words

[Scene: curled up on my leopard print, sleigh couch; “Clarity” on the shuffle and waiting on my Lean Cuisine pizza]

I cannot remember the last time I felt as uninterested in my surroundings as I am at this moment.  Not just the place; this feeling…these thoughts.  It’s not at all how I feel under normal circumstances.

This evening brought about a question of my job (at the station).  Surely, it’s not as big a deal as I’m making it out to be.  It was a computer error and no amount of effort on my part could have stopped it.  When last I spoke to my boss about it, the outcome was “All right. Thanks, Girl.” which is a pretty good indication that all is well.  Still, it’s an unsettling feeling.  One which will make sleep nearly impossible, which is unusual for the setting.

I’m at Tiki’s place.  Because of my late Saturday/early Sunday work schedule, it makes sense to sleep here - a mile or so from work.  We get to catch up and spend some time before I [usually] crash hard into the soft pillows and warm blankets.  But tonight it’s different.

I’m unamused.  I’m unenlightened.  And worse, I’ve been sequestered to the living room, so she can have a late night phone conversation.  Fine, we’ve all had those.  Unfortunately - and not that it’s any of my business - the person she’s talking to is one whom I neither approve of nor care to ever encounter.  Fine, it’s her choice.  She’s a grown up and can do what she pleases.  Fine.  That’s fine.  I guess at this moment it’s just me feeling like I can do better and by that, so can everyone else.

So this calls into question my other choices.  Things going on in my life that make me happy, but may not be the best or most consistent way to be happy.  I look forward to every moment I spend - to every moment in life!  I know I, as everyone, will make my choices accordingly and as long as I’m not putting myself in jeopardy and everyone else can walk away sight unseen, we’ll all be all right.

There’s an easy fix to all of these thoughts.  There’s a way to get back to the bright, bubbly self to which I’m accustomed.  The real me.  It’s in my apartment.  It’s among my books and music.  It’s between every cushion; it resonates in every square inch of space.  It’s a happy energy that uplifts me everytime I turn the key.  It’s two kitties sitting by the door when I walk in.  It’s the smell of my incense and my perfume.  It’s the comfort of the walls, even when my rent is late.  It’s the knowing that I’m safe and sound and free to do as I please.  Just the thought of being there makes me happy…and anxious to be home.

Sadly, Dorothy’s trick doesn’t work on all of us.  So I’ll go through the night, work in the morning and again in the afternoon.  I’ll smile and I’m sure I’ll be fine by noon.  Tomorrow, this energy will be a short-term memory.  It’s not often that I go to sleep dissatisfied; it’s not often that I have to force myself to sleep, but if that’s all it’ll take to get back home…

*click, click, click*

Brain just kind of keeps going. I’m not looking - I’m not going to reread it. Sure, I could sit here and really put thought into these online words…but the truth is that I just want to rant! I don’t want to say anything of importance; maybe just a few things of note.

I live by myself.  There are several advantages to this, but the downside is clear: WAY too much time to be around, with your thoughts…in your head.  Tiny internal wars happen every day.  You can’t drown out your self with yourself.  Doesn’t work.  And getting out is always an easy fix, unless of course your means of transportation are temporarily prohibited [the sad result of an unfortunate incarceration].  Then, once you’re in, you’re in for the night.

This is good - if it’d been like this before the DWI, the DWI wouldn’t have happened.  But it sucks because you have to fill the space.  I’m not afraid of silence.  I’m all about some silence but conversation helps me; it makes me think less of myself.  I’d rather be involved in someone else’s life than endlessly think of my own.  I know what’s going on with me, thanks.  What about YOU.  I don’t need this much over-analysis.

When I’m not picking everything to shreds, I end up thinking mostly about sex.  It’s kind of ridiculous. I mean, surely we’ve all gotten off in the middle of a slow day once in a while, right? But damn. Of all the news and goings on in the world, isn’t there something better to think about than sex? Maybe…but maybe not.

…where was I going with this…

I bought a long, glass pipe [the “bowl” of which is a skull).  And the best part?  It’s pink!  And why wouldn’t it be!?  Girly Skull with fuck. you. up.  I got it in Mexico.  Oh, hadn’t you heard?  Yeah, I went to Mexico.  Spent all the money [purchasing mostly dresses that I can’t wear until next summer…damn perfect weather, making me think I was safe to wear halters forever!!].  I drank every night…and most nights pretty heavily.  Sure, there were some less-than-brilliant ideas, but everyone got home safely and that’s all that really matters.  I made friends!  There were five of us - we shared incredible times, all together, split into groups.  We had our own UN.  A table of foreigners (6 of them, Austria, Afghanistan, Denmark, Amsterdam, Israel…fucking nuts).

[20 minute stove top casserole time:

BOIL water. ADD tri-colored pasta and frozen veggies. COVER. SIMMER. DRAIN. MELT butter and stir in half & half. MIX in pasta/veggies. COVER. SIMMER (sprinkle cheese and mix in if you want…it doesn’t suck, that’s for sure…oh, and I added tuna, mostly just to make the cats jealous). ]

Ever stop and notice that you’re the chick at her apartment, two cats, tuna casserole and a sweater? No? Yeah, it’s an experience. I won’t die like this, I promise. No cat legacy will be left behind. I think women inherently have an idea of what a spinster/old maid would be like.  And no matter how far we come as individuals and as a gender, none of us wants to fit that image. It’s a scary prospect and I’ll have no part in its creation, thank you.

I feel the need to keep writing; like I’ve started this epic tale and I should keep going! Thanks for hanging in this long, by the way. I really will bake you cookies.  Not even kidding - send your address.  And not only because you’ve come this far, but that you’re now nearly obligated to finish it, in kind to getting cookies.

yes…that.

All right, maybe goodnight for now. We should do this again some time. Now if you’ll kindly turn the other way as I am about to murder this casserole.

What a free and wonderful country we have! All leading back to a couple-hundred years ago when a bunch of guys in wigs decided “We’re mad as hell and we’re not gonna take it anymore!” Excellent start for a country, I say.

But I think the idea of this day spans far beyond its beginnings. I won’t be getting hammered, pouring some out for my homie Thomas Jefferson. I won’t sing the National Anthem at the top of my lungs. I won’t think of history much, but my own independence…this day, reflect.

I’ve never been one to count on other people to take care of my shit. Period. Granted, my mom has helped me make rent a few times (whose hasn’t?) but I don’t expect it and never ask. I like to believe all this work I’ve done/all the work I constantly do will be enough to pay for my rock and roll lifestyle. Independence.

I do not believe there’s someone out there to complete me. No missing puzzle piece…no perfect match. I’m quite complete, thank you. I welcome others to challenge and add to the richness of my life, but believe that every part of me is already intact. Bless the hearts of those who search aimlessly, hopelessly waiting for their soulmate to come around make them whole! I created my own fulfillment. Independence.

I love my friends. Their smiles and kindness envelop me every day. The memories of fun and youth and carelessness; their attendance in my worst moments. I reciprocate as best I can but do not take for granted everything they give me. I do not impose; I do not ask anything but a word and a hug [if you’re into that kind of thing]. I offer my positive energy rather than weighing them down with my so-called problems. I don’t need them to fix me. I do not want to burden. There should come respect, not expectation. Independence.

When it’s all said and done, the truth is solitary: at the end of it all, I am left with my body and mind. If you have every part of yourself with you, imagine the strength that could come with that! Don’t spend time waiting for someone or something to come along and fill a void you convinced yourself of having. Celebrate yourself as a sole entity. It is your life.

Independence.

Let’s straighten out something really quickly; something that people seem to forget term after term after exhausting presidential term.  THE PRESIDENT IS NOT AN ELECTED KING!!  There’s a checks and balances system for a reason; as much as I despised G. Dubya and the decisions made while he was in office, he wasn’t the only one responsible.  There can be no one hand tied to bringing down the economy.  There was more than one person responsible for keeping us at war.  It takes a village to fuck up a country.

And sure, it’s easier to say it’s the fault of the president.  Who has time to list all the senators and house reps and governors and ill-doers?  Let’s say “Under this president’s administration…”.  Let’s say “The president has done this, this and this.”  But no!  It’s not the president.  I mean, obviously they’re involved in the many changes - good and bad - that can occur in four years.  But the point of our system of government is to keep the president from saying “Fuck you all - this is what we’re going to do”.

It’s the same story at election time.  We pick the candidate whose ideals best match our own.  We say “Wow, this is what I want to happen and this person’s going to do it!”  We get our hopes up; even those of you who didn’t vote for Barack have fallen victim to the hope and change that each presidential hopeful fills us with.  We want to believe in the implementing of change; we want to believe that a leader will come in and make everything better.

So we rally.  We debate.  We convince others.  We do everything possible to get our pick to the White House.  And when they get there we expect change right away.  We expect to wake up the day after the inauguration and see a whole new country!  Shinier buildings; happier citizens; no crying babies or barking dogs.

And every four years, we’re surprised when this doesn’t happen.

A president can only be as effective as his Administration will allow.  I of course bring up all or any of this because of another prime spectacle brought to us by Mr. Sean Hannity.  There’s a commercial breaker in his show that says something along the lines of Jimmy Carter being able to sleep better, having been relieved of the title of Worst President In History.  Cute.  But really, of only 2 years in office, can we even make that claim?  No, there’s plenty of time left to fix a few [more] things but that’s a rough title.

Meanwhile, ever since the Republicans took the house, anything that does or doesn’t get done from here on out - though it will be a direct reflection of Barack Obama - will be greatly due to the rules the Reps want passed.  They’re going to block him at every turn and no matter who is actually responsible for what happens, the president will - as always - be blamed for the happenings under his eye.

I’m not expecting that anyone - myself included - will start holding individual government officials responsible for the state of the Union. It’s a lot of work.  I’m not even sure of everyone’s names.  There’s WAY too much representation to get them all straight.  As nice as it would be to have a superman of sorts sweep in and save the day, remember that it is not the sole responsibility of the president to keep things running smoothly. 

[And no, I don’t mean this just in relation to our current president who, yes thank you very much, I am still proud to have voted for]

We have many years ahead of hopefuls, elections, triumphs and tragedies.  With so many differing opinions and ideals, this country has a long way to go to make everyone happy.  But when things don’t go the way we all hoped and planned it to, let us not forget that it’s not up to one man.  Washington’s full of decisionmakers, and so is the rest of the country. Instead of bitching and blaming it all on one, let’s recognize the evildoers and protest their assistance in our nation’s decline.

PS:  As far as Barack being the “worst president in American history”?  Thanks, Mr. Hannity for so brilliantly proving my opinion that you are a pompous, self-serving, do-nothing loudmouth who knows every way to disgrace those he doesn’t agree with, but no idea how to correct a problem.

SO, due to a few miscalculations and every financial institution’s desire to gain wealth by screwing its investors, I have a negative bank balance. Fine. These things happen. The bank did miscalculate themselves - or didn’t and hoped I wouldn’t catch it - and have assessed one more overdraft fee than was due. And come Monday, I will correct this error, which will bring me up to a five dollar bank balance…until Friday.

Now, there’s something to be said for money. It takes care of the necessities and vices that get us through our “troubled” lives. Fine. I can handle that. I could have been really bummed out; I could have had a fit or asked for help or done a number of things about this “desperate” situation. It made me feel much better though to go through my closet and get together some clothes, to donate to people who don’t even have a bank account to overdraft. Amazing what this does for one’s own well-being. Selfishly selfless…

So what do you do when you have to go without it? If you’re going to travel this path, let me make some recommendations:

1: Be sure one of the things you spent your last few dollars on was groceries.
2: Know how to conserve the things you really enjoy. This may be the week I quit smoking…
3: Stay on top of your bills; one less thing to worry about.

It works in my favor that the first two days of uber-brokeness will be spent at the radio station. Sometimes, 12 hour shifts are a lot better than they sound. I have hobbies and a newfound excitement about exercising again. Having things to do that don’t cost money - knitting, baking [sparingly so as not to run out of ingredients!], writing and talking to my mom - will make all of this much easier.

It helps that money has never been the reason for my happiness. Sure, when Christmas comes around and I get the distant-relative gift of green, it’s nice…but only for frivolous moments that capture us all! It doesn’t improve the quality of my life; just the quality of my closet and cabinets. I’m fine with getting by, so long as the needs are met. And they are.

It works in my favor that for some odd reason, a friend gave me half a pack of cigarettes earlier this week. They’re not the kind I smoke, so I put them in reserve. I’m smoking those over the weekend. Then I have about a half-pack of my brand that can get me through the following days. This will either seal or break my habit. And if I didn’t smoke, that’d be one less charge on my bank card [the most expensive pack of cigarettes EVER]. I’m almost hoping it breaks it. I almost want to smoke all my cigarettes or give them away just to do it…take the leap.

So it begins - the great cleansing. Let’s see if I can in fact live up to the minimalist existence I’ve so greatly boasted…

[ten bucks says I make it…of course, if I’m wrong, I can’t pay you til Friday]

stuffhipsterslike:

Your blog… ugh. i just, i cant even. it’s all so true. all like, eight posts you have. all true.

here’s something hipsters like: tumblr. and tea. and cats, and triangles, and skinny jeans with dress shoes and beanies. and high-waisted skirts with unknown/vintage band t-shirts tucked in. and TOMS shoes. that’s a huge one.

i should know…i am one. not that i’d ever admit that offline.

(Source: porterdolphin)

Pardon the pretentious intro but…I believe it was Freud who said there are no accidents. No one says anything of mistakes. Okay, I’m sure someone has said something about mistakes, but I’m going for a moment here.

People say they made a mistake but really, nothing is a mistake. For whatever reason, our actions seem valid and sound in the moment. Whether you listen to your mind, heart or any other body part [pardon the rhyme] whatever you choose to do feels appropriate in the moment. As it seems the standard of recent compaeison, my getting a DWI was not a mistake. Attempting to drive 1.5 miles home was no accident. I was sure it was a fine idea. Did it end well? Evidently not but my intentions and actions were intended. I thought - though inebriated - it would be a good idea. I’d made it before…why would tonight be any different?

And sure, things didn’t go as well as I’d planned, I knew the consequences and chose to attempt it anyway. In hindsight, people can find a million “mistakes”. But they weren’t. They were intentional.

Same goes for “misspeaking”. You don’t misspeak. It’s about interpretation. I may choose harsher-than-necessary words but the underlying meaning is the same. We mean it; perhaps misarticulate would be a more appropriate word but the message - in any form - remains the same.

While you can recognize the flaws in your decisions, they were made with the most honest of intentions. So forget trying to blame the shit on anything other than what it is: the humanity of us all. Who’s to say what is and isn’t “right” anyway? My mother would remind me that while I didn’t mean to do something, I didn’t mean not to do it.

So perhaps a little consideration should be taken at all times…and better that than recounting your so-called mistakes. Otherwise, let’s chalk it up to life decisions and call it a day. You aren’t doing anything wrong. You’re living and nobody gets a list of what to and not to do. Whatever happens, we’ll handle it and we’ll handle it better if we accept that our actions create consequence. No mistakes. Just choices.

You’re doing great so far! We all have glitches but we must own them. Calling then “mistakes” is a cop out. You’re a grown-up now. Grow a pair.

I like to think that there’s a legit reason for me to be on my laptop at Caribou.  I don’t have an internet connection at home and it’s nice to have “me time” to dick around on my computer.  I’m clearly not the first [or last] to set up shop for hours on end in a coffee shop.  We’ve all done it; we’re not above it.  And while I find myself gaining contempt for some of these people (from both sides of the counter) I realize that I’m no better.  Not by a long shot.

Because what am I doing?  Checking my Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, etc., trying to write a bit but getting distracted by the aforementioned social media sites, writing silly nothings to archive online, so I can share my opinions with the world, without request. These are all superficial things! How important could it be?  The internet in its entirety is all about self-promotion and instant gratification.  And I have to be a part of it; and I have to do it right now.

Of course we’re not just douchebags on our computers. It started with cell phones [which got smart, which gave us more to do on our phones]. I do miss the days when we could get together for coffee and not need or desire a constant distraction.  We used to converse and share stories; we used to do crossword puzzles, laugh, cry and have a noteworthy time.  A couple of years ago, we all got on Twitter. 

Then Twitter got too big for its britches.  Sure, it’s still fun.  When people post music and video links, they can be interesting.  Honestly, I check my Twitter [maybe] once a day and that’s quite enough.  I still use it for self-expression purposes. I still get really excited when I send a twoosh (for those unaware, this is a perfect-140-character tweet) and I have sent quite a few among my 12,000+ tweets. Some tweets are entertaining; a lot of things seem to be inside jokes and I’m fine with being out of the loop.  It’s a series of Facebook updates, without the unnecessary applications.

Twitter is another one of those things that could classify me as a douchebag.  Sure, I’m on it.  Yes, I was on it before it blew up.  Do I advertise this?  Not until just now.  But I am on it…and I was on it before it blew up. I’ve made some really good friends because of Twitter - I’ve been to parties/tweetups that people have come from thousands of miles away to attend. We’re all united by a common bond of having things to say to total strangers. And I talk about Twitter - we all do - and the things that I or my constituents have said. We didn’t land on Twitter; Twitter landed on us. And it’s probably not going anywhere anytime soon, so this is one of those things I have to appreciate about myself.

I have enjoyed Tumblr and I will even more once I get over this need to not write shit. A lot of the time when we create something, we don’t show it off for fear of what other people might say. And to its credit, these networking sites have helped us all come out of our shells. I’ve often described Twitter as socializing for the anti-social. I can’t imagine how many people have outed their personalities more than they would have, just because they finally had an outlet. And while I am outgoing enough on my own, it’s propelled my ego just enough to give my already ballsy behavior a little more testicular fortitude. It’s a positive thing, but what will we become?

We don’t even talk to each other anymore; we text which has spawn the further-bastardization of the language. But that’s a whole other blog.  I’ve come the point where I have to mentally prepare for a phonecall.  A fucking phonecall?!  When I was growing up, it seems my friends and I were always on the phone [on school nights, anyway - weekends meant fun things like movies and loitering] and for an absurd amount of time.  Not sure why but it seemed the right thing to do.  These were the days I knew all my friends’ numbers by heart and the only near-cellular device was a Zack Morris phone that came with a carrying case.

Now would be a good time to mention that I have succumb to the evils of “smart phones”. Kicking and screaming, I have been dragged into the Digital Age. The funny thing is that the hardest thing to do is make a phonecall.

So what will become of us? How much further can technology go? Plenty of people have suggested that one day we’ll have phone implants in our brains. I think it’d be great if the earpiece was in your thumb and the mic was in the pinky, just so we could make use of the age-old pantomime. Telepathic communication seems a better, more useful answer to the future. At the same time, you can’t count on speculation. According to The Jetsons we should already have flying cars.

We have a long way to go but at least we all have GPS navigation to help us get there. In the meantime, let’s continue our self-importance. Look how well it’s working out so far!

• There’s no “i” in rutabaga
• Nobody ever falls through a floor, anymore.
• Who the hell are these Boca Chik’n burger people to decide there was no “e” in vegetarian food? If this is always the case: turk’y, b”f, sausag’…
• Yep, I still hate Creed.
• When life gives you lemons, look life in the face and say “Seriously? How about being a little more helpful and giving me something I can use? A box of Cheerios? Maybe some new t-shirt sheets? Try harder. Thanks.”
• I always get En Vogue confused with Huey Lewis & The News.
• Just when you thought it was safe…it wasn’t.
• Pardon me, Mr. Tip. What does the Q stand for? [I would bet it stands for Quentin and furthermore, we probably just stumbled upon one of Mr. Tarantino’s high school monikers]
• Football isn’t homoerotic, but the commentators say some really gay shit.
• Very few things actually take a rocket scientist.
• Having your cake and eating it too is a nice idea, but really, how often does anyone have cake?
• Remember when the US was the only country who didn’t give a shit about soccer? Way to jump on the bandwagon, everyone. Glad this was a priority over learning the metric system.
• Are there any decimal systems you’re aware of other than Melville Dewey’s? Me either.

After a few days with minimal sleep, my happy ass went to bed after a steamy bath, at about 10:15 last night.  I wasn’t under the influence of any substances.  I hadn’t had too many crazy thoughts beforehand, so how I ended up with this, I don’t know:

I was having some party in my apartment.  A few random friends of mine as well as my roommate were there.  It wasn’t a huge party.  More a soiree I guess.  Anyway, my roommate brought his good friend Robert Downey, Jr. along.  That was fun for a minute or two.  While everyone was having drinks and listening to my record player, I was scrambling around trying to clean up the apartment.  I was still enjoying a few libations and having a fine time.  Then I went to my room to change into different jeans and a shirt - I was dressed in darker clothes than usual.  Amidst my rushing around, Robert Downey, Jr. and I had locked eyes a few times.  It was one of those weird moments where you’re both thinking “what the fuck are they looking at?” but then realize that you were both looking at the same time.

When I finished changing clothes and came back out to the living room, my roommate said “Yeah, Robert had to leave. He said there was something weird about you…he couldn’t handle it.”  Maybe not even weird; there was just something overpowering about me. It struck me as odd then and I said out loud, “Christ, how off-kilter do I have to be to make Robert Downey, Jr. uncomfortable?!”  I didn’t give too much thought to it after that.  I went back about my party.

Some “friends” of mine (in quotations because I don’t know who the hell they were) had gone outside and down to the lawn.  They were trying to climb back up.  Rather than throwing them a rope or a ladder, or even just letting them in, I jumped down to meet them and show them how easy it was to climb up to a second-story balcony. While I was climbing, my t-shirt and jeans turned into my new party dress, and I climbed to the top without incident…well, nearly.  Some cops drove up shining their spotlight.  I’d made it back up to the balcony before they noticed me.

My so-called [unknown] friends gave up and scattered.  My actual friends were still there though, so we kept partying.  I had a new light/air about me.  And who should come back to the party?  Yes, Robert Downey, Jr.  He apologized for his quick judgement and we started talking, never completely comfortable with each other but had a bit of fun. Then I woke up. Gads.