Has Anyone Seen My Two Feet?

I have completely and overwhelming lost the ability to stand on my own two feet. I am not sure if they were kicked out from under me by someone or what the deal is. Did I ever once use my own two feet to stand in the first place? Maybe not.

My internal alarm clock goes off at 4:45 am…apparently, regardless of what time I go to bed. However I have absolutely no idea what to do once I’m awake. School work would be the wise choice, yet I still don’t have my textbooks…which makes homework difficult.

I could play with Awesome, but he goes right back to sleep after breakfast.

I could get stuff done around the house, but I am not even sure where to start or what to start.

I could work on editing stories or writing new ones, but by the time I get set up and in the process of zoning out and into the story my time is up.

Additionally because I have to eat as soon as I get up, by about 9 am I’m ready for breakfast again, even though I already had breakfast.

I am getting in “moods” which carry over into everything I do throughout the day, I’m frustrated, lost, upset, emotional, undecided and confused. And that is all before lunch!

I am supposed to be standing on my own two feet but I can’t even seem to find my feet or the ground to stand on. And I cannot blame the east coast earthquake, because…

A) I don’t live anywhere near there.

B) I grew up with earthquakes and really can’t use them for any excuse unless I spill a drink.

Lately even Awesome has been giving me the “get with it Mama” look. It looks a lot like the feed me, play with me, buy me more toys look, but I know what he means.

So is there an age limit when you should know how to stand on your own two feet? (Fingers crossed that it’s a very very very high number)

Dear Costco

Dear Costco,

It has been a while since my last letter to you, I’ve been busy. A few days ago I had the pleasure of being in your store, yet I have a complaint. Somehow I ended up with the worst shopping cart in the entire store.

As a petite woman I already look ridiculous in your store of mega size items, most of which I can’t even get a grip on as they slide to the floor. However, I usually go with The Husband, but this time I went alone. So added to my pettiness was this awful cart! It didn’t steer where I need it to, then as I piled items into the cart it got worse. As I rounded every corner I made a face, which all the guys in the store either took as A) feel sorry for the petite chick trying to push a cart that is clearly bigger and heavy then her or B) they enjoyed what they thought was a sex face expression.

The worst of it came when I tried adding a 40 pound bag of dog food to the cart, as I shoved my foot behind the wheel to keep the cart from moving, I think I might have pulled something. Then there was a point when I couldn’t get the cart to stop fast enough and nearly took out a nearby child who insisted  he get the 800 pack of chocolate milk and that flailing his arms around would help in the matter. His mom didn’t seem to mind that I almost cart-killed him.

In closing I will say that while I respect your store and your ability to make me buy things in packs of ten, the carts need to be reviewed, take them through some inspections.

Sincerely,

What Is With The Mini Size Candy Bars!! That’s Just Rude!

We Won’t…But Not Because We Can’t

I was laying in bed this morning, thinking about the Saturdays I had as a child, which lead to any day I had as a child. Days when I could go outside my house, sit on the sidewalk and some kid from the neighborhood would come up and ask me to play. Or ride our bikes to Thrifty’s to get a double scoop ice cream cone. Back when pop cans in your bike wheels and slip-n-slides were popular.

Back when “don’t talk to strangers” really meant “don’t talk to someone who is not in you neighborhood or the next 5 neighborhoods, but that looks creepy and lonely and might be carrying candy.”

About once a month my father would take me for a half day at the airport. We would go and watch the planes land and take off, ride the little monorail that went around the airport, then have some lunch and go home. Simple, cheap entertainment that only required you passed through a metal detector. (Of course you can no longer do this).

What do we do now with our kids over the weekends? Sports games, sports games, sports games, TV, TV, TV. Some are stuck trying to entertain their kids while others are so busy shuttling them around that they don’t even know when the weekend starts and ends.

The Husband, Dog, Puppy, and I recently moved into a house built in 1979. Which means it’s in an older, developed neighborhood, one without playgrounds for the kids on every street. I assume there are kids that live on my street, although I wouldn’t know. They are not outside with sidewalk chalk or riding their bikes. Of course the Husband and I disagree on this…kids playing out front instead of out back. Well my reasoning is two things: 1st how do kids know there are other kids in the neighborhood if they all play in their backyard? Back when I was a kid we all went to the same school and we all played out front. Now one kid goes to public school, one to private, one to charter, and one is home-schooled. 2nd People should really not be driving 45 miles down a neighborhood street. You are more than welcome to drive 120 on the freeway, but you best drive less than 25 in a neighborhood! Regardless, the Husband, believes kids belong in the backyard.

Anyway, I’m getting off track. So our new neighborhood is quiet different from our old neighborhood. It has that cozy-friendly feeling, even if I have yet to meet anyone like Husband has. The house has a lot of charm, regardless of all the current chaos. Frankly it reminds me of my childhood, my life in California and my trips to Minnesota. Which is what brings me back to the heading of this blog post.

We can be more friendly, more helpful, more connected to others in our neighborhood and in general. We can spend more time outside and (yes I know blogging is apart of technology) less time sitting in front of the computer/TV. It does all have a “trickle down effect” on others. In this neighborhood it should be easier to be…how it used to be…although probably not.

But hey, maybe I’ll meet some of my neighbors when their kids come around in March for Girl Scout Cookie sales.

The Cringing at, and Anger Towards an Acronym

That’s correct, I can use those words all together. If you knew, you would understand.

I’ve fully emerged myself into a world which revolves around acronyms and I never once thought one in specific would cause me such tension, anger, frustration,  fear, and even a slight hatred. Of course I can’t reveal the acronym which causes me such pain, so you will have to go on guessing forever, but I will humor you nonetheless.

At first it came as a surprise that said acronym would cause whiplash stress in my neck muscles, maybe it is some form of PTSD (for all the medical people out there, don’t give me crap, I know what PTSD is and I’m only making a point), although I must learn to live with it, as this is how it will play out, although hopefully not every time.

My main concern for stress was focused on two AKA people, this is probably the least of my “ability to get along with concerns” at this time.

As of Monday I was only slightly bothered by said acronym, then as I stewed over it, the growth of anger worsened, by mid-week I was pleased that I was feeling better about said acronym and our new meeting. But then, as I had time to digest, sleep, and report on said acronym, I realized how upset and angry the situation had developed into within me. Just the thought of having to deal with said acronym makes me cringe.

I look back and don’t feel I could have done anything  differently, and I am finding it hard to know what to do at this point. It’s not a hopeless feeling, but a desire to breakdown, if nothing else than to try to release the ongoing stress of said acronym.

Whatever the outcome is….TTYL

How to be Fabulous…I got this one SpyHedi (wait, does anyone even still know you?!)

Rule #1 So you want those fancy, expensive Christian Louboutin pumps…how about picking a pair of heels up at a store, then running over to the drugstore and purchase some flat red nail polish. And paint those new pumps to look just like Christian Louboutin heels!! Did you know he actually did this himself and that is what started the red bottoms??!! (Snagged his secretary’s nail polish as she was painting her fingers at the time.)

Rule #2 So you got a gift for someone, jewelry perhaps…How about you got it from Tiffany’s, okay so you didn’t, but you can pretend you did. Spray paint the jewelry box in Tiffany and Co. baby blue. She will be so excited to see a little blue box, she won’t even notice the difference.

Rule #3 Act like you got it all, flaunt like you got it all. You can do this by shopping at Ross, Homegoods, TJMax, etc. But once you get back to the car, you switch out the bags with those fancy nice bags you have saved someplace in your house (and put into the car before you left for the stores), the ones from Victoria’s Secret, Dillards, etc and dump your new purchases into the fancy bags. When you arrive home you’ll be walking into your house with high-class bags. (Use the plastic bags from the stores, the ones you shoved into your purse, to pick up dog poop.)

Rule #4 Don’t be afraid to sign up for crap on the internet, shopping crap that is, membership shopping crap. Set up a separate email address to control and organize your life. Check out     Gilt.com    ideeli.com    RueLaLa.com

Rule #5 Purchase flowers that last. Simple and easy. When you buy the beautiful roses they last for a week…tops. But potted plants for inside and outside last months.

Rule #5  Hit up your library for those glossy magazines. Most local libraries carry magazines like InStyle, Self, Travel and Leisure, Glamour, and Architectural Digest. Save yourself the $5 you would’ve spent and still feel rich as you flip through the pages. Or you can often times find older copies at antique stores.

I Wanted to Own a Farm, Not Be a Farmer

As I drove Puppy to and from the dog park today, I noticed a lot of older country songs being played on the radio. And because I am such a five senses connected to five senses type of person, not only am I a great candidate for hypnotherapy but also I’m taken back, rather easily to childhood memories.

When I was growing up I spend minutes and hours dreaming about what type of life I wanted, not necessarily career related, but landscape and architecture related. And doing so, I was soon convinced I wanted several things. A farm in Vermont, where I could harvest maple syrup and tend to my dilapidated house in waist deep snow; a farm on rolling hills in Wisconsin with room for my double wide as I pondered out life’s amazements and chatted with neighbors on my John Deere; a plantation house hidden behind thick oaks where I raised three children with a sweet southern boy whom I first met when he laughed at me buying the worn plantation house, but ended up coming over to help me fix anyway; a loner in Montana, with a cabin next to a creek while I sewed away, gardened, and pet my dog; and lastly in southern California, near the beach, were I worked nights, days, and weekends just to provide myself and my apartment rats something juice to eat, trying to get acting gigs.

So here I am driving and remembering all these things I dreamt about, none of which ever came remotely close to where I am today, and I sulked. I desperately wanted to have horses and cows, know my neighbors, dig around in my garden, lay on the beach as a celebrity, rocking on my porch swing listening to the sounds of the swamp, make a living off art and crafts, and struggle to get my car out of a snow ditch.

Of course, realistically, I was never cut out for anything like that, and they were all about me making it on my own and somehow having money, which frankly doesn’t even show I could comprehend actual work with a paycheck. I guess I wanted the cow without wanting to actually have to get up early and milk it.

So now, as I ponder all of those dreams, I wonder if they were what I really wanted or what I wanted based on movies. Or even what I really am cut out for. I’m not one for being cold; there goes Montana, Vermont and Wisconsin. I hate bugs and humidity, there goes the south. I can’t stand foggy morning and overpriced life, there goes southern California.

Maybe I am exactly where I’m supposed to be, minus the Wonder Woman outfit I always wanted, right here, where everything, slowly, often unsteadily, is coming together.

 Maybe I’ll just buy a picture of a farm….

rolling the ball…wanting to kick it!

That’s correct. The ball is now out of my hands…rolling along the way…

I’m struggling through my college class on law and social control, reading three textbooks in a short time frame. Yet all full of data and stats makes reading chopping. Not to mention the previous owner of the textbook had highlighted and noted 90% of the book in pencil. (I’m trying my best to erase all notes and highlights in hopes of getting more money back on the return. Although her/his hatred for former President Reagan is rather apparent with the “Thanks Reagan!” sarcastic notes next to paragraphs about his screw-ups) (Sorry to my friend who is a massive Reagan fan!!)

Next, I’ve borrowed my friend’s copy of The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, which is probably gonna take me two months to read. I’m told it’s a book about discovering that life is the journey, not the end result, as I just want the end result. But so far, twenty pages in, all I gather is that this boy has nothing else to talk about but his sheep and his book-pillow. I’ve already napped during the first twenty pages.

Okay, I’m also getting back into my writing. Pushing myself to find the spare time to accomplish enough to make it worth while. I’ve been able to return to critique group, which has helped push me back in as well. Learning to have faith in myself and my writing as well as to carve out time to do it. I worry that I’ll be working on a story for years and years and it won’t be relevent by the time it’s accepted. (YAY! fears of writing)

Through all this I’m attempting to pack boxes and train Puppy (as he has become something rather out of control, I’m informed!) some more. Dog parks, dog walks, exercise, cleaning house. Managing stress should really be up on the list of daily things to do. And I’ve just recently taken on another journey, one that is bigger than me, bigger than life, at least it feels that way, one that is making me shake in my boots, just a bit.

Yet how does one get all these things done in one day, and still maintain a life, relax, enjoy everything that is right now and won’t be tomorrow?!?!

So, I’m rolling the ball, although I want to kick it, for many different reasons….

Compliments and Condiments

When I was little my father took me to fast food places. I used to see signs on the drive-thru windows that read: “Condiments Upon Request.” I thought it read: “Compliments Upon Request.” So logically, I thought, so that’s where I can come to get some compliments! All I have to do is ask for a compliment and they give you them, right through the window!

Once I gained more reading skills I was disappointed that they meant ketchup and mustard.

As a child, once I got over the whole drive-thru misconception, I was not all that great at receiving compliments in general. Someone would say “Don’t you look pretty in that dress!” I would blush uncontrollably and come back with, “No, I think it makes me look fat, but thank you,” instead of just a simple, ”thank you.”

I continued to struggle with positive comments and complements from people for much of my childhood and even now as a adult. Always throwing back a negative comment because I truly felt that being humble and not stuck up meant you never accepted compliments without a negative spin on them. Like saying “thank you” meant “Yeah I know I totally rock!”

My good friends know I still do this! They say something nice and I have to contradict it. And I still do it so I don’t feel stuck up or even so that they will come back with a “no really, I’m serious.” Cause I always think a complement is a lie on their end. One of those “doing it because they feel they have to” or because it’s the “nice” thing to do.

I’m not sure why I think that, as when I give someone a compliment I mean it! I love giving people compliments! I feel better ”lifting someone up” than anything else! I guess I’ve got it backwards some place. Give but can’t receive….

Regardless, I’m still trying to work on properly receiving compliments…I think it ties into all that self-esteem crap I have trouble managing as well.

I think we all need complements as well as condiments! Really! Both are important. I know because I tried to enjoy some onion rings just this last weekend and had no ketchup!! It just wasn’t the same

To Be…..Isolated

ISOLATE: to set apart from others; place alone.

Okay, so I’m not under house arrest, my legs work fine for walking, I can operate a vehicle, and I’m smart enough to drive on the freeway and read street signs to head out of town…yet I’m suffering from some form of cabin fever…isolation.

It comes and goes, has been for over a year, that was when I lost my job. Although through the job loss I’ve realized, grown, learned, and contemplated a LOT of crap!! (Please don’t feel sorry for me…this isn’t the point of the post)

The point is isolation.

Yes, I have a Facebook account, which I use to its full extent, minus accepting “friend requests” from chicks that look like they just stepped out of the shower and decided… NOW is the best time to take my profile picture…plump-pouty-lip-kissy-thing and all. Who is that kiss intended for anyway?!?!

Anywayyyyyssss…I interact with “friends” on Facebook, sure it’s a form of communication, some deranged form, but it’s a connection to others in some way. Yet, you or in this case “I” can communicate with people all over the U.S. as well as foreign countries and still feel like I haven’t had an interaction with anyone at the end of the day.

Facebook is glorified texting! That’s what I’ve discovered. Sure I text during the day too (basically just end up bother people, the, all of four!!! people, as it seems, usually don’t hear back from two…hell they are working…DUH!!!). Is it a connection to someone???…not really!

Do I miss the cubical life?!?! Yeah, kinda, sorta, maybe a little bit. I sure don’t miss the crap that goes on, political work crap, but I miss seeing actual people, smelling someone’s disgusting lunch cooking in the break room microwave, I miss saying good morning and bye to people. Does this mean I miss work?!?! Ummm…HELL NO!! I miss people, miss drama.

Well, people are thinking, go, get out of the house!!! Ahhhhh….doesn’t work that way. Now I get out of the house, I walk the dogs, go to the dog park, run errands, (the post office employees actually seem nice when they are the only people you interact with in person) but what else…well nothing. I do homework, write, clean the house, play with the dogs…all isolated things. And frankly it’s hard to get enough enjoyment out of attempting to create a splash/swim in the dogs $10 plastic blue swimming pool.

So then you say, go to the park, go on a day trip. Ahhhh more isolation. Because I’m not looking for a two-minute conversation with someone and something I probably don’t care about or isn’t important enough to chat about. Plus I’m not one to strike up a conversation.

Now I’m not sitting here with a monitor on my leg, I’m not under house arrest. I’m just…here. Like the maps at a mall. YOU ARE HERE. Yep…I’m HERE, soooooo…yep….now what!?!?

Maybe my isolation stems from lack of friends, family, get-togethers. Maybe I isolate myself without knowing it. Maybe I isolate myself due to fear, since I’m an introvert, yet want company, and often are annoyed by many.

The weekends and nights are better, of course, because then Husband is home. But frankly we aren’t all that excited to chit-chat with each other, because there isn’t a whole lot to chit-chat about, let alone he’s pretty tired of chit-chating and listening by the time he’s done with work…plus, we pretty much know it all….said it all.

I feel like the Monopoly guy in jail! If the Monopoly guy talked to himself, stared at the ceiling, and sung the same chorus from California Gurls over and over all day…

Writing the Greenhorn Way

Most people associate the word greenhorn with the TV show The Deadliest Catch. But for now I’m going to switch it up on all the fishermen out there and use it as it might pertain to writing.

I often feel like I’m amidst a bunch of writers who have it all going on. They have all their routines, and pencils in a line. They get the ins and outs, ups and downs, and usually have something to show for it.

They know right and wrong, front and back. But at times I feel like I’m out there all alone, slipping and falling, hammering away at the “ice” and getting picked on.

Frankly I’m often “sea sick” and want to just get off the boat. Maybe this isn’t the place for me, but yet I love it at the same time.

I thought that I knew what I was doing when I started, I sure looked like I did, but over time the doubt has crept back in like a crashing wave…it’s true I might be capsized.

Adding on top of my already weak “sea legs” I feel like I’m not doing enough…or whatever it’s called. I haven’t written anything in over two months, other than this blog. I’m feeling like the clock is ticking, as the market is changing, and surely not for the better. Even if I was to jump back in the ice-cold water, I feel I’d drowned for sure.

Much like on a fishing boat, writing has its rules, publishing has its rules. Sure you can go about it your own way, maybe it will work, but maybe it won’t.

I’m one to give up, but never quit, if that makes sense…

Has the joy left for writing, or is it just shoved under the facts of life and needs to be dug out?

People often say, “Take a break, then come back!” Ummm…well I kinda am right now, but I don’t want to be. I want to write, right now! I want to do it all, but can’t, or won’t, or don’t. I find excuses. But that nagging little girl is still there, in the back of my mind, nearly everyday…”Hello,” she says, smacking away on her candy, “write or something, you are just wasting life!”

As long as I don’t have to bite the head off a Hearing I think I will keep trying….for now…