No, Nope, Nuh Uh, Naw…

More often than not, I spend a large amount of my day making excuses. For any and everything. Explaining to clients why their 550 page book can’t be edited in an hour, explaining to distant relatives why I won’t have time to spend 2 hours a day on Skype with them to help them write their novel, explaining to close friends why I just can’t cook for the sixth day in a row because I’ve been so busy lately and….’and’ is the problem. So is ‘because’, ‘possibly’, ‘if’…the list goes on. There’s a quote that basically says that we have to learn to say no without explanation. Just ‘No’. I have problems doing so because, as a writer, I’m convinced that EVERYTHING must be thoroughly explained, in detail, so that it is understood. But explanation does not equal understanding, and more often than not people only hear what their listening for then tune out anyway so it’s hard to say that an explanation is ever really necessary. That’s what I’m working on currently. Saying ‘no’ and moving on to the next thing. Sounds easier than it is.

Katniss, Oh Katniss, do you like Nachos?

Obviously, I am not, by any means a fan of the Hunger Games series. The thought of a bunch of young people being chosen ‘at random’ by a bunch of old, elitist pricks does nothing for my already screwed up mental state. Regardless, I was enjoying a relaxing reading session when my sis-in-law decided that instead of reading (I mean really, who does that?), I should definitely watch Catching Fire with her. My polite decline went unnoticed. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever be a fan of this series. But, the nachos I just made go beautifully with it. Mind you, I’m all for watching people get murdered in horrible ways-but can we do it comedically? I am anxious and confused as hell 92.7% of the day; convinced that something awful is about to happen, so I typically prefer the comedic route as far as movies are concerned so that I can watch awful shit happen in a funny way. But, who says my preference matters at all??? Tuh! Anyway, consider this my mini-vent. I’m gonna continue munching away while half ignoring the harshness of this awful movie. I used a couple more expletives than usual in this post but fuck it, I’m angry, and this blog is NOT about you.

When someone shows you who they really are…

RUN! Haha, just kidding. If they’re a great person, walk quickly in their direction and give em a hug. An awful person? Leave the conversation in mid sentence. Really, just walk off. It’ll leave the crappy person stumped for a long time, which will hopefully make them readjust their awful attitude. Just my suggestion.

Life has been moving at warp speed lately. How the hell have we gotten to March already? My excitement for the spring weather is causing me to run in circles around the house and it’s beginning to affect the carpet. I get excited so easily! Isn’t that a good thing, though? I’d like to think so. And, if you disagree, you’re obviously one of the people I mentioned earlier (which means that someone definitely needs to walk away from you mid convo. Seriously…douche).

I’m watching Pawn Stars and I’ve managed to convince myself that I own a few items that are worth thousands. I’ll probably end up on either Pawn Stars or Antiques Roadshow one of these days…hopefully. I can see the disdain on my wife’s face now and honestly, that’s what will make it all worth it lol.

There’s work that I should be doing, but I’m making the conscious decision to procrastinate because…well, I can. And what better way to do so than to blog about every insignificant thought running through my mind right now. Who says ADD is a bad thing??? I guess, the moral of this story (post) is that if you’re an awful person, a pessimist (or a realist, which also happens to be a pessimist because most of the time life sucks), or someone who just happens to be anti-Adderall (Really? REALLY???), none of that really matters to me, because this blog is NOT about you.

That’s What She Said…

I’m not crazy. I realize that a ton of crazy people make that exact statement, but really, I’m not crazy. I’m passionate. I’m intuitive. I’m spontaneous. Crazy, I am not. Relationships are tough for me, well, relationships are tough in general. When you throw two people together with different backgrounds, experiences, and opinions, hell is guaranteed to break loose. Relationships are an emotional roller coaster that usually end in someone getting thrown off (or out, depending on your living situation) and the ride is pretty cool while it lasts. You fly at high speeds toward some unimaginable goal with your hands in the air to simulate the freedom that you feel, then drop down into a dark valley and are left with your stomach in your throat, until you shoot back up again. Exhilarating, to say the least. But then, the ride ends, and you climb off; dizzied and disoriented, in search of another ride, hoping the line won’t be too long.

Relationships begin, end, and begin again depending on the whim of the participants. People enjoy trying out the different rides. Personally, I don’t mind roller coasters, but my favorite attraction at any theme park is the lazy river-marriage. You get comfy in a tube, stretch your legs, and relax in the sun while you float aimlessly around the park, watching the people get on and off the other attractions. There are slight dips here and there that throw you off balance, but sooner than later you’re back comfortably settled in the steady stream that is the lazy river. As eccentric as I am, the consistency of the river, as with the consistency of marriage relaxes me. 

My wife and I got married on a bit of a whim. Well, it may have seemed like a whim to her, but I knew I wanted to marry her by our second date (typical lesbian, lol). I think she’s amazing. Intelligent, caring, well-liked, all of the traits that matter in the person that you plan to spend the rest of your life with. I was more into roller coasters coming into our relationship, but the consistency of the river soon drew me in. Unfortunately, my previous love of roller coasters came back to haunt me in the worst way. Now, our tube has hit a divit (don’t they all? And right when you’ve began to nap!). I don’t like divits. They remind me too much of the coasters I moved away from. While many people have said that everything would be fine, and we’d maneuver around it, it’s only my wife that I believe (I mean, that’s obviously why I married her). So I’m writing this blog in order to distract myself from the divit, and focus more on the steady river ahead. 

Marriage is tough, but I’m tougher (that’s what she said). *sigh* They suck sometimes, but when they don’t suck, they’re really cool. And the cool part is worth all of the suckiness (I’d like to hope). If you disagree, it doesn’t matter, because this blog is NOT about you (or her, for that matter).

 

Cookies and Rehab…

I’m a foodie. Like, a MAJOR one, so I spend a ridiculous amount of time cooking, compiling lists of places I wanna try, and most definitely eating. It should be no surprise that my favorite pastime is, you guessed it, EATING! I am the queen of snackers. You’ll catch me at any given moment with a snickers, a pack of oreos, and 3 soft peppermints from Chick fil a in my purse. And when I carry a backpack…man! Just know there’s enough food and juice in there for 4 people to survive a 3 month zombie apocalypse (if they’re smart and can ration correctly, that is).

I’m currently munching on chocolate chip cookies and watching Rehab Addict on HGTV. I prefer to keep the tv on either that channel or Food Network, just in case I feel the overwhelming urge to build a cabinet or cook a four-course meal. Watching this show really makes me question my committment, though. Why? Well, because I thought I was a rehab addict once. My wife and I moved into this really cute house in a historical neighborhood that just ‘needed a little work’ which was fine. I mean, I’m obviously capable of working on the house, HGTV taught me! So, we get moved in and I find that, no, the whole rehab thing just isn’t for me at all. First, it’s dirty. Really dirty. Every freaking aspect of a rehab project ensures that you get dirty and, honestly, my OCD refused to allow that. Secondly, it’s labor intensive. As hell. Now, I’m not lazy, but I am not a fan of manual labor either. Just the thought of raking the yard makes me cringe.

Needless to say, I didn’t last very long in that house. My wife did most of the work and I was ready to go after the 2nd week there. Literally. The moral of this story: If there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself it’s that I like things ‘new’. That’s why I like food and cooking, because you make it new and fresh. You go to restaurants and eat ‘new’, freshly prepared food (or so we hope). HGTV works well for me because they get to do all the work, but the actual results are completely new to me. Good shit, really. It’s clear to see how that could be a huge personality flaw, though. We’ll save that for another post. I’m going to continue watching and munching, trying to figure out exactly how those contractors manage to get all of that dirt and nastiness off of them at the end of the day. I mean, what wife is gonna let that in bed? I make myself easy to judge, this I know, but it doesn’t matter at all because this blog is NOT about you.

I Clearly Should Have Been an Actress…

I have a love/hate relationship with musicals. They either annoy you while you’re there because of the incessant singing, dancing, and smiling in your general direction (really, NOBODY [who is sane] smiles that much), or you hear a tune so catchy that you spend days singing it in your mind, which leads to smiling (see first set of parenthesis for opinion on this). Either way, while it may be cute/entertaining at the time, musicals really just make for a bad week. Can you tell that I went to a musical last night? It was actually pretty good, which created a bigger issue for me: why the hell didn’t I become an actress?

Mind you, I’ve had my share of stage time. Ballet and other random competing dance troupes, theater club in high school, Oscar worthy performances in the bedroom (mind you, nobody really ‘wins’ in that situation). I’m also a great actress in everyday life. “That sweater, on you? Perfect! It goes so nicely with your eyes!”. If you asked my wife, I’m sure that she’d agree that my dramatic prose is beyond compare, in the best way, of course. Technically, all I’m missing is the ridiculously big house, the child named after an inanimate object or color, and a fan base. Nope, doesn’t seem difficult at all.

My whole issue with being an actress is the fact that they never seem to be ummm…how can I say this…happy. Or sane, for that matter. And happiness kinda matters to me a lot. Not that “We go on vacation every month and only eat at the finest restaurants” happy, but that “Remember that road trip where we were stuck in traffic and I held my pee for almost 3 hours??? That was fun!”. I’m simple, so in my little world, happiness is finally being able to go pee (Mind you, I have an overactive bladder, so I may give this subject a lot more credit than most). The sensation that occurs when you release all of the liquid that has been aching in your bowels is by far one of the most amazing feelings ever! Man! If that isn’t what happiness feels like, I don’t know what is! I don’t think there are any awards for that, but I’ll damn sure take it. So, yes, I did just almost convince myself that going to pee is MUCH better than being an actress, and I’m gonna believe it for the next 47 minutes. I’ll probably even go pee to reconfirm. This shit actually works for me, which is good to know, because this blog is NOT about you.

Simplicity, or something like it…

If there’s one important think to know about me, it’s that I keep it simple. Or, at least I think I do, until I don’t. Make sense? Maybe I said that all wrong. I TRY to keep it simple. I crave simple, long for simple and, sometimes, even get close enough to grasp it. Anxiety is a bitch, though. Anxiety is the difference between those cute butterflies you get when you like someone a little, and the actual heart palpitations that occur when someone scares the shit out of you and you think you’re about to die.

I’ve suffered from anxiety for my entire life. Growing up, when my mom would go to the store and take too long to come back, I would swear she’d gotten into a car accident. When I was running late for school, you could not convince me that on that exact day there would be truancy officers just waiting at the doors to take me in. To this day, anytime I get a phone call at an odd hour (which, for a writer, has to be REALLY odd, like, 1:47pm), I get chills and freak myself out enough to usually avoid even answering the call. And voicemails, my God, don’t even get me started! Throw some stress from work, school, or my relationship in there and you may as well count me out. On a regular basis, I am a WRECK!

I said all that to say this: I am OVER it! Anxiety has been the root of every one of my issues and I am tired! Sheesh! I’m tired of the headaches, the heart palpitations (I know I mentioned that earlier, but they REALLY suck), the racing thoughts, and the general unsteadiness that goes along with being unsure of EVERYTHING! The fact of the matter is that life is entirely too damn short to spend the whole thing being anxious about one thing or another.

Now, here’s the problem: I’ve spent the last 27 years being the way that I am, and my habit breaking skills are…subpar, to say the least (I mean, after 2 years of seeing a psychologist for ocd issues, the only CURE is that I don’t count my steps as often). They (whoever ‘they’ are) contend that it takes 21 days to form a habit. So, in essence, the only way to break a habit is by forming a new one in it’s place. That’s called counteracting a habit, and it sucks too. It sucks because for a while, you just have two habits in the place of what used to be one. And the new habit doesn’t feel like a good habit counteracting a bad habit, it feels like having to think about and react to everything TWICE. Ugh!

Regardless, if this is what I must do in order to become a ‘better’, more well-adjusted person, then so be it. And I’ve decided to do my counteracting in the grandest way possible, I’m gonna sing! Now, I’m no Beyonce (actually, I’m nowhere near beyonce, or any other singer for that matter because I can’t hold a note to save my soul. Whatever, I digress), but singing or humming seems to be the most effective way to block out any anxious thoughts. The noise and whatever song lyrics I make up as I go along will do a good job of redirecting the anxiety. Or, it should. I’ll keep you posted.

I have anxiety issues, so I’ve decided to sing, but I can’t sing, so now I’ve become anxious about singing lol. Such is my life, and it’s fine, because this blog is NOT about you.