The ChaunyBaby Blog: Sep 3, 2016

Saturday, September 3, 2016

Negative Nancy's Wordy Weirdness

The following is result of Operation Blog Recovery (Of what I could retrieve): The following content is collected from a platform that is no longer operational. Gaps and spaces in the formatted text could be the result of broken and/or expired emoticons, links or web-hosted pictures. You can be assured that the opinions and thoughts expressed are from the original writing. Hell, I’m not even going to correct spelling or grammar. Enjoy! Or not.

Originally posted on Nov 11, 2010

Current mood:weird

Negative Nancy's Wordy Weirdness

I haven't written lately because I've been in another one of my funks, the extended edition. I don't know about you but one of my biggest pet peeves are people who constantly complain. Nonstop negativity makes my nut-sack hurt...that is, if I had one. Everyone knows someone like that (or that someone is you). Whenever I hear (or read) a constant barrage of bitchin', my first thought is to look for escape routes. You see their dreaded e-mail address in the new, unread messages and you avoid opening it for as long as humanly possible or "accidentally" hit delete. Oops. (A claim you'll make when you're confronted by the constant complainer later.) You see their user name show active on your favorite social networking site, so you suddenly go stealth, invisible or just log out altogether. You see their incoming call on your phone and rejoice that some clever person invented Caller ID. Let's not even get into the game of one-person hide-and-seek you play when you see them out somewhere and are lucky enough to see them before they see you. You're not trying to be mean, it's just that sometimes you have to avoid (constant complaining) contact for the sake of your own sanity. Well, I've been a nightmarish Negative Nancy lately but I thought to myself; blog-reading is optional, an elective exercise, right? I'm not forcibly shoving my negativity down anyone's throat am I? Hell, someone somewhere may even get something out of this pointless entry, though I can't imagine who or what. (The negativity continues)

Last week I struggled with feeling a combined sense of illness, insecurity and invincibility. See, though I have my moments of inconsolable despair, I also consider myself to be just as strong as I present myself to the world, generally speaking. Clearly, I'm referring to the majority of my personal life experiences, not all of them. Nobody's strong ALL the time, no one, not anywhere, not on any planet...with the exception of [planet] Krypton of course. To me, true strength starts with understanding, which is a paradoxical pickle for me because I'm not always understood. My eccentricities set me apart but they also tend to alienate me. Weirdness can be a virtue but not always. You don't think I'm that strange? Oh sister, you don't know the half of it. I must confess that I'm not nearly as open in regular life as I am here, in my sacred blog. Even so, I occasionally hold back here if I think my eccentric nature could be taken the wrong way. The problem with being a bit outside the box is the possibility of being misinterpreted, misquoted and misunderstood. I really, really hate that too. It makes me sad. (Oh, boo-fuckin-hoo.)

Aside from my occasional bouts of uncontrollable crying and advanced-level pouting, my insecurity sometime manifests itself in unorthodox ways, like paranoia. Case in point, I'd been feeling really under-the-weather for the last few days, so I thought it would be prudent to go ahead and get my flu shot. I wasn't feeling great before I took it but brother, afterwards? I was a stone-cold stuttering mess. I never really get sick or have serious adverse reactions to flu shots but this year, the flu/H1N1 combo vaccine released The Kraken on my azz. I got teeth-chattering chills, prolonged numbness in my fingertips and achy muscles, especially the ones holding my eyeballs in their sockets. I was convinced that the nurse hadn't given me "the good stuff" and most likely injected me with an experimental substance that a top secret government program was testing in secret. I'm not joking. If the government had been using me for their top level alien intelligence experiment since birth, that would satisfactorily explain to me the strange way I see, feel & express myself. Right? Just hours after my experimental secret government injection I had another spontaneous bout of paranoia. Because of my prolonged flu-like illness, I thought I should drink hot tea to hydrate and super-dose myself with the healthy properties of green tea. On about my 5th cup the other day, I pulled out one of my unopened, convenience-stored swiped Splenda™ packets to find that there was already white powder pouring out through a poorly sealed seam. Do you think I logically concluded that the irregular packet was a simple coincidental design flaw in that one packet compared to millions of perfectly sealed packets? Noooooo. My first thought was that somebody laced it with Anthrax and had been following me for months waiting for the moment I'd use that one tainted packet. I mean how'd I get the "coincidental" design flawed packet in a sea of perfectly sealed ones anyway? Maybe it was alien-enhanced Anthrax designed to make me appear more mortal & weak, like Kryptonite does to Superman. If they were watching as closely as I thought they were, they'd know their moment to strike would come soon since they'd already been digging through my trash to see what medicines I've been taking. Well, the trash thing and that FBI file they'd been tracking and recording my every daily move in.

While the previous examples have never actually been disproven, the paranoia has since subsided, somewhat. However, my lingering illness, insecurity and invincibility has been challenging in other ways too. I NEVER (usually) whine about being sick...I just take it like a lady. Unfortunately however, all the coughing I'd been doing had apparently made me light-headed and as a result, I periodically took leave of my senses. The other day I stupidly tried to stop a falling wooden desktop with my leg and thought I broke my ankle after the mishap. I winced, bit my fist, hobbled into my room and collapsed on my bed until the urge to scream, then cry, passed. I laid there, still as a corpse, until I was able to complete a sentence without sounding like some Medieval torturer was slowly chiseling a metal skewer into my ankle. I laid there quietly for about 15 minutes and ultimately lived out the rest of my week with a knot on my ankle that looked like it was sprouting another foot. Sick, gimpy, government-tested, the last several days have been rough but I got through them. In essence, I try to handle business even if I have to do it slumped over in the corner drooling like a lobotomized mental patient in the backroom of a secret government testing facility. I hate being a broken bird, it's just so fuckin' lame!

Today, it isn't my illness, insecurity or invincibility giving me problems, it's my sappy sentimentality. I'm not sure I can accurately describe what I'm feeling right now but I'll try. I guess I'm having one of those unproductive day-dreamy days when I think about what could've been if I'd just...(insert action here). "Damn, if I just would've..." Woulda, coulda, shoulda, three of English language's most useless words (from The Most Commonly Made-Up Words Edition). Learning from the past is great but getting caught up in it can get you into real trouble. I'm slowing snapping out of it. As a whole, I've had far more GREAT times than bad but there are times when I approach the past with a certain sense of self-imposed ignorance. I sometimes fantasize, romanticize and glamorize the past when I should just ground myself with the harsh realities of the here-and-now. How can I effect positive change if I don't? There is no greater gift than the present 💝 and no better time to spend planning the future. Did I just type that? Hot damn I'm good! There seem to be some clear intellectual advantages to being a government experiment.

The moral is: Always look on the bright side, even if you turn green, sprout a tail and start using a loud, screechy language that breaks windows.

"That One"

There will be no literarily witty repartee' for this entry. The time has come for another round of tackling, no, MANAGING my messy emotions. A lot of things have happened since I last wrote; good, bad, exciting and disastrous. In recent years, I've wholeheartedly recommitted myself to handling my own inner turmoil without exacerbating the empathetic ear of my family and friends. Yes, if I need them, they're there for me as I am for them but getting myself through my own issues makes me feel stronger and better about myself, especially when I succeed. With the mixed bag of things going on in my life right now, I'd have to say my affective life has been the most challenging. At the risk of losing some cool points, assuming I even had any, I'm gonna admit that I'm a little lovesick right now. Not that I haven't dipped my toe in the relationship waters here & there recently but at the moment, there is one particular person I'd probably throw everyone else over for, of whom I lovingly refer to as "that one". (Isn't that a sweet nickname? ) My logical side tells me that feeling that way isn't a good place to be emotionally, not for me or my potential beloved. It's like going to Vegas and putting up the deed to your home on a sucker's bet when you know you only brought Monopoly money. Life has its share of comedic ironies doesn't it? You're 'happily' bobbing along by yourself or with a beau/beauette. Then out of the blue, that long lost love makes an unannounced visit that completely disrupts the relationship roll you were on with someone or the glorious feeling of being ecstatically single. It doesn't seem wise to abandon a potential romance or blissful bachelorettedom for a relationship that had already failed miserably. Still, that inexplicably passionate pull toward "that one" is almost too powerful for me to ignore at times. Does that make me a sissified sucker? Man, I sure hope not. Like Ford trucks, I fancy myself too Texas Tough for that. My ample build even bears a striking resemblance to a Ford F150 King Cab, maybe even a bus...the short one of course.

♥

I think the only thing that's saved me from making a complete fool of myself over "that one", is the fact that I haven't acted on these underlying impulses. I keep telling myself to ignore what I know isn't good for me and be positive about the good things still to come. Actually, I'd been chugging along pretty good until I ran across "that one" again in a most surprising and unexpected way. (My lips are sealed on how or where. ) When it happened, not very long ago at all, I went through that day and the next few weeks in a dizzying fog that sometimes had me forget simple things like my Facebook password. And let's face it, life shuts down for me without Facebook. (MySpace, you'll always be my first, true social networking love. Remember that. ) My brain just suddenly deactivated itself from reality. Not good dude, not good at all. It was a real shame too because I'd been doing so good. And to think, "that one" was almost completely removed from my romantic recollection. Daaaang. Why couldn't they just have stayed away until their ~~seemingly~~ ever-present passionate presence within me faded? Is that too much to ask? More importantly, why did I let their sudden resurgence effect me so significantly? I can't even explain why my attachment to "that one" is so strong. On paper, "that one" isn't "all that". I have no idea why I'm so enamored and you know I'd certainly spill the beans here if I knew. The wonders of the heart never cease to amaze, especially mine. So I guess my choices are simple; ¹ Stay locked in a fog like a lovesick teenager on acid or ² I convince myself of the truth, which is we always unrealistically idealize the "mysterious" ones. ♥ Spending an extended amount of quality time with "that one", whoever they happen to be, would most certainly lead to profound disappointment. I think that might be true in my case anyway. Frankly, I'm not usually so taken aback by someone, not for more than 2 weeks and rarely in a continuous block exceeding 48 hours. Even so, "that one" kept popping in and out of my brain since the day we met. And stranger still, I don't even feel that "that one" is "THE one" but I still can't help myself sometimes. Does that even make sense? Yeah I know, it doesn't to me either. Oh well, it's my puzzle to solve, no one else's.

♥

Ya know what else? I think I should've written this a long time ago because the more I write, the less I long for "that one". Though I doubt anybody I've ever dated even reads this, I'd still been so afraid of embarrassing myself, that I kept suppressing powerful emotions that really needed expressing. Paragraph 3, and I already feel different. Imagine that, a few short keystrokes later and the fantasy lover of my dreams looks more like that pesky whitehead bump that keeps popping up in the same spot. You can cover it up with glitter but it's still just a shiny pimple. Say what you want about my flip-flopping but my famed fickleness has saved me from making yet another lopsided "love" decision. I know, I'm always all over the place. I'm gonna nickname myself Chunky Chick's Wild Ride and Roadside Freak Show. If I market myself just right, I could be a bigger attraction than Cirque du Soleil, without the cool costumes, mesmerizing acrobatics or talent. My draw would be the random thoughts and emotions expressed by the 21st Century female nut job. I'd even throw in some quirky-colored cotton candy and a couple of corny rides too. If you could see inside my head, you'd be truly amazed...or thoroughly frightened. Either way, it won't be a boring journey. I'm a mystery to no one more than I am to myself. Someday the world may find me as fascinating as I find myself and I sure hope they're willing to pay too. I've already got a plot of land picked out for Chunky Chick's Wild Ride and Roadside Freak Show and it ain't cheap. Don't worry though, the parking will be free.

$♥

°Okay, I'm still a Cirque du Soleil Junkie:

Bipolar Butt...I mean, Blog Therapy

I hate days like these. I hate those uber oversensitive days when I feel like the scared little wimpy kid that'll ball uncontrollably when someone says "Boo". I hate it when I get all "tender" at the smallest of unintended (self-perceived) slights. It's no secret to anyone who knows me (well), that I have zero tolerance and even less sympathy, for the chronically hypersensitive. My remedy for the ridiculously auto-offended is "Toughen up, dammit!" Who wants to constantly walk on eggshells when dealing with someone? Why should simply getting along with someone require so much work? How can one's need to always exert their own tender feelings outweigh someone else's tendency to simply 'not sweat the small stuff'? Personally speaking (for the flip side), I'm way too emotionally lazy to have to be on my Ps & Qs when discussing something as simple as the weather. I consider myself pretty self-aware, so I wouldn't say I'm completely devoid of a brain-to-mouth filter but I certainly have my moments. So if I know all that, why am I taking offense with any and all things I've encountered recently? I see hidden agendas in the newscaster's report on tropical storms. I hear whispered insults about me in all casual conversations in which I'm not personally involved. ... I sense sexist undertones in the way men say "Hello" to me. ... I see conspiracies when I get a reply text in 7 minutes instead of 5. ... Everyone is out to get me. Every messed up situation I encounter is another testament to just how little I 'measure up'. I'm a pathetic loser that everyone hates. I'm Booger Boy, the geeky school kid that no one talks to but everyone laughs at. I'm B.O. Betty, the stinky co-worker that everyone avoids because of a stench so repulsive, it singes eyebrows and nose hairs. I'm too chubby. I'm too nerdy. I'm too weird. WTF? That's the biggest crock of green leprechaun shit I've never actually seen, but can imagine in great detail. I'm not ashamed to announce my asinine emotional state to the world because I know it's so insanely out of character for me, I can only logically conclude that it will pass like any harmless 24 Hour Bug. / Frankly, I'm committed to putting ALL my business in the street if it results in me feeling better. Hell, just by writing up to this very point, I already feel like kicking my own azz for being such a big, blubbering baby. Okay granted, I know I might seem a bit bipolar to the general population. However, I also know I feel my much-needed internal drill sergeant coming back to reclaim residency just by virtue of accepting how ridiculous I'm being right now. - Hey, I'm not claiming my condition doesn't warrant strong medication but until I'm properly diagnosed by a °board certified medical professional, my Bipolar Blog Therapy will just have to suffice. Besides, I just caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror (walking away) and my butt looks kinda good in these pants I'm wearing now. ~And NO I'm not joking.~ I actually walked back to the mirror a few times to make sure my eyes didn't deceive me. To my posterior pleasure, it was round, brown bulbous beauty♥ staring right back at me. No matter what the medical professionals say, Bipolar Blog Therapy is good but Bipolar Booty Therapy is bigger and better.

°Not certified by the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology. Proudly certified by the African American Board of Bulbous Bootology.

Batty Daddy‏

Almost out of the blue, our precious baby girl Jordan, is now a first-time mommy. The recent change in her appearance and behavior suggested she was knocked up but because Jordan is confined to her spacious backyard, we couldn't figure out how it happened. She went to the vet this past Thursday, had a $180 ultrasound done that confirmed her pregnancy and 2 heartbeats. She had her puppies the *very next day* after the vet visit. We could have saved ourselves 200 buck$ if we'd just waited 24 lousy hours. But it was good to hear that she's in EXCELLENT health, she damn well better be, we've probably spent thousand$ over the years keeping her that way. She was acting weirder than usual early Friday morning before we went to work, so I kinda figured she'd have them while we were at work, and she did, sort of. Sis was in the other truck and I rushed home to see how she was doing after work. Sure enough, she greets me at the front door like usual and as I scratch her big adorable head, I hear meek little cries from our beautiful vintage couch. She then rushes over to the whining pup, jumped back on the "no dogs allowed" VINTAGE couch and proceeded to nurse. I only saw one but I could tell by the white spot on the top of its head, that the ugly, genius, hilariously sly dog from across the street was the Doggie Baby Daddy. Apparently, he'd somehow made his way into our fenced-in backyard, knocked up our doggie and got back out of our yard under the cover of darkness like a thief in the night. Seriously, if you'd seen some of the things I've seen this dog do, you'd know he is capable of doing some amazing things. I tell people fascinatingly true stories about him but I don't think I'm believed most of the time. Honestly, after figuring out it was him, my first thought was to stomp across the street, gut-check and then do a running Hulk Hogan style clothes-line to the couple that lived there. They're dumber than a box of puppy treats and as an ironic twist of fate would have it, they also happen to own probably one of the smartest dogs I've ever seen. Can we sue them for puppy support? Oh well, what's done is done. Anyhow, I ran to call Sis to come home quickly by unintelligibly screaming "They're here! They're here!" into the phone, even though I'd only really seen one. I knew there'd be another one soon since the doctor saw two heartbeats. I looked a little closer and I thought I saw two the next time but I wasn't certain. Instead of adorable, mostly black puppies, I began to see balls of money being squeezed out of her already overworked vagina. $$ I went to look for the camera and by the time I got back, there was a whitish mucus blob on my "no dogs allowed" VINTAGE couch. Another one? Okay, now's there's DEFINITELY two. [Cash register sounds going off in my head ]. Sis made it home in about 5 minutes flat. We watched Jordan nurse, tend to her pups and bleed all over our "no dogs allowed" VINTAGE couch. Then, as we marveled at how naturally she went into Super Mommy mode, another huge, white mucus blob starts working its way out of her, right on our "no dogs allowed" VINTAGE couch. Daaaaaaamn. I've never seen anything like that IN PERSON before, especially not on my "no dogs allowed" VINTAGE couch. Sis and I look at each other, stunned, and say a collective "Wow" in perfect unison. The "beauty of birth" is a little hard to see, but I get it. New life is beautiful in its own way. Amazingly, after all the gore of puppy birth on our "no dogs allowed" VINTAGE couch, Jordan kept everything as clean as possible, we didn't have much clean-up, just a couple of umbilical cord pieces here and there. Sis did a quick couch-check, to see if we had any other biological material to dispose of or attend to. As Sis searches, she hears more tiny whines and discovers the biggest one of the litter, under the couch. This was a really BIG boy too, most likely the first one born. Oh shit, another one? That makes four. [MORE cash register sounds going off in my head ]. We now have two girls and two boys. A boy & girl all black like Jordan. And a boy & girl mostly black, with a white patch on top of their heads and white "socks". Their names are Big John (BJ), Jasmine, Juno & Jo-Jo. They're majorly rambunctious and as cute as buttons and best of all, Jordan is the greatest doggy mommy on the planet. We're super duper proud of her. Awwwww! (How "vomitously" sugary sweet is that? )

Okay, I can appreciate that you might not be a pet person, so this entry might not resonate with you like some of the other ones but this isn't really about dogs or puppies or overworked vaginas. It's kinda about motherhood and where I fit into it all. (This is still MY blog after all. ) As you know, I have this internal tug-of-war about children. I want them but I'm scared to commit to all that parenthood entails. I know I'm no Spring Chicken when considering whether my body is "Biologically Baby-Ready". Thankfully, my doctor assures me that I'm as healthy as a horse. (Excuse the dumb zoological references). What you may not know, is an ex and I have discussed co-parenting our own little bundle of joy. ♥ I mentioned it to him once as a joke, because we don't get along AT ALL. He didn't take it as a joke AT ALL. He was gung-ho and excited about the prospect. He's only a few years younger than me and he doesn’t have children either. I know he wants kids but I also know he wants us to get back together and that AIN'T happening. He knows I'm a free spirit and would never want to hand over any measure of control (over me) to someone else. Sad thing is, no matter who I ultimately choose to go there with, he'll automatically get some measure of control over me, unless I opt for the clinical choice of an anonymous donor. (Gross) I know I shouldn't look at it that way but that's the way it is. On paper, the ex is perfect; great age, no kids, good job, ready, willing and able. In real life, he's controlling, jealous, argumentative, antagonistic and possessive. Aside from all that, the idea of doing the deed with him again isn't exactly a pleasing thought to me either. - In fairness to him though, he always apologizes afterwards, not after doing the deed, after being an azzhole. He just doesn't do anything to improve himself so that it won't happen again. So the horrible cycle repeats itself...over and over and over. More bad behavior, more apologies, no resolutions. As you can imagine, we used to butt heads constantly. I'm thinking that dumping "co-parenting" into the mix, is surefire recipe for explosive disaster, given what I already know about him. On the flip side, I also wonder if maybe fatherhood would change him for the better. Maybe being a dad would make him calmer and more mature. As soon as I start thinking like that, my gut tells me that going there with him wouldn't serve the greater good for me, the kid or him....well maybe him. When I see him out now, I don't even acknowledge him. I'd seen him just recently at a friend's birthday party and except for a few inconspicuous glances his way, I never made eye contact with him. I could tell he was trying to get a reaction from me by all the female attention he was giving out, which is another reason NOT to let him father our kid because it shows how little he really knows me. Frankly, he could get butt booty naked in the middle of the dance floor and go to town on a chick and I couldn't care less, unless I'm not allowed to take pictures. 📸 He should know me well enough to know that trying to make me jealous will have exactly the OPPOSITE effect on me. And not just with him, with anybody, even somebody I'm initially attracted to. I can't help it, I just spontaneously become *less* attracted, not *more*. When folks do petty stuff like that, I automatically think to myself, 'What a bitch move. Weak and sad.' I deplore weakness in any form. I work to support myself and my family, not for the attention of a weak, short-sighted, sad person not worthy of my time or attention. Next! See how that works? I think I just wrote myself out of a baby with him, a future restraining order against him and bloody brains expelled via baseball bat...mine or his (bat or brains). Blog wisdom is so powerful , and so is a swing harder than Babe Ruth's (mine, not his.)

Rehabilitory Reclusion‏

I had both the misfortune and good fortune of being by myself for most of the workday yesterday. Some people can only enjoy things if someone else joins them (in some capacity) but I'm not really like that. The fascinatingly random thought process that has plagued me since childhood, has also almost guaranteed that I'll never be truly 'bored' with or by myself. It's true that I need constant, or at least regular, mental & creative stimulation to stay engaged but I'm more than capable of providing that for myself. I'm a pretty self-contained chick, in fact, I ADORE my own company......most times. I'd say I'm a strange combination of "people person" and "rehabilitory recluse". (I know that’s not a "real" word by the way) Socially (most times), I like being a part of a small group of trusted associates but that's definitely NOT a constant state of being for me. To remain (seemingly) sane and normal to the naked eye, I have to have periodic spells of total seclusion. I have to be alone with my thoughts in order to recharge and center myself every now and then. I guess that would qualify me as being a TRUE Social Butterfly since I need to cocoon myself with solitary protection in order to come out afterwards, and beautify the world in my own creative way. However, there are times that being alone with my thoughts have an unhealthy effect because they sometimes turn dark and run amuck. When that happens, I do my best to pull myself out of my self-created doldrums. I sometimes joke with folks by calling myself a "super hero" but in my mind, I kinda am. What I mean is, sometimes when illogical internal fear starts to take hold of me, I believe I can get through it by mere mental determination and NOTHING else. Achieving success or conquering fear by sheer mental determination alone, is a superpower of sorts. It's not that I'm not scared of things, I'm scared of quite a few things but I try to let those things ~motivate~ me to go forth and conquer. For example, I don't particuliarly like being in front of crowds but I karaoke and volunteer to speak to groups when I start feeling unreasonably insecure about myself. Frankly, it doesn't always work but thankfully, a lot of times it does. Well, the success rate is about 50/50 since I'm a descent speaker but a lousy singer. I think my problem now is that I have so many open-ended/unresolved situations up in the air, it's hard for me to focus on the things I can truly improve upon, in essence, those things within my personal power. ♥♥ I want a good life, filled with happiness. I'm not always going to be able to make that happen, no matter how much I claim "super hero" status. - Despite how my superior, immortal mental mirage of myself sounds, its less of a psychotic break from reality and more of a psychological coping mechanism to deal with reality. Perhaps my issue isn't psychological at all but hormonal. Between the females at home and the females at work, my body seems to contend mercilessly with a never-ending game of Period ° Ping ° Pong. As you know, The Menstrual Monsters amplify negativity tenfold (and I'm low-balling here). I don't know, I guess I'm doing the best I can given the circumstances, which is better than a lot of folks. I know I've got cracks like everyone else. I know I need to pray more and react less. I know I've a whole heap of work to do on myself and most of all, I know I'm working on it; little by little, step by step. All in all, today is a good day because I know that my unforgiving dark thoughts can't quell my quirky quest for contentment. ♥ Wherever my journey leads me, even through the prickly path of confusion and the unapologetic thorns of ambiguity, I know I'll retire to a life filled with joyful satisfaction. I truly believe that. I don't have all the answers and it's doubtful I ever will. You know, there's a strange comfort in admitting that. To me, it means my confusion and uncertainty are valid emotions. Basically, I'm justifiably effed-up and nothing soothes sorted emotions more than knowing you're okay, when you're not "okay". I just need to go through it, no matter what "it" is. Listen (or read), I hate posting entries with no concrete resolutions more than you hate reading them. As with most things in life, "the answers" aren't always as easy to find as the questions. A journey, a path plagued with questions. There's almost always a journey, right? Unless I miss my guess, the true answers can't be found without the journey anyway. ♥♥♥ Man, I sure hope my path is paved with deliciously sweet carb-free doughnuts. Ice cold lactose-free milk would be nice too. As you can see, I'm extraordinarily easy to please. How many of the superheroes you know (personally) can say that? Oh yeah, I forgot, I'm the only one you know.

Control Test

This won't be a sugary sweet inspirational entry I'm afraid. I'm just gonna be raw and real and tell you I have some next level shit going on in my personal life right now, that I can't/won't be specific about. Let's just say it was the aftermath of The Perfect Storm that had probably been brewing, in one way or another, for several years now. Last night, everything bubbled over and as a result, things crossed over into some pretty scary territory. As horrible as it was/is, there are folks out there that have it much worse than me, so I'll try not to act like some whiney bitch that doesn’t have a clue. I'll just write and release okay? /

A few of days ago, Sis & I had a nice visit with a lovely older couple in our neighborhood with whom we had a series of conversations regarding some quality of life improvements Sis & I are planning to make. The advice-littered conversations ranged from tangible to intangible topics like lumber, air conditioners, EPA regulations, love, faith and spirituality...just to name a few. (Yes, THAT broad.) For me personally, unsolicited advice usually produces an automatic gut-reaction in which I dismissively think to myself, Yeah okay. Right. Whatever. Though some of their advice was in relation to some personal issues they didn't have complete knowledge of, the depth of their sincerity was without question. The more I listened to them, the more I began to see how some of what they were saying would definitely apply to some other mildly disappointing areas of my life. They talked about humbling yourself before you can ascend to the next level of enlightenment (my words, their meaning). Truthfully, I feel like I'm already one of the humblest folks around. Not only that, I gorge myself on a daily diet of humble pie which makes for a very tight fit in my Humble© brand underwear. However, I suppose there's always room for improvement, just not in my underwear.
The more they talked, the more I started seeing little areas of my life that needed improvement. I even knew where I needed to start. My most disappointing area of concentration right now seems to remain that old, recurring, painful emotional blister. [Drum roll please.] Yep, you guessed it; Relationships. Whether it was your fault or the other person's, there's nothing more humbling than a relationship you trusted in, that just didn't work out. Whether romantic, familial or platonic, a relationship failure is a sobering experience. To be frank, I've been struggling with some painful realizations in more than one category of relationship recently. The more I listened to the lovely older couple, the more I could see little things I could do to get myself back on the track to relationship bliss. And understand, my idea of "relationship bliss" has nothing to do with simply reconciling relationships, it has to do with reconciling your own feelings so you're open to the good things you don't see coming. Reconciling useless relationships is as beneficial as putting a Band-Aid© on a brain tumor. Some relationships, even historically significant ones, sometime require complete and utter abandonment in order for you to heal yourself completely. Note to self: I can't control anyone other than myself but I won't allow others' negativity to control and color how I conduct my life. So there.

Though some seem unconvinced, I'm a very loving person that tries to conduct myself in a positive/respectful way, sometimes with abysmal success...but I try. The harder I examined my own feelings and what they were ominously developing into, I could see I was harboring a tremendous amount of hate. I've always gotten a bad rap but I'm not at all a hateful person. I'd just allowed myself to be controlled by people that cared for themselves first and foremost, to the absolute detriment of everyone else around them. When you get that enough, you start feeling and acting a little resentful. I started to see that I'd let myself become a bit jaded and critically cynical of the human condition. Harboring hate, becoming jaded and being critically cynical of the human condition are all negatives in my book and those things are not at all in my true nature. I'm sure my (some times) intense personality, my (most times) razor-sharp tongue and my (rarely ever) seemingly unconcerned manner can come off as "hard" and "flighty" to people that don't know me well. Actually, I could probably work harder at improving on my delivery sometimes. Thankfully, improving on my delivery is squarely within my control but I'm sailing off subject a bit now. Delivery aside, I know I have to let this hate go because my heart♥ isn't built for holding it. Besides, if I let my heart stay filled to capacity with hate, how is happiness ever going to be able to take up residency there? Exactly. See how smart you are?

It also occurred to me how much we let others control us; From the deeply disappointing hurt we feel from the broken heart handed to us by that self-centered butt-hair we allowed to put us through tumultuous changes , all the way through to the anger we feel from road rage-worthy azzhole that refuses to move over to either of the *two* empty lanes next him when he knows we have only *one* measly lane to enter the highway on. We let so many people control us and we don't even realize it. Everywhere I look, someone somewhere is pulling my marionette strings and I just weakly surrender all control to them. Sometimes I feel sorely manipulated, taken for granted, dismissed, angered and hurt but that's not the end of this story. Message is; All of this, this life, these experiences, these feelings, whether good or bad, are a series of exams designed to "test" our resolve. Some people are just never gonna get it, no matter how hard you try to reason with them. Dealing with those types yields two paths; ¹You can either deal with all their absurd bullshit OR ²you can take them with a grain of salt, pray that sanity & serenity releases them from their ridiculous ways and move yourself on to better things. Yeah, I like that second one better too.

Go ahead, kick me, punch me, pull my hair and see me come out on the other side looking gorgeous and completely unfettered. Rage and resentment promote premature aging and I plan on being a stone cold fox until I'm buried in a box. Seriously folks, life only truly progresses when we accept the things we can't control and stop being mad about it. Be controlled or control yourself, the never-ending Life Exam with tons of open-ended answers so plentiful, you can't even write them in the palm of your hand for a little 'extra help'. Oh well. I'm just gonna try to regain/retain calm control over myself and ace all of my Life Exams in hopes of getting some of that nifty extra credit aptly named "happiness". I sure hope I'm a better test-taker now than I was when I was in school. If I'm not, I may seal my fate as the bitter, old, crazy cat lady living in the creepy house at the end of the block with the yard too scary for kids to retrieve their balls from. Though I love the idea of having LOTS of balls, I ain't going out like that! Oh hell naw! I'm way too cool to allow myself to be bitter, creepy, crazy or controlled......well, not "controlled" anyway.

*Ironic After-Blog Update*
(My horoscope for today. I JUST read this after posting this entry.)

There's conflict coming up for you, so be more careful in your interactions with people old or new or somewhere in between. Seen from the right perspective, disagreements can be educational.

Damn, even the stars agree with me!

Sweet Auntie Bounce-Back

Negativity is one of humankind's worst creations. My sincere drive to stay on the positive side of things, is one of the character traits I'm most proud of. I'm not exactly the consummate beacon of positivity all the time but my devotion to getting there ASAP is unwavering. Just like everyone else, I fall victim to sadness, hopelessness, fear and insecurities but I try not to let those poisoned emotions rule or ruin me. Still, there are times when the poisonous presences in my life are just too prominent and long-lasting to ignore. And in that vein, I have to keep reminding myself that those negative emotions can really blind you to the wonderful things you already have and unknowingly, but routinely, take for granted. I had one those beautiful epiphanies this past weekend...actually, I had two. I got to spend some quality time with my handsome older brother, adorable young nephew and my two wonderful nieces (ages 18 & 20). My brother let Sis & I take the girls for an "All Girls Weekend". Sis got us a quaint and stylish hotel on the outskirts of town where we chilled hard. We laughed so hard I had several attacks of laughter-driven stomach cramps that made me seriously contemplate medical treatment, that is, if it didn't take me away from my three favorite girls in the world. ♥♥(Sis)♥

Honestly, before these two came along, I never wanted girls. I'm not remotely overdramatizing when I tell you that the thought of having girls literally made me sick to my stomach. Not that there's anything wrong with girls (obviously), it's just that I thought they'd require more patience than I thought I had, and that'd almost guarantee me an instant parental "FAIL". The thought of being a parental failure terrified me. However, after spending time with them very early on, that fear was quickly and completely obliterated. After having the pleasure of knowing how intelligent, hilarious and drop-dead gorgeous these young ladies have become, I would've been happy to have had 5 girls if they were anything like these two, plus a little of Sis & I mixed in of course. This past weekend, they shared with us some of the sweetest moments I've ever had or ever will ever have. They told us things that made me proud of the woman I am and the mother I hope to be some day. They made me laugh so hard I almost ruined a perfectly good pair of panties.

I'm sure I'm failing miserably at resisting the urge to go on and on and embarrass my nieces beyond belief but I'm sure you get the idea. Truthfully, I could write pages and pages on how wonderful these two are. You might think I'm just an overly-proud auntie but if you knew them, or spent any amount of time with them, you'd know my over-the-top assessment of how superb they are is right on the money. Just trust me on that.

While this entry is dedicated to them, it's also about the power of inspiration timed at precisely the right moment. My recent life struggles had been dominated by deep disappointment and each day, I'd try to get passed it one small baby step at a time. I knew it would happen, I just didn't know when exactly. Spontaneously re-appreciating the blessings staring you right in the face , is a marvelous thing to behold. I'd been whining about my personal life not being where I want it to be and not knowing what to do about it, then suddenly, I see how wonderful it is without much intervention from me at all. That's a blessed message I want to always appreciate and remember, my hope is that everyone else would do that too.

Your inspiration might not be two wonderful nieces, it could be something else entirely. For you, maybe it's a friend or other family member that stood by you when you thought no one cared. Could be a song that echoes the exact feeling you're experiencing at that exact moment, so you know you're not alone in the world. Or maybe it's the appreciation of good health after a horrific health scare you got through (yours or someone else's). Perhaps it's as simple and justified as waking up everyday. Hell, your inspiration might even be a consistently superbly-written blog by some chick with really big gums. «-» Who knows?! Whatever it is, it can turn hopeless negativity into powerful positivity if you refocus and readjust a little. It doesn’t take much effort, just a slight shift in your mental direction. It's a lofty and worthy goal if you want or need to heal yourself in some small or significant way. I needed to heal myself badly and I will again, probably sooner than I care to think about but I'm fine right now and my sincere drive to stay on the positive side of things will get me here again. I always bounce back. Always. I'm just happy I have two beautiful bouncing "baby" girls that help remind me that a big bouncy booty is useful for more than just attracting a mate.