Inside My Head

"ZONK! ZONK! ZONK!" My alarm clock screams at me. OMG, it's 7:30AM already?! I'll hit the snooze button a couple of times and maybe I'll gather the strength to get out of bed. (Snooze button, one.) Nope, can't do it. I'm not there yet. Good, I actually drift back off to sleep.  Sleep is not an easy task for me without Ambien or alcohol.  "ZONK! ZONK! ZONK!" (Snooze button, two.) Still not there. I'm gonna lay here until I absolutely HAVE to get up. "ZONK! ZONK! ZONK!" (Snooze button, three.) Not quite there. I'll just stare at my ceiling until I can swing my legs over the side of the bed. Sis bursts into the room and tells me that with the icy streets, I better try to get out earlier today. She's right. I drag myself to the bathroom and slowly slide the toothpaste over my toothbrush. I go back to bed and I brush my teeth while sitting on the end of my bed. I'm not happy.  I know it.  But worse still, I know I'm the only one who can do anything about it. This is gonna be hard. I decide to start my "dietary lifestyle change" today instead of the first of the year. It'll be my Christmas gift to myself. Well, a gift to my pants, that top button has been working way too hard lately.

I gotta make a change, I have to do SOMETHING.  I go back to the bathroom, rinse off my toothbrush and start the shower. Oh lawd, this'll be a hard day to get through. Sis reminds me to take my meds, offers me coffee, breakfast and to warm up the truck.  How can I be so sad with a sister so lovely? She's really an angel that's ALWAYS so good to me but she senses that I'm sad and takes even more mercy on me this morning. I shower and attempt to get dressed. Ugh, nothing looks right on me.  Oh well, I'll wear this...'comfort over cute' has been my motto lately, why stop now?  Thanks to Sis, the truck's warm and I start my morning trek for a paycheck.  Look at that jerk coming up so fast behind me!  Hey, there's ice everywhere, dumbazz!!! If this jerk runs into the back of me, I'm gonna get out of this truck and beat the azz of whoever's behind the wheel and I don't care how big they are. Good, they turned off.  I don't need to be fighting when I'm this stressed, I'm liable to kill. Especially when somebody changed my radio station from the classic rock station I'd been listening to for months but can't remember the station numbers to.  Figures.

Uh oh, I'm sad again.  Though I'm peeved to be listening to a station I'm not familiar with, I hear a voice I'm familiar with and I begin to feel hopeful and sad at the same time. Oh no, here come the waterworks.  Why am I crying? Oh, I dunno; this, that and the other. Sh!t, I hope I can see icy patches in the road through my tears.  Suck it up girl! You're a woman. You're a strong, intelligent woman that just needs to man up! Wow, there's hardly anybody on the roads this morning. Good for me because Texans aren't the best drivers on icy streets. Oh look, there's so few people at work that I even get a parking place in the front of the building today.  I'm not in the mood to work or see anyone but it's time for me to put on my workday game face and push myself through the day.  I'll reserve falling apart for when I get back home, maybe. Or, maybe I won't need to fall apart at all. I can do this. I got this. Breathe.  Okay, I think I can face the day...and I did.

It's now 1:27 AM, I'm STILL up and I have a few short hours to do this all over again, hopefully, better next time.  Funny thing is, no matter how bad the day starts, no matter how bad it goes and no matter how bad it ends, I'll be blessed to have another one.  I guess I should try to remember that. Yep, tomorrow will be a better day. Well, I'm certainly gonna try for one at least.  You know I'll keep you posted.  You're the only thing keeping me from strong anti-psychotic drugs and a long, extended stay at a mental hospital, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me.

Don't laugh, this is the song I heard on that radio station that made me cry.

http://chaunybaby.wordpress.com/2012/12/27/inside-my-head/

Awareness of the Assault on Innocence

Originally posted on December 21, 2012

As a continue to struggle to carve a little piece of contentment out of life for myself, I slide deeper into a dark depression. 😔 Last year, I made a very deliberate choice to not start any new relationships. 😒 I knew I wouldn't have enough of myself to give to another person and people who already know me, know to leave me be when I'm feeling anti-social (and they aren't offended by it.) 😐 Staying away from romantic situations has been a lot easier than I thought it would. 😔 Though I must confess, watching an endless amount of gay porn helped for a while but eventually, I just got even MORE depressed because I'm not a buff, gay male porn star, so that ended up being a complete and utter bust. 😶

I thought giving myself a whole year of meaningful introspection, freeing myself of cynical self-deprivation and not having to shave my pits, legs or cha-cha would make me feel empowered...but it hasn't. 😟 In fact, the world's atrocities on the innocent over the last year or so, have me taking on worry I hadn't even seen coming. 😑 I never expected to take on some much pain, hurt and heartbreak that was not squarely mine. 💔 Speaking of cha-chas, my gynecologist, who is a very well-respected, published OB-GYN, told me many years ago that she didn't want kids. I thought to myself 'What a weird choice of occupation for someone that never wanted children'. When I asked her why she felt that way, she simply said, "Why would anyone want to bring children into a world like this one?" I saw her point but I thought she was absolutely crazy. 😳 I knew then, that MY offspring would change the world. 🌎 It was my duty to create perfect children meant to make society a better place. I felt like MY gene pool was the stuff of legends...it still might be but what kind of world would I be unleashing on my mini-me(s)? I just don't know and that makes me very sad. 😞 The tears I've shed for society as whole lately, has probably been more than any other time in my entire life. Mass killings, mutilations, torture and bare-boned evil committed against our fellow human beings is almost too much to bear. 😭

Like so many others, I've wept uncontrollably at the thought of those sweet, innocent Connecticut school children gunned down like opponents of war.
*It made me immeasurably sad to know that the parents of one of 'the lost' took comfort in knowing that their fallen angel died in the arms of his favorite teacher.* Other parents took solace in knowing that their children's teacher was found huddled over her students, in an unsuccessful attempt to shield them from a barrage of bullets bursting through door of the closet they were hiding in. *Within that one horrific day, there are so many tragic stories of heroism, love and appreciation for life.* But to what end? It's really hard to get my mind around.

*I was sadly stunned when I found out that New York nanny Yoselyn Ortega had stabbed to death Leo and Lucia Krim, aged 2 and 6.*  She then placed their tiny, bloodied bodies in the bathtub and sat on the bathroom floor, waiting for the mother to come home (who'd taken her 3 year old to a swim lesson), to see her gruesome work. Marina Krim, the mother, knew this "woman" for years and had been recommended to her by a trusted family friend. The Krims had even taken a family vacation to meet Yoselyn's family in the Dominican Republic. This woman wasn't a spoiled New York housewife. She was an emotionally-present parent that dotted on her children. She even wrote in a daily blog about the immense joys of raising The Krim kids. After seeing her beautiful children's slaughtered bodies, she had to be taken away on a stretcher due to shock. How can one expect this level of inexplicable evil? How does one protect their families and themselves from this type altered reality? Is prevention of this type of event even possible? I don't see how. It's not just here in this country, it's everywhere. No place is safe and that's truly petrifying.

Then there's a brave 15 year old girl named Malala Yousufzai, who was shot in the head for openly blogging that girls in Pakistan deserved an education too. *Taliban gunmen stopped a school van driving her home, got on, asked which one was Malala and shot her in the head and neck at point-blank range.*  The assailants got away but Malala survived. For her protection and pristine medical care, she was transferred to a hospital in the United Kingdom. No doubt, she will grow up to be a fearless leader that can effect real change. I have no doubt her future will be bright but I just don't understand how GROWN people can be so cowardly and cruel to children. How can some have such little value for life? 

I cried openly when I read the story of a brave seven year old Bangladeshi boy named "Okkhoy", that was mutilated for refusing to beg. Child, forced-begging is a real problem in Bangladesh. The gang that openly perpetrates this crime has admitted to starving kids for days, keeping them in barrels at times, to make them weak and pliable for their forced task at hand. *In the case of Okkhoy, four men had surrounded him, bound his hands and feet, cracked open his head with a brick, held him down and took a switchblade to his throat.* These monsters then sliced his chest and belly in an upside down cross. And in a final act of perverse brutality, they chopped off his penis and his right testicle. He survived. Barely. His father sobbed convulsively as he screamed to the unconscious boy laying in his lap; "Listen to me! You cannot die!" His father cries and presses down on the boy's slashed-open stomach to keep the insides from spilling out, as the two ride on a rickshaw headed to a hospital in Dhaka. If you have time, you should really read his story because it is one of true triumph. Triumph aside, it's also so sad that someone so young should be tested with such grotesque evil.

There are literally dozens of other similar stories like these floating in my head.  I guess I've decided to be an avid reader of current events, in a bad, bad world.  Knowing this stuff gets me down but keeps me honest. I'm pretty intelligent but I just don't understand this world. Perhaps not knowing is protection from that which I cannot mentally handle.  I keep saying to myself; "This all has to make sense somehow, it just has to but maybe I'm not emotionally equipped to know." Maybe my head would spontaneously explode if I suddenly understood everything there is to understand about the world. Not good. I mean, who would want to be pelted with my wet, sticky brain matter? Sometimes, the actions of mankind are elusive at best but maybe that's a good thing. One of the few things I find some comfort in, is that I believe that we are all connected, to each other and to The Universe. In some weird way, we're all one with every living thing in The Cosmos.  Maybe the evil that men do is meant to teach us something powerful about each other.  I believe in God, I believe in evil and absent of severe mental illness, I also believe in the power of free will. We can't intentionally make this world hell on earth and then ask God to pull us out of our self-created suffering, we should be responsible for doing that ourselves. I mean really, that's the very least we can do.

*Author's Note*: The blue sentences are live links to the stories above. I encourage you to put aside some time to read them and discuss them with a loved one. Our shared repsonsibilty as a society is being educated, aware and informed about those around us. After all, we are all connected. Remember?

 

 http://chaunybaby.wordpress.com/2012/12/22/awareness-of-the-assault-on-innocence/

 

Diary of a Bad, Big-Boobed Babe‏

Originally posted on November 21, 2012

It's been a while now, hasn’t it? 🕰 Despite my last post, I haven’t “found religion”. 😇 Thanks to my monthly menstrual monster😡, I'm finding it hard to find folks I don't want to rip the lips off of.👄 I can count on one hand the people I DON'T have violent visions of a bloody public flogging. 😫 Frankly, as sentiments go, I'm much more comfortable expressing anger over sadness. 😠😢 Aren't you glad to know that now?

I'm peeved. I'm miffed. I'm pissed. 😤 I feel like ramming my fist down the throat of the next person that makes me mad(der). On days like these, laying on my horn, flipping the bird and screaming, “Get outta my way bitch!” at slow traffic, just doesn’t seem like enough. 😟 I’m in the mood to ‘scrap it up’, I wanna draw some blood, I feel like getting physical. 😣 I’m not interested in how your day is going. I don’t need you to weigh in with your opinion. I don’t care how you feel. Anyway, “feelings” are for suckers, unless you’re talking about MY feelings. The mere suggestion of stupidity directed at me will likely be met with sharp criticism and possibly a right cross. 🥊

Yeah sure, maybe I need to take a chill pill. 💊 Perhaps I need to calm down. 😑 Quite possibly I need to quit…but I don’t want to. 😖 I’m embracing my inner mean chick and I’m proud of it. 😄 Okay, okay, I know I’m not winning any fans here but I want to be straight up with you. I know I exemplify the epitome of The Angry Black Woman, and I’m perfectly fine with that. Like it or not, I am who I am but in all fairness, I’ll probably be someone else tomorrow(hopefully). Only time will tell. ⌚

On the eve of another Thanksgiving 🦃 I realize something else; No matter how angry I feel, no matter how negative I get, no matter how far below the belt I hit, I’m happy and thankful for two big reasons; I’ve been bountifully blessed with big boobs.😯 Even though I’m a really good swimmer, it’s good to know that with assets like these, I will never have to fear drowning. 💦 Health and happiness are fine and all but big boobs are a real reason to be thankful...never mind that I have everything else big to match. 😒

ChaunyShort Throw-Back™… an oldie but a goodie:

http://chaunybaby.wordpress.com

Practicing the Power of Prayer

Originally posted on September 28, 2012

Oh, where do I begin? It's been so long and so much has happened since my last post, I hardly know where to start. 😐 Okay, I'll begin at the beginning, which effectively is now. 🕰 My morale and motivation has been so low, I haven't been able to do much except drag myself out of bed each morning to go to work, just to go back home after a disappointing day. 😟 I really hate to write when I'm sad but unless I find a way to be happy (or at least content) all the time, I'll never be able to write again and I really don't want that. 🚫 Oh, how I've missed the sensation of purging my wretched gloominess through the magic clacking of my keyboard. 💻  I will also reluctantly admit this; I've decided to take the year off from any serious decision-making, romantic relationships or anything too heavy. I just don't have the stomach for any of that right now. 😰 Yes, 2012 has been a quietly mellow year for me...sort of. 😒 My extended absence from blogging has not been on accident. I've purposely hidden myself away as I've unsuccessfully tried to figure things out on my own. I've run into brick wall after brick wall in my numerous attempts to pull myself out of my dark depression and disappointment with the world (and myself). 💔 I've tried to tuck away my substantial sadness for my family and friends as they attempt to find their happiness too. ❤ I secretly snuck away to seek solace in a world not designed to provide any. 😞 I stubbornly clutched on to a hopeless existence because my hurt was too great to conquer on my own. 😟 I was a coward. A bum. A quitter. And on this very early morning, around 3AMish-when Sis was on a dark street outside looking for a dog that was patiently waiting for re-entry into the house in our backyard, it came to me. 🦮 Finally. 😶

See, I'm probably the complete opposite of a religious zealot. 😇 I certainly believe in God and his great powers but I don't think much of religion as a whole. ✟ If it helps you, more power to ya! Whatever floats your boat. I'm in absolute favor of anything that gets your soul right. ✔  In my case, however, I know people that attend church every week and are the most negative, back-biting, pessimistic and cynical people I've ever met. 😢 They speak horribly and gossip about their own families, friends, co-workers and fellow church attendees. ✝ I know that shouldn't be what influences me most about religion but I honestly must confess that it is. In an effort to become a 'true believer' that isn't a robotically religious conformist, I lost my way. I'd honestly forgotten about the power of prayer. 📿 Sure, I pray over my food in thanks. 🥘 I pray when a friend or loved one is sick. 😷 I pray in hopes of a happy ending to a tragic event. 😗 Heck, I even pray when I'm just asked to. 😉 But I neglected to pray every day for being healthy. I refrained from praying every day for the gratefulness I feel for my beautiful circle of family and friends. I forgot to pray every day for two nice vehicles, a beautiful home, gainful employment and more doggie dependents than I know what to do with. 💸 I should pray when I'm happy, sad, overwhelmed, excited, thankful and just for the privilege of being alive. 😀 As depressed as I get sometimes, I forget that though my lifestyle isn't for everyone, I'm still living a life a lot of people would love to have. I'd really, truly forgotten that. 😐 And as I restlessly laid in bed on this very early morning, I asked for forgiveness and strength to stay on my path of prayer, no matter how out of control life gets. Granted, I'm only in the "practice" stages but I'm determined to stay on my path because I really do believe in the power of prayer. 🕇

Look, I'm not even gonna pretend that I don't have a long way to go with this but I believe that knowing and admitting that is the first step. ☝ You can't get anywhere in life (or the afterlife) without taking that first, crucial step. Right? Anyway, I thought I should memorialize my epiphany here for anyone else that may have lost their way too, or even if someone needed a gentle 'reminder'. 😜 Practice makes perfect and prayer is powerful, so I just don't see how anyone can lose with that winning combination. 😁 (And Lord knows, I'm a winner. 😬)

"No one is a firmer believer in the power of prayer than the devil; not that he practices it, but he suffers from it."
-Guy H. King

"The greatest tragedy of life is not unanswered prayer, but an unoffered prayer."
-F.B. Meyer

"Seven days without prayer makes one weak."
-Allen Varlett

(I had the last quote down pat.)

http://chaunybaby.wordpress.com/2012/09/29/practicing-the-power-of-prayer/

 

The Painful Adventures of SuperChick

Boy, 2012 has been one rough year for me. First, I fall out of bed, onto a glass that ultimately shreds my finger, hand and backside.  A real bloodbath°.  Then, I have an allergic reaction to maintenance meds that had me looking like Moe Szyslak° from The Simpsons°. 😶  Mere weeks after that, I fall (knee first) so hard on a tile floor that my knee swells four times its normal size and STILL looks like it belongs on someone else's body. 🤢 Then finally, on my way to work this past Tuesday morning, I accidentally crash my truck into a telephone pole, possibly totaling it, which left me with an ugly, hickey-like seatbelt abrasion on my neck and a golf ball size lump in my right breast from the impact. 🥵 Damn, it isn't even July yet! It appears I have a jones for beating the hell out of myself.  I wonder how many limbs I'll still have by December. 😒 This year hasn't only been physically taxing, it's been pretty emotionally taxing too. Frankly, I prefer getting physically beat-up over being emotionally beat-up. I'm not sure if my painful physical injuries are some cosmic reflection of my inner self or some sort of punishment for my past indiscretions.  Who knows? I'm sure the real reason for my battered body and soul will come to light in due time. ✔ I just hope I'm still alive by the time the truth is revealed.  At the rate I'm going now, that doesn't seem very likely.  

Okay, I admit, I don't have a real direction for this entry. 🔂 I guess I'm just hoping that by memorializing my plight in my therapeutically healing blog, I'll somehow stop my rapid descent into pain (literally). I'm really having some major struggles but all-in-all, things could be much worse.  Even so, this has been no cake walk for me. 😔 I'm battered, bruised and downright broken. As I've always attested, I'm a pretty strong chick but I'm just not sure how much more of a beating my body can take. Even sexy superheroes like me have limits. I'm really struggling with being injury-free and losing the battle at almost every turn. And to think, I have 6 more months of this to go. If things continue to go the way they're going for me, I'll be lucky to still have my eyesight and all my motor functions by Thanksgiving. 🍗 I guess it's time to put my first payment down on that Hoveround°, service dog 🦮 and a year's supply of pain killers.  Hence the silver lining in this dark cloud. 🌤 Pain pills are a pitiful klutz' best pal, so is accidental death and dismemberment insurance.   📑 

°°°°°°°°°°°

Seriously y'all, it's all good. I'm SuperChick, remember?
°

http://chaunybaby.wordpress.com/2012/06/15/the-painful-adventures-of-superchick/

Beetles, Booze & Bad Azzes

Originally posted on June 8, 2012

Wow, it's been a minute hasn't it? Truth is, I haven't been motivated to do much lately. Hell, I'm barely motivated to finish this entry but I'll do my best. 👍 Among other things, suffocating conditions at work, a lackluster love life and the tragic loss of a friend of 20+ years (through disappointment, not death), have me aimlessly floating through life right now. 😐 Well, I should say aimlessly "hobbling" through life. In an unfortunate accident, I landed knee first on my sister's hard, tile floor. 😱 I was jumping up to squash a beetle on the ceiling with a shoe. I landed so hard that the massive swelling completely disguised the ginormous bruise underneath. I probably should've gone to the ER but I've been there so much recently, I was afraid they'd offer me a frequent shopper card. 😬 And no, alcohol was NOT a factor (this time).⛔ Brutal bruise by beetle, not booze. The swelling has gone down a little and the bruise is beginning to fade but I'm still walking pretty gingerly because it still hurts quite a bit, especially since I have 3 big dogs that keep running into it. 😩

Hurt & handicapped, depressed & disheartened, I'm just kinda wading my way through life as slow as I can. 😒 It appears that the limits of my sloth know no bounds. I take great pride in my attire when I go out but when I'm at work, I just want to look neat and clean but "frumpy" is what I always end up with. Hey, I try....a little. ☺ For years, my work attire had never really been good or bad, just age appropriate. Not now though. I traded in my age-appropriate night-time fashionista card for the 85 year old daytime frumpy-fashioned card. All I care about is being comfortable. 😶 I work in a professional environment, so I can't exactly bust out the warm-ups but I did the next best thing. I asked my sister to find me pants 2 to 3 sizes too big for me, so I could sit at my desk all day without needing to adjust my clothes. The pants I wore to work today could be taken off and on without even unbuttoning them, which saves precious time during those rapid restroom breaks. 💦 I guess I'm so uncomfortable in other facets of my life, I figured I'm gonna make sure I'm comfortable when I'm at work, dammit! 😠 Perpetual sadness and uncertainty is driving me crazy! 😜 I gotta shake myself outta this, I just have to. 😟 It'd been so long since I've attempted to be cute, that it seemed like the holes in my ears were beginning to close. So when I got to work, I used my always handy 'purse earrings' to forcefully poke through my ear piercings. (BTW, purse earrings are a fashion must have. ✅) I used to have fun getting made up, putting on beautiful jewelry and wearing pretty fashionable clothes. Now, I just am...barely conscious...swimming in gigantic clothing. 💫 My new low point was this morning, when I decided to wear white panties. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with white undies, I just don't wear them...EVER...well, not since the 5th grade anyway. I always have a few on hand because they always throw a pair in that pack of 3, when you adore the other two pair. So after my shower, I go to my underwear drawer and grab a white pair I've never worn. My first reaction was to throw them back, then I thought; Oh, what tha hell. Nobody's gonna see them anyway and if I get into a bad car accident, the ER folks won't care. ⛑ Then I thought, Dang, I've been reduced to wearing white underwear knowing nobody will see them unless I get into a potentially fatal automobile accident? Sad. 😭

I often feel life-beaten, worn-out, underappreciated, overly analyzed and worst of all, uninspired.  And Lord knows, I can't do anything if I'm not inspired. Despite the mostly depressing content of this entry, this is not another pathetic tale of woe. This is about redemption and rebirth.  See, I found inspiration in the most unlikely of places.  On my still-dark, mad-dash morning drive to work, I usually drive at top speed.  Even at that fevered pace, the same really raggedy old truck always speeds past me, like I'm sitting still. His GMC truck is probably from the 80s or 90s but it looks like it's from the 16th Century. No matter, it definitely looks like it's seen better days but that thing is FAST! Whatever's under that hood, would put any of the characters from that movie The Fast and the Furious to shame. - Just about every morning we do our dance, crazily whipping in and out of traffic but I can never keep up with him. On this particular Speed Racer morning, we happen to stop together at the same stop light, just me and him, he in the left lane, me in the middle lane. As I got ready to pound my pedal at the exact moment that light turned green, another head-to-toe tatted up dude in an older, bad azz '57 Chevy truck drove up in the right lane next to me. I'm sandwiched between two testosterone-driven dudes ready for a real road war. They revved their engines, never directly looking at each other (but they kinda were). You could tell, I was no longer considered a participant in this driving battle. Even so, I giggled in anticipation as I turned my head from side-to-side as I continuously looked at each of them, wondering what was gonna to happen when that light changed. Then, the light turns green and the really raggedy, old jalopy on my left, sped off into oblivion but I wasn't far behind.  The old '57 Chevy wasn't too far behind me but then again, he couldn't match my driving skills (or jalopy driver's). Then I think; Damn! My turn is coming up. Oh well, that was fun while it lasted. As I slow down to make my turn, I see the '57 Chevy blow past me, desperately trying to catch up with the weather-beaten, old jalopy but he was no match...frankly, neither was I. (Ouch.) Then I thought to myself, Oh NOW I get it. You may look or feel weather-beaten, rusty and worn out on the outside but that doesn’t mean you're not a bad azz on the inside. And better still, when you realize you got that kind of mo-jo on the inside, it starts to shine through and make its way to the outside. Even though that '57 Chevy truck looked like a beautiful, moving work of art to me, after seeing that jalopy perform, I'd take it, over art any day of the week. Yes, you got it right, I just knowingly compared myself to an ugly old truck but that's how I feel sometimes. Freely admitting it is the first step. "Hi, my name is ChaunyBaby. I'm a hobbling, speeding, white panty-wearing bad azz jalopy and I wouldn't want it any other way."

Author's Note: If I get into a horrible automobile accident in which I hurt or kill someone, I'm deleting this entry. I'd rather NOT aid in my own prosecution.

ANOTHER Black Beauty

http://chaunybaby.wordpress.com/2012/06/08/beetles-booze-bad-azzes/