Monday Meh

Hey all. This post comes to you from an Urgent Care, where it is being determined what, precisely, is wrong with me... Just kidding, that could take DAYS. I have strep throat. So, antibiotics, liquids, sleep, and I'll be back here tomorrow, blathering on per usual. The good news is this facility is really nice, and except for someone blurting out that I look like death (guess I shouldn't have bothered with the lip gloss, oops) everyone here has been really cool.

So there's that.

Hope your Monday is fabulous, darling!

Friday Randoms

I

"So then I was having a Queen marathon in my office, and I realized that a big chunk of real estate in my brain is filled with Queen lyrics and not, say, algebra."

"Pfft. No one uses algebra. You're putting that space to good use."

II

"I need a black shirt."

"All of your shirts are black."

"I don't have a nice black shirt. Like, a fancy one."

"What exactly would constitute a fancy shirt?"

"Ruffles. And buttons."

"As opposed to the one that you have that ONLY has ruffles, and the one that ONLY has buttons?"

"You say that like it's weird."

"Goodness, what AM I thinking?"

III

"What did you do during lunch?"

"Put on makeup."

"Why would you do that?"

"I was having a craptastic morning. Nothing lifts a mood as quickly as black mascara, red lipstick, and big ass earrings."

"Some people do yoga."

"And some of us get FANCY. Whatevs."

IV

"Dear God in Heaven, what happened to that Transformer?"

"He was. Um. Attacked by Decepticons. Decepticons with a giant laser? That trapped him in a state between robot and machine. VERY UNFORTUNATE."

"You threw away the instructions and can't transform him."

"What do I look like, an engineer? HOW ARE THESE TOYS FOR CHILDREN? I can't figure it out and now he's stuck."

V

"Were you just singing 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn' into a HIGHLIGHTER?"

"NO! ... Yes. It's not a highlighter. It's a very yellow microphone."

"You are so weird."

"The imaginary crowd LOVED it. I got a standing ovation."

"And whatever will your encore be?"

"I was thinking 'Fallen Angel' but I'm willing to take requests."

When Your Mind's Made Up

Lately, I have been making choices in my personal life that I am well aware some people have found ... let's say questionable, because it's preferable to "batshit crazy."

(But let's also acknowledge that I'm aware that there are people who think I'm batshit crazy.)

There was a time -- even fairly recently -- when this would have bothered me immensely.

It doesn't anymore, though.

At some point within the last year it finally dawned on me that this? This life? This is what I get. So I can either do the things I really want to OR I can not do them. It's up to me. The ramifications of those choices are also up to me.

I mean, duh.

And also?

REALLY? She asked, rubbing her hands together in glee. Oh honey, there are going to be some CHANGES around here.

It's sort of like this: I was talking with a friend of mine and he said, "You know what? Who cares if no one gets it as long as it makes sense to you."

It used to be really important to me that I not make mistakes. When someone (ahem) told me that blogging was stupid? I stopped blogging because I didn't want to be the weird girl with the blog. When someone (ahem AHEM) told me that I wasn't a very good singer, I stopped singing in public. Not because I didn't love doing those things, but because I wasn't certain enough of myself to have the courage to keep doing them if I was going to be heckled for them. I couldn't hear anything over the negative messaging, and those negative messages told me not to do, not to try, not to be.

Here's what I've come to realize, though: listening to negativity? Doesn't make it go away. It's going to be there whether you are the weird girl who writes or the weird girl who simply wants to write but doesn't dare because someone might think it's stupid. It's better to put yourself out there and be stupid than to wish and not know.

It's better still to put yourself out there, risk being stupid, and not give a good goddamn.

It took me a while -- obviously, I'm 37 and I'm just figuring it out -- to realize that the voice I most need to listen to is MINE. And that while I value input, and can continue to ask for it, I need to make sure that I'm doing what makes me happy.

Just me.

Making up my own mind.

It's about time, don't you think?

The Myth of Once Upon A Time

When my Wasband* and I split up, one of the reasons (as in, one of the real reasons and not one of the stupid ones like "You don't know how to ski" because ... WHO SAYS THAT?) was that he wanted the fairy tale, and we weren't living that anymore.

So let me put this out there right now: Life? Not a fairy tale.

I mean, sometimes it sort of is. There is that dreamy, montage period at the beginning of every relationship that is like every happy love song on the radio. Like, Neil Diamond singing "Forever in Blue Jeans" while you dance in a field of dandelions, with butterflies flitting about and a perfect, just right shade of sunshine reflecting in your hair (maybe this is just MY picture? But you know what I mean, right?) as the day wanes and life is so amazing that you're practically a Disney Princess (or, you know, Prince if that's how you roll).

But those moments? They come and go. Honestly, mostly they go, and what comes is daily stuff like laundry and grocery shopping and isn't it someone's turn to make the bed or take out the trash? Which isn't to say that you should STOP dancing in grassy meadows, but which IS to say that the daily stuff is, well, daily. And the Disney moments are less frequent.

And that's okay.

The problem, I think, is that my Wasband -- and so many of us -- think that every day should be magical without realizing the following:

The ability to make it through the laundry, grocery shopping, and bed making on a daily basis IS kind of magical.

Look, I'm a firm believer in grabbing (or you know, creating) amazing, romantic, fabulous moments whenever you can. Do it up, my friend.

But don't expect to live there. Because -- and trust me on this -- the Disney stories? After the Princess marries her Prince? They have EVERYDAY LIFE. What you see of those stories -- the magical, mythical part -- ends at the beginning. Which, as I've already mentioned? Is the special part, but not the magical part.

The magic? Is looking at someone every day across the dinner table and thinking, You know? I'm pretty sure I want to see that face there again tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that, even when the brain behind that face has done something annoying or goofy or, let's face it, pretty freaking stupid.

That's the magic.

The rest? Are moments. And I'm not going to lie -- some of those moments? ARE FANTASTIC. Never stop creating those moments.

But don't give up on the everyday because you forget to see the magic of that.

While I'm on this topic -- which I am, by the way, because I'm surrounded by people in every stages of relationships and choosing to be a relationship tourist (I know, I should participate, please don't start) -- here are some other observations regarding the Myth of Once Upon a Time:

1) Love does not mean taking someone's burdens from them. You are not anyone's fairy godperson. You are not responsible for taking their problems from them, no matter how much you love them. You can put a shoulder under one end of it and take some of the weight off. You can help solve for X. You can HELP. You can't CURE. If rescuing is your thing? Go to an animal shelter. If a partnership is your thing? THEN you can date. (This also means that it is not your partner's responsibility to take your problems from you, though I do ... FIRMLY ... believe that they can help you to carry and work through them.)

2) If you only want those magical beginning of a relationship moments? Write romance novels. Or read them.

3) If you want special moments -- and you should, we all deserve them -- don't expect that someone will create them for you if you can't be bothered to create them for your partner. And if you can't be bothered to create them for your partner (and they can be very small and silly, they don't have to be elaborate)? You need to reconsider what you're doing there.

But be honest. Don't tell them you're leaving because they don't know how to ski. I mean, really.

"Once Upon a Time?" That's ... a moment.

Happily Ever After, though ... that's a long haul.


*I didn't come up with this. BUT I WISH I DID IT'S BRILLIANT.

Focusing on the Wrong Part of the Story

I have mentioned -- a time or two -- that I have a cleaning/neatness thing. Order is important to me. Maintenance and cleanliness are important to me.

Sometimes, though, they have to fall by the wayside.

Thing that happened (short version of the story, because ain't nobody got time for the long version): broken glass is WICKED sharp and stabby. Which, duh.

And also, OWWWCCCHHH.

And also also? Bloody.

Know what happens when there's bleeding? You don't have time (or, you know, inclination) to clean. Because ... did I mention? BLEEDING.

And you can't freak about the mess. The mess? Isn't the problem. The wound is the problem.

I had not forgotten that life is messy. I think about that daily. But I also -- with some regularity -- get wrapped up in the wrong part of the story. When your hand is bleeding, taking time to fret about the carpet isn't just ridiculous, it's simply WRONG. You can't care about that. People first. Carpets second. Because honestly? WHO CARES. 

(Which isn't to say that I didn't clean the HELL out of that carpet later. Of course I did. I'm ME.)

The thing is, though, that I think I -- we, people -- tend not to make the people the central part of the story. I think the bloody carpet often gets the attention first, as though that needs to be addressed before a hand gets stiched up, or as if the person who is bleeding is less important than something that cannot bleed and does not have needs.

On a scale that's larger than a sliced up hand? I feel like we have an entire nation of people who are bleeding while policy makers and politicians are working on cleaning a carpet. And it BOTHERS me. It bothers me that so many people are struggling and instead of working to make it better, make it right, make it work, we have paid officials who want to make sure that the plan has the proper labels on it.

STOP LOOKING AT THE CARPET AND LOOK AT THE WOUND. Stop the bleeding.

Focus on the right part of the story.

At any rate -- everything in the house is fine. Glass cleaned up. Wounds attended to and healing. Bloodstains eradicated. Nothing broken that can't be replaced.

In terms of the bigger picture? I guess we'll have to wait and see. I wish I had more hope.

I wish.

Pot Calling Kettle

I had a conversation with a friend over the weekend that included the following:

I said, "The thing is, if you need help? Or if you are hurt and need something? You have to tell me."

My friend said, "Oh, right, because that's what YOU do."

Friend: One. Me: Zero.

People like me love the internet because it both is and isn't public. I spend quite a bit of my life in my own head, which can be both awesome and intensely uncomfortable. Online, I can puzzle things out or talk about the things that are happening and reach out to people without having to, you know, reveal more than I want to. That's the problem with interacting face to face -- you might accidentally confess more than you intend.

It's not really a problem.

It's a problem that I think it's a problem.

And it's a problem when you expect the people you love to rely on you, to know that they can, if you don't trust them enough to rely on them. It makes them feel useless or, worse, like a project. If there's one thing I hate, it's someone who wants to "fix me" -- and if there's another that I hate, it's the notion that someone might think that I'm trying to "fix" her or him.

People are not machines. I am not a mechanic.

But my friend was right. For our friendship -- for any relationship -- to work, you have be worthy of the receipt of trust? And you also have to extend it. If you're going to extend a hand to help? You also have to be able to reach out FOR it. Especially when your friend is saying, very openly, that it makes her/him feel useless when you don't. Especially when they tell you, flat out, that they need you to trust them as much as they trust you.

I think that, before that conversation, I missed seeing how arrogant it is to believe that you can solve all of your problems AND everyone else's, and never to ask for or accept help, and how small people feel when you brush their kindnesses aside -- not because you don't love them and appreciate their gestures, but because you don't know HOW to accept them.

This all makes me feel like an idiot.

I HATE feeling like an idiot.

I promised to try, though. My friend also promised to try. I guess trying is all we can do and keep on doing.

We'll see.

And maybe next time we talk, our conversations will be about what lifts us up, and not what holds us down.

Friday Randoms

I

"So, what would you do if, like, you actually became a famous writer and had to give talks and stuff?"

"Um. What?"

"It could happen."

"No it couldn't."

"It totally could. Like, you could win an award? And then have to have, like, a panel discussion or some such. And people would ask you questions and you'd have to answer them and it would be the coolest."

"That's never gonna happen."

"If it does? You're going to need to dress like a grownup."

"And that's DEFINITELY never going to happen."

II

"I saw a picture of myself with long hair the other day."

"Did it make you want to grow your hair out?"

"No, it reminded me what a pain in the ass long hair is. So if I say I want to grow it out? Poke me wicked hard in the forehead."

"Really?"

"No. But remind me of this conversation."

III

"So, you're sick."

"Yep."

"And you're ... taking the day off?"

"..."

"You're working."

"I have to. Gots to earn Beansie's kibble."

"Maybe she should get a job."

"She's not a good employee. Too mouthy."

"The fact that you didn't even have to think about that answer is weird."

"What? I talk to her all day! She's SASSY."

IV

"I mean, does she get that I'm pretty much broke and don't just eat ramen because I think it's delicious?"

"You DO think ramen is delicious."

"That is so not the point I'm trying to make right now. But yeah, I find it strangely yummy."

V

"I walked into the store and there was this skirt. And it spoke to me. It said 'Yellie.' And I said, 'I can't talk to you, pretty skirt.' And it said, 'No, see? I'm on SALE. It's cool. Come over here!' And I said, 'No, that's a terrible idea.' And it made a sad little noise, like 'Okay, sniffle sob' and then I FELT bad so I had to go see it. And then, you know, buy it."

"How much is your copay for therapy?"

"Why?"

"I feel like whoever you're seeing can't be making NEARLY enough."