With Desired Effects…

this weekend was legendary.  friday’s work was hard and annoying- mice turds, scummy tubs and christmas tree removal.  fears of last weekend’s blowout still ringing through my brain.  not one to be dissolved into misery, not anymore at least, i pasted a waxy smile to my face and reminded myself how short life is, and cautiously stepped into Friday Night.

when your partner of ten years takes mood altering medication, you never know what face you will see at the end of the day.  one weekend smiles.  next weekend you are homeless.  one weekend is hot and heavy, sex, sex, sex.  the next weekend you are face down on the floor, sobbing.  with the uncertainty of days of wine and song, or nights of hyperventilating sobs, weekends can be a scary place, and have lost most of the glittery dancing, cocktail clubbing,  Thank God It’s Friday-ing times i used to live for.  so it was with supreme eggshell-walking i planned on not planning out how my weekend would go and with trepidation i watched the clock.  i crafted.  i cleaned.  i failed at crochet again.  i wrote.  i read.  i texted.  i went to the gym.  i ate.  i filled time.  i was.  i sat.  i thought.  i worried.  i chewed my nails.  i picked my cuticles.  i texted.  i snacked.  i ate mindlessly.  i worried some more.  i panicked.  i flipped out.  i cancelled plans with friends.  i texted.  i pretended.  i faked that nothing was wrong.  i stared out the window until 2 AM when i saw his car pull up.  i froze.

clumpy snowy steel toed boots walked in.  boots came off.  wooly-socked little feet.  a “hey baby, how are you?” and a kiss.  i smiled, cautiously.  the weekend had officially begun.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/03/daily-prompt-copies/

Quandry


i am starting to have doubts about being a writer.
the other day i blogged about ideas that i had, that never got published because of my lack of confidence.
i know that nothing is original and every possible topic on every possible subject has been covered in every possible way- but it still messes with your self esteem as a writer. it makes you wonder why you write. it makes you doubt that you can ever be successful. i’ve had pep talks from friends and motivating chats with other authors, and ironically read blogs on that subject. they all said about the same thing; that there are different types of success. that you don’t need to be Stephen King or a Jk Rowland to be successful, that art is just as important, keeping your integrity and blah blah blah. none of that helped shoo away my doubts.

the idea was still knocking around my brain this morning as i was perusing Facebook and i saw one of those ecard-y type dealies with one a line from one of the memoirs i read at an open mic nite a few years ago. coincidence? possibly. probably. maybe. i dunno. but it was eye opening and even made me a little queasy.

it’s not as if i need millions of dollars, or to turn out a five book series to feel successful, i just am very afraid of producing something that looks as if it is copied or plagiarized. again, i’m not trying to reinvent the writin’ wheel, i just hate copycat-ism. i just really hate the idea of it looking like i’m jumping on the young adult or mommyporn bandwagons even if it just might be considered a ‘trend’.

i know that writers and artists have been struggling with this subject forever and i certainly won’t be the one to solve it, but it’s a thought i have ever single time i sit down to write.

in a society and world that blogging is more popular than ever and social media is as integral to most people’s day as breakfast, is one more blog necessary? how many more tweets or Twilight knockoffs before people don’t even pay attention anymore? what are your thoughts on this, kiddos?

A Quirk-ful Life

I have A LOT of bad habits. most are fairly harmless. BUT. i am not willing to admit them here or now. or ever. at least publicly. i masturbate at least once or twice a day, but i’m not ashamed of that in the least. i don’t even feel slightly guilty about it. i’ll just say that i chew my nails, that i leave the water running when i brush my teeth, and usually forget to use coupons and leave it at that.

what? you say i’m a procrastinator? that i make list after list and never finish it all? i have several books in the works and am too afraid of failure to finish them? ok. so you got me. so what? i admitted to chronic, daily masturbation- isn’t that enough? or i do need to also admit that i rarely follow through on anything? that i rarely vacuum out my car? am i supposed to talk about my swearing? about my negative nelly/cynical jaded bitch attitude? well, i won’t.

i love bloody gory movies, and don’t work out enough. i love carbs and when i actually get the chance to read- i enjoy young adult fiction. i don’t wear my seatbelt all of the time, and i’m a bit of a boozy partygirl, despite being a mother. i get dandruff and would prefer to wear pajamas constantly if it was socially acceptable. i just TODAY found out what macarons actually were. i don’t recycle as much as i could. i am extremely carnivorous. i DESPISE romantic comedies. i don’t consider myself a feminist and love when boys do stuff for me. i hate my dogs sometimes and don’t vacuum steps. i hate breakfast and red velvet anything. i’m judgey and hate most people. i am often late.

i am flawed. i admit it. hell, i didn’t even shower today and i was at the mall. BUT. i did take down and put away the christmas tree and visited a good friend. i probably said ‘the f word’ as many times as i checked facebook and ate too much junk food. but that’s who i am. and i like myself a lot- even if I’m not guilty for walking around the mall unshowered.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/12/daily-prompt-quirky/

Fat On the Outside

Talk about a time when i experienced being on the outside looking in?
that’s simple. every single time i go to the fucking gym. no joke. i’m not trying to be dramatic or cliche, either. it’s just that every time i take my fat to the gym, i become an outsider.

i go to a franchise gym where the slogan is that it’s a ‘JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE’- which is fine and dandy, but when i walk in, in my sweatpants, raggedy hoodie and non-designer sneakers, i get instantly judged, and might as well be put in a caged area for not being a natural born gym goer. to start, i am more than 100 pounds overweight, and although i don’t “LOOK” obese, by medical standards i am. interestingly, i am in better shape than a lot of my skinny friends, and actually can hold my own with a lot of exercise but i definitely don’t look good doing it. now, i know that no one really looks good sweating and getting all red in the face, but, most girls that i see at the gym wear more makeup than i did for my wedding. i’ve seen false eyelashes and glitter, even those glue on crystals– ON A TUESDAY NIGHT in winter. no, i’m not trying to compete, and NO, i’m not trying to pick up a date, i’m trying to drop a few tons, but i absolutely hate feeling like it’s Gym Class in high school- where the fat kids will ALWAYS be picked on, and never fit in.

people stare at me like they are worried that i’m going to have a heart attack, or pitied because my fat is flopping around. i know people will deny it, or ultimately say, “who cares? fuck em!” and all of that, but the truth is, it is a completely uncomfortable situation- from the moment i walk in, until i walk out. i am uncomfortable getting on machines and i am uncomfortable about getting off of them. i am nervous to use the weights and self conscious about using the other equipment. i rarely push myself, because i don’t like the looks i get; some that simply say, “gross” and “why are you bothering?’ and others are thinking “god, if i ever look like that, shoot me.”

and this doesn’t just happen at the gym, it’s just very obvious there. it happens everywhere. being ‘FIT’ or ‘IN SHAPE’ is as much a clique as being popular in high school. when i’m walking around the trails at the park, or roller skating, summers of softball, i feel excluded and not a part of what others are doing. Even the other day at the ski resort, i didn’t dare ski, because i hate not being able to fit in with people that are flexible and stronger, or even have better gear (i wore jeans, hoodie and some boots that i got from the thrift store that are in desperate need of another coating of waterproofing spray). i’m slower, less coordinated and not as resilient as everyone else, so it’s easier just sitting out and watching. it really sucks. the worst part is that my brain doesn’t understand that it can’t always do the same things that the thinner people, which makes things worse because i want to be out there skating and skiing, and even trying that scary cage-y bar lift-y machine.

i keep going to the gym and trying to be as active as i can, with the hope that i won’t be so big someday, won’t be so clumsy and ungainly and eventually won’t feel like i’m on the outside anymore. i know that there’ll always be the gym elite, the pretty ones, that wear expensive designer breast cancer-awareness pink sports bras, yoga pants that they bought from a speciality store online, and shoes made just for going to the gym that cost as much as my car. i’m not trying to compete, i’m really not, but, someday i would like to not feel excluded from something that most people take for granted.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/09/daily-prompt-outside-2/

Who Can It Be Now?

If i had the choice to be ANYONE in the world- living or dead?   *thinks*  I’m surprising even myself by saying that i’d choose being me- no matter what. and although my life has been one fucked up hotmess after the next, i still wouldn’t ever change being good ol’ *Miss Tee*, if for no other reason than i’m a tenacious motherfucker and i really would like to see how my epic tale ends.

however, having chosen myself, if i had ‘it’ to do all over, i would like to make the following changes-

  1. lose all of this weight.  or at least, have the knowledge and forethought as a younger version of me to NEVER have gained this mass of mess to begin with.
  2. not listen to my parents as much as i did.  being a kid/teen/young adult, i foolishly believed that my parents always were always most concerned with my well being.  i figured that since they were adults, and were responsible for me, that they knew best, and would never do anything that wasn’t for my ‘own good’.  but now, having been a parent for nineteen years and with some actual life experience, i see just how fucked up my parents were.  hindsight is truly 20/20, and my therapy sessions would double if i dwelled on all of the mistakes my parents dragged me through, not to mention most of it wasn’t even ‘best intentions’-type of stuff.  adults make mistakes. and parents are adults. parental word is NOT god.  i know this NOW.
  3. make better choices.  including but not limited to- not falling in love so quickly, learning to be on my own and more independent in general, and learning more LIFE SKILL-sy things like car maintenance and home repair.
  4. not get pressured into school right out of high school.  the biggest regret of my entire life was being forced into secondary education before i was ever ready.  i never had the choice to just float and make mistakes before i was thrust into the BIGPEOPLE WORLD, and over two decades later, i still feel like i am paying for that.  i wish i had the chance to experience life a lot more before being thrust into adulthood at age seventeen.  i learned how to live paycheck to paycheck, and how to live off of credit cards, only to have to get money from my credit cards to pay my credit card bills.  i learned how to live on one meal a day, mostly on ‘discarded’ sandwiches from the cafe where i worked.  i learned how to work two jobs until i was so exhausted that i skipped class- A LOT.  i had absolutely no social life which caused so much unhappiness and resulted in more bad choices and i cared very little about moving forward in life.  worst of all, this probably resulted in my agoraphobia, panic anxiety disorder and yes, a lot of my weight problems.  to top it off, i graduated very mediocrely, which obviously didn’t help me land any topnotch art jobs, except, at an art supply store, ironically called Top Notch.

i don’t like to live in the past and try not to dwell on all of the shit, but it’s hard to not get bogged down in blame or a big ol fat shame spiral when things are less than shiny- even more than twenty years later.

however, having said all of this,  i was lost in the moment as we were driving around Ocean City looking at Christmas lights the other night, and realized that i finally am living in THE PRESENT.  i no longer want to sit and try to make up for mistakes in the past, and i’m certainly not going to wait around until my life is ‘perfect’ before i start living.  it took forty years for me to get here, and with any luck, i’ll be around on earth at least forty more (*knocks on wood*), and i don’t want to waste any more time on the ‘what if’s’ or thinking i can’t do things UNTIL (*insert thing i’ll probably never get around to*).  at the bottom of it all, i’m not unhappy with who i am, i know that i still have an amazing lifetime ahead of me, and don’t want to miss a thing.

Most Horrible String of Events to Date….

-i didnt salt my eggplant enough and had that back-of-the-throat-itchy-allergic-reaction-thing
-was so hungry and angry about not wanting to waste my eggplant that i ate it all anyways- which ended with me having flu-like symptoms
-was late for work because of all of the damn construction around West View
-my ipod shit the bed. like, it died a horrible death- “red X in a circle” icon of doom and everything
-my phone decided to shit the bed and crash when i went to look for a solution to my ipod’s “red X in a circle” thing
-my laptop crashed as i was looking up how to fix my phone’s problem that was caused by my ipod
-found my spare ipod and peer pressured myself to the gym, where my spare ipod decided it didnt want to work either, so i was forced to listen to the gym’s awful “Workout Motivating Mix”—which you have to know, was horrible, you guys.
-nearly FELL THROUGH AND OVER the stationary bike that i was trying to mount. i’m really short AS WELL AS fat, so getting onto equipment made for normal humans is ALWAYS a challenge.
-was too embarrassed to adjust the seat of my stationary bike, so i rode that fucker for 25 minutes awkwardly and in pain, knees knocking the handlebars. CLASSY AND AWESOME.
-left the gym not feeling exercised, but defeated and music-less.
-EXIT TO GET ME HOME WAS BLOCKED FOR NO APPARENT REASON so i was detoured around a shady neighborhood for 25 minutes, lost as fuck.
-found my way to where i needed to be, and was met with a WALL OF TRAFFIC. NO ONE LET ME MERGE, so i became murderous.
-stuck in traffic for 50 minutes having to poop and with a scratchy EGGPLANTY throat, with NO MUSIC except “Delilah After Dark”- hit 5th STAGE OF HATE
-stuck in traffic for 50 minutes having to poop and with a scratchy EGGPLANTY throat, with NO MUSIC except “Delilah After Dark” and “LOW FUEL” light came on.
-actually considered getting out of my vehicle and pooping on side of the road.
-traffic finally started moving before i pooped on the side of the road and started flinging my feces at vehicles because i officially hit 6th STAGE OF HATE.
-got home, thankful to not have pooped my pants, run out of gas, murdered anyone, or in jail.

this all happened to me yesterday. and this horrible string of events is PRECISELY why i suffer from agoraphobia and HATE leaving my house.
i thought i’d share.
i can always look back and say- “well, today might be bad, but at least it isnt as bad as that night i actually considered pooping on the side of a busy road”.

My Listy OCD

I do something I called PLANNED SPONTANEITY which is giving myself an agenda of listed tasks and sort of just allow myself to go about it in any way that I can to get the stuff done.

I’m a planner by nature. I make lists of lists. I am an uber multi tasker. I judge myself based on what I have accomplished during a day. I judge others on their inability to multitask. And yes, I have been known on occasion to add something to the bottom of a list only to immediately cross it out. It’s a completed task, isn’t it? It counts! It does!

My OCD is boundless, hence the task of going back to complete all of the DAILY PROMPTS from when I started these blogs. Sure, I could easily walk away and just start with the one that starts tomorrow- but what about all of those OTHER prompts? Those ones that were sent and I didn’t even attempt? WHAT ABOUT THOSE????? For the love of god there are so many!!!! But I must do them all! Even if it means not going to the gym, or the GROSSery store, or to the bar with my friends!!! And what if I do? What’s the point? The whole time on the treadmill all I’ll be able to think about is the ten or so DAILY PROMPTS sitting there in my inbox, taking up virtual space! Standing there at the bar, doing shots I will be thinking of how I haven’t vacuumed the living room for the sixth time this week…. WONT SOMEONE PLEASE THINK OF THE CHILDREN????? You may think I am exaggerating, but alas, I am not. Not even a little. There I am, in the produce aisle, deciding between romaine or iceberg and trying to not acknowledge the niggle in my brain reminding me to make sure I update my ITUNES playlist and make sure I don’t have any duplicates in my music library. I am not kidding you.

You would think that this would make me super super productive. But it doesn’t. The reality is that I spend so much energy fretting about getting things done, that I waste time accomplishing very little. I say as I type up my fifth blog of the day while staring at my chipped nailpolish that I am obsessing over painting, while my wet laundry waits yet another couple of hours before going into the dryer and I completely ignore/avoid my taxes. But you know what? Tomorrow is another day. Thank god for procrastination. Thank effing god.

(cross posted from my other blog- http://tealshades.wordpress.com )