing bonfire...no, this was a snaking line that wound it's way up the mountainside, a bizarre red blazing wiggle up a pitch black mountain.
We just sat there in the truck, in the parking lot, staring up at it. From where we were, the details of a darkened mountin were invisible except for where the fire was making it's gradual way, at which point the details were suddenly lit up, then engulfed. And there was this weird mix of emotion, because you know it's killing animals and causing untold chaos to the forest critters, and people could have homes up there somewhere, and at the same time it's so wickedly awesome to watch....
Anyway, I'm driving down the road remembering this and suddenly tear up. I am very sad, for the first time in a long time, about the break up with the X. Why, I am not really sure. I certainly don't miss him and the terribly way he treated me.
Thinking.... I would have to say I miss being friends. As a boyfriend, he sucked, but as a friend he was a hilarious. It's weird, though, because the few times we have talked in the last month or two it's very strained and weird; he knows I'm with someone new and have moved on. He wishes we were back together. Alas for him.
What is also sad is that he has finally taken the plunge and gone on antidepressants. He said they're working and he barely drinks at all anymore. He doesn't really want to, he says. Which is 99% the cause of all we had ever argued about, ever. He just did totally retarded shit when he drank. The funniest one was when I watched him piss on the bedroom door while staring right at me and arguing with me, "Don't worry, I got it!" (Yah, you're about to get it, my foot up your ass, that is...) and then passed out cold in the hallway, pants around his knees, ass up in the air, only to wake up in a few minutes and argue with me about how he's so sorry (total sarcasm dripping from his voice), he didn't realize I had a SUPERMAN sink...then tell me he'll take the trash out tomorrow, and passed back out. Ass still in air.
The rest of the occasions were not so amusing. And there were many.
So my friend points out that it's sad he finally went on the meds and now is probably kicking his own ass realizing the outcome would be far different had he taken my good advice years ago.
Yep, I agree, I'm sure he is.
It all worked out to my benefit, however, so I have no regret. Odd how things work out that way.
Me, my son, and my X had gone to Wal-Mart one night. As we came out, we noticed one of the most bizarre things I'd seen: there was a fire up on the far ridge of Beaucatcher Mountiain. Not a fire like a blazing bonfire...no, this was a snaking line that wound it's way up the mountainside, a bizarre red blazing wiggle up a pitch black mountain.
We just sat there in the truck, in the parking lot, staring up at it. From where we were, the details of a darkened mountin were invisible except for where the fire was making it's gradual way, at which point the details were suddenly lit up, then engulfed. And there was this weird mix of emotion, because you know it's killing animals and causing untold chaos to the forest critters, and people could have homes up there somewhere, and at the same time it's so wickedly awesome to watch....
Anyway, I'm driving down the road remembering this and suddenly tear up. I am very sad, for the first time in a long time, about the break up with the X. Why, I am not really sure. I certainly don't miss him and the terribly way he treated me.
Thinking.... I would have to say I miss being friends. As a boyfriend, he sucked, but as a friend he was a hilarious. It's weird, though, because the few times we have talked in the last month or two it's very strained and weird; he knows I'm with someone new and have moved on. He wishes we were back together. Alas for him.
What is also sad is that he has finally taken the plunge and gone on antidepressants. He said they're working and he barely drinks at all anymore. He doesn't really want to, he says. Which is 99% the cause of all we had ever argued about, ever. He just did totally retarded shit when he drank. The funniest one was when I watched him piss on the bedroom door while staring right at me and arguing with me, "Don't worry, I got it!" (Yah, you're about to get it, my foot up your ass, that is...) and then passed out cold in the hallway, pants around his knees, ass up in the air, only to wake up in a few minutes and argue with me about how he's so sorry (total sarcasm dripping from his voice), he didn't realize I had a SUPERMAN sink...then tell me he'll take the trash out tomorrow, and passed back out. Ass still in air.
The rest of the occasions were not so amusing. And there were many.
So my friend points out that it's sad he finally went on the meds and now is probably kicking his own ass realizing the outcome would be far different had he taken my good advice years ago.
Yep, I agree, I'm sure he is.
It all worked out to my benefit, however, so I have no regret. Odd how things work out that way.
Monday, August 30, 2004
the fine art of being understood
I've been more and more aware of the fact that I am transparent. At least where Mr. Wonderful is concerned. This whole trusting-another-human-being-with-my-neurosis thing is bizarre.
He calls at lunch. I am feeling particularly anxious. I put on the happy voice, though, because he is at work and I don't want him to worry or what not while he's working. He has enough to think about at work. And there's nothing really to worry about, anyway, I am technically fine. I'm just freaking out.
But after a few minutes of chatter I am running out of happy voice. I hear him, I want him, I feel puny and want to be consoled. He notices the change in my voice, and I confess I'm anxious. As quickly as possible I change the subject and suddenly bring up the fact that I'm doing laundry. I realize after the words are out of my mouth that I'm doing it again: changing the subject to cover my complete unease. I've come to realize he not only notices when I do this, but it bothers him. When we first started dating he took it as flippant. Now he knows it's just me hiding in my shell of bland facts. Here, let me throw this random tidbit in your face to distract you from the fact that I'm losing my mind! Are you buying it?
Well, he doesn't.
And while part of me is relieved to be understood, I also find it disturbing that my usual bullshit tactics aren't working. And that they are so ingrained it's just habit. I shall have to unlearn them. Maybe just while I'm around him? I don't know.
(insert the cuckoo-ing of a cuckoo clock)
He calls at lunch. I am feeling particularly anxious. I put on the happy voice, though, because he is at work and I don't want him to worry or what not while he's working. He has enough to think about at work. And there's nothing really to worry about, anyway, I am technically fine. I'm just freaking out.
But after a few minutes of chatter I am running out of happy voice. I hear him, I want him, I feel puny and want to be consoled. He notices the change in my voice, and I confess I'm anxious. As quickly as possible I change the subject and suddenly bring up the fact that I'm doing laundry. I realize after the words are out of my mouth that I'm doing it again: changing the subject to cover my complete unease. I've come to realize he not only notices when I do this, but it bothers him. When we first started dating he took it as flippant. Now he knows it's just me hiding in my shell of bland facts. Here, let me throw this random tidbit in your face to distract you from the fact that I'm losing my mind! Are you buying it?
Well, he doesn't.
And while part of me is relieved to be understood, I also find it disturbing that my usual bullshit tactics aren't working. And that they are so ingrained it's just habit. I shall have to unlearn them. Maybe just while I'm around him? I don't know.
(insert the cuckoo-ing of a cuckoo clock)
the closing of doors
I wonder about my neighbors. They slam their door every time it closes. They slam it so hard, in fact, that it shakes the chair I'm sitting in. Are they unaware of how to close a door gently? Does the door anger them?
Eh. (shrug)
Eh. (shrug)
pretty in pink
I just finished watching Pretty In Pink. I loved this movie, way back when it came out. I loved the soundtrack. I loved it even more when people in middle school said I looked like Molly Ringwald. I loved how she was a dweeb (like me) who ends up with the dream guy at the end. And he's actually nice, he's not as asshole, like a lot of the cheesy 80's flicks where the popular guys are assholes (Weird Science, Breakfast Club, etc).
So the end of the movie comes, where her dream guy asks her to make a wish, while they're sitting on a table with a birthday cake on it, and she says, "It already came true" and they kiss....and I tear up of course, at first because it's a cheesy romantic ending and I'm a total crybaby about cheesy romance, and then second because I realize Mr. Wonderful is in the other room sleeping and I got my dream guy in the end, too.
Wow.
So the end of the movie comes, where her dream guy asks her to make a wish, while they're sitting on a table with a birthday cake on it, and she says, "It already came true" and they kiss....and I tear up of course, at first because it's a cheesy romantic ending and I'm a total crybaby about cheesy romance, and then second because I realize Mr. Wonderful is in the other room sleeping and I got my dream guy in the end, too.
Wow.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
"He He Oh He
He is the completest jolly of a He
He is the immaculated jeu d'esprit
He is the aorta's jigamaree
He Oh He He
His is the reekingest smell of free
His is the deafening fart of glee
His is jocosity's apogee
Oh He He He
laughiest daffiest verity."
-James Broughton, Hymn to Big Joy in E Major
of interest, from e-mail
Does the statement, "We've always done it that way" ring any bells...?
The US standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet, 8.5 inches. That's an exceedingly odd number.
Why was that gauge used?
Because that's the way they built them in England, and English expatriates built the US Railroads.
Why did the English build them like that?
Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and that's the gauge they used.
Why did "they" use that gauge then?
Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools that they used for building wagons, which used that wheel spacing.
Okay! Why did the wagons have that particular odd wheel spacing?
Well, if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels would break on some of the old, long distance roads in England, because that's the spacing of the wheel ruts.
So who built those old rutted roads?
Imperial Rome built the first long distance roads in Europe (and England) for their legions. The roads have been used ever since.
And the ruts in the roads?
Roman war chariots formed the initial ruts, which everyone else had to match for fear of destroying their wagon wheels. Since the chariots were made for Imperial Rome, they were all alike in the matter of wheel spacing.
The United States standard railroad gauge of 4 feet, 8.5 inches is derived from the original specifications for an Imperial Roman war chariot. And bureaucracies live forever.
So the next time you are handed a spec and told we have always done it that way and wonder what horse's ass came up with that, you may be exactly right, because the Imperial Roman war chariots were made just wide enough to accommodate the back ends of two war horses.
Now the twist to the story...
When you see a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, there are two big booster rockets attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These are solid rocket boosters, or SRBs. The SRBs are made by Thiokol at their factory in Utah. The engineers who designed the SRBs would have preferred to make them a bit fatter, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site.
The railroad line from the factory happens to run through a tunnel in the mountains. The SRBs had to fit through that tunnel. The tunnel is slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track, as you now know, is about as wide as two horses' behinds.
So, a major Space Shuttle design feature of what is arguably the world's most advanced transportation system was determined over two thousand years ago by the width of a Horse's ass.
The US standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet, 8.5 inches. That's an exceedingly odd number.
Why was that gauge used?
Because that's the way they built them in England, and English expatriates built the US Railroads.
Why did the English build them like that?
Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and that's the gauge they used.
Why did "they" use that gauge then?
Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools that they used for building wagons, which used that wheel spacing.
Okay! Why did the wagons have that particular odd wheel spacing?
Well, if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels would break on some of the old, long distance roads in England, because that's the spacing of the wheel ruts.
So who built those old rutted roads?
Imperial Rome built the first long distance roads in Europe (and England) for their legions. The roads have been used ever since.
And the ruts in the roads?
Roman war chariots formed the initial ruts, which everyone else had to match for fear of destroying their wagon wheels. Since the chariots were made for Imperial Rome, they were all alike in the matter of wheel spacing.
The United States standard railroad gauge of 4 feet, 8.5 inches is derived from the original specifications for an Imperial Roman war chariot. And bureaucracies live forever.
So the next time you are handed a spec and told we have always done it that way and wonder what horse's ass came up with that, you may be exactly right, because the Imperial Roman war chariots were made just wide enough to accommodate the back ends of two war horses.
Now the twist to the story...
When you see a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, there are two big booster rockets attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These are solid rocket boosters, or SRBs. The SRBs are made by Thiokol at their factory in Utah. The engineers who designed the SRBs would have preferred to make them a bit fatter, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site.
The railroad line from the factory happens to run through a tunnel in the mountains. The SRBs had to fit through that tunnel. The tunnel is slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track, as you now know, is about as wide as two horses' behinds.
So, a major Space Shuttle design feature of what is arguably the world's most advanced transportation system was determined over two thousand years ago by the width of a Horse's ass.
Saturday, August 28, 2004
sex blogs
I've been spending more and more time reading other peoples blogs. Sometimes it's goofy, what people write about. Sometimes fascinating. Some are so freaking abstract it feels more like I'm looking in on someone's personal joke, although I suspect the joke is that they view themselves as terribly artistic. (You know the type, right?)
At any rate, I came across one where the woman was descibing an abortion she recently had.
What amazed me was that she's got her name, her picture, piles of personal info...I mean, part of the appeal of the blog for me is I can vent anonymously. Well, my friends who read this obviously know who I am....but there are still subjects that remain taboo for me. Well, one subject in particular: sex.
Although I have mentioned in a few scattered previous blogs that I am a nympho, I don't talk about sex. Which is sometimes stifling, since it is a subject that interests me greatly. I am willing to bet I could wax poetic about it at great lengths, but refrain.
Why?
I am not really sure.
I think talking about it abstractly is manageable for me. It's the day to day personal details that I refuse to do. I mean, if I'm discussing current sex acts, then it's obvious WHO I'm talking about and it may be he just wouldn't like that.
To clarify: Mr. Wonderful rocks in bed. Just so we're clear about that...
Anyway, I think I am afraid my normal introspective nature could get into some weird thought processes about sex that may or may not offend my partner, in so far as letting the world read about it. God knows he hears about it, so it's not like he's out of the loop. It's just a very small loop.
I have even kicked around the idea of making a separate blog that is devoted entirely to sex. My dream job is being a shrink...sex therapy would be fascinating. It's just a fascinating subject: a primal urge, being fufilled by creatures capable of complex thought processes, subject to a full range of human emotion which they are inevitably entangled in....
Mmmm, that's the good stuff.
Psychologically speaking.
Ahem.
Hmmm, maybe I'll brave it. You just never know. Hell, neither do I.
At any rate, I came across one where the woman was descibing an abortion she recently had.
What amazed me was that she's got her name, her picture, piles of personal info...I mean, part of the appeal of the blog for me is I can vent anonymously. Well, my friends who read this obviously know who I am....but there are still subjects that remain taboo for me. Well, one subject in particular: sex.
Although I have mentioned in a few scattered previous blogs that I am a nympho, I don't talk about sex. Which is sometimes stifling, since it is a subject that interests me greatly. I am willing to bet I could wax poetic about it at great lengths, but refrain.
Why?
I am not really sure.
I think talking about it abstractly is manageable for me. It's the day to day personal details that I refuse to do. I mean, if I'm discussing current sex acts, then it's obvious WHO I'm talking about and it may be he just wouldn't like that.
To clarify: Mr. Wonderful rocks in bed. Just so we're clear about that...
Anyway, I think I am afraid my normal introspective nature could get into some weird thought processes about sex that may or may not offend my partner, in so far as letting the world read about it. God knows he hears about it, so it's not like he's out of the loop. It's just a very small loop.
I have even kicked around the idea of making a separate blog that is devoted entirely to sex. My dream job is being a shrink...sex therapy would be fascinating. It's just a fascinating subject: a primal urge, being fufilled by creatures capable of complex thought processes, subject to a full range of human emotion which they are inevitably entangled in....
Mmmm, that's the good stuff.
Psychologically speaking.
Ahem.
Hmmm, maybe I'll brave it. You just never know. Hell, neither do I.
Friday, August 27, 2004
Still, endlessly, perpetually pondering anxiety.
Reading over blogs, it seems this last bout of it came on the day we moved. Makes enough sense.
This morning I woke up to the alarm clock. Aptly named little piece of evil. I usually am trained to wake up before the devil machine starts in to screaming, sending me into an adrenaline flooded panic. Today, no such luck. I wake up panicked at this cacophony of noise and Mr. Wonderful calmly rolls over and turns it off. I envy his calm. He notices me sitting up and asks me what I'm thinking about. I say, "Anxiety." He says, "Of course" or something like that, which makes me feel acutely aware of what a lunatic I am. Like, there's a whole world of fascinating things to ponder, but what else would I be thinking about? Of course my crazy ass is just sitting there freaking out. Hell, the sun is up, the new day has begun, there's a plethora of things to lose my mind over, right?
It just makes me want to cry and scream and throw a fit. I hate feeling like this. I hate the fact that the man of my dreams is nervous because I'm nervous. I apologize and tell him it has nothing to do with him, I'm just nuts. This doesn't particularly soothe him, and why should it? It wouldn't soothe me either, if the person I loved was pensive and paranoid and couldn't relax around me.
(During a bad spell)I remember the X asking me what was wrong, quite a lot. There was never a particular thing, just everything. Everything seemed overshadowed with foreboding.
~long sad pause~
Anxiety sucks.
~thinking~
From what I can figure out (and what a few shrinks have told me), it's PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). I've had signs of it since I was 14. That was when this shit all started. Considering I lost my virginity at 13 by rape, I don't think it's a far stretch to assume that's what caused this whole mess.
But when I examine my inner demons, that one is like a squeaky evil mouse, it's not particularly looming. Well....not like it used to be. The years following that were a rage filled mess.
Perhaps I don't examine that closely enough because it seems small by comparison to it's original bundle of destructive rage.
~thinking~
The last shrink I had pointed out the PTSD is the kind of thing that stays. Although the original cause of it may have faded, any new trauma will set it back off again.
I'm not sure if I can accept that. Am I to believe that something that traumatized me at 13 will continue to fuck me up the rest of my life? And I have no control over that? I have no way to overcome that? That's unbelievable.
Yes, my delusions of grandeur tell me I'm way too smart for that kind of crap.
Perhaps I am wrong. (rolling eyes) I suppose it's possible.
~long pause, gazing out at the trees and clouds and sky.....~
I've been having the urge for a nice nervous breakdown. (laughs) Oh, for those of you who don't get it, I'll explain. I don't see a nervous breakdown as something to dread. No, no, nervous breakdowns are a form of catharsis.
(God, I DO sound crazy...)
But seriously, I feel like all this nervous energy is building and needs to go somewhere. Um, yes, Mr. Wonderful is helping out with that....(twirls hair around finger). But...uh...anyway, when I get like this I feel like that kid in the movie "Powder"- like I'm just a walking bundle of electromagnetic...stuff. Damn it, my lack of scientific knowledge makes this analogy difficult. Like lightning could come out of a clear blue sky, strike me, and I would feel BETTER somehow. Like, "Ahhhh, yes, thank you," as I had just been touched by a familiar.
(rolling eyes)
YES I KNOW how crazy I sound.
Screw y'all anyway.
You know, I felt a lot better when I was going to the gym all the time. I totally over do it,of course. I'll lift weights until total muscle exhaustion has set in, and stagger away a pile of jell-o. But right now, that sound AWESOME.
STAY TUNED TO MY CRAZY CHANNEL! MORE CRAZY AFTER THESE COMMERCIAL SUBLIMINAL MESSAGES!
Reading over blogs, it seems this last bout of it came on the day we moved. Makes enough sense.
This morning I woke up to the alarm clock. Aptly named little piece of evil. I usually am trained to wake up before the devil machine starts in to screaming, sending me into an adrenaline flooded panic. Today, no such luck. I wake up panicked at this cacophony of noise and Mr. Wonderful calmly rolls over and turns it off. I envy his calm. He notices me sitting up and asks me what I'm thinking about. I say, "Anxiety." He says, "Of course" or something like that, which makes me feel acutely aware of what a lunatic I am. Like, there's a whole world of fascinating things to ponder, but what else would I be thinking about? Of course my crazy ass is just sitting there freaking out. Hell, the sun is up, the new day has begun, there's a plethora of things to lose my mind over, right?
It just makes me want to cry and scream and throw a fit. I hate feeling like this. I hate the fact that the man of my dreams is nervous because I'm nervous. I apologize and tell him it has nothing to do with him, I'm just nuts. This doesn't particularly soothe him, and why should it? It wouldn't soothe me either, if the person I loved was pensive and paranoid and couldn't relax around me.
(During a bad spell)I remember the X asking me what was wrong, quite a lot. There was never a particular thing, just everything. Everything seemed overshadowed with foreboding.
~long sad pause~
Anxiety sucks.
~thinking~
From what I can figure out (and what a few shrinks have told me), it's PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). I've had signs of it since I was 14. That was when this shit all started. Considering I lost my virginity at 13 by rape, I don't think it's a far stretch to assume that's what caused this whole mess.
But when I examine my inner demons, that one is like a squeaky evil mouse, it's not particularly looming. Well....not like it used to be. The years following that were a rage filled mess.
Perhaps I don't examine that closely enough because it seems small by comparison to it's original bundle of destructive rage.
~thinking~
The last shrink I had pointed out the PTSD is the kind of thing that stays. Although the original cause of it may have faded, any new trauma will set it back off again.
I'm not sure if I can accept that. Am I to believe that something that traumatized me at 13 will continue to fuck me up the rest of my life? And I have no control over that? I have no way to overcome that? That's unbelievable.
Yes, my delusions of grandeur tell me I'm way too smart for that kind of crap.
Perhaps I am wrong. (rolling eyes) I suppose it's possible.
~long pause, gazing out at the trees and clouds and sky.....~
I've been having the urge for a nice nervous breakdown. (laughs) Oh, for those of you who don't get it, I'll explain. I don't see a nervous breakdown as something to dread. No, no, nervous breakdowns are a form of catharsis.
(God, I DO sound crazy...)
But seriously, I feel like all this nervous energy is building and needs to go somewhere. Um, yes, Mr. Wonderful is helping out with that....(twirls hair around finger). But...uh...anyway, when I get like this I feel like that kid in the movie "Powder"- like I'm just a walking bundle of electromagnetic...stuff. Damn it, my lack of scientific knowledge makes this analogy difficult. Like lightning could come out of a clear blue sky, strike me, and I would feel BETTER somehow. Like, "Ahhhh, yes, thank you," as I had just been touched by a familiar.
(rolling eyes)
YES I KNOW how crazy I sound.
Screw y'all anyway.
You know, I felt a lot better when I was going to the gym all the time. I totally over do it,of course. I'll lift weights until total muscle exhaustion has set in, and stagger away a pile of jell-o. But right now, that sound AWESOME.
STAY TUNED TO MY CRAZY CHANNEL! MORE CRAZY AFTER THESE COMMERCIAL SUBLIMINAL MESSAGES!
Inbetween looking for a job, I've been playing Play-Doh with my son. We made these things that can only be an ode to Asheville:
It occurred to me last week I haven't seen any dreadlocks in weeks. What the hell?
With all the heartbreak I suffered there, I can't yet say I miss you Asheville. I have moments. There are people I miss. There is scenery I miss. The general state of freaksville I miss.
Wave your freak flag high, Asheville. You big beautiful freak, you.
ps) I tried to make a Play-Doh chick with a blond hair with black roots mullet. Play-Doh was apparently never made for such creations. Neither are people, but that's just my opinion.
It occurred to me last week I haven't seen any dreadlocks in weeks. What the hell?
With all the heartbreak I suffered there, I can't yet say I miss you Asheville. I have moments. There are people I miss. There is scenery I miss. The general state of freaksville I miss.
Wave your freak flag high, Asheville. You big beautiful freak, you.
ps) I tried to make a Play-Doh chick with a blond hair with black roots mullet. Play-Doh was apparently never made for such creations. Neither are people, but that's just my opinion.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
the geek doesn't fall far from the geek tree
While unpacking my sons things I decided to do a count of just how many books he has. I counted 120.
THAT makes me feel like a seriously cool mom.
If I may so myself (and I may), I rule.
And yes, he can read every one, and we have, with the exception of some "girlie" stuff my family sent that he finds embarrassing to even look at.
~shrug~
Whatever.
THAT makes me feel like a seriously cool mom.
If I may so myself (and I may), I rule.
And yes, he can read every one, and we have, with the exception of some "girlie" stuff my family sent that he finds embarrassing to even look at.
~shrug~
Whatever.
bug
This bug was on my blanket at the beach. I liked him. His color scheme pleased me. I think I shall name him Morace, and we shall live a wild life of disco dancing and posing on corners so everyone can admire our fabulousness. Yes. So it shall be.
totally worth reading
Made me laugh, made me think, made me slightly queasy.
Definitely fits all the requirements for my personal recommendation.
Wish he had comments enabled though. I'm way too lazy to make up a fake e-mail name so I can't be traced (grin).
Definitely fits all the requirements for my personal recommendation.
Wish he had comments enabled though. I'm way too lazy to make up a fake e-mail name so I can't be traced (grin).
anxiety medication and the ability to see...
.......clearly.
So this morning I'm all freaking out. Mr. Wonderful and I have a talk about my General State of SuperFreak and I tell him it's time I admit I'm chemically imbalanced and just take the damn medication.
So I do.
I feel great.
I'm getting stuff done without feeling like the world may end if I don't.
I must say, it's far nicer to accomplish things while calm. Mr. Wonderful pointed this one out to me, telling me that while I seek calm, calm is not something that will happen at the end of my day, when everything is done. Calm is something that needs to occur WHILE I am doing things.
Gorgeous AND smart! MAN OH MAN is he a CATCH!
Anywho, he came home for lunch. He walks in the door. I suddenly notice how incredibly gorgeous he is looking today. I tell him this, and say, "How did I not notice that this morning?" And he says, "You were stressed out."
~this blog looks around dumbstruck momentarily~
What ELSE am I missing? Seriously. How much of life's beautiful moments are passing me by while I freak the fuck out?
~deep sigh~
So it is time to ask myself: What is more important? My desire to be delusional in thinking I am chemically balanced? Or my ability to enjoy my life as it unfolds?
I think we both know the answer to that one.
So this morning I'm all freaking out. Mr. Wonderful and I have a talk about my General State of SuperFreak and I tell him it's time I admit I'm chemically imbalanced and just take the damn medication.
So I do.
I feel great.
I'm getting stuff done without feeling like the world may end if I don't.
I must say, it's far nicer to accomplish things while calm. Mr. Wonderful pointed this one out to me, telling me that while I seek calm, calm is not something that will happen at the end of my day, when everything is done. Calm is something that needs to occur WHILE I am doing things.
Gorgeous AND smart! MAN OH MAN is he a CATCH!
Anywho, he came home for lunch. He walks in the door. I suddenly notice how incredibly gorgeous he is looking today. I tell him this, and say, "How did I not notice that this morning?" And he says, "You were stressed out."
~this blog looks around dumbstruck momentarily~
What ELSE am I missing? Seriously. How much of life's beautiful moments are passing me by while I freak the fuck out?
~deep sigh~
So it is time to ask myself: What is more important? My desire to be delusional in thinking I am chemically balanced? Or my ability to enjoy my life as it unfolds?
I think we both know the answer to that one.
bumper sticker update:
"I LOVE JET NOISE"
The Oceana Naval Air Base is close by. The jets roar by, close enough that you can see the wheels and all as they get ready to land. It's excruciatingly loud and fascinating at the same time.
So I keep seeing these "I love jet noise" bumper stickers...Unfortunately people here drive so fast I can't ever get a clear shot.....
Anyway, I'm curious about these stickers. Are they sarcastic? Are they pilots? Are they insane? Deaf? What is the deal?
And then I thought....I hope I love jet noise someday, too.
The Oceana Naval Air Base is close by. The jets roar by, close enough that you can see the wheels and all as they get ready to land. It's excruciatingly loud and fascinating at the same time.
So I keep seeing these "I love jet noise" bumper stickers...Unfortunately people here drive so fast I can't ever get a clear shot.....
Anyway, I'm curious about these stickers. Are they sarcastic? Are they pilots? Are they insane? Deaf? What is the deal?
And then I thought....I hope I love jet noise someday, too.
nightmare and stress
Just had this crazy nightmare-
I was standing next to this abyss, which was rock that sloped down, steeply, to water. It was infinitely deep (not literally of course). Anyway, for whatever reason, I was there with a group of friends. A friend of mine was sitting too close and I asked her to move, that it made me really nervous. I said something like, "You're way too close to certain danger" to which she replied, "I'm way too close to certain death" kind of flippantly, but moved away. Just then my son comes running down the rock. He's skipping back and forth, laughing as everyone screams for him to stop. I think he's running way to fast, he'll never be able to stop, but he never even tries. He LEAPS into the air and goes down into the water like a rock. I jump in and so does some other guy, who disappears under the surface into the black darkness of the water. It's ice cold. I know he'll never find my son, and he's likely going to die too, from instant shock. I tread water and rip off clothing so it doesn't weigh me down, but realize all the clothes my son and the guy had on and know they are sinking into the abyss never to be found. I picture him sinking into the darkness, dead.
I wake up and sit bolt upright.
I know it's just a dream. But what the hell does it MEAN???
I really want to vomit. Instead I blog.
I've been freaked out the last few days. I'm not sure why, but it has to do with relationship anxieties, trust issues, and loneliness.
When I first got here it was hard for me to really open up to Mr. Wonderful. I felt like I did a really good job. Now I feel like I'm reverting back into my shell and I'm not sure why. I've been busting my ass getting our stuff put away, moving stuff, cleaning stuff, cooking stuff...I realized yesterday that I've been getting up at 7 and running myself ragged until 10 or 11 at night, every day for the last 5 days? With the exception of when Sara and I went to the beach.
I feel like I'm manic about getting our new house set up, about doing a million things to prove my worth while Mr. Wonderful is off at work. At first sitting at home was great, but it's starting to wear on me.(laugh) Well, at first sitting at home was literally sitting, or going to the park, or whatever. Now I have stuff to do. Of course, then I complained I had nothing to do and was getting stir crazy. ~sigh~ Now I have plenty to do and feel guilty if I don't do it all, constantly. Our new house is starting to be set up, but there's still a lot to do. There's still a truckload or so from the old place. My son starts school in a week or so. I need to find a job then.
I told myself I wouldn't stress out about the job until I was moved. Well, I"m still not totally moved but the job search is looming. And a new school- what if my son hates it? What if he's miserable?
Why am I so overwhelmed with fear right now?
Even Mr. Wonderful scares me. Last night I was looking at him and just kind of flipped. Like, I think I suddenly saw him as another potential stressful thing. Something that could harm me. Like everything else, when I get bad like this. It's like, my brain is racing to foresee any problems, any kinks, any possible future disasters, so that I may avoid them. Present moment? Nope. Maybe everything is just fine. I wouldn't know, I'm too busy pondering my own fear and if it's justified or not.
No, you can't just get over it. I can't, anyway. I don't know, maybe I can. Here, let me THINK ABOUT IT. For hours on end.
So, here's my brain racing out of control, and I'm so tired, and I just want to sleep, but my fucking brain won't shut up.
A friend of mine offered me some of her anxiety medication- after hesitation, I took it. I was on Xanax for a while and it totally worked. But who wants to admit they have a chemical imbalance? I mean, I talk about it, but I like to think it's something I can somehow OUTSMART. Like, I think I can somehow figure it out like a puzzle missing a piece and then I'll magically be cured. I"m sure there's tons of depressed people out there who know what I'm talking about. You think, maybe if I do this, or maybe if I change that, THEN I'll be happy. But those things don't make you happy, and you endlessly search for the thing that will fix it. It's sad when the problem was in your head all along, and you drove yourself crazy trying to alter your environment in an effort to find happiness. That's what I do, but I seek peace instead.
God my head hurts.
Ugh.
More later- if I can force myself to sit long enough.....
I was standing next to this abyss, which was rock that sloped down, steeply, to water. It was infinitely deep (not literally of course). Anyway, for whatever reason, I was there with a group of friends. A friend of mine was sitting too close and I asked her to move, that it made me really nervous. I said something like, "You're way too close to certain danger" to which she replied, "I'm way too close to certain death" kind of flippantly, but moved away. Just then my son comes running down the rock. He's skipping back and forth, laughing as everyone screams for him to stop. I think he's running way to fast, he'll never be able to stop, but he never even tries. He LEAPS into the air and goes down into the water like a rock. I jump in and so does some other guy, who disappears under the surface into the black darkness of the water. It's ice cold. I know he'll never find my son, and he's likely going to die too, from instant shock. I tread water and rip off clothing so it doesn't weigh me down, but realize all the clothes my son and the guy had on and know they are sinking into the abyss never to be found. I picture him sinking into the darkness, dead.
I wake up and sit bolt upright.
I know it's just a dream. But what the hell does it MEAN???
I really want to vomit. Instead I blog.
I've been freaked out the last few days. I'm not sure why, but it has to do with relationship anxieties, trust issues, and loneliness.
When I first got here it was hard for me to really open up to Mr. Wonderful. I felt like I did a really good job. Now I feel like I'm reverting back into my shell and I'm not sure why. I've been busting my ass getting our stuff put away, moving stuff, cleaning stuff, cooking stuff...I realized yesterday that I've been getting up at 7 and running myself ragged until 10 or 11 at night, every day for the last 5 days? With the exception of when Sara and I went to the beach.
I feel like I'm manic about getting our new house set up, about doing a million things to prove my worth while Mr. Wonderful is off at work. At first sitting at home was great, but it's starting to wear on me.(laugh) Well, at first sitting at home was literally sitting, or going to the park, or whatever. Now I have stuff to do. Of course, then I complained I had nothing to do and was getting stir crazy. ~sigh~ Now I have plenty to do and feel guilty if I don't do it all, constantly. Our new house is starting to be set up, but there's still a lot to do. There's still a truckload or so from the old place. My son starts school in a week or so. I need to find a job then.
I told myself I wouldn't stress out about the job until I was moved. Well, I"m still not totally moved but the job search is looming. And a new school- what if my son hates it? What if he's miserable?
Why am I so overwhelmed with fear right now?
Even Mr. Wonderful scares me. Last night I was looking at him and just kind of flipped. Like, I think I suddenly saw him as another potential stressful thing. Something that could harm me. Like everything else, when I get bad like this. It's like, my brain is racing to foresee any problems, any kinks, any possible future disasters, so that I may avoid them. Present moment? Nope. Maybe everything is just fine. I wouldn't know, I'm too busy pondering my own fear and if it's justified or not.
No, you can't just get over it. I can't, anyway. I don't know, maybe I can. Here, let me THINK ABOUT IT. For hours on end.
So, here's my brain racing out of control, and I'm so tired, and I just want to sleep, but my fucking brain won't shut up.
A friend of mine offered me some of her anxiety medication- after hesitation, I took it. I was on Xanax for a while and it totally worked. But who wants to admit they have a chemical imbalance? I mean, I talk about it, but I like to think it's something I can somehow OUTSMART. Like, I think I can somehow figure it out like a puzzle missing a piece and then I'll magically be cured. I"m sure there's tons of depressed people out there who know what I'm talking about. You think, maybe if I do this, or maybe if I change that, THEN I'll be happy. But those things don't make you happy, and you endlessly search for the thing that will fix it. It's sad when the problem was in your head all along, and you drove yourself crazy trying to alter your environment in an effort to find happiness. That's what I do, but I seek peace instead.
God my head hurts.
Ugh.
More later- if I can force myself to sit long enough.....
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
the stress of time passing
My morning went to hell. Well, my expectations of my morning went to hell. I had a plan, I thought it was a good plan. It was not such a good plan, perhaps. At any rate, halfway through my morning I started freaking out when I realized I simply couldn't finish what I wanted to. I was hoping to set some time aside for me and my son to chill at the pool- I've been really anxious lately and I'm trying to get this disorder under control. Thought maybe some downtime would help my nerves. Good plan till I realized I was rushing to go chill out because I didn't have enough time before I had to rush back and do other stuff....
~eyes rolling~
Oh YAH that's really relaxing.
So right at the moment of me cracking and starting to cry at the frustration of it all, I went and laid down on my bed. Instead of trying to make it work, I decided to surrender to the fact that it is not going to work, and a new plan is in order.
I felt better.
Not great- I mean, I had certain times of the day I wanted to do things (due to needing to be across town at 1, then 5...I'm trying to consolodate trips). But that's just not going to happen.
Ok.
I sat there for awhile thiniking about what I would find truly relaxing...and the things that I enjoy the most are the times I don't have to watch the clock or worry about the passing of time in any way.
Those were my favorite ways to chill as a kid- wander through the woods for hours, ride my bike for hours, play in the creek or swim in the lake for hours, with no care as to what time it is.
Adulthood is harsh that way.
I resent it.
Unrealistic, and puts me at odds with resposibility.
And I like to pride myself in my ability to juggle massive responsibilities, mostly quite well...but perhsps I resent it all. Hence my anxiety?
I resented it as a child when my mom would tell me I had to come home for dinner. Yah, I was hungry. But I was happier wandering around by myself, lost in my own cavernous head of thoughts, without someone implying I'm bad for not bending my joy to fit their dinner plans. I'd eat it later. I'd eat it cold. I'd eat a bowl of cereal. I didn't really care. I just wanted to be outside and climbing trees and playing in the mud.
You know, I still feel that way.
Food for thought.
~eyes rolling~
Oh YAH that's really relaxing.
So right at the moment of me cracking and starting to cry at the frustration of it all, I went and laid down on my bed. Instead of trying to make it work, I decided to surrender to the fact that it is not going to work, and a new plan is in order.
I felt better.
Not great- I mean, I had certain times of the day I wanted to do things (due to needing to be across town at 1, then 5...I'm trying to consolodate trips). But that's just not going to happen.
Ok.
I sat there for awhile thiniking about what I would find truly relaxing...and the things that I enjoy the most are the times I don't have to watch the clock or worry about the passing of time in any way.
Those were my favorite ways to chill as a kid- wander through the woods for hours, ride my bike for hours, play in the creek or swim in the lake for hours, with no care as to what time it is.
Adulthood is harsh that way.
I resent it.
Unrealistic, and puts me at odds with resposibility.
And I like to pride myself in my ability to juggle massive responsibilities, mostly quite well...but perhsps I resent it all. Hence my anxiety?
I resented it as a child when my mom would tell me I had to come home for dinner. Yah, I was hungry. But I was happier wandering around by myself, lost in my own cavernous head of thoughts, without someone implying I'm bad for not bending my joy to fit their dinner plans. I'd eat it later. I'd eat it cold. I'd eat a bowl of cereal. I didn't really care. I just wanted to be outside and climbing trees and playing in the mud.
You know, I still feel that way.
Food for thought.
Monday, August 23, 2004
The Beach Is Blogged
This bloggies been busy moving into the new place. Updates forthcoming. As well as an endless stream of consciousness regarding my views on life.
In the meantime, Sara and I went to the beach. You need to know:
There are silly boys whose pants hang BELOW their asses. What's holding them up? Seems tightly cinched, what is this, a belt for a cock ring? I don't get it....
yeesh!
Mmmmm, you got the redneck motorcycle guys wandering along...it's funny how atmosphere changes everything; next to all the pretentious hottie beach kids, these guys were actually adorable in their fuck y'all attitude.
Here's a lovely sight. This couple was laying on the grass with their little dog. The little dog ran around for a while then seemed mostly content to mount it's female owners breast and stay there in a boob humping position for vast periods of time. The owner didn't seem to mind. We found this to be quite amusing. It may have been the mixed drinks we were busy consuming while quietly laughing at them, but I don't think so.
Then along came Mr. Throwback Fro From The 70's.
He was styling and profiling.
Any loyal readers will know my distaste for pants, shorts, whatever, with things written across the ass. After the boob humping dog, I may have been prone to slap happiness and started singing, "Mammas gonna knock you OUT!" as Sara stated that she wants to come up with a line of parody clothing. Yah, yah, shorts with things like, "Look at my ass" or "Here is my ass". By then we were laughing and came up with a few good doozy's like "Plumber", "Accountant", hmmmm...how about "White Trash Whore"? "Auditor" would be sexy, no? "IRS"?
You let me know Sara. We'll get right on that.
Virginia Beach, you amuse me.
In the meantime, Sara and I went to the beach. You need to know:
There are silly boys whose pants hang BELOW their asses. What's holding them up? Seems tightly cinched, what is this, a belt for a cock ring? I don't get it....
yeesh!
Mmmmm, you got the redneck motorcycle guys wandering along...it's funny how atmosphere changes everything; next to all the pretentious hottie beach kids, these guys were actually adorable in their fuck y'all attitude.
Here's a lovely sight. This couple was laying on the grass with their little dog. The little dog ran around for a while then seemed mostly content to mount it's female owners breast and stay there in a boob humping position for vast periods of time. The owner didn't seem to mind. We found this to be quite amusing. It may have been the mixed drinks we were busy consuming while quietly laughing at them, but I don't think so.
Then along came Mr. Throwback Fro From The 70's.
He was styling and profiling.
Any loyal readers will know my distaste for pants, shorts, whatever, with things written across the ass. After the boob humping dog, I may have been prone to slap happiness and started singing, "Mammas gonna knock you OUT!" as Sara stated that she wants to come up with a line of parody clothing. Yah, yah, shorts with things like, "Look at my ass" or "Here is my ass". By then we were laughing and came up with a few good doozy's like "Plumber", "Accountant", hmmmm...how about "White Trash Whore"? "Auditor" would be sexy, no? "IRS"?
You let me know Sara. We'll get right on that.
Virginia Beach, you amuse me.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Big Beavers....
Someone finally managed to cash in on an ongoing joke to those of us from Troy, MI (or nearby).
Here's the story: If you're traveling on I-75 (in Michigan) going north, you will pass Exit 69, which is Big Beaver Road. I doubt any teenager growing up there has ever missed the hilarity of this.
Here's my story: I went to the jazz festival in downtown Detroit with a bunch of friends one. We all decided to trip. Well, someone got the bright idea on the way back to strip and drive down the road butt naked. We listened to classical music very loudly and tried to not laugh ourselves sick. At one point we realized no one noticed we were naked so my friend Liz leans out the window and is waving her bra at the car next to us while yelling, "Hey!!! We're naked over here! Helllo?!?!" and the whole thing was just ridiculously funny.(The people in the next car never did even notice her.Oiy.)
At any rate, my friend David sent me this link and I must say, thanks, David. That made me "WHOOHOO!!!" You can never have enough Whoohoo in you life, you know?
Here's the story: If you're traveling on I-75 (in Michigan) going north, you will pass Exit 69, which is Big Beaver Road. I doubt any teenager growing up there has ever missed the hilarity of this.
Here's my story: I went to the jazz festival in downtown Detroit with a bunch of friends one. We all decided to trip. Well, someone got the bright idea on the way back to strip and drive down the road butt naked. We listened to classical music very loudly and tried to not laugh ourselves sick. At one point we realized no one noticed we were naked so my friend Liz leans out the window and is waving her bra at the car next to us while yelling, "Hey!!! We're naked over here! Helllo?!?!" and the whole thing was just ridiculously funny.(The people in the next car never did even notice her.Oiy.)
At any rate, my friend David sent me this link and I must say, thanks, David. That made me "WHOOHOO!!!" You can never have enough Whoohoo in you life, you know?
quiet, Mr. Poopypants
I'm perusing Dave Barry's blog this morning looking at funny stuff, and come across a goofy little driving game. I do it, it's fun. I go back to the comments page in the blog and see everyone else's scores...and notice there are quite a few "women suck at driving" comments. WTF is up with that? I mean, YAH, you're totally right, but not ALL of them. Likewise, I can't imagine how many times my defensive driving skills have saved me from some jackass dude running me off the road...
Let's take last Friday for example. I get rear ended in traffic. I was stopped at a light, and the guy behind me thought he could, perhaps, defy the laws of psychics and drive THROUGH me. Didn't turn out the way he planned, I'm guessing. So I get out and we do the whole exchange info thing, and he says lamely to me, "Well, the other cars had started moving (in the other lanes, not ours), and I just thought you were going to go...." and trails off. I managed to bite my tongue and not insult this guy, like, "Yep, brilliant reasoning there, Sherlock!" because I feel bad for him- it's his fault and his insurance is going to skyrocket...and I get a new bumper, so what do I care? His pimped out Mitsubishi whatever the hell it is is looking mighty rough (my bumper is steel, not fiberglass!) and I think it's chick-magnet qualities just went to hell....
My point is that men and women drive like crap.
Just stay away from the stupid people.
Let's take last Friday for example. I get rear ended in traffic. I was stopped at a light, and the guy behind me thought he could, perhaps, defy the laws of psychics and drive THROUGH me. Didn't turn out the way he planned, I'm guessing. So I get out and we do the whole exchange info thing, and he says lamely to me, "Well, the other cars had started moving (in the other lanes, not ours), and I just thought you were going to go...." and trails off. I managed to bite my tongue and not insult this guy, like, "Yep, brilliant reasoning there, Sherlock!" because I feel bad for him- it's his fault and his insurance is going to skyrocket...and I get a new bumper, so what do I care? His pimped out Mitsubishi whatever the hell it is is looking mighty rough (my bumper is steel, not fiberglass!) and I think it's chick-magnet qualities just went to hell....
My point is that men and women drive like crap.
Just stay away from the stupid people.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
murgle shmurgle
(groan)
I think I am officially ready to move.
Yesterday we went to sign the lease, do all that stuff...today I went back to get the keys and do a walk through with the leasing agent. I hadn't actually seen this place yet, we had only seen the model, which was on the ground floor. The top floor has higher ceilings (I swear!), and the deck is gorgeous (no one above), the view is great (facing the bay instead of a common lawn like the model), the kitchen is newly remodeled (a brand new everything, the stove still has the paperwork in it, for Pete's sake), the bedroom windows are much bigger than the model (those were ground level and tiny), and the windows have this wide shelf like a little reading nook or something.
Besides all of that, the place is huge compared to where we are now. I can unpack all of my stuff. And not stare at it in boxes in the living room. And the dining room. Which are currently overrun with boxes.
For two neurosis filled superfreaks, I am amazed we haven't gone insane in the last two weeks. Before I moved here, I was pretty scared we would both be climbing the walls by the time we moved. Well, I was more afraid he would be climbing the walls, since he was here and used to living alone...much less have a girlfriend AND her son, quite suddenly. Yes, a plethora of sex and home cooked meals has sweetened the deal for him....
...................mmmmm.
Where was I?
Oh yes. So tonight I feel ready to crawl out of my skin. I want a big kitchen, with storage space and counter space and a dishwasher, I want TWO bedrooms, I want to put all of my things AWAY, I want my computer to go somewhere, not sitting on a chest while I sit hunched over trying to type, I want a washer and dryer (I sold mine in the process of moving here; where would I put them?), I want all my clothes put away, I want my sons toys unpacked so he's not going nuts with boredom (resorting in massive amounts of TV consumption), I want all my plates, all my glasses, all my silverwear, I want a kitchen table and futon (both disassembeled for the move), I want to be HOME.
I want to be home.
It's homey here. But most of my things are in boxes, and that's wearing on me.
All this is awesome, so you understand. I am going to need some serious motivation to pick up all that crap I just picked up two weeks ago and carry it upstairs in the heat of this crazy hot town.
~groan~
The things we do for love.....
I think I am officially ready to move.
Yesterday we went to sign the lease, do all that stuff...today I went back to get the keys and do a walk through with the leasing agent. I hadn't actually seen this place yet, we had only seen the model, which was on the ground floor. The top floor has higher ceilings (I swear!), and the deck is gorgeous (no one above), the view is great (facing the bay instead of a common lawn like the model), the kitchen is newly remodeled (a brand new everything, the stove still has the paperwork in it, for Pete's sake), the bedroom windows are much bigger than the model (those were ground level and tiny), and the windows have this wide shelf like a little reading nook or something.
Besides all of that, the place is huge compared to where we are now. I can unpack all of my stuff. And not stare at it in boxes in the living room. And the dining room. Which are currently overrun with boxes.
For two neurosis filled superfreaks, I am amazed we haven't gone insane in the last two weeks. Before I moved here, I was pretty scared we would both be climbing the walls by the time we moved. Well, I was more afraid he would be climbing the walls, since he was here and used to living alone...much less have a girlfriend AND her son, quite suddenly. Yes, a plethora of sex and home cooked meals has sweetened the deal for him....
...................mmmmm.
Where was I?
Oh yes. So tonight I feel ready to crawl out of my skin. I want a big kitchen, with storage space and counter space and a dishwasher, I want TWO bedrooms, I want to put all of my things AWAY, I want my computer to go somewhere, not sitting on a chest while I sit hunched over trying to type, I want a washer and dryer (I sold mine in the process of moving here; where would I put them?), I want all my clothes put away, I want my sons toys unpacked so he's not going nuts with boredom (resorting in massive amounts of TV consumption), I want all my plates, all my glasses, all my silverwear, I want a kitchen table and futon (both disassembeled for the move), I want to be HOME.
I want to be home.
It's homey here. But most of my things are in boxes, and that's wearing on me.
All this is awesome, so you understand. I am going to need some serious motivation to pick up all that crap I just picked up two weeks ago and carry it upstairs in the heat of this crazy hot town.
~groan~
The things we do for love.....
spell check
So I'm writing an e-mail to Mr. Wonderful and I write "edjamacated" to be funny. What's funny is spell check suggested I turn it to ejaculated.
Hmm.
Hmm.
more Pokemon pondering
I've been watching waaaay too many cartoons lately....and of course that has caused me to think waaaaay too much about these cartoons... that said, I notice every time Team Rocket appears on the scene they bust out with this long ridiculous speech:
"Prepare for TROUBLE! Make that DOUBLE!
To protect the world from devastation
To unite all peoples within our nation
To denounce the evils of truth & love!
To extend our reach to the stars above!
Jessie!
James!
Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light! Surrender now or prepare to fight!"
(Meowth) "THAT'S RIGHT!"
And every time they start in to this ramble I can't help but wonder why their asses aren't kicked by the time they finish the long winded thing.
You know, most evil-bad-guys do this. They appear and go on with a flowery speech of wrongdoing to display their penchant for drama. I think it's a prerequisite for evil or something.
"Prepare for TROUBLE! Make that DOUBLE!
To protect the world from devastation
To unite all peoples within our nation
To denounce the evils of truth & love!
To extend our reach to the stars above!
Jessie!
James!
Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light! Surrender now or prepare to fight!"
(Meowth) "THAT'S RIGHT!"
And every time they start in to this ramble I can't help but wonder why their asses aren't kicked by the time they finish the long winded thing.
You know, most evil-bad-guys do this. They appear and go on with a flowery speech of wrongdoing to display their penchant for drama. I think it's a prerequisite for evil or something.
things to make you pay attention
Yesterday my seven year old son asks me, "How old do you have to be to watch X rated movies?"
My jaw actually dropped. I said, "Uh, at least 18."
He asks, "Why?"
I tell him, "You know, X rated means there's, uh, people doing it and stuff."
He stares at and yells, "Eeeeyyyyyyyuuuuuuuu!"
I nod at him mock grimly.
He laughs.
My jaw actually dropped. I said, "Uh, at least 18."
He asks, "Why?"
I tell him, "You know, X rated means there's, uh, people doing it and stuff."
He stares at and yells, "Eeeeyyyyyyyuuuuuuuu!"
I nod at him mock grimly.
He laughs.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
advertising false advertising
With all the make up and hair dye and push up bras that chicks have, I guess it was only a matter of time....
the future of the world...
Is not in the hands of robots, as I previously suspected.
Now the question is, will they study the ants to discover how humans can learn cooperation, or do they try to exterminate them, because they threaten the native ecosystem?
Hmmmm.
Now the question is, will they study the ants to discover how humans can learn cooperation, or do they try to exterminate them, because they threaten the native ecosystem?
Hmmmm.
lack of moving stress
So in a few days we're moving into our new place. What? I just moved? Yes, I know. Here's the thing- we need a two bedroom, not one (where we are now), so we got a two bedroom apartment but it doesn't open up till the 18th. Ok, so the question was whether or not I should have stayed in Asheville till then......NO! So, yes, I moved here almost two weeks ago and soon I will move again. But I'm not moving 400+ miles, so I'm not stressed. Nor do I have to pack- 95% is still in boxes. Except for you, my beloved computer! Ah,love...
And I don't have to pack everything while working full time while taking care of my son. As far as I concerned, this moving thing will be like a vacation by comparison. To leisurely move....WOW. So most days Mr. Wonderful will be at work and I'll load things into the truck and take em over to the new place...
Not too shabby.
And I don't have to pack everything while working full time while taking care of my son. As far as I concerned, this moving thing will be like a vacation by comparison. To leisurely move....WOW. So most days Mr. Wonderful will be at work and I'll load things into the truck and take em over to the new place...
Not too shabby.
Monday, August 16, 2004
time heals all wounds...
6 months ago, I was the girl on the right. 6 months later, I am the girl on the left. There is no girl on the right.
Life is so much better.
It's amazing.
Mmmmm, smokey treats.....
"Tobacco is the only product that, when used as directed, kills one-third of its customers. Freakish, isn't it? Welcome to Crazyworld."
I'm sitting here blogging about anxiety and ~ping~ I see I have new mail. I expect spam, but instead it's an e-mail form Mr. Wonderful, who is at work. I instantly feel like someone has wrapped me in a protective soothing bubble.
I'm not quite sure why this man has this effect on me, and I can't help but wonder if it's ok that he does. I mean, am I delusional? Why have men never had this magical ability before? Oh yah, I hear you Mr. Wonderful. None of them are as awesome as you. And you are so right.
It makes me feel hopeful. Like, maybe I can lick this panic thing. Maybe not alone. Maybe that's my lesson to learn. I don't know.
It may be time for me to learn how to really trust someone.
Hmmmmm.
I'm not quite sure why this man has this effect on me, and I can't help but wonder if it's ok that he does. I mean, am I delusional? Why have men never had this magical ability before? Oh yah, I hear you Mr. Wonderful. None of them are as awesome as you. And you are so right.
It makes me feel hopeful. Like, maybe I can lick this panic thing. Maybe not alone. Maybe that's my lesson to learn. I don't know.
It may be time for me to learn how to really trust someone.
Hmmmmm.
a crazy girls thoughts on anxiety disorder
So much running through my head, so little concentration to write it with. Staying home with my son is wonderful , but difficult to get any writing done. I was thinking this would give me a chance to write like mad, but hadn't really taken into account the fact that I would hear Ed, Edd, and Eddy ranting on behind me. When we get into the new place I'm sure it will be easier.
August seems to be flying by. I am so sad. Although I want to get settled into the new place, I know that school starts and I need to find a new job right after that. And every time I think of that, I am stricken with panic. Why? Why you ask? I'll tell you (and myself):
I need to find a job. And learn something new. And be surrounded by people I don't know, and possibly dislike. I need to learn how long it takes to get from wherever to work, since traffic here seems to me to be a ridiculous exercise in near futility. What will I do? Where will I work? What do I want to do? I think I need to find something that involves as little public interaction as possible. Or do I?
~~~in case you haven't caught on, this is all about panic attacks~~~~
Maybe if I'm out in the public it will distract me, and make me feel better connected to my fellow man, thus relieving some of the fear of interaction. When I'm not panicky, I love being around people. But right now the mere THOUGHT of going somewhere and interacting with a bunch of people I don't know makes me feel like there are little lead men sitting on my chest, and it makes me want to run away. Then logic kicks in and tells me to calm down, working is great, it fills me with a sense of purpose and accomplishment. Hiding from failure makes me feel like a failure.
~sigh~ But that's not quite it. It's not failure I'm afraid of. It's the panic attacks themselves that I am afraid of. What if I walk in the first day and feel faint? The worst thing about panic attacks is having a conversation with someone while you're in the midst of one. Trying to look them in the eye and make rational conversation when you can't breathe and can only think about how you're going to escape is distracting in and of itself; but then I'm wondering if I'm coming off as a lunatic and how obvious it is that I'm losing it. Then I'm worried that I'm making as ass of myself which of course makes me panic even more.
(eyes rolling)
Yes yes my tail is delicious! I must chase it! Eat it! AWROOOOOOOOOOOO!
~sigh~
I've been really hopeful for the last week or so. I haven't had any real bad panic attacks since I drove here. Had a monstrous one on the way. So bad in fact my arms and legs were tingling. Not so good while driving, that was. Had a minor one the other night while getting ready to go to dinner with Mr. Wonderful and his co-workers. I hadn't met any of them before so that was a little intimidating to meet them all at once.
I was overly hopeful, I think. I was thinking maybe I was getting a grip on the attacks but I realize now I've been able to sit at home with my son and/or have enough control over my environment to at least feel comfortable most of the time, so I haven't really had any serious stressors to set them off.
Alas, my respite will be coming to an end. What blows is that it's not at an end now but I'm already gearing up for it.
Hello? Be in the moment? Argh.
It sucks to have these lovely ideals of Buddhism that make total sense but I feel like my own brain chemistry is undermining all my good effort. Which is not to say my good effort is for naught, that isn't true. It's just really weird to have this whole set of spiritual reasoning in my head that I am unable to keep in place. It's like writing it on a chalkboard and some pain in the ass kid keeps erasing parts so it no longer makes any sense. So I rewrite it. And rewrite it. And rewrite it. I feel like I'm relearning the same thing over and over. It's a crap filled deja vu.
Part of me hopes that maybe I can override it, but I'm coming to terms with the realization that it may not be possible. I'm such a stubborn bitch, I want to fix it on my own (sans medication) but it may not be an option.
Mr. Wonderful and I watched a show last night about stress and the way it affects the body and what causes it, etc etc.
It got me to thinking.
And the show itself produced a state of anxiety.
(banging crazy head against wall)
More about this, you can be sure.
August seems to be flying by. I am so sad. Although I want to get settled into the new place, I know that school starts and I need to find a new job right after that. And every time I think of that, I am stricken with panic. Why? Why you ask? I'll tell you (and myself):
I need to find a job. And learn something new. And be surrounded by people I don't know, and possibly dislike. I need to learn how long it takes to get from wherever to work, since traffic here seems to me to be a ridiculous exercise in near futility. What will I do? Where will I work? What do I want to do? I think I need to find something that involves as little public interaction as possible. Or do I?
~~~in case you haven't caught on, this is all about panic attacks~~~~
Maybe if I'm out in the public it will distract me, and make me feel better connected to my fellow man, thus relieving some of the fear of interaction. When I'm not panicky, I love being around people. But right now the mere THOUGHT of going somewhere and interacting with a bunch of people I don't know makes me feel like there are little lead men sitting on my chest, and it makes me want to run away. Then logic kicks in and tells me to calm down, working is great, it fills me with a sense of purpose and accomplishment. Hiding from failure makes me feel like a failure.
~sigh~ But that's not quite it. It's not failure I'm afraid of. It's the panic attacks themselves that I am afraid of. What if I walk in the first day and feel faint? The worst thing about panic attacks is having a conversation with someone while you're in the midst of one. Trying to look them in the eye and make rational conversation when you can't breathe and can only think about how you're going to escape is distracting in and of itself; but then I'm wondering if I'm coming off as a lunatic and how obvious it is that I'm losing it. Then I'm worried that I'm making as ass of myself which of course makes me panic even more.
(eyes rolling)
Yes yes my tail is delicious! I must chase it! Eat it! AWROOOOOOOOOOOO!
~sigh~
I've been really hopeful for the last week or so. I haven't had any real bad panic attacks since I drove here. Had a monstrous one on the way. So bad in fact my arms and legs were tingling. Not so good while driving, that was. Had a minor one the other night while getting ready to go to dinner with Mr. Wonderful and his co-workers. I hadn't met any of them before so that was a little intimidating to meet them all at once.
I was overly hopeful, I think. I was thinking maybe I was getting a grip on the attacks but I realize now I've been able to sit at home with my son and/or have enough control over my environment to at least feel comfortable most of the time, so I haven't really had any serious stressors to set them off.
Alas, my respite will be coming to an end. What blows is that it's not at an end now but I'm already gearing up for it.
Hello? Be in the moment? Argh.
It sucks to have these lovely ideals of Buddhism that make total sense but I feel like my own brain chemistry is undermining all my good effort. Which is not to say my good effort is for naught, that isn't true. It's just really weird to have this whole set of spiritual reasoning in my head that I am unable to keep in place. It's like writing it on a chalkboard and some pain in the ass kid keeps erasing parts so it no longer makes any sense. So I rewrite it. And rewrite it. And rewrite it. I feel like I'm relearning the same thing over and over. It's a crap filled deja vu.
Part of me hopes that maybe I can override it, but I'm coming to terms with the realization that it may not be possible. I'm such a stubborn bitch, I want to fix it on my own (sans medication) but it may not be an option.
Mr. Wonderful and I watched a show last night about stress and the way it affects the body and what causes it, etc etc.
It got me to thinking.
And the show itself produced a state of anxiety.
(banging crazy head against wall)
More about this, you can be sure.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
things that make me think humans are ok
People on Fort Myers Beach, Fla., drag a manatee down Estero Boulevard after the manatee was stranded out of water on Pearl Street after Hurricane Charley passed through on Fort Myers Beach, Fla., Friday, Aug. 13, 2004. The manatee was released into a local waterway and swam away. (AP Photo/Palm Beach Post, Gary Coronado)
Special to the Citizen-Times
Aug 14, 2004
Friday, August 13, 2004
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Paranoia and shoes
I notice there are a lot of blogs from Yours-Freaky-Truly lately referring to paranoia.
It's not that I've been more paranoid lately. If anything, I've been far less. Part of that is that whole Big-Strong-Man-Who-Is-My-Knight-In-Shining-Armor thing I'm reveling in.
How long have I been armoring myself? I mean, I think about the collection of big black boots I have and have to wonder. I've managed to let a few go...but any shrink seriously looking at my shoe collection would notice one thing they all have in common: I can run in them. Heels and all.
Although I did break out of the mold and buy stilettos this year. Wore them once. Didn't care for them, can't even walk fast without risking shattered bones. But, I managed to talk myself into buying them because (my psycho reasoning went) if I was knocked down I could totally stab someone with them, my legs being the strongest muscles I have.
Since meeting Mr. Wonderful, I bought a pair of heeled mules. I think that's what they're called. At any rate, I can't really run in them, either but I could flip them OFF of my feet and run pretty easily.
Girls in flip flops just freak me out. You may as well have a sign on your head that says, "Attack me I'm defenseless in these retarded excuse for shoes". Aw geez- and now they come as platforms? (cringe!) I saw a little girl in them at the playground the other day! She couldn't have been more than 12 at absolute most. I'm guessing 10. Hell, you can't play in shoes like that! (Much less run away.)
My shoe-paranoid rambling aside, my point is this: I am coming to terms with the fact that I am seriously frightened of the world around me, specifically the men in it. Specifically the big men in it. Or maybe the psycho aggressive scary men. Hmmm.... anyway, I have usually dated small scrawny guys. So I can beat the fucking crap out of them if need be. (Date rape trauma caused that one.) Now I'm dating a big strong man who is nice? Wow. But could kick ass and protect me, too? Huh.
I don't know what to say. I could say I wish I had figured this stuff out sooner but then I wouldn't be me, where I am now. And right now, I love being me. Every day is filled with new realizations and understanding and.... (chokes up)....I'm so in love. I'm so happy.
And I've been barefoot a lot.
It's not that I've been more paranoid lately. If anything, I've been far less. Part of that is that whole Big-Strong-Man-Who-Is-My-Knight-In-Shining-Armor thing I'm reveling in.
How long have I been armoring myself? I mean, I think about the collection of big black boots I have and have to wonder. I've managed to let a few go...but any shrink seriously looking at my shoe collection would notice one thing they all have in common: I can run in them. Heels and all.
Although I did break out of the mold and buy stilettos this year. Wore them once. Didn't care for them, can't even walk fast without risking shattered bones. But, I managed to talk myself into buying them because (my psycho reasoning went) if I was knocked down I could totally stab someone with them, my legs being the strongest muscles I have.
Since meeting Mr. Wonderful, I bought a pair of heeled mules. I think that's what they're called. At any rate, I can't really run in them, either but I could flip them OFF of my feet and run pretty easily.
Girls in flip flops just freak me out. You may as well have a sign on your head that says, "Attack me I'm defenseless in these retarded excuse for shoes". Aw geez- and now they come as platforms? (cringe!) I saw a little girl in them at the playground the other day! She couldn't have been more than 12 at absolute most. I'm guessing 10. Hell, you can't play in shoes like that! (Much less run away.)
My shoe-paranoid rambling aside, my point is this: I am coming to terms with the fact that I am seriously frightened of the world around me, specifically the men in it. Specifically the big men in it. Or maybe the psycho aggressive scary men. Hmmm.... anyway, I have usually dated small scrawny guys. So I can beat the fucking crap out of them if need be. (Date rape trauma caused that one.) Now I'm dating a big strong man who is nice? Wow. But could kick ass and protect me, too? Huh.
I don't know what to say. I could say I wish I had figured this stuff out sooner but then I wouldn't be me, where I am now. And right now, I love being me. Every day is filled with new realizations and understanding and.... (chokes up)....I'm so in love. I'm so happy.
And I've been barefoot a lot.
late night
Wow- this is the first time since I've moved here that I feel alone. Which I'm not, actually. Mr. Wonderful and my son are asleep- both deep sleepers and a good thing- my son is laying not a foot away. The sound of typing troubles him not! Ah, to sleep like the unparanoid people.....
So much and so little has happened since I moved here. First and foremost, I was relieved to find Mr. Wonderful was not false advertising. There was a small voice that was afraid that I would get here and maybe find out he was not who I thought he was. Who I was so sure he was. And how bad would that have sucked?
I talked to my grandma today and she asked about that. "Did he turn out to be who you think he is?" I said, "Yes, grandma- he's actually even better than I thought." That was a beautiful moment in my life. To be able to brag to my grandparents about a man. I've never had boyfriends worth bragging about to my grandparents. Not in their eyes, anyway. I mean, it's not like they would have picked Mr. Wonderful had this been an arranged marriage and it was their choice. No, they probably would have thought he was eccentric. Which he so totally is. And it fits me beautifully. I am, admittedly, a total oddball myself. I know, I know, try to conceal your shock. But seriously. I am so freakin neurotic about some things(again: newsflash!) and here's this guy who GETS IT. Has his own tweaky quirks. But is also able to discuss our individual neurosis and the coping mechanisms we have for them in a calm rational logical manner. Fascinating creature, he is.
Second thing that occurred while here: I learned to trust another human beings ability to care for me. Not just me, mind you , my SON. Part of the deal with moving here is that school doesn't start here until Sept 7th. So I don't have a job until Sept 7th, see? So I am getting the last few checks from work, but it's piddly and doesn't do much more than provide us with some extra grocery money. What if I need something? What if I just WANT something? Will I have to explain it, justify it, and beg for it? Since it is not MY money I am currently spending?
He hands me his credit card. Tells me how much is in there, don't spend more than X amount, ok?
Uh, ok. (Me standing there dumbfounded.) Huh? You....trust me? You trust my ability to make good decisions regarding us, our lives together, and your freaking bank account???
WOW.
W- fucking -ow.
~long blown away silence~
Perhaps this extending of the olive branch of trust was what pushed me in the right direction. Perhaps Mr. Wonderful knew it would have that effect and did it on purpose (he IS mighty smart about how my mind operates). But however it worked, it worked. I am getting less stricken with anxiety any time money needs to be discussed, and more able to discuss it in a rational manner, a rational tone, instead of feeling like we're talking about money but it's really a doublespeak to discuss blowing up the earth itself.
Yah, I never said I was sane, people. Deal with it. I do every day. In my defense, there are traumatic reason for all of my little idiosyncrasies, and even if their aren't, well tough shit. I'm a freak. I am well aware.
Which brings me to the third thing that is occurring: I am gaining some newfound acceptance of myself. Much of this has to do with being loved and understood. Simply astounding. The rest of it has to do with a book I"m reading, which I am currently too damn tired to get up and tell you what it's called or who writes it. I"ll tell you all about it soon. Anyway, it's about Buddhism, and the practice of being present. And the acceptance of who you are, how all the little seeming conflicts within your being can actually CO-EXIST. There have been so many mind blowing bits in this book I could sit here and quote it all day (or night). I had planned on blogging all about it today but then the cable provider took a dump today and splat- no internet. The Pain! Yah, yah, anyway, the book is blowing me away left and right. I feel like it is giving me actual tangible tools for controlling my anxiety (I am prone to debilitating panic attacks, it many different forms). All around, I think this book is wicked awesome. yah.
Some of this acceptance is also due to the fact that I am not working. I had a very difficult time coming to terms with this idea. I mean, I'm sure lots of people would jump at it, but I was not raised to be a slacker. You pull your weight or you just plain suck. To be able bodies and not work = loser, right? No. But it's still difficult to not feel guilty while Mr. Wonderful goes to work and me and my son are hanging out at the park or walking the boardwalk at the beach or whatever. Then one day I came to realize that this time is a very precious gift. I have someone who is taking care of me, of us, and I can relax.
I can relax.
Whoooooaaa-oa-oa-oa-oa.
What a concept.
And I realized the other day how much Stress is part of my identity. Without stress, who am I? I see myself as a woman under a shitload of stress- that's how it's been for as long as I can remember now....But .....
I am not Stress.
It is not Me.
And I see how I have adopted this stupid thing as my reality, and how I have adopted this stoic attitude as a part of my identity.
I don't want to be stoic. I want to have the ability to be, should the need arise. But it's not a quality I need to embrace as part of my psyche on a day to day basis. You dig?
Anyway, it's late and I should be in bed! But I"ve had so much running thorough my head- and it's so hard to blog while my son is awake and in the same room watching Scooby Do. Scooby Do babbling in ones ears, does not an intelligent insightful blog make. As far as I can tell. Perhaps Scooby Do is the path to enlightenment. I kinda doubt it, but who knows.
My forty winks awaits.....
So much and so little has happened since I moved here. First and foremost, I was relieved to find Mr. Wonderful was not false advertising. There was a small voice that was afraid that I would get here and maybe find out he was not who I thought he was. Who I was so sure he was. And how bad would that have sucked?
I talked to my grandma today and she asked about that. "Did he turn out to be who you think he is?" I said, "Yes, grandma- he's actually even better than I thought." That was a beautiful moment in my life. To be able to brag to my grandparents about a man. I've never had boyfriends worth bragging about to my grandparents. Not in their eyes, anyway. I mean, it's not like they would have picked Mr. Wonderful had this been an arranged marriage and it was their choice. No, they probably would have thought he was eccentric. Which he so totally is. And it fits me beautifully. I am, admittedly, a total oddball myself. I know, I know, try to conceal your shock. But seriously. I am so freakin neurotic about some things(again: newsflash!) and here's this guy who GETS IT. Has his own tweaky quirks. But is also able to discuss our individual neurosis and the coping mechanisms we have for them in a calm rational logical manner. Fascinating creature, he is.
Second thing that occurred while here: I learned to trust another human beings ability to care for me. Not just me, mind you , my SON. Part of the deal with moving here is that school doesn't start here until Sept 7th. So I don't have a job until Sept 7th, see? So I am getting the last few checks from work, but it's piddly and doesn't do much more than provide us with some extra grocery money. What if I need something? What if I just WANT something? Will I have to explain it, justify it, and beg for it? Since it is not MY money I am currently spending?
He hands me his credit card. Tells me how much is in there, don't spend more than X amount, ok?
Uh, ok. (Me standing there dumbfounded.) Huh? You....trust me? You trust my ability to make good decisions regarding us, our lives together, and your freaking bank account???
WOW.
W- fucking -ow.
~long blown away silence~
Perhaps this extending of the olive branch of trust was what pushed me in the right direction. Perhaps Mr. Wonderful knew it would have that effect and did it on purpose (he IS mighty smart about how my mind operates). But however it worked, it worked. I am getting less stricken with anxiety any time money needs to be discussed, and more able to discuss it in a rational manner, a rational tone, instead of feeling like we're talking about money but it's really a doublespeak to discuss blowing up the earth itself.
Yah, I never said I was sane, people. Deal with it. I do every day. In my defense, there are traumatic reason for all of my little idiosyncrasies, and even if their aren't, well tough shit. I'm a freak. I am well aware.
Which brings me to the third thing that is occurring: I am gaining some newfound acceptance of myself. Much of this has to do with being loved and understood. Simply astounding. The rest of it has to do with a book I"m reading, which I am currently too damn tired to get up and tell you what it's called or who writes it. I"ll tell you all about it soon. Anyway, it's about Buddhism, and the practice of being present. And the acceptance of who you are, how all the little seeming conflicts within your being can actually CO-EXIST. There have been so many mind blowing bits in this book I could sit here and quote it all day (or night). I had planned on blogging all about it today but then the cable provider took a dump today and splat- no internet. The Pain! Yah, yah, anyway, the book is blowing me away left and right. I feel like it is giving me actual tangible tools for controlling my anxiety (I am prone to debilitating panic attacks, it many different forms). All around, I think this book is wicked awesome. yah.
Some of this acceptance is also due to the fact that I am not working. I had a very difficult time coming to terms with this idea. I mean, I'm sure lots of people would jump at it, but I was not raised to be a slacker. You pull your weight or you just plain suck. To be able bodies and not work = loser, right? No. But it's still difficult to not feel guilty while Mr. Wonderful goes to work and me and my son are hanging out at the park or walking the boardwalk at the beach or whatever. Then one day I came to realize that this time is a very precious gift. I have someone who is taking care of me, of us, and I can relax.
I can relax.
Whoooooaaa-oa-oa-oa-oa.
What a concept.
And I realized the other day how much Stress is part of my identity. Without stress, who am I? I see myself as a woman under a shitload of stress- that's how it's been for as long as I can remember now....But .....
I am not Stress.
It is not Me.
And I see how I have adopted this stupid thing as my reality, and how I have adopted this stoic attitude as a part of my identity.
I don't want to be stoic. I want to have the ability to be, should the need arise. But it's not a quality I need to embrace as part of my psyche on a day to day basis. You dig?
Anyway, it's late and I should be in bed! But I"ve had so much running thorough my head- and it's so hard to blog while my son is awake and in the same room watching Scooby Do. Scooby Do babbling in ones ears, does not an intelligent insightful blog make. As far as I can tell. Perhaps Scooby Do is the path to enlightenment. I kinda doubt it, but who knows.
My forty winks awaits.....
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
story I received as e-mail......
Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighboring kingdom. The monarch could have killed him but was moved by Arthur's youth and ideals. So, the monarch offered him his freedom, as long as he could answer a very difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer and, if after a year, he still had no answer, he would be put to death.
The question?...What do women really want? Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end.
He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everyone: the princess, the priests, the wise men and even the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer.
Many people advised him to consult the old witch, for only she would have the answer.
But the price would be high; as the witch was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.
The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no choice but to talk to the witch. She agreed to answer the question, but he would have to agree to her price first.
The old witch wanted to marry Sir Lancelot, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend!
Young Arthur was horrified. She was hunchbacked and hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, made obscene noises, etc. He had never encountered such a repugnant creature in all his life.
He refused to force his friend to marry her and endure such a terrible burden, but Lancelot, learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur.
He said nothing was too big of a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table.
Hence, a wedding was proclaimed and the witch answered Arthur's question thus:
What a woman really wants, she answered....is to be in charge of her own life.
Everyone in the kingdom instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared.
And so it was, the neighboring monarch granted Arthur his freedom and Lancelot and the witch had a wonderful wedding.
The honeymoon hour approached and Lancelot, steeling himself for a horrific experience, entered the bedroom. But, what a sight awaited him. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, lay before him on the bed. The astounded Lancelot asked what had happened.
The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she appeared as a witch, she would henceforth, be her horrible deformed self only half the time and the beautiful maiden the other half.
Which would he prefer? Beautiful during the day...or night?
Lancelot pondered the predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his castle, an old witch? Or, would he prefer having a hideous witch during the day, but by night, a beautiful woman for him to enjoy wondrous, intimate moments?
What would YOU do?
Noble Lancelot, knowing the answer the witch gave Arthur to his question, said that he would allow HER to make the choice herself.
Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time because he had respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.
Now....what is the moral to this story?
The moral is....
If you don't let a woman have her own way....
Things are going to get ugly.
The question?...What do women really want? Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end.
He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everyone: the princess, the priests, the wise men and even the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer.
Many people advised him to consult the old witch, for only she would have the answer.
But the price would be high; as the witch was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.
The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no choice but to talk to the witch. She agreed to answer the question, but he would have to agree to her price first.
The old witch wanted to marry Sir Lancelot, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend!
Young Arthur was horrified. She was hunchbacked and hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, made obscene noises, etc. He had never encountered such a repugnant creature in all his life.
He refused to force his friend to marry her and endure such a terrible burden, but Lancelot, learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur.
He said nothing was too big of a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table.
Hence, a wedding was proclaimed and the witch answered Arthur's question thus:
What a woman really wants, she answered....is to be in charge of her own life.
Everyone in the kingdom instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared.
And so it was, the neighboring monarch granted Arthur his freedom and Lancelot and the witch had a wonderful wedding.
The honeymoon hour approached and Lancelot, steeling himself for a horrific experience, entered the bedroom. But, what a sight awaited him. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, lay before him on the bed. The astounded Lancelot asked what had happened.
The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she appeared as a witch, she would henceforth, be her horrible deformed self only half the time and the beautiful maiden the other half.
Which would he prefer? Beautiful during the day...or night?
Lancelot pondered the predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his castle, an old witch? Or, would he prefer having a hideous witch during the day, but by night, a beautiful woman for him to enjoy wondrous, intimate moments?
What would YOU do?
Noble Lancelot, knowing the answer the witch gave Arthur to his question, said that he would allow HER to make the choice herself.
Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time because he had respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.
Now....what is the moral to this story?
The moral is....
If you don't let a woman have her own way....
Things are going to get ugly.
goofy, but fun
YOU ARE THE FAIRY GODMOTHER! . It is 2034. Again
you spent your day helping people in time of
need. A couple of years went by, but your heart
was always at the right place. No one could
keep you from giving. Some people see this as
your biggest gift and some think this is your
biggest weakness. Whatever you helped plenty of
people and this makes you satisfied. If you are
sad, you just increase your generosity to feel
better. Your generosity IS your biggest gift
because it makes your life worth living
together with friendship, loyalty and love. It
is true that some people may draw on you
generosity but you still believe that every
person is good inside. Your children will never
feel alone. Never ever. And life will never
treat you bad. If you fall down you will stand
up, if something happens you will get over it.
Do you like your future life? If not, think about
it.
Think once about the future: how will you end up in 30 years? Will you like what you see?
brought to you by Quizilla
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
I always live upstairs, due to having been stalked and vague paranoia in general. But here at Mr. Wonderfuls (where we will reside until the 18th, which is the move in date on our new place, yah, the third floor) we live on the bottom floor. Yah, it's easier to move in and out, and carry groceries and bikes and anything else...but I can't open the windows or sliding glass door without being on full alert, and that kind of sucks. Well, it's too damn hot here in the middle of the summer to open them anyway...but it is really freaky to me to be sitting here and the door 8 feet away and people walk by. Ok, men. Men walk by. And it freaks me out. I don't like it. I am home, and home is about personal space, as in everybody get the hell out of mine. Here they have the apartments set up parallel, so the neighbors windows are even with ours... I don't like it! Ok, it may have something to do with me growing up and my neighbor being a peeping Tom. I have been stalked by two ex boyfriends- well, we could count the third, though that was more drunken stupidity then actual stalking, but he sure did manage to show up at odd times...in odd places...like my roof.
I digress.
At any rate, I can't remember the last time I lived on a bottom floor- and the point of this long ramble is this:
having neighbors upstairs is noisy.
Very noisy.
As a matter of fact, I've been pondering what in the bloody hell these people upstairs are DOING. The first few days I awoke to the sound of a buffalo tromping down the stairs. Now, Mr. Wonderful and my son both sleep like the dead, so neither one of them could confirm that there were, indeed, buffalo living upstairs or at least migrating down the stairs at 5 am. I finally decided it had to be a very clumsy clod footed girl wearing giant wooden platform shoes, and perhaps she would benefit from an annonymous ballet lessons gift certificate in her mailbox? Well, curiousity didn't take long till I leapt up at 5 am to look outside and see what's up...eh (shrug) turns out to be some guy with tennis shoes on. He's not even overweight. I don't know what the hell his problem is with walking, but the ceiling creaks in protest whenever he walks around. Which is ALL THE TIME. Seriously. It's even driving my son crazy. I'm putting him to bed last night and creak~creak~creak~THUMP~creak~creak..... creak~creak~THUMP~THUMP~ creak~creak~creak~creak~creak~THUMP~ ....finally my son says sleepily to me, "I want to go up there and just smack them in the mouth"....
(hysterical peals of laughter)
Oh! From the mouths of babes!....anyway...
I'm sitting here this morning listening to him squeek, thump and creak his way across the floor, back and forth and back and forth, and trying to figure wtf this guy is DOING??? Does he ever sit down? Is he just pacing? It sound like he's doing something...and is really busy doing it. But since he does it all the time, what the hell could it be? Is it some compulsionary thing where he's carrying every item he owns from one room to another, one at time, then moves them all back again? Is he jacked out on crack and just walking back and forth, looking out the windows and shit? Does he have a collection of turtles that he's trying to keep in a little stack, but they keep wandering off and he has to repeatedly fetch them and restack them? I just....I don't know...I'm having a tough time imagining what he could possibly be up to.
Hmmmm.
I digress.
At any rate, I can't remember the last time I lived on a bottom floor- and the point of this long ramble is this:
having neighbors upstairs is noisy.
Very noisy.
As a matter of fact, I've been pondering what in the bloody hell these people upstairs are DOING. The first few days I awoke to the sound of a buffalo tromping down the stairs. Now, Mr. Wonderful and my son both sleep like the dead, so neither one of them could confirm that there were, indeed, buffalo living upstairs or at least migrating down the stairs at 5 am. I finally decided it had to be a very clumsy clod footed girl wearing giant wooden platform shoes, and perhaps she would benefit from an annonymous ballet lessons gift certificate in her mailbox? Well, curiousity didn't take long till I leapt up at 5 am to look outside and see what's up...eh (shrug) turns out to be some guy with tennis shoes on. He's not even overweight. I don't know what the hell his problem is with walking, but the ceiling creaks in protest whenever he walks around. Which is ALL THE TIME. Seriously. It's even driving my son crazy. I'm putting him to bed last night and creak~creak~creak~THUMP~creak~creak..... creak~creak~THUMP~THUMP~ creak~creak~creak~creak~creak~THUMP~ ....finally my son says sleepily to me, "I want to go up there and just smack them in the mouth"....
(hysterical peals of laughter)
Oh! From the mouths of babes!....anyway...
I'm sitting here this morning listening to him squeek, thump and creak his way across the floor, back and forth and back and forth, and trying to figure wtf this guy is DOING??? Does he ever sit down? Is he just pacing? It sound like he's doing something...and is really busy doing it. But since he does it all the time, what the hell could it be? Is it some compulsionary thing where he's carrying every item he owns from one room to another, one at time, then moves them all back again? Is he jacked out on crack and just walking back and forth, looking out the windows and shit? Does he have a collection of turtles that he's trying to keep in a little stack, but they keep wandering off and he has to repeatedly fetch them and restack them? I just....I don't know...I'm having a tough time imagining what he could possibly be up to.
Hmmmm.
pokemon pondering
Pokemon masters run around and find pokemon running free then trap them in pokeballs...then use them to fight battles with other pokemon.
YET!
The pokemon are usually extremely loyal to their pokemon masters. Grateful, even.
Kind of like cockfighting or some crap.
But happy.
What a bizarre freaky cartoon.
YET!
The pokemon are usually extremely loyal to their pokemon masters. Grateful, even.
Kind of like cockfighting or some crap.
But happy.
What a bizarre freaky cartoon.
"Live in joy,
In love,
Even among those who hate.
Live in joy,
In health,
Even among the afflicted.
Live in joy,
In peace,
Even among the troubled.
Look within.
Be still.
Free from fear and attachment,
Know the sweet joy of the way."
-from the Dhammapada
I was reading the Dhammapada while waiting to get my drivers license, and came across this verse that day....I found it to be comforting, because I've wondered how it is I can be happy when there is unhappiness around me; do I help them? Enjoy my own happiness? Deny them help, as it is their own karmic path to deal with? What about compassion? Where is the boundary between myself and my fellow man?
I realize the boundary is within- to stay centered. If I cannot walk among the troubled without feeling troubled myself, I can be of no use to them, now can I?
In love,
Even among those who hate.
Live in joy,
In health,
Even among the afflicted.
Live in joy,
In peace,
Even among the troubled.
Look within.
Be still.
Free from fear and attachment,
Know the sweet joy of the way."
-from the Dhammapada
I was reading the Dhammapada while waiting to get my drivers license, and came across this verse that day....I found it to be comforting, because I've wondered how it is I can be happy when there is unhappiness around me; do I help them? Enjoy my own happiness? Deny them help, as it is their own karmic path to deal with? What about compassion? Where is the boundary between myself and my fellow man?
I realize the boundary is within- to stay centered. If I cannot walk among the troubled without feeling troubled myself, I can be of no use to them, now can I?
Monday, August 09, 2004
This evening I'm in the grocery store with my son and Mr. Wonderful. The cashier is making comments about my sons "dad" (referring to Mr. Wonderful) which my son fails to notice. I, however, notice. And I take extremely guilty pleasure (extreme pleasure + guilt, that is) in it, like, oh yah, we're just your normal average family, out shopping. Yah, that's us. Here we are, a happy little family, tra la la, buying some good old grocery items. Yup.
Truth is, since the day my son was born I've never had that. He's never had that. I dare say Mr. Wonderfuls likely never been confused for some boys dad either. At any rate, I got a real rush out of it.
Whether or not it's ok to get off on delusion, I'm not so sure. But the fact is I did.
I so totally did.
Truth is, since the day my son was born I've never had that. He's never had that. I dare say Mr. Wonderfuls likely never been confused for some boys dad either. At any rate, I got a real rush out of it.
Whether or not it's ok to get off on delusion, I'm not so sure. But the fact is I did.
I so totally did.
Sunday, August 08, 2004
"I believe there is an important distinction to be made between religion and spirituality. Religion I take to be concerned with belief in the claims to salvation of one faith tradition or another--an aspect of which is acceptance of some form of meta-physical or philosophical reality, including perhaps an idea of heaven or hell. Connected with this are religious teachings or dogma, ritual, prayers and so on. Spirituality I take to be concerned with those qualities of the human spirit--such as love and compassion, patience, tolerance, forgiveness, contentment, a sense of responsibility, a sense of harmony, which bring happiness to both self and others."
-His Holiness the Dalai Lama
-His Holiness the Dalai Lama
Saturday, August 07, 2004
Mt. Trashmore
Ah, Virginia Beach, you're so funny.
So, they took an old garbage dump, covered it with dirt, then grass, then filled the whole area in with multiple playgrounds, picnic areas, a skate park, etc. The place is great. And they actually named it Mt. Trashmore. Now that's some serious balls. Because you know it looks funny to be driving down the highway and see "Mt. Trashmore, next exit". It seems like they could have named it something elusive or at least misleading....but then everyone would have nicknamed it Mt. Trashmore anyway...so they just said, "Screw it, we'll just call it Mt. Trashmore."
Today the weather here is awesome, it was yesterday too. It's cool, around 78 degrees, which is chilly for Virginia Beach. So everyone and their brother was at Mt. Trashmore today. People were flying kites and walking around, and me, my son and Mr. Wonderful went to play frisbee. It was Mr. Wonderfuls idea.
I'm not sure I can convey my pleasure at having a boyfriend who is not a slug. For the last 7-8 years at least, I have dated sloths. Or slugs. Or alcoholics. Whatever you want to call it. So today I am standing there in the sun, whipping a frisbee back and forth and watching my son and Mr. Wonderful running around in the sunshine and thinking that I don't even know how great my life suddenly became. I think if it dawned on me all at once I may have a complete meltdown. Geez, I got all choked up this morning at the grocery store, for Pete's sake. I mean, the information is located somewhere in my brain but my brain seems to be doling it out in small doses, for fear of implosion, perhaps. Spontaneous combustion? I don't know. But it's weird- I keep thinking I must be deluding myself, for happiness this complete combined with a feeling like life is finally going to be ok...well, that's just not possible, right?
(long pause with lips pursed in thought)
Have I really become this jaded?
It appears I have.
That's so incredibly sad.
When did that happen? Was it a slow process? Has it been happening for years? I feel I need to follow it back to the source and weed it out.
Well, until then, I'm going to go back to Mt. Trashmore and hang out. Mr. Wonderful is just about finished fixing up my sons bike, and it's time to go play.
Phenomenal.
So, they took an old garbage dump, covered it with dirt, then grass, then filled the whole area in with multiple playgrounds, picnic areas, a skate park, etc. The place is great. And they actually named it Mt. Trashmore. Now that's some serious balls. Because you know it looks funny to be driving down the highway and see "Mt. Trashmore, next exit". It seems like they could have named it something elusive or at least misleading....but then everyone would have nicknamed it Mt. Trashmore anyway...so they just said, "Screw it, we'll just call it Mt. Trashmore."
Today the weather here is awesome, it was yesterday too. It's cool, around 78 degrees, which is chilly for Virginia Beach. So everyone and their brother was at Mt. Trashmore today. People were flying kites and walking around, and me, my son and Mr. Wonderful went to play frisbee. It was Mr. Wonderfuls idea.
I'm not sure I can convey my pleasure at having a boyfriend who is not a slug. For the last 7-8 years at least, I have dated sloths. Or slugs. Or alcoholics. Whatever you want to call it. So today I am standing there in the sun, whipping a frisbee back and forth and watching my son and Mr. Wonderful running around in the sunshine and thinking that I don't even know how great my life suddenly became. I think if it dawned on me all at once I may have a complete meltdown. Geez, I got all choked up this morning at the grocery store, for Pete's sake. I mean, the information is located somewhere in my brain but my brain seems to be doling it out in small doses, for fear of implosion, perhaps. Spontaneous combustion? I don't know. But it's weird- I keep thinking I must be deluding myself, for happiness this complete combined with a feeling like life is finally going to be ok...well, that's just not possible, right?
(long pause with lips pursed in thought)
Have I really become this jaded?
It appears I have.
That's so incredibly sad.
When did that happen? Was it a slow process? Has it been happening for years? I feel I need to follow it back to the source and weed it out.
Well, until then, I'm going to go back to Mt. Trashmore and hang out. Mr. Wonderful is just about finished fixing up my sons bike, and it's time to go play.
Phenomenal.
stupid commercials
I heard an absolute jem the other day. My son is watching TV and I'm in the other room but can overhear, "The best kept secret!" and then, "Come see what everyone is talking about!"
Ok, if everyone is talking about it, I sincerely doubt it is the best kept secret.
(rolling eyes)
Oiy.
Ok, if everyone is talking about it, I sincerely doubt it is the best kept secret.
(rolling eyes)
Oiy.
Friday, August 06, 2004
Argh-
Trying to recapture yesterdays blog.....
Hmmm.
I'm so used to being stressed out by life in general, I find it difficult to experience it any other way. I am aware that this is not correct, by the way. I am aware it is a panic disorder. Disorder.....snort! Yes, there appears to be a lack of order in my brain...or at least an incorrect prioritizing of things. I am consciously working on reassigning priority to joyful things, to happiness and laughter and fun. It's hard to reassign those things when there aren't enough of them. So gaining more happy moments became my priority. Still is. Which brings me to my blog from yesterday....
After weeks of stressing about moving, after weeks of waking up and immediately being stricken with panic over moving, after spending a day in the blazing hot sun packing all my stuff into a U Haul, ALONE!, after actually driving that rickety feeling U Haul all the way to Virginia Beach, unloading it and arranging the chaotic piles of STUFF (not crap, honey, it's just stuff hee hee)....with all that accomplished, I woke up yesterday and realized I felt really odd. Different. Then it dawned on me (pun intended) that I was waking up HAPPY. Happy. And I laid there in a puddle of my own happy contentment (puddle?) and got all choked up. Mr. Wonderful at my side, and all is well with the world....
~SIGH~
Yah.
Trying to recapture yesterdays blog.....
Hmmm.
I'm so used to being stressed out by life in general, I find it difficult to experience it any other way. I am aware that this is not correct, by the way. I am aware it is a panic disorder. Disorder.....snort! Yes, there appears to be a lack of order in my brain...or at least an incorrect prioritizing of things. I am consciously working on reassigning priority to joyful things, to happiness and laughter and fun. It's hard to reassign those things when there aren't enough of them. So gaining more happy moments became my priority. Still is. Which brings me to my blog from yesterday....
After weeks of stressing about moving, after weeks of waking up and immediately being stricken with panic over moving, after spending a day in the blazing hot sun packing all my stuff into a U Haul, ALONE!, after actually driving that rickety feeling U Haul all the way to Virginia Beach, unloading it and arranging the chaotic piles of STUFF (not crap, honey, it's just stuff hee hee)....with all that accomplished, I woke up yesterday and realized I felt really odd. Different. Then it dawned on me (pun intended) that I was waking up HAPPY. Happy. And I laid there in a puddle of my own happy contentment (puddle?) and got all choked up. Mr. Wonderful at my side, and all is well with the world....
~SIGH~
Yah.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
"Remember the clear light, the pure clear white light from which everything in the universe comes, to which everything in the universe returns; the original nature of your own mind. The natural state of the universe unmanifest.
Let go into the clear light, trust it, merge with it. It is your own true nature, it is home."
-Tibetan Book of the Dead
Let go into the clear light, trust it, merge with it. It is your own true nature, it is home."
-Tibetan Book of the Dead
packing....
....gets to be more fun the farther along I get.
At first it seems to be a tedious chore. An overwhelming mountain of STUFF. But as I've been going through it all and separating between bring-toss-goodwill, it's starting to take the definite shape of LEAVING.
It feels good.
At 1 am, it better feel good.
Hmmmm....it's feeling accomplished.
And that is a yummy feeling.
I like getting rid of stuff more than anything else, I notice. The process of letting go is awesome.
At first it seems to be a tedious chore. An overwhelming mountain of STUFF. But as I've been going through it all and separating between bring-toss-goodwill, it's starting to take the definite shape of LEAVING.
It feels good.
At 1 am, it better feel good.
Hmmmm....it's feeling accomplished.
And that is a yummy feeling.
I like getting rid of stuff more than anything else, I notice. The process of letting go is awesome.
Monday, August 02, 2004
Predicament
Hmmmmm. Ran out of packing tape before I ran out of boxes. Still would run out of boxes before I ran out of stuff.
packing.....
...and thinking....and freaking out in general.....
I've been so emotional tonight. Up down, high low... so I finally plopped myself into a hot bath to contemplate my mood swings. Not that I have time for a bath. But I also don't have time to be rendered useless while melting into a heap of tears.
So. I realized I am afraid.
I am not afraid of my relationship with Mr. Wonderful, or more specifically, his intentions.
What I am afraid of is my ability to be a good girlfriend. I have no practice in being in a healthy relationship. This is new ground for me. I am used to alcoholic, co-dependent, mistrusting, dishonest relationships.
There have been many occasions already that I have stumbled upon the fact that I don't know how to act.
I know he's patient with me. But sometimes I hurt his feelings and I don't mean to...
that's what I'm afraid of.
Food for thought.
I've been so emotional tonight. Up down, high low... so I finally plopped myself into a hot bath to contemplate my mood swings. Not that I have time for a bath. But I also don't have time to be rendered useless while melting into a heap of tears.
So. I realized I am afraid.
I am not afraid of my relationship with Mr. Wonderful, or more specifically, his intentions.
What I am afraid of is my ability to be a good girlfriend. I have no practice in being in a healthy relationship. This is new ground for me. I am used to alcoholic, co-dependent, mistrusting, dishonest relationships.
There have been many occasions already that I have stumbled upon the fact that I don't know how to act.
I know he's patient with me. But sometimes I hurt his feelings and I don't mean to...
that's what I'm afraid of.
Food for thought.
Tomorrow is moving day.
Today is packing day.
Which means today is unhook the computer day.
But not yet.
Strangely, today of all days should stress me out. I have to have everything packed and ready to go. It all needs to be done today. And yet...
I find this comforting. Today I do it all. I find something weird about this. Perhaps the stress of deciding what gets packed when....is now over. It all gets packed now. Pretty simple. Maybe it's the fact that this part of the stress is almost over and that is in and of itself a relief.
I don't know.
More later, no doubt.
Today is packing day.
Which means today is unhook the computer day.
But not yet.
Strangely, today of all days should stress me out. I have to have everything packed and ready to go. It all needs to be done today. And yet...
I find this comforting. Today I do it all. I find something weird about this. Perhaps the stress of deciding what gets packed when....is now over. It all gets packed now. Pretty simple. Maybe it's the fact that this part of the stress is almost over and that is in and of itself a relief.
I don't know.
More later, no doubt.
Sunday, August 01, 2004
"Even in the case of individuals, there is no possibility to feel happiness through anger. If in a difficult situation one becomes disturbed internally, overwhelmed by mental discomfort, then external things will not help at all. However, if despite external difficulties or problems, internally one's attitude is of love, warmth, and kindheartedness, then problems can be faced and accepted."
-His Holiness the Dalai Lama
-His Holiness the Dalai Lama
control freaks of the world
Before starting, let me state that there is a huge difference between control freaks who take sadistic pleasure out of manipulating other people and the control freaks who are touchy about their environment in an effort to minimize getting hurt. I fall into the latter category, as do a number of people I know.
Beth and Erica came over yesterday, kind of a sad occasion as I'll be moving in 3 days...it was bittersweet.
We all decide to go on a hair dying spree. So we truck off to the store and buy 5 different shades of dye and come back and dye our hair then put highlights in....the whole process takes 6 or 7 hours....WHEW!
Well, as we were in the store I'm looking at the mad amounts of colors and just overload. I want to do something daring and crazy cause I won't be working for at least a month, how often am I going to be able to do something nutty to my hair? But I decide I simply CAN'T decide and sit down on the floor. Erica says she will decide for me. Okey dokey, I say, that's just DANDY with me.
The crazy thing? Normally the thought of someone doing ANYTHING to my hair is a nerve wracking concept, but as I sat there and Erica and Beth were highlighting my hair and I had no say really in how it was done, or what color it was done, or anything at all...I realized how nice it was. I sat there and contemplated how I love these two women, and that I trusted them to make me look BETTER not WORSE. And that they would know me well enough to know what I would find in hideous taste and not do that to my head....
My point to this rambling blog is that relinquishing control to the people you love is a great act for control freaks. Not only is it relieving, but it instills a sense of support and caring and trust. In both me and them, I think.
Beth and Erica came over yesterday, kind of a sad occasion as I'll be moving in 3 days...it was bittersweet.
We all decide to go on a hair dying spree. So we truck off to the store and buy 5 different shades of dye and come back and dye our hair then put highlights in....the whole process takes 6 or 7 hours....WHEW!
Well, as we were in the store I'm looking at the mad amounts of colors and just overload. I want to do something daring and crazy cause I won't be working for at least a month, how often am I going to be able to do something nutty to my hair? But I decide I simply CAN'T decide and sit down on the floor. Erica says she will decide for me. Okey dokey, I say, that's just DANDY with me.
The crazy thing? Normally the thought of someone doing ANYTHING to my hair is a nerve wracking concept, but as I sat there and Erica and Beth were highlighting my hair and I had no say really in how it was done, or what color it was done, or anything at all...I realized how nice it was. I sat there and contemplated how I love these two women, and that I trusted them to make me look BETTER not WORSE. And that they would know me well enough to know what I would find in hideous taste and not do that to my head....
My point to this rambling blog is that relinquishing control to the people you love is a great act for control freaks. Not only is it relieving, but it instills a sense of support and caring and trust. In both me and them, I think.
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