Something completely new for me… Just pics from the weekend.
Posted in Adulting, Awkward, Friends, Geek, Life, love, Magic, Mornings, Reality for the win, Spinsterhood, Traditions, Travel
I’m meeting someone to see a film with tonight and got here early. There’s a fountain across the way so I thought I’d write my blog there. Unfortunately, it has been overran with a massive amount of loud small people whose minder has to where some sort of badge. So rather than enjoying the sounds of water hitting the stone, I’m sitting across the way wondering just who in the hell sanctioned such an outing. Those children don’t even know how to play giant chess.
Directly in front of me is a car parked in a loading zone. The driver, I’m pretty sure, was consumed by the magical aura of this place. Or he gave zero fucks, parked there and ran into the Subway. Either or. If I could blow things up with my mind, I’d opt for his car. Not because I’m that much of a stickler for rules, but mostly with the wind, it’s a bit nippy in the shade. Also fire. So it may be a good thing I don’t possess such a power, and the car remains unenflamed.
The dude sitting on the bench next to the planter I chose to test my ass on has decided to walk away. I’d like to think it was because he heard my thoughts about blowing the car up. And he didn’t want to bear witness to my power. Or he could have gone to warn the driver of the car. That snitch.
all right. And that’s it for today’s observations. Person I am meeting apparently has arrived, and it’d be rude to blog in front of someone.
I’m a terrible sick person. First off, it takes me forever to admit I’m sick. I could be on death’s doorstep, and be like, “nah I’m fine”. Then I finally wake up one morning a puddle of sweat, snot and tears. And I can’t move. I can’t do anything for myself. Seriously, going to the bathroom is a struggle. Forget about eating or doing life in general. Hell! Calling in sick to work takes the wind out of me.I lay in bed all day watching the television and/or sleeping. But mostly hallucinating. Repeat this for a day or two, no more than that, lest I have to get a doctor’s note in order to make sure I’m legit sick and my work knows it. Because you know, why the fuck would they believe you?
I was sick last week. Hence the complete lack of blogs. I actually got sick on a Friday night, and then it continued for the next few days. Sunday night, I ended up in urgent care due to a high (for me) fever and trouble with being able to inhale. The doctor said it was a viral infection in my sinus and spread through out my respiratory system. Fucking everything goes into my lungs. Sonofabitch. However, silver lining, it wasn’t a heart attack nor pneumonia. There wasn’t even a hint of bronchitis. If I’m honest, I was actually concerned it was pneumonia. Thankfully, it was just the viral infection.
Today was the first day I went to kickboxing since the Friday I got sick. And apparently, the whole breathing thing is something that comes back SLOWLY. On the other hand, my sanity!!! I had to. I was going fucking nuts.(Poor my people who had to be on the receiving end of my neurosis.) It’s about balance, I guess. Also, I have plans the rest of the week, so this was my only opportunity to make myself feel like a bad ass. But I learned a thing or two about myself.
Okay, just one thing. I learned that I don’t “give myself enough time to heal”. I probably should have postponed returning to kickboxing another week, but as I mentioned before my precious bits of sanity. I also cleaned the bathroom when I thought I was well enough. I wasn’t. I may have hit my head on the sink. I may have needed a nap after wiping out the tub. I’d like to blame my mother for this endearing quality. The woman does the same damn thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve ripped her a new asshole for doing too much too quickly. So at least I come by it honestly.
Posted in Adulting, Culture, Family, Life, love, Musings, Ramblings, Reality for the win, Sick, Trauma, Words
A couple months ago I bought new socks. Star Wars socks. So, I had no other choice but to buy them. I threw them in the wash before I wore them, because ew. My dear mother, whom I love very dearly, folded that load of laundry for me. When I grabbed my first pair from the new packet of socks, I noticed that one sock was Yoda and one was Chewbacca. A weird combination, but you know, at the end of Episode III when Yoda’s saved. Or at least that was my thinking. So, I had that “pair”. It wasn’t until today when I was putting my laundry away that I realized I had two pairs of the Chewbacca/Yoda combination.
So, apparently when my mom was folding my laundry that time the socks were washed, she gave zero fucks about matching. I’ve washed these socks many times in the past couple of months. Never once did it occur to me that I wasn’t dealing with an actual pair of socks. I didn’t ever stop to think my weird pair of socks (which were completely different from all the other pairs in the packet) really didn’t make any sense. I mean maybe if Yoda were Han or Chewbacca were Obi-wan, it would have been much more logical. But no. The thought didn’t occur to me until I saw the 2 pairs.
Obviously, eventually I discovered the truth. It just took me months. Perhaps a little longer than it ought to have. I guess this could be an overarching theme for my life in general. Normally, I’m able to recognize the truth, but when I don’t, it takes me longer than it should to recognize it. The most recent truth I recognized in a slow manner, is that I don’t have to self-sabotage when something is going good for me. I don’t have to quit my job or do something to get me fired just after I got a raise. I don’t have to run out and find other guys, when I realize a good guy likes me and I like him. I don’t have to give up writing the story I’ve had so much inspiration for. I don’t have to do any other number of things whenever I’m afraid of losing something good.
I don’t even want to think of how much I lost out on because of self-sabotage. That being said, I’m glad I’ve finally come to this conclusion. I see the truth in I am worth more than what I’ve allowed myself in the past. And it only took me 36 years. Fine, fine, fine. I’m sure at one point in my life before this, I knew I was worth more than fucking up everything good. But I’m pretty sure on more than one occasion, I’ve heard “this is why we can’t have nice things” directed at me. I know there are those out there who are going to say, “You’re comparing your Star Wars socks to the habitual act of self-preservation?” And to those folks, I say, “Yes. Yes. I am.” Because Star Wars is life. Or because Star Wars socks are that amazing. You be the judge.
Posted in Adulting, Anxiety, Dating, Depression, Faith, Geek, Life, love, Magic, Musings, Reality for the win, Star Wars, Trauma, Words, Work, Writing
Okay. Not really. But as I was thinking for a title of this blog, I heard someone say this. Granted, it was on the internet and probably taken out of context. Still though… I’d like to pretend today was magical. I’d like to pretend that I got all my paperwork done. And I’d like to pretend all my clients showed up and magically, I was able to assist them all in seeing their paths or truths or what have you. Also, I’d like to pretend the food I ordered was already here and instead of this, I was stuffing my face with delicious delights from the local Italian joint.
In reality, today was quite drab. Yes, the sunshine was out. Yes, it was warm out. But other than that this Monday was the type of Monday that Manic Monday was written about. Yup, that’s where I’m at with this day. And once again, I’m not ungrateful for it, but I’m not exactly grateful for it either. I appreciate the world didn’t implode in on itself. I appreciate I was in contact with my friends. I appreciate that my fingers and mind are working enough for me to write this. But goodness, it was difficult to stay awake for a large portion of the day.
Oh food is here. I shall end this and stuff my face. Sorry so short, but ya know, food.
I kicked off my Saturday with cartoons. First it was Scooby-Doo then it was Looney Toons. This is the best way to start off any day, especially a Saturday. At least in my humble opinion. Normally, I set my alarm for the last second and in a robot-like state do my thing. I’m not even I’d be able to say what my thing is, because in the morning I’m just that alert. I know it has to include at least me getting dressed as I rarely show up to work in the clothes I fell asleep in. And sometimes it has to involve coffee because I have a coffee cup in my hand
I’m baffled at when my life became so grown-up. I mean even when I was working on my degree and then depressed, I still never just sat back and/or did something I enjoy. That’s right I totally enjoy Scooby-Doo and Looney Toons. Fuck! I enjoy most cartoons I watch. Give me Animaniacs and Recess, and I’m a happy camper. I actually laughed this morning. It was the morning. As in before noon, and I laughed. Several times. I may have fallen back asleep later, but still it was a beautiful way to start the day. So now I’m torn between the getting maximum seconds of sleep or do I make more of an effort to begin my day with something I enjoy.
Even when I was a kid this was the debate for me. Apparently, I’ve always been a “night owl” and preferred to “sleep in”. So I enjoyed the later morning cartoons as a kids. Bugs Bunny was usually playing when I woke up. Why did he always miss his turn at Albuquerque?!?! Regardless of he ended up in different times and places when he was trying to get to Palm Springs, laughter is a good way to start off the day. It was something that most American kids in certain generations seemed to know. Like it was Truth set in stone. Then somehow, we got away from it or at least I did.
Sometime, I let go of needing laughter to start my day. Responsibility crashed into my life in ways I couldn’t imagine. And it took some fluke to get me to watch cartoons this morning. To get me to laugh and remember. Yes, this is a good way to start the day. Maybe not as powerful as coffee, but good in a different way. With that. I’m bidding you a good day, dear readers. I’m gonna nap and/or watch some more cartoons.
So, as I mentioned in Monday’s blog, I’ve reopened an online dating profile. It happened because I was bored. I know I’ve also talked about accepting the mundane things of life, but this was different. The feeling that spurred me to recreate a new dating profile was more along the lines of “holy shit! Judging dudes based solely on their looks sounds cool as fuck right now.” It was that sorta impulse that led me to choose super cute pics and made an attempt to come across like a total freak. And before I knew I was swiping left like a mother fucker.
Much to my surprise first firsts since things ended with Hotty McHotster began to happen. There was the first first message exchange. “Your profile is totally entertaining. I wish more were like yours.” And of course there was the first pick-up line from a catfish. “Ur very beautiful. I would like to know u more. Pls say u want to get to know me too.” Except with more spelling errors and poorer grammar and more awkward wording. Then there was the first first request for my number or offer of number. “I think you should text me.” And eventually, there was the first first time I accepted some dude’s offer to text him and get to know each other.
I didn’t realize how much lingering lingerness there was from my last dating experiences until these choices had to be made. All the thoughts raced through my head as I tried to protect myself from making the same mistakes of last time. There were now many more considerations and refusals to engage with dudes. None of this was as apparent as it was when it came time for the first first date. Before, I would have been laid back and let the dude dictate what we do. It was my way of getting more information out of him. But this time… Nope. I was in control of the planning.
As it turns out, date was good but there was no follow-up. It did leave me thinking about a conversation I had with work mom. You know the woman I with whom I work who mothers me when it comes to my love life. She was great when I told her about everything that happened back in May. One thing she said stood out, “if you get sick on Indian food, you’re going to be wary of Indian food for a long time. It may go away. Or it may not, but there’s a reason for it.” Wise words from a woman who has been around a while.
Perhaps one day, I’ll be more casual with the planning. Perhaps one day, I’ll meet a guy whom I’ll trust to make plans. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. There’s no way to know for sure. So, I think for now I’m just going to enjoy the ride.
Posted in Adulting, Anxiety, Awkward, Culture, Dating, Dreams, Life, Lore, love, Magic, Musings, Ramblings, Reality for the win, Sex, Spinsterhood, Trauma