Topic Control: The Things I Did for Love

Hello, everyone. It's Monday so my topic was chosen for me. Tonight I am to discuss the things I've done for love.  Love can have many different meanings, but I'm taking the topic to imply romantic love. That's going to be what I tackle with it. After all, no one wants to read a post about me squeeing over finding books again, although that IS love. Anyway . . .

The subject reminds me of the Ishtar chapter in Neil Gaiman's Sandman: Brief Lives. While the overall theme of the graphic novel is Dream's search for Destruction, Gaiman also discusses and foreshadows a lot about the idea of mortality. He also shows what some ancient gods are doing with their time in the modern age.

Ishtar, for example,  is working as a stripper in a club called Suffragette City (heh!).  In the scene I'm talking about, she is talking with her roommate, also a stripper, as they're on their way to work. Her friend is telling her about a woman she knew who was a heroin addict. They didn't want her to shoot up in her arms because it left bruises so she started shooting up in her eye. Ishtar's reply to this is something like, "The things we do to be loved."

To me, this has always been a great analogy for how I see the lengths most people will go to for love.  They will do something dangerous, painful, scary, and harmful just to feel those fleeting moments of goodness. It's depressing and sad, horrible. And while most people would see putting a needle in their eye as objectionable and wrong, many of the other things we do for love, while just as ghastly, are considered normal and common place.

This topic was basically the theme of my mother's life.  Since I could remember, my mother's two motivating forces were AVOIDANCE OF MOTHER (as in, hers) and BE IN RELATIONSHIP WITH MAN. As you can imagine, most of the time, these two motivations clashed a lot. My mom would do just about anything she could to avoid hearing my grandmother bitch at her. She'd also do anything she could to keep a man in her life.

In fact, aside from a few blissful years, my mother always DID have a man in her life. Hell, even then, she had men in her life, they just didn't stay around. The rest of the time, she was willing to do anything to keep the man there. She was beaten, lived in poverty, worked to support the man, endured abuse, violence, allowed horrible things to happen to her children, and lost just about everything she had. And the only reason she would EVER get rid of one of her horrible men would be if some other man was already lined up to take his place.

As you can see, I didn't really have a good example of love. In fact, almost every relationship I've ever been witness to has been pretty twisted and warped. When I was younger, I was in love with someone. I was also pretty psycho about it. I'd call him all the time, I'd obsessively think about him, all that other bullshit that I'm even embarrassed to talk about now. It was just a mess and he completely wasn't worth it.

I did gain a lot of value from that.  I realized (far later in life), that if a relationship isn't bringing out good things in you, then you shouldn't be in the relationship. If you aren't happy, end it. If you find yourself crying a lot, end it. If you feel like you have to walk in eggshells all the time just to keep this person from flying off the handle, end it.  If you find you're only happy when this other person isn't around or isn't talking, end it.

I know it's not always easy to get out, but you should. Even if you can't do it at the moment, realize  that it needs to end and start making plans to where that can happen.  And every time you start straying from your plan, remind yourself of how deeply awful your life is with this person. Remind yourself that you have a goal for freedom. No one should have to live in misery.

So what have I done for love? Stupid things.

What will I do for love now?

I'll live my life to the best of my ability.  I'll continue to press on with my goals of trying to make the most of my body and mind. I'll revel in my own beauty and dance to stupid theme music. When something in my life sucks, I'll remember it doesn't have to be this way. I'll start making plans to change whatever it is. I'll do what I have to, no matter what, just to make sure I'm happy, stable, and content.

And yes, I realize none of that has anything to do with romantic love. It shouldn't. I won't do anything for romantic love. If it shows up, it shows up.  Romantic love isn't some reward for jumping through all the social hoops.  That's just fake bullshit. Romantic love is when someone loves you for you. And as supermodel of the world and famed philosopher RuPaul says, "If you can't love yourself, how in hell you gonna love someone else?"

Can I get an amen?

Imaginary Friends

I always think it's so funny how people talk about imaginary friends as something children have and eventually outgrow. This may be true for some kids, but in my case, I not only have imaginary friends of my own, I have quite a few that I share with others.

Look, it's not like I think they're real. I know they're not.  Still though, these are people that I (and others) invented and talk about on a regular basis. In most cases, it's a running joke or a form of cheap entertainment.

When my brother was little, we were quite often left to our own devices. We had this whole made up kingdom with a rich history, enemy kingdoms, and strange customs. Everyone in the kingdom, with a few, VERY few rare exceptions, suffered from perpetual stupidity. These people liked to sing though . . . because my brother and I liked to sing.  They would have frequent singing contests . . . and we would tape them.

I'm sure I could blackmail the hell out of my brother these days if I ever found one of those tapes. My grandparents had an ancient cassette recorder. We'd rehearse our parts, decide what idiotic character was singing what, and then record the whole thing and laugh our asses off when we listened to it.

Sometimes the characters would sing songs that already existed, albeit with bastardized lyrics. Other times, they would sing stuff we made up.  Most of the characters had theme songs, and quite often they were too stupid to sing anything besides their theme song.  Because my brother liked Pro Wrestling, and because I'm warped, many of the characters would issue big fight speeches and challenges before they sang.  They were all convinced they were going to win.

Almost always, the contest was won by a group of random cats who would show up and meow some song for a bit. My brother and I would both do the meowing. They weren't special cats or smart cats, they were just cats. However, they still sounded so much better than all the other idiots, they would get to win. Usually this caused a lot of anger for the other contestants.

And yes, I still do this. Even as I type this, one of my friends and I are talking about our imaginary friend and her crazy ass family. I just finished talking to a friend where we discussed magic sweaters that lurk on the floor in wait of devouring a host.  No singing contests yet, but give me time.

The Bad and the Ugly

As I have mentioned before, a while back my therapist had me write a list of 50 ways my life would be better if I lost weight. The task was very effective. Having 50 solid reasons to do something is far more significant than having one or two reasons to do something. And let's face it, most of the time when we try to alter something about our lives, we tend to be pretty narrow on the 'reasons why' list.

The fifty things are great.  They've kept me walking in the afternoon and kept me from requesting snacks, even when I really felt like I wanted one. Some days when I'm having a lot of temptation, I go back and review the list.  It helps to really saturate yourself in all these things that can be better if you just try for them.  And yes, some days, that's all it can amount to. Trying. There are days when I don't do well at all.

I think one of the vicious cycles about self-destructive behaviors is that most of us start them because we're not happy with our lives.  We don't know how to make our lives happy, or perhaps falsely believe someone else will do this for us, and so we turn to something to fill the void. The behaviors make us feel better, but they don't improve the situation . . . so whenever we look at our lives, we just see more unhappiness . . . and our behavior usually increases.

Here's the tricky part.  The shitastic life mess won't go away even when you begin to alter your behavior. You will still be poor. You will still have crappy kids. You will still be in the bad marriage. You will still be sick. You will still have the bad job.  All of these things aren't going to change just because you decide to stop smoking or go on a diet or whatever. They don't just fade away. This frustrates a lot of people.  Quite often, it discourages them to the point where they just give up.

These things can change, but that, like everything else, will take effort on your part. You have to make it happen. And that may not be possible for a while, because even after your self-destructive behavior is gone, you may still be dealing with the consequences of it. You may have a lot of mental, emotional, and often physical issues due to it.  Those will need healing before anything major can change.

Again, at this point, I think a lot of people get discouraged.  Actually, it's probably even more intense than that. They just did something they assumed was impossible. They STOPPED the bad behavior. All of the sudden, they realize the bad behavior was just a small part of what was keeping them unhappy.

So, on days when things get really bad for me . . . when I'm in a lot of pain and machines aren't working and there are cat issues and other issues . . . I slip into this dark and ugly place of questioning why I should even bother. Why should I continue on in a life that makes me miserable?  I have no guarantees things will be be better if I'm thinner.  Losing weight doesn't mean I win a job, more money, and better living. These are all just assumptions.

I have this list now though. The list doesn't mention a better job or such things. It talks about more endurance. It talks about having more physical strength.  It talks about being less stressed, having a lower heart rate, more mobility.

When you take your life from one of self-destruction, what you regain are tools. These tools can help you find ways to make life work for you.  They give you access to options you couldn't take before. They give you the energy to find the better life for yourself.

As for happiness?  Well, that's something you can't earn or find just be accident.  That's something you have to keep reminding yourself you need anyway. No matter how bad things get.

I Suppose I Should be Grateful for the Challenges

My beloved computer Bea is having some kind of issue.  She needs a part replaced and because she is a slimmer computer, Best Buy doesn't carry the part (at least, not in our area). However, my roommate is a shopping god, so he was able to find the part and get it shipped out today. With any luck, Bea won't be ill for long.

This has been one of those weeks where every effort TOWARDS the goals is met with a whole lot of hell. For instance, as fleas have decided to grace us with their horrid little existence, we've been on the warpath to destroy them. This involves a lot of vacuuming, putting stuff in the yard, and lavender. Unfortunately, it also involves dealing with the cats.

One would think that as much as the cats hate the fleas, they would be grateful to have us working on them.  Not the case. Not at all. The cats hate the flea combs and wiggle and protest during the whole process. This is only compounded when we have to spray them with the water and vinegar mixture. It's not like we want to use that, but it helps to sooth their cuts and the fleas hate it.

However, if you have trained your cats to hate spray bottles, then using one on them for medical purposes becomes quite challenging. And painful. I currently have several cuts from the Spray Bottle Wars, including one across my left breast. I think the cat was trying to remove it for me. The most painful cut is on my thumb.  It's deep and located right where my thumb hits keys while I type.

For the last ten days or so, I've been walking during the afternoon.  Not very far, of course, but it's a start.  I've also gotten back into the routine of my other exercise. It's been great until today when I woke up with a lot of pain on the outside of right leg.  It runs from just below my hip to just past my knee.  It doesn't  hurt constantly, just when I sit or stand. When I do these things, however, it hurts like a bastard. Hopefully sleep will make it go away.

Despite the setbacks, I'm going to keep on towards my goals. I talk a lot about being positive and, yeah, I get that it's really damned hard sometimes. Right now, it's pretty hard for me because things kind of suck.  However, I know most of this stuff is just temporary.  Fleas will be conquered. Pain will go away. Computers can be fixed. In the process though, it's rough. I'll figure it out though. I always do.

Summer is Coming . . . so much worse than Winter is Coming

Today was one of those days filled with annoyances. To begin with, my computer decided to make a horrible vibrate-y noise. We ended up driving to Best Buy in the next town over to have them look at it. They didn't charge us for the fix, and it did get fixed, but the whole process really sucked.

The fleas and other various bugs seem to be out in full force. I have some major fleabejeebies going on right now. It's not even May and I'm completely over summer already. I hate this time of year.  No good comes of it.  Look, I realize this is becoming a really negative post, but seriously, summer is horrible for me. It's just something expensive that I endure (and not well).  When I was younger, I used to go swimming or to the movies and stuff like that. All of that is out of my life now, so summer just sucks.  Bugs, heat, hell.

One of our cats is peeing in the utility room floor.  Almost every day that I go in there, some level of urine is trying to dry into my linoleum.  We've tried all kinds of things to make him stop, but none of it seems to be working. By the time I cleaned it today, I was hot and disheartened. I know he's going to keep doing it and there isn't a damned thing I can think of to stop him.

Look, I know it isn't all bad. We deal with the fleas every year and tend to win against them. Summer eventually ends. It's just that the process is stressful and exhausting. I'd give anything to have a summer as mild as the winter we just had. It would be a nice break, you know? I'd just really like to now have to face a whole four months with nothing but a sense of growing dread.

Sluts Across America

There is this basic idea going around that any woman who believes in the rights to or uses birth control has to be some raging slut.  Allow me to retort.

Why hello there. I am a slut.

I am a slut, it seems, because I believe in a woman's access to birth control.
I am a slut because I believe children who are planned for have a stronger sense of being wanted.  As a child who was neither planned nor wanted, I know this first hand.
I am a slut because I believe a woman who can control her own body will make a stronger mother when she chooses to become one.
I am a slut because I believe PCOS and other hormonal issues are easier to control when you can use the pill.
I am a slut because I want women to be responsible about their own fate and the fate of any possible children they bring into this world.
I am a slut because I believe periods should be manageable.
I am a slut because I believe someone who wants to have sex shouldn't live in fear of the fact that she did.
I am a slut because I know that the leading cause of unnatural death in pregnant women is the father of the child.
I am a slut because I believe you should be sane, healthy, and financially stable before you choose to have children.
I am a slut because I believe women who have children should be able to prevent more children from showing up and taking resources away from the children already there.
I am a slut because I know sometimes the most responsible thing a mother can do is use birth control because they told her if she had another baby, she would die.
I am a slut because the last thing a homeless woman needs is a baby.
I am a slut because when I talk about unwanted pregnancies, I bring up the concept of rape. And when people ask why I always do that, I tell them that because I know if I got pregnant, given that I don't participate in sex with others, it would be because I got raped.
I am a slut because I want the world to be filled with children someone wanted.
I am a slut because I want the population to be stable.
I am a slut because I want women to be able to experience life on their own terms.
I am a slut because, yes, I believe you should be allowed to do as you wish.

Are you a slut?  Tell your story. 

Goals . . . I Has Them

I've written about goals before, but I think it's something that I need to return to from time to time. Goals are important and help to give you focus and direction in your life. Goals can be the difference between whether or not you get out of bed in the morning. And for me, goals are this whole new concept, as odd as that may sound.

Throughout most of my life, I've never had many goals. Not real ones, anyway.  There were things I wanted and desired, but very rarely anything that I set in the form of a goal.  A lot of this had to do with some basic misconceptions I had about the term.

GOALS CAN NOT BE FAKED

You can say you want something or you are striving towards something, but that doesn't make it real. You can lie about a goal all day long, but unless you truly want it, it's probably not going to happen.

Why? Mostly because without true desire, you will lack motivation. When you really believe and want a goal, then you make time, a lot of time, to work on the achievement of that goal. Everyday.  Much of what you do in your life is centered, motivated, and directed by the goal. If you don't really want the goal, then you won't put in the effort.

At best, you'll put on a show when others are watching (or when you think they are) to make it look like you're working on the goal.  The rest of the time, you're going to be doing other stuff. Later, you'll wonder why you didn't achieve the goal and, instead of really being disappointed about it, you'll be more concerned about how others are going to see you now.

You have to be honest with yourself.  If you find that you're not putting out any effort towards the goal, then you need to figure out if this is what you really want . . . or just something you think you're supposed to want. If it's just a supposed to, end it. Stop wasting your time and being frustrated.

GOALS CAN NOT DEPEND ON OTHER PEOPLE

Do you want a safe and secure life where you don't have to worry about bills or unexpected events? Awesome. These are good goals to have . . . however, if your solution to achieving those goals is based on someone else, you're probably not going to end up happy.

We can only achieve our goals through our own means. It's nice if you have someone along to help you, but never depend on them to be the one to do all the goal accomplishing.  I realize this flies in the face of the way a lot of people view marriage, but it shouldn't. While marriage is a partnership, it is most stable when both parties have goals they individually wish to accomplish.

Whatever your goals are in life, you need to ask yourself who you see accomplishing them for you? Is it you or someone else? If it's someone else, you need to take a step back and make a new plan. How can you achieve your goals on your own? What changes do you need to make to allow that to happen?

Why? People die. People leave you. People decide they have other things in mind. People get sick or injured.  Beyond that, it's really not fair to place your goals on the back of someone else. By making them work on your goals, what are you forcing them to give up for themselves?

COMPLEX GOALS SHOULD BE VIEWED AS COMPLEX PUZZLES

One of the reasons why I've not lost weight is because it has always seemed impossible to me. I would work on it, but there was so much I needed to lose and it was going to take years to do. I've always allowed the complexity and length of the process to halt any progress. It never occurred to me to view my weight loss as a puzzle. A complicated problem with many activities, many alterations, and tons of obstacles.

When we view the issues and problems that keep us from our goals as puzzles, we begin to set ourselves up for success. Puzzles are difficult, but not impossible. Puzzles are best when challenging because the easy ones get boring.  Puzzles an be approached from many directions and when one direction doesn't work, it's not a failure, just an attempt that didn't achieve the goal. But even an unsuccessful attempt still allows us to learn.  It's one more step towards the goal, so still of value.

The important thing about this time of outlook is that it allows you to view your obstacles with rational thought instead of emotional opinion. "This is impossible" is almost always an opinion. "This is too hard," is usually a temporal value. It may be too hard at the moment, but that doesn't mean it will be too hard over time.

In conclusion, I have to say that having some direction in life is rather nice. I'm not just free floating in some confused mess, hoping that no one notices that is exactly what I'm doing. I have goals that I truly want to accomplish. I have goals that I am not depending on others to accomplish for me. Most importantly, I have goals that, while difficult, are still within my grasp.  And tomorrow, I'll be even closer to them than I am at this moment.

Topic Control: I'd Rather Not . . .

I just spent 45 minutes trying to put a smaller size earbud condom on my earbuds. I bet there is a place in Hell where the punishment is just doing little frustrating tasks like this and they never end. I'd rather be set on fire than deal with another set of earbud condoms. The earbuds were really super cheap so it was worth it to get them. I dislike them as a rule because you have to stick them INSIDE your ears and we all know how much I hate being penetrated.  I operate with three things that need headphones at all times though, so I can't pass up cheap functioning ones. Even if penetration is involved.

Speaking of being penetrated, this brings me to my topic for the evening. As always . . . well, okay, as often as I can remember I do this, I allowed someone else to choose my topic. Tonight, I am to talk about things I'd rather not do.  I could write a million things here and probably many of them would be repeats from earlier posts. In the spirit of not boring the shit out of everyone, I'll try to keep this fresh.

1. I would rather not eat yogurt. I do eat it, because I know it's good for me. I tend to feel better when I eat it on a regular basis, but if I didn't have to for those reasons, I would never eat the stuff. Having said that, I've found a way to make it tolerable. I mix cereal into it and it's decent. Props to my roommate for making that happen.

2. I would rather not meet your significant other.  I can think of like three times I've ended up enjoying the company of one of my friends' significant others.  Those times were lovely and magical. The rest of the time, it's just a huge ball of awkward and bad. Most of the time, people's SOs end up just being horrible. I quite hate them and very quickly can't NOT show that.  So, really....if we're friends, don't bother introducing me to your whomever. I'd rather not deal with it.

3. I'd rather not go in your restaurant.  Drivethrus are so awesome. I love them so much because I really do not want to walk inside your restaurant. I don't want to deal with your crappy chairs and your crappy tables and your bad lighting and your  horrid decor. I don't want to listen to children scream or whine or bitch. I don't want to watch people making out or see how really dirty the place is.  No, instead, I would rather drive to a window, pick up my food, and have as little human contact as possible.

4. I'd rather not wear color. You know, for me, it's not really a goth thing for the all black clothing. It's not even really a fat girl thing. It's more about just the evenness of the tones. Black all matches the other black. I never have to worry about what kind of clashing hell the colors are doing. It's not that I don't grasp the concept of color. I do. I just don't want to deal with it.

5. I'd rather not talk in the phone. This one is odd, because back in the day, I was a marathon phone talker. I would spend hours on the phone and enjoy every second of it. These days? Ehh. I'd rather just type something at you.  I can plan that out and put some thought into it before just blurting out something or rambling on and on. If there is an uncomfortable silence, we can both pretend it's lag.

Well, so there you have it. Five things I'd rather not do. I still end up doing most of them, but I don't do it with glee, happiness, or joy. Though, oddly this discussion has made me rather happy.

Sunday Sinus Hell

I have this horrible headache and this won't be a long post. Despite my best efforts, my sinus issues are kicking me in painful and abusive ways. I have a low grade fever and swelling around my ears. I hate that so much. As it stands, no amount of pressure point rubbing will help.

I'm honestly having trouble even focusing at this point. It's really not a pain thing so much as a pressure one. So yes, the pressure is getting to me. Hah! It's making my head and my joints throb. Fucking sinus evil.

I have such a love/hate relationship with Spring. I adore the flowers and the green. I like the gentle afternoon storms and the happy new little birds.  And I despise the birds that build nests in my walls, the scaryass tornadoes, and the constant barrage of pollen sticking to everything in my life.

So yes, this all for the post tonight. Better things to follow during the week.

A Serious Time for Therapy

It's strange how the abstract idea of something can be so simplex compared to the reality of it. Even seeing something instead of just having a concept of it in your head can drastically alter how you feel about it.

I've been considering several surgeries that I believe would improve the quality of my life. One of those, though certainly not the one I considered to the most drastic, would be the removal of my breasts and surrounding breast tissue. There are a lot of reasons why I should do this . . . probably the best one being that both of my grandmothers had breast cancer.  To be able to remove the problem before it becomes life threatening is a good idea.

I was curious as to how the process worked and looked it up. Yes, this is where the abstract concept slammed into reality. It's one thing to imagine pristine flat surface with small scars running over it.  It's quite another to see the reality of this, to look at something that is very imperfect and broken. I looked at the pictures for a long time and I wanted to cry.

And I don't mean cry for me. Though the reality wasn't what I expected, I know I'll accept it and continue to move forward. However, I'm OPTING for this.  It's a decision I'm considering while I still have the freedom and time to do so.  For women who have to make this decision when it's life with no breasts or death?  I know anyone who goes through this is strong, but it still has to be so devastating.  It has to be horrible the first time they look at the pictures I just saw.

I don't think enough can be said about the need for people to receive therapy if they're going to have major surgery.  In our modern society, there are few things we do that puts us in such a vulnerable position.  Most often in a sedated state, people all around you, looking at the body you probably only let a few other people see, and cutting it open, moving their hands or sharp things or machines around inside you.  There is nothing wrong at all with saying that's scary as hell.

Once you're out of the surgery, you have to endure a lot of pain.  Your body is now different than it was before. You may have to have assistance in washing or even in going to the bathroom.  Your body has been flooded with drugs.  Even just one of these things alone would be enough to make it wise to get therapy as you're processing all of this change in your life.

When I was in my twenties and recovering from surgery, I was lost to myself for about a year. Despite the pain and complications that followed what happened, the part that I remember being the most difficult was just not knowing how to function as ME anymore. I know a lot of this has to do with the morphine drip, the Oxi I was given as a pain killer, and the jolting transition of having those in my system and then nothing at all in my system. Beyond the drugs though, there was just the lingering feeling I'd lost part of myself.  Physically, I had.

I know that if I'd had some kind of post-op therapy at that time, my recovery would have been less nightmarish. I know that I really needed someone to talk to and didn't have that (in a professional sense. I had friends, but it's not the same). I could have benefited from someone explaining this recovery/grieving process to me. I certainly could have used practical advice.

Whatever decisions get made about surgeries this time around, I'm more confident about it because I am in therapy. I have someone who has been working with me for quite some time and understands the kind of activities and tasks that really help me through things. I'm really grateful I'm going to have that.

Happiness: An Ongoing Essay. Fighting the Good Fight

I'm trying to modify my behavior in a lot of ways. For most of my life, it was something I didn't really think was possible.  I know better now and am trying to make my knowledge a reality. There are some physical behavior patterns I am trying to change, but most of them are mental and emotional.  Those are actually more difficult.

I think the biggest habit I'm trying to kick is allowing myself to get completely demoralized about the world around me. Everyday I find myself facing stuff that sickens my soul. Christians who defend bullying and the terrorizing of children because they are afraid if bullying stops then they can't be mean to gay people. People who post pictures of their exes on revenge porn sites to try and ruin their lives. People who want to legally limit the freedom of others.  I read stuff about this and other items like this almost every day.  Most of the time I try not to, but I still end up exposed to it.  It truly makes me not even want to live on this planet, or at the very least, never leave the house.

To fight this, I'm trying to find at least a couple of minutes out of each awake hour to try and put the goodness back inside me. I pet a cat or talk to a friend or listen to music.  I look at the birds outside, anything I can to to stop this evil bullshit from controlling my mood.  It's not easy, but I really do not want to feel this way all the time, so I'm doing what I can to stop it.

To me, fighting this battle is the key to fighting all the other ones. I know there have been times when I stopped trying to improve my life because I just felt overwhelmed by all the negativity around me. Negative, and complaining people who acted like their constant stream of criticism some kind of enlightened gift given to them to share with the world . . . I found myself around them all the time. I knew I was becoming like them.  I felt that if that was all life would be, just a bunch of bitches who would never be happy in the moment and keep looking for something to change so they could happy THEN, why should I bother?  If this kind of thing was all I had to look forward to, why want a future at all?

It's hard to let it all go. It's difficult to blow it off.  It's not easy to just let your mind drift into a happy place no matter what is happening around you, no matter what you read or what someone says.  You need to though.  I need to. It is critical that we promote our happiness, no matter what is going on.

I've said this before, but I think it's important to continue to promote the fact. Our happiness is up to us.  We can't rely on other people or their actions to make us happy. We can't allow our happiness to be based on sets of conditions or the behavior of objects. It is a fiction anyway, because you'll see in all of these cases, we were the ones who decided how and when our happiness would be allowed. We set the terms and set them up to cause us misery.  Only we can change them.

Imagine happiness is like breath.  Actually, it really is like breath. It is vital to our survival and productivity. Anyway, so what would happen if you placed limitations and conditions on your breathing? "Oh, I'll only let myself breath if other people are breathing too." "Oh, I'll only let myself breath if I find a husband." "Oh, I'll only let myself breath if nothing goes wrong."  In all of these cases, you're probably going to die.

Oh, but silly Blackhaired Barbie, not being happy doesn't kill you.

It's just that, I think that it does. I think the longer we go without happiness, the sicker we get.  I think the longer we go without happiness, the harder it is to be motivated to do anything else. I think the longer you go without happiness, the more  welcome and peaceful death sounds. And you may choose to get their quickly . . or just passively allow yourself to meet death quicker that you should have.

This is all way easier to write, even to believe, that to put into practice. Trust me, I know.  Trying to keep myself in a happy zone is hard.I think one thing that helps is to have something ridiculous that makes you laugh.  Everyone needs to find something that makes them burst into giggles no matter what.  Keep that thing close to you so that when things get too bad, you can start making yourself laugh again. Practice this over and over again until it becomes easier to do.

When it comes down to it, being happy just makes more sense. It does better things for your body.  It frees up a lot of your mind. It gives you a chance to let some other emotions show up in a positive way.  Being unhappy gets you no where. It just wastes your time . . . and usually someone else's as well. It's so cliched to say this, but our lives really are short.  What the fuck is the point in wasting your minutes being pissed off about stuff?

Post Fridge Cleaning

Guess what I have! That's right, a clean fridge! It was a lengthy process, but it's all clean(erish) and pretty and white and lovely. My roommate even pulled the big bastard out and cleaned behind it. It's a thing of beauty. It was also less drama than we thought it would be.  I can think of several reasons for that.

First of all, we planned this. No one should ever randomly decide "oh, I'm going to clean the fridge today." You can do it, but it causes a lot of hassle. Actually, in the past we have had to do it that way, but only because the fridge we had at the time was screwing up. This time, we knew we were going to do it, so we took so steps to make the process easier.

• The rest of the kitchen was clean.  Okay, not the floors, really, but the majority of everything else. No dirty dishes. No cluttered surfaces.  This meant we could access the sink for washing of fridge shelves and had plenty of room to stack things as they were coming out of it. 
• There was a place for everything to stay during displacement. We had room in the freezers for freezery things and room in the other fridge for everything else. What didn't go into the smaller fridge was placed in an ice chest. 
• Everyone had designated roles. My roommate is taller than I am and more physically mobile. He cleaned the top of the fridge and the insides of it while I worked on all the shelves and racks. One person could have done this alone, but it would have taken a lot longer and been rather overwhelming. Given how filthy things were, I can see it being deeply overwhelming.

Speaking of not getting overwhelmed, the fact that we took measures to make sure this didn't happen is another reason the cleaning was successful. My roommate and I believe in the theory of cleaning in small spaces of time. We try to only work on cleaning the house somewhere between ten and thirty minutes a day. If a project is going to last longer than that, we still make sure to take breaks from it.

Another thing that made it easier had to do with the methods of cleaning we use.  Quite often during those breaks, we leave things soaking. Yes, scrubbing can be easier sometimes, but with certain messes, it's best just to allow it to soak off. I'm also quite fond of putting bigger items in the bathtub. There is ample room to wash the whole surface, plus the stronger sprays of water from the shower head.

For me, the primary and most effective cleaning tool is a mascara brush. Yes, that's right, like the kind you use to make your lashes look longer. I read about them on a Lifehacker post and thought it was a great idea. Mascara brushes have a nice fuzzy end that can get into just about every crevice and an easily maneuvered handle. While you can save them when your mascara runs out, cleaning them is a messy process. It's better and probably cheaper just to buy them in bulk.

I use them on everything. I clean my keyboard with them, I clean fans with them, and today, I cleaned all the small open spaces on the vent from the bottom of the fridge with one.  It took what would have been at least an hour of annoyance down to about five minutes. I'm telling you, the things are worth their weight in gold.

So here it is, the end of the day, and I'm sitting pretty knowing I have a clean fridge in the kitchen. I'm not bitter or injured or traumatized because of the process . .  . and believe me, there have been times when I was all of the above. We planned this out though. We took steps to make sure it was as pain free as possible. This little bit of preparation really worked for us.

When Fridges Attack

If all goes as planned, my roommate and I will be cleaning out the fridge tomorrow. It's kind of one of the last big annoying tasks we have to accomplish in the process of making the house a clean(erish) place to live. We've been kind of planning on it for weeks now, so we've been careful about not adding a lot of extra stuff into it. Less stuff means less crap to deal with when we clean it. While the fridge is dirty, I'm not really that concerned about it. It's less horrible than other refrigerators I've dealt with before.

For one thing, it has solid surface shelves. We can pull them out, wipe them down, and replace them will little to no hassle. The fridge in the last house had wire shelves. If you've ever cleaned the wire shelves of refrigerator, when you have a chance to get a new one, you certainly don't choose wire shelves again. They really suck and they get so damned filthy. Every little section of them has potential for grossness. And you have to clean all of the little spaces.

When I was in college, the fridge in our rent house leaked water into the bottom of itself. There was the constant pool of disgusting wetness, usually rocking some unholy color. We'd clean it . . . well, when we were of the mind to do so. This wasn't too often. It was the 90's and college. Most of the time, we'd open it, look at the puddle of nasty, and just let it drift from our minds. This meant once we did clean it, it was pretty horrible.

Even the fridge I'll be cleaning tomorrow isn't as bad as it used to be.  My grandmother had a habit of keeping food items inside of it well past their expiration date. It has a lot of depth to it, so the deeper you go in, the more weird and disgusting shit you would find. It was usually growing hair and sometimes it would even speak to you.  That last part might have been some hallucination brought on by whatever spores were growing back there.

As my roommate and I both suffer some minor PTSD due to scary refrigerator monsters, we try to keep ours as free of potential breeding grounds as possible. When things get too old, they get tossed with no drama or special event. That way it's easier when we need to empty the thing and nothing in there is trying to form its own independent nation.

One of the things I'm coming to accept about this whole cleaning thing is that a lot of little steps really make the bigger steps easier. A lot of wise decisions, easy to follow rules, and willingness to take a minute or so to clear some stuff out of your way can make the whole process of house cleaning less of a hellish jacked up mess. You can't always choose your fridge, but if you get the chance, make sure that *easy to clean" is on your list of criteria for it. Make sure your fridge is in good working order.  Most importantly, take a few minutes to clear out the old stuff. In the long run, you'll thank yourself for all of this.

Topic Control: Debunking the "Good Old Days"

Someone asked me to talk about how today is better than it was back when I was younger. Being almost 40, jaded, and pretty bitter about most things, I wasn't sure if this was possible. However, there are some ways that things are better than back when I had perkier breasts. And some of these things, had I possessed them then, could have saved me a lot of money, pain, and grief.

I started college in 1992, and while we had computers, we certainly (in my area) didn't have cheap internet service (it was hellishly expensive), instant messages, or cell phones with free long distance.  These days, talking to people across the country or even across the state costs you no more than what you pay for your service. When I was in college, it cost a lot.  And my long distance bill was always high.

Actually, the most grief-inducing incident of this happened before college. My best friend graduated a year before I did and so whenever she was away at college, all calls cost me money.  Usually we could keep this at a nice low amount.  Sometimes that just wasn't possible. This specific time, I called her in the middle of the day (which was more expensive) and kept her on the phone for an hour. I had to. I was deeply upset and needed to talk to her. The call was important to keeping me from doing something bad to myself (remember I was a teenager).

That didn't stop me from dreading the bill. My grandparents were always upset with even the smallest long distance call and I knew this one was going to be big.  Fortunately, I got paid before the bill came in, so I had the money to cover it. I still knew I had to prepare them.  For three days, I walked to the mailbox to get the mail before they could. Even when the bill came in, I couldn't bring myself to talk to them about it at first.  They were both grousing about some other issues, so I was waiting for them to get in a better mood. Of course, after a few days, they started to wonder where the phone bill was.

God. I can still remember everything about this. I was sitting at the dining room table and my whole body was cold. I felt like some spotlight was blasting into me as I told them to come and sit down because I wanted to talk to them about something. They both did, both of them with anger already in their eyes.  I knew whatever I said was going to piss them off but it was too late.

"I have the phone bill," I said. "There is a call on it that I made. An expensive call to Tahlequah and I have the money to pay it so it's no big deal." Actually, everything I said was true. I did have the money to pay for the expensive call so it really wasn't a big deal. Except, of course, that it was.

"What call? Who were you calling? How expensive? Hand me that bill!" Of course, once they saw it, their anger redouble because . . .okay, it really wasn't THAT bad, but to them, it was.

"How could you do this to us? We give you everything! What were you thinking? What COULD you be talking to someone about for that long?"

I shut down a lot during conflicts and I know it frustrates people. However, over the years, I've learned that you just can't talk to angry people. They don't listen. They really don't care. They just want to bask in their anger and feel all important because of course the whole world, and especially YOU are fucking them over just as hard as possible. Besides, how can you really articulate a situation like this?

"Here's the thing, grandparents, I'm a teenager and there are things in my life that, when I am older, I will realize I blew way out of proportion. Right now, however, they feel like the biggest things ever. When I made this call, every part of me was suffering and I knew the only person who could talk me through it was my best friend. She's the only one who understands. So, at the moment, making that call was  way more important than any consequences from it. I knew I would have the money to pay for it, even though I knew you two would put me through hell over it."

"As to why I hid the bill from you, while this may not seem sane or rational, you have to realize you make me feel quite INsane and IRrational most of the time, because you always escalate any minor situation into a major one. Any slight, any imperfection, any moment when I prove to be a flawed human creates this reaction in you to where you bitch at me for hours. I could handle the bitchfest, but it's these looks you give me, like I just gutted you or stomped on the head of  baby or something, that makes it so much worse. I'm sorry you're raising me instead of my mother, but every little thing I do shouldn't be treated like I just blew up the house."

Of course, I said none of this. I just slammed the money on the table on top of the bill and ran into my room to hide. They spent the next half hour loudly discussing why I was so emotional and reactionary and bemoaning the fact that by running up the telephone bill, I would soon be just like my mother. Morbidly, I would listen to this for a while, but then put on my headphones and just block them out. I knew the bill would now get paid without anyone getting shot for running it up so high (or whatever they thought would happen that could have made them so upset) and everything would go back to "normal."

Had I had internet access, instant messaging, email, a cell phone, or the like, I could have talked this out with my best friend with no problem whatsoever. They wouldn't have known. Life would have gone on as usual, or you know, until I fucked up everything again.  Now, I know that some teenagers now still run up high phone bills, but this is usually due to texting. I hate texting, so maybe I could have avoided that one.

Thinking like the Grown Ups Do

At some point, I actually passed 400 posts. Yay me. The fact that I've been doing it this long still amazes me.  I'm still seeing worth and benefit from it as well. It's helped me to learn the proper way to handle some other things about my life.

For instance, my therapist gave me an assignment for the week. I was to write down 50 things that would be different in my life if I got down to a healthy weight. For the majority of my life, I would have jotted down a few things the first day of the week, stressed about it for the next five days but not do anything about it, then, the night before, I would rush through the list without any thought or real insight, just to get the damned thing finished.  Oh wait, this is me on a GOOD week. More than likely, I would have written down a few things the first day and then stressed about it the rest of the week, do nothing, and then make excuses as to why when I went to therapy. Assuming I'd go at all.

Instead, I wrote down about ten things the first night, things I could think of that are always pretty clear in my mind about the situation. Over the next several days, I wrote more, allowing myself to really delve deeper into places where my life could and would change.  Tonight, a full day ahead of time, I'm finished with the list . . . and I never even resorted to sarcasm. That's kind of two miracles in one.

The best part is, I actually DID the intended assignment.  See, the list isn't as important as me thinking about what could go on that list. It was a chance for me to take stock with all the things about my life that are not good and how losing weight could improve them. And I don't mean "I'll get a boyfriend and everyone will love me." I'll never have a boyfriend and people already love me.  These two things have nothing to do with me being fat.

I'm talking about things like comfort and mobility and accessibility. More importantly, and this is what I ended the list with, losing weight means I don't have to waste so much time and emotional energy dealing with being fat.  I won't have to stress about everything that is on the list.  Realizing this and reading it back when I was looking at the list made me realize how liberating it would be.

It's funny how, as a rather self-centered culture, we somehow fail to see the things that are truly about us. This assignment wasn't for my therapist's benefit. It's not like when I hand her off the printed up list she's going to be overjoyed, take it home and pin it on her fridge. It I didn't complete the list, it means nothing to her. By the same token, if I complete the list but only half-ass it, it means nothing to her.

But if I half-assed it, it does mean something to me. Or rather, it takes something away from me. The assignment was designed to show me something I wasn't really seeing. If I just rushed it, I never would have seen what I understand now. I would have just been screwing myself.

Damn. I forgot to add "won't just be screwing myself" to the list . . .

What A Girl Wants

Dear politicians,

As this is political season and you all seem interested in gaining my favor, I thought I'd take a little time to talk to you about what I would like from you.  If the number of calls you've made to my phone is any indication, I'm guessing you truly desire to understand what I need and want from you.

I would like for you to stabilize the economy.  I realize this means some cuts and sacrifices for a while, but that's okay. I would like for you to start with yourselves. Most of you are rich bastards anyway, so a few years of lower income won't hurt you.  I'm not saying you should work for free. That would be wrong!

I think you should be paid minimum wage. Yes, that's right! If you believe most Americans can live off of this just fine, I'm sure you'd relish the chance to prove the point. So . . . minimum wage . . . and not for a fixed salary. This will be paid by the hour that you actually clock in and work through. 

Secondly, I would like for you to stop letting corporations influence you.  No more laws that favor big business over everyone else. No more laws that try to let things like SOPA through.  Just fucking stop that.  No one wants laws like this . . . well, no one besides idiots who refuse to understand that their movies don't make money because their movies SUCK.  Seriously though. If our country is going to allow influence to be bought in this manner, please stop trying to say we're a free society. Clearly, we wouldn't be.

Third, stay the hell out of my private decisions. The government has no business in who I marry, who I sleep with, or what kind of birth control I use. It's not your concern. These are private matters that should be decided by private citizens. Not the government and certainly not politicians who aren't serving their constituents as much as they are serving some other agenda.

Fourth, please stay out of the media. If you want to set up a Twitter account where you tell people how you're budgeting you minimum wage job and discussing the information you read from the bills that you are actually studying now (because you will study them now!  It means another hour's worth of payment!), that is fine.  If you want to set up a Facebook page where people can tell you how they view an issue, that's fine too.

However, I'm really tired of politicians famewhoring. No getting your own TV shows or saying disruptive things to get attention or causing scandals. Dammit, just do your job and show some dignity!  You're a Senator, not Paris Hilton!  Stop demanding as much attention as she does (or did).

Finally, and most importantly, please try not to become evil.  Don't be one of these people who says women who are beaten by their husbands should just find a way to work it out or someone who says it can be argued that money is more important to men than it is to women.  Please don't scream at people, exclude people from discussions, or spread lies about weapons or mass destruction or if you had sex with people you shouldn't have been fucking.  Just please, please stop it.

While we're at it, please don't make bigoted statements against people who make up part of the population of your district. No matter where you happen to be serving, I'm sure at least someone is not the same color as you or gay or an atheist or something else. Remember that you represent these people as well, and they are not the enemy.

Yeah, I guess that's about it.  I'm sure a lot of this may confuse you (like the concept of minimum wage and hourly pay), but I'm sure you have some researchers who can explain it to you.  I'm sure you'll read my list and happily comply once you understand it.  And if you don't, well, I can always try and vote your ass out next time.

Toodles,

BHB

Philosophy of Inner Drives: Creative Drive in Disguise

It always upsets me when people tell me they're not creative. It also upsets me that I hear this so often. "Oh, I wish I could come up with the stuff that you do." "I wish I could write/paint/draw." "I wish I could think of things like that, but my mind just isn't creative."

I've talked before about how society tends to try and destroy and/or dismiss our creative drive. They never do, of course, but they certainly mask and hide it for a lot of people. Other people are taught to dismiss creativity and focus on other things.

However, no matter what you've been taught or even what you believe, you DO possess a creative drive. It may not be the main driving force of your life, but it is there and you do use it. The hell, you say? Well, let's look at some factors.

As we've talked about before, one of the ways the creative drive gets stifled in people is due to this assumption that only the "talented few" possess it.  Unless you  can dance like a ballerina or paint like Leonardo, you have no talent, and therefore, no real creativity. What this really means though, is that you have taken your creative drive and focused it in another avenue.

Now, some of these other avenues may be very positive and healthy for you. For instance, the majority of your creative drive may be focused in problem solving.  There are some obvious creative links here. Inventors tend to look at the world, see what needs a better solution, and then find ways to make that solution become a reality. Event planners can make a great deal of money by looking at seemingly impossible situations (get 3000 people who hate each other to all eat cake at the same time) and finding ways to make them run smoothly.

Even on a day to day basis though, you probably activate your creativity millions of times. You put together meals. You put together outfits. You arrange the date for a perspective romantic evening.  You buy a gift for someone.  All of these things access your creative drive.

On the other hand, many people access their creative drives for less beneficial reasons. Thinking of ways to torture someone, ways to make them miserable, or lies to start about them may not be that nice, but they do still employ the creative drive. Sometimes we use creativity in counterproductive ways, such as finding ways to cheat on a test or get out of doing your job. Still creative, but probably not doing you a lot of good in the long run.

My guess is that for a lot of people, the majority of their creative drive is used to help them to stay alive and reasonably sane. They lie to people who won't accept the truth.  They find ways to hide from people who would harm them. They allow their minds to wander into far off places so they don't have to think about what is going on around them.

Look, if you ever take anything away from my blog, please let it be this. The next time you think that you're not creative, stifle that thought. You are creative and you do creative things every day.  You play with your kids. You get really deeply into your video game character. You plan your family vacation.  You plan for your retirement. All of these things utilize the vast wealth of creative energy we all possess.

As I've written before, creativity is the reason we continue to survive. It is fundamental in making sure we continue to do so. And this doesn't hinge on just the creative thinking of an elite few. This hinges on all of us, because we are all capable of creative thought.

The Beautiful One

Today, Iman Woods asked Facebook friends to tell her what makes them feel pretty. I responded with, "I'm mostly the one who makes me feel pretty." This is true, actually, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized some people would see it as some schmaltzy slogan of what we enlightened womenfolk are supposed to say, but truly don't mean. I thought maybe I should clarify.

Ever since I was a little kid, I've been fat.  Not just heavy. Not just plump. Fat. Fat and later on, hella fat . . . that's the official scientific term for it you know.  I was never told I was pretty.  Now don't feel bad about that. It's really okay. In fact, I count myself lucky because not being told I was pretty by others allowed me to not define myself by my looks.  People complimented the fact that I was an entertaining   smart ass. This is where I place my value.

So while people would compliment my wit or whatever, it was left to me to tell myself I was pretty. Now for a long time, I didn't do this. I bought into the fact that being beautiful was somehow conditional on me jumping through a lot of social hoops to get there.  I had to keep my hair a certain way. I had to dress a certain way. I had to wear makeup and shave and smile and look bright-eyed. I also had to be thin . . . and if I couldn't accomplish that, none of the rest of it mattered that much. I would just be a pleasingly made up smiling girl with nice hair who was fat.

The thing is though, as much as I tried to deny my beauty (due to not meeting the conditions and never having the approval of others), deep down, I never bought that I wasn't pretty. Not socially acceptable, no.  Not conventionally or even unconventionally pretty, no.  Still, though, when I look at my face, I love the way my lips look. I like my eyebrows, I love the cleft in my above my upper lip. I like my eyes.  I love my skin tone. I like the way my coloring works, even when I decide to alter it.

Some people will read this and write me off as a vain bitch, even a delusional one.  That's not the point though. Yes, I'm the one who says I'm pretty. I'm who looks at me in the mirror and smiles back. I'm the one who runs my fingers through my hair and loves the texture of it. And why would I not feel this way?  Life can either be about me enjoying what I've been given and being thankful for what I have . . . or it can be about me obsessing over every flaw, every pound, and ever moment when I fail to live up to someone else' standards.

Honestly, I'd rather go through life not torturing myself. I'll just be the one to tell me I'm pretty. I'm doing everyone a favor and keeping people out of awkward situations.  The people who just outright hate my fat ass are difficult, but in some ways easier than those who feel they have to say something in a positive light.

Sometimes I was told I was attractive, but always with clarification.  This is when someone is telling you that you might have some good qualities, but those are in no way enough to make up for your fatness. "You're actually cute for a big girl." "You have such a pretty face."  There is a possibility that when people say these things, they think they're being nice. If you're one of those people, just stop. You're not being nice. This is about as nice as randomly hitting someone with a baseball bat but putting a pink bow on the end of it.  Pretty it up all you like, you still just hit me with a bat.

The people who were actually somewhat more nice were the ones who focused on one feature and ignored everything else. "You have such pretty skin." "I love the color of your eyes." I always liked these better, because I could tell the person put some effort into a way to be complimentary without making it totally awkward. It's a good policy, because just about everyone has at least one or two pleasing features. Sadly, people who gave compliments like this were rare. Trust me though, if you want to make someone's day, focus on the places where they shine and tell them about it.


If someone compliments you, it's nice. Nice, but unnecessary. This is your skin.  Love it for just that fact, no matter what the skin looks like.  Enjoy what you've been given, even if society is almost demanding that you don't.  Why should you do this? Two things.  First of all, you are worthy of love and compliments.  Yes, right now.  Not later when you've accomplished things and jumped those hoops. Now. This very second, you are worthy.

And secondly, being happy is always the best revenge.

The Terrible Tuesday

My day sucked balls . . . deflated balls! I have this exercise ball. Oh, as a side note, if you a heavy person who wants to work out, exercise balls are great.  They help to minimize pain while giving you support. And if you shop around, you can get really strong ones.  Some of them can support up to 2000 lbs.

The ball could support my fat ass . . . unfortunately, it couldn't support cat claws. Rhiannon, as is her way, decided to hop on the ball and dig her claws in!  We thought we got her off of it before any real damage could happen. We were wrong. My poor ball is dying a death of no air.  Goodbye, my darling ball. I had a lot of fun gyrating on you. I'll miss that.

The ball situation was annoying and really more than I wanted to deal with. However the car, bless her little heart, decided to test the limits of my brain and fuck up as well. The car has a new battery, so we're thinking something else godawful expensive that has to happen before the car can start. Dammit. I really hate it when we have to spend money on the car because it takes away from the potential pool of funds needed to cover whatever bullshit problems the van decides to have.

On the plus side, I got to see my brother's wife and kids today. Many gifts were given to them. I also got to make some decisions about my future.  I'm also thankful I have a very supportive roommate.  He calms me down when I freak the hell out and takes my plans seriously.  That's good to have. I feel quite blessed.

So yes, the day sucked, but like any day, it didn't suck completely.  Tomorrow we get to push the car again. Yay. Do you see the sarcasm and spite in that yay? Good.

House Reorganization Review

Today we cleaned the laundry room, which means that the whole house has been reorganized, reconsidered, and cleaned within the last several weeks.  Things look clearer and less chaotic and it is wonderful.  Oddly, the house looks bigger as well. I guess that's what happens when you get rid of probably a room's worth of shit.

There are still some issues that need to be addressed. We still need to clean out the fridge. Some larger appliances need to be wiped down.  Some odds and ends still don't have homes or are in temporary spots we find we just don't like for them. I'm pretty sure all of this will be handled within the next couple of weeks.

I would like to discuss some highlights of this Great Spring Cleaning in the hopes that at a later point I'll look back at this post and, if I'm back to my old habits, I'll find a way out of them again.

• Practical and centralized locations. Before, we had tools in the back bedroom, tools in the laundry room, tools in the living room. Whenever things would go wrong (as they are wont to do at night), we'd have to look  all over the place for the right tool. And then go to another location to get screws or nails or whatever.  Now we have all the indoors tools in one location. A shelf down from that, we have all the other things you need for the tools. No running to other rooms just to get a nail.
• Location based on function and importance. Clearly some things are put into rooms because they only function in that room.  You don't stick the portable dishwasher in the living room. However, there are other items can float from place to place.  We decided, as much as we could, to move things to the area where they served the most purpose, such as putting the tools in the front part of the house, as it's usually the front part of the house that needs the tools.
  
  These two points are also illustrated in our gift wrapping stuff.  We kept wrapping paper in the back bedroom because it's where it best fit.  However, we kept the box containing gift bags, paper, tags, and other items in the living room office area. A whole box that is used maybe six times a year was in the living room.  There was absolutely no need for it to be in here when it got so little use.  The box is now sitting in the back room, on top of the location of the wrapping paper, so both can be used on those rare occasions when they need to be.
• Removal of items that promote bad habits. I used to keep all of my knitting stuff right next to me. It was organized, but not attractively so.  It also encouraged me to dally with projects and switch whenever the mood struck me. I moved the knitting things to the hallway. They look good in there, occupy space that nothing else really needed to, and insure that I can only do one project at a time, meaning of course, that I have a better motivation to finish said project . . . at least that is the theory.
• Organizing space in ways that encourage good good habits. Both my roommate and I exercise in our rooms. Whenever our rooms are disorganized and piled with stuff, it become annoying (and in some cases, difficult) to work out in there. One of the things we both did when we worked on our rooms was to make sure we had the space to work out with ease.
  
  As we're heading into warmer weather, a lot more vacuuming will be needed.   It was always quite annoying to get to every place in a room because we had so much stuff piled all over the place.  The stuff, most of it, is out of the house now.  Everything else has been placed in ways that will allow for easy moment whenever vacuuming is being done.

I think the best part of all of this is that I feel like we have a whole new house.  Yet, all we bought in this process were a couple of cheap poofs for my windows, cheaper curtains for his, and a new duster (our old one was falling apart).  Every other change we made was just a matter of rethinking locations and then, well, carrying, pushing, and/or shoving things into other rooms. In the end though, the house feels great. It smells and looks clean.  And I am quite happy.

Easter Observations

Another Easter has come and gone. I got to spend the day looking at people's family photos on Facebook.  I know this annoys a lot of other people, but I always find it nice.  For some reason, I really love looking at people's holiday pictures. It gives me warm fuzzies inside.

Maybe it's because, for the most part, I have very few of those.  There are a couple of Easter pictures here and there and maybe some Christmas ones.  However, most of them either died in a fire or were never taken in the first place. My family was never big on documenting itself.

This isn't to say Easter was without its annoyances. On Facebook, you always have those who have to act like it's their special duty to point out any slights of mishaps that mar their pure and perfect religious experience. I'm sorry, but if you don't want paganism creeping into your holiday, it's best not to transplant your holiday onto that of an already existing pagan holiday. That's kind of like setting your sweater down on a pile of cat hair and then complaining because your sweater is covered in cat hair.  If you put one on top of the other, there is always going to be some transference.

 While we're at it, if your kid is participating in an egg hunt, please remember you are an adult and not allowed to cross over into the egg hunting grounds.  You're also not allowed to bully other little kids away from eggs so your child can get the egg.  You certainly aren't allowed to physically harm other kids in the process. People used to bitch about the "everyone gets a trophy" parents.  Those people are nothing compared to the "my precious little beloved moppet should be the ONLY ONE allowed to get trophies. Here let me make sure they do" parents.

While we're on the topic of egg hunts, if there isn't one in your area, don't go to someone else's area and crash their hunt.  Even hunts that are open to the public have only planned to handle a certain number of visitors. With budget constraints, they really can't handle a lot of unexpected people. The best thing to do if there isn't an egg hunt in your area is to get together with those who run your community and organize one.  That way you're not burdening another place.

Yes, interestingly enough, it tends to be crazyass adults who screw up most holidays now. They get greedy for their kids, lazy about organizing things, or just want to call attention to themselves by bemoaning the fact that everyone else isn't fully and completely validating their belief system. I don't think we should let these people ruin things for us.  Holidays are to be celebrated.  Best to just focus on the brightly colored eggs and candy. Otherwise, the bastards will drive you crazy.

Naked Pictures

When my parents married, they got this wild idea that they would be antique dealers. I honestly have no idea how well this could have worked because they gave up on it.  They both had a good eye for stuff, so I'm guessing if they'd been able to stick with it, they could have been fairly successful. We'll never know though.

What we do know is that for a while when I was younger, say, less than five, they kept up a steady pace of buying and selling antiques. We had an unfinished second floor to our house, so most of it was stored up there. If my parents liked a piece and it went without selling for a while, they'd bring it downstairs and it would become part of our household furniture. This little system is what lead to me seeing my first porn.

My mother found a dresser she liked and brought it into her room. It was too small to hold both her and my father's clothes, and the old dresser was too big for just him stuff, so they switched the one in my room for the older one from theirs. I'm not sure why they didn't clean everything out of the drawers, but they didn't. With them you could never tell. Drunk. Stoned. Anyone's guess.

The dresser had really high legs and the bottom drawer was the only one I could access. I could open the second one, but not see into all that well.  I liked opening the dresser because it had hardware that looked like lion-faced miniature door knockers.  I was playing with the pulls and happened to drag the whole drawer out of its slot.  It fell on me.  I remember it hitting my leg and it hurting. The wood on the underside was rough and kept digging into my skin. I pulled it off of me and kind of panicked a little because I knew I needed to get it back in place.

This involved me pushing it slant ways and ass up back into position. Of course I didn't do this well, so one side went up higher than the other, causing my clothes to fall out.

But not just my clothes . . .

There was also a picture of my mother in the drawer.  She was sitting on the toilet with her shirt raised up and her breasts exposed.  You could also see her bush.  She was grinning in the picture like this was the most natural thing in the world. The strangest part was that I knew the bathroom she was in. It belonged to my great-grandmother.

I wiggled the drawer back into place, my head feeling all hot and strange.  Then sat down in the closet and looked at the picture for a long time. It puzzled me. On some level, I knew I wasn't supposed to see the picture, even though my mother's nudity was nothing shocking or surprising. She was my mother. Half the time, I still ended up bathing with her.

I didn't grasp the concept at the time, but the difference was in the context of the nudity. When I saw her naked, it was a matter-of-fact kind of thing.  In this picture, even though it looked like it was caught in the moment, she didn't just happen to be nude. There was a purpose to it.  I wasn't sure of the purpose, but I knew it was some grown up thing.  Finally, I pushed the picture back into the drawer and said nothing about it.

I'm not sure how everyone responds to seeing their first nude pics.  I'm guessing if it's the gender you're attracted to, it's thrilling.  Perhaps you don't understand why it's thrilling, but it is. When it's a gender you're not attracted to, and, in fact, your own gender, the reaction is a little more complex.  In a way, I found the picture to be violating.  She was, after all, positioned in a way that was usually reserved for very private time.  On the other hand, she looked happy.  Maybe this was something in which she found a lot of power. The smile didn't reach her eyes though. Her eyes looked nervous, angry.

Several years later, when I was at the house of a friend who lived with her single father, she showed me his porn stash. One of the magazines had a section where people would send in pictures of themselves . . . or maybe their husbands or boyfriends sent the pictures in. I don't know.  My friend thought it was strange that people would want to look at these average women when "the really pretty ladies who showed their kitties" were deeper into the magazine.

I got it though.  The "really pretty ladies" were paid to do this.  They had airbrushing and makeup and time to really prepare for it.  But the other girls had bad lighting and no retouches and only just their common, frank nakedness. The fact that they were "less pretty" might turn some people off, but I'm guessing more often than not, it was seen as a good thing. It made them more available. It made them more vulnerable.  It made them more accessible. At its core, the trifecta of porn IS availability, accessibility, and vulnerability.

I didn't tell my friend any of this. At the time, I really didn't have the vocabulary to do it. Instead I just shrugged and forced a giggle over the whole thing.  I also didn't say how much it disturbed me to see pictures of women as nude as my mom had been in that old photograph.  Like her, they all smiled at the camera, but only with their mouths.  Their eyes always told a different truth.

Technology Technical Errors

I somehow managed to screw up so much crap today. I didn't see two people's emails to me until hours past the point I should have responded. I feel bad about both because I kind of left them hanging at a critical moment.

I also misunderstood one conversation was between three people instead of two and said something that the third party didn't know. And, of course, I said it at a point when I could erase nothing. Dammit.  How does this stuff happen and all in one day?

Don't think I am blaming the tech. It's not the interweb's fault I can't notice who is involved in a conversation. That was completely on me.  As for the other two things, I have no idea what happened there. All I know is that I feel bad about all of it.  I'm sure it will all be handled though.

My roommate and I both worked on our bedrooms today. I unpacked a couple of boxes and moved some books in to fill up the top bookshelf.  We're in this mode with cleaning now to where it gives us a kind of joy to make it happen.  This is a very nice place to be.

I'm glad the week is over, but, aside from today's screw ups, it's been a really productive week for me. I did a lot of stuff and I'm so grateful for everything that happened. Here's hoping next week will be as good. . . . hopefully without me screwing up things technologically.

The Long Lasting Results of Random Acts of Kindness

My father's father used to do a lot of Spring and Summer camping.  Over the years, he's owned a lot of large and spacious RVs and tends to enjoy showing them off to people. He'a also an avid hunter and fisherman. He'd always catch a lot of fish, possibly more than any one human would need.  My grandfather is a very good cook and, quite often when he'd have a great catch, he'd start cooking the fish, making hush puppies, and turn the whole thing into a party.

When I was about 13 years old, my father picked us up for the weekend and took us to one of these parties.  My grandfather was camping at Wister Lake and in good spirits.  He even invited all of the other people who were camping to the party. I played cards with others. I sang with my dad.  I talked to people.  Mostly, however, I spent my time kind of secluded in a corner and read.

I'm not sure what drew the woman's attention to me.  To be honest, I can't even remember what she looked like.  I do know she set down by me and asked me about my book.  Ever one to enjoy talking about what I was reading . . . and also a little starved for attention . . . I smiled at her and began to tell her the plot.  She'd not read the book, but she seemed to enjoy what I was telling her about it.  She even asked questions to clarify what certain characters were doing and how then connected to the story.

I don't remember how long we talked.  Like I said, I don't even remember anything about her.  I just know the conversation happened and that I was happy during it. I felt smart and important.  I felt entertaining and charming. At that age, given my father's neglect and my mother's usual need for fuckery, any positive feedback from adults was always met with a lot of enthusiasm from me.

About a month later, Dad took us to see my grandfather at his house.  When we arrived, there was a paper sack sitting in the recliner.  The sack was brought to me and I was told that the woman I'd spoken to at the party had spent the next day yardsaling.  She happened upon a whole stash of books in the same genre as what I'd been reading. She bought them for me and told my grandfather to give them to me.

You know, I'm 38 now, but I can still remember how this made me feel.  I was honored. I felt magical. I felt just astounded that someone, practically a stranger, would think so much of me that she would do this.  I remember holding the bag in my hands. I remember pulling each book out and marveling at it like it was some kind of rare treasure. I felt so special.

Random acts of kindness are the greatest form of anarchy. I've said this time and time again.  That is only a small measure of the power of kindness though.  Random acts of kindness taken on their own immortality. They make a mark, a deep and lasting mark, in the lives of those touched by the kindness.

Imagine your life as a river and all your moments are the drops of water.  They're all there, all connecting, all small bits making up the greater Whole. When someone does something kind and loving for you, in this spontaneous, surprising way, it's like a deep marker is set in the river.  A place denoted for being significant. The water flows around this marker now. It's altered the path forever.

The gift of the books changed me.  I'm not saying the books themselves lead me to some fantastic ideas that became best sellers. It wasn't about the books. It was about the gift.  The gift made me more sure of myself. The gift made me more willing to open up to others.  Not because I thought I'd get more stuff, but because I knew what I had to say was entertaining to others.

I really wish I remember this woman's name . . . assuming I ever had it. I wish I could remember more than just how her voice sounded. I wish I knew something about her because I am so grateful to her.  Her gift was, and always has been, very special to me. A bag of books from a yard sale made a little neglected tween feel like the queen of the world. All these years later, it still makes me feel that way.

Synergistic Order and Chaos

Today was a day of order, chaos, randomness, and moments when things folded together. We started the morning by paying bills, doing our little rounds through the downtown. More shops are leaving downtown and we both think it would be cool if they restored the residential living areas above the stores and turned the shop levels into things to support that much residents. A small grocery, a cafe, etc. It would be cool to see a rather metro area in our little town.

When we arrived home, the house was still in a state of chaos. We ate in the chaos and talked about what would happen next.  Then the cleaning began. Trash was removed, the last final bits put into place, sweeping and vacuuming and dusting.  At some point, the chaotic room righted itself and became this new space.  It's so organized and clean that it doesn't even feel like any place I would live. Oh, but I do!

I had to witness and smell a very nasty infection on an animal today.  The infection is being treated and taken care of, but it's still deeply gross.  It was truly one of the worst things I've ever smelled in my life. Smelling and looking at it was bad. Far, far worse was having it land on you when the animal shook its head. This is me shuttering in revulsion.  At least the poor thing is on the mend.

Quite unexpectedly, I received some news I've been wanting to receive for some time now. I had no idea I would get my answer today.  As the answer was what I wanted it to be, I'm thrilled. I keep thinking about it and smiling. It truly is like a weight has been lifted from me. When I was reading the letter, I almost felt like I was floating. It's one of those moments I want to keep with me.

When we cleaned off the mantel, we put my grandfather's wind up clock back on it.   Since he died, it's been in storage because it wouldn't work anymore. Today, out of the blue, it began to work again.  The problem is, it's not working correctly. It ticks, but kind of fast. Actually, it ticks like it's on meth.  Because of this, the hours arrive early and incorrectly. It's annoying, but also absurdly funny. Every time it chimes, we start laughing because we have no idea how to fix the damned thing.

It's been a very productive day. It's also been a very life-altering day.  I'm glad it happened.  And now the clock is about to strike 8 . . .

Minor Chaos for Better Living

I decided it was time for me to change the header for the blog. It's been a while since I did that and the one I had before, while something I did myself, still relied heavily on Gimp brushes.  The new one was done completely with MSPaint and in under 15 minutes. I kind of hearts it.

I've decided that April will be a Month of Random for me. I may not always post on the blog what randomness I'm doing (kind of defeats the purpose) but trust, it will be happening. I think sometimes we all need more randomness in our lives. I think we need to take action, without planning, thought, or consequence, and just let everything fall as it will.

Does this kind of contradict prior posts about proper planning and being rational and logical? Maybe.  However, while I still do embrace the rational plan, I also know that, to a very large extent, circumstances have pushed me into a place where I fear the random, the spontaneous, and all forms of change.  I really do not wish to be that person.

Though I have to admit the random thing we did today kind of backfired on us.  We've needed to do some banking stuff for a while, but put it off because . . . well, a lot of reasons, really. Today though, with my new found desire for randomness, I suggested we go ahead and do the bank stuff.  I felt this rush of elation because suddenly, out of the blue, the situation would be resolved.

The problem was, I made this suggestion about half an hour before the bank closed.  We got in and took care of the business, but not without some stinkeye given our way from the bank peoples. Oh well. What to you expect, honestly?  Banks close too early anyway.

So anyway, yes, my minor chaos is just causing a small bit of alterations in the way I'm living.  Situations will be better suited to my needs. New colors will be there for me to enjoy. Certain problems, like the banking stuff,  won't be hanging over my head.  For all of this, I am thankful.

Philosophy of Inner Drives: Destructive Tendencies

I am a firm believer in Destruction.  While I have Will, am Creative, and tend towards some rather addictive tendencies where Preservation is concerned, I consider myself a champion of Destruction.

I'm not talking about self-destruction here.  Though, we all know I can do that quite well. Actually, a lot of self-destructive behaviors are not due to the driving force of Destruction, but from an off balance drive of Preservation. At least, they tend to be in my case.  No, what I'm talking about is the principle that things should end, things should change, and things should be driven apart.

As I stated when I talked about Preservation, I think we hold onto things for too long.  In fact, quite often we tend to hold them with a death grip.  We don't let go of the bad relationship, we keep trying to fix it.  We don't quit the horrible job, we just accept that it's the best we can do. We stay in fixed position, miserable, filling ourselves with cliches.  "The Devil you know is better than the Devil you don't." "Don't throw away a marriage. Fix it."

I always warn my friends about my advice giving. I don't, often, encourage people to fix things. Most often, my advice goes along the lines of "If it's not working for you, walk away from it." Quit your job. Change majors. End your marriage. People will tell me it's not that simple, and I know it's not.  At least I planted the idea though. Once we realize that we can end things, even if we don't quite see how yet, we begin to find ways to be able to do so.

As we live in a culture that values Preservation above all things, we tend to feel Destruction is almost taboo. I know people who would never consider divorce, simply because it can't happen for them. Yes. That is right. Even though it is legal and in many cases necessary, they are convinced it isn't an option allowed to them.

I believe that until you take ownership of your power to destroy a thing, you will always have a level of fear of that thing. Now, I'm not talking about shooting people here or even injuring them. I'm talking about the ways in which your life ties to theirs. Do you have an overbearing mother?  Accept that you can end your relationship with her and never speak to her again. You CAN walk away. Once you know you can walk away, you suddenly have more power in the situation.

Make a list of the things or people who make you the most miserable in your life. Then write down the length of time you believe they will be in your life.  After that, consider how long you truly believe you can emotionally handle them (it).  If the numbers don't equal, it might be time for you to start thinking about ways to walk out of the situation.

Sunday Night Observations

My roommate and I had a productive weekend. We moved about half a room's worth of shit to the storage building, disassembled and then removed another half a room's worth of boxes, moved six million books, moved two book shelves, sorted things, culled things, and managed to live through it all . . . mostly.

I've noticed when we make decisions about placement, we do so on the basis of some simple questions.  Does it function in the new location? Is is easily moved so we can clean? Can a cat knock it over?  Does it make the room feel better?  The answer has to be yes to at least three of those questions or the change does not happen.

In the process of being kind of harsh about this, we've made some actual progress on how the house looks. It is now going to function in a far more practical way. I'm hoping this cuts down on a lot of agita.

I started watching Downton Abbey this week and it's like crack. I love it SO much. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I started watching the third generation of Skins. It's faster form of crack where you end up puking on people by the end of it. Still wonderful though.

April, ever the cruelest month, arrived with hot weather and pollen. Than you very much for that, nutsack! I'm trying to keep the positives up about the idea of this summer being as mild as winter was.  Fingers and toes crossed.

In the meantime, things will continue to shuffle. I'm positive this is for the betterment of us all.