Yes, last week I turned 30. Honestly, I'm surprised I made it this far, I'm a pretty reckless bitch. With 30 comes a new outlook in life, mostly that I'm not 20 anymore. Which just because I'm not in my 20's doesn't mean I'm going to suddenly start acting right. Fuck that, I'm just figuring out how to do me, I'm not about to let something like beginning a new decade change that.
So what exactly have I learned in the last 30 years of my life? What majestic, golden nuggets of knowledge can I spread to the world? It's hard to decide which ones are the most important but I'm going to try really, really, hard.
#1. I'll never remember to take my meds.
Ever since I got off birth control to try and get prego, my uterus has gone rogue and continually attempts to take my life once a month. Because of this, my friendly neighborhood vag doctor suggested trying out birth control again, this time the pill. So I was like, "Alright. Whatever keeps my insides from committing harikari every 27 days is fucking a-alright with me." It seemed like a great idea until I figured out why I never took the pill in the first place. I can't remember to take that shit. It's annoying and it makes my penis envy skyrocket. All I can say is its a pain in the ass and come shark week I'd better see some positive results.
#2. I am getting too old for the bullshit.
From the little petty fights over dumb shit to the little fibs we all tell to spare each others feelings to being treated like anything besides the magnificent land mermaid I truly am, I'm fucking over it. My bullshit tolerance has severely diminished in the last few years. There is absolutely no reason for me to emotionally explode over stupid shit anymore. You talk trash to me, I'll give you a respectable response but beyond that, by Felicia. Go be sad about your life somewhere else, you hateful heifer. I don't need your negativity in my life.
#3. I'll sleep until whenever the hell I want.
I get that I probably should be productive on the weekends but honestly, if I want to sleep all day, I'm gonna do it. No amount of texts or calls is going to change that. So to my sister, I'm sorry you're bored but I'm an adult. If I want to sleep for 17 hours, I'm going to sleep for 17 hours. I'm not going to feel bad about it. Also I probably peed the bed, please come change my sheets and roll me so I don't develop bedsores.
#4. I'll act whatever age I wanna act.
I'm not saying that in a tantrum like way but if I want to beat on a tambourine while wearing a pink wig and interpretive dancing to Sia, well damn it, Imma do it. I pay taxes. If you don't like it, go find something more adultier to spend you time on, like analyze the stock market or organize your sock drawer, I don't give a shit what you do. Just get your foot off my ribbon dancer and clear the room, I've got cartwheels to attend to.
#5. I am allowed to make mistakes.
I'm 30, not dead. Last time I checked there isn't an age that automatically makes you immune to bad decision making. So I'll continue to make mistakes and yeah, most of them are going to be really, really dumb but I'm not that worried about it and you shouldn't be either. Shit happens. Plus it's all the mistakes that make life entertaining. Maybe not at that moment, maybe not to you but I'd probably laugh at your misfortune, just as I expect you to laugh at mine. Life is too short.
#6. Patron is delicious.
Nuff said.
So in closing, those are a few of the magical things I have to share with the world as a 30 year old. I'm super not pumped about being 30, not that it really matters because I was told a couple weeks ago I look 27 so I'm sticking with that. I'm 27...don't ask questions...
Monday, July 11, 2016
Monday, June 27, 2016
The Time I Went To The Doctor.....
So I went in to the doctor last week to get a sensual and romantic pap smear done, as a woman does every couple of years. They do whatever they do, call me obese, tell my to change my lifestyle, scrape the inside of my vag with that wirebrush thing, the usual. Two days later they call me and say, "You have an STD..." Ok not an STD but I did come back with a yeast infection. Which happens to women every once in awhile when our bodies decide that they want to be rouge bastards. Also if you ever ask a girl if she's ever had a yeast infection and she says no...she is a fucking liar. Or maybe her vagina is so jacked up she just never noticed she had one. Either way, probably wouldn't bone her if I was you. So they tell me I have this and I say, "That sucks" and they said "We are sending a prescription in for you" so I say "Cool. Thanks. Much Love. Peace out." and drop my phone like a boss.
I go to pick up that perscription and another one I had waiting for me when I run into Rob. Obviously we are still cool and talk to each other. No T. Swift bad blood between us. I'm chatting with him as we are waiting on our meds and tell him the whole story about the yeast infection. Because after 11 years together, we've both seen some shit so it's not a big deal to talk about that stuff. We get our meds, pay, walk through Target, I get a pop, we pay again. So while we are talking I pull the pill out to take it because I want my lady bits back from the dark forces. I take it right as we walk outside of the store and immediately it gets caught in my throat, I hack it up like a hairball into my hand. It had already started to dissolved and i say, "Does this look weird? Like it was a chewable or something?" and Rob says, "I really don't think they make chewable yeast infection pills...." So I hammer it down, just as I finish my drink of pop he goes, "Wait.....don't you usually have to stick it up there with yeast infections?" I turn to him and my face drops, "Holy...fucking...shit...." He asks, "Didn't you read the instructions?!" Now I'm in a full panic because I didn't, I assumed it was an oral pill, "NO!! WHY WOULD I DO THAT?! HOLY SHIT DID I JUST EAT A VAG PILL?! WHAT DO I DO?! AM I GONNA DIE? DO I NEED TO CALL AND TELL THEM I ATE IT SO I NEED A NEW ONE. OH MY GOD!!!" Let me remind you this is all happening in the parking lot of Target with actual humans around us while I'm screaming my head off. I start throwing things out of my purse looking for the wrapper thing it came in. "OH THANK BABY JESUS. It's a mouth pill." We both laughed about it, said goodbye and parted ways.
And that's the time I was 200% convinced I ate a vaginal suppository.
I go to pick up that perscription and another one I had waiting for me when I run into Rob. Obviously we are still cool and talk to each other. No T. Swift bad blood between us. I'm chatting with him as we are waiting on our meds and tell him the whole story about the yeast infection. Because after 11 years together, we've both seen some shit so it's not a big deal to talk about that stuff. We get our meds, pay, walk through Target, I get a pop, we pay again. So while we are talking I pull the pill out to take it because I want my lady bits back from the dark forces. I take it right as we walk outside of the store and immediately it gets caught in my throat, I hack it up like a hairball into my hand. It had already started to dissolved and i say, "Does this look weird? Like it was a chewable or something?" and Rob says, "I really don't think they make chewable yeast infection pills...." So I hammer it down, just as I finish my drink of pop he goes, "Wait.....don't you usually have to stick it up there with yeast infections?" I turn to him and my face drops, "Holy...fucking...shit...." He asks, "Didn't you read the instructions?!" Now I'm in a full panic because I didn't, I assumed it was an oral pill, "NO!! WHY WOULD I DO THAT?! HOLY SHIT DID I JUST EAT A VAG PILL?! WHAT DO I DO?! AM I GONNA DIE? DO I NEED TO CALL AND TELL THEM I ATE IT SO I NEED A NEW ONE. OH MY GOD!!!" Let me remind you this is all happening in the parking lot of Target with actual humans around us while I'm screaming my head off. I start throwing things out of my purse looking for the wrapper thing it came in. "OH THANK BABY JESUS. It's a mouth pill." We both laughed about it, said goodbye and parted ways.
And that's the time I was 200% convinced I ate a vaginal suppository.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
THESE......Are The Days Of Our Lives
I can't tell you how many times someone has come up to me and said, "You guys need your own reality show" but if I had to guess, probably 7. I'm like yeah, cool, definitely but then I take a look at my life and realize the only reality show I have a chance of being on would be Intervention. Or Hoarders. Or anything they air at 4 in the morning on TruTV but less tow trucks.
I would demand it be a full on reality show too. No producers butting in trying to get ratings, we wouldn't need them. I mean look at all the stuff I blog about, that's all the crap I don't mind sharing on the Internet. People I know in real life read this shit. Now imagine all the other stuff that goes on that I'm either too mortified or not allowed to blog about. Oh yeah, that's money. I mean we might have a few uneventful days but when something goes down, it goes down for real. I'm not even trying to sound like a badass, in fact most of the time I am busy covering up the chaos. My entire life is just a distraction to keep society from finding out what a bunch of eff-up people we are. I mean, we are cool as shit but sometimes things get a little crazy so we offset it with a lot of crazy. Because, you know, logic. I'm fairly certain we ruin at least one outsiders life per year.
Someday I'll write a memoir and never be able to to show my face in public again.Well, I might be able to, if I move to like a remote village in the Amazon or something. That or no one would believe me and it would end up some reverse James Frey "A Million Little Pieces" fiasco where it's published as fiction, everyone thinks it's great but then they find out it's actually a memoir but instead of feeling lied to, they just feel really awful and filthy inside. Which is fine with me, my main goal in life is to make people feel awful and filthy so I'd call that mission accomplished.
Lately our lives have been less entertaining reality show and more Maury with sporadic injections of those weird Japanese game show segments or whatever the hell Wayne Brady does for a living. Something with costumes and very sad clowns. I can't lie, it's very mentally exhausting and hard to keep up on. You have to remember who you're currently pissed at and why. Eventually enough time passes where you just end up forgetting and you start talking to them then someone will bring up a something that happened two months and you think, 'Oh yeah...HEY! Screw you!" and threaten to shave off their eyebrows or just keep asking them, "So....how was your orange juice?" Or "Hmm..it would be a shame if you were to be pulled over...considered what's currently in your car...."
I have seriously considered, one time, this morning, while pooping, that I should just start video taping us. Just to see what happens. I could throw it on YouTube, sit back and wait for the trolls to roll in and start talking shit. Then our new reality show would be the fat ugly love child of Catfish and Squidbillies. We would all wear shirts with cut off sleeves and track down the assholes who wrote I was a ratchet bitch that needs a tan. So basically Dog the Bounty Hunter....which after the initial dry heaving I just had thinking about that show, I'm alright with that.
Stay tuned you adorable little flying fish, this might actually happen.... and yo,TruTV, hit me up.
I would demand it be a full on reality show too. No producers butting in trying to get ratings, we wouldn't need them. I mean look at all the stuff I blog about, that's all the crap I don't mind sharing on the Internet. People I know in real life read this shit. Now imagine all the other stuff that goes on that I'm either too mortified or not allowed to blog about. Oh yeah, that's money. I mean we might have a few uneventful days but when something goes down, it goes down for real. I'm not even trying to sound like a badass, in fact most of the time I am busy covering up the chaos. My entire life is just a distraction to keep society from finding out what a bunch of eff-up people we are. I mean, we are cool as shit but sometimes things get a little crazy so we offset it with a lot of crazy. Because, you know, logic. I'm fairly certain we ruin at least one outsiders life per year.
Someday I'll write a memoir and never be able to to show my face in public again.Well, I might be able to, if I move to like a remote village in the Amazon or something. That or no one would believe me and it would end up some reverse James Frey "A Million Little Pieces" fiasco where it's published as fiction, everyone thinks it's great but then they find out it's actually a memoir but instead of feeling lied to, they just feel really awful and filthy inside. Which is fine with me, my main goal in life is to make people feel awful and filthy so I'd call that mission accomplished.
Lately our lives have been less entertaining reality show and more Maury with sporadic injections of those weird Japanese game show segments or whatever the hell Wayne Brady does for a living. Something with costumes and very sad clowns. I can't lie, it's very mentally exhausting and hard to keep up on. You have to remember who you're currently pissed at and why. Eventually enough time passes where you just end up forgetting and you start talking to them then someone will bring up a something that happened two months and you think, 'Oh yeah...HEY! Screw you!" and threaten to shave off their eyebrows or just keep asking them, "So....how was your orange juice?" Or "Hmm..it would be a shame if you were to be pulled over...considered what's currently in your car...."
I have seriously considered, one time, this morning, while pooping, that I should just start video taping us. Just to see what happens. I could throw it on YouTube, sit back and wait for the trolls to roll in and start talking shit. Then our new reality show would be the fat ugly love child of Catfish and Squidbillies. We would all wear shirts with cut off sleeves and track down the assholes who wrote I was a ratchet bitch that needs a tan. So basically Dog the Bounty Hunter....which after the initial dry heaving I just had thinking about that show, I'm alright with that.
Stay tuned you adorable little flying fish, this might actually happen.... and yo,TruTV, hit me up.
Monday, June 20, 2016
Ch-ch-ch-changes
I guess now that it has been made "Facebook official" by husband, it's time to let people know what is going on in our lives. After 11 years, and many, many changes on both our sides we have decided to get a divorce. Yes, there are obviously a lot of emotions but overall it is the best decision. I've had many people comment "But you guys seemed so good together!" True, we did have a million awesome times together but personally for myself there were things missing that I needed in our marriage that I wasn't able to get from him. Our closest friends will tell you, both of us are amazing people but just because amazing people are together doesn't always make it work. This isn't something that was rushed into, there have been feelings of incompleteness on my part for awhile and I'd been quietly mourning the lost of a marriage on my own for quite some time. We talked about it several times and we tried, we really did, but things never lined up the way they needed to. Everyday I would wake up hoping I would feel differently, that he would fill that hole I needed filled (not in a perverted way), that it was just my disorder screwing with me but I soon realized that wasn't it.
Towards the end, I wasn't giving him enough respect, I stopped trying and I didn't want there to be so much animosity between us that things would get ugly. I don't want to hate anyone and I don't want anyone hating me, especially someone I spent such an enormous part of my life growing with. There is no love lost in this separation. I have no regrets and I am incredibly grateful for Rob and what he has given me and helped me become over the years. I was with him since 18 years old, he is 85% responsible for the 29 year old woman I have become. He has been a determining factor in the person I have grown to be, especially the awesome parts.
I've seen couples who you can tell should have been divorced a long time ago but are still together, I don't feel it's fair for either person to go through that when they could have moved on and continued their lives. I've also seen terrible divorces full of hatred, selfishness and jealousy and didn't want any ill feelings to come between us, though I would never fault him if he did feel some of that towards me. It's just a shit situation. Of course we are hurting and sad but for the sake of us both, I believe it was the right decision.
Speaking of changes, besides the obvious emotional stuff and growing as individuals, there is a more literal sense to the word. I've been extremely lucky in the last few years to never want for anything, ever. Due to our separation, pending divorce and trying to pay off some mutual bills to make everything go more smoothly, my lifestyle is taking a major hit in the way of finances. I'm slowly getting used to the idea of transitioning from two incomes to just one and I haven't quite gotten the hang of it. I was maniac this weekend and spent too much money on dumb shit but at least I have a tennis racket, two fishing nets, jeggings, shorts, a couple new shirts, sunglasses and some other stuff (but not new boat shoes, my brother cut me off before I could buy them) Not just that but I only know how to show my love by buying things for people and it is seriously a terrible habit. I also can't say no because I feel like people might hate me or think I don't care about them if I can't give them what they want. I do draw lines but it's super hard for me. Back to my point, today I had an eye-opening experience. I was buying a pop at work and looking for change in my purse, not just change, I had to use pennies. If you know me, I have this super weird thing about touching change that is mixed all together but especially if pennies are involved, I hate it. I absolutely hate it, so much so I usually just throw the pennies out, in the garbage. I know it's totally #basicbitchproblems and I'm sure people will reading this and be disgusted but it's the truth. Even I know it's completely ridiculous so don't feel bad hating on me at all. They are just weird and gross and it makes my almost sick handling them. I have a lot of weird quirks, I'm not proud.
Overall, there are a lot of emotions. I can't say there isn't. When you are with someone that long, changes happen and it can really fuck up your plans. Luckily the universe knows what it's doing and you can rely on the fact that you will eventually end up where you are supposed to be. At least that's what I am doing.
Towards the end, I wasn't giving him enough respect, I stopped trying and I didn't want there to be so much animosity between us that things would get ugly. I don't want to hate anyone and I don't want anyone hating me, especially someone I spent such an enormous part of my life growing with. There is no love lost in this separation. I have no regrets and I am incredibly grateful for Rob and what he has given me and helped me become over the years. I was with him since 18 years old, he is 85% responsible for the 29 year old woman I have become. He has been a determining factor in the person I have grown to be, especially the awesome parts.
I've seen couples who you can tell should have been divorced a long time ago but are still together, I don't feel it's fair for either person to go through that when they could have moved on and continued their lives. I've also seen terrible divorces full of hatred, selfishness and jealousy and didn't want any ill feelings to come between us, though I would never fault him if he did feel some of that towards me. It's just a shit situation. Of course we are hurting and sad but for the sake of us both, I believe it was the right decision.
Speaking of changes, besides the obvious emotional stuff and growing as individuals, there is a more literal sense to the word. I've been extremely lucky in the last few years to never want for anything, ever. Due to our separation, pending divorce and trying to pay off some mutual bills to make everything go more smoothly, my lifestyle is taking a major hit in the way of finances. I'm slowly getting used to the idea of transitioning from two incomes to just one and I haven't quite gotten the hang of it. I was maniac this weekend and spent too much money on dumb shit but at least I have a tennis racket, two fishing nets, jeggings, shorts, a couple new shirts, sunglasses and some other stuff (but not new boat shoes, my brother cut me off before I could buy them) Not just that but I only know how to show my love by buying things for people and it is seriously a terrible habit. I also can't say no because I feel like people might hate me or think I don't care about them if I can't give them what they want. I do draw lines but it's super hard for me. Back to my point, today I had an eye-opening experience. I was buying a pop at work and looking for change in my purse, not just change, I had to use pennies. If you know me, I have this super weird thing about touching change that is mixed all together but especially if pennies are involved, I hate it. I absolutely hate it, so much so I usually just throw the pennies out, in the garbage. I know it's totally #basicbitchproblems and I'm sure people will reading this and be disgusted but it's the truth. Even I know it's completely ridiculous so don't feel bad hating on me at all. They are just weird and gross and it makes my almost sick handling them. I have a lot of weird quirks, I'm not proud.
Overall, there are a lot of emotions. I can't say there isn't. When you are with someone that long, changes happen and it can really fuck up your plans. Luckily the universe knows what it's doing and you can rely on the fact that you will eventually end up where you are supposed to be. At least that's what I am doing.
Saturday, May 28, 2016
Insignificant yet life altering traumas: The Lesbian Years
Growing up, my parents both seemed a little worried about my lack of dating. This plus the fact that I was a tomboy, didn't really do my hair or makeup and fit the "stereotype" apparently led them to only one possible conclusion. I must love vagina.
If you recall or maybe I've never mentioned it, my parents were divorced and by divorced I mean loathed each other with the fire of one thousand suns. Honestly, I don't remember them being married, all my memories are visitation arguments and crap, but holy hell. Like I don't know what the fuck happened that made them get a divorce but whatever it was, it had to have been some catastrophic event to make two people harbor so much hate for each other. It's almost fascinating! I'm sure each of them have their own story, frankly I give zero shits about either side BUT I do want to say if it was "He was crazy!" or "She was unstable!" I will have to take offense because I am actually crazy and unstable and I still can't imagine doing anything so bad to be on the receiving end of what I witnessed. I think they mostly just blamed each other for shit that, in all sincerity, probably didn't fucking matter at all in the scope of life but they were both so dedicated to hating each other it didn't matter the topic. It was out of this world. I'm not saying they are why I am so messed up but I'm not denying it contributed in one way or another. Ask all of my three therapists....they'll tell you what's up.
Anyways that entire paragraph was just to explain that my parents did not communicate about anything for any reason. This is important to know because that means they both came to the verdict of my lesbianism very, very separately. And when I was approached by each of them, the conversation also differed greatly.
Father: I remember he had a couple of friends over and they were sitting on the back deck having a couple drinks. Though any type of socialization with "those kind of people" was pretty much excruciating for me, for some reason I went out near them. By "those kind of people" I obviously mean the upper middle class who censor themselves in public, talk shit about people even though they are 40-some years old and have probably never worn sweatpants to Aldi before, even though everyone knows Aldi's produce is always on point. Anyways, they were probably drinking wine or craft beer back when Sam Adams was the "craft beer". It was unusual because my father had been drinking and was slightly intoxicated which was out of the ordinary for him, usually he would drink one or two but I never remember him drinking to excess at all. Regardless, I went outside, I was at the table and he says something like, "Blah blah blah, you better not be a lesbian" or some shit like that. The only reason that it stuck with me so long is because A. It was in front of some other people and they laughed about it so I felt really embarrassed and B. I put it on my "Stuff that will disappoint your father" brain list. I probably could have busted out the fact I jumped into bed with my camp boyfriend and this happened. All on his dime, by the way, but I was too traumatized to do anything but walk back inside
Mother: We were driving in the car, she asked about if I ever talked to any boys or something. I just shrugged and she said, "Well are you a lesbian?" and I said, "No." and she said "Ooook. Well if you are.... that's fine...you can tell me." *wink wink, nudge nudge*
There were also a lot of people in school who apparently thought I was a lesbian. During my graduation ceremony, two girls were talking a bunch of shit about me and called me a "fucking dyke" for cheering for my best friend. It was pretty cool of them to get that last shot in, they were class acts. Just for the record, my life isn't perfect but their lives seem waayyyy shittier than mine so they can go fuck right off. Dumb bitches.
Anyways, if being a lesbian were a choice, I feel like if I wanted to choose that path, I wouldn't have just because of all the shit I went through. And it makes me feel really horrible for any individual who actually is gay and has to deal with this shit. I'm not gay, that I know of, and it was terrible for me. I can only imagine how it would feel to be personally attacked and made to feel shame for just being who the fuck you were when you were born. It just goes to show you how amazingly strong some people are, I admire the shit out of that.
If you recall or maybe I've never mentioned it, my parents were divorced and by divorced I mean loathed each other with the fire of one thousand suns. Honestly, I don't remember them being married, all my memories are visitation arguments and crap, but holy hell. Like I don't know what the fuck happened that made them get a divorce but whatever it was, it had to have been some catastrophic event to make two people harbor so much hate for each other. It's almost fascinating! I'm sure each of them have their own story, frankly I give zero shits about either side BUT I do want to say if it was "He was crazy!" or "She was unstable!" I will have to take offense because I am actually crazy and unstable and I still can't imagine doing anything so bad to be on the receiving end of what I witnessed. I think they mostly just blamed each other for shit that, in all sincerity, probably didn't fucking matter at all in the scope of life but they were both so dedicated to hating each other it didn't matter the topic. It was out of this world. I'm not saying they are why I am so messed up but I'm not denying it contributed in one way or another. Ask all of my three therapists....they'll tell you what's up.
Anyways that entire paragraph was just to explain that my parents did not communicate about anything for any reason. This is important to know because that means they both came to the verdict of my lesbianism very, very separately. And when I was approached by each of them, the conversation also differed greatly.
Father: I remember he had a couple of friends over and they were sitting on the back deck having a couple drinks. Though any type of socialization with "those kind of people" was pretty much excruciating for me, for some reason I went out near them. By "those kind of people" I obviously mean the upper middle class who censor themselves in public, talk shit about people even though they are 40-some years old and have probably never worn sweatpants to Aldi before, even though everyone knows Aldi's produce is always on point. Anyways, they were probably drinking wine or craft beer back when Sam Adams was the "craft beer". It was unusual because my father had been drinking and was slightly intoxicated which was out of the ordinary for him, usually he would drink one or two but I never remember him drinking to excess at all. Regardless, I went outside, I was at the table and he says something like, "Blah blah blah, you better not be a lesbian" or some shit like that. The only reason that it stuck with me so long is because A. It was in front of some other people and they laughed about it so I felt really embarrassed and B. I put it on my "Stuff that will disappoint your father" brain list. I probably could have busted out the fact I jumped into bed with my camp boyfriend and this happened. All on his dime, by the way, but I was too traumatized to do anything but walk back inside
Mother: We were driving in the car, she asked about if I ever talked to any boys or something. I just shrugged and she said, "Well are you a lesbian?" and I said, "No." and she said "Ooook. Well if you are.... that's fine...you can tell me." *wink wink, nudge nudge*
There were also a lot of people in school who apparently thought I was a lesbian. During my graduation ceremony, two girls were talking a bunch of shit about me and called me a "fucking dyke" for cheering for my best friend. It was pretty cool of them to get that last shot in, they were class acts. Just for the record, my life isn't perfect but their lives seem waayyyy shittier than mine so they can go fuck right off. Dumb bitches.
Anyways, if being a lesbian were a choice, I feel like if I wanted to choose that path, I wouldn't have just because of all the shit I went through. And it makes me feel really horrible for any individual who actually is gay and has to deal with this shit. I'm not gay, that I know of, and it was terrible for me. I can only imagine how it would feel to be personally attacked and made to feel shame for just being who the fuck you were when you were born. It just goes to show you how amazingly strong some people are, I admire the shit out of that.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Psychoanalyzationatorism
First of all, I feel like one of you mother fuckers have just been clicking my links a lot to make me feel good. It's hard for me to believe 90 people read my last blog post. Or I'm getting good at making all my titles click bait. Anyways.....
Anyone who knows me will tell you I've always been interested in psychology. Unless I never told them, as you can tell by the way I write my blog I am an extremely private person... Well lately my love for psychology and my extraordinary amount of therapy has combined into one super annoying hairball of psychoanalyzing. When I used to get into arguments, I would go off on some ridiculous tangent, wave my arms around and yell a lot about random government officials trying to rule my uterus and how I have faced persecution my entire life from the Free Masons or some shit. That has drastically changed to the other end of the spectrum, for the most part. I still get loud and talk with my hands like a stereotyped cartoon of a pissed off Italian but instead of ridiculous conspiracies, I use my psycho-knowledge to just tell everyone how the *actual* feel about things.
It's seriously a whole lot of, "Listen, I know you're mad right now and I understand why you would feel that way. But I have a pretty good feeling that all this anger you're projecting is just how you channel your feelings. I think it would really help if you try and be mindful of the real emotion behind that anger, which is hurt. It's ok to feel hurt! You were raised being told you had to be tough and not cry but that's not the case at all! If you allow yourself to feel that hurt and really try to understand where that hurt is coming from, you will be able to recognize that it doesn't have to define you. You are not weak for feeling hurt, you are only human. And that's just fine!"
Followed by a blank stare and, "BITCH! I AM MAD! I'M MAD AS HELL. YOU ATE ALL MY ICE CREAM SAMMICHS AND DIDN'T BOTHER TO SAY ANYTHING. WE WERE LITERALLY JUST AT THE STORE! NOT ONLY THAT BUT WHEN WE WERE IN THE STORE I SPECIFICALLY SAID TO YOU, 'DAMN.. I CAN'T WAIT TO GO HOME AND EAT AN ICE CREAM SAMMICH.' AND YOU DIDN'T THINK ONCE TO MENTION THAT YOU ATE THEM ALL?!"
To which I respond, "Hmmm...I think I know what's going on here. In this scenario, the ice cream bar is your mother and you are seeing me as your father, taking away the one who provides for you. The ice cream is significant here as it represents the breast milk that you suckled from your mother's teat. This seem like a very clear example of how the Oedipus complex develops in childhood and permeates throughout ones life! Fascinating! Don't you find that fascinating?!"
To which they reply, "Fuck you, you're a fucking monster...."
So yeah, I'm basically a psychologist now. If you ever want to talk about your feelings, let me know and I can tell you what's actually going on in that amazingly beautiful brain of yours.
Anyone who knows me will tell you I've always been interested in psychology. Unless I never told them, as you can tell by the way I write my blog I am an extremely private person... Well lately my love for psychology and my extraordinary amount of therapy has combined into one super annoying hairball of psychoanalyzing. When I used to get into arguments, I would go off on some ridiculous tangent, wave my arms around and yell a lot about random government officials trying to rule my uterus and how I have faced persecution my entire life from the Free Masons or some shit. That has drastically changed to the other end of the spectrum, for the most part. I still get loud and talk with my hands like a stereotyped cartoon of a pissed off Italian but instead of ridiculous conspiracies, I use my psycho-knowledge to just tell everyone how the *actual* feel about things.
It's seriously a whole lot of, "Listen, I know you're mad right now and I understand why you would feel that way. But I have a pretty good feeling that all this anger you're projecting is just how you channel your feelings. I think it would really help if you try and be mindful of the real emotion behind that anger, which is hurt. It's ok to feel hurt! You were raised being told you had to be tough and not cry but that's not the case at all! If you allow yourself to feel that hurt and really try to understand where that hurt is coming from, you will be able to recognize that it doesn't have to define you. You are not weak for feeling hurt, you are only human. And that's just fine!"
Followed by a blank stare and, "BITCH! I AM MAD! I'M MAD AS HELL. YOU ATE ALL MY ICE CREAM SAMMICHS AND DIDN'T BOTHER TO SAY ANYTHING. WE WERE LITERALLY JUST AT THE STORE! NOT ONLY THAT BUT WHEN WE WERE IN THE STORE I SPECIFICALLY SAID TO YOU, 'DAMN.. I CAN'T WAIT TO GO HOME AND EAT AN ICE CREAM SAMMICH.' AND YOU DIDN'T THINK ONCE TO MENTION THAT YOU ATE THEM ALL?!"
To which I respond, "Hmmm...I think I know what's going on here. In this scenario, the ice cream bar is your mother and you are seeing me as your father, taking away the one who provides for you. The ice cream is significant here as it represents the breast milk that you suckled from your mother's teat. This seem like a very clear example of how the Oedipus complex develops in childhood and permeates throughout ones life! Fascinating! Don't you find that fascinating?!"
To which they reply, "Fuck you, you're a fucking monster...."
So yeah, I'm basically a psychologist now. If you ever want to talk about your feelings, let me know and I can tell you what's actually going on in that amazingly beautiful brain of yours.
Monday, May 16, 2016
The Timing Method
The weather was finally nice enough over the weekend that we could do outdoorsy shit. I had planned on just hanging out on the deck writing all day but after a grueling 7 block walk/jog over to my sister's and a snapchat convo with my bestie, we decided to go on a bike ride for an hour or so. Our booming small city has recently added a bunch of paved bike trails so I loaded up my bike, my niece and her bike and headed out to meet my friend and her daughter. We ended up taking this nice trail which heads out of town towards a park. It does this little detour so for a good chunk of it, you are actually riding out in the country. It was freaking amazing. Growing up on an acreage makes me instantly homesick when I get out surrounded by fields and the quietness of it all. Unfortunately, we had to move into town when I was in about 6th grade and eventually ended up selling our childhood home in the country. I was completely devastated but the house had gone to shit and none of us had the money to put into in and move back. The people who bought it basically bought it for the land, tore down the 2 bedroom underground house that held so many good memories and the out buildings to build a monstrosity of a McMansion on the 4 acres. It fucking killed me.
Back to the bike ride, it was great. I felt so at home and peaceful which considering my life, is a pretty big feat. After the 5 mile or so ride those good feelings stayed with me until I came home and realized that nothing had changed. In fact, for the hour we were gone shit went a little awry. My sister had somehow jammed the wrong key into our back door, making it impossible to open. We had to take the whole thing off and go get a new handle. It really wasn't a big thing because we have the means to go out and buy a new lever but not really something I had expected to deal with.. After that things went alright then I started getting some text messages in regards to some personal shit I am handling poorly at the moment. Once again, not a big deal, just another thing that I am trying to figure out on my own that from the outside looks very different from the inside. Or maybe my perspective is just skewed and biased since it involves me.
I guess besides the fact that leaving for any amount of time doesn't mean when you return all the problems in your life will be magically solved, there is also a lesson here about timing. At the time my mom decided she was going to sell our house and land, she didn't really have a choice and we didn't have the money to fix it. At the time that our door handle got all jacked up, we did have the money to fix it. Yes, there is a significant difference here but the fact remains that overall, timing is important. I feel like everyone misses opportunities because of poor timing. We miss important events, chances to do amazing things or see the people we love. We get in accidents, we have accidents, things break that we can't fix at the moment. We overcook our steaks and we under cook our chicken, we eat at restaurants the day before they announce a listeria outbreak in their lettuce.
Other times when the opportunity is there, we are too caught up in other shit or too afraid to take any chances *ahem Second City*. We create excuses and put it off but, and watch this magically fucking tie in right here, YOU STILL HAVE TO EVENTUALLY DEAL WITH IT. Say your basement decides to let in a bunch of water one spring, you clean it up, a couple months go by and you think "Hey! We haven't had any problems and I really don't feel like throwing a bunch of money and work towards it this summer so eh, I'll deal with it later. So you put it off and guess what happens the next spring...fucking basement water. You clean it up and start the whole process again and again until finally one day you notice that it's starting to smell a little and the baseboard look a little jacked up so you decide to investigate and TA-DAH! You now have mold in your walls. What?! But how?! I've only been letting my basement flood every freaking spring since I moved here 5 years ago, how could this happen?!
That's life. You put shit off because of bad timing, whether real or imaginary, and then wonder a few years down the line, when the problems get too big to ignore, how it got to that point. Maybe if we all spent a little more time looking at the reality of the situation and try to rectify it a little earlier, our lives would be a whole hell of a lot easier. But we won't. Because it's too hard or there is too much involved. So we end up chalking up the missed opportunities as something we had no control over while people judge us for not doing enough or trying hard enough when our basements flooded the first time while standing in their own basement, knee deep in water
I guess what I'm trying to convey is everyone is the same. We all put things off for another day secretly hoping it never comes because keeping things the same is easy and seems less stressful that way (hint: it's not). So let's all just keep playing in our moldy basements, breathing in those spores while pretending that it's not slowly killing us.
Yes, I AM in a great mood. Thanks for asking.
Back to the bike ride, it was great. I felt so at home and peaceful which considering my life, is a pretty big feat. After the 5 mile or so ride those good feelings stayed with me until I came home and realized that nothing had changed. In fact, for the hour we were gone shit went a little awry. My sister had somehow jammed the wrong key into our back door, making it impossible to open. We had to take the whole thing off and go get a new handle. It really wasn't a big thing because we have the means to go out and buy a new lever but not really something I had expected to deal with.. After that things went alright then I started getting some text messages in regards to some personal shit I am handling poorly at the moment. Once again, not a big deal, just another thing that I am trying to figure out on my own that from the outside looks very different from the inside. Or maybe my perspective is just skewed and biased since it involves me.
I guess besides the fact that leaving for any amount of time doesn't mean when you return all the problems in your life will be magically solved, there is also a lesson here about timing. At the time my mom decided she was going to sell our house and land, she didn't really have a choice and we didn't have the money to fix it. At the time that our door handle got all jacked up, we did have the money to fix it. Yes, there is a significant difference here but the fact remains that overall, timing is important. I feel like everyone misses opportunities because of poor timing. We miss important events, chances to do amazing things or see the people we love. We get in accidents, we have accidents, things break that we can't fix at the moment. We overcook our steaks and we under cook our chicken, we eat at restaurants the day before they announce a listeria outbreak in their lettuce.
Other times when the opportunity is there, we are too caught up in other shit or too afraid to take any chances *ahem Second City*. We create excuses and put it off but, and watch this magically fucking tie in right here, YOU STILL HAVE TO EVENTUALLY DEAL WITH IT. Say your basement decides to let in a bunch of water one spring, you clean it up, a couple months go by and you think "Hey! We haven't had any problems and I really don't feel like throwing a bunch of money and work towards it this summer so eh, I'll deal with it later. So you put it off and guess what happens the next spring...fucking basement water. You clean it up and start the whole process again and again until finally one day you notice that it's starting to smell a little and the baseboard look a little jacked up so you decide to investigate and TA-DAH! You now have mold in your walls. What?! But how?! I've only been letting my basement flood every freaking spring since I moved here 5 years ago, how could this happen?!
That's life. You put shit off because of bad timing, whether real or imaginary, and then wonder a few years down the line, when the problems get too big to ignore, how it got to that point. Maybe if we all spent a little more time looking at the reality of the situation and try to rectify it a little earlier, our lives would be a whole hell of a lot easier. But we won't. Because it's too hard or there is too much involved. So we end up chalking up the missed opportunities as something we had no control over while people judge us for not doing enough or trying hard enough when our basements flooded the first time while standing in their own basement, knee deep in water
I guess what I'm trying to convey is everyone is the same. We all put things off for another day secretly hoping it never comes because keeping things the same is easy and seems less stressful that way (hint: it's not). So let's all just keep playing in our moldy basements, breathing in those spores while pretending that it's not slowly killing us.
Yes, I AM in a great mood. Thanks for asking.
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