Back in the Saddle Again

So I had this great idea that I'd start a new blog, and that it would be all kinds of political and I'd
say profound things and change the world... and maybe I still will.

But.

Today has sucked out loud. People who just wanted to jam out to a country artist they liked are dead. Tom Petty, one of my favorite artists ever, may or may not be dead. At the time of this writing, it's not clear. My beloved Chester Bennington recently died. People are dying in Puerto Rico right now and our president is batshit crazy and the globe keeps getting warmer and I cannot with all of this. While I may put up the occasional political post -- because I'm me, and that's what I do -- I think that this blog? Might be more important. We need A Tail of Two Kitties. We need Randoms. We need to laugh and love and think and be kind.

At least, that's what I need.

So I'm coming back.

I hope you come with me.

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

Oh, y'all.

The day I realized that I needed to put my thoughts and words somewhere other than here was a tough one. I've been letting it all out here for so long! This is the place where I unleash my most crazy, much to the amusement of most of you.

It has been awesome. You have been awesome.

But there comes a time when things have to change. You have to focus. As last year became this year, I began to realize that I had things to say that, perhaps, didn't belong here. They were -- and are -- too pointed, I think. Too political. Maybe too much for some of my readers (Hi, Mom).

So instead of writing them here, I just ... didn't write. Because I didn't want to offend anyone, and because this didn't seem like the proper forum. While this blog has been political at points, it has not had that as its focus and I didn't want to suddenly veer wildly off the deep end into the realms of healthcare and feminist politics and whatnot when people are really accustomed to Friday Randoms. I loved the Randoms, and they have a place (said place will likely be my FB page), but I feel as though having a voice means USING your voice, and I don't think I have been using it as well as I could.

As a result, this blog will be going dark. Entirely dark? you ask. Well ... probably? But there may be a post here and there when something amusing occurs to me. Otherwise, you will be able to find me at http://www.plusplusalsoand.com (WOOO I HAVE MY OWN DOMAIN NAME!).

So. Finally. Thank you. Thank you for reading for seven years. Thank you for laughing along with my ridiculousness, and holding my hand when I cried, and just generally being awesome. You have been the best audience a writer girl could ever ask for, and I love you all.

Great Expectations

Sometimes I feel as though there was a something that I was supposed to do with my life, and I didn't do it.

Wait. That's not entirely accurate.

Sometimes I feel as though there were a lot of people expecting that I would do something with my life, and I haven't done what they thought I would do.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. In an effort not to be completely depressed about being unemployed, I decided to consider it an opportunity. A blessing, even. A chance to look at what's out there for work and think about what kind of work would make me really happy.

What I discovered surprised me. The answers to the question "What fills Yellie's soul" were not what I was expecting. It turns out that what I love the most is very specific ... and also something that I have been unwilling to allow myself to do.

It's silly, really, the way I put the idea of happiness on the back burner when it came to career choices.  I wanted things from employment: money, benefits, security, prestige. Being happy and fulfilled fell off the list a long time ago, because being successful meant having those other things on the list.

Right?

But after a plethora of jobs, I realize this: the amount of money you bring home doesn't matter if your job makes you feel sick to your stomach on a daily basis. Having a fancy title is useless if your job stresses you out so much that your hair is falling out.

I've come to understand that the ONLY thing that I am supposed to do with my life is live it well, by my own definitions.  That's it. That's the thing I'm supposed to do.

That's what success looks like.

I hope we are all successful.

What's In a Name

I had a birthday last week. I turned ...

... a year older! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Just kidding. I turned forty-one.

I don't mind being forty-one. I don't actually mind getting older because the alternative is to no longer shuffle along this particular plane of the mortal coil, and I like it here quite a lot. Plus, there were a few times in my life when I thought I might not make it this far, but here I am. Still plugging along.

It's all good, is what I'm saying. Well, it's almost all good.

It's good-ish.

Here's the bit that is stressing me out more than it should be: my name.

You might be wondering, well, what's wrong with your name? The answer, of course, is NOTHING. There is nothing wrong with my name. I have a great name.

It's just that very few people use it. These days, I mostly get called Yellie by, um, everyone. I don't think there's anything wrong with this, because I actually refer to myself as Yellie most of the time. I am very rarely Danielle, even to myself.

But.

As I continue to look for employment (HELLO PLEASE HIRE ME), I have been writing my name -- my actual name, obvs -- on applications. It looks nice there (IT WOULD LOOK NICER ON AN OFFICE DOOR THOUGH PLEASE HIRE ME), and it's a solid name, a dignified one.

"Yellie" is, perhaps, not so dignified. It is, maybe, juvenile and silly.

This is what is stressing me out. Am I too old to still be a Yellie?

Help! Opinions are needed!