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!

Merry Christmas

I don't have a lot of words right now -- but it's Christmas time, and I wanted to share one of my favorite things with you. (Like Oprah. Only ... not Oprah in any way, lol.)

This isn't really a Christmas song, and it's not especially chipper, but it's beautiful and I love it.

Merry Christmas, y'all.

Huh

I was computing away yesterday morning -- lalalalalalaaaaaa -- when the internet decided that it had just plain had enough. Which, okay, that is a thing, but I was in THE MIDDLE of a job application when it went kerflooey. UGH! Which is to say: that's why there was no post yesterday. Which was too bad, because I totally wanted to tell you this:

I had a dream the other night that I was going to a fancy shindig, and I was wearing a super fabulous green dress and killer purple heels. I also had a perfect purple manicure. I was aware that I was dreaming because the shoes were comfortable, and that doesn't happen with stilettos, so that made the whole scenario more interesting, especially when I realized: Apparently, I am taking fashion advice from the Joker. What's that about, brain? What's it MEAN?

Which was when I woke up.

Huh.

Anyway, I hope that you are not too stressed this holiday season, that you can feel all of the love being sent your way, and that you don't  discover that you have accidentally dressed like a DC villain at any holiday parties you attend.

Look Outside

I live right on a river in New Hampshire. My home is beautiful, but the views outside are really what make it spectacular. Living here has given me the opportunity to see fish, otters, muskrats, the occasional beaver, groundhogs, chipmunks, and SO MANY SQUIRRELS, all up close and personal.

While I love all of those critters, what has really kind of changed my life has been the birds.

So. Many. Birds.

When I first moved back to this area, I was walking outside when I interrupted a covey of quail. (And that, by the way, is your trivia of the day... a bunch of quail are called a covey. Who knew?) They were both extremely cute and unbelievably unafraid.  I stood there and they did their little adorable quail thing around my feet, pecking the ground and occasionally looking up at me to make sure I was still being cool.

On the outside I was being cool. On the inside it was more like this: "LOOK AT THE BIRDIES* THEY ARE AMAZING OH MY GOODNESS I CAN'T EVEN SQUEEEEEEEEE."

It was a moment.

Eventually, they scuttled off on their little feet, and I realized, oh, I am going to become that person.  I mean, I've always loved owls, but ALL birds? Birds were going to be a thing now?

Yup.

When I moved into this building, one of the selling points (aside from the fact that I was homeless, haha) was this: the property manager pointed out that a heron had a nest just downstream and it was around a lot.  Usually right outside my windows, in fact.

Sold. To the crazy bird lady.

I have herons, gulls, wood ducks, mallard ducks (I once spent thirty minutes watching a momma duck herd her ducklings about, and oh my!), cormorants, phoebes, nuthatches, cardinals, titmouses (titmice?), woodpeckers, chickadees, hummingbirds -- they come to my windows and drive the cat insane, but they always make my day seem better. Always.

For the past few weeks, we haven't had a lot of birds around. I don't know if it's been the weather or what, but it's been very quiet outside of my windows. We had some weather and the birds started to come back -- new birds I hadn't seen before -- so both the cat and I were happy.

This morning, I was a little depressed. Holidays, unemployment, health, blah blah blah. I stayed in bed longer than I usually do, and then finally got up so I could feed the cat. I did our usual routine: stop in the book nook, take a look out over the water --

-- and that's when the kingfisher landed on the window sill.

I've never seen a kingfisher out there. Not once. And I certainly have never had one show up only to stare me down, which it did. It was magnificent. Feathers puffed out in the cold, regarding me patiently.

I, on the other hand, didn't dare to BREATHE. Or move. I didn't want to do anything at all that would scare it away. I felt as though it wanted to check me out, and I wanted to let it.

It cocked its head to one side, made a little bird noise as if to say, "You'll do," and then flew away.

Y'all, I don't know if there's a lesson or a moral to this story. I do know this: looking outside this morning has set what was fixing to be a terrible day on a much better path, and I think I need to do that more often. So maybe, if your day is a problem, and you feel stuck and sad, you could try looking outside.

It might not help.

But it might.

*I had to take a picture of them and email it to my dad to confirm that they were quail. I didn't used to be as bird-proficient as I am now.