Sir Cuss A Lot

The chickens have come home to roost - I'm reaping what I've sown and this is some BULLSHIT! Why I can't ever keep stuff I like? Why I can't have no fun? Why is it that my joy must be wrenched from me all the time?

Here's the thing A lot. And I like it. A lot!

But at the prime cursing age of 46 I have to stop. I have to just stop cold turkey - can't do it a bit at a time. I can't slap on a UnoCussNoMo patch from the drugstore and wean myself of the urge to enhance my sentences with expletives. Why you ask?  Well, I have a three year old who apparently likes to curse too. Not a good look.

His dad does not curse as often or as colorfully as I do, so when Mason started letting them rip we knew I was the culprit. *Hangs head in shame*

I've even tried to downplay it to my hubby, saying shit like, "Man, that boy didn't say that. You trippin'. Well he has never said that in front of me. You need to stop lying on my baby........"  Well, no more. I'm busted.

Hubby's ass is out of town so we video chat with him. Last night Mason was talking to his dad and the flash suddenly went off in his eyes and he said, "Whaaaaat the fuck!?"  We "lost" the connection immediately, and when he called back I denied hearing any swear words. *Hangs head in shame again*

So now I have to give up cursing. And don't suggest I use those cutesy cuss words like "shut the front door." That won't work for me. I'd mess it up and say "shut the fucking front door."

Maybe I can I find a curser support group. Hi, I'm Angie and I like to curse.

 

 

 

 

Not The New Me

I found out some good news recently. I'm the new me!

Let me explain, recently I reconnected with a friend from my past. I had been estranged from this person for about 6 years. The break in our friendship was extremely hard for me. Our relationship had become toxic, and it was killing me. I was depressed, confused, sad, tired, and numb - all at once.

Now, let me be clear.....I don't think she was trying to kill me per say. But, she was killing me, because I was letting her. It was a co-dependent relationship, based on guilt, drama, and immaturity. Because of my own issues being friends with this person was the perfect recipe for disaster. I'm a caretaker. I try to fix everything.....make nice.....keep the peace. It's just who I am. It's what I learned to do as a child to deal with a dysfunctional home. But, in my adult life my propensity to put others needs and wants before my own became my undoing.

So, I put a stop to it. Well, let me be honest - I had to put a stop to "it" because I had began planning to put a stop to myself.  I got up, got away, got help and got on with it. And that shit was hard! The hardest thing I've ever done in my life. But it was worth it.

So when this old friend started exhibiting some of the same behaviours that drew me in and under in the past, I saw it for what it was. I'm not blaming her. She's a good person as people go. She just has unrealistic expectations of me - and she has no problem laying those expectations out. In the past I would try any way I could to do what was expected of me, and ignore my churning insides. I'd feel beholden to do what she asked of me because of things she'd done for me.

Well, no more. Not now. Not the new me.

I said, "No" The sun continued to shine, the Earth didn't swallow me up, hell, my stomach didn't even churn. I felt some kinda way about her asking, but more like "da hell?" than like "oh Lord, what am I gonna do."

And you know what!? She took the "No", and kept it moving. She met the new me.

To Do List

I tend to lose focus on things I need to do for myself. So ever so often I need to remind myself. Here goes!

1.  Stop reading EveryBodyElses damn blog every single day.
2.  Write on your own blogs more often.
3.  Take 30 minutes for yourself EVERYDAY.
4.  Go to church.
5.  Trim your split ends.
6.  Finish Work on one of your projects.
7.  Make a date with Mr Angie (get a baby-sitter)

That's enough.

Crazy Pink Guns!

Recently MyKiddo and I were talking about the possibility of me and Mr. Angie purchasing a gun.....safety issues, size, etc.  She suggested I buy a pink gun. Now, I'm pretty feminine and all that. However. A gun is not a barrette! It's a freakin' gun! Only you and the person you're about to shoot are gonna see it, right? I mean you don't wear it on a necklace or attach it to your key chain.

I want my gun to fit my hand and be reliable. Period. They can save the pink paint money and give me some free bullets.  

After the Rain.......

Yesterday, while driving home from the doctors office, I had a major breakdown. One of those boo-hoo, tears and snot breakdowns. My eyes were left red and puffy and my nose was raw and tender. It was all I could do to just to drive home.

I didn't get any horrible news from the doctor, just a litany of tests and new appointment. I wasn't the Dr's visit on it's on that caused the breakdown. It was just the last straw. This emotional break down had been building for a while now. I think it started with my birthday last month. I have never felt old. Ever! Thirty years old, no problem. Forty years old, no problem. Forty-four years old, problem!

I even spent all of my 42nd year thinking I was 43 (long story for another time) and that didn't bother me. But, forty-four has thrown me for a loop. The day of my actual birthday went to crap.  I got the usual happy birthday calls, but it just wasn't enough for me. The Sunday before my birthday Tipsy took me to breakfast at a really cool restaurant in Mandeville, and she bought me a very nice cook book. I was so grateful........she always makes a big deal of my birthday.  That helped, but I still felt uneasy in my heart. It seems that I've been on a declining slope ever since my birthday.

I've been sleeping a lot lately, which is a sign of depression for me. Negative thoughts have been dancing through my head now and then, but I had  been able to shake them off. But, on the drive home from the doctor's office, I could no longer contain myself. I started to think about at my age, my health, my lack of money and my parenting skills in a bad light. Just every single thing I thought of was negative. It was like the devil himself was talking to me.  I cried it out. I prayed. I called my mama. I cried and prayed some more. Then I went home and went to sleep.

Today is a better day. I feel rested and restored. I've given some thought about my "incident" yesterday and I've come to the conclusion that some stuff just had to come out.  The reason I couldn't be pleased on my birthday is because I DON'T WANT TO BE 44!  It had nothing to do with anyone else, it was all me.

I haven't been in therapy for about two years and I don't have an opportunity to share my feelings and fears often. I've gone through a lot in the past two years......moving from Ohio, having a baby, getting married and buying a house and then moving again, then turning one year from 45. Not having that "unbiased, outside" person to talk to has left me stuffing some of my thoughts and fears. Not good.

But, in my right mind I know I am so very blessed and I have so many things to be thankful for, a great marriage, healthy happy children and a family who loves me. I just need some help putting things in perspective sometimes. So, as part of my new Take Care of Angie First Campaign, I've made an appointment with a therapist.

Like I said before , "Today is a better day."

Too Cute to Breath

C-Pap Machine

About five years ago I was diagnosed with sleep apnea ( not getting enough oxygen while sleeping and tired during waking hours). I had to use a c-pap machine to help me breath while I sleep. At the time I was living in Ohio alone. I was so tired and sleep deprived I would have done anything to get some real rest. So, I used the c-pap every time I went to sleep, and it worked. Within a few weeks I felt rested when I woke up. It was great. Especially, since no one had to see me wearing it, except my daughter when she came to visit.

Then about 4 years ago I met Mr. Angie. We dated long distance for a year because he lived in Louisiana, and as I said before I was living in Ohio. When he'd come up there to visit for weekends I would forgo using the c-pap, because I would look like this :

And that was not the look I was going for, even though my mask looked more like this:

You get the picture. NOT CUTE!

I used the c-pap less and less between his visits, and pretty soon I convinced myself that I didn't need it any more. Yep, I was healed! I moved back to Louisiana almost two years ago, and my c-pap has been in the box I packed it in ever since. I became preggers after being home for only a few months. Subsequently, I had terrible nausea and vomiting the entire time. I couldn't stand to smell anything! So there was no hooking my self up to that plastic smell. And I was too sick to care if I was sleepy or not.

Well here we are today, and I don't give a damn about being cute! I need some rest. I went to the doctor today. He examined me and scheduled me for a sleep study. Which I will be happily attending. (A night away from the baby and an Ambian, thank you Lord!) I'll probably have to get a new c-pap because they've been upgraded a few times since I got the old one. 

I showed Mr. Angie how I look wearing the sleep mask and you know what, he was like, "Girl, ain't nothing wrong with that thing - you betta put it on so yo ass can breath!" Aww, isn't he sweet? And rest assured no c-pap face mask or tubes will stop him from trynna git some. o_0

Anyway, I got my mind right. I am not too cute to breath.  

.......But Gawd!

I visited a church today for the second and last time. After I went the first time I said I wasn't going back but I did anyway. I mean it this time, I'm not going back. The minister talks in this infomercial voice that I can't stand and they do a lot of "form and fashion" stuff I don't care for. When I say form and fashion, I mean, stuff for show. The "tithers" get to take their offering up to the alter, while the people who don't or can't tithe sit and watch. What part of the game is that? What, shame the non-tithers into tithing by singling them out? Hmmm, maybe some people tithe but just don't like to get up? Also, there is too much shit on their offering envelope for my nerves too. Tithe, offering, seed offering, debt free offering, and Pastor's love offering......stop it! Y'all gittin' six dollars, split it up however ya see fit.

Well, this morning I again promised myself, "No, you will not be coming here again, I don't care if you have to go to the Catholic church with Mr. Angie and do the up-and-down-on-yo-knees dance." Here's what did it, the Minister was hyping up the congregation with the ".......But Gawd!" piece. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this, it goes something like this, "I could have been dead sleepin' in my grave, but Gawd!" and on and on like that. The straw that broke my fat camels back was when Reverend Infomercial said, "I could be wearing my shoes on my head and my hat on my feet, but Gawd!"

If you know anything about me you know I laughed. Out loud. And my shoulders went up and down a lot while I laughed. I laughed so hard I had to take off my glasses and wipe my eyes. Yep, no more Reverend Infomercial for me. I can't laugh quiet enough for that foolishness. Your hat on your feet?! C'mon man! Really......you are doing to damn much to sound all old and religious. Your shoes on your head?  Again, C'mon man!

I used to go to church with my grandmother when I was a little girl, and there was this old deacon who would pray the longest prayer know to man every communion Sunday. He used to say all kinds of funny stuff in his prayer. My favorite was, "Thank ya Gawd for not lettin' my bed be my coolin' bowd (sounds like bode)." Even then I giggled, thinking, you have to cool off on a board when you die? Can't you just cool off wherever you die? How cool do you have to be before they can take you off the "coolin' board"?

See, I'm too silly to go to back to that church. If anyone knows of a good Baptist, Full Gospel or Non-Denominational Church in or near Slidell Louisiana, please let a sistah know. Clearly, I need Jesus. o_O

To Speed or Not to Speed

I've got a few hours to myself because the little man went to bed extremely early this evening, which means he'll be up in the middle of the night looking at me all crazy. But, for now I'm free!

I finally got my desk cleaned off and put my to do list and goals for the year on paper. Both are staring down on me from their perch on my bulletin board right now. I feel a sense of accomplishment just from getting them printed out and up there. My inspiration is, "And the LORD answered me, and said, Write the vision, and make it plain on tables, that he may run that reads it." Habakkuk 2:2

I am the runner. And I need to see it written plainly and run towards the vision and all that make it possible. I have to imagine myself running.....not waking, because only running relays the sense of urgency I feel about my life now. It seems like my thirties just flew by and next month I'll be turning 44. Hell, that's almost midway my life if I live to be in my late eighties (I'm hoping for 100). So, I have a lot of living to get done in this second act. I've got places to see and people to meet. I want to do and experience so many things while I'm able.

I read an article this morning about a new movement in "Slow Living." The point of slow living is to do everything on purpose and be conscious of doing it. For instance eating more slowly and enjoying the experience. Really paying attention to everything and taking it in slowly. I think that's an interesting concept. I'm surprised someone else has finally come around to my way of thinking about things. I like to pay attention to the little things and enjoy the movement of my life. I'm so thankful for everything in my life right now I can't even tell you. Many times every day I thank God for my life, my family and my friends.

Here's to slow livin'. I think I'll have a glass of wine and practice living slow.

I don't deep condtion my hair anymore.....

I've decided to stop reading other blogs so much. There are a few I usually read every day and as soon as I read them I'm sorry I did. Don't get me wrong their blogs are great....their lives are great. That's the problem. I feel totally inadequate and mentally challenged in comparison to these chicks. They cook, sew, direct and produce movies, go out to dinner and have drinks, deep condition their hair, know the latest fashions, work out, eat healthy, tweet, travel, down load pictures the same day they take them, and on and on.

I do not! I can't! Well wait, I can, but I can't right now, because I have a one year old baby.  I can and do cook, but it's not so enjoyable with a small person pulling on your leg and sometimes pulling your pants down (while whining). I can sew, but I have to do everything at night when the little prince is asleep - it's not happening during the daytime. I'd like to have dinner and drinks with friends, however I don't have a baby sitter and all but one of my friends were not crazy enough to have a baby at retirement age and they can go out whenever they want to. Uhh this is tuning into a rant....let me pull up.

Woosaaah.

I'm going to have to find some blogs for stay at home moms with small children. I need to see some other women with boogers and breast milk on their shirts. It's sad, but yes I need to see other women with the same struggles I'm having right now.

My little man started walking yesterday and let me tell you.....seeing him reach these milestones make all the rest of this worth it for me. His funny teeth and silly laugh keep me off the ledge. So, bye bye fashionista blogs, and blogs about fly women doing it up big. Hello to mommy doing it up small blogs.

Cafe Au Coocoo

Insanity: Doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result than previously witnessed. **

I stopped at the gas station filled my tankand purchased a cup of coffee on my way to work this morning. Sounds simple enough doesn’t it. Not so much. I knew better but I did it any way. Never believe the “decaf” label on the carafe. It is a blatant lie. The people who make coffee at these places probably brew the same regular coffee and put it in the decaf carafe. I hate them. I think this happens at your local greasy spoon as well. They probably don’t think it’s a big deal. For those of us who should not have caffeine it is a very big deal.

Caffeine makes me shake and cry. Yep, you read it right. My hands shake my heart races and I cry. I’m not sure what the crying is about. I understand the caffeine elevates my blood pressure and causes my heart to race – but the crying, who knows.

Anyway, I frequently risk drinking something that will completely unhinge me.

I put my physical/mental well being in the hands of the dishwasher at the Stop & Slop. That’s how make the coffee at those places, the guy who also sweeps. He ain’t reading the packages, he couldn’t care less if it’s caffeinated or not.

MyKiddo and Tipsy laugh at me when we’re out somewhere and I order decaf coffee. If the coffee looks suspect, too dark, or smells really strong, I question the waitress about it. “Are you sure this is decaf?” To which they always respond, “Yes maam, it’s decaf.” Hairnet wearing liars!!!!!! I can’t comfortably drink the coffee after this exchange. I look at it, stir in loads of cream and sugar and sip some. I never finish it…..not even half of it. C'mon people give me real decaf!

I know this insanity is self-inflicted. I realize that. But I continue to order decaf coffee. I do it because I like coffee and I don’t think it’s such a big deal to brew a pot of decaf - and I want some!



**(I don’t know who the hell the author is, but I’ve hear it a lot, so I‘m using it!)

The End of Auto Pilot

For the past year or so I've been coasting. I've been floating on whatever winds that blew through. Winds of change,physical frailty, financial lack and mental fucked-up-ness. I've used this coasting as a means of survival, and it has served me well. I've used coasting to float through situations that were to painful for me to face. I've used it as a means to transport my mind from my reality to a more pleasant place. I've got coasting down to a science.

Here's the thing about coasting, if you do it long enough you may forget how to "not coast." Now don't get me wrong - I've always done what I was "supposed" to do. Coasting never prevented me from keeping my obligations. But it has been useful to tint the hue of my rose colored glasses a little darker. I convinced myself that I was doing what I had to do to get through. And maybe that's what it was at first, but somewhere along the line it changed. At some point I stopped facing problems, or maybe I never learned how to face them properly.

Here's what auto-pilot looks like. If/when faced with a problem, uncomfortable situation, work around it. Take the path of least resistance. Work harder. Don't say "no". Suck it up. Remember you're strong enough. You are in control. Just keep plugging along and everything will be fine.

Well, as you may well know all of that is bullshit.

Sometimes it's necessary to face your situation. Take an honest look at it and at yourself. Accept that you cannot control everything all of the time. That sometimes you need help. That you are not perfect. That you are fragile. That you may fail. And that all of the aforementioned are is okay. It's not great, it's not fair, it's not pretty and it's damn hard. But it's okay.

Auto pilot off, wish me luck.

Handy Wipes?

Let me just say I'm desperate. I'm at the library checking emails, surfing and blogging. I'm sort of a germaphobe so this is not a good experience for me. I want to wipe all of this shit down with a disinfectant cloth. The little timer at the top of the screen is ticking away so I'd better hurry. LOL

Lately I've been readjusting to life without Mykiddo - and getting back into the swing of things. After my latest health scares I'm happy to be in one piece. So the girl is gone off to college. Ya'll I'm too young to have a kid in college. I feel like a kid myself. Her old piece of a daddy didn't come thru for her AGAIN. He was supposed to take her and her stuff to school, but he did not. I'm not even going to get into that - except to say, I want to whip his ass.

School starts for me in a few weeks so I'm geared up for that. I'm ready for some normalcy.

Well, I need to go and read Yall's blogs, cuz I miss em.

Are There Any T.C.P. Speakers In The House ?

My favorite movie in the world has crept into my everyday language? Not just me, some of my friends and family members have been dragged down the path of The Color Purple talk with me. I wonder if there are others out there?

We do it so much I sometimes forget that the dialog is from a movie.....weird hunh?

When Tipsy is trying to dissuade me from having a baby at the ripe old age of 110 like she did, she says, "Don't trade where I been Miss Celie!"

When Spunky reminds me of something I said I would do, and I no longer want to do it, I say, "Ain't no sucha thing paw!"

When MyKiddo gets close up in my face, I say, "You sho is ugleee!"

When a male friend invades my personal space without being invited, I say, "All my life I had ta fight!"

See how this works? There's more.

When my sister and I see each other at the airport and other venues after a long separation, we scream out, "Celie!.......Nettie!" (I'm Celie, she's Nettie) And then we run into each other's arms.

When MyKiddo is feeling silly, she puts her hands on both sides of my face and says, "Mamma, boonie mama......"

When my sister is aggravated about someone giving her unwanted information, she says, "Mary Agnes, ......Mary,who gives a damn!"

When indicating about to get into some type of ignorant altercation I say, "Take my cherrin home, git my chirren outta here!"

When I see a man that I think should like me and he's with another woman, I say, "She don't look nuthin' like me!"

When someone is talking mess and I just don't want to hear it I say, "Shut up you ole fool, Sophia home now!"

Best of all when I see a child acting out in public, I walk right up next to the parent, and under my breath I say, "Beat her." I love that one. It's good for when anyone is acting out. Just say, "Beat her", even if it's a man. Paaaahh! Haaaaa! Haaaa!

If you are a fan of The Color Purple you understand how fitting the above statements are. If you're not - get the movie and practice. It's good to be bilingual.

Please Don't Shoot Me White Lady....

Did you know that White people are allowed to do whatever they want to at work? They can have a nervous breakdown on Monday......personally call everyone in the office on Tuesday and say all kinds of completely crazy shit........have their spouse call and repeat said crazy shit the next day.........resign....okay training for their replacement........send out "it's been nice working with you all" emails on Thursday........and then RETURN TO WORK ON MONDAY LIKE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!!

Who does this shit?!? Only White people!

We all know that I'm as crazy as a box of rocks, however, I know damn well not to let the crazy rocks spill over at work. Black people know how far to take the "crazy." I know the moment my crazy rocks fall on the floor beside my desk there will be a pink note handed to me. It will be hand delivered - no inter office mail for that shit. The delivery will be executed by Office Security. In addition to handing me the pink note, they will hand me my purse and tell me to get the hell out!

Since the "White and Crazy" is my supervisor - the situation is effecting me directly. She vacillates between hosting meetings to lay down the "new law" and crying hysterically. Senior management is either afraid of her or they don't give a damn. So, I'm finding alternative ways to get to the bathroom that don't include passing her office door and mapping out an escape route in the event she comes in shooting.

It sure must be nice to be a white woman.

Watchoo Lookin' Fo

You know that feeling you get when you're looking for something. For instance, you misplaced your keys - and you're ready to leave the house. You search for those keys with micro-intensity. You narrow your view, honing in on places you think you may have placed your keys. First you look in the obvious places, the table near the door, the counter top, your pockets. After you don't find the keys in the obvious places you start to think of less obvious places. You check the outside of the door, maybe you never took them out of the lock. Nope not there. You retrace your steps, you look in every room you've been in. You look in the refrigerator, in the laundry room, under the beds - even though you have no memory of going near these places with your keys. You'll take'em any way you can find them at this point.

Once you have searched everywhere you think your keys could possibly be - you just stop and think. You stand still and you think to yourself,"the keys have to be in here somewhere. I used them to unlock the door when I came home!"

Right there! That sense of "where-the-fuck-is-it-ness?!?" That's the feeling I'm talking about.
That is exactly how I'm feeling right now. But, I'm not looking for my keys. I'm looking for "my real life."

Okay, I know this sounds crazy- but I'm looking for the physical manifestation of an image in my mind. The image of "my real life" is tranquil, and serene. No worries. Content. The image is of me sitting somewhere, I think I'm on a porch, or on a lawn. There's a lot of lush greenery around me. It's really pretty. But it's not the beauty of the place that makes it so appealing. It's the feeling that I have when I'm there, it's so absolutely fulfilled and peaceful, it blows my mind! I'm not thinking about bills, Mykiddo, relationships, family stuff, or health issues when I'm there. I feel totally cared for and loved when I'm there. In this image, I have the house I want,

Let me pull up a bit and give you some background on this thing. I moved away from my home in Louisiana three years ago to start a new life in a very different place. I chose Columbus Ohio. I wanted to finish school and make more money. I wanted to free myself from the obligations that go along with living near close relatives. I wanted to experience another city - to see the seasons change. On my own. And for the most part I'm doing exactly what I set out to do. I'm in school, I'm working, and I'm on my own. I'm all on my own.

But, here's the thing, I want to go home. I miss my family and my friends. I miss seeing people who look like me and sound like me. I miss the "familiarness" of home. I miss the ruckus, the festivals, the food and the smells. I even miss the dirt.

Even with all of that, I don't really want to go home. I'm just impatient because I haven't found "my real life" yet. I was looking for it when I moved here. I think I've come closer to it. But, no cigar. Not yet.

So, I'm still looking for "my real life." What are you looking for?

I'm A Frutter, He's a Frutter........Wouldn't You Like To Be........

At a certain time every month (right now) I have this incredible craving. I want to have sex! Lot's of sex. Stoopit, sweaty, monkey- love sex! The kind of sex you look back at and think, "Damn, did I really do that?" You know the kind I'm talking about? If you're not sure let me try to refresh your memory. If you've ever been driving, sitting in church, or grocery shopping and had a flash-back of an "encounter", and you literally shook. You know, jerk your back a little bit and tighten up "the muscle." You then had to shake that shit off and look around to see if anyone noticed, and smile to yourself. If you've experienced any or all of the above you know what I'm talking about.

During this craving period I experience what we shall henceforth call Frutting. The term is derived from the words freak and rutt. Freak: one who is unusually skilled or talented in a particular area, ie. sex. Rutting: an annually recurring condition or period of sexual excitement and reproductive activity in mammals. Some of you, my sister and Tipsy included, may think the term frutting sounds too animalistic. But it best describes the way I feel, like an animal.

When I'm in frutt I want to call ex-boyfriends, ex-husbands, and people I would never call when I'm not in frutt. Men I wouldn't normally give the time of day to begin to look real good. The African bootleg CD salesman outside of the grocery store starts to look taller and less ashy. I scroll through my phone - looking at the prospects. Ladies and gentlemen let me tell you - the prospects are not looking very good right now. I'm not dating anyone seriously - and I'm not into casual sex. In case you're wondering my "toys" are of no help when I'm in frutt. I want the real thing!

I can't wait until I can roll over one morning and tell my husband, "Baby, you can't go to work today, I'm in frutt!" Until then, I'll continue to cross my legs a lot, take cool showers, exercise and try to stay busy with other activities to take my mind off the situation.

None of that shit works - but I try.

Let Me Tell Y'all Bout Some Hard Shit

There is a saying that goes something like this, "doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity."

Trying not to be insane is difficult as all get out! Okay, your brain has been conditioned to take in information and respond to it in a certain way. This conditioning stems from nature or nurturing and experience. I've learned that my conditioning is faulty - and should be upgraded to a less retarded model. A positive model that would support the wondrous person I am - and am becoming. So, I've been working on it. Baby steps.......crawling.......baby steps......laid out on the floor scooting on my belly........baby steps. You get the picture.

I had just started feeling like I had the hang of it. I was up to regular steps and then it happened. BAM!!! I was faced with one of those situations where you are supposed to use the new stuff. Think, only deal with truths....blah....blah....blah. Don't listen to the old voices, just the new affirmations. Ha!!!!

I failed miserably.

I felt my self slipping, but I couldn't stop. It was like going down a water slide head first. I couldn't think straight - speak straight or be straight. So much for dealing with truths and mantras and shit. I just wanted to go home and go to sleep. In fact that is exactly what I did, after crying myself into a swollen eyes and a puffy face monster.

When I woke up the the next morning the situation didn't seem as bad as the day before. I realized that I did do better than I had before - I hadn't done the best that I can and will do - but I did better than I had done before.

I plan to keep trying.

This live your "best life" shit is harder than Chinese arithmetic. But living your "bad and damn near worst life" isn't a bed of roses either. Yes, I'll keep trying.

Proclamation Of Ignorance

How old where you when you realized you didn't know as much as you thought you did?

When you realized all of the self-righteous, self-important pronouncements you had made about people you know, places you've been and things you've seen - was bullshit.

When you realized you don't really know what you want, and more than half the time you do not know what the fuck you are talking about.

Count it 40 years, one month and 2 days for me.

Today is the day I make my proclamation.

I don't know shit.

There, I said it.

Sometimes I get what I thought I wanted, it's not quite right and I don't want it.

Even when I think I know what to do, I'm just winging it, because I don't really know what to do, except to do.

Just when I think I have my wispy fly-away emotions under control - I implode, and am left to take to the bed until I can do.

Around the time I think I'm okay with me, I become distracted and obsessed by my too fat top half and not fat enough bottom half.

I don't know where home is anymore - and I don't know where I want to make a new home.

I thought I could work full time and go to school full time. Half the time I'm so tired, I wish I would get hit by a bus so I could have an excuse to be off from work and school. That way I could sleep a lot and no one could judge me for be the fuck up failure who just wants to sleep.

I thought I raised My kiddo to be independent and self-sufficient and level-headed. As the time quickly approaches for her to leave for college - I fear she may forget to go to class and be enticed to join the circus.

I don't know shit!

I'm amazed that I've gotten through 40 years without knowing anything.

It's a wonder I even make it through the day.

In a way, this proclamation has liberated me. I'm not sure how - because I don't know shit. But I think it has. Well, maybe not - I don't know. Shit!

I just got one bad habit only one bad habit.....

I do this thing that I know I shouldn't do, however, I am unable to stop. I guess it's just the way I'm made up. Here's the thing I do - I believe that people are generally good. That they are usually telling the truth and that they will not do to me what I would not do to them. I have been proven wrong God knows how many times, yet I continue to think this way. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not stupid. I just expect the best of others. Now, when I find out they are not what I thought I have no problem dealing with the facts. But - I just hate that I go into situations giving people the benefit of the doubt. It seems that people who are suspicious and jaded have it a lot easier. See, even now instead of thinking of those people as reasonable and level headed, I think of them as suspicious and jaded. I need to get to a middle ground. Glean from both sides if you will. I'd like to not take people at their word so easily. This does not only relate to relationships with the opposite sex. I wish I could read other blogs and think *some of that shit ain't true, he is exaggerating or she ain't that damn hard - it's easy to type it, walk it - not so easy* See what I write, say and live is just me. I don't clean it up. I don't exaggerate it or water it down, so I think others are doing the same. This leads to a great deal of disappointment.

I've been thinking about this for a few days and I just needed to put it out there.

What Men Really Want...........

If you follow my directions to a "T", you are guaranteed to acquire the man your heart desires. I have done extensive research and these results are tried and true. I have spoken with both sexes, taken polls (not poles : ) ), and I've compiled the facts for your edification.

Ready? Here goes.

Men want you to lie to them. That's right boys and girls they do not want you tell the truth. Don't even whisper it! They don't want you to;

ask what you want of them. They'd rather you play games, trick and connive to get what you want from them. Ask for hundreds of dollars for pretend pregnancy terminations when you want to go shopping, or need to pay a bill. You can use this over and over. That way they can call you a "trick, or gold digger".

ask them for what you want in bed. They'd rather you fake an orgasm or just shut the hell up. God forbid you tell them what you like, unless it's the exact same shit that they like, their feelings will be hurt. You will have stepped on their manhood. Either wait until you are alone and handle your business or get "some help". I'll let you figure that one out.

tell them what you really think about their, boys, mother, or wardrobe. This one is self explanatory.

be sensible and talk a situation out. They want you to cut up and act a fool. They want you to show up at the club, break a beer bottle on the bar and hold it underneath their neck while you curse and threaten them. Now he can call you crazy. They love crazy. They keep crazy women around for ever!


NO telling the truth. Try it. Let me know how well it works for you.