burning bridges: to make decisions that cannot be changed in the future; based on the military action of burning a bridge you have just crossed to prevent the enemy from crossing it after you
Remember how I was saying that I don't much believe in stupid idioms a couple posts ago? Remember that? Well, I've got a few more for you that I'm staring to warm up to, particularly, "burning bridges prevents you from going back to places you should have never been" and "it gets better with time."
So, some context. A couple of weird events have happened in the past couple of weeks regarding T (an ex-ish of mine). First, I had a dream, a premonition really, that he was getting married. Grant it, I had no way of knowing this at the time. I had not contacted him or anyone that knows him in over a year and a half. So, creeped out by it, I told the bf about the dream and he said it was likely true. So we snooped on Facebook (tisk tisk) and found out that he (T) is indeed getting married, and get this, it's to the freaking girl that I caught him in a lie about. Precious, just precious. But, you know what? Good on her, maybe she is the saving grace that he needs. Maybe I should send a wedding gift? Maybe I shouldn't?
Anyway, shortly after that discovery I get an email from him, a sort-of apology yet not apology email. He's done this in the past, and I've never really been able to accept the apologies for what they really are, because I was never really out of the fog that was that "relationship" (maybe time does heal). At first I was just baffled by this email, my normal reaction. But then I reread it, and there was a part of the email that pissed me off. In this part T told me that he didn't want me to think that our shity time together where ever my fault, implying that I blamed myself for his actions. Implying that I didn't have enough self confidence to not put up with his crap. Lol. Blame myself, oh-no honey, I am far too forlorn and masochistic to blame myself for other people's faults. I chose that glorious pain all by myself. Like a drug, I was drawn to it. But alas, time heals, the high of pain fades and you eventually realize how much more stable and healthy your life is without it.
Okay, maybe I read into it a little, but I'm pretty smart and can typically see through people's bullshit - one of the perks to growing up with a pathological lair and alcoholic father. With my new found clarity, I wanted to say fuck you in the nicest way possible. So, I drafted an email, wasn't going to send it, but then did. Facepalm. But you know why I sent it...I sent because of the idioms that I've never really believed in. I sent it because sometimes you have to burn bridges in order to not go back to places that you should have never been in the first place.
Oh, how it felt so good. What's the saying, "sweet revenge?"
That reminds me of a wonderful NY Times article about Why Revenge Tastes So Sweet. Read it. Read it now! Also, in light of this article and my current post, I just want to say that I've never claimed to be on any kind of morality road, and even if I were, I would never suggest that it's higher than yours. Just goes to show T never really knew me, and that I should have followed yet another idiom, never date a person who doesn't like to read :P
UPDATE! 8/2014 - I've been trying to clean up my karma a little lately, My Name is Earl style. So I broke down, tried to be the bigger soul and gave T what he needed. I recognize now that he sent that "apology" email for himself, it had nothing to do with me (I'm still not convinced that people can change, but that's a post for another day, btw). I wrote him back and said what he needed/wanted to hear. I'm over it, happy/healthy, please live your life. Please use these words to facilitate
your own path to happiness and health, but I am still not forgiving you, you can't take back shirty behavior, even if ignorant.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
2/26/14
2/15/14
serendipity
serendipity: the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way
There are a couple of idioms that I have always thought are bullshit, to be frank. But recently my frame of mind has shifted and I'm staring to believe that a few might hold some validity.
Take for instance, "all things happen for a reason." I'm still not 100% sold on this because, well, reasons-shmeasons. Everything in this life is random, but sometimes that randomness syncs up in a way that benefits you and your life experiences. I have learned that this is called "serendipity."
My life has been very serendipitous these past few years. Good comes of bad, events flow joyously, ying and yang, everything balances eventually. Loose a job, gain a better one. Burn a bridge, build a stronger one to somewhere where you should have been instead. End an unhealthy relationship, fall into the best one you've ever had. Break a bone, heal and become Iron Man. Okay, maybe not the last one, but you get the picture.
Anyway, I wrote a poem to commemorate the slow melting of my doubt.
serendipity
zippity do dah, zippity day
life works out in a serendipitous way
supercalifragilistic expialidocious
deal with it, you'll always be precocious
boom boom pow
try more to stay in the now
knock knock knock
there's no special key in life for secrets to unlock
There are a couple of idioms that I have always thought are bullshit, to be frank. But recently my frame of mind has shifted and I'm staring to believe that a few might hold some validity.
Take for instance, "all things happen for a reason." I'm still not 100% sold on this because, well, reasons-shmeasons. Everything in this life is random, but sometimes that randomness syncs up in a way that benefits you and your life experiences. I have learned that this is called "serendipity."
My life has been very serendipitous these past few years. Good comes of bad, events flow joyously, ying and yang, everything balances eventually. Loose a job, gain a better one. Burn a bridge, build a stronger one to somewhere where you should have been instead. End an unhealthy relationship, fall into the best one you've ever had. Break a bone, heal and become Iron Man. Okay, maybe not the last one, but you get the picture.
Anyway, I wrote a poem to commemorate the slow melting of my doubt.
serendipity
zippity do dah, zippity day
life works out in a serendipitous way
supercalifragilistic expialidocious
deal with it, you'll always be precocious
boom boom pow
try more to stay in the now
knock knock knock
there's no special key in life for secrets to unlock
12/31/13
resolution
resolution: in chemistry, the process of reducing or separating something into its components
It's New Year's Eve and I'm sitting here, staring at my laptop, having convinced myself that everyone already knows what the word "resolution" means, especially around this time of year. To most, resolution means expansive lists of vague goals to accomplish, stuff to obtain, ways to improve, things to do! But let's trash that. Let's throw that hum-drum definition in the filthy garbage.
I like the way the field of chemistry defines resolution instead. It's far better than, "a firm decision to do or not to do something." Oh no, chemists are not into firm decisions, oh no no they are not. Chemists are all about the process. Chemists take an item, a composite, a mixture of something they already know and have, and they reduce it, separate it down into it's most basic components. Now this sounds like a much more fitting definition, a much more evolved way to approach resolutions in the coming year.
I like it! I'm going with it!! Mainly because over the last few years, I have been struggling to achieve, achieve, achieve lofty and unattainable goals. And instead of achieving I've spun my wheels, ending up with half-baked resolutions, plans, things, stuff, what have you. Muddling along, I have come to know intimately what the end products, mixtures and composites are, primarily because I often live preoccupied with the future and forget to relish the most basic components of the present. So, this year, I would like to resolve all that I have been working towards and instead know every small piece and part that makes up my end products just as intimately as I know the products themselves.
To chemistry!
It's New Year's Eve and I'm sitting here, staring at my laptop, having convinced myself that everyone already knows what the word "resolution" means, especially around this time of year. To most, resolution means expansive lists of vague goals to accomplish, stuff to obtain, ways to improve, things to do! But let's trash that. Let's throw that hum-drum definition in the filthy garbage.
I like the way the field of chemistry defines resolution instead. It's far better than, "a firm decision to do or not to do something." Oh no, chemists are not into firm decisions, oh no no they are not. Chemists are all about the process. Chemists take an item, a composite, a mixture of something they already know and have, and they reduce it, separate it down into it's most basic components. Now this sounds like a much more fitting definition, a much more evolved way to approach resolutions in the coming year.
I like it! I'm going with it!! Mainly because over the last few years, I have been struggling to achieve, achieve, achieve lofty and unattainable goals. And instead of achieving I've spun my wheels, ending up with half-baked resolutions, plans, things, stuff, what have you. Muddling along, I have come to know intimately what the end products, mixtures and composites are, primarily because I often live preoccupied with the future and forget to relish the most basic components of the present. So, this year, I would like to resolve all that I have been working towards and instead know every small piece and part that makes up my end products just as intimately as I know the products themselves.
To chemistry!
2/22/13
body mod
body mod: is the deliberate altering of the human body for non-medical reasons
I want to declare...
Just because I have tattoos does not make me an less credible than someone without tattoos.
Just because someone has gauges does not make them less intelligent than someone without gauges.
Just because someone has piercings does not mean that they are less considerate than someone without.
And this doesn't just apply to body modification, if someone wears a dastar (or turban) it doesn't mean they're a terrorist, it just means they are Sheik, likely.
Just because a woman wears a short skirt, doesn't mean she's a slut, "welcoming it," or unprofessional, just means that she lives in the 21st century.
It's not what's on the outside, but what's on the inside that matters.
It's amazing to me how outdated and bigoted some organizations and individuals can be.
I want to declare...
Just because I have tattoos does not make me an less credible than someone without tattoos.
Just because someone has gauges does not make them less intelligent than someone without gauges.
Just because someone has piercings does not mean that they are less considerate than someone without.
And this doesn't just apply to body modification, if someone wears a dastar (or turban) it doesn't mean they're a terrorist, it just means they are Sheik, likely.
Just because a woman wears a short skirt, doesn't mean she's a slut, "welcoming it," or unprofessional, just means that she lives in the 21st century.
It's not what's on the outside, but what's on the inside that matters.
It's amazing to me how outdated and bigoted some organizations and individuals can be.
10/4/12
pray
pray: to address a solemn request of thanks to a deity or other object of worship
My Uncle Danny told me recently that, "Some day there will be a time in your life that you will bow your head to pray." Danny isn't a particularly religious man, but he does feel that no matter what your faith may be, there will come a time that you ask something greater than you for help. I am skeptical of this-- mainly because there have been a lot situations in my life that one might see worthy of prayer, and yet prayer never helped, so eventually I gave up. Asking an invisible friend or pandering to a dogmatic belief in nothing isn't going to help your crapy situation, and well, seems kind of selfish.
Thinking this way has made me a little pessimistic. Well, let's be honest, a lot pessimistic. What I often forget though is that prayer without a deity comes in a very different form...prayer without a deity is ACTION. You make the choice to do something, to give someone a second chance, to fix a broken situation, to perceive things differently, to react in an ameliorable way. You have control, well maybe not always, but you have some shred of control over your actions and perceptions.
So with this is mind, I have been thinking a lot lately about if I were to pray, what would I pray about, when would I pray for it? So, wanna know the only situation that I could think of so far? You're going to laugh. It was during the drive from Boise to Idaho Falls for a roller derby game, our car left late and there was a good chance that if we didn't make it in time we couldn't skate. Speeding along the freeway, I was thinking to myself, "okay if I were going to pray, I'd do it now. Good Lord/Controller of Whatever, please help us make it to the bout on time, oh please, oh please help us." When if fact, it was Highway's led foot that got us there on time. Phew!
Crazy, huh? True, but I'd rather practice prayer through action. In the future, I vow to better see the choices I have in sticky situations, I vow to take positive action when/where I can, and above all, I vow to let go of the things that I cannot control and instead change my attitude.
My Uncle Danny told me recently that, "Some day there will be a time in your life that you will bow your head to pray." Danny isn't a particularly religious man, but he does feel that no matter what your faith may be, there will come a time that you ask something greater than you for help. I am skeptical of this-- mainly because there have been a lot situations in my life that one might see worthy of prayer, and yet prayer never helped, so eventually I gave up. Asking an invisible friend or pandering to a dogmatic belief in nothing isn't going to help your crapy situation, and well, seems kind of selfish.
Thinking this way has made me a little pessimistic. Well, let's be honest, a lot pessimistic. What I often forget though is that prayer without a deity comes in a very different form...prayer without a deity is ACTION. You make the choice to do something, to give someone a second chance, to fix a broken situation, to perceive things differently, to react in an ameliorable way. You have control, well maybe not always, but you have some shred of control over your actions and perceptions.
So with this is mind, I have been thinking a lot lately about if I were to pray, what would I pray about, when would I pray for it? So, wanna know the only situation that I could think of so far? You're going to laugh. It was during the drive from Boise to Idaho Falls for a roller derby game, our car left late and there was a good chance that if we didn't make it in time we couldn't skate. Speeding along the freeway, I was thinking to myself, "okay if I were going to pray, I'd do it now. Good Lord/Controller of Whatever, please help us make it to the bout on time, oh please, oh please help us." When if fact, it was Highway's led foot that got us there on time. Phew!
Crazy, huh? True, but I'd rather practice prayer through action. In the future, I vow to better see the choices I have in sticky situations, I vow to take positive action when/where I can, and above all, I vow to let go of the things that I cannot control and instead change my attitude.
9/24/12
mercurial
mercurial: characterized by rapid and unpredictable changeableness of mood; of, relating to, containing, or caused by mercury
I once vowed never to blog about my love life. Ha. Ha. Ha ha ha ha. Well, that ship has sailed! Now...
You all know that I've had flowers sent to me, breakfast made, but it's never really seemed as genuine as the past few weeks. Then BAM! Out of nowhere, we hit one speed bump and nothing, nada, zero, zilch.
Oh these mercurial signals, this hot and then cold behavior, they are hard for me to understand. I am, for the first time, angry at such a situation because no mater how much I think about it and about his reasoning and his situation, know matter how many times I've been through this before, I just get frustrated. Wish I could just snap my fucking fingers and fix everything, but the more I push, the more they pull, when pushing to me is just a small nudge of encouragement, it probably comes off as a giant shove. Damn, I'm tired of walking on eggshells and being the one who has to be patient.
Ha! I was over at Gill's house this weekend talking about all these sorted affairs and he echoed the rules that Nick made for me some four years ago...
1. If you see a man in uniform, run the other fucking way*
2. If that man says he isn't interested in punk rock, run even faster
that's not saying that military men are bad people, they've just been bad for me in the past. Apparently, I make them feel things they're not prepared to feel, that's the best way I can describe it. Woah, that makes me sound bat-shit-crazy. Shrug.
Anyway, funny thing, yesterday I was talking to Amy at work. Just chit-chatting away, when she started talking about this guy she was seeing. She said that they had been casually dating for about three weeks in August and that things were going great...they had a marvelous time together, grant it he seemed a little clingy (sent flowers, made her picture the backdrop on his phone, introduced her to his fam and friends, called her "his girl" all in the first two weeks), but she gave him the benefit of the doubt and plugged right along. When out of the blue, he stopped talking to her completely! Just plain old gave up. Lol. I chuckled and asked if perhaps we were dating the same guy. We weren't, but it's nice to know that other people are passengers in the same shitty boat. Misery loves company.
Moral of this sorted affair, "I'll bring home the bacon if you bring home the turkey." Please be patient with me, and I will reciprocate, trust me when I say I need consistency and will never be anything short of real with you, even if you end up running in the other direction, hands failing in the air, and I'll trust that you might return to my life. I guess I'd rather love with everything I have, be scary vulnerable, than tuck my tail between my legs and hide behind a cold shoulder and "picky-ness."
I once vowed never to blog about my love life. Ha. Ha. Ha ha ha ha. Well, that ship has sailed! Now...
You all know that I've had flowers sent to me, breakfast made, but it's never really seemed as genuine as the past few weeks. Then BAM! Out of nowhere, we hit one speed bump and nothing, nada, zero, zilch.
Oh these mercurial signals, this hot and then cold behavior, they are hard for me to understand. I am, for the first time, angry at such a situation because no mater how much I think about it and about his reasoning and his situation, know matter how many times I've been through this before, I just get frustrated. Wish I could just snap my fucking fingers and fix everything, but the more I push, the more they pull, when pushing to me is just a small nudge of encouragement, it probably comes off as a giant shove. Damn, I'm tired of walking on eggshells and being the one who has to be patient.
Ha! I was over at Gill's house this weekend talking about all these sorted affairs and he echoed the rules that Nick made for me some four years ago...
1. If you see a man in uniform, run the other fucking way*
2. If that man says he isn't interested in punk rock, run even faster
that's not saying that military men are bad people, they've just been bad for me in the past. Apparently, I make them feel things they're not prepared to feel, that's the best way I can describe it. Woah, that makes me sound bat-shit-crazy. Shrug.
Anyway, funny thing, yesterday I was talking to Amy at work. Just chit-chatting away, when she started talking about this guy she was seeing. She said that they had been casually dating for about three weeks in August and that things were going great...they had a marvelous time together, grant it he seemed a little clingy (sent flowers, made her picture the backdrop on his phone, introduced her to his fam and friends, called her "his girl" all in the first two weeks), but she gave him the benefit of the doubt and plugged right along. When out of the blue, he stopped talking to her completely! Just plain old gave up. Lol. I chuckled and asked if perhaps we were dating the same guy. We weren't, but it's nice to know that other people are passengers in the same shitty boat. Misery loves company.
Moral of this sorted affair, "I'll bring home the bacon if you bring home the turkey." Please be patient with me, and I will reciprocate, trust me when I say I need consistency and will never be anything short of real with you, even if you end up running in the other direction, hands failing in the air, and I'll trust that you might return to my life. I guess I'd rather love with everything I have, be scary vulnerable, than tuck my tail between my legs and hide behind a cold shoulder and "picky-ness."
9/23/12
heteronomy
heteronomy: refers to action that is influenced by a force outside the individual. Immanuel Kant, drawing on Jean-Jacques Rousseau, considered such an action nonmoral. It is the counter-opposite of autonomy. Philosopher Cornelius Castoriadis
contrasted heteronomy from autonomy in noting that while all societies
create their own institutions (laws, traditions and behaviors),
autonomous societies are those in which their members are aware of this
fact, and explicitly self-institute (αυτο-νομούνται). In contrast, the
members of heteronomous societies (hetero = others) attribute their
imaginaries to some extra-social authority (e.g., God, the state,
ancestors, historical necessity, etc.). (From Wikipedia)
in other words, what society thinks is "normal."
Normal. Uck. There's a word I loathe. For a long time I tried, even longed, to be normal, but after so many situations gone awry, I finally decided that heteronomy is not really my cup of tea. I enjoy self autonomy too much...or maybe I'm just too crazy to fit into the conformations of the masses.
That's not to say that I'm wildly different than other people in my community, our society. It is to say, however, that I have a little more courage than most people, courage to be genuine and unabashed, even if it goes against the grain.
So, the other night at work, Macy's, a little boy of about 8 years of age came up to the counter with his mom and started talking about his life goals. Love it! He asked me to ask him what he was going to be when he grew up, so I asked and what did he say?...he said that he's "going to do Scentsy!" Double love it! In a world where selling home candle warmers falls on the woman's side of heteronormativity, it's refreshing to see a boy justify wanting to work in such a profession. He went on and on about how his aunt sells Scentsy and how you can be your own boss and how he loves all the different scents and wants other people to love them too. The best part of this was that his mom seemed supportive and proud...grant it he's only 8, but still I think the world needs more people to encourage autonomy, even in the face of adversity. So right on! March to the beat of your own drum.
The one thing I wish I could have told that little boy is that sticking with his unique courage to be unabashed will prove difficult. People will right you off as crazy, people will even pull away from you because what you stand for, what you like, think, and feel makes them uncomfortable. These people will break your heart, will let you down, and might even bully you. I have firsthand experience. Don't let it eat at you. Being your own person, thinking for yourself is a scary and courageous thing. Stick with it and you might just reshape heteronomy a little, making it easier for future generations.
Speaking of Scentsy, look at the adorable warmer I bought!
in other words, what society thinks is "normal."
Normal. Uck. There's a word I loathe. For a long time I tried, even longed, to be normal, but after so many situations gone awry, I finally decided that heteronomy is not really my cup of tea. I enjoy self autonomy too much...or maybe I'm just too crazy to fit into the conformations of the masses.
That's not to say that I'm wildly different than other people in my community, our society. It is to say, however, that I have a little more courage than most people, courage to be genuine and unabashed, even if it goes against the grain.
So, the other night at work, Macy's, a little boy of about 8 years of age came up to the counter with his mom and started talking about his life goals. Love it! He asked me to ask him what he was going to be when he grew up, so I asked and what did he say?...he said that he's "going to do Scentsy!" Double love it! In a world where selling home candle warmers falls on the woman's side of heteronormativity, it's refreshing to see a boy justify wanting to work in such a profession. He went on and on about how his aunt sells Scentsy and how you can be your own boss and how he loves all the different scents and wants other people to love them too. The best part of this was that his mom seemed supportive and proud...grant it he's only 8, but still I think the world needs more people to encourage autonomy, even in the face of adversity. So right on! March to the beat of your own drum.
The one thing I wish I could have told that little boy is that sticking with his unique courage to be unabashed will prove difficult. People will right you off as crazy, people will even pull away from you because what you stand for, what you like, think, and feel makes them uncomfortable. These people will break your heart, will let you down, and might even bully you. I have firsthand experience. Don't let it eat at you. Being your own person, thinking for yourself is a scary and courageous thing. Stick with it and you might just reshape heteronomy a little, making it easier for future generations.
Speaking of Scentsy, look at the adorable warmer I bought!
9/11/12
manifesto
manifesto: a public declaration of policy and aims, esp. one issued before an election by a political party or candidate
When did it become an undesirable trait to have your shit together at a young age? Or to be intelligent. To use big vocabulary words and know their meanings. To think philosophically and be open to new ideas? When did it become a bad thing to be genuine and unedited. To dress provocatively, but still be classy. To live with intensity, to feel and think with wholehearted and full-bodied emotion and reprise. To be yourself? I don't know, but these are questions I keep asking.
Hi, my name is Monique, but you can call me Lemon or Mo'$ or Meekers. I am one fucking crazy, intense, educated, beautiful, emotional, real bitch. I call out hypocrisy and bullshit, I cry over crap that is important to me, I am sarcastic until the point of being a douchebag, I curse a fuck ton, I am a dirty, yet elegant, whore. I over think everything, I listen to my music too loud and ask too many questions, I jump to the worst conclusions and say that I don't like hugs or shrimp when I really do, I seek out organized chaos and rampant zen. I am not a follower, I make my own path, even if that means the risk of foolish and painful failure. Upon meeting me, you will think that I am quite, demure, reserved, a perfectionist. This is true some of the time. I value and work towards balance. Upon knowing me, you will think that I have lost all my marbles, and have a marvelous natural high. So long as you show me respect and consistency, trust that I have a good reason for everything, and be your true self, I will reciprocate. Also, bribes of sugar and sparkles wouldn't hurt. If I give a big enough shit, I will be nothing short of genuine, loyal, honest, and sweet to you. But you have to tell me if/when I am being a fucking intense cunt. Lol. If you want to know something or have anything to say, just ask, just speak, I will listen. I will not compromise myself, but I can be fiercely flexible. I am the storm before the lull, and this is my manifesto.
When did it become an undesirable trait to have your shit together at a young age? Or to be intelligent. To use big vocabulary words and know their meanings. To think philosophically and be open to new ideas? When did it become a bad thing to be genuine and unedited. To dress provocatively, but still be classy. To live with intensity, to feel and think with wholehearted and full-bodied emotion and reprise. To be yourself? I don't know, but these are questions I keep asking.
Hi, my name is Monique, but you can call me Lemon or Mo'$ or Meekers. I am one fucking crazy, intense, educated, beautiful, emotional, real bitch. I call out hypocrisy and bullshit, I cry over crap that is important to me, I am sarcastic until the point of being a douchebag, I curse a fuck ton, I am a dirty, yet elegant, whore. I over think everything, I listen to my music too loud and ask too many questions, I jump to the worst conclusions and say that I don't like hugs or shrimp when I really do, I seek out organized chaos and rampant zen. I am not a follower, I make my own path, even if that means the risk of foolish and painful failure. Upon meeting me, you will think that I am quite, demure, reserved, a perfectionist. This is true some of the time. I value and work towards balance. Upon knowing me, you will think that I have lost all my marbles, and have a marvelous natural high. So long as you show me respect and consistency, trust that I have a good reason for everything, and be your true self, I will reciprocate. Also, bribes of sugar and sparkles wouldn't hurt. If I give a big enough shit, I will be nothing short of genuine, loyal, honest, and sweet to you. But you have to tell me if/when I am being a fucking intense cunt. Lol. If you want to know something or have anything to say, just ask, just speak, I will listen. I will not compromise myself, but I can be fiercely flexible. I am the storm before the lull, and this is my manifesto.
7/25/12
bun in the oven
bun in the oven: slang for "pregnant"
...which I am not, thank gawd
A handful of people in my life are pregnant right now, and it's driving me fucking nuts. Truth be told, I can't stand pregnant people! I really can't. I've tried, I can't. That's awful, right? I'm an awful human being. Well, seems as if there are others who share my frustrations. If I'm going to hell, at least I will have company.
The Truth about Pregnant Women
I must add to this wonderful article. If you plan to work while pregnant, there is no excuse to leave early and tell the rest of the office that you have a doctor's appointment when, in fact, you don't. This isn't just my hating-pregnant-people-b.s., this is you being an ass-hat while pregnant. We get it! You don't have to explain one billion times that each pregnancy is different, and each person handles it differently. Seriously, if you are going to make the commitment to work (or do anything actually) while carrying a fetus, at least be a tolerable human being. I was complaining about this to my own mother recently, and realized that she is a great example of non-douchey pregnant ladies. She worked right up until two weeks before she had me, wore high heels, walked to work, didn't complain, didn't blame things on her "hormones." Go mom! Speaking of hormones, just because you have them doesn't mean you get to be a bitch to your husband/wife/partner, coworkers, and friends. These people are here to help and support you, but if you choose instead to treat them like shit, they won't be around for long. Just goes to show that it takes a selfish fucker to have kids. I'm sorry if this is offensive, but it is how I feel and I needed to get it off my chest...because I'm pretty darn sure that punching a pregnant lady in the face would result in jail time and a restraining order. Blogging about seems to be a better option.
And I apologize in advance to the world if ever I am pregnant. Actually, I give you permission to punch me in the face. I will totally understand!
...which I am not, thank gawd
 |
| hooray empty uterus |
The Truth about Pregnant Women
I must add to this wonderful article. If you plan to work while pregnant, there is no excuse to leave early and tell the rest of the office that you have a doctor's appointment when, in fact, you don't. This isn't just my hating-pregnant-people-b.s., this is you being an ass-hat while pregnant. We get it! You don't have to explain one billion times that each pregnancy is different, and each person handles it differently. Seriously, if you are going to make the commitment to work (or do anything actually) while carrying a fetus, at least be a tolerable human being. I was complaining about this to my own mother recently, and realized that she is a great example of non-douchey pregnant ladies. She worked right up until two weeks before she had me, wore high heels, walked to work, didn't complain, didn't blame things on her "hormones." Go mom! Speaking of hormones, just because you have them doesn't mean you get to be a bitch to your husband/wife/partner, coworkers, and friends. These people are here to help and support you, but if you choose instead to treat them like shit, they won't be around for long. Just goes to show that it takes a selfish fucker to have kids. I'm sorry if this is offensive, but it is how I feel and I needed to get it off my chest...because I'm pretty darn sure that punching a pregnant lady in the face would result in jail time and a restraining order. Blogging about seems to be a better option.
And I apologize in advance to the world if ever I am pregnant. Actually, I give you permission to punch me in the face. I will totally understand!
12/20/11
eeyore
Eeyore: a character in the Winnie-the-Pooh books, created by A. A.
Milne; generally characterized as a greyish-blue, gloomy,
depressed, anthropomorphic, old stuffed donkey
I went over to help eat the food Alby cooked and watch her put shiny things on their Xmas tree. I wasn't much help. Actually, in my defense I have a broken ankle and I did string on some beads!
We also watched the following movie...well I can't find a version to embed, so you can see The Help trailer here.
It was a fantastic reminder that, in retrospect, I have nothing to complain about. If I ever again speak of suffering, I need only to remember that there are those who have been deeper in the depths of pain than I. One thing is certain, the more you suffer the more resilient you become. My life has been worse than some but a whole heck of a lot better than others. My mom lent me the book, I'm reading it now.
p.s. I apologize for my masochistic and my self-loathing and my sadist vanity. Sometimes I relate most to Eeyore.
I went over to help eat the food Alby cooked and watch her put shiny things on their Xmas tree. I wasn't much help. Actually, in my defense I have a broken ankle and I did string on some beads!
We also watched the following movie...well I can't find a version to embed, so you can see The Help trailer here.
It was a fantastic reminder that, in retrospect, I have nothing to complain about. If I ever again speak of suffering, I need only to remember that there are those who have been deeper in the depths of pain than I. One thing is certain, the more you suffer the more resilient you become. My life has been worse than some but a whole heck of a lot better than others. My mom lent me the book, I'm reading it now.
p.s. I apologize for my masochistic and my self-loathing and my sadist vanity. Sometimes I relate most to Eeyore.
12/18/11
beef
beef: a problem, complaint, or grudge
p.s. my roommate just came home with another guy (another toothbrush, that's how I can tell for certain). I've stopped trying to call them by the correct name. Anyway. This reminds me, I've been meaning to complain IN GENERAL, AT LARGE, TO EVERY GIRL WHO HAS EVER GIVEN ME THAT EVIL LOOK. I've been meaning to complain that it's not my fault that all your boyfriends hit on me, it's not my fault that your husband never told me he was married until I met you, it's not my fucking fault that your fiance said he loves me in the wrong sort of way, it's not my fault that my ex is now your ex and for some ridiculous reason you are angry at ME...it's not my fucking fault. No wonder the one person I've ever loved is a moron who gives genuine attention like a cold, heartless rock.
It's not my fault.
p.p.s I need to stop blogging about heartbreak :P
p.s. my roommate just came home with another guy (another toothbrush, that's how I can tell for certain). I've stopped trying to call them by the correct name. Anyway. This reminds me, I've been meaning to complain IN GENERAL, AT LARGE, TO EVERY GIRL WHO HAS EVER GIVEN ME THAT EVIL LOOK. I've been meaning to complain that it's not my fault that all your boyfriends hit on me, it's not my fault that your husband never told me he was married until I met you, it's not my fucking fault that your fiance said he loves me in the wrong sort of way, it's not my fault that my ex is now your ex and for some ridiculous reason you are angry at ME...it's not my fucking fault. No wonder the one person I've ever loved is a moron who gives genuine attention like a cold, heartless rock.
It's not my fault.
p.p.s I need to stop blogging about heartbreak :P
portmanteau
portmanteau: a blend of two words into one; first explained by Humpty Dumpty in Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass
example- "vlog" = video + blog
I will probably come to regret this later. Here goes nothing!
example- "vlog" = video + blog
I will probably come to regret this later. Here goes nothing!
update: yup, regretting this. I was not drunk when I made this, cross my heart hope to die. But I have since lost that amazing t-shirt :(
12/15/11
on my mind...
normalcy: being within certain limits that define the range of normal functioning, President Harding's 1920's presidential campaign slogan
Houser, one of the girls I skate with, was sharing a story about both her personal and professional experience with VA psychologists. She, like me, was once in a relationship with an Iraq veteran. She also happens to be a licensed therapist. And well, apart from "reminiscing" about how crazy we felt in those relationships, she also confirmed my suspicions... some VA psychologists' idea of therapy is "pushy" at best. They define for the vet what is "normative behavior," and then they push them into that box, sometimes the pushing occurs even when the vet is ill suited or not ready for such normalcy. Take for example, a month ago T told me that he is in a new relationship. We've discussed, at length, about how he actively fights against being in any sort of relationship on a daily basis. When I asked him why then, all he had to offer was, "because I want to feel normal." If you don't genuinely want or desire to partake in normative behaviors, than why do them, why strive for them? And more importantly if you cannot fully and wholeheartedly engage in normative behaviors, aren't you cheating yourself and others involved? Seems silly to me.
I've struggled with this myself. The subjective and highly self-sustaining idea of norms, normalcy, normative behaviors, normal, etc. are not easily understood, at least not by my brain. I am not normal, others remind me of this daily, and actually, I have come to enjoy actively working against norms. That;s not to say I'm a deviant or some subversive. I'm an individual rather. In my own observations, many "individuals" lack the courage they need to be unabashedly themselves. They instead, compromise themselves and their life experiences in order to fulfill society's definition of "normal."
Fuck being normal. If I have to compromise my identity, my intuition, my love, my emotion, my anything, well then, that norm ought not to be followed. I suppose this starting to leans towards anarchy. But optimistically, without norms, society as we know it would change radically for the better, or so postulates my theory. If everyone adhered to the "you can swing your fist so long as it doesn't hit my nose" philosophy, I'd like to think that we'd have a happier healthier, more "zen" like existence.
Okay, this is turning into a run away thought. I digress. Back to normalcy and how being yourself above everything else is admirable! I got my brother-in-law a children's book for Christmas in the How do Dinosaurs...? series. It's a collection of books that basically socializes children and introduces them to the very identity stripping normative behaviors that I complained about earlier. I gave him this book as a reminder of a conversation we once had. The conversation was about his struggle to find the courage to be an individual, even if that individuality doesn't fit conventional norms. My brother-in-law is also an Iraq vet and he too has transitioned out of an organization where individuality and non-normative behavior are not valued. The transition has been difficult and I am glad that he has crazy me and my crazy sister here to remind him that non-normal is where it's at! Look, I'm no President Harding, but folks, don't compromise yourself just because society tells you to. Live with courage and intention; be an individual.
love: an incurable disease, or maybe an innate trait that manifests in unusual forms
Actively, I am trying not to fall in love ever again. Never again. The only way I can "return to normalcy" is to pretend you (there have been few) have met your death, your ultimate demise, vanished from this earth. The other remedy is to simply recognize that I have a disease. "Watch out cupid struck me with a sickness, pull out your little arrows and let me live my life." I wish I had written those words.
Love is sickness. Anyone have the virus?
Music video by Saves the Day performing Deranged & Desperate. (C) 2011 Razor & Tie Direct, LLC
Official Music Video for "Sick Muse", from the album FANTASIES 2009 Metric Productions http://www.ilovemetric.com video by Justin Broadbent and Michael Leach (HotDogGarbage) http://hotdoggarbage.com
Come to think of it, I just might have the cure, I just may. Materialism and destruction (posts to come on these topics). Bubble wrap and a shiny new dress, big sunglasses, loud music. There's comfort is destroying things, there's comfort is movement. DANCE. DANCE. DANCE.
Update 1/3/12- So today was the perfect day to listen to Dawes; sunny and cold, lots of work to do.
Remember I don't own this content, it's from "North Hills" by Dawes (2009)
Anyway, this song, specifically the lyric "you might be loves reminder, but love is all I am" got me ah-thinking. What if "love" is an innate trait that comes in varying degrees of intensity and some people have so much of it that it fills their entire being, where as others cannot feel it at all? That would explain a lot. It sure make coping with loses easier. What if everyone I have ever loved, their memory binding to my skin like super glue, painful to rip apart, are simply reminder of this trait that I have called love? I sure like that idea. It means that I have some control, no that's the wrong word, some ownership of where my love manifests, but I can still accept that "love is not convenient, it does not cease at your command."
Those are my thoughts! I have many more, mostly about materialism and destruction, but I will save those for another post.
Houser, one of the girls I skate with, was sharing a story about both her personal and professional experience with VA psychologists. She, like me, was once in a relationship with an Iraq veteran. She also happens to be a licensed therapist. And well, apart from "reminiscing" about how crazy we felt in those relationships, she also confirmed my suspicions... some VA psychologists' idea of therapy is "pushy" at best. They define for the vet what is "normative behavior," and then they push them into that box, sometimes the pushing occurs even when the vet is ill suited or not ready for such normalcy. Take for example, a month ago T told me that he is in a new relationship. We've discussed, at length, about how he actively fights against being in any sort of relationship on a daily basis. When I asked him why then, all he had to offer was, "because I want to feel normal." If you don't genuinely want or desire to partake in normative behaviors, than why do them, why strive for them? And more importantly if you cannot fully and wholeheartedly engage in normative behaviors, aren't you cheating yourself and others involved? Seems silly to me.
I've struggled with this myself. The subjective and highly self-sustaining idea of norms, normalcy, normative behaviors, normal, etc. are not easily understood, at least not by my brain. I am not normal, others remind me of this daily, and actually, I have come to enjoy actively working against norms. That;s not to say I'm a deviant or some subversive. I'm an individual rather. In my own observations, many "individuals" lack the courage they need to be unabashedly themselves. They instead, compromise themselves and their life experiences in order to fulfill society's definition of "normal."
Fuck being normal. If I have to compromise my identity, my intuition, my love, my emotion, my anything, well then, that norm ought not to be followed. I suppose this starting to leans towards anarchy. But optimistically, without norms, society as we know it would change radically for the better, or so postulates my theory. If everyone adhered to the "you can swing your fist so long as it doesn't hit my nose" philosophy, I'd like to think that we'd have a happier healthier, more "zen" like existence.
Okay, this is turning into a run away thought. I digress. Back to normalcy and how being yourself above everything else is admirable! I got my brother-in-law a children's book for Christmas in the How do Dinosaurs...? series. It's a collection of books that basically socializes children and introduces them to the very identity stripping normative behaviors that I complained about earlier. I gave him this book as a reminder of a conversation we once had. The conversation was about his struggle to find the courage to be an individual, even if that individuality doesn't fit conventional norms. My brother-in-law is also an Iraq vet and he too has transitioned out of an organization where individuality and non-normative behavior are not valued. The transition has been difficult and I am glad that he has crazy me and my crazy sister here to remind him that non-normal is where it's at! Look, I'm no President Harding, but folks, don't compromise yourself just because society tells you to. Live with courage and intention; be an individual.
love: an incurable disease, or maybe an innate trait that manifests in unusual forms
Actively, I am trying not to fall in love ever again. Never again. The only way I can "return to normalcy" is to pretend you (there have been few) have met your death, your ultimate demise, vanished from this earth. The other remedy is to simply recognize that I have a disease. "Watch out cupid struck me with a sickness, pull out your little arrows and let me live my life." I wish I had written those words.
Love is sickness. Anyone have the virus?
Music video by Saves the Day performing Deranged & Desperate. (C) 2011 Razor & Tie Direct, LLC
Official Music Video for "Sick Muse", from the album FANTASIES 2009 Metric Productions http://www.ilovemetric.com video by Justin Broadbent and Michael Leach (HotDogGarbage) http://hotdoggarbage.com
Come to think of it, I just might have the cure, I just may. Materialism and destruction (posts to come on these topics). Bubble wrap and a shiny new dress, big sunglasses, loud music. There's comfort is destroying things, there's comfort is movement. DANCE. DANCE. DANCE.
Update 1/3/12- So today was the perfect day to listen to Dawes; sunny and cold, lots of work to do.
Remember I don't own this content, it's from "North Hills" by Dawes (2009)
Anyway, this song, specifically the lyric "you might be loves reminder, but love is all I am" got me ah-thinking. What if "love" is an innate trait that comes in varying degrees of intensity and some people have so much of it that it fills their entire being, where as others cannot feel it at all? That would explain a lot. It sure make coping with loses easier. What if everyone I have ever loved, their memory binding to my skin like super glue, painful to rip apart, are simply reminder of this trait that I have called love? I sure like that idea. It means that I have some control, no that's the wrong word, some ownership of where my love manifests, but I can still accept that "love is not convenient, it does not cease at your command."
Those are my thoughts! I have many more, mostly about materialism and destruction, but I will save those for another post.
12/12/11
bobbery
bobbery: a disturbance or a brawl
Drunk Alby and Just-Woke-Up Alby are surprisingly similar people.
"Do you want to go Chrrrrristmas shopping?" I knew it. I had called too early in the morning. Damn. She was talking in that silly voice again, "Do you want to go Chrrrristmas shopping dear sister? I just ate an entire bag of biscotee. Do YOU want to go Christmas shopping with me, your beautiful sister?" Fine. Fine. I will go Christmas shopping. Stop asking. Grumble grumble. I am only do this to avoid the bobbery that would ensue, like being punched in the boob.
The rest of the day was spent receiving absurd looks from other customers and cashiers. Apparently, we talk about not so normal things in the checkout line. My favorite was, "I'm like 20% lesbian already, so I might as well work on it." "Makes sense to me." Nervous chuckle from our cashier. We also texted Mom a cascade of random photos of random things in random places; a taste of her own medicine. She secretly loved it though. And if I hear the words, "What should I get so-and-so" or "What do you want for Christmas" one more time...
fire, death, destruction. All will be black. Quit asking me for Pete's sake!
Here, here, here you go, these are my favorite things, these are things I need:
just kidding. Sort of. I would be content making cookies in your company.
I have even put some serious thought into what I will be attempting to bake. see subsequent post to come.
All said and done, I accomplished most of my shopping. There are stickers involved. Lots of stickers. You have been warned.
Drunk Alby and Just-Woke-Up Alby are surprisingly similar people.
"Do you want to go Chrrrrristmas shopping?" I knew it. I had called too early in the morning. Damn. She was talking in that silly voice again, "Do you want to go Chrrrristmas shopping dear sister? I just ate an entire bag of biscotee. Do YOU want to go Christmas shopping with me, your beautiful sister?" Fine. Fine. I will go Christmas shopping. Stop asking. Grumble grumble. I am only do this to avoid the bobbery that would ensue, like being punched in the boob.
The rest of the day was spent receiving absurd looks from other customers and cashiers. Apparently, we talk about not so normal things in the checkout line. My favorite was, "I'm like 20% lesbian already, so I might as well work on it." "Makes sense to me." Nervous chuckle from our cashier. We also texted Mom a cascade of random photos of random things in random places; a taste of her own medicine. She secretly loved it though. And if I hear the words, "What should I get so-and-so" or "What do you want for Christmas" one more time...
fire, death, destruction. All will be black. Quit asking me for Pete's sake!
Here, here, here you go, these are my favorite things, these are things I need:
- Costco-sized bag of Gold Star Jasmine Rice
- Boise Opera Tickets/Seattle Ballet Tickets, if you really love me you'd get me a season pass :)
- Wax skate laces from derbysupply.net (better yet, a healed ankle, you can fix broken bones magically, right?)
- Miscellaneous kitchen things that are M.I.A. (pastry cutter, basting brush, cast iron pan, tupper wear/lunch box that Gill stole from me/I keep forgetting to get from him, knife set, don't even ask me how I lost an entire knife set)
- New blow dryer, curling iron (both died on me, in a tragic accident)
- When in doubt, anything with sparkles, a pin-up on it, smells like lavender/ginger, or was made 50 years ago, headphones too. I can always use headphones and socks! I go through these the most in life. Well that and crappy boyfriends.
- Actually, this is kind of fun. I also like big pearl earrings, ice cream, root beer, ice cream and root beer together, I believe they call that a "float," those sea monkey pets we used to get when I was little, Eddie Vedder's hand in marriage, Bonnebell cherry lip gloss, green apple gum, Lion brand yarn, purple inked pens from Paper<3<3Mate
- Scratch everything, if you can't do the following, don't even bother with a gift
just kidding. Sort of. I would be content making cookies in your company.
I have even put some serious thought into what I will be attempting to bake. see subsequent post to come.
All said and done, I accomplished most of my shopping. There are stickers involved. Lots of stickers. You have been warned.
11/30/11
omega
omega: the twenty-fourth and final letter of the Greek alphabet (Ω, ω), transliterated as ‘o’ or ‘ō’
Do you ever feel like you're going to give up on everything soon. Like an ending is nearing? Like you're running out of letters to use and once you've used them all, there is no hope.
I hate this feeling.
Fuck having a perpetually broken heart.
Fuck losing your appetite.
Fuck insomnia.
Fuck scars.
Fuck depression.
Do you ever feel like you're going to give up on everything soon. Like an ending is nearing? Like you're running out of letters to use and once you've used them all, there is no hope.
I hate this feeling.
Fuck having a perpetually broken heart.
Fuck losing your appetite.
Fuck insomnia.
Fuck scars.
Fuck depression.
9/22/11
neologism
neologism: a newly coined word or expression, rising in use
I started reading my first assignment for LIS (Library and Information Science) 510 this morning, and already, I have reservation, contestations even, with the first sentence. THE VERY FIRST SENTENCE of my graduate education, and I already have issues. Oh boy, oh bother. Here's my rant, hopefully, getting it off my chest will allow me to move on and finish reading this stupid article...
Yeah okay, we get it. You are smart, and are a doctoral student, and wrote this fancy pants article. But seriously?! "Necessitatean" is not a word. Probably never will be. I mean, what the fuck does it even mean? You could have just said "made necessary." I even looked in the latin dictionary. It's not in there. You can't just make up words! What merit badge allows you to do that in a scholarly article? Only children who are confused about the past tense and grammatical structure of modern English do that. You are being a child! Or are you? Fine, make up your own words. Go right ahead. Maybe I'm just jealous. humpf. Whatever. "Necessitatean" is not a word! bottom line.
I started reading my first assignment for LIS (Library and Information Science) 510 this morning, and already, I have reservation, contestations even, with the first sentence. THE VERY FIRST SENTENCE of my graduate education, and I already have issues. Oh boy, oh bother. Here's my rant, hopefully, getting it off my chest will allow me to move on and finish reading this stupid article...
Yeah okay, we get it. You are smart, and are a doctoral student, and wrote this fancy pants article. But seriously?! "Necessitatean" is not a word. Probably never will be. I mean, what the fuck does it even mean? You could have just said "made necessary." I even looked in the latin dictionary. It's not in there. You can't just make up words! What merit badge allows you to do that in a scholarly article? Only children who are confused about the past tense and grammatical structure of modern English do that. You are being a child! Or are you? Fine, make up your own words. Go right ahead. Maybe I'm just jealous. humpf. Whatever. "Necessitatean" is not a word! bottom line.
8/29/11
firecracker
firecracker: an idiom meaning a very intense, lively, and outspoken individual; spitfire
I must place a disclosure at the start of this post...the words below are not aimed towards anyone other than one specific individual, and it's probably close to a 99.99% chance that you are not that person. Despite this, please feel free to read on.
So last night, meh, I forgot to mention one thing while under the dim lights of Sonic, sitting across from your small skeleton on that cookie-cutting red bench which left imprints of evil ovals on my thighs. I forgot to inform you that you're the one who made the biggest assumption of them all. You assumed I was okay, silly really.
Que poem.
Firecracker
I am not like you
your face all smugged together,
vapidly dribbling, "pain's not necessarily a bad thing...
drifting through life is the right thing to do"
fuck that shit,
I never want to live my life like that again
if it comes to it,
I will make all things messy and difficult
I will feel, but not wallow
I will live with intention, and not suffer
I will be a wild whirlwind
I will swing my wreaking ball right into your heart
smash it into a trillion tiny flecks of ruby red
you will feel my wrath
you will have no choice but to bow in my presence
as I sweat sugary seven-7-up-sprite
and stomp in giant puddles of hyperactivity,
splashing you and all your pathetic lambs with exhalation and a natural high
I will firecracker through your life like an electric storm of
glittery gold and fiery yellow,
sprinkling down onto your skin,
seeping-in like the creeping ash and the flickering sting of a cigarette burn
I will not be compromised.
I must place a disclosure at the start of this post...the words below are not aimed towards anyone other than one specific individual, and it's probably close to a 99.99% chance that you are not that person. Despite this, please feel free to read on.
So last night, meh, I forgot to mention one thing while under the dim lights of Sonic, sitting across from your small skeleton on that cookie-cutting red bench which left imprints of evil ovals on my thighs. I forgot to inform you that you're the one who made the biggest assumption of them all. You assumed I was okay, silly really.
Que poem.
Firecracker
I am not like you
your face all smugged together,
vapidly dribbling, "pain's not necessarily a bad thing...
drifting through life is the right thing to do"
fuck that shit,
I never want to live my life like that again
if it comes to it,
I will make all things messy and difficult
I will feel, but not wallow
I will live with intention, and not suffer
I will be a wild whirlwind
I will swing my wreaking ball right into your heart
smash it into a trillion tiny flecks of ruby red
you will feel my wrath
you will have no choice but to bow in my presence
as I sweat sugary seven-7-up-sprite
and stomp in giant puddles of hyperactivity,
splashing you and all your pathetic lambs with exhalation and a natural high
I will firecracker through your life like an electric storm of
glittery gold and fiery yellow,
sprinkling down onto your skin,
seeping-in like the creeping ash and the flickering sting of a cigarette burn
I will not be compromised.
5/26/11
tersely
tersely: brief and to the point; effectively concise
hmm, wish I could do things tersely. but no.
I’d rather not talk about moving to Boise. Too stressful. So, let’s give "tersely" a shot and leave it at, I ate a really delicious salad from hotel room service and I, for the first time in my life, experienced two thoughts at once.
oh. no. I feel a loquacious ramble coming on...
That being said, I am safe and soundly moved into a house and am working my old job at Albertsons until I find a better paying position with a more consistent schedule.
Dun dun dun. I got a phone call from the Lt. at McCord Air Force base today. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but I’ve got options. So, pretty much he told me that I am a strong candidate, except for my AFOQT scores are a little low and that I am a little young to have been selected. He let me know that with only a 9% selection rate, candidates who get selected are usually in their mid to late twenties and already have some managerial experience. So needless to say, I was not selected for this year’s officer training board.
This, although disappointing, does not mean the end of the world. The application process alone has made me reconsider, and to some extent solidify, my values. I’ve realized that I need and want a career in uniform (not necessarily military, but along the same lines) and that I am young and should seek more life-experience and world travel with a purpose. So as for my options, I can retake the AFOQT and reapply in any of the coming years. But, I think my game plan has shifted now. It’s not necessarily plan B…more like plan ½ of A. I am moving to Boise and starting graduate school in the fall and will use the next two to three years to earn my MLIS, gain managerial/leadership experience, and well, shenanigan-around and about. I’ve been so driven the last few years that I think it’s high time to take more unexpected opportunities. When I informed my sister of this, she said, “Please don’t get pregnant.” Don’t worry, I have no plans of pregnancy (at least not until I am well into my 30’s and maybe even indefinitely- don’t tell my mother). And that’s not what I mean anyway. What I mean is that I need time to dick around. I need to skate derby, sit on the roof with a lawn chair and fireworks, knit-bomb*, giggle at my siblings when they’ve had too many twisted-teas, have absurd conversations with my niece about anything and everything, bake cookies at one am in the morning and burn the char that has been building up like black guck on the sides of my brain these past few years. I know that an earlier version of my-self would have panicked at the thought of this; they would have cowered in defeat at the apparent stagnant-ization of progress.
I’m 22 and sometimes, most times actually, I think I’m 40 and in the middle of a quarter-life crisis, and other times I feel blue and like life sucks balls. But truth is, it doesn’t, and even if it does there are things about it, good and bad, that make that blue turn grey turn white, and make things oddly peace in all the chaos. This, this is what I need. I need time to remember what’s like to be spunky, to be curious, to be okay…with everything. In fact, I need time to just exist. I’ll work, I’ll go to school, I’ll have my goals, I’ll still be tenacious and driven and dramatic, but lighthearted this go-around. I do indeed want to accomplish all my goals, but later rather than sooner. Take my time and ensure that I’ll make it, spunky as ever, to my 40th and then 80th and then 100th year, one of those grandmas that plays bingo and wears the giant plastic sunglasses and curly-q visors and gobs of fake jewelry and power walks with her pals, one of those that still has a glow to her face and a zest in all she does.
*for more on knit-bombing see earlier post...
oh and...as for the two thoughts at once...I normally have a lot of back burners on in my mind. How I think is like a rapid fire gun, I grab, grab, grab thoughts from a giant floating cloud. But I never really think two thoughts at the same exact time. Never have I heard my brain's voice speak two words simultaneously, that is until I was driving and thought, AT THE SAME TIME, "i've never been tot hat rest stop before" and "I've never been to that Mexican restaurant before." This is silly, but I thought it was profound at the time and will probably continue to condition my brain to think like this, or maybe not. Thinking get's me into trouble sometimes. The brain, what a crazy thing it is.
5/14/11
leitmotif
leitmotif: a dominant and recurring theme; in music drama, a marked melodic phrase or short passage which always accompanies the reappearance of a certain person, situation, abstract idea, or allusion in the course of the play; a sort of musical label.
I was thinking...and I tend to get in trouble when I think...but, upon reflecting on my recent graduation (and receiving my last semester's grades. they weren't bad, instead, a simple reminder of my troubles), I have decided to vent. Despite such a wonderful accomplishment, I am a tad disgruntled with higher education. Don't get me wrong. I am grateful to have been allotted such a catalytic experience. And to have realized that I have and always will be a life-longer learner, inquisitive and curious in every regard. AND grant it, higher education has become a conventional necessity in today's economic market. But still I am peeved. I suppose it's because I now recognize that I could have gotten my BA in far less time and for far less money (especially if I had fleshed out my running start classes in high school and chosen a different university). And again, I'm tankful for all the opportunities Lewis & Clark College has provided me, as well as all the amazing (and at times astonishing) people I have met. However, with greatness comes pretentiousness and politics. Throughout college, I have struggled to reconcile my strong sense of work (or what some have entitled the "blue-collar gene") with the quirks of academia. For example, I like competition, but not of the academic flavor. When the competition exists between those you hold little to no respect for, or worse...between you and yourself, it can become maddening. Essentially, you start to degrade your motivation over simply receiving a B due to personal professor bias and end up exhausted, with no fire left to fight. During these past two years, feeling burned out and well-beyond ready to move forward, I have butted heads with aloof and insincere professors and sunk into a well of apathy. Despite the struggles, I have managed to graduate with honors...but I certainly don't want to ever feel this again. I vow, as always, to do everything with intention and the fullest of effort...but this time I will concede if there exists no passion, no respect, or no pride in what I do. I hate to disclose this, but academia is a joke; higher education is overpriced. I boldly believe that individuals should be cultivating their own knowledge through new technological and creatively collaborative means instead. I also believe that every individual should commit to some form of self-sacrifice. Although I may not fully endorse altruism, I still think there lies an exponential amount of merit in service to an entity that feeds your soul and benefits those you most cherish and respect. I suppose this avowal (although, again, I do not believe in absolute truths) is testament to my future goals and is intended to squash all that has bogged down my motivation these past few years. To heck with this, do what you love and do it with the utmost effort, care, and sincerity.
I was thinking...and I tend to get in trouble when I think...but, upon reflecting on my recent graduation (and receiving my last semester's grades. they weren't bad, instead, a simple reminder of my troubles), I have decided to vent. Despite such a wonderful accomplishment, I am a tad disgruntled with higher education. Don't get me wrong. I am grateful to have been allotted such a catalytic experience. And to have realized that I have and always will be a life-longer learner, inquisitive and curious in every regard. AND grant it, higher education has become a conventional necessity in today's economic market. But still I am peeved. I suppose it's because I now recognize that I could have gotten my BA in far less time and for far less money (especially if I had fleshed out my running start classes in high school and chosen a different university). And again, I'm tankful for all the opportunities Lewis & Clark College has provided me, as well as all the amazing (and at times astonishing) people I have met. However, with greatness comes pretentiousness and politics. Throughout college, I have struggled to reconcile my strong sense of work (or what some have entitled the "blue-collar gene") with the quirks of academia. For example, I like competition, but not of the academic flavor. When the competition exists between those you hold little to no respect for, or worse...between you and yourself, it can become maddening. Essentially, you start to degrade your motivation over simply receiving a B due to personal professor bias and end up exhausted, with no fire left to fight. During these past two years, feeling burned out and well-beyond ready to move forward, I have butted heads with aloof and insincere professors and sunk into a well of apathy. Despite the struggles, I have managed to graduate with honors...but I certainly don't want to ever feel this again. I vow, as always, to do everything with intention and the fullest of effort...but this time I will concede if there exists no passion, no respect, or no pride in what I do. I hate to disclose this, but academia is a joke; higher education is overpriced. I boldly believe that individuals should be cultivating their own knowledge through new technological and creatively collaborative means instead. I also believe that every individual should commit to some form of self-sacrifice. Although I may not fully endorse altruism, I still think there lies an exponential amount of merit in service to an entity that feeds your soul and benefits those you most cherish and respect. I suppose this avowal (although, again, I do not believe in absolute truths) is testament to my future goals and is intended to squash all that has bogged down my motivation these past few years. To heck with this, do what you love and do it with the utmost effort, care, and sincerity.
2/23/11
agog
agog: very eager or curious to hear or see something
I get in these antsy moods, where I can't listen through the entirety of a song and just keeping skipping over every single one. "Oooh this one's good. nope, skip it. Skip. Skip. Skip." I would blame all the punk rock I listen too, seeing that songs longer than 2 minutes are a near abomination, but I know better. I'm agog, impatient, anxious for something. What, I don't know. I'm in one of those moods. meh. question is, how long will it last?
thanks in large part to my current mood, this morning, I woke up antsy at 3am and finally fell back to sleep at 6 or so, but then slept through my alarm and was late to my Chem class. Stupid of me. I was late for my midterm and suffered for it. Test corrections, office hours, and being five minutes early to every class in order to get an A here I come! Not preferable, but I'll do what needs to be done.
Okay, okay, okay. I am trying for the life of me to get my thesis research done but...my thesis is on CMC and gender in social networking technology. Long story short, I spend a ton of time in front of the little lighted box they call a computer. My head is about to explode if I have to spend one more second on Facebook. Unfortunately, I must push on.
This is what I want, I want some one to "accidentally" break my computer and then for me to get sick so I don't have to look at this damn laptop any longer and so that I have an excuse to feel like crap and sleep all day...and drink chicken noodle soup and eat grilled cheese with pickles.
p.s. as I'm writing this, my sister just sent me the best e-mail ever...
Dear Ms. Davis,
oh! speaking of mommies, mine came down to visit me this past weekend and we went skiing at ski bowl. the snow was so amazing. Thick and fluffy enough that you could see its 3-dimensional shape :)
I get in these antsy moods, where I can't listen through the entirety of a song and just keeping skipping over every single one. "Oooh this one's good. nope, skip it. Skip. Skip. Skip." I would blame all the punk rock I listen too, seeing that songs longer than 2 minutes are a near abomination, but I know better. I'm agog, impatient, anxious for something. What, I don't know. I'm in one of those moods. meh. question is, how long will it last?
thanks in large part to my current mood, this morning, I woke up antsy at 3am and finally fell back to sleep at 6 or so, but then slept through my alarm and was late to my Chem class. Stupid of me. I was late for my midterm and suffered for it. Test corrections, office hours, and being five minutes early to every class in order to get an A here I come! Not preferable, but I'll do what needs to be done.
Okay, okay, okay. I am trying for the life of me to get my thesis research done but...my thesis is on CMC and gender in social networking technology. Long story short, I spend a ton of time in front of the little lighted box they call a computer. My head is about to explode if I have to spend one more second on Facebook. Unfortunately, I must push on.
This is what I want, I want some one to "accidentally" break my computer and then for me to get sick so I don't have to look at this damn laptop any longer and so that I have an excuse to feel like crap and sleep all day...and drink chicken noodle soup and eat grilled cheese with pickles.
p.s. as I'm writing this, my sister just sent me the best e-mail ever...
The assignment was to draw what they wanted to be when they grew up. After the picture was graded, the the child brought it home and then returned to school the next day with the following note from her Mommy (totally something that would happen to my sister too):
I want to be very clear on my child's illustration. It is NOT of me on a dance pole on a stage in a strip joint. I work at Home Depot and had commented to my daughter how much money we made in the recent snowstorm. This photo is of me selling a shovel.
oh! speaking of mommies, mine came down to visit me this past weekend and we went skiing at ski bowl. the snow was so amazing. Thick and fluffy enough that you could see its 3-dimensional shape :)
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