Hi Strangers! Where’ve you been?
*blink blink*
I’ve been thinking about you for a while now, but honestly? I couldn’t stand myself! And for the one of you who still stops by (Hi Debra!! *waves*), I couldn’t subject you to any more ick from me! I could hardly stand myself! Subjecting you to me? NO!
*****
So.
I am on vacation this week. Thank GOAT! I cannot tell you how badly I needed to get away from the Gas ‘n Sip. It was practically unbearable. The mechanics were being ornery. Every time I asked them for something, it became a giant battle. Then they had to “escalate” it to their manager. *headdesk*
Even Don, the Nacho manager, said to me last Friday – “You need a vacation! I can’t stand to listen to you any more!”
I KNOW! Ugh!
Enough about that place.
*****
Today, I decided to clean. Big whoop, you say. No, no. This was a clean the closet/drawers/under the sink in the bathroom, AND clean the bedroom closet.
I was RUTHLESS! There was NO ruth in my house today.
Turns out? I? Am ridiculous.
I am NEVER allowed to buy another makeup brush for as long as I live. The number of brushes I found today is EMBARRASSING. Really. I have washed them all, and stowed them in one of the 14 (literally) makeup bags I found. The sad part? I wear very little makeup. I have, no word of a lie, 27 makeup brushes.
Ridiculous.
Also? Apparently, I have a “thing” for fingernail clippers. It always seems I cannot find one when I really need it, so it seems I have taken to buying them in bulk. I will never need to buy another one.
Ridiculous.
Moving on to the bedroom closet….
Wallets. I have issues.
Scarves? Ditto. Now, granted – I went through a stage when I wore scarves very often. I love them. They are so pretty. But once I hit a certain age (SHUT UP!) and the scarves started making me sweat, I don’t wear them any more. (Not to mention that crew-neck t-shirts make me all chokey.)
All in all, I have a back seat full of stuff to go to the charity shop. And enough garbage bags to fill up my bins for 3 weeks.
Ridiculous.
Although… being ruthless felt good. I have been wanting to do this for months. I have been looking in my bathroom closet and rolling my eyes at the chaos there. Now? The shelves are clean and organized. Everything is labelled (I love my label maker!).
So, now, I am relaxing on the sofa with a book, wallowing in a job well done.
Tomorrow? Perhaps I will tackle the cold/warm weather clothing swap.
Ruth won’t be allowed there, either. *wink*
We’ve all heard it. Heck, we’ve all said it:
“You choose your attitude.”
“What you put out comes back to you.”
“Thoughts become things.”
And on and on.
And d’you know what? MOST of the time, I really do believe that stuff. I really do.
Most of the time.
But how do you go back to that frame of reference when circumstances in life have left you feeling so tired, so beat up, so discouraged, so blue, that that frame of reference might just as well be on Pluto?
It’s no secret I have depression, controlled most days with happy yellow pills. I would love to not take them, or not have to take them, but for now, they are my best friends.
And because of my best friends, most days, I can be like Wonder Woman and her super-power wrist bands, fighting off anything yucky.
Lately, though, the batteries on my super-power wrist bands must be dead. I just can’t hear anything bad right now.
But, and here’s the thing, I HATE asking for help. Hate it. Hate. It. And I HATE venting/dumping/unburdening whatever it is I’m going through on people I love or who love me. I don’t want to burden them, or make my problems, their problems. Or worse, have them tell me their problems so that I know they know what I’m talking about? And then I’ll take on their problems too!! (My back just tensed even typing that!)
Okay, you’re thinking. Go talk to a stranger. Go to therapy. See a counsellor. I get that. I’ve done that. And I liked it. But actually finding a therapist with whom I am comfortable? Not so easy. The last one I went to made me feel I was in a principal’s office. Hard, straight-back chair, no pillows, no arm-rests, no tissues. She sat behind her desk and looked at me (in my mind) disapprovingly. And when I would curse? Oh, dear goat. You would think I just kicked her ferret.
Not good. So now I’m a little gun-shy, so to speak.
I REALLY want to get back to believing those happy statements.
So, I’m dumping my woe into the interwebs, so that I can let it go. Sorry to be a debby-downer.
Oh, hello! Come on in. You are just in time for lunch. We’re having mini-pizzas today. And root-beer.
In my never-ending quest to become a better human (as opposed to a better chinchilla, I guess) I have read a lot of “how-to” books. I am neither proud, nor ashamed, to admit that fact. It just is. Perhaps by seeing what worked for someone else, I might get ideas about how best to accomplish this feat. I know that there is no quick-fix to reach nirvana, and no one path works for everyone, but perhaps some combination of everyone’s ideas will help me.
One message that seems to be consistent throughout everything I have seen is to “put it out there”. Which I take to mean that what you put out into the universe as what you want, is what you will get. So if I put out there that I will be an asshat to everyone around me, everyone will be an asshat TO me in return. Or, if I want a million dollars, I put it out there, and I will get it. Somehow. Either way I’m not sure how valid this theory is, but I thought I would give it a try.
(The other thing that prompted this post is that I am reading, yet again, Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love in preparation for her newest book Committed. I love her writing and find her to be very soothing. And despite the fact that they are making a movie of her EPL book, and have effectively ruined it by casting Julia Roberts as the lead, I still love the book. )
So, I am going to put some of my less personal wants out there and see what happens. There are some, not listed here, that are just too personal, too intimate, that I will put out there in another manner. (In other words, MYOB. Although, since I started this, it’s not really MYOB since I’m making it your business. But – – I’m all confused now. Never mind.)
- I want to learn to speak French. I think it is a lovely language, and would love to be able to speak it.
- I want to have enough money so that I don’t have to worry, constantly, about it. I don’t need 300 million dollars (but I wouldn’t say no to it!) but, enough to be comfortable and worry free would be delightful.
- I want a new job. I want to have a job that excites me, that fulfills me, that I can feel like I am making a difference in this world. It would be creative and challenging and allow me to continue to learn and grow as a person. I am convinced that jobs like this exist. And I’m going to find one.
- I want to be fit and healthy. I want some form of exercise to be a part of my every day life. I want it to be a matter of course, rather than a matter of note.
- I want to limit the food I eat to that which is fresh, healthy, and as close to its original state as possible. Limiting processed food will allow me to reach goal #4 above, and provided goal #2 above comes to fruition I can do this.
- I want a string of pearls.
- I want to be a writer.
That’s the start of my list. I think this is vastly different from my bucket list and yet both lists are important.
So, there it is Universe! I want these things. I don’t care how I get them – I’ll leave that up to you – but I *do* want them. So, bring it on. And, the sooner the better. kthxbai.
Oh, hello! Come in and have a Caramelized Apple Tart* and some coffee.
My rant today is about the media. And all the time that is wasted on stupid stuff.
Do any of us REALLY care about Jon and Kate? About her new stupid hair-do? About his girlfriend? What about Misha Barton having a meltdown? Or how much the First Lady’s sneakers cost?
I freely admit that I look at the headlines on the tabloids. I even buy a People magazine on occasion. (I used to subscribe, but thought it was a waste of money for something that could be read in about 10 minutes.) I am not “above” reading about celebrity crap.
But OMGoat! Enough! Give us the “big” stories – who is getting married/divorced, who had a baby, who died. I don’t need to know about every time Kate Hudson goes to a baseball game. Or Lindsey Lohan goes shopping. Or Matthew McConahay goes running. There has to be something more important going on in the world than the fact that Kanye pulled another assholish move and dissed Taylor Swift. Let me think… OH! that’s right! There’s a friggin war in Afghanistan (among other places) and we (Americans, among other countries) have troops (sons, daughters, husbands, wives, parents) there.
And as far as the President goes? The complaining about him screwing up the country started BEFORE he even took office. Really? Can the complainers see into the future?? And where can I buy that skill? Like him or hate him, agree with him or don’t, but Judas H. Priest! Give the guy a fair chance to phuck everything up before you burn him in effigy! I would expect that of ANY president, regardless of the political party to which they belong. And to sit and analyze EVERY SINGLE THING HE DOES – mostly on the stuff not “Oh, by the way, I’m running the country” related, is childish and petty. Analyze the big decisions. Call your Congress and Senate representatives about that stuff. Don’t bitch because the First Family is wealthy and Mrs. Obama can afford, and chooses to wear, $500 sneakers. I may think it’s stupid to pay that much too, but if she has the money and wants them? LET HER.
Jesus Christ. Move on. Let’s get out of the weeds and focus on the big issues. There are plenty of wonderful charities doing great works all over the planet. Find out more about them. Read to the elderly. Teach someone to read. Go for a walk. But, please. Just stop with the inane blathering of all things inconsequential. There’s too much noise in the world already. Maybe we can help quiet it.
*Recipe for tarts:
How to Prepare: Take one pastry shell (half), layer on cheesecake, add 3-4 apple slices, then drizzle with caramel.
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Oh, hello! Come in. Have some coffee…
After today, I’m going to try to give up coffee. *SOB* This is not a decision I just made this morning while taking a walk. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.
A few weeks ago, I took a Friday off from the Gas ‘n Sip and decided to not have coffee. Well, it was really more that I was too bloody lazy to get off my substantial ass-et and make some. When I woke up on Saturday, I had the most excruciating headache and knew that it could only be the result of caffeine withdrawal. So after diving in face first and swimming around in a freshly brewed pot, I felt so much better!
I also recognized that this was not good. Clearly, I was jonesing for a fix. (OOOO, I sounded so gangsta right then… heh.) I decided that once my supply of coffee ran out, I would stop. I’d done it before. I can do it again. Right? *sob*
One other thing I also knew. I could not go thru detox while at work. If my previous headache was any indication, the Gas ‘n Sip and I could not be a part of each others existence during this time. My snarkiness was already too well known and documented around the Slurpee machine to add this fiasco.
Originally, I thought I would be well stocked enough to make it until my August vacation. (Nope, not doing anything during that time either. Thanks for asking. Well, maybe a trip to see Meffa in VT…) Anyhoo, turns out, I just brewed my last pot. I’m sitting here, savoring the flavor and the smoothness. *sob*
I love the flavor of coffee. I love the smell of coffee. What did me in the last time – why I started drinking it again – was that I just switched to decaf. I teased my taste buds with that delicious liquid and thought I was stronger than my need. HA!!! I’m such a fool. I am powerless against coffee.
“Hello. My name is Mary. I’m a coffee-holic.”
In preparation for this fiasco life change, I have purchased some lovely loose tea. I’m looking forward to trying it. It’s called Raspberry Sangria Tea. (I do love me some Sangria!!) Tomorrow will be the first day. I’d like to apologize now for any residual snatchiness that might surface during my withdrawal. Other than the anticipated headaches, frothing at the mouth, eye tics, convulsions, vomiting, and sweating, I think I will be fine. *sob*
Wish me luck. And pray to whichever goat you worship that I make it thru alive. Where is Dr. Drew and his “Gas ‘n Sip Employee Rehab” when I need him??
For now, I’m going to sit and cry into my coffee…
Oh, hello. C’mere, I have a question for you.
Has this ever happened to you?
It’s a little chilly out so you have the windows closed. You need to take a shower.
You’re in the shower, doing your thing. Shampoo, shampoo, shampoo, lather, lather, lather. You know the shower is hot, but you ignore the steam. (BTW, you live alone so the bathroom door is open.)
Anyhoo. You’re just about to rinse and the steam sets off the smoke detector, located right outside the bathroom door. (Convenient, no?) Awwww, crap.
The cats, who are waiting patiently for you to finish so they can rub up against your legs and add hair to them, FREAK OUT! Tails puff, claws scrabble, fur flies.
You reach out from behind the curtain and try to open the window. You have soap running down your face, you grab the curtain to steady yourself, and WHOOSH! It comes down off the wall. MOTHER F@*#^@*(!
Okay, so you drop the curtain, and manage to get the window open to let the steam out. The cats are no where to be found. The smoke detector is still screeching, and the shampoo is now down to your shoulders. You grab a towel and start waving it frantically under the detector to get the screech to stop, water pooling at your feet.
The noise finally stops. You turn around, and see the shower water flowing nicely from the nozzle onto the bathroom floor. You now have shampoo in your eyes, burning. You have to get the shower curtain back up long enough to rinse and to stop the waterfall. You balance the curtain precariously on the edges of the shower and finish your toilette, only to step out and find the cats playing in the puddles. ::sigh::
So, no? This never happened to you? Just me? Huh…
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