Blog 57...Being Alone
I don’t remember the last Christmas that I did not get a little sad, where crawling in bed alone did not leave a soft sting. The chill of loneliness lingers longer on Christmas, more so than most other days, the memories of different times swirl in my head...like visions of sugarplums and gingerbread.
Christmas is like the Alpha and the Omega of my relationship with my ex-husband, it is not only when I decided to leave him, but also when he asked me to marry him, many years ago.
The hurt and forsaken side of me longs to feel a partner’s warmth on a morning that holds more to me than I can even comprehend.
And the reality of isolation broods in my mind longer than usual, like the fog sitting on the water, biding its time for the dawn to break so it can creep ashore and dash the light.
And I pray for the clouds to part, for the sun to pour its warmth on my shoulders and tickle the back of my neck.
Yet I am not alone.
I must shift my mindset out of this notion of solitude.
I have the best family in the world...times 11, I have friends that adore me, as I do them...and I have me...and I love me...what more could a princess ask for...
Maybe the loneliness is just something I need to nut up and get over.
Maybe the loneliness is a shield that I put up to protect myself from the possibility of getting broken again.
Maybe it is I who is keeping everyone out.
Maybe I have become so accustomed to being alone that it has become the only thing that I know, the blanket that doesn’t keep you warm but brings the most comfort.
Maybe a lot of things.
The fact of the matter is that even in my marriage I felt alone...that even when I am with others, I feel alone.
I think a lot of us do.
I think I am just really scared to let go of this feeling of being alone.
And I don’t know why...
Why do I feel alone?
When I am so surrounded by love.
Is it because I like it?
A lot of times, when with others, I long to be alone, for the elegance of the quiet, for the moments to truly ponder the thoughts in my head.
Then again, maybe I just ponder shit to fucking much.
Maybe I feel alone cause I keep telling myself that I am.
Maybe if I walk around like one of those ding dongs that talk to themselves going “I am not alone, I am not alone” the feeling will slowly vanish, or I’ll become known as the chick that talks to herself using positive affirmations...which might not be the best for my reputation.
Maybe I just need to shift...shift to not feeling alone...to accepting the fact that I am loved.
That it doesn’t matter who loves me, or whether they hold me at night, and whether it comes from one person or twelve, or just from me, the fact that love is coming my way means I am not alone...
Maybe me being alone or lonely disables me from putting the love out there in order for it to come back.
Me being alone lies in my own hands...
And if you feel alone maybe you should look in the mirror...and think why.
Maybe it is not everybody else’s fault...but your own...my own.
Maybe in stepping away from the feeling of “being alone”...we open ourselves up to the notion of not...what if it is really that easy?
For me, it is worth a shot.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
(Have you ever been to one of those shows with a bunch of “show newbies” you know what I am talking about, the front is not crowded at all but the back is and people aren’t even standing right, they are cluttered and crowded in odd packs with no space for people to get around, but if everyone shifted one way or the other like 5 inches, everyone would have plenty of space...this move is for one of those shows...)
BLAZING A TRAIL
First off, if you going to be blazing a trail, you best start off by lighting your joint, once you got it going grab your imaginary machete (please note: DO NOT BRING YOUR REAL MACHETE TO THE SHOW...that is not okay) All right, puff, puff and walk swinging your machete and making room for your friends to follow your path, you can stop for a second and assess your surroundings, maybe pass the joint to the person to the left...quietly mention that if he moved 5 inches over he would have a bunch more room...amazing right...ohh, you see a clearing ahead, towards the front, grab your joint back and start your puffing and machete swinging until you have gotten to your spot...than you can stop swinging your arm around like crazy (people might think you are a little nuts...)
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Blog 56: Walking Away (Walking the Walk Part II)
Blog 56: Walking Away (Walking the Walk Part II)
Walking the Walk Part I, is Blog 26 and one of my favorites.
The Christmas season marks a hard time of year for me, it was three years ago that I decided to leave my ex-husband...three years ago I found a strength I never knew I had.
I walked away, from my life, from my friends, my business, my marriage, my house...pretty much everything I thought my life to be, I turned my back on and began marching to a tune I did not know existed.
For awhile I tried to hold on to the things I thought made me happy, I tried to keep the friends that my ex and I shared, I tried to salvage my house in order to repay my parents, I tried to keep my life that I had put so much effort into.
And it was a wasted effort.
What we think makes us happy today, might not make us happy tomorrow.
One fight with my ex-husband, I told him, “You can have our friends, I don’t want them.” I didn’t want to deal with having to hear about him and having him get mad when hearing about me and what I was doing.
I walked away.
The friends that were really my friends, I still talk to...I just gave it time.
My dad told me when I first tried to save my house, “Don’t bother, just walk away, it’s too much, so what if we lose some money, money is not worth the heartache and the hardships you will go through, and right now, you need to heal”...I tried to prove him wrong, alas I was wrong. I walked away from my house and had it foreclosed...the stress of trying to do it all by myself was too great of a burden for my shoulders that had grown weak from the battles I was in the process of fighting.
My parents begged me to move back to San Francisco, and for a while I simply fought, not wanting to admit my failure, not willing to lose everything, not able to let go...
But a downward spiral does not spin up, you simply have to jump ship...acknowledge your loses and move on.
And the life that I held on to, that I fought so hard to keep...pales in comparison to my existence today.
Walking away takes bravery, valor, fearlessness and a whole lotta guts.
All words I would feel honored to have describe me.
I was so scared of starting over, of having nothing, of being alone...yet as I have written before...fear is consuming, it overtakes you...
But I found the strength, and from that my eyes have been opened.
I can tell you, walking away is the toughest thing I have ever done in my life, and one of the few things, I constantly reap the benefits of.
This particular blog was inspired not by the time of year, but by a friend that I have, who needs to find her inner light again...an ill-minded man has exhausted her fire...I have witnessed my friend slip away, and as she moaned to me on the phone yesterday I just kept on repeating...”Just walk away, walk away.” And I fear for her safety if she does not walk away, I am scared that this man will bring her down more than he already has, as I know she fears as well.
As she lamented to me, as she had so many times before, I finished with, “You need to stop talking the talk, and start walking the walk, because now that you have yourself acknowledged that he is so wrong and is taking your life in a direction you do not want it to go, if you let him continue or if you get hurt, it is just as much your fault as it is his.”
And just as she must march away, I must as well, for I have said my peace, my feelings have been stated, and if she cannot find her inner strength, then I guess, she still has more lessons to learn, and I am not one to stand in the way of that.
I can only hope and pray that she sees the luminous light of the unknown, the whimsical mystery of forging a path you never thought you would have to take.
And not all things you can walk away from, but when you find yourself lost, scared, not knowing what you have become, one must turn around and go in a new direction and do what you can to stay true to you.
The things you walk away from, if they were really suppose to be in your life, they will follow, and if you don’t like the new road you are taking, get off at the next exit, find a different route, just don’t keep going the wrong way.
And if you don’t know which way is wrong or right, just start walking, the path will unfold right in front of you...
Happy Holidays, may you all walk in the direction that makes you fucking happy.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
OPENING THE PRESENTS
I love presents, and love the surprise that comes with them...
Start by giving the box a little shake, what could it possibly be, untie the ribbon with gusto, and rip that paper off (do not try to save the paper, you aren’t ever going to get around to really reusing it...come on) and lift up the girt so you can get a good look, ohhhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhh, it is exactly what you wanted, open that box up...stupid tape always gets in the way, and tissue paper...damm, finally you see the gift, a big smile comes on your face and pull that baby out for everyone to see...awesomeness.
Walking the Walk Part I, is Blog 26 and one of my favorites.
The Christmas season marks a hard time of year for me, it was three years ago that I decided to leave my ex-husband...three years ago I found a strength I never knew I had.
I walked away, from my life, from my friends, my business, my marriage, my house...pretty much everything I thought my life to be, I turned my back on and began marching to a tune I did not know existed.
For awhile I tried to hold on to the things I thought made me happy, I tried to keep the friends that my ex and I shared, I tried to salvage my house in order to repay my parents, I tried to keep my life that I had put so much effort into.
And it was a wasted effort.
What we think makes us happy today, might not make us happy tomorrow.
One fight with my ex-husband, I told him, “You can have our friends, I don’t want them.” I didn’t want to deal with having to hear about him and having him get mad when hearing about me and what I was doing.
I walked away.
The friends that were really my friends, I still talk to...I just gave it time.
My dad told me when I first tried to save my house, “Don’t bother, just walk away, it’s too much, so what if we lose some money, money is not worth the heartache and the hardships you will go through, and right now, you need to heal”...I tried to prove him wrong, alas I was wrong. I walked away from my house and had it foreclosed...the stress of trying to do it all by myself was too great of a burden for my shoulders that had grown weak from the battles I was in the process of fighting.
My parents begged me to move back to San Francisco, and for a while I simply fought, not wanting to admit my failure, not willing to lose everything, not able to let go...
But a downward spiral does not spin up, you simply have to jump ship...acknowledge your loses and move on.
And the life that I held on to, that I fought so hard to keep...pales in comparison to my existence today.
Walking away takes bravery, valor, fearlessness and a whole lotta guts.
All words I would feel honored to have describe me.
I was so scared of starting over, of having nothing, of being alone...yet as I have written before...fear is consuming, it overtakes you...
But I found the strength, and from that my eyes have been opened.
I can tell you, walking away is the toughest thing I have ever done in my life, and one of the few things, I constantly reap the benefits of.
This particular blog was inspired not by the time of year, but by a friend that I have, who needs to find her inner light again...an ill-minded man has exhausted her fire...I have witnessed my friend slip away, and as she moaned to me on the phone yesterday I just kept on repeating...”Just walk away, walk away.” And I fear for her safety if she does not walk away, I am scared that this man will bring her down more than he already has, as I know she fears as well.
As she lamented to me, as she had so many times before, I finished with, “You need to stop talking the talk, and start walking the walk, because now that you have yourself acknowledged that he is so wrong and is taking your life in a direction you do not want it to go, if you let him continue or if you get hurt, it is just as much your fault as it is his.”
And just as she must march away, I must as well, for I have said my peace, my feelings have been stated, and if she cannot find her inner strength, then I guess, she still has more lessons to learn, and I am not one to stand in the way of that.
I can only hope and pray that she sees the luminous light of the unknown, the whimsical mystery of forging a path you never thought you would have to take.
And not all things you can walk away from, but when you find yourself lost, scared, not knowing what you have become, one must turn around and go in a new direction and do what you can to stay true to you.
The things you walk away from, if they were really suppose to be in your life, they will follow, and if you don’t like the new road you are taking, get off at the next exit, find a different route, just don’t keep going the wrong way.
And if you don’t know which way is wrong or right, just start walking, the path will unfold right in front of you...
Happy Holidays, may you all walk in the direction that makes you fucking happy.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
OPENING THE PRESENTS
I love presents, and love the surprise that comes with them...
Start by giving the box a little shake, what could it possibly be, untie the ribbon with gusto, and rip that paper off (do not try to save the paper, you aren’t ever going to get around to really reusing it...come on) and lift up the girt so you can get a good look, ohhhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhh, it is exactly what you wanted, open that box up...stupid tape always gets in the way, and tissue paper...damm, finally you see the gift, a big smile comes on your face and pull that baby out for everyone to see...awesomeness.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Blog 55... Reality Keeps Slapping Me in the Face...
Blog 55...Reality Keeps Slapping Me in the Face...
As Reality slapped me in the face this morning, I turned the other cheek. In rotating my head I realized the other side still stung from previous slaps. And for a moment I sat still, head in my hands, trying to numb the pain but coming to terms with fact that I might as well get used to the pain...for I have never heard of reality placing a soft kiss...
As I flew home yesterday from a well-rounded vacation, a man behind me was bitching about how hard life was to the stranger next to him and she replied with, “Well it only gets harder.”
He retorted, “Aren’t you suppose to say it only gets Easier.”
I could mentally envision her smiling as she came back with, “No it only gets harder, people will lie and tell you it gets easier, they are wrong, it just gets harder, so you might as well embrace it, and deal with it, you have no other choice.”
“That is not the answer I wanted to hear” the young man stammered.
“Life doesn’t give you the answer you want to hear, that is why it is life and not a fairytale...the sooner you realize that...the sooner you can just surrender to the hardships and come to terms with simply doing the best you can to be happy and to bounce back from all the problems...it doesn’t get easier...you just learn to deal with crap better.”
As I turned around and tried to sneak a glance of the Yoda behind me...a knowing smirk spread across my face, and even though this advice was meant for someone else...I knew the voice behind the chair was talking to me.
It was a notion I must come to terms with.
And one I had witnessed so many times before and continue to do so on a daily basis.
In fairytale land you don’t have to deal with the consequences of other people’s emotions, issues and mistakes, you only have your own (which is hard enough to deal with) but in real life things constantly come at you that you have no control over, that you must simply ride out and go from there...
There are times where you are put in situations that you didn’t put yourself in, you just open your eyes and you are in a new place, lost with no direction...and you have to make a decision on which way to walk...embrace your choice, not look back and come to terms with the fact that you will not be walking a straight line.
And that is the reality of life.
Things never go as planned...it never works out the way it does in the song...
And as I am reminded yet again of this fact...It came to me that reality giving me a blow to the face this morning was probably a great thing...
For I was going to compromise my happiness in the current moment for something that I thought would make me happy.
And looking back on my life the things I thought would bring me satisfaction, rarely did...yet the times in my life where I have simply lived, and did what makes me happy on a day to day basis are times where I have felt fulfilled.
And I am not the conforming type, that I know does not make me happy, and why it took reality slapping me in the face to realize that I have no idea...
What makes me happy is my family and my city...my kingdom.
This is who I am, and I might as well embrace it and make it work to the best of my abilities, and enjoy ever fucking moment of it...the good, the bad, the ugly...I might as well enjoy the path I have chosen to take...a footway I began a long time ago.
Things don’t work out, because they weren’t suppose to.
And I must simply take from it what I have learned.
I have learned to stay true to me...that money, people, life...it is all going to let you down...but if you are good with you...none of that matters.
And Reality...I hope you have learned, that you can go ahead and slap me...I am however a native San Franciscan and I princess no less, so I am going to punch you back, dead in the eye...and in between each blow I dish out and receive...I will not only do a little dance, but look damm good the entire time.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr...bitches.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THROWING THE PUNCHES...
This is for moments at a show when it has gotten really dirty (I usually have put my hat on by this point) They keep throwing the good licks at you and you just want more...
So stance yourself out, I personally line my feet up with my knees, bend them a little and put my feet at 2 o’clock and 7. I make my hands into tight fists and bend my elbows bringing my forearms in front of me for some protection...
As the dirty licks start...jab, then swivel to the right avoiding the punch, go into protective stance and then jab again, throwing in a left upper cut, and then, take a punch (man that was a mean lick...I think he just played it with his teeth) don’t stop fighting, cause when you stop so does the music...and where is the fun in that.
As Reality slapped me in the face this morning, I turned the other cheek. In rotating my head I realized the other side still stung from previous slaps. And for a moment I sat still, head in my hands, trying to numb the pain but coming to terms with fact that I might as well get used to the pain...for I have never heard of reality placing a soft kiss...
As I flew home yesterday from a well-rounded vacation, a man behind me was bitching about how hard life was to the stranger next to him and she replied with, “Well it only gets harder.”
He retorted, “Aren’t you suppose to say it only gets Easier.”
I could mentally envision her smiling as she came back with, “No it only gets harder, people will lie and tell you it gets easier, they are wrong, it just gets harder, so you might as well embrace it, and deal with it, you have no other choice.”
“That is not the answer I wanted to hear” the young man stammered.
“Life doesn’t give you the answer you want to hear, that is why it is life and not a fairytale...the sooner you realize that...the sooner you can just surrender to the hardships and come to terms with simply doing the best you can to be happy and to bounce back from all the problems...it doesn’t get easier...you just learn to deal with crap better.”
As I turned around and tried to sneak a glance of the Yoda behind me...a knowing smirk spread across my face, and even though this advice was meant for someone else...I knew the voice behind the chair was talking to me.
It was a notion I must come to terms with.
And one I had witnessed so many times before and continue to do so on a daily basis.
In fairytale land you don’t have to deal with the consequences of other people’s emotions, issues and mistakes, you only have your own (which is hard enough to deal with) but in real life things constantly come at you that you have no control over, that you must simply ride out and go from there...
There are times where you are put in situations that you didn’t put yourself in, you just open your eyes and you are in a new place, lost with no direction...and you have to make a decision on which way to walk...embrace your choice, not look back and come to terms with the fact that you will not be walking a straight line.
And that is the reality of life.
Things never go as planned...it never works out the way it does in the song...
And as I am reminded yet again of this fact...It came to me that reality giving me a blow to the face this morning was probably a great thing...
For I was going to compromise my happiness in the current moment for something that I thought would make me happy.
And looking back on my life the things I thought would bring me satisfaction, rarely did...yet the times in my life where I have simply lived, and did what makes me happy on a day to day basis are times where I have felt fulfilled.
And I am not the conforming type, that I know does not make me happy, and why it took reality slapping me in the face to realize that I have no idea...
What makes me happy is my family and my city...my kingdom.
This is who I am, and I might as well embrace it and make it work to the best of my abilities, and enjoy ever fucking moment of it...the good, the bad, the ugly...I might as well enjoy the path I have chosen to take...a footway I began a long time ago.
Things don’t work out, because they weren’t suppose to.
And I must simply take from it what I have learned.
I have learned to stay true to me...that money, people, life...it is all going to let you down...but if you are good with you...none of that matters.
And Reality...I hope you have learned, that you can go ahead and slap me...I am however a native San Franciscan and I princess no less, so I am going to punch you back, dead in the eye...and in between each blow I dish out and receive...I will not only do a little dance, but look damm good the entire time.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr...bitches.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THROWING THE PUNCHES...
This is for moments at a show when it has gotten really dirty (I usually have put my hat on by this point) They keep throwing the good licks at you and you just want more...
So stance yourself out, I personally line my feet up with my knees, bend them a little and put my feet at 2 o’clock and 7. I make my hands into tight fists and bend my elbows bringing my forearms in front of me for some protection...
As the dirty licks start...jab, then swivel to the right avoiding the punch, go into protective stance and then jab again, throwing in a left upper cut, and then, take a punch (man that was a mean lick...I think he just played it with his teeth) don’t stop fighting, cause when you stop so does the music...and where is the fun in that.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Blog 54...Women are Crazy as Fuck & Men are Dumb as Shit...(Part I)
Blog 54...Women are Crazy as Fuck & Men are Dumb as Shit...(Part I)
Hmmmm...this sounds kinda crazy...anyhoo
My awesome boss told me one day (in explaining how her and her husband work)...”Men are Dumb, Women are Crazy...once you get that down, it makes communication much easier”
Well my boss is a lady I listen to & look up to so I took this advice and held it close.
Over the past month I have been in observation mode...and figures, she was right.
Sorry guys, I don’t mean to be rude, but you all are some obtuse motherfuckers.
But it is cool, cause us ladies, are some crazy ass bitches...but we gotta be crazy, you all are dumb...but maybe you all are so dumb to help you cope with our craziness...hmmmmmm.
Once we all address this situation, we might all be able to communicate better.
Examples of how we could better situations are as follows:
-I am dressed in a pair a panties, a fedora & my leopard print heels from Paris ready to do a lovely dance for homie, he decides to pick the music, he puts on a song in which the singer starts with...”I want to dedicate this song to my ex-wife.”
I wonder if he can spell dumb ass...cause the heels came off quite quickly...does he not realize I am bonkers.
Now if I had checked myself and been like...”Wait, this dude is a dude, and I know he wants this dance, and I know he loves me, he probably is just so thick skulled that he doesn’t even get that this would really fucking bother me”...I might have prevented myself from becoming ticked.
Now if homie had thought before he put on the music...”Wait, I am a dumb ass...this dance is going to be hot...I should let the lady take control of this one, cause I am cloddish and could fuck this up and she is crazy as sin and if one thing goes wrong this dance is not going to go down.”...Well than the dance would have happened.
-Papi shows me a picture of him recently holding his ex-girlfriend’s tits...what a featherbrain.
Now granted I know this chick and him are just friends, and she is awesomeness times 11, and I’ve seen her other friends grab her tits and I know it is not like that...yet even though I know this, I’m crazy...and what dumb ass is going to show his lady a picture of him holding another ladies tits and go “check this out” and not think it is a wrong, a Pinhead...that is who...aka, a dude.
If homie had checked himself and been like...”Wait, would I like to see a picture of her ex holding her tits...Probably not...And I need to remember that she is insane and freaks out over little things...hmmmmmm, not a good idea”...a hurt loony bin, aka...me...would have never resulted.
Now in the end, I checked myself (cause this chick really is that cool)...but homie really pushed my lunatic button on that one (I just breathed and kept on repeating, “he is a dumb ass...he is a dumb ass...he is a dumb ass”...it helped)
In fact in taking in my boss’s observation I have been able to deal with many aspects of my man dealings better...
At my other job, I have this one guy, he is totally awesomeness but I tell him what to do and he fights me usually in the beginning and wants to do it his way, but I am the boss and the one with the experience, so I find that if I simply repeat myself 3 times, he will fight me the first 2 times, but on the third time he simply repeats back to me what I said and I go “right” and he says “okay” and we are done.
So now, instead of getting frustrated, I just repeat myself and know that by the third time what I am saying has finally sunken in and is starting to make sense...or maybe he just repeats me to get the deranged chick to shut up...up for grabs, totally.
But it works.
In fact now when a dude says something dumb to me...I take a moment to go, “Wait he is an idiot, he probably means no harm, he is just moronic.” and I become way less mad.
And I think if dudes instead of trying to figure out why we are so out to lunch, just accept the fact that we are cracker-brained, and that we mean no malice, we are just batty, they would better be able to communicate with the ladies.
I know, I don’t come close to understanding the male race...it is asinine for me to even attempt to...but you know my insane woman self will always try.
You wanna know something really funny though...when I write about stuff I like to have a thesaurus by me, and I looked up the words “crazy” and “dumb” and many of the words that described “crazy” also portrayed “dumb”
Hmmmmmmm...Something for our crazy dumb asses to think about.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
Since I am going on vacation (yeahhhhhhhh, best Christmas gift ever...thank you, thank you, thank you) I thought this would be fitting...
PACKING YOUR SUITCASE...
So set your suitcase out at waist level...unzip that bitch...now there are two ways to pack this baby...you can choose Dance Move A. In which case you neatly fold things in the air before placing them gently into your suitcase. Dance Move B. you run around in a circle frantically throwing shit over your shoulder and praying it lands in the vicinity of the suitcase.
How ever you start your dance finish by your “thinking” dance move and go over a mental list of everything you have...might as well throw in another pair of panties...you can never have enough panties...Got it all...awesomeness...time to zip and get out the door...IT’S VACATION TIME!!!!!!!
Hmmmm...this sounds kinda crazy...anyhoo
My awesome boss told me one day (in explaining how her and her husband work)...”Men are Dumb, Women are Crazy...once you get that down, it makes communication much easier”
Well my boss is a lady I listen to & look up to so I took this advice and held it close.
Over the past month I have been in observation mode...and figures, she was right.
Sorry guys, I don’t mean to be rude, but you all are some obtuse motherfuckers.
But it is cool, cause us ladies, are some crazy ass bitches...but we gotta be crazy, you all are dumb...but maybe you all are so dumb to help you cope with our craziness...hmmmmmm.
Once we all address this situation, we might all be able to communicate better.
Examples of how we could better situations are as follows:
-I am dressed in a pair a panties, a fedora & my leopard print heels from Paris ready to do a lovely dance for homie, he decides to pick the music, he puts on a song in which the singer starts with...”I want to dedicate this song to my ex-wife.”
I wonder if he can spell dumb ass...cause the heels came off quite quickly...does he not realize I am bonkers.
Now if I had checked myself and been like...”Wait, this dude is a dude, and I know he wants this dance, and I know he loves me, he probably is just so thick skulled that he doesn’t even get that this would really fucking bother me”...I might have prevented myself from becoming ticked.
Now if homie had thought before he put on the music...”Wait, I am a dumb ass...this dance is going to be hot...I should let the lady take control of this one, cause I am cloddish and could fuck this up and she is crazy as sin and if one thing goes wrong this dance is not going to go down.”...Well than the dance would have happened.
-Papi shows me a picture of him recently holding his ex-girlfriend’s tits...what a featherbrain.
Now granted I know this chick and him are just friends, and she is awesomeness times 11, and I’ve seen her other friends grab her tits and I know it is not like that...yet even though I know this, I’m crazy...and what dumb ass is going to show his lady a picture of him holding another ladies tits and go “check this out” and not think it is a wrong, a Pinhead...that is who...aka, a dude.
If homie had checked himself and been like...”Wait, would I like to see a picture of her ex holding her tits...Probably not...And I need to remember that she is insane and freaks out over little things...hmmmmmm, not a good idea”...a hurt loony bin, aka...me...would have never resulted.
Now in the end, I checked myself (cause this chick really is that cool)...but homie really pushed my lunatic button on that one (I just breathed and kept on repeating, “he is a dumb ass...he is a dumb ass...he is a dumb ass”...it helped)
In fact in taking in my boss’s observation I have been able to deal with many aspects of my man dealings better...
At my other job, I have this one guy, he is totally awesomeness but I tell him what to do and he fights me usually in the beginning and wants to do it his way, but I am the boss and the one with the experience, so I find that if I simply repeat myself 3 times, he will fight me the first 2 times, but on the third time he simply repeats back to me what I said and I go “right” and he says “okay” and we are done.
So now, instead of getting frustrated, I just repeat myself and know that by the third time what I am saying has finally sunken in and is starting to make sense...or maybe he just repeats me to get the deranged chick to shut up...up for grabs, totally.
But it works.
In fact now when a dude says something dumb to me...I take a moment to go, “Wait he is an idiot, he probably means no harm, he is just moronic.” and I become way less mad.
And I think if dudes instead of trying to figure out why we are so out to lunch, just accept the fact that we are cracker-brained, and that we mean no malice, we are just batty, they would better be able to communicate with the ladies.
I know, I don’t come close to understanding the male race...it is asinine for me to even attempt to...but you know my insane woman self will always try.
You wanna know something really funny though...when I write about stuff I like to have a thesaurus by me, and I looked up the words “crazy” and “dumb” and many of the words that described “crazy” also portrayed “dumb”
Hmmmmmmm...Something for our crazy dumb asses to think about.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
Since I am going on vacation (yeahhhhhhhh, best Christmas gift ever...thank you, thank you, thank you) I thought this would be fitting...
PACKING YOUR SUITCASE...
So set your suitcase out at waist level...unzip that bitch...now there are two ways to pack this baby...you can choose Dance Move A. In which case you neatly fold things in the air before placing them gently into your suitcase. Dance Move B. you run around in a circle frantically throwing shit over your shoulder and praying it lands in the vicinity of the suitcase.
How ever you start your dance finish by your “thinking” dance move and go over a mental list of everything you have...might as well throw in another pair of panties...you can never have enough panties...Got it all...awesomeness...time to zip and get out the door...IT’S VACATION TIME!!!!!!!
Friday, November 25, 2011
Blog 53...Daddy, you have cursed me...
Blog 53...Daddy, you have cursed me...
Dear Daddy...
Daddy you have cursed me...and no it is not because of the red curly hair I inherited from you (I have grown quite fond of my mop) nor is it the purple legs you have blessed me with (God forbid you give me your metabolism instead) the humor you gave as a legacy I quite enjoy (as I believe others do) and your work ethic has helped me survive in a world many never expected me to...
Yet how I view “a man” you have fucked...(in the best kinda way)
And yet you are no perfect man.
When I was young the one thing that I did not learn was self-esteem, a notion that pillaged my young life...you were not able to communicate with me properly the notions of exercise and healthy eating, instead we fought over my weight and I had no self worth...yet the blame is not entirely yours...communicating with a teenage girl is harder than attaining world peace...maybe just communicating with women in general...
And there were times where you scared me, and you didn’t understand me, and you thought me short of my abilities...
And that is because sometimes one needs to be scared straight, doesn’t need to be understood but to understand, and people’s views of one’s capabilities are earned not given...or that is how it should be...
You have taught me that life is not easy, that hard work is involved, but you can still enjoy every minute of it, and the pay off to hard work is breathtaking...that there is “a joy in labor found.”
And as I grow the more I see my reflection in your shadow...you told me at the age of 16 after I had gotten kicked out of Spain for drinking (a long story we need not discuss) that I, reminded you most of yourself...
Sometimes I feel this cross is too hard to bare.
Sometimes I fear messing up and letting you down, as I know I have so many times before...
I wonder if one of the reasons you treat mom like such a queen is to set an example for us, for you have set the bar quite high.
I wonder if seeing how boys have affected your daughters so negatively encourages you to show us a different side...
Well dad...you have succeeded.
I watched you this Thanksgiving holiday in awe. I saw how you doted on Mom, how you made sure she was taken care of, that she had everything she needed...I saw a softness you only save for her, I saw you sit back and enjoy seeing three generations together...I saw you exhaustly play with a grand daughter with far more energy that I could fathom, I saw you make her smile...and I saw how happy that made you.
You have taught me the joy in kindness, in treating people right.
That not only is it better to be kind than to be right, but it simply feels better.
You have shown me as a woman, how I deserve to be treated.
And how I should treat others.
You are not just a fine example of a Man...
You are a fine fucking example of a “Human”
Daddy, you have faults just as all of us do. But your dedication to your wife and to your family is flooring, and I feel privileged to have the honor to witness it.
I know I still have so much more to learn and so much more strength to gain...
But you have shown me a path, which I would so like to take.
And if I fail in choosing a man that does not match your abilities the fault lies all on me, not on you.
You have done your job...I just might not have learned the lesson yet.
Here is to hoping that I have...that I will...
And cheers, to one hell of a teacher.
(Please note: My “Dear Mommy” letter is not to be forgotten, just not ready to show, after all among other things I inherited my mom’s Hips...whooooo hooooooo, and her photographic memory, something that after years of pot smoking, I still have in tack...wow is right.)
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
CUTTING THE HAIR...
(if you can pull this off without the person in front of you realizing, you get two extra points)
All right, walk up behind someone and start to shampoo his or her hair. (since you don’t necessarily know this person, you don’t really have to have “contact” you can wash with a 2-inch distance) Now it is time to rinse, use the little hose thingy, don’t forget to shake the hair out...condition time, you should probably bring out the comb for this part, all right, got the knots out, damm that last one was hard...rinse again...all right, pin up some sections so you can get to the bottom, comb out & start to cut with your fingers that have turned into scissors...opps that was a big chunk of hair...point to it on the ground, looks like it is going to be more than a trim...tee hee hee, maybe if we unpin these top sections it will look better...hmmmm, step back, looks like we should just cut it really short...now get snipping.
Dear Daddy...
Daddy you have cursed me...and no it is not because of the red curly hair I inherited from you (I have grown quite fond of my mop) nor is it the purple legs you have blessed me with (God forbid you give me your metabolism instead) the humor you gave as a legacy I quite enjoy (as I believe others do) and your work ethic has helped me survive in a world many never expected me to...
Yet how I view “a man” you have fucked...(in the best kinda way)
And yet you are no perfect man.
When I was young the one thing that I did not learn was self-esteem, a notion that pillaged my young life...you were not able to communicate with me properly the notions of exercise and healthy eating, instead we fought over my weight and I had no self worth...yet the blame is not entirely yours...communicating with a teenage girl is harder than attaining world peace...maybe just communicating with women in general...
And there were times where you scared me, and you didn’t understand me, and you thought me short of my abilities...
And that is because sometimes one needs to be scared straight, doesn’t need to be understood but to understand, and people’s views of one’s capabilities are earned not given...or that is how it should be...
You have taught me that life is not easy, that hard work is involved, but you can still enjoy every minute of it, and the pay off to hard work is breathtaking...that there is “a joy in labor found.”
And as I grow the more I see my reflection in your shadow...you told me at the age of 16 after I had gotten kicked out of Spain for drinking (a long story we need not discuss) that I, reminded you most of yourself...
Sometimes I feel this cross is too hard to bare.
Sometimes I fear messing up and letting you down, as I know I have so many times before...
I wonder if one of the reasons you treat mom like such a queen is to set an example for us, for you have set the bar quite high.
I wonder if seeing how boys have affected your daughters so negatively encourages you to show us a different side...
Well dad...you have succeeded.
I watched you this Thanksgiving holiday in awe. I saw how you doted on Mom, how you made sure she was taken care of, that she had everything she needed...I saw a softness you only save for her, I saw you sit back and enjoy seeing three generations together...I saw you exhaustly play with a grand daughter with far more energy that I could fathom, I saw you make her smile...and I saw how happy that made you.
You have taught me the joy in kindness, in treating people right.
That not only is it better to be kind than to be right, but it simply feels better.
You have shown me as a woman, how I deserve to be treated.
And how I should treat others.
You are not just a fine example of a Man...
You are a fine fucking example of a “Human”
Daddy, you have faults just as all of us do. But your dedication to your wife and to your family is flooring, and I feel privileged to have the honor to witness it.
I know I still have so much more to learn and so much more strength to gain...
But you have shown me a path, which I would so like to take.
And if I fail in choosing a man that does not match your abilities the fault lies all on me, not on you.
You have done your job...I just might not have learned the lesson yet.
Here is to hoping that I have...that I will...
And cheers, to one hell of a teacher.
(Please note: My “Dear Mommy” letter is not to be forgotten, just not ready to show, after all among other things I inherited my mom’s Hips...whooooo hooooooo, and her photographic memory, something that after years of pot smoking, I still have in tack...wow is right.)
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
CUTTING THE HAIR...
(if you can pull this off without the person in front of you realizing, you get two extra points)
All right, walk up behind someone and start to shampoo his or her hair. (since you don’t necessarily know this person, you don’t really have to have “contact” you can wash with a 2-inch distance) Now it is time to rinse, use the little hose thingy, don’t forget to shake the hair out...condition time, you should probably bring out the comb for this part, all right, got the knots out, damm that last one was hard...rinse again...all right, pin up some sections so you can get to the bottom, comb out & start to cut with your fingers that have turned into scissors...opps that was a big chunk of hair...point to it on the ground, looks like it is going to be more than a trim...tee hee hee, maybe if we unpin these top sections it will look better...hmmmm, step back, looks like we should just cut it really short...now get snipping.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Blog 52...And the Hunt Continues...(Adventures of a Chode Hunter Part II)
Blog 52...And the Hunt Continues...(Adventures of a Chode Hunter Part II)
For your basic definitions of "Chode" & all meaning involved with "Chode Hunting" please refer to Blog 31.
More definitions to add to your repertoire.
Chode Code:
This is a code that Chode Hunters use to alert their friends that they have been approached by a chode or to distance themselves from a chode...I have been known to yell "PIZZA" at random moments so my ladies know to come and save me (who would not come running for pizza)...when I am by myself I look at the chode who is hitting on me, smile big, and tell him,... "I only fuck chickens"...and walk away. This usually works and leaves them with the common "huhhhh" look on their face (making their bottom lip somewhat protrude out.)
This being said...be prepared for interesting come backs...the best one I received after telling a man that I only fucked chickens was...."Well Cock-a-doddle-do"...that one made me freeze dance for a moment.
Chode Chatter:
Have you ever talked to someone and felt minutes of your life wasting away...has it ever been a boy that is hitting on you in the lamest way possible...have you ever felt like blinking and blowing their heads up...This is "Chode Chatter"...Chodes tend to ask questions that they don't want answers to...its just part of their pick up line...a wonderful example of this is what happened to me this weekend...A man asked if I was Irish, I squinted my green eyes at him and tilted my red hair, not evening answering...he then asked, "Do you want so more in you?"
Precious seconds of my life...wasted...gone, never to return...on chode chatter (I think I heard that line once, when I was ten...maybe we need to come up with a "Chode Academy" to free the world of dumb asses.)
CIT (Chode in Training):
This is a younger man who has chode tendencies...and has older friends that are chodes...it is possible to save the young lad from the deep pit of stupidity of all that is chode...but the battle is fierce...glitter tends not even to work...and often the battle leads the chode hunter to copious amounts of drinking and gaining a minimum of 5lbs..
Ladies...sometimes this fight is pointless too...for a chode chicklet (baby chode) is started at a young age, just please remember this if you are to ever have a son...Do not raise a chode...raise a fucking man!
Debunking a Chode:
This is a rarity...and is only for level 10 Chode Hunters...for only a few precious chode hunters are capable of getting a chode to "change teams."
Sadly, a debunking usually occurs after some sort of loss and pain...only acute humbleness can cause a chode to open his eyes...lessons that are painful usually produce the most growth...sometimes the Chode Hunter has to let go of a chode she loves for good in order for the debunking to happen...that is another reason she is a level 10 hunter...she is willing to sacrifice the love she has...to better the quality of man. (She has helped paved the way for this man to be good, for she has helped him learn from his mistakes.)
And I am still a level 7 chode hunter, and wish I had the strength be a level 10...one day...one day.
Now Let's rate a chode or two...
(Can you believe these encounters happened all in one night)
Encounter Four:
As I danced at the first show of the evening, the music was funky, and so were my moves. A chode wrapped his arm around me, stopping me in mid-dance move and pulled me close and said in my ear, "I want to take you out to dinner, you are the sexiest thing in this room." I firmly removed his hand from my waist and continued to dance, feverly looking around the room for my girlfriend who had gone searching for friends. The chode then stood directly in front of me and said "Are you not even going to fucking talk to me? Are you not even going to fucking say thank you?" I stopped dancing, looked him dead in the eye and walked away...(remember, sometimes there is no point in chode chatter.)
Chode Rating...times 90 (you fucked my groove up and you cussed at me...fuck you)
Encounter Five:
Having left the first show of the evening, I headed to the second...after saying hi to friends and taking pictures I headed to the bar to grab a bottle of water. There was a line, I like normal society got in the back of the line. A drunk chode stubbled up to the line, looked at it, looked at me at the end, and cut infront of a couple who were making out (can we please pay attention in line here peeps) As he waited for his beer he spun around in a slow circle with a smug smile on his face...(oh, the look of a dumb ass)...after purchasing his beer he turned and walked up to me. After spilling a bit of his beer on my toes (figures) he said, "Your cute, what is your name?"
I replied with, "My name is the girl who you just cut in line and spilled beer on, nice to meet you."...out came his bottom lip and the "huhhhh" look.
Chode Rating...times 30 (It is hard being a dumb ass)
Encounter Six:
The first part of this encounter happened as I approached the second venue...I said hello to some of the door guys that I know, one of them patted my ass and told me it was good to see me. I ignored it and talked to the other door guy that I knew...the chode that had grabbed my ass got mad, he said, "you can't talk to him, you are mine." I looked down at the leopard ring I had on my left hand's ring finger...turned to him and said...."I only belong to leopard" and walked inside thinking...chode.
As I went out to do one of my "air laps"...(I get hot)...the chode of a door guy grabbed my wrist and squeezed it hard and said "Oh, you ain't leaving"...I told him to let go of my wrist and that I was just getting air, I tried to pull my wrist away...he proceed to yank and twist my wrist pulling me towards him as I tried to pull away and said, "You are going home with me tonight."
I yelled "Let go of my fucking wrist"...and proceed to simply jump in a cab and leave the show before it ended.
Chode Rating...times infinity (not only did you ruin my show and make me yell in public, but you fucked my wrist up to the point that it is bruised and damaged and I have to tape it and it hurts at work...YOU SUCK)
Why oh why did I not bring my light saber that evening...I would have whomped some serious chode ass.
Maybe I should just start glittering all the chodes I meet so at least when they are being a rude dumb ass, they are sparkling and that will make me giggle.
And you got to giggle at the chodes...for they are stuck with themselves...and imagine having to deal with a dumb ass 24/7...that would be some free TV right there...totally
Dance move of the Week:
Roller Skating
Who does not like to Roller Skate...right. So get your skates moving, do a spin or two, don't forget that the brake is on the toe...use your arms for balance...now try to skate backwards...hey, it almost looks like you are "moon-walking"...now add some finger points...brake...go forward now...swing those arms...brake and spin...and repeat...when was the last time you roller skated?
For your basic definitions of "Chode" & all meaning involved with "Chode Hunting" please refer to Blog 31.
More definitions to add to your repertoire.
Chode Code:
This is a code that Chode Hunters use to alert their friends that they have been approached by a chode or to distance themselves from a chode...I have been known to yell "PIZZA" at random moments so my ladies know to come and save me (who would not come running for pizza)...when I am by myself I look at the chode who is hitting on me, smile big, and tell him,... "I only fuck chickens"...and walk away. This usually works and leaves them with the common "huhhhh" look on their face (making their bottom lip somewhat protrude out.)
This being said...be prepared for interesting come backs...the best one I received after telling a man that I only fucked chickens was...."Well Cock-a-doddle-do"...that one made me freeze dance for a moment.
Chode Chatter:
Have you ever talked to someone and felt minutes of your life wasting away...has it ever been a boy that is hitting on you in the lamest way possible...have you ever felt like blinking and blowing their heads up...This is "Chode Chatter"...Chodes tend to ask questions that they don't want answers to...its just part of their pick up line...a wonderful example of this is what happened to me this weekend...A man asked if I was Irish, I squinted my green eyes at him and tilted my red hair, not evening answering...he then asked, "Do you want so more in you?"
Precious seconds of my life...wasted...gone, never to return...on chode chatter (I think I heard that line once, when I was ten...maybe we need to come up with a "Chode Academy" to free the world of dumb asses.)
CIT (Chode in Training):
This is a younger man who has chode tendencies...and has older friends that are chodes...it is possible to save the young lad from the deep pit of stupidity of all that is chode...but the battle is fierce...glitter tends not even to work...and often the battle leads the chode hunter to copious amounts of drinking and gaining a minimum of 5lbs..
Ladies...sometimes this fight is pointless too...for a chode chicklet (baby chode) is started at a young age, just please remember this if you are to ever have a son...Do not raise a chode...raise a fucking man!
Debunking a Chode:
This is a rarity...and is only for level 10 Chode Hunters...for only a few precious chode hunters are capable of getting a chode to "change teams."
Sadly, a debunking usually occurs after some sort of loss and pain...only acute humbleness can cause a chode to open his eyes...lessons that are painful usually produce the most growth...sometimes the Chode Hunter has to let go of a chode she loves for good in order for the debunking to happen...that is another reason she is a level 10 hunter...she is willing to sacrifice the love she has...to better the quality of man. (She has helped paved the way for this man to be good, for she has helped him learn from his mistakes.)
And I am still a level 7 chode hunter, and wish I had the strength be a level 10...one day...one day.
Now Let's rate a chode or two...
(Can you believe these encounters happened all in one night)
Encounter Four:
As I danced at the first show of the evening, the music was funky, and so were my moves. A chode wrapped his arm around me, stopping me in mid-dance move and pulled me close and said in my ear, "I want to take you out to dinner, you are the sexiest thing in this room." I firmly removed his hand from my waist and continued to dance, feverly looking around the room for my girlfriend who had gone searching for friends. The chode then stood directly in front of me and said "Are you not even going to fucking talk to me? Are you not even going to fucking say thank you?" I stopped dancing, looked him dead in the eye and walked away...(remember, sometimes there is no point in chode chatter.)
Chode Rating...times 90 (you fucked my groove up and you cussed at me...fuck you)
Encounter Five:
Having left the first show of the evening, I headed to the second...after saying hi to friends and taking pictures I headed to the bar to grab a bottle of water. There was a line, I like normal society got in the back of the line. A drunk chode stubbled up to the line, looked at it, looked at me at the end, and cut infront of a couple who were making out (can we please pay attention in line here peeps) As he waited for his beer he spun around in a slow circle with a smug smile on his face...(oh, the look of a dumb ass)...after purchasing his beer he turned and walked up to me. After spilling a bit of his beer on my toes (figures) he said, "Your cute, what is your name?"
I replied with, "My name is the girl who you just cut in line and spilled beer on, nice to meet you."...out came his bottom lip and the "huhhhh" look.
Chode Rating...times 30 (It is hard being a dumb ass)
Encounter Six:
The first part of this encounter happened as I approached the second venue...I said hello to some of the door guys that I know, one of them patted my ass and told me it was good to see me. I ignored it and talked to the other door guy that I knew...the chode that had grabbed my ass got mad, he said, "you can't talk to him, you are mine." I looked down at the leopard ring I had on my left hand's ring finger...turned to him and said...."I only belong to leopard" and walked inside thinking...chode.
As I went out to do one of my "air laps"...(I get hot)...the chode of a door guy grabbed my wrist and squeezed it hard and said "Oh, you ain't leaving"...I told him to let go of my wrist and that I was just getting air, I tried to pull my wrist away...he proceed to yank and twist my wrist pulling me towards him as I tried to pull away and said, "You are going home with me tonight."
I yelled "Let go of my fucking wrist"...and proceed to simply jump in a cab and leave the show before it ended.
Chode Rating...times infinity (not only did you ruin my show and make me yell in public, but you fucked my wrist up to the point that it is bruised and damaged and I have to tape it and it hurts at work...YOU SUCK)
Why oh why did I not bring my light saber that evening...I would have whomped some serious chode ass.
Maybe I should just start glittering all the chodes I meet so at least when they are being a rude dumb ass, they are sparkling and that will make me giggle.
And you got to giggle at the chodes...for they are stuck with themselves...and imagine having to deal with a dumb ass 24/7...that would be some free TV right there...totally
Dance move of the Week:
Roller Skating
Who does not like to Roller Skate...right. So get your skates moving, do a spin or two, don't forget that the brake is on the toe...use your arms for balance...now try to skate backwards...hey, it almost looks like you are "moon-walking"...now add some finger points...brake...go forward now...swing those arms...brake and spin...and repeat...when was the last time you roller skated?
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Blog 51...To Sacrifice (Sabbatical Chronicles Part II)
Blog 51...To Sacrifice (Sabbatical Chronicles Part II)
Sacrifice: The act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else more important or worthy.
When is it proper to sacrifice?
When is it a good time to be selfish?
What is the deciding factor?
What...Who...is worth the sacrifice?
Is the sacrifice, the loss, the solitude.....does it justify the outcome?
What if… what we feel like is a sacrifice, is actually us opening the door to a possibility of a happiness we never knew existed?
What if we have to sacrifice what we think makes us happy, to truly be happy?
Should we be able to find happiness in anything?
Is it ever wrong to put our own wants before someone else's?
Is it always wrong?
What makes something or someone "Worth It."
When does one choose to Sacrifice and when does one choose to be Selfish?
These questions & others have been plaguing me all week.
When do we put other's needs in front of our own?
And when do we put our own personal needs before others...
When is it that our needs come first and others don’t?
Maybe to be truly happy we must sacrifice all that we deem worthy…for as the song goes… “You can’t always get what you want…but you get what you need...”
What is it that we truly need?
Or are all our wants and desires just things that we put in front of our happiness?
Do we really need anything?
Or can we just be happy… no matter what?
What if we sacrifice our wants in order to reach eternal happiness?
As I come to the realization that I must take a job offer that seems like some bad joke and as my personal world continues to swirl out of control…My dad’s voice echoes in my head…. “You must learn to surrender…surrender…surrender” …and yet sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble.
And as I think of what the word “sabbatical” truly means… I consider that this sabbatical that I think of…maybe a sabbatical not from sex but from WANT…from the things that I desire, from the need…that desire simply gets in the way of a chosen path that stands before me.
If I am truly to reach my throne as Queen… what sacrifice comes with it?
What eternal wonder is to follow?
Is it not all “worth it”
Who gets to decide what is more important than the others?
And if we ever truly sacrifice something that means so much to us…does in not return in some way or another…eventually… or is that just a pipe dream?
I have decided to stay true to my sabbatical …but maybe I didn’t really understand what I meant by saying “sabbatical” in the beginning…
I need to go outside of myself, and what I think makes me happy…and just be happy.
I need to step away from what I hold dear to truly understand what is important to me.
I need to lose my feelings of “want”… a Sabbatical from “want.”
It is a lesson that I need to learn.
And maybe in learning it…I can teach others the virtue of sacrifice.
Maybe if I put everything in front of my wants, and just do what brings happiness to others…I will find it.
Maybe I will encourage others to sacrifice “wants” for happiness…
Maybe I will inspire…
That would be awesomeness…times 11.
If that does not work…maybe I’ll go shopping…
Speaking of shopping…
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
FINDING A PAIR OF SHOES
All right…walk up and down the aisles…picking up a shoe here and there, find one that you like…make sure the soles bend (this is a trick of my mom’s to test if the shoe is going to be comfortable…if the bottom does not bend, it aint going to be comfy)…now take the shoes out of the box…slip one on ...do a half runway strut…got to have a “strut worthy” shoe…it works…its fly…you can do your dance moves in them (practice a couple..ie..”hop into the shower dance”)…oh yeah., these shoes totally work…you will take them….now strut your fly ass out the store…
Sacrifice: The act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else more important or worthy.
When is it proper to sacrifice?
When is it a good time to be selfish?
What is the deciding factor?
What...Who...is worth the sacrifice?
Is the sacrifice, the loss, the solitude.....does it justify the outcome?
What if… what we feel like is a sacrifice, is actually us opening the door to a possibility of a happiness we never knew existed?
What if we have to sacrifice what we think makes us happy, to truly be happy?
Should we be able to find happiness in anything?
Is it ever wrong to put our own wants before someone else's?
Is it always wrong?
What makes something or someone "Worth It."
When does one choose to Sacrifice and when does one choose to be Selfish?
These questions & others have been plaguing me all week.
When do we put other's needs in front of our own?
And when do we put our own personal needs before others...
When is it that our needs come first and others don’t?
Maybe to be truly happy we must sacrifice all that we deem worthy…for as the song goes… “You can’t always get what you want…but you get what you need...”
What is it that we truly need?
Or are all our wants and desires just things that we put in front of our happiness?
Do we really need anything?
Or can we just be happy… no matter what?
What if we sacrifice our wants in order to reach eternal happiness?
As I come to the realization that I must take a job offer that seems like some bad joke and as my personal world continues to swirl out of control…My dad’s voice echoes in my head…. “You must learn to surrender…surrender…surrender” …and yet sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble.
And as I think of what the word “sabbatical” truly means… I consider that this sabbatical that I think of…maybe a sabbatical not from sex but from WANT…from the things that I desire, from the need…that desire simply gets in the way of a chosen path that stands before me.
If I am truly to reach my throne as Queen… what sacrifice comes with it?
What eternal wonder is to follow?
Is it not all “worth it”
Who gets to decide what is more important than the others?
And if we ever truly sacrifice something that means so much to us…does in not return in some way or another…eventually… or is that just a pipe dream?
I have decided to stay true to my sabbatical …but maybe I didn’t really understand what I meant by saying “sabbatical” in the beginning…
I need to go outside of myself, and what I think makes me happy…and just be happy.
I need to step away from what I hold dear to truly understand what is important to me.
I need to lose my feelings of “want”… a Sabbatical from “want.”
It is a lesson that I need to learn.
And maybe in learning it…I can teach others the virtue of sacrifice.
Maybe if I put everything in front of my wants, and just do what brings happiness to others…I will find it.
Maybe I will encourage others to sacrifice “wants” for happiness…
Maybe I will inspire…
That would be awesomeness…times 11.
If that does not work…maybe I’ll go shopping…
Speaking of shopping…
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
FINDING A PAIR OF SHOES
All right…walk up and down the aisles…picking up a shoe here and there, find one that you like…make sure the soles bend (this is a trick of my mom’s to test if the shoe is going to be comfortable…if the bottom does not bend, it aint going to be comfy)…now take the shoes out of the box…slip one on ...do a half runway strut…got to have a “strut worthy” shoe…it works…its fly…you can do your dance moves in them (practice a couple..ie..”hop into the shower dance”)…oh yeah., these shoes totally work…you will take them….now strut your fly ass out the store…
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Blog 50...Opportunity came Knocking
Blog 50...Opportunity Came Knocking...
Opportunity came knocking this week, do I answer the door with a kind smile, or do I shut it with a polite "not interested" and wait patiently for it to knock again?
Yet I know this particular candyman will not return.
Opportunity came knocking this week, and it has taken me for a head spin that I did not see coming.
A look has taken over my face "contemplation" is its name...and making me a "confused ass individual" is its game.
Opportunity came in the form of a job offer that I must consider, even though I have no desire to.
I got offered a job that would free me from my current financial situation, in fact, it would set me up for life...in three years time, I would have the financial freedom to do what I see fit with my life.
I would have to be in charge again, gross, I hate being the mean one (but I am a good boss)...and I would have to work solid for three years and not take a lot of time off and be married to the job for 3 years...but after that course of time I would be a 25% percent owner of a company, only have to work 2 hours a week and make enough money a year that I could live modestly and travel, I could retire, I could start a 401k, I could see places I have never seen, I could help my friends start their own companies...open my own company again, I could consider having a child if I wanted to (I am in no financial position to even consider the notion of having a child now)...
For as much as money is a bitch, it sure does make shit a whole lot easier and you do get to do a whole bunch of more cool stuff...
Now why you might ask am I not opening the door for opportunity and offering it a steak dinner...
Well...it is a Dairy Queen...right, this totally threw me, me a princess, running a Dairy Queen and than owning it...me...and fryer oil on a daily basis...WHAT...but to only have to do it for three years and than be done, I could do it...
But the Dairy Queen is in SOUTH DAKOTA...
Yeah, close your mouth, I was stunned quiet for the first two minutes too...what kind of chicken fucker would offer me a job that would give me all this and than tell me it is in South Dakota...Yet I have been offered this job by a friend of my father, who knows my struggles, and my accomplishments, my work ethic and who wants with my parents for me to have a better life.
And don't I want a better life?
Is there such a thing as a life in South Dakota?
Where the fuck is South Dakota?
Do they have glitter in South Dakota?
Who the fuck lives in South Dakota?
Does the Warren Haynes Band come to South Dakota?
What if I do all this for a better life and I end up dying in South Dakota...ahhhhhhhhhhhh.
Are the promises of a better tomorrow, stronger than the happiness of today?
How happy am I really today?
I mean I love San Francisco, first and foremost my family is here and to leave them would tear me apart..I treasure having my parents a 15 minute car away, having them be such a part of my life has helped me gain a strength I never knew existed, they are my rock. (who the hell is going to keep an extra house key for me in case I get locked out)
But as much as I do not want to leave my parents, I want to make them happy, and I don't know if seeing their daughter struggle for money in the tenderloin makes them as proud of me as they could be.
Don't get me wrong, my parents are damm proud of me, and remind me constantly how far I have come...but life is not about all that you have done...it is about what you continue to do...
And improving myself in the financial arena, would get me out of the tenderloin, for as much as I love the tenderloin...in order for me to be a Queen I need to explore the world, and if that is my destiny, why would I not take this chance.
In all departments, why not take this chance?
I would not be around the friends I have made, I have worked hard to get into the careers that I have entered, I have made my life easier than I could have ever imagined in the city...I am a freaking Princess here peeps...and I love it...and I am so scared to give up my life of culture, music and color...
But I can always come back...I would love to come back with enough money that I can live in a place that I don't see crack getting smoked 30 times a day and maybe start a shelter or something to help those people on the street...
What if I have to leave to be able to come back and make a true difference?
But South Dakota...what kind of cruel "fuck you" is opportunity trying to pull on me...
Doesn't South Dakota have a shit ton of tornadoes?
And yet I have been speaking of Sabbatical...maybe I just need to take it to a whole new level...
I have not made my choice yet, but in the back of my mind, I don't know how I could pass up this opportunity even if it made me unhappy for three years....
And if I was unhappy, would it have anything to fucking do with South Dakota or just a whole lot to do with me?
Opportunity...You are a Chicken Fucker...times 10.
Thank you Opportunity for knocking at my door, my eyes have been opened to thoughts I never knew existed...now if you could have "Stop being Confused as Fuck" knock on my door next...I would greatly appreciate it...totally...cause he would get a steak dinner for sure.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK...
GRILLING THE STEAK...
There ain't nothing like grilled meat (not trying to offend any vegetarians here...what ever makes you happy, besides...more meat for me)...
So start by squirting your lighter fluid on the charcoal, now light it...WOW, holy crap, you put a shit ton of fluid on that bad boy, whew...that made you step back...Let the grill warm up as you check to make sure you still got eye lashes and all that important action...now grab your plate of steak...season those babies with some salt & pepper and toss them on the grill...as you drink beer and chat with your friends keep an eye on your meet...flip it every once in a while and poke at it...beer is finished = steak probably done...take those bad boys off the grill (you can let them rest while you go grab another beer)...MEAT TIME.
Opportunity came knocking this week, do I answer the door with a kind smile, or do I shut it with a polite "not interested" and wait patiently for it to knock again?
Yet I know this particular candyman will not return.
Opportunity came knocking this week, and it has taken me for a head spin that I did not see coming.
A look has taken over my face "contemplation" is its name...and making me a "confused ass individual" is its game.
Opportunity came in the form of a job offer that I must consider, even though I have no desire to.
I got offered a job that would free me from my current financial situation, in fact, it would set me up for life...in three years time, I would have the financial freedom to do what I see fit with my life.
I would have to be in charge again, gross, I hate being the mean one (but I am a good boss)...and I would have to work solid for three years and not take a lot of time off and be married to the job for 3 years...but after that course of time I would be a 25% percent owner of a company, only have to work 2 hours a week and make enough money a year that I could live modestly and travel, I could retire, I could start a 401k, I could see places I have never seen, I could help my friends start their own companies...open my own company again, I could consider having a child if I wanted to (I am in no financial position to even consider the notion of having a child now)...
For as much as money is a bitch, it sure does make shit a whole lot easier and you do get to do a whole bunch of more cool stuff...
Now why you might ask am I not opening the door for opportunity and offering it a steak dinner...
Well...it is a Dairy Queen...right, this totally threw me, me a princess, running a Dairy Queen and than owning it...me...and fryer oil on a daily basis...WHAT...but to only have to do it for three years and than be done, I could do it...
But the Dairy Queen is in SOUTH DAKOTA...
Yeah, close your mouth, I was stunned quiet for the first two minutes too...what kind of chicken fucker would offer me a job that would give me all this and than tell me it is in South Dakota...Yet I have been offered this job by a friend of my father, who knows my struggles, and my accomplishments, my work ethic and who wants with my parents for me to have a better life.
And don't I want a better life?
Is there such a thing as a life in South Dakota?
Where the fuck is South Dakota?
Do they have glitter in South Dakota?
Who the fuck lives in South Dakota?
Does the Warren Haynes Band come to South Dakota?
What if I do all this for a better life and I end up dying in South Dakota...ahhhhhhhhhhhh.
Are the promises of a better tomorrow, stronger than the happiness of today?
How happy am I really today?
I mean I love San Francisco, first and foremost my family is here and to leave them would tear me apart..I treasure having my parents a 15 minute car away, having them be such a part of my life has helped me gain a strength I never knew existed, they are my rock. (who the hell is going to keep an extra house key for me in case I get locked out)
But as much as I do not want to leave my parents, I want to make them happy, and I don't know if seeing their daughter struggle for money in the tenderloin makes them as proud of me as they could be.
Don't get me wrong, my parents are damm proud of me, and remind me constantly how far I have come...but life is not about all that you have done...it is about what you continue to do...
And improving myself in the financial arena, would get me out of the tenderloin, for as much as I love the tenderloin...in order for me to be a Queen I need to explore the world, and if that is my destiny, why would I not take this chance.
In all departments, why not take this chance?
I would not be around the friends I have made, I have worked hard to get into the careers that I have entered, I have made my life easier than I could have ever imagined in the city...I am a freaking Princess here peeps...and I love it...and I am so scared to give up my life of culture, music and color...
But I can always come back...I would love to come back with enough money that I can live in a place that I don't see crack getting smoked 30 times a day and maybe start a shelter or something to help those people on the street...
What if I have to leave to be able to come back and make a true difference?
But South Dakota...what kind of cruel "fuck you" is opportunity trying to pull on me...
Doesn't South Dakota have a shit ton of tornadoes?
And yet I have been speaking of Sabbatical...maybe I just need to take it to a whole new level...
I have not made my choice yet, but in the back of my mind, I don't know how I could pass up this opportunity even if it made me unhappy for three years....
And if I was unhappy, would it have anything to fucking do with South Dakota or just a whole lot to do with me?
Opportunity...You are a Chicken Fucker...times 10.
Thank you Opportunity for knocking at my door, my eyes have been opened to thoughts I never knew existed...now if you could have "Stop being Confused as Fuck" knock on my door next...I would greatly appreciate it...totally...cause he would get a steak dinner for sure.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK...
GRILLING THE STEAK...
There ain't nothing like grilled meat (not trying to offend any vegetarians here...what ever makes you happy, besides...more meat for me)...
So start by squirting your lighter fluid on the charcoal, now light it...WOW, holy crap, you put a shit ton of fluid on that bad boy, whew...that made you step back...Let the grill warm up as you check to make sure you still got eye lashes and all that important action...now grab your plate of steak...season those babies with some salt & pepper and toss them on the grill...as you drink beer and chat with your friends keep an eye on your meet...flip it every once in a while and poke at it...beer is finished = steak probably done...take those bad boys off the grill (you can let them rest while you go grab another beer)...MEAT TIME.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Blog 49...It aint easy being Cute
Blog 49...It aint easy being Cute...
As I walked home the other night, bawling my eyes out, I prayed for my psoriasis to come back and ravage my body again, to make me like a leper again...so that I would not have to deal with the pains of being cute, and that people who wanted to be with me, would want me for what is inside and not what I look like on the outside.
For it is not easy being cute.
I could not wear nice dresses, not go on butt walks, I could stand still at shows and ignore the electric current the music jets through my body...but it makes me feel so good when I work out, wear a beautiful dress or dance my ass off...but I don't want the attention that comes with it...How do I find a happy medium?
I would like to walk down the street and not get whistled and gawked at. (my favorite is when they get mad that I don't respond to the cat-call...how does one respond to "ohhhh red, what a view from behind, I could bite that ass."....how I wish I could have the power to blink and blow someone's head up)
I would like to go to a show and not have a married man hit on me and than get mad when he gets called out on it. How was I suppose to know that I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that you were hitting on me (obviously I told the wrong person cause they just made the shit storm worse...but it never would have happen if the man with the ring around his finger didn't ask me to make out with him in a closet via text...in his world, texts don't have "tone" so it wasn't coming on to me...It aint easy being cute, but at least I'm not a dumb ass.)
I would like to go to a show and not have women get jealous of me. I don't want your fucking man, for god sake, I am on sexual sabbatical, my love life is enough of a shit storm, I do not need to add to the hurricane. And I don't want a man that is in a relationship. That is to much shit storm for me, too much bad karma...no thank you...I don't go out looking for dudes, it is not my thing. I would like to smoke a joint with both of you, get to know you, groove to the music...cause I would always like more friendly faces to say hi to...
Even friends get mad at me for being cute. It really sucks when someone who is suppose to be your good girl friend gets jealous of you. To put so much time and effort into a friendship and then just have her shit on it cause boys that she likes pay attention to me (not even hit on me, just pay attention)...well darlin, just a side note, they might pay more attention to you if you didn't have that ugly jealousy mask all over your fucking face, cause that shit is far from attractive.
I would like to go to a show and not get hit on period. Not be followed around by a complete chode who every five minutes wraps his arms around my waist and tells me "I own the barber shop next door, you should come and check it out." I don't give a fuck what you own, what you do, I don't give a flying fuck, I am at a show, I am here to listen to music...SHUT THE FUCK UP.
And if you are going to talk to me, talk to me about shit that matters, not how you want to get with me, cause you don't even know me.
I guess that is what I don't get.
I don't think I'm cute cause of how I look.
I'm cute cause I am a ding dong, have a high voice, say odd things that crack you up, have good intentions, am a sweetheart, give "snugglets" as hugs and so forth.
And you have to know me, to know that about me.
When I told my girlfriend that the married man had hit on me (I hadn't realized he was married at that point...we both hadn't) she asked how I felt about it, I said "I don't know...I don't know him, I don't find someone cute unless I know them."
"Yeah, your weird like that" she responded.
To me, that is not bizarre, it is reality. After having psoriasis all over my body, being covered with spots from head to toe, I just don't see "cute" in the same eyes.
Beauty or cuteness of the skin level comes and goes...but what is inside, shines...incandescently.
And that is what kills me so much...that it aint easy being the kind of "cute" that a lot of people think of.
But it is hella easy to be my kinda "cute"...
You just be you.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE CHAINSAW
So before you do this dance move, make sure you have some distance from the person behind you...you don't want to go elbowing people in the face.
All right, safety first, pull down your goggles, then just like the lawnmower, you got to prime...pump that shit, three times should do the trick, now pull that string back...it is all about the follow through (hence the distance between you and the person behind you)...you might have to pull it about 3 times before it starts, but you will know when you got it cause your body starts to shake instantly, now turn the saw, get your sawing stance on (mine is the left foot at 10 and the right at 5) and saw that fucking log bitches.
As I walked home the other night, bawling my eyes out, I prayed for my psoriasis to come back and ravage my body again, to make me like a leper again...so that I would not have to deal with the pains of being cute, and that people who wanted to be with me, would want me for what is inside and not what I look like on the outside.
For it is not easy being cute.
I could not wear nice dresses, not go on butt walks, I could stand still at shows and ignore the electric current the music jets through my body...but it makes me feel so good when I work out, wear a beautiful dress or dance my ass off...but I don't want the attention that comes with it...How do I find a happy medium?
I would like to walk down the street and not get whistled and gawked at. (my favorite is when they get mad that I don't respond to the cat-call...how does one respond to "ohhhh red, what a view from behind, I could bite that ass."....how I wish I could have the power to blink and blow someone's head up)
I would like to go to a show and not have a married man hit on me and than get mad when he gets called out on it. How was I suppose to know that I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that you were hitting on me (obviously I told the wrong person cause they just made the shit storm worse...but it never would have happen if the man with the ring around his finger didn't ask me to make out with him in a closet via text...in his world, texts don't have "tone" so it wasn't coming on to me...It aint easy being cute, but at least I'm not a dumb ass.)
I would like to go to a show and not have women get jealous of me. I don't want your fucking man, for god sake, I am on sexual sabbatical, my love life is enough of a shit storm, I do not need to add to the hurricane. And I don't want a man that is in a relationship. That is to much shit storm for me, too much bad karma...no thank you...I don't go out looking for dudes, it is not my thing. I would like to smoke a joint with both of you, get to know you, groove to the music...cause I would always like more friendly faces to say hi to...
Even friends get mad at me for being cute. It really sucks when someone who is suppose to be your good girl friend gets jealous of you. To put so much time and effort into a friendship and then just have her shit on it cause boys that she likes pay attention to me (not even hit on me, just pay attention)...well darlin, just a side note, they might pay more attention to you if you didn't have that ugly jealousy mask all over your fucking face, cause that shit is far from attractive.
I would like to go to a show and not get hit on period. Not be followed around by a complete chode who every five minutes wraps his arms around my waist and tells me "I own the barber shop next door, you should come and check it out." I don't give a fuck what you own, what you do, I don't give a flying fuck, I am at a show, I am here to listen to music...SHUT THE FUCK UP.
And if you are going to talk to me, talk to me about shit that matters, not how you want to get with me, cause you don't even know me.
I guess that is what I don't get.
I don't think I'm cute cause of how I look.
I'm cute cause I am a ding dong, have a high voice, say odd things that crack you up, have good intentions, am a sweetheart, give "snugglets" as hugs and so forth.
And you have to know me, to know that about me.
When I told my girlfriend that the married man had hit on me (I hadn't realized he was married at that point...we both hadn't) she asked how I felt about it, I said "I don't know...I don't know him, I don't find someone cute unless I know them."
"Yeah, your weird like that" she responded.
To me, that is not bizarre, it is reality. After having psoriasis all over my body, being covered with spots from head to toe, I just don't see "cute" in the same eyes.
Beauty or cuteness of the skin level comes and goes...but what is inside, shines...incandescently.
And that is what kills me so much...that it aint easy being the kind of "cute" that a lot of people think of.
But it is hella easy to be my kinda "cute"...
You just be you.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE CHAINSAW
So before you do this dance move, make sure you have some distance from the person behind you...you don't want to go elbowing people in the face.
All right, safety first, pull down your goggles, then just like the lawnmower, you got to prime...pump that shit, three times should do the trick, now pull that string back...it is all about the follow through (hence the distance between you and the person behind you)...you might have to pull it about 3 times before it starts, but you will know when you got it cause your body starts to shake instantly, now turn the saw, get your sawing stance on (mine is the left foot at 10 and the right at 5) and saw that fucking log bitches.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Blog 48...To Forgive (Sabbatical Chronicles Part I)
Blog 48...To Forgive (Sabbatical Chronicles Part I)
Well I have made it a week into my Sexual Sabbatical, I think I gained 3 pounds, I am totally blaming it on the no sex thing...totally.
I sure the hell have been thinking a lot more, and trying to give myself more alone time with my phone off to just let myself swim in the river of thoughts flowing through my brain...I had no idea the tributary was so fucking deep...damm.
And while taking this time to figure out what I need and what I want, something my dad said to me about a year ago keeps flashing in my head.
I probably would have not even remembered it if my mom didn’t keep on pestering me about Thanksgiving plans...she wants me to join the family up in Brookings, Oregon...I went last year, it was the first time I had been back since the Thanksgiving that I decided to leave my ex-husband...when I went last year, it rocked me. All these memories of letting go flooded my head, I know I had made the right decision leaving my husband, but that by no means made it an easy choice...
I remember just bursting out into tears over the phone with my dad after the holiday trip, still trying to comprehend what exactly I was feeling...
My dad said...I had to forgive, I had to forgive my ex-husband, and I had to forgive myself.
I appreciated at first note what my father was preaching...and I strived hard for some time to forgive my ex-husband.
I think I finally reached that point to forgive him about four months ago when I found out he had a child with another woman.
For no matter how I feel about him, my feelings pale in importance to that of a child, a fresh face of life...and even though the news brought up memories of my own miscarriage and an odd feeling of my capabilities as “a woman”...any feelings of malice I had towards him, simply washed away.
I forgave him...
And on I went, doing my royal duties...and the closer the holiday season approaches, the more my mom keeps on bringing up the “thanksgiving thing” the more I fight it...the other day as I was on one of my late night walks the thought of going to Brookings flashed in my head, I recalled how upset I got last year... and in an instant, I knew why I did not want to go.
My dad’s words flashed in my head and I realized I had forgotten to accomplish the last part of his advice...I had to forgive myself.
I haven’t forgiven myself and I should.
I need to...
It is what is holding me back.
I learned so much from the mistakes that I made, from my loss, and I have climbed so high and even though I have struggled every step...I keep on walking up my hill.
The little girl I was when I met my husband, was the not the woman who left him, and is a mere shadow of the princess I am today.
I need to forgive myself for what I think was a mistake.
Marrying my ex-husband was not a mistake, it was a choice I made in my life that helped me become who I am today, and that is fucking awesomeness...and there is nothing fucking wrong with being awesomeness (especially when it is awesomeness times 11)
And finding the strength to leave a marriage that we were both unhappy in...that is proof of my veracity as a woman.
One cannot forgive oneself in a thought...
But the concept can kindle the fires of self-forgiveness which only time can ignite...
And it’s not like I can’t light a fire here peeps...
(and if there is a fire, can we please have smores...please)
DANCE OF THE WEEK
(this is another one of my lame affirmation dances, but whatever...you like it)
FORGIVING YOURSELF
Go saunter your hot ass in the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror...and tell yourself that you forgive yourself...for being a dumb ass, a chicken fucker, a ding dong, a bad friend, a bad lover, being selfish, not doing what is always right...anything that you do that you know is not being the best you, you can be...forgive yourself and be done with it...RELEASE
Well I have made it a week into my Sexual Sabbatical, I think I gained 3 pounds, I am totally blaming it on the no sex thing...totally.
I sure the hell have been thinking a lot more, and trying to give myself more alone time with my phone off to just let myself swim in the river of thoughts flowing through my brain...I had no idea the tributary was so fucking deep...damm.
And while taking this time to figure out what I need and what I want, something my dad said to me about a year ago keeps flashing in my head.
I probably would have not even remembered it if my mom didn’t keep on pestering me about Thanksgiving plans...she wants me to join the family up in Brookings, Oregon...I went last year, it was the first time I had been back since the Thanksgiving that I decided to leave my ex-husband...when I went last year, it rocked me. All these memories of letting go flooded my head, I know I had made the right decision leaving my husband, but that by no means made it an easy choice...
I remember just bursting out into tears over the phone with my dad after the holiday trip, still trying to comprehend what exactly I was feeling...
My dad said...I had to forgive, I had to forgive my ex-husband, and I had to forgive myself.
I appreciated at first note what my father was preaching...and I strived hard for some time to forgive my ex-husband.
I think I finally reached that point to forgive him about four months ago when I found out he had a child with another woman.
For no matter how I feel about him, my feelings pale in importance to that of a child, a fresh face of life...and even though the news brought up memories of my own miscarriage and an odd feeling of my capabilities as “a woman”...any feelings of malice I had towards him, simply washed away.
I forgave him...
And on I went, doing my royal duties...and the closer the holiday season approaches, the more my mom keeps on bringing up the “thanksgiving thing” the more I fight it...the other day as I was on one of my late night walks the thought of going to Brookings flashed in my head, I recalled how upset I got last year... and in an instant, I knew why I did not want to go.
My dad’s words flashed in my head and I realized I had forgotten to accomplish the last part of his advice...I had to forgive myself.
I haven’t forgiven myself and I should.
I need to...
It is what is holding me back.
I learned so much from the mistakes that I made, from my loss, and I have climbed so high and even though I have struggled every step...I keep on walking up my hill.
The little girl I was when I met my husband, was the not the woman who left him, and is a mere shadow of the princess I am today.
I need to forgive myself for what I think was a mistake.
Marrying my ex-husband was not a mistake, it was a choice I made in my life that helped me become who I am today, and that is fucking awesomeness...and there is nothing fucking wrong with being awesomeness (especially when it is awesomeness times 11)
And finding the strength to leave a marriage that we were both unhappy in...that is proof of my veracity as a woman.
One cannot forgive oneself in a thought...
But the concept can kindle the fires of self-forgiveness which only time can ignite...
And it’s not like I can’t light a fire here peeps...
(and if there is a fire, can we please have smores...please)
DANCE OF THE WEEK
(this is another one of my lame affirmation dances, but whatever...you like it)
FORGIVING YOURSELF
Go saunter your hot ass in the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror...and tell yourself that you forgive yourself...for being a dumb ass, a chicken fucker, a ding dong, a bad friend, a bad lover, being selfish, not doing what is always right...anything that you do that you know is not being the best you, you can be...forgive yourself and be done with it...RELEASE
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Blog 47... Sexual Sabbatical (Love Tales IV)
Blog 47... Sexual Sabbatical (Love Tales IV)
[Love Tales 1-3 are blogs 10,17 &35]
Did I really tell myself no sex for at least 2 months/up to 6 months...YIKES.
Why did no one slap me upside the head on this decision? (I could have really used it)
And since I have been 18, I have only gone without having sex for this long during my stints with psoriasis...I expect the path ahead to be laborious...but hey, I am one tough lady, and if anyone can do it...it shall be me.
So off on Sabbatical I go...because sometimes you need to get your house in order, and I have some spring-cleaning to do (crap does that still make sense if it is fall)
But a couple of blogs ago I called my friends out, and people tend to react in two ways when you call them out...they either get angry and pissed off, or realize that you wouldn’t be telling them this shit about themselves if you really didn’t care and they look at themselves and see their faults.
And while I had one react the first way, the other reacted the second way...and when you make people look in the mirror, it is only fair that you stand in front of the looking glass too, and sometimes the reflection...isn’t everything you wanted to see.
While my reflection was one of beauty and pureness, it was missing a brightness and a certain confidence.
Now when it comes to looks and intentions...I am confident and know my goodness shines incandescently...but my path is where I lack conviction...I need to figure out what I want to do in life...what makes me happy.
The one thing I lack true pride in is my occupation (not all of them, just the one I make my money on) while I do the best I can, it is not my dream job, and why should I not strive for everything that I want and more.
I also lack confidence in knowing what I want in a relationship...Do I want a committed relationship? Do I want to have a couple lovers? Do I want no relationship at all? ...I do know I want to be treated well and to be happy...so at least that is a start.
And I cannot give to another properly if I have not acknowledged my needs, and tended to them. And made myself all I can be.
And having just gotten out of a relationship that really fucked with my head and heart...I cannot jump into another without taking time to mourn...or to ponder why it did not work and to gaze upon myself and see what I could have done better, how I contributed to the failure of this union.
And in trying to sort out the deterioration, my inner light hit the mirror in a way that the reflection blinded me for a while...and as I prayed for the light to lose sharpness...I realized that me being horny and being sexual, was not helping me get any lucidity...(especially when you are still messed up from your last relationship...I am never going to treat someone right, especially one who treats me so right, if I do not get over my issues of the heart that this last partnership created.)
And maybe if I shut off the lower half of my body, I can focus on healing my head and my heart. And bringing myself to the place I want to be in life.
I mean, I know I can get laid, shit I even know I am awesomeness times infinity when it comes to sex...so why waste time on that chapter...(this sabbatical crap is going to be tough)
Sometimes (a lot of times) I feel boys just want to fuck me, they don’t want to be my friend or partner, cause while I am great in bed, I am a freaking princess, and it takes a lot of work and effort to have me in someone’s life, and many a time, people are not willing to put forth the effort. (lazy chicken fuckers)
And I am worth the work...times 11.
I need to remind myself of that.
And the less reminding I will need, the more I fulfill my own needs and dreams.
This will be an opportunity to find out who wants me for me, and what I am on the inside, not just what I feel like on the inside.
And I pray my head might clear and the answers might start emerging from the darkness if I start growing true friendships with the people I would consider being in a relationship with...and the fact that I bring the house down in bed has nothing to do with them wanting to be with me...it will just be an added bonus...(like the frosting on a cupcake)
Cause let’s be honest, as good as I am in bed, pales in the comparison to the person that I am.
Off on sabbatical I go...(are we there yet?)
God help the poor man that I break it with...we might have to start installing seatbelts on my bed....just saying.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
EATING THE CUPCAKE
Start by unwrapping the cupcake...take a little lick of frosting (maybe two, the frosting is pretty fucking good) then tear off the bottom of the cupcake and start to nibble on that. This leaves you with a more equal cupcake to frosting ratio...which I prefer. Then, holding what is left of the cupcake, eat all the edges first, leaving the center bite as the last...gaze at it lovingly, and devour...ain’t nothing like a cupcake, especially a red-velvet one...
[Love Tales 1-3 are blogs 10,17 &35]
Did I really tell myself no sex for at least 2 months/up to 6 months...YIKES.
Why did no one slap me upside the head on this decision? (I could have really used it)
And since I have been 18, I have only gone without having sex for this long during my stints with psoriasis...I expect the path ahead to be laborious...but hey, I am one tough lady, and if anyone can do it...it shall be me.
So off on Sabbatical I go...because sometimes you need to get your house in order, and I have some spring-cleaning to do (crap does that still make sense if it is fall)
But a couple of blogs ago I called my friends out, and people tend to react in two ways when you call them out...they either get angry and pissed off, or realize that you wouldn’t be telling them this shit about themselves if you really didn’t care and they look at themselves and see their faults.
And while I had one react the first way, the other reacted the second way...and when you make people look in the mirror, it is only fair that you stand in front of the looking glass too, and sometimes the reflection...isn’t everything you wanted to see.
While my reflection was one of beauty and pureness, it was missing a brightness and a certain confidence.
Now when it comes to looks and intentions...I am confident and know my goodness shines incandescently...but my path is where I lack conviction...I need to figure out what I want to do in life...what makes me happy.
The one thing I lack true pride in is my occupation (not all of them, just the one I make my money on) while I do the best I can, it is not my dream job, and why should I not strive for everything that I want and more.
I also lack confidence in knowing what I want in a relationship...Do I want a committed relationship? Do I want to have a couple lovers? Do I want no relationship at all? ...I do know I want to be treated well and to be happy...so at least that is a start.
And I cannot give to another properly if I have not acknowledged my needs, and tended to them. And made myself all I can be.
And having just gotten out of a relationship that really fucked with my head and heart...I cannot jump into another without taking time to mourn...or to ponder why it did not work and to gaze upon myself and see what I could have done better, how I contributed to the failure of this union.
And in trying to sort out the deterioration, my inner light hit the mirror in a way that the reflection blinded me for a while...and as I prayed for the light to lose sharpness...I realized that me being horny and being sexual, was not helping me get any lucidity...(especially when you are still messed up from your last relationship...I am never going to treat someone right, especially one who treats me so right, if I do not get over my issues of the heart that this last partnership created.)
And maybe if I shut off the lower half of my body, I can focus on healing my head and my heart. And bringing myself to the place I want to be in life.
I mean, I know I can get laid, shit I even know I am awesomeness times infinity when it comes to sex...so why waste time on that chapter...(this sabbatical crap is going to be tough)
Sometimes (a lot of times) I feel boys just want to fuck me, they don’t want to be my friend or partner, cause while I am great in bed, I am a freaking princess, and it takes a lot of work and effort to have me in someone’s life, and many a time, people are not willing to put forth the effort. (lazy chicken fuckers)
And I am worth the work...times 11.
I need to remind myself of that.
And the less reminding I will need, the more I fulfill my own needs and dreams.
This will be an opportunity to find out who wants me for me, and what I am on the inside, not just what I feel like on the inside.
And I pray my head might clear and the answers might start emerging from the darkness if I start growing true friendships with the people I would consider being in a relationship with...and the fact that I bring the house down in bed has nothing to do with them wanting to be with me...it will just be an added bonus...(like the frosting on a cupcake)
Cause let’s be honest, as good as I am in bed, pales in the comparison to the person that I am.
Off on sabbatical I go...(are we there yet?)
God help the poor man that I break it with...we might have to start installing seatbelts on my bed....just saying.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
EATING THE CUPCAKE
Start by unwrapping the cupcake...take a little lick of frosting (maybe two, the frosting is pretty fucking good) then tear off the bottom of the cupcake and start to nibble on that. This leaves you with a more equal cupcake to frosting ratio...which I prefer. Then, holding what is left of the cupcake, eat all the edges first, leaving the center bite as the last...gaze at it lovingly, and devour...ain’t nothing like a cupcake, especially a red-velvet one...
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Blog 46...They called me a Tramp...ohhhh
Blog 46...They called me a TRAMP...ohhhh
An ex-boyfriend (I think in trying to win me back, ummm, not a smart move honey) said that someone I knew had called me a tramp...
I was confused for a second because in the Dictionary the proper meaning of “tramp” is a vagrant or a beggar...and I have princess dresses and sparkles and really smell good (and my doctor says I am “pristine”)...so I pondered it for a moment, but then, after examining the dictionary I found the slag term and it said “a promiscuous woman”
Well a couple things peeps...you know nothing of my bedroom unless you have got a camera in it, and have I not mentioned that for the first year of high school I was tormented with the name “fire muff” so you all are going to have to come up with some seriously better vocabulary to be able to knock this princess down.
It is funny how people feel so ready to judge when they know nothing.
From the time I met my husband, I slept with no one else for 10 years until I decided to leave him, at that point I needed to sleep with someone to help give me strength to not go back.
Now after leaving my husband, I did not want a serious relationship...and I had some fun.
For about 1 year out of the past 3 years I have had psoriasis and whenever I had psoriasis I didn’t have sex with anyone...Thank God I am in remission...
So that leaves two years total of me having “tramp time”
Because I like sex...does that make me a tramp?
Or is it because when I knew I didn’t want a relationship I would find men I found attractive and who I assumed had a good size cock and ask them if they wanted to have non-committal sex...
Cause guess what peeps, I would get horny!
And vibrators just don’t do it for me.
Does that make me a tramp? Cause I was able to carry on sex-only relationships with people, who I still consider my friends...I thought I was being adult about that shit...(you know, not one of the boys ever said no when I asked, they said they felt pretty honored, and admired my honesty)
Is it cause I wrote in my blog that I give good head? Well shit, if you had my kind of talent you would fucking write about that shit too.
Is it cause a lot a boys try to get with me? Don’t get mad at me cause I’m cute. And, I have had many a men in my bed who I did not sleep with, and if you told them I was a tramp they would be like, “damm, what was wrong with me cause she kept on doing the slap away with me.”
(how many times do I have to mention that I am a base girl)
Am I a tramp because I love love, and because even though I have tried to turn myself against love, I can’t? As much as I love dating restriction, I love being in love and the feeling...the natural high...and I believe that one day I will find my king...
Is it cause I slept with that 20 year old?...Hey, in my defense, I told him “No” a bunch of times, but alas, one night I got horny and told him that as long as he viewed it as “educational” we could have sex...I would teach him the art of “connecting and pleasing a woman.”
He didn’t think I was a tramp...He told me I “took him to a new level of consciousness” and was “a Yoda”...tramp to one person, Yoda to the next, we all have our own perceptions of things I guess.
Is it cause, until recently, for over a past year I was in a non-committal relationship? Well I wanted to commit but he said “No” (I have learned now he told others that I was his girlfriend...ummmm, you might have wanted to tell me darlin.) And at times in that relationship I would get hurt and feel malice and go have sex with one of my “fuck-buddies”...hey, you are the one that said we weren’t committed, pardon me for proving your point...that shit fucked with me, it really did...I never cheated in committed relationships and being told it was okay for me to see other people just baffled me.
Maybe it is because sometimes I am a dumb ass and believes a man when he says he wants to be with me and treat me good, but he is full of shit...(I think this is a lesson I have learned a bunch and can totally pick out quickly now, or would hope to)
Maybe it is because I am really picky when it comes to dudes and when someone crosses my line or starts to bug me, I am just done and move on.
Is it cause I don’t stay single for that long, or at least, I go on a good amount of dates? Hey don’t hate cause I am a fucking special ass woman.
Do these things make me a tramp?
Who gives a fuck?
So I am a tramp in some people’s eyes, I bet some people see me as a bitch too, or a chicken fucker...I also know that others view me as the vision of “total awesomeness” or this is what I have been told, others view me as a friend, a ding dong, a prude, selfless, selfish, a yoda, an inspiration to live, to be themselves and embrace who they are...at least I’m well rounded bitches...
You don’t like some of the shit I do, don’t do it. We all learn from each others mistakes and lessons...and I learn from my mistakes and lessons...I have fucking learned a lot.
So call me whatever the fuck you want
I know my veracity as a woman, and my opinion of myself, is the only one that really matters.
Besides, I call enough people “Chicken Fuckers” that I am bound to get some name calling my way...
Can we do me a favor though, please? The next time anyone decides to call me a name, can we do a reference check so I don’t have to pull out the old dictionary in confusion...where in the world did proper English go?
Next thing you know people will go around calling people chicken fuckers and ding dongs...
Let’s all pray that day never happens...totally.
DANCE OF THE WEEK
SHOOTING FOR THE STARS...
So a big part of this dance is the stance, cause a bow and arrow tend to have some weight and you need to be able to control the direction of flight. I put my right foot at 1:00 and my left foot at 8:00. Make your left hand into the shape of a V so you can hold the bow and guide the arrow. With your right hand grab the stretchy part of the bow and the back part of the arrow and pull it back tight. Now aim the arrow up high, kinda squint your eyes...and let the arrow fly...and repeat...
An ex-boyfriend (I think in trying to win me back, ummm, not a smart move honey) said that someone I knew had called me a tramp...
I was confused for a second because in the Dictionary the proper meaning of “tramp” is a vagrant or a beggar...and I have princess dresses and sparkles and really smell good (and my doctor says I am “pristine”)...so I pondered it for a moment, but then, after examining the dictionary I found the slag term and it said “a promiscuous woman”
Well a couple things peeps...you know nothing of my bedroom unless you have got a camera in it, and have I not mentioned that for the first year of high school I was tormented with the name “fire muff” so you all are going to have to come up with some seriously better vocabulary to be able to knock this princess down.
It is funny how people feel so ready to judge when they know nothing.
From the time I met my husband, I slept with no one else for 10 years until I decided to leave him, at that point I needed to sleep with someone to help give me strength to not go back.
Now after leaving my husband, I did not want a serious relationship...and I had some fun.
For about 1 year out of the past 3 years I have had psoriasis and whenever I had psoriasis I didn’t have sex with anyone...Thank God I am in remission...
So that leaves two years total of me having “tramp time”
Because I like sex...does that make me a tramp?
Or is it because when I knew I didn’t want a relationship I would find men I found attractive and who I assumed had a good size cock and ask them if they wanted to have non-committal sex...
Cause guess what peeps, I would get horny!
And vibrators just don’t do it for me.
Does that make me a tramp? Cause I was able to carry on sex-only relationships with people, who I still consider my friends...I thought I was being adult about that shit...(you know, not one of the boys ever said no when I asked, they said they felt pretty honored, and admired my honesty)
Is it cause I wrote in my blog that I give good head? Well shit, if you had my kind of talent you would fucking write about that shit too.
Is it cause a lot a boys try to get with me? Don’t get mad at me cause I’m cute. And, I have had many a men in my bed who I did not sleep with, and if you told them I was a tramp they would be like, “damm, what was wrong with me cause she kept on doing the slap away with me.”
(how many times do I have to mention that I am a base girl)
Am I a tramp because I love love, and because even though I have tried to turn myself against love, I can’t? As much as I love dating restriction, I love being in love and the feeling...the natural high...and I believe that one day I will find my king...
Is it cause I slept with that 20 year old?...Hey, in my defense, I told him “No” a bunch of times, but alas, one night I got horny and told him that as long as he viewed it as “educational” we could have sex...I would teach him the art of “connecting and pleasing a woman.”
He didn’t think I was a tramp...He told me I “took him to a new level of consciousness” and was “a Yoda”...tramp to one person, Yoda to the next, we all have our own perceptions of things I guess.
Is it cause, until recently, for over a past year I was in a non-committal relationship? Well I wanted to commit but he said “No” (I have learned now he told others that I was his girlfriend...ummmm, you might have wanted to tell me darlin.) And at times in that relationship I would get hurt and feel malice and go have sex with one of my “fuck-buddies”...hey, you are the one that said we weren’t committed, pardon me for proving your point...that shit fucked with me, it really did...I never cheated in committed relationships and being told it was okay for me to see other people just baffled me.
Maybe it is because sometimes I am a dumb ass and believes a man when he says he wants to be with me and treat me good, but he is full of shit...(I think this is a lesson I have learned a bunch and can totally pick out quickly now, or would hope to)
Maybe it is because I am really picky when it comes to dudes and when someone crosses my line or starts to bug me, I am just done and move on.
Is it cause I don’t stay single for that long, or at least, I go on a good amount of dates? Hey don’t hate cause I am a fucking special ass woman.
Do these things make me a tramp?
Who gives a fuck?
So I am a tramp in some people’s eyes, I bet some people see me as a bitch too, or a chicken fucker...I also know that others view me as the vision of “total awesomeness” or this is what I have been told, others view me as a friend, a ding dong, a prude, selfless, selfish, a yoda, an inspiration to live, to be themselves and embrace who they are...at least I’m well rounded bitches...
You don’t like some of the shit I do, don’t do it. We all learn from each others mistakes and lessons...and I learn from my mistakes and lessons...I have fucking learned a lot.
So call me whatever the fuck you want
I know my veracity as a woman, and my opinion of myself, is the only one that really matters.
Besides, I call enough people “Chicken Fuckers” that I am bound to get some name calling my way...
Can we do me a favor though, please? The next time anyone decides to call me a name, can we do a reference check so I don’t have to pull out the old dictionary in confusion...where in the world did proper English go?
Next thing you know people will go around calling people chicken fuckers and ding dongs...
Let’s all pray that day never happens...totally.
DANCE OF THE WEEK
SHOOTING FOR THE STARS...
So a big part of this dance is the stance, cause a bow and arrow tend to have some weight and you need to be able to control the direction of flight. I put my right foot at 1:00 and my left foot at 8:00. Make your left hand into the shape of a V so you can hold the bow and guide the arrow. With your right hand grab the stretchy part of the bow and the back part of the arrow and pull it back tight. Now aim the arrow up high, kinda squint your eyes...and let the arrow fly...and repeat...
Monday, September 26, 2011
Blog 45...Passing Chicken Fucker Status (CFS)
Blog 45...Passing Chicken Fucker Status (CFS)
Right after I left my husband, a few years ago...I lost control...I passed chicken fucker status one night (I was a real dumb ass that night) and my friends called me out on it. And while it really pissed me off (so much that I decided to leave Eugene) it is exactly what I needed. And years later I can look back and think how much I needed that slap upside the head, that wake up call...and how me leaving Eugene...helped me become the person I really am...a Princess...and if I haven’t told you all thank you, THANK YOU...times 11. I learned, I grew...and it is in part, due to you, just being honest.
And we all know I pride myself on being honest. And in life, friendships and relationships are full of ups and downs, it is important to always state how you feel, why you are mad, and move on...
I guess it sucks for anyone that I get mad at, cause unfortunately, I am going to air my grievances in my diary, which other people read...maybe you will all think twice before you piss me the fuck off...just saying.
And this last week, in one evening, I had two ex-boyfriends pass CFS, and it is not okay.
And we are supposed to be friends.
And if you all are really my friends, you will understand why I am upset and our friendship will grow from here...if not, at least I was honest with my feelings...
And if you all get upset at me for writing about this, I understand, and I am really sorry...next time you all might think before being a dumb ass...
Dumb Ass Story #1...
After finishing a lovely day with a wonderful lady of walking, talking, exploring and music with good food along the way, I should have called the day an accomplishment and gone home (dumb ass move on my part...Hey, if you call other people out, you got to be able to call yourself out)
But an ex-boyfriend of mine and some mutual friends were in town and wanted to dance and I always like to dance, and I missed my friends...so I was in.
And the dancing was great (when is my dancing not great)...but the after party at my house was the downfall.
First off, I have psoriasis, and while it is in remission, I would like to keep it that way, so a lot of partying I can’t do, and am kinda over it anyway. And you all can party all you want, that is fine, I don’t mind just watching and hanging with good friends...
But when you come over to my apartment that I work my ass off to have, is my sanctuary and my home, and you trash the place completely...you have passed chicken fucker status.
Now I can not pinpoint exactly when the CFS was crossed, maybe it was when you asked if you should buy crack (there are only two rules to my apartment...no crack and no tenderloin shoes on the bed...so the answer was a firm no, and I should have had them leave then) Maybe it was when they got a whole “master case” of whip its for just the two of them, maybe it was when they started to toss the empty whip its on my floor even though I have given them each a bucket.
It could have been when they did not even notice that I went out into my hall to deal with Dumb Ass #2 for a whole hour on the phone, or that when I came back I was a balling mess...when I was dealing with said phone call my picture of my dog Kesey got knocked over and my massage oil spilled over a pile of my JBG tapes...
Maybe it was when the ex-boyfriend passed out drooling on my chair and his friend made a pass at me, when I gave him "the look" he proceeded to go puke in my bathroom.
Now CFS had been passed at this point, and as Pukey McPukester barfed with the bathroom door open (ohhhh what beautiful, harmonious sounds) I shook the ex and told him that himself and homie had to vacate the apartment asap. He answered by inhaling a whip it and passing out again, just as his friend tried to sit on my bed.
He looked shocked when I told him his “puke-stained-ass” was not to come 2 feet of my fucking bed.
As the ex-boyfriend finally stirred and kicked over my brand new record player...an anger and frustration boiled up in me and made my eyes turn to fire...”Get the fuck out of my fucking house...NOW!!!”
The ex texted me to ask what had happened the next morning, I only told him that he kicked over my record player...he texted back, “I don’t blame you”...I am keeping my fucking mouth shut on that one...but...
***Darlin, you have been my friend, and thank you, thank you so much for being their every time I needed you, let me be your fucking friend...
Do something with your fucking life. Your are damm lucky to have the money that you are blessed to have and instead of throwing it away on frying your fucking brain why don’t you do something to help people, help your fucking friends, you could employ all of us, help us all reach our dreams, if you actually saw your potential, and didn’t think that you having money gave you a right to be fucking rude to people and talk to them like shit...and having money does not give you a right to act like a complete fool...
We all like to have a good time...but did you not learn anything from our friend that just died...can you not see that you are worth so much more...don’t you want to do something more with yourself ***
Dumb Ass Story #2...
I have always told the boys, “I know you ryder going to miss me when I’m gone”...and yet, they always forget that is how the song goes...
It is not my fault that you had over a year to commit to me, to treat me right, to tell me that you loved me every day, and you chose not to.
That is not my fault...and there are no amount of flowers, trips or sorrys that can wash that away.
But you know what can be washed away, the confusion I was feeling over my choice...when you pass CFS.
I still can’t believe your dumb ass called me drunk at 2:30am, while you are driving...and you made me plead with you for an hour to get off the fucking road.
Ladies and Gentlemen: I do not drive...for many reasons, but mostly, cause I am scared shitless that I am going to be a dumb ass and hurt someone else’s child.
If you do not have enough self-love for yourself to care if you die, care about the person just trying to get home who you might hurt or our friend driving across country...or the people that care about you, that would be so upset if you were gone from their lives.
How can I put faith in my future with a man when he does not think of the consequences to his actions?
Reckless abandonment just isn’t my thing.
Don’t ever fucking call me drunk and make me worry about you like that...that is some fucked up mother fucking shit right there...times 11.
***Darlin, I love you, always will, but you are not capable of loving me the way I need to be love...I owe you so much, you taught me how to love again when I had shut myself off, to be content...and I thank you...but loving me is a responsibility that you are far from ready for, and is something I can not teach, but is something that you have to learn...I really hope you learn from this...because your potential is breathtaking***
Dumb Ass Story #3...
That’s me folks...But I am trying to write the situation☺
I should have followed my gut all along, and I didn’t. I knew I didn’t want that kind of excess in my house, I should have never let it in...and I should know that I shouldn’t have to tell a man how I want to be treated, he should just treat me the way I want to be treated right off the bat.
I pass CFS when I let myself continue in cycles of finding myself in situations I don’t want be in.
I break free of CFS when I learn my lesson, address my potential and go from there.
And we all might pass CFS many times in our life, but it is the lessons learned from those times that mold us along the way.
I have always said, “I am a not yet a Queen, only a Princess, for I have many more lessons to learn.”
I am getting closer though, I must say...
DANCE OF THE WEEK
PICKING THE APPLE
Walk up to the tree, and in your left hand hold the imaginary bucket...with your right hand, reach up and grab the apple, try to twist, crap that thing is on tight, pull, pull...whooooo, finally got it, into the bucket it goes, and repeat, until your bucket starts to weigh you down on one side...you should really try an apple and lighten your load...Big bite time, oh man, the juice is going down your face and arms, wipe that shit of with your sleeve...those apples are so good you won’t even have to ask anyone,
“How you like them apples...”
Right after I left my husband, a few years ago...I lost control...I passed chicken fucker status one night (I was a real dumb ass that night) and my friends called me out on it. And while it really pissed me off (so much that I decided to leave Eugene) it is exactly what I needed. And years later I can look back and think how much I needed that slap upside the head, that wake up call...and how me leaving Eugene...helped me become the person I really am...a Princess...and if I haven’t told you all thank you, THANK YOU...times 11. I learned, I grew...and it is in part, due to you, just being honest.
And we all know I pride myself on being honest. And in life, friendships and relationships are full of ups and downs, it is important to always state how you feel, why you are mad, and move on...
I guess it sucks for anyone that I get mad at, cause unfortunately, I am going to air my grievances in my diary, which other people read...maybe you will all think twice before you piss me the fuck off...just saying.
And this last week, in one evening, I had two ex-boyfriends pass CFS, and it is not okay.
And we are supposed to be friends.
And if you all are really my friends, you will understand why I am upset and our friendship will grow from here...if not, at least I was honest with my feelings...
And if you all get upset at me for writing about this, I understand, and I am really sorry...next time you all might think before being a dumb ass...
Dumb Ass Story #1...
After finishing a lovely day with a wonderful lady of walking, talking, exploring and music with good food along the way, I should have called the day an accomplishment and gone home (dumb ass move on my part...Hey, if you call other people out, you got to be able to call yourself out)
But an ex-boyfriend of mine and some mutual friends were in town and wanted to dance and I always like to dance, and I missed my friends...so I was in.
And the dancing was great (when is my dancing not great)...but the after party at my house was the downfall.
First off, I have psoriasis, and while it is in remission, I would like to keep it that way, so a lot of partying I can’t do, and am kinda over it anyway. And you all can party all you want, that is fine, I don’t mind just watching and hanging with good friends...
But when you come over to my apartment that I work my ass off to have, is my sanctuary and my home, and you trash the place completely...you have passed chicken fucker status.
Now I can not pinpoint exactly when the CFS was crossed, maybe it was when you asked if you should buy crack (there are only two rules to my apartment...no crack and no tenderloin shoes on the bed...so the answer was a firm no, and I should have had them leave then) Maybe it was when they got a whole “master case” of whip its for just the two of them, maybe it was when they started to toss the empty whip its on my floor even though I have given them each a bucket.
It could have been when they did not even notice that I went out into my hall to deal with Dumb Ass #2 for a whole hour on the phone, or that when I came back I was a balling mess...when I was dealing with said phone call my picture of my dog Kesey got knocked over and my massage oil spilled over a pile of my JBG tapes...
Maybe it was when the ex-boyfriend passed out drooling on my chair and his friend made a pass at me, when I gave him "the look" he proceeded to go puke in my bathroom.
Now CFS had been passed at this point, and as Pukey McPukester barfed with the bathroom door open (ohhhh what beautiful, harmonious sounds) I shook the ex and told him that himself and homie had to vacate the apartment asap. He answered by inhaling a whip it and passing out again, just as his friend tried to sit on my bed.
He looked shocked when I told him his “puke-stained-ass” was not to come 2 feet of my fucking bed.
As the ex-boyfriend finally stirred and kicked over my brand new record player...an anger and frustration boiled up in me and made my eyes turn to fire...”Get the fuck out of my fucking house...NOW!!!”
The ex texted me to ask what had happened the next morning, I only told him that he kicked over my record player...he texted back, “I don’t blame you”...I am keeping my fucking mouth shut on that one...but...
***Darlin, you have been my friend, and thank you, thank you so much for being their every time I needed you, let me be your fucking friend...
Do something with your fucking life. Your are damm lucky to have the money that you are blessed to have and instead of throwing it away on frying your fucking brain why don’t you do something to help people, help your fucking friends, you could employ all of us, help us all reach our dreams, if you actually saw your potential, and didn’t think that you having money gave you a right to be fucking rude to people and talk to them like shit...and having money does not give you a right to act like a complete fool...
We all like to have a good time...but did you not learn anything from our friend that just died...can you not see that you are worth so much more...don’t you want to do something more with yourself ***
Dumb Ass Story #2...
I have always told the boys, “I know you ryder going to miss me when I’m gone”...and yet, they always forget that is how the song goes...
It is not my fault that you had over a year to commit to me, to treat me right, to tell me that you loved me every day, and you chose not to.
That is not my fault...and there are no amount of flowers, trips or sorrys that can wash that away.
But you know what can be washed away, the confusion I was feeling over my choice...when you pass CFS.
I still can’t believe your dumb ass called me drunk at 2:30am, while you are driving...and you made me plead with you for an hour to get off the fucking road.
Ladies and Gentlemen: I do not drive...for many reasons, but mostly, cause I am scared shitless that I am going to be a dumb ass and hurt someone else’s child.
If you do not have enough self-love for yourself to care if you die, care about the person just trying to get home who you might hurt or our friend driving across country...or the people that care about you, that would be so upset if you were gone from their lives.
How can I put faith in my future with a man when he does not think of the consequences to his actions?
Reckless abandonment just isn’t my thing.
Don’t ever fucking call me drunk and make me worry about you like that...that is some fucked up mother fucking shit right there...times 11.
***Darlin, I love you, always will, but you are not capable of loving me the way I need to be love...I owe you so much, you taught me how to love again when I had shut myself off, to be content...and I thank you...but loving me is a responsibility that you are far from ready for, and is something I can not teach, but is something that you have to learn...I really hope you learn from this...because your potential is breathtaking***
Dumb Ass Story #3...
That’s me folks...But I am trying to write the situation☺
I should have followed my gut all along, and I didn’t. I knew I didn’t want that kind of excess in my house, I should have never let it in...and I should know that I shouldn’t have to tell a man how I want to be treated, he should just treat me the way I want to be treated right off the bat.
I pass CFS when I let myself continue in cycles of finding myself in situations I don’t want be in.
I break free of CFS when I learn my lesson, address my potential and go from there.
And we all might pass CFS many times in our life, but it is the lessons learned from those times that mold us along the way.
I have always said, “I am a not yet a Queen, only a Princess, for I have many more lessons to learn.”
I am getting closer though, I must say...
DANCE OF THE WEEK
PICKING THE APPLE
Walk up to the tree, and in your left hand hold the imaginary bucket...with your right hand, reach up and grab the apple, try to twist, crap that thing is on tight, pull, pull...whooooo, finally got it, into the bucket it goes, and repeat, until your bucket starts to weigh you down on one side...you should really try an apple and lighten your load...Big bite time, oh man, the juice is going down your face and arms, wipe that shit of with your sleeve...those apples are so good you won’t even have to ask anyone,
“How you like them apples...”
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Blog 44..."I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love." (Music is my Church...Part Two)
Blog 44...”I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love.”(Music is my Church...Part Two)
(Blog 25 is Music is my Church...Part One)
Donny Hathaway sings...
”People who believe in music are the happiest I’ve ever seen”
Last year at Christmas time, I went with my dad to his office, he was showing me some stuff for my apartment I might want and I lifted up a blanket. Hidden underneath were approximately 250 vinyl records...they smelled musky and had dust almost a ½ inch thick, as I started to pull them out, my knees began to buckle...Otis Redding, Rolling Stones, George Duke, Joe Crocker, Herbie Hancock, Donny Hathaway, 1947 Jazz Festival...and so much more.
As I turned to my dad, not really being able to speak, he saw me looking at the records and told me he had been keeping them for over 15 years, he knew he shouldn’t throw them away, but didn’t know who would want them.
I shouted, “I WANT THEM”
My dad told me to stop yelling and that I was going to make him deaf...he asked where the hell I was going to put all these records in my small ass studio.
“I WILL MAKE ROOM FOR THEM, I WANT THEM”
With his hands over his ears, my dad shouted, “But you don’t even have a record player.”
I waved my hand to imply that I did not give a fuck and began to haul the vinyl out to the car.
And in my apartment they have sat...waiting for the right moment...Once in a while I would pull them out and caress them, pondering what they sounded like, yearning to evaporate notes from them, wishing I could hold them and make them sing...
And then this last weekend, I was exhausted and broke and confused...
Having worked 3 doubles and waiting on a check that finally arrived today (whooo hooo) and my heart feeling like it is being pulled in two directions (does one try to work out the problems of the past where love is true even though they seem to take so much effort or does one leap into the promises of the new that seems to give you all that you thought was missing but it is still a huge leap of faith...or does one just drop it all and forget about love for awhile)...I needed some clarity and I needed it desperately.
One of my customers at work came in with a record player and as I took their order (I had to take it twice cause I was paying no attention to them only the record player) I realize what I had to do.
With only a $100 to my name I walked home, and I passed one of those crazy “all you can eat electronic stores” on Market St.
I walked in and waited for someone to help me, I then told the sales dude that I needed a record player...he took me to the correct section.
There cheapest one was $169...
“But papi, I need a record player and I don’t have that kind of money, can you give me any kind of deal, I need, need this, music is my church and I am missing so many sermons...”
He responded with “$120”
I told him I could not pay more than $80 (I needed some money to eat) I would get a floor model, whatever, I did not care, I just wanted to be able to play my records...I finished with a “please papi, please.”
He looked me up and down, took a breath, and said “Okay mami, but I am making no money off of this, but I can tell...you are good inside, it shines through, $80, no tax, don’t tell anyone.” (crap...did I just break that deal, well you still all don’t know exactly where I got it from.)
As I hugged him goodbye and repeated “thank you” numerous times...He simply smiled a huge smile and told me to “enjoy”
I told him I would not let him down.
I walked home through the Tenderloin, record player in hand, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary (hey remember, anything can be used as a weapon in the Tenderloin and you have go to be prepared.) I felt a calmness come over my mind, I felt the breaths I was taking all the way down to my toes...
And even though I had to go to another job, I took some time to plug in the record player and grabbed a Joe Crocker album and rested on my bed and listed to the music and had it take me away, if even for a brief moment in time. And in that moment, my troubles of the heart seemed to disappear, and I felt energized and intoxicated at the same time (kinda like an espresso martini makes me feel, whoooo haaaaaaaa and kick)
I left for my other job and over the next few days any chance I got I put on records, and just closed my eyes...and simply melted away.
And all the confusion of my heart lead to some sort of writer’s block and my head seemed filled with too many ideas to be able to express eloquently how I was feeling, how I felt torn, baffled and confused.
So I did what I always do when I need to find my path, I put on music, the record I grabbed was Donny Hathaway...I was kinda zoned out for the first couple of songs (I do have some killer hash) And as I came to a new song had begun, and Donny’s voice encompassed the air I was inhaling and his music spread through my body...”I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love...I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love.”
And as he continued to sing... my writer’s block lifter and it became so very obvious what I was to write about.
It also became quite clear that my matters of the heart would work out the way they were going to, and that instead of stressing about them, I should simply let them unfold, let time take it’s course.
Because I have faith.
I know that no matter how this love story ends, I am going to be okay...Because not only do I believe in music & not only do I believe in love, but I believe in me...
And no matter what choice I make, it is going to be the right one because it is going to be the one that makes me happy...
Yes Music is my Church, and I believe that...
“Music is the universal language and love is the key...So take your brother by the hand and sing along with me...I believe in Music, I believe in Love.”
Sometimes you just need to go to church to be reminded of how strong your faith is.
I believe.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
The “I’M EXCITED DANCE”
This dance move is ohhhhhh so simple and works in so many situations...
Put your arms out at 90 degree angles, start to move them ever so slightly but rapidly up and down, now start to hop from one foot to the other, still moving arms franticly...who is excited...you are!!! And now everybody knows cause you have done the dance.
(Blog 25 is Music is my Church...Part One)
Donny Hathaway sings...
”People who believe in music are the happiest I’ve ever seen”
Last year at Christmas time, I went with my dad to his office, he was showing me some stuff for my apartment I might want and I lifted up a blanket. Hidden underneath were approximately 250 vinyl records...they smelled musky and had dust almost a ½ inch thick, as I started to pull them out, my knees began to buckle...Otis Redding, Rolling Stones, George Duke, Joe Crocker, Herbie Hancock, Donny Hathaway, 1947 Jazz Festival...and so much more.
As I turned to my dad, not really being able to speak, he saw me looking at the records and told me he had been keeping them for over 15 years, he knew he shouldn’t throw them away, but didn’t know who would want them.
I shouted, “I WANT THEM”
My dad told me to stop yelling and that I was going to make him deaf...he asked where the hell I was going to put all these records in my small ass studio.
“I WILL MAKE ROOM FOR THEM, I WANT THEM”
With his hands over his ears, my dad shouted, “But you don’t even have a record player.”
I waved my hand to imply that I did not give a fuck and began to haul the vinyl out to the car.
And in my apartment they have sat...waiting for the right moment...Once in a while I would pull them out and caress them, pondering what they sounded like, yearning to evaporate notes from them, wishing I could hold them and make them sing...
And then this last weekend, I was exhausted and broke and confused...
Having worked 3 doubles and waiting on a check that finally arrived today (whooo hooo) and my heart feeling like it is being pulled in two directions (does one try to work out the problems of the past where love is true even though they seem to take so much effort or does one leap into the promises of the new that seems to give you all that you thought was missing but it is still a huge leap of faith...or does one just drop it all and forget about love for awhile)...I needed some clarity and I needed it desperately.
One of my customers at work came in with a record player and as I took their order (I had to take it twice cause I was paying no attention to them only the record player) I realize what I had to do.
With only a $100 to my name I walked home, and I passed one of those crazy “all you can eat electronic stores” on Market St.
I walked in and waited for someone to help me, I then told the sales dude that I needed a record player...he took me to the correct section.
There cheapest one was $169...
“But papi, I need a record player and I don’t have that kind of money, can you give me any kind of deal, I need, need this, music is my church and I am missing so many sermons...”
He responded with “$120”
I told him I could not pay more than $80 (I needed some money to eat) I would get a floor model, whatever, I did not care, I just wanted to be able to play my records...I finished with a “please papi, please.”
He looked me up and down, took a breath, and said “Okay mami, but I am making no money off of this, but I can tell...you are good inside, it shines through, $80, no tax, don’t tell anyone.” (crap...did I just break that deal, well you still all don’t know exactly where I got it from.)
As I hugged him goodbye and repeated “thank you” numerous times...He simply smiled a huge smile and told me to “enjoy”
I told him I would not let him down.
I walked home through the Tenderloin, record player in hand, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary (hey remember, anything can be used as a weapon in the Tenderloin and you have go to be prepared.) I felt a calmness come over my mind, I felt the breaths I was taking all the way down to my toes...
And even though I had to go to another job, I took some time to plug in the record player and grabbed a Joe Crocker album and rested on my bed and listed to the music and had it take me away, if even for a brief moment in time. And in that moment, my troubles of the heart seemed to disappear, and I felt energized and intoxicated at the same time (kinda like an espresso martini makes me feel, whoooo haaaaaaaa and kick)
I left for my other job and over the next few days any chance I got I put on records, and just closed my eyes...and simply melted away.
And all the confusion of my heart lead to some sort of writer’s block and my head seemed filled with too many ideas to be able to express eloquently how I was feeling, how I felt torn, baffled and confused.
So I did what I always do when I need to find my path, I put on music, the record I grabbed was Donny Hathaway...I was kinda zoned out for the first couple of songs (I do have some killer hash) And as I came to a new song had begun, and Donny’s voice encompassed the air I was inhaling and his music spread through my body...”I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love...I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love.”
And as he continued to sing... my writer’s block lifter and it became so very obvious what I was to write about.
It also became quite clear that my matters of the heart would work out the way they were going to, and that instead of stressing about them, I should simply let them unfold, let time take it’s course.
Because I have faith.
I know that no matter how this love story ends, I am going to be okay...Because not only do I believe in music & not only do I believe in love, but I believe in me...
And no matter what choice I make, it is going to be the right one because it is going to be the one that makes me happy...
Yes Music is my Church, and I believe that...
“Music is the universal language and love is the key...So take your brother by the hand and sing along with me...I believe in Music, I believe in Love.”
Sometimes you just need to go to church to be reminded of how strong your faith is.
I believe.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
The “I’M EXCITED DANCE”
This dance move is ohhhhhh so simple and works in so many situations...
Put your arms out at 90 degree angles, start to move them ever so slightly but rapidly up and down, now start to hop from one foot to the other, still moving arms franticly...who is excited...you are!!! And now everybody knows cause you have done the dance.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Blog 43...Princess Dating 101 (Dating Diaries Prologue)
Blog 43...Princess Dating 101 (Dating Diaries Prologue)
As I find myself slowly stepping completely back into the dating world (I was never really out...I think a non-committed relationship just confuses the fuck out of me...and sometimes people can't love each other the way we need to be loved) I am quite tempted to yell “Dating Restriction” and hang out in my most awesomeness of a bubble...
But this time, I actually feel ready, cleansed and refreshed...now this might have something to do with the fact that I just got out of the shower...but who knows.
And its not like I am not going to go on dates (remember the quality of my ass here peeps) So I might as well embrace it...but maybe I can lay out some ground rules so I’m not writing about a homie calling me and telling me he is masturbating to me sitting on his face again. (Dating Diaries Part One and Two are Blogs 7 & 24)
Anyhoo...Let us break this shit down...
-Smelling good is important shit...showering should not be forgotten, nor should brushing teeth. I am not about to kiss a man at 10pm at night who has 10am coffee breath...gum, mints...all great things that man has invented for a reason.
-You all should ask me out, and not the other way around, you want me, you have to pursue me...I am a princess here people...totally.
-And don’t play that waiting to call or text shit with me, I WAIT FOR NO MAN, and by the time you do finally call me, I will have moved on...you want me to be interested in you, you must hold that interest. Remember, with me, slacking is not an option.
-I am a total ding dong, and will probably drop something, spill, knock something over or say something totally stupid...I embrace that shit, and you should to, whether I do it or you do it...
-Cell phones on a date, not okay, and if you do have to take it, say, “pardon me” and step outside (can you believe I even have to write this one)
-Please for the love of all that is holy, if we are out at a nice restaurant do not burp at the table or look at me and say you have to “go take a dump” I am eating here, or was.
-I do not want to go out with God. This one guy hit on me this weekend and I asked what he did and he said he “ran the world”...I responded by telling him that I was a princess, tee hee hee. He returned with, “Well I run computers, and computers run the world...soooo.”...I then told him I only fucked chickens and thanked him for my drink.
(I can’t compete with God.)
-Silence is okay. Sometimes when I am really enjoying being with someone I just close my eyes and think about how content I am...and while I enjoy good conversation, I truly enjoy a non-awkward silence.
-Don’t talk shit on my City. You don’t like it, you should have taken me to dinner in Napa, not my fucking fault...Remember some key notes, I was born and raised here, my family still lives in the same house I grew up in, and I chose to come back here to rebuild my life, you talk shit on the city, you talk shit on me, and I will have nothing to do with that action...
-Don’t invite me out to dinner than give me shit for ordering a nice glass of wine. If you didn’t want me to get the nice glass of wine you should of not taken me somewhere that has a 1998 Chateau Puy la Rose from Pauillac by the glass...some shit I can not say no to...
-And I do expect to be taken out to dinner...that is proper, and you should know I am all about being fucking proper. But dinner doesn’t have to be a fancy ass place (I am not by any means saying I do not like to go out to fancy places, I mean The Boulevard is my favorite restaurant in the world...times 11...bring an extra pair of panties when you go there) See, prior to leaving my ex-husband almost three years ago, I had never been taken out to dinner, (or courted) and anytime I get taken out to dinner now, I am fucking thankful as all hell, because it really means something to me. It is a reminder to me on how far I have come and how much I have grown...and it’s proper.
-I will not hump on the first date.
May I repeat that I am a base girl...First date, first base...I don’t even like to get all crazy until I am ready to hump, cause then I just get turned on and have to say no cause then dude gets all pushy and why even get all awkward like that...when we are ready to hump, we’ll get crazy...it just should be right.
-Therefore...there is not need to be lude and gross on the first date...no asking if I will gargle your balls (I left that date) no asking me about sexual positions and fantasies...I am trying to eat here...can someone please remember.
-Send Forget-me-nots...do you know the song? There is something to be said for giving or sending a lady flowers...or just being romantic...boys...it just gets you so much farther with the ladies...trust me.
___________________________________________________
[SUNNY SIDE BLOG ]
***My dad brings my mom fresh flowers every week so she can wake up every morning and see how much he loves her...this might be a reason I think I am a Princess, my dad treats my mom like the fucking queen that she is, and I have watched their love only grow. He freakin cuts the tree in front of the house in the shape of a heart so when she comes home she knows how much he loves her, for their 20th anniversary he had a plane fly around my mom’s work (the school I was attending) that had trailing behind it...”Daragh, Happy 20th Anniversary, I love You, Neal.” For their 35th, he wrote her a love poem, had it framed and put it on her dresser...so, can you guess...she knows how much he loves her everyday...
And my dad pretty much does what ever he wants, cause he lets my mom do what she wants but everyday they let each other know how much they love each other...whether it’s the love notes or the dinner my mom cooks for my dad each night.
...Yes mom and dad, you have fucked me and any man who tries to date me...
But then again, I will not settle for anything but the very best.***
-Sometimes a date leads to just a great friendship, and that is okay too. In fact that is more than okay, I am a great fucking friend...and that shit is way less complicated...totally.
And a date is about getting to know someone, to see if there is something more...if you are just trying to hump...don’t waste your money on dinner, be fucking honest...you will get a NO (95% of the time) but you will get my respect for being fucking honest...which puts you in the higher percentile...maybe not the top five though...but good luck, and props for being fucking honest.
Cause that is what I am all about.
Wish me luck as I continue on my adventures, I am sure Diaries, Tales & Chode Hunts will follow (Blog 31)
And all good things come to those who wait, thank god I am in this waiting room with me...cause I fucking crack me up...totally.
Class is dismissed.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
OPENING THE BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE...
Champagne is good shit, and an aperitif...so let’s open this bottle...start by undoing the foil, it’s good when you can unravel the whole thing. Now un-twist the twisty thingy that holds down the cork action...now it is time to pop the cork, usually you want to put a towel over it, but remember, you can be a ding dong, this is one of those times, and DUCK, wow, that cork went far as fuck...man that is why we use the towel, and incase it bubbles over (some lessons you need to be reminded of from time to time)...fuck it, it’s open...time to pour and enjoy...Cheers & Sparkles
As I find myself slowly stepping completely back into the dating world (I was never really out...I think a non-committed relationship just confuses the fuck out of me...and sometimes people can't love each other the way we need to be loved) I am quite tempted to yell “Dating Restriction” and hang out in my most awesomeness of a bubble...
But this time, I actually feel ready, cleansed and refreshed...now this might have something to do with the fact that I just got out of the shower...but who knows.
And its not like I am not going to go on dates (remember the quality of my ass here peeps) So I might as well embrace it...but maybe I can lay out some ground rules so I’m not writing about a homie calling me and telling me he is masturbating to me sitting on his face again. (Dating Diaries Part One and Two are Blogs 7 & 24)
Anyhoo...Let us break this shit down...
-Smelling good is important shit...showering should not be forgotten, nor should brushing teeth. I am not about to kiss a man at 10pm at night who has 10am coffee breath...gum, mints...all great things that man has invented for a reason.
-You all should ask me out, and not the other way around, you want me, you have to pursue me...I am a princess here people...totally.
-And don’t play that waiting to call or text shit with me, I WAIT FOR NO MAN, and by the time you do finally call me, I will have moved on...you want me to be interested in you, you must hold that interest. Remember, with me, slacking is not an option.
-I am a total ding dong, and will probably drop something, spill, knock something over or say something totally stupid...I embrace that shit, and you should to, whether I do it or you do it...
-Cell phones on a date, not okay, and if you do have to take it, say, “pardon me” and step outside (can you believe I even have to write this one)
-Please for the love of all that is holy, if we are out at a nice restaurant do not burp at the table or look at me and say you have to “go take a dump” I am eating here, or was.
-I do not want to go out with God. This one guy hit on me this weekend and I asked what he did and he said he “ran the world”...I responded by telling him that I was a princess, tee hee hee. He returned with, “Well I run computers, and computers run the world...soooo.”...I then told him I only fucked chickens and thanked him for my drink.
(I can’t compete with God.)
-Silence is okay. Sometimes when I am really enjoying being with someone I just close my eyes and think about how content I am...and while I enjoy good conversation, I truly enjoy a non-awkward silence.
-Don’t talk shit on my City. You don’t like it, you should have taken me to dinner in Napa, not my fucking fault...Remember some key notes, I was born and raised here, my family still lives in the same house I grew up in, and I chose to come back here to rebuild my life, you talk shit on the city, you talk shit on me, and I will have nothing to do with that action...
-Don’t invite me out to dinner than give me shit for ordering a nice glass of wine. If you didn’t want me to get the nice glass of wine you should of not taken me somewhere that has a 1998 Chateau Puy la Rose from Pauillac by the glass...some shit I can not say no to...
-And I do expect to be taken out to dinner...that is proper, and you should know I am all about being fucking proper. But dinner doesn’t have to be a fancy ass place (I am not by any means saying I do not like to go out to fancy places, I mean The Boulevard is my favorite restaurant in the world...times 11...bring an extra pair of panties when you go there) See, prior to leaving my ex-husband almost three years ago, I had never been taken out to dinner, (or courted) and anytime I get taken out to dinner now, I am fucking thankful as all hell, because it really means something to me. It is a reminder to me on how far I have come and how much I have grown...and it’s proper.
-I will not hump on the first date.
May I repeat that I am a base girl...First date, first base...I don’t even like to get all crazy until I am ready to hump, cause then I just get turned on and have to say no cause then dude gets all pushy and why even get all awkward like that...when we are ready to hump, we’ll get crazy...it just should be right.
-Therefore...there is not need to be lude and gross on the first date...no asking if I will gargle your balls (I left that date) no asking me about sexual positions and fantasies...I am trying to eat here...can someone please remember.
-Send Forget-me-nots...do you know the song? There is something to be said for giving or sending a lady flowers...or just being romantic...boys...it just gets you so much farther with the ladies...trust me.
___________________________________________________
[SUNNY SIDE BLOG ]
***My dad brings my mom fresh flowers every week so she can wake up every morning and see how much he loves her...this might be a reason I think I am a Princess, my dad treats my mom like the fucking queen that she is, and I have watched their love only grow. He freakin cuts the tree in front of the house in the shape of a heart so when she comes home she knows how much he loves her, for their 20th anniversary he had a plane fly around my mom’s work (the school I was attending) that had trailing behind it...”Daragh, Happy 20th Anniversary, I love You, Neal.” For their 35th, he wrote her a love poem, had it framed and put it on her dresser...so, can you guess...she knows how much he loves her everyday...
And my dad pretty much does what ever he wants, cause he lets my mom do what she wants but everyday they let each other know how much they love each other...whether it’s the love notes or the dinner my mom cooks for my dad each night.
...Yes mom and dad, you have fucked me and any man who tries to date me...
But then again, I will not settle for anything but the very best.***
-Sometimes a date leads to just a great friendship, and that is okay too. In fact that is more than okay, I am a great fucking friend...and that shit is way less complicated...totally.
And a date is about getting to know someone, to see if there is something more...if you are just trying to hump...don’t waste your money on dinner, be fucking honest...you will get a NO (95% of the time) but you will get my respect for being fucking honest...which puts you in the higher percentile...maybe not the top five though...but good luck, and props for being fucking honest.
Cause that is what I am all about.
Wish me luck as I continue on my adventures, I am sure Diaries, Tales & Chode Hunts will follow (Blog 31)
And all good things come to those who wait, thank god I am in this waiting room with me...cause I fucking crack me up...totally.
Class is dismissed.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
OPENING THE BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE...
Champagne is good shit, and an aperitif...so let’s open this bottle...start by undoing the foil, it’s good when you can unravel the whole thing. Now un-twist the twisty thingy that holds down the cork action...now it is time to pop the cork, usually you want to put a towel over it, but remember, you can be a ding dong, this is one of those times, and DUCK, wow, that cork went far as fuck...man that is why we use the towel, and incase it bubbles over (some lessons you need to be reminded of from time to time)...fuck it, it’s open...time to pour and enjoy...Cheers & Sparkles
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Blog 42...The Birth of a Princess...
Blog 42...The Birth of a Princess...
Sometimes when I go through a tuff day or a hard week, I think back to darker times...so I can appreciate how far I have come and to shed light on my troubles...sometimes thoughts of the past can make any current situation just seem simple.
And while I try to keep my writings funny and full of humor, please note, this is not one of those blogs.
Life is not always about unicorns, sparkles, and rainbows (shhhhh, don’t tell anybody)...there is loss and sorrow and pain, yet from those comes strength and the ability to see a dawn breaking from where fog lingers.
This is the story of my best friend.
A couple days after I attended Ken Kesey’s funeral (if I have not mentioned it before, this was one of the most life changing and profound days in my life...the lessons I learned.) my ex-husband and I had decided to get a puppy. We decided on a Japanese Mastiff properly known as a Tosu Inu. At eight weeks old the hips of this dog rested on my shoulder and if I held my arm out straight, his chest rested in my hand...oh yes, he was my big man.
I said we must name him Kesey...and then whispered in his ear, “You have big shoes to fill.”...he licked me on the face and nuzzled me, answering my statement, without words.
Kesey grew to be 230lbs of the most amazing dog that you have even seen. And he was my man.
People would comment about how obvious it was that I was this dog’s world...his eyes & ears would follow me around the room, he would be waiting after every shower I took (and remember, I shower a shit ton) to lick the water off my legs and feet...my own personal shower mat. He would spoon me when I went to bed or napped, on arm around me, he pulled me close and as he dreamed he nibbled my ear. We would dance...I would put music on, he would put his hands on my shoulders and rest his chin on top of my head and we would go around the kitchen.
Kesey’s love for me was unconditional.
For most of Kesey’s life I owned the restaurant, and worked without a day off. I would try to come home to cuddle, do work from the house, or take him to the restaurant (that was his favorite, because he was the most handsomest of handsomes, and oh the attention he would get)...but my time with him was so limited and sometimes I was so stressed it was just hard for me to deal with any one or thing.
Since his time as a puppy, Kesey had a problem with one leg, this bone-bump-thingy, but it never seemed to bother him and the vet said it was nothing.
One day I was walking Kesey and I noticed him limping on that leg...after a week of it not getting better, I took him to the vet. After some tests and x-rays I was told he had cancer, and about a month to live.
He was four and a half years old.
I spent the next two weeks sleeping with my big man on the kitchen floor, encouraging him to hop up so he could use the bathroom, cheering when he had accomplished his mission, and this time around, it was I that spooned him. And I simply held him, as much as I could...I told him how sorry I was for being so busy, how I wished I could take it all back, to just be with him...how his love was the most important thing in this world...it was so pure.
He awoke one morning and I helped him up and outside, as I cheered him back in he stopped in his tracks and looked me in the eyes, the gaze pierced my soul, and I knew.
I awoke my husband and told him we were going to take Kesey to the vet, we had to put him down. He said with earnest that we had two more weeks, I told him “this is not up for discussion, it is time.”
It took four of us to get big man on the stretcher, as we wheeled him in one of the vets whispered in my ear, “You are doing the right thing.”
And I held my best friend as he took his last breath, and as it exhaled out of him, clarity slapped me in the face.
I was alone.
I was in a marriage that had no eternal love. Neither of us loved ourselves, we had stopped enjoying life long ago due to the restaurant and we were both exhausted.
My dad sent me a card on the front was a quote from Rumi...”The true lover is the one who on your final day, opens a thousand doors.”
Inside the card, my dad had written, “Kesey will be missed. He was a great friend...maybe, also...In his dying he reminds us to embrace life and to do our best while we are here.”
As I read it (as I do each morning for it is on my mirror with a picture of my big man) the sting of clarity slapping me in the face finally numbed...and I realized what I had to do.
I went to my husband and told him I was unhappy, that the restaurant was killing our marriage. I asked if we could sell it and move away and start over, I could figure out what I wanted to do and he could still be a great chef, we just wouldn’t have all this stress.
He told me “No”...that he did not believe in me, that the restaurant was his dream, what he wanted and he was not leaving it.
I called my parents and said I needed to speak to them right away...I went down for a night, it is then I talked to my mom about leaving my husband, and she gave me the advice “To give it 150% and you will either save it or be pissed off enough to leave.”
For the next six months I truly gave it 150%...I convinced him to close the restaurants on Mondays so we could have a day off, the economy crashed, I encouraged us to change the menu to work with the economy and pushed to get the local newspaper to do an article on it, which we got the front page of the Friday Business Section. I got us a cabin on the coast for his birthday, he canceled at the last minute, we had date nights. We planned to see my family for Thanksgiving...the entire time down to see them he yelled at me, about how we always had to spend holidays with my family, the people who had helped us buy our house and our restaurant, his dream. I breathed and decided to just shut my mouth, and enjoy it, that this would be our last holiday. I made plans to go see my family for Christmas without him. On Christmas Eve, I told my mom I was leaving him when I returned. I flew home one Christmas night so I could spend it with him. He was late picking me up from the airport. I was on my elliptical on December 28th when he brought me a potted tulip and said “Merry Christmas”
I told him it was “To little, to late………I want a divorce.”
And I hit bottom many a time as I crawled away from my marriage, and I still do not see the top of this mountain, but man, is it a beautiful hill.
And if Kesey had never died, I would probably still be married, I don’t think I would have found the strength to leave.
He gave me the ultimate sacrifice to make me happy.
His last breath became my inner light.
And I miss my friend.
My friend who on his final day, opened the doorway to my self-love...
For my self-love is one of my key components to my being a princess.
My friend, you did not die in vain...thank you, for making me...me.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
BUTTERING THE BREAD
I am always antsy for bread at a restaurant, I feel like it is the first impression, and how are they going to impress...so get antsy, this usually means kinda shaking from side to side...ohhh, you have the view seat, here it comes, maybe a little clap is in order when it arrives...okay, now tear off your piece of bread with authority, and grab the butter knife. Is it the salted butter (that shit is the best)...now you spread the butter on the bread, butter is an awesome thing, don’t be scared of it...spread some more...bite...oh yeahhhhhh...sometimes, the simplest things...when done right...
makes the best dance.
Sometimes when I go through a tuff day or a hard week, I think back to darker times...so I can appreciate how far I have come and to shed light on my troubles...sometimes thoughts of the past can make any current situation just seem simple.
And while I try to keep my writings funny and full of humor, please note, this is not one of those blogs.
Life is not always about unicorns, sparkles, and rainbows (shhhhh, don’t tell anybody)...there is loss and sorrow and pain, yet from those comes strength and the ability to see a dawn breaking from where fog lingers.
This is the story of my best friend.
A couple days after I attended Ken Kesey’s funeral (if I have not mentioned it before, this was one of the most life changing and profound days in my life...the lessons I learned.) my ex-husband and I had decided to get a puppy. We decided on a Japanese Mastiff properly known as a Tosu Inu. At eight weeks old the hips of this dog rested on my shoulder and if I held my arm out straight, his chest rested in my hand...oh yes, he was my big man.
I said we must name him Kesey...and then whispered in his ear, “You have big shoes to fill.”...he licked me on the face and nuzzled me, answering my statement, without words.
Kesey grew to be 230lbs of the most amazing dog that you have even seen. And he was my man.
People would comment about how obvious it was that I was this dog’s world...his eyes & ears would follow me around the room, he would be waiting after every shower I took (and remember, I shower a shit ton) to lick the water off my legs and feet...my own personal shower mat. He would spoon me when I went to bed or napped, on arm around me, he pulled me close and as he dreamed he nibbled my ear. We would dance...I would put music on, he would put his hands on my shoulders and rest his chin on top of my head and we would go around the kitchen.
Kesey’s love for me was unconditional.
For most of Kesey’s life I owned the restaurant, and worked without a day off. I would try to come home to cuddle, do work from the house, or take him to the restaurant (that was his favorite, because he was the most handsomest of handsomes, and oh the attention he would get)...but my time with him was so limited and sometimes I was so stressed it was just hard for me to deal with any one or thing.
Since his time as a puppy, Kesey had a problem with one leg, this bone-bump-thingy, but it never seemed to bother him and the vet said it was nothing.
One day I was walking Kesey and I noticed him limping on that leg...after a week of it not getting better, I took him to the vet. After some tests and x-rays I was told he had cancer, and about a month to live.
He was four and a half years old.
I spent the next two weeks sleeping with my big man on the kitchen floor, encouraging him to hop up so he could use the bathroom, cheering when he had accomplished his mission, and this time around, it was I that spooned him. And I simply held him, as much as I could...I told him how sorry I was for being so busy, how I wished I could take it all back, to just be with him...how his love was the most important thing in this world...it was so pure.
He awoke one morning and I helped him up and outside, as I cheered him back in he stopped in his tracks and looked me in the eyes, the gaze pierced my soul, and I knew.
I awoke my husband and told him we were going to take Kesey to the vet, we had to put him down. He said with earnest that we had two more weeks, I told him “this is not up for discussion, it is time.”
It took four of us to get big man on the stretcher, as we wheeled him in one of the vets whispered in my ear, “You are doing the right thing.”
And I held my best friend as he took his last breath, and as it exhaled out of him, clarity slapped me in the face.
I was alone.
I was in a marriage that had no eternal love. Neither of us loved ourselves, we had stopped enjoying life long ago due to the restaurant and we were both exhausted.
My dad sent me a card on the front was a quote from Rumi...”The true lover is the one who on your final day, opens a thousand doors.”
Inside the card, my dad had written, “Kesey will be missed. He was a great friend...maybe, also...In his dying he reminds us to embrace life and to do our best while we are here.”
As I read it (as I do each morning for it is on my mirror with a picture of my big man) the sting of clarity slapping me in the face finally numbed...and I realized what I had to do.
I went to my husband and told him I was unhappy, that the restaurant was killing our marriage. I asked if we could sell it and move away and start over, I could figure out what I wanted to do and he could still be a great chef, we just wouldn’t have all this stress.
He told me “No”...that he did not believe in me, that the restaurant was his dream, what he wanted and he was not leaving it.
I called my parents and said I needed to speak to them right away...I went down for a night, it is then I talked to my mom about leaving my husband, and she gave me the advice “To give it 150% and you will either save it or be pissed off enough to leave.”
For the next six months I truly gave it 150%...I convinced him to close the restaurants on Mondays so we could have a day off, the economy crashed, I encouraged us to change the menu to work with the economy and pushed to get the local newspaper to do an article on it, which we got the front page of the Friday Business Section. I got us a cabin on the coast for his birthday, he canceled at the last minute, we had date nights. We planned to see my family for Thanksgiving...the entire time down to see them he yelled at me, about how we always had to spend holidays with my family, the people who had helped us buy our house and our restaurant, his dream. I breathed and decided to just shut my mouth, and enjoy it, that this would be our last holiday. I made plans to go see my family for Christmas without him. On Christmas Eve, I told my mom I was leaving him when I returned. I flew home one Christmas night so I could spend it with him. He was late picking me up from the airport. I was on my elliptical on December 28th when he brought me a potted tulip and said “Merry Christmas”
I told him it was “To little, to late………I want a divorce.”
And I hit bottom many a time as I crawled away from my marriage, and I still do not see the top of this mountain, but man, is it a beautiful hill.
And if Kesey had never died, I would probably still be married, I don’t think I would have found the strength to leave.
He gave me the ultimate sacrifice to make me happy.
His last breath became my inner light.
And I miss my friend.
My friend who on his final day, opened the doorway to my self-love...
For my self-love is one of my key components to my being a princess.
My friend, you did not die in vain...thank you, for making me...me.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
BUTTERING THE BREAD
I am always antsy for bread at a restaurant, I feel like it is the first impression, and how are they going to impress...so get antsy, this usually means kinda shaking from side to side...ohhh, you have the view seat, here it comes, maybe a little clap is in order when it arrives...okay, now tear off your piece of bread with authority, and grab the butter knife. Is it the salted butter (that shit is the best)...now you spread the butter on the bread, butter is an awesome thing, don’t be scared of it...spread some more...bite...oh yeahhhhhh...sometimes, the simplest things...when done right...
makes the best dance.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Blog 41...How to be a Rock Star without Playing an Instrument...
Blog 41...How to be a Rock Star without Playing an Instrument...
I have the privilege of knowing some Rock Stars, and consider some of them my friends, and they have the extreme privilege of knowing me, and being my friend and besides myself being a princess, I am clearly a Rock Star, and I don’t even play an instrument...damm, did I just drop the microphone.
(just a little side note...we are all Rock Stars, you just might be hiding you inner Jagger, but baby, it’s in there...now high kick, point and scream)
So, how did I reach this Rock Star Status?
Welllllllll...practice, practice, practice, sheer luck, internal fire, watching shit, a sense of humor and one hell of an ass. (hey if it worked for Kim Kardashian, why they hell can’t it work for me.)
So Lessons I have Learned along the way...
-It is Okay to Take...
Now first and foremost, if you are ever in a green room at the end of a show and there is left over booze, beer, mixers, fresh juice, some fruit, good chips, Popeye’s, whatever, you got hands, pockets, a plastic bag that you fill up with Sierra Nevada’s and it rips in the van on the way back to the hotel...you will get thirsty later, you might get hungry, there might be a party...that shit comes in handy, and leftovers are always awesomeness, especially when it is rum.
And, not only are you helping yourself out but others too, this is a key element in being a Rock Star...Cause whatever you score, you share.
Some fan gives you some pot, you smoke some, but can’t take it on the plane, or you got given too much, you are a Rock Star, you give it to your friends, or your road crew...those are some hard working mother fuckers, or to another band to help them out, or the guy that gave you the good whiskey, the fan that said you changed his life or a cute-broke-red-headed princess that could always use more pot...totally.
Always say thank you, and make sure you pass on your fortunes.
-Keep your Private Side, Private.
No one wants to know what happens on the bus...unless it involves drugs, sex and rock and roll. Rock Stars aren’t rock stars cause they take a shit, contemplate their navel and cut their toenails. No No No...I don’t even go out if I am not in a good mood, cause if I am not 100% Sunny, I don’t want to put a lesser version of me out there.
And we all have bad days, and bad shows, but focusing on that side of it will not bring you the positive attention that a true Rock Star deserves.
-Say “Fuck It” and keep on Rocking you out.
Fergie pissed herself on stage and didn’t give a flying fuck, she kept on singing, than got booked for the Super Bowl where she sang that song from the “Dirty Dancing” soundtrack. Now as completely gross as I found the entire previous sentence, you got to give credit where credit is due. Cause not giving a shit that you pissed yourself in front of a butt load of people and just shrugging it off and continuing to rock yourself out takes some MASSIVE ROCK STAR BALLS right there.
I said it along time ago in Blog 2...”but when you learn not to give a flying fuck what other people think about you, you begin to love and accept yourself in ways that you never thought imaginable”
-Embrace you
I think this is what separates real Rock Stars from the wanna be.
A True Rock Star is all them all the time, they are okay with being in the box when they want to be and outside the box when they feel like it. It is all in what they are feeling. What makes them happy.
I am fucking awesomeness in a person, and not only that, I try my fucking hardest to be a good fucking person. You don’t like me, whatever, I respect your opinion, as you should respect mine...whatever makes you fucking happy, and whatever makes me happy...this is one of the key elements to Rock Star Status...being you, and letting others be who they want to be.
We all have our own lessons to learn in this life
-We Inspire Each Other
Even a Rock Star is inspired, WE ALL INSPIRE EACH OTHER. What Rock Star wouldn’t flip if they got to meet Stevie Wonder, the writer of their favorite song or the doctor that saved their momma’s life...
What you might consider a Rock Star, I don’t...just cause I pay to go see someone play music, does not make them a rock star, it makes them a musician. And musicians pay people to entertain them too, or to do shit for them...and I would bet my left breast they know people that don’t play and instrument that they consider Rock Stars.
An example of this in a good and bad way is the “Girls Gone Wild” dude.
Homie does not play an instrument but made a shit ton of money and got to hang out with cute, naked chicks and watch them make out...oh, and he owns and island, I’m giving him Rock Star Status, how he figured out that one, God only knows.
Now of course he had to be a dumb ass about shit and not do it proper and now he is in jail...which is how he dropped in the Rock Star Standing...(but when he gets out he will still have the island)
Which leads me to my last lesson, and one I have said many times...
- Try to Do it Right...and Learn along the Way
You show me a musician/band that has a following that follows them around the world, and I’ll show you someone who does that shit right (or is trying to) they put their hearts and souls into it.
And as you build your following you learn lessons along the way, and you learn from other's mistakes (don’t film under-aged girls doing naughty things to each other) And it is in that acceptance that we are all not perfect but we try, and in trying, sometimes we produce sound, laughter, things, beauty that move a people...and that my friend, makes you a FUCKING ROCK STAR...seeing that possiblity not only in yourself, but in others.
Who are you going to Move today, tomorrow?
Who are you going to Inspire?
How are you going to Encourage yourself to Shine?
Cause being a Rock Star, is bringing out the Rock Star in all of us, starting with you.
Now...Shine on...times 11.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
LEG GUITAR (this dance was first done by a row of three hot ladies in matching long dresses at a Widespread Panic Show in Eugene, Oregon, many years ago)
Now this dance is an act of balance, and if you got some core muscle kicking, you should be in okay. Another important pre-game part to this dance is stretching out your hamstring, cause if you throw your leg up, well, let’s just say it is good to stretch. Now choke up on your ankle with your hand, make sure you have a good grip, bending your upper torso down a little to help you keep balance, use your free hand to start rocking that leg guitar out...see I knew you had that Rock Star in you.
I have the privilege of knowing some Rock Stars, and consider some of them my friends, and they have the extreme privilege of knowing me, and being my friend and besides myself being a princess, I am clearly a Rock Star, and I don’t even play an instrument...damm, did I just drop the microphone.
(just a little side note...we are all Rock Stars, you just might be hiding you inner Jagger, but baby, it’s in there...now high kick, point and scream)
So, how did I reach this Rock Star Status?
Welllllllll...practice, practice, practice, sheer luck, internal fire, watching shit, a sense of humor and one hell of an ass. (hey if it worked for Kim Kardashian, why they hell can’t it work for me.)
So Lessons I have Learned along the way...
-It is Okay to Take...
Now first and foremost, if you are ever in a green room at the end of a show and there is left over booze, beer, mixers, fresh juice, some fruit, good chips, Popeye’s, whatever, you got hands, pockets, a plastic bag that you fill up with Sierra Nevada’s and it rips in the van on the way back to the hotel...you will get thirsty later, you might get hungry, there might be a party...that shit comes in handy, and leftovers are always awesomeness, especially when it is rum.
And, not only are you helping yourself out but others too, this is a key element in being a Rock Star...Cause whatever you score, you share.
Some fan gives you some pot, you smoke some, but can’t take it on the plane, or you got given too much, you are a Rock Star, you give it to your friends, or your road crew...those are some hard working mother fuckers, or to another band to help them out, or the guy that gave you the good whiskey, the fan that said you changed his life or a cute-broke-red-headed princess that could always use more pot...totally.
Always say thank you, and make sure you pass on your fortunes.
-Keep your Private Side, Private.
No one wants to know what happens on the bus...unless it involves drugs, sex and rock and roll. Rock Stars aren’t rock stars cause they take a shit, contemplate their navel and cut their toenails. No No No...I don’t even go out if I am not in a good mood, cause if I am not 100% Sunny, I don’t want to put a lesser version of me out there.
And we all have bad days, and bad shows, but focusing on that side of it will not bring you the positive attention that a true Rock Star deserves.
-Say “Fuck It” and keep on Rocking you out.
Fergie pissed herself on stage and didn’t give a flying fuck, she kept on singing, than got booked for the Super Bowl where she sang that song from the “Dirty Dancing” soundtrack. Now as completely gross as I found the entire previous sentence, you got to give credit where credit is due. Cause not giving a shit that you pissed yourself in front of a butt load of people and just shrugging it off and continuing to rock yourself out takes some MASSIVE ROCK STAR BALLS right there.
I said it along time ago in Blog 2...”but when you learn not to give a flying fuck what other people think about you, you begin to love and accept yourself in ways that you never thought imaginable”
-Embrace you
I think this is what separates real Rock Stars from the wanna be.
A True Rock Star is all them all the time, they are okay with being in the box when they want to be and outside the box when they feel like it. It is all in what they are feeling. What makes them happy.
I am fucking awesomeness in a person, and not only that, I try my fucking hardest to be a good fucking person. You don’t like me, whatever, I respect your opinion, as you should respect mine...whatever makes you fucking happy, and whatever makes me happy...this is one of the key elements to Rock Star Status...being you, and letting others be who they want to be.
We all have our own lessons to learn in this life
-We Inspire Each Other
Even a Rock Star is inspired, WE ALL INSPIRE EACH OTHER. What Rock Star wouldn’t flip if they got to meet Stevie Wonder, the writer of their favorite song or the doctor that saved their momma’s life...
What you might consider a Rock Star, I don’t...just cause I pay to go see someone play music, does not make them a rock star, it makes them a musician. And musicians pay people to entertain them too, or to do shit for them...and I would bet my left breast they know people that don’t play and instrument that they consider Rock Stars.
An example of this in a good and bad way is the “Girls Gone Wild” dude.
Homie does not play an instrument but made a shit ton of money and got to hang out with cute, naked chicks and watch them make out...oh, and he owns and island, I’m giving him Rock Star Status, how he figured out that one, God only knows.
Now of course he had to be a dumb ass about shit and not do it proper and now he is in jail...which is how he dropped in the Rock Star Standing...(but when he gets out he will still have the island)
Which leads me to my last lesson, and one I have said many times...
- Try to Do it Right...and Learn along the Way
You show me a musician/band that has a following that follows them around the world, and I’ll show you someone who does that shit right (or is trying to) they put their hearts and souls into it.
And as you build your following you learn lessons along the way, and you learn from other's mistakes (don’t film under-aged girls doing naughty things to each other) And it is in that acceptance that we are all not perfect but we try, and in trying, sometimes we produce sound, laughter, things, beauty that move a people...and that my friend, makes you a FUCKING ROCK STAR...seeing that possiblity not only in yourself, but in others.
Who are you going to Move today, tomorrow?
Who are you going to Inspire?
How are you going to Encourage yourself to Shine?
Cause being a Rock Star, is bringing out the Rock Star in all of us, starting with you.
Now...Shine on...times 11.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
LEG GUITAR (this dance was first done by a row of three hot ladies in matching long dresses at a Widespread Panic Show in Eugene, Oregon, many years ago)
Now this dance is an act of balance, and if you got some core muscle kicking, you should be in okay. Another important pre-game part to this dance is stretching out your hamstring, cause if you throw your leg up, well, let’s just say it is good to stretch. Now choke up on your ankle with your hand, make sure you have a good grip, bending your upper torso down a little to help you keep balance, use your free hand to start rocking that leg guitar out...see I knew you had that Rock Star in you.
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