Intentions Make All the Difference

I don't believe in luck.  I know I've said that before. I think luck belongs to those who can't believe they participate in statistics.  I don't proclaim I understand statistical equations, but I know the formulas are out there and somewhere, all the time, I get plugged into those equations.

That said, and digging deeper, I do believe in things outside that mindset because neither luck nor statistics explain everything I experience in life. I've been on a quest of sorts.  Looking around, seeing the world for what it is, and how best to interpret the loads of information heaped upon my questioning inquisitive mind.  It's difficult to find truth these days.  For a time, not having answers weighed heavily.  I didn't even know what I was looking for, so I stopped wondering about that part.

I'm glad I let the concrete go, which means, I just kept educating myself. After much inner turmoil,  I reached out to someone.  I didn't have lofty expectations of anything (at least I told myself).  So when I received a response, I froze up.  It was so difficult to take in, someone was actually nice.  Nice for no reason or agenda. [This is different from the post: I Called Romania because I reached out for me, not a cell phone]  I'm not going to go into detail, it's not the point.  I asked a complete stranger for help of sorts, and this person answered back, comforted me by listening, but didn't try to solve any dilemma, give biased advice, nor attempt to convince me of any opinion they held.  I had a conversation with a person, who by just being nice, uplifted me.  I thanked this person profusely, and I think I probably made her day better with the thank you.  Being nice is so easy, and yet truly nice people are an enigma unto themselves. I wanted to mention this experience because it was a ripple in the pond that made a difference for me.  I am grateful for that person I reached out to, and uplifted in how kind and empathetically they reacted: directly, right then, because they wanted to. Isn't that beautiful to think upon?

It's the little things truly, that deep down, we all yearn for.  Someone to see us, someone to be kind; more important, to be honest because they want to be.  People treat others with honesty and kindness help us find the goodness in ourselves; and can help us see the subtlety of intention. Intention influences so much of our lives and the impact can be profound. I looked up the word intention at Merriam-Webster, and I love the definition.

I use many words and leave much out, but those details are not the reason I share my life blogging lately.  I used to get caught up on those snags of detail and my intentions were lost in erroneous detail.  I'm writing with the intent of inspiring others to think of their own experiences and how intent affects them.

Think about intention when you are online or chatting.  Ask yourself who you are and then compare that to what you intend to do or say.  Are they the same?  Do you think you are a good person?  Do you intend to be a good person?  It's a deep subject because your intentions say much about who you truly are, and they make a difference every day.  Good or bad.

I keep discovering wonderful people.  Statistics and luck be damned, I like the intention in looking for the honest truth that kind people make the biggest difference, one person at a time.

  

Mushrooms Have it Better

Mushrooms have it better I believe.  They used to have this bad reputation, being a fungus.  Nobody used to like them, not the people I grew up with anyway.  I couldn't order pizza with mushrooms because back in the day, people just didn't like them.  Mushrooms are my daughter's favorite vegetable. Ironic isn't it?  She will eat them in any form, raw, fried, baked or grilled.  Smart daughter.  I've had friends say mushrooms have no nutritional value. Now mushrooms are trendy and you find them in foods everywhere.  From lotions, to soup they've grown in popularity.  Now everyone's a gourmet.

What's my point, humm?  I guess maybe I wanna make a comeback like that.  Like mushrooms.  Ever considered the thought?  Only thrive in the worst conditions and get nutrients from detritus?

What do you know about mushrooms?  Most top answers would be: Some are dangerous.  Some are good to eat.  Others take you on a trip that could make you see things from a different perspective.  That about sums up public thoughts on mushrooms.

Mushrooms fascinate me because they only grow under certain conditions.  They only thrive when the environment becomes optimal for them to grow.  Until then, they just stay in spore form, waiting.

Then they just pop out of the ground, in all shapes and sizes. They grow everywhere mysterious ... practically overnight.

I found a great article on mushrooms, which puts them in a great light. How they can save the world.  Pretty deep shit, no pun intended.

How Mushrooms Could Save the World

So why do I think they have it better?  Mushrooms are survivors.  They are unique and beautiful, and even if sometimes deadly, well they get that respect.

So I believe I'm going to change my perspective on that old saying about them. Maybe its not so bad comparing my knowledge of things on that level.  I know I've said how I hated being a mushroom; being in the dark and fed bullshit.

You know, it takes the right conditions for mushrooms to thrive.  No matter what kind of mushroom it/we/I/us are, we thrive.  I like that. 

All the pictures of mushrooms on this page were pictures I took in my yard in one day.  Pretty amazing the variety, huh?  They were so pretty, I had to photograph them.  I don't know the names, so nope, they weren't eaten or picked.  I ran across them in my many photos and they inspired me to write, as I am wrestling with inner thoughts late at night.

So in between, I am attempting to see the beauty in fungus; and applying that notion to family.  They can be dangerous, but beautiful, ugly but edible, even seem to have no intrinsic value, and yet they do.

I suppose to think one is a mushroom is not a bad thought.

Al: Movie

I  just finished  watching  Avengers : Age of Ultron. I guess  you  just can't  unlearn  things. The  movie  gave me chill bumps.  A I deciding the fate  of  the  world. I got the chills.

Relevant  to this day and  age.

I Called Romania

The title definitely reels a person in, huh?  I called Romania.  Actually I called my cell phone provider and BAM, I found personality on the other end of the phone.  I had an amazing conversation that encompassed everything from family, society, beliefs and of course, cell phones.

This picture was clipped from Google Maps.

This person really did make me realize how crucial one conversation can be, no matter how the chance arises.  Crucial?  I know it sounds weird, but I needed something that made the world shiny in terms of good people. This person exceptionally was exactly that: a good person.  I have a happy heart with a better outlook than I did yesterday.  As incredulous as it seems, I am a believer in everyday happiness being a choice, but people Do and Can enhance the experience.

For a little while, the concept of global networking came together and didn't seem so damnable or nefarious in purpose.  Experiencing the bright and shiny and knowing it wasn't a veneer gives me hope.  I'm not some strange bug.  I'm not the normal, but not the strange either.  That felt very nice and comfortable.  It felt Happy.

It doesn't take much to turn the mundane into profound.  I hope I hear from Romania again, but if I don't, I'm still grateful for the soul food.

Readers, if you're wondering about the small points, I chose to leave out which cell phone carrier, whether the person was male/female and conversation snippets.  The point isn't about those things.

Googling Romania at 3:00 am with a big smile is the point.  

Static Cling of Nosiness

I have not written deep relevant thoughts and I need to just admit I know why for my own reasons.  Analytics and Twitter reveal some static cling and this bothers me to an extent.

OK, that was a huge lie, it offends every little particle of my being, and too many immature ideas have been flying around inside my head.  It is so hard to not break down and just start letting my inner asshole take over to compensate for a silence I have too long held.

This is the part where I am asking myself to breathe in and out and just be calm.  Oh Fuck that.  There is something so wrong with the world, yes, indeed so wrong with the world that when it affects the spin of mine, I get mad.  That's the deal, I literally have paced the walls of my inner self and I see things that I can not change.  Then I see the glaring things that bother me because I can do something. What does all this mean? One more item checked off the definition of Grown Up.  I make one huge self discovery that I wish I could take back.  Part of being mature and grown up is knowing this:  Hey, I get hurt a bunch. Ouch. That's scary.  Maybe I shouldn't be so.. me. Ouch, That's scary.  I like me.  Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

More Internal Monologue:
This is my blog.  I write here.  I don't have to worry about people's feelings here.  Shit I totally have.  I have a bunch of noteworthy life events to write about and I didn't type ANYTHING.  I was afraid of WRITING, Shit! Letting that soak in really Blows!  I need to slap myself or at least check my own pulse.  Who cares about the people that see this or find it.  Is this for them? NO.  That said, those who read my blog and find me interesting, thanks.  For those keeping tabs, here's my acknowledgement.  Whether good or bad, a 'hello' or 'fuck you' would have been food for thought or expansion.  All my own thoughts stay mostly under my cap, but its a slippery slope.  I guess I could change things, but I don't want to, other than to point out it's kind of tacky.  On the flip side of this seeming rant, I would be happy to say hello, long time, no see... I also would give me a lot of joy, because lighting candles that get blown out is exhausting.

I know that the above seems rather touchy and cryptic.  It's my life.  I can say it however... but I don't always feel the same at any given time.  The only thing that gets under my skin is the big NOTHING.

Say something, say hello and figure out what it is you want to know or ask.  Get to your point.  Let me get to my pointiness and round out my edges.  Don't get defensive.

Don't get defensive, hum, a couple of years ago, probably 100% true about me.  These days, I'm thinking.. territorial with a bit of defensiveness .. old mechanisms are difficult to put aside.

Then again, I'm the same and different.  Are you?

(The teal print is me being lazy about punctuation and inner monologuing)

Hold Up: Time Out

Has anyone else noticed a few things that call for an official time out? I'm talking about the kind of time out with whistles, hand signals and where people should actually freeze because a distraction like breathing could end the world? Yeah, did you at least slow down if you were walking?

Nope I didn't either.  Mostly because I don't watch sports, and couldn't reproduce all the hoopla involved with a time-out.  I don't know what a first down actually involves other than football.  I know too many people are wincing because I openly admit this lack of knowledge .. or information I refuse to remember.

Where was I going with this?

Time-Out.  I thought the idea was to have a lifetime to contemplate the meaning of it all.  Lifetime meaning:  I live a long time and then die.  I am supposed to have menopause first.  Hold up people.  I know the truth hurts, but my head?  Chop Chop!?

I didn't even know this ride was here.  Are we there yet?

Hello, I'd like to ask for a moment to ask myself:  What do I believe?

The value of giving 20

I have had a long weekend.  I thought I saved something.  I thought I was doing a good job.  I don't know anymore. I was driving around ruminating over depression and loneliness...

 

What I do know is how cold it was this weekend. I had to wait till later to drive that day.  I was running an errand and dwelling on the previous night when I saw the sign.

 

Retired Veteran.  Will work and do anything. God Bless.

 

I took off my sunglasses and smiled at him.  The light turned green, but I put my car in park.  I waved him over.  There were lanes of traffic, but with a smile and tip of his hat he braved crossing in front of a guy already racing to make the light.  I rolled the window down and fumbled for my wallet, knowing I had a couple of bucks.

 

I had two dollar bills and one twenty, I thought I was broke...  In a split second, I pulled out that twenty and handed it out the window.

 

We never had a chance to smile at each other again because the world around us was impatient at me for holding up traffic and being in the middle lane, and of course, damning the man for not having a job and being so... poor. 

 

I hope he realized how happy his sign made me.  That was a good investment.  I smiled all day, God Bless I had twenty dollars.

 

It made the rest of life seem a bit stupid.

 

Some people just use me.  On purpose.  This guy simply had hope someone would allow him to ask.

What is the Message Sent Twice? One Eye.

I haven't been anywhere in two months, but every place.  I feel brittle.  Then the no-nonsensical me remembers what kind of world I truly live in.  So I crack every bone, sit and hone my smile, hide that voice. Don't be so inconvenient!  Seriously..

Yes we see.

Do we care?

Of Course!

that is,

(brilliantly)

Of Couture?

You?

'Umm Honey.  That foot sez ta me.... Paleeeze....Tattoo them for yo mid' life crisis!'

Can we get back to two eyes?

Not one.

A world of cyclops.

Looking at My Own Mice Type

I have a hectic schedule and an intense job.  With all sincerity, my job takes up most of the time I spend on the Internet, and the only reason I keep up with Facebook is because I use it as a 'family' tool.  This blog is my luxury, and I enjoy it.  I wish I could dedicate more time towards writing, but right now, my talents are spread quite thin at the moment.

I have a career, not a job.  I strive for clarity in this statement. The word job feels weasel-like on my tongue and cheapens my importance to the whole picture.  I will not tolerate a negative debasement of my passionate dedication by those stuck within the confines of their own system of what makes a person worth something.  I have a BA, a ton of experience and training but I STILL have to keep up to cover everything, because the demands put upon me challenge daily.  There is no guide out there for businesses and customer service, maintaining a cost conscious diligence, keeping up with rebates and warranties, calling and updating home services on top of cleanliness.

I am a housewife.  And it is a career.  I am not about to get on a soapbox and complain about what I should be paid.  That is a moot point for me.  My husband and I run this home together, manage a small business, keep up our properties, are parents to a beautiful child and we hold it down together.  To me, my role in my household contains an overwhelming amount of responsibility, productivity and effort that my husband reflects.  Its the rest of the world I want to shake my fists at.  I have it. Yes.  My own little business.   A career.  A big part of a complex organization.  If there was ever a theoretical mission statement or about us thing... it would include all the below items.

AND I savored writing this.

Twotablesnotime

Owner/CEO

The American Dream

a Division of the Hall Corporation

Stokesdale, NC 27357

HOME OFFICE

Customer Service:  Contact twotables for all household related concerns

Sales:  No one offers better pricing on hand chosen housewares

Technical Support:  Contact twotables [Emergency contact information]

Operations:  contact twotables for department allocation within HOME OFFICE

Security Clearance:  must be approved by BOTH owners of The American Dream

Warranty/Replacement:  The American Dream by the Hall Corporation offers an exclusive warranty for as long as you retain contact with our services.

Independents:  The American Dream offers limited programs and associations and maintain the right to deny or change agreements without notice.   Failure to maintain an account with The American Dream and misappropriate use of our Brands or Logo is punishable in accordance with any way we deem fit.  Violation of Company policy will not be tolerated.  Proper phone protocol is to be observed at all times.  The American Dream does not affiliate with John Hall Guttering employees, however HOME OFFICE is open to accept paperwork and Issues as directed by John Hall.  In the event of a Natural Disaster or Act of John, The American Dream has the right to dictate to any and all affiliates.   If The American Dream is out of the office, you must WAIT.  Approval from *Latter Halls is UNACCEPTABLE.  This includes Security Clearance to HOME OFFICE.

The American Dream retains the right to deny services to anyone.  Any attempts by outside parties to solicit CEO/Owners twotables or John Hall shall be handled by *ANY means necessary.  *ANY means may include/not limited to:  intense scrutiny, background check, formal complaints, and if necessary; use of force.  We are a privately owned and operated corporation and any means to gain unwanted access shall be considered a serious threat to operations**.

**in the event of Latter Halls or Nareaus contract involvement, The American Dream must approve in advance.  Infractions or complaints by an Independent about Latter Halls or Nareaus are to be handled by  The American Dream.  Latter Halls and Nareaus have warranties and insurance through The American Dream.   Any outside consultation by Independents to these parties without authorization is embezzlement/misuse of company resources.  Anything you say and do to them will be used against you.

SHOP

Transportation:  Contact John Hall

Deliveries with more than 3 axles must use Lower Entrance

Questions about an Invoice?  Contact John and leave a message.

Operations:  Contact John with job questions and concerns.

Interested in delivering material?  John is the person to give a quote to.  And don't waste his time.

JHG, Inc.does not accept credit cards or financing; so if you have received an invoice, pay it on time.

Interested in becoming an Associate?  The American Dream currently has no positions offered.

However The Hall Corporation encourages Applicants to inquire directly to John Hall Guttering.  If hired by our company, be on time and be *dependable.

Employees report to John Hall Guttering, however HOME OFFICE has your information on file.  You must be Key holder to enter Home Office.

*Dependable is all inclusive - call with questions, do it right the first time,  be safe, and manage your own money and personal life.  Everyone has unexpected emergencies, and we understand, but we also have a business to run and lives of our own.

Spirituality in Clovers

Being lucky is not how I define myself.  I do not possess the mathematical prowess nor do I consult the stars to aid in being lucky.  I do have one talent that seems to astound a lot of people.  I find four leaf clovers.  I have always been able to.  What do you think I do with them?  I find a piece of hard paper and date it, then I place my clover in the center and put tape over it.  Then, I give them away.  I've been doing this for a long time.  I don't know quite when my belief system set in, but I'll share it.  Friends have been astonished when I've stood in their yards and plucked a prize from between our toes.  My best friend tearfully told me she had never found one before ... and still carries the one I gave her around.  I have given them as birthday gifts when I had no money.

A special Day.

Having a child and being a parent has made those clover searches more a daily routine for me.  I'll be outside looking down attempting to not be upset over drama before school.  When faced with the unanswerable, I consult the clovers.  Clovers keep me sane, they make me smile ruefully in the face of ALL IS LOST.  I am certain my clovers are there for me to center myself upon.  These bright patches of green are my connection with the unknown.  Karma, prayer, meditation... all are located in my yard.  God is but a patch away. Finding a YES within my given time to look makes me smile.  Going away empty handed means NO, but hey, I find more YES than NO.  Time feels well spent in my clovers.  I have my favorite patch to sit and survey my universe.  Four leaf clovers give me peace when I am anxious.  They help me not be angry and help me find time to just be.  To ask God a clover question and then keep the clover would upset the balance of my world, at least in my mind.

In sitting down to write this, I looked up four leaf clovers and found the following:

Druids believed carrying a 4LC warded off bad luck and offered magical protection.

Supposedly Eve carried away a 4LC from Eden, so to carry one is like always having a bit of that paradise.

Regular clovers stand for the holy trinity, a 4LC stands for the grace of God.

In the middle ages, children believed that having a 4LC made it possible for them to see fairies.

The odds of finding a 4LC is 10,000 to one, but that was a generous number I think.  Further reading included age and gender, which should be irrelevant in the whole luck system (personal belief).

In reading the above 'facts' and nostalgia... I conclude this:

Every clover I give away should help the recipient because they should be able to see fairies, have a symbol of God's grace, feel a little of Eden's paradise, ward off bad luck and be the one in ten thousand I choose to share a smile with.

Isn't that wonderful?

I found over twenty four leaf clovers in one day; the picture below is some of them.  I still think I'm me, but that day was rather special.  I shared this wisdom of the clovers with my daughter.  She found four.

All found in one Day.

My neighbors may wonder what it is I'm doing out there in my yard.  Maybe I lost something.  Maybe I'm crazy.  I really don't care.  I ponder life's mysteries and the troubles of the world pass me by.

Need a clover?  Email me.  I'll find one for you especially.  I'll mail it too.

Double Edge Sword: Mom and Confidant

I am a parent.  I have a beautiful, wonderful eight year old daughter.  I can't choose just one word to describe her.  However, I will say I believe I didn't know the meaning of joy until the moment she was born.  I know she is destined to do wonderful things, because she already does.  Put her in a room and people light up around her.  She is captivating.  She inspires me to be the best person I possibly can be.  Note the word person.  Not Mother.  Mother seems too shallow and narrow-minded.  She brings out the very essence of who I am, then in some way, I move forward as a person.  A long time ago my husband told me he would be honored to be the father of my child.  I must add its an honor to be her Mother.

Nattie and I have something that just feels like magic.  God made me to be this little girl's mother.  I just know he did.

My vision in purple before Church

And now I'm jumping hurdles that seem surreal.  Guidance Counselors.  And my little girl has it all figured out, and does not like to be singled out.  What to do?  More to come.  I must get ready for the happiness of skating.

Big Magic Transforms into Ultra: My Computer

Yes, it took patience.  Patience I didn't feel I possessed.  Yet, here I am, my custom built Ultra Magic under my fingertips bathed in the soft glow of Blue LED lighting from my computer fan.  People rebooting has just become sexy.  And oh so quiet.  Delicious.

Slobber.

I can now formally request a premit to multitask.  I realize I made claim I simply couldn't anymore.  I'm delighted to say I was wrong.  Amazing how perspective changes an idea.  The ability to scan pictures while listening to music and just browsing the internet, all at one time.  So I am decidedly happy.

The journey to finding that one paid professional has come to a close with yet another success.  There are so many things I can do, and I try to be as independent and thrifty as I can.  The best advice I can offer anyone is to see when to find help for a project.  In the end, admitting feasibility and scope to yourself is the best strategy for success.  It's still my project.  I took the time to find the right Professional that saw my vision and made it happen.

Done right.  Finished completely.  I have a source of reliable dependable information that cares about me, plus all my computers.  Lovely isn't it?

Now to go focus on the next big thing, which happens to be rest.  I have spent too much time in front of this screen.  It makes it easier to unplug and leave knowing the next time I'm here, I have more time to spend doing what I love.  Writing.

Parenting Picky: A Nose Story

One of my Google Plus Friends, Bobo Uzala, have been laughingly talking about a picky subject.  I have a couple of photos of my daughter and I with our fingers in our nose... and he commented on them.  Which led to some laughing and sharing one of my house rules/parenting strategies.  I decided to include this entry in my blog because its just good fun and the stories that lead up to why I parent this way might make a person just laugh.

So thanks Bobo!  You picked this one for me~

Parenting gives me complexes.  Watching other children absolutely makes this paramount.  Have you ever been in public and watched a kid really gross you out?  I see kids do some gross things.  That's what kids do.  They horrify us into action.  Bad habits are so easily looked over as a phase.  However, one can say that when its somebody else's gross kid.  One thing that I find incredibly gross happens to be booger picking.  Nothing disgusts me more than seeing a kid knuckle deep in their nose and then eating a plucked out prize.  *shudder*  Then there's the multi-taskers... kids with a thumb in their mouth and a finger in their nostril.  *ooh how disgusting*  The thing is, you just can't avoid boogers.  Everybody has them.  We've all had that epic thing inside our nose that must come out.  My grievance with boogers is not the existence, but the disposal.  I've never told my child not to get rid of a booger, I've merely helped her avoid a terrible habit that other people tease kids mercilessly about.  A habit parents get bent out of shape over.  PDBP.  Public displays of Booger picking.  Take that to the bathroom!  Get a tissue!  Blow!  Anything, but do that in front of me!!

This was a picking lesson gone funny!

So when I first saw my daughter start with the booger thing, I came up with this house rule:  You cannot pick your own nose, however, you can pick someone else's.  WHAT?  By doing this, I pounced on my daughter with my finger whenever I caught her trying to pick her nose and offered my deluxe help.  Then I would offer up my nose for her to 'help' excavate since I couldn't pick mine.  All this horrified my daughter and she would run away into the bathroom or somewhere else privately to get rid of whatever what tickling her nose.  It was a way to point out I could see what she was doing and to remind her how yucky it was.  This plan worked and the result is much laughter and I don't catch my kid digging her nose in public.  She is a staunch believer in tissue.

That does not mean I haven't had to be there for nosebleeds and other fun things we encounter as parents, but it has definitely made my daughter more aware of what she's doing.

She loves my retelling of C's comet.  An unforgettable booger that should go down in history.  It all happened when when C spent the night with her Mom.  It's one of those things you find and think to yourself:  Wow!  That's something I'd show off, but not really.  I found my niece's booger the next day and it was like a bloody comet.  The huge bloody thing was crusted on a blanket and was so big I still laugh.  The trail was at least a good foot.  However, the story is better.

So anyway, I hear pacing in the night and it's my cousin with her daughter.  She's freaking out in the middle of the night because her child had a nosebleed and she had no idea of how to handle it and her daughter was freaking out because she was.  I come up my basement stairs to find the panic and blood everywhere.  I simply take C away from her Mom and open my bedroom door and tell John to get up.  Wow!  In the bright lights of my bathroom I have C, my niece in my arms.  Her face is coated in blood and she has white blond hair with bloody streaks in it.  To get her to stop crying, I just ask:  C?  Did you bite your Mommy's head off?  C looks at me and grins with the biggest bloodiest smile ever and croaks:  YEAH!  I laugh and John hands me the boo-boo bunny.  The boo-boo bunny is an icepack with rabbit ears and I start hopping the bunny around her nose and it stops bleeding.  The whole time her Mom is just in the hallway helplessly watching the old pros handle her child and laugh it all away.  I told C:  Well look, that Mommy's head grew right back!  Be careful next time!

My cousin simply was grateful we were there to calm C down and let her calm down too.  It doesn't sound as funny as being there, but WOW! it was hilarious.  Then there was finding that booger the next day.  It made me understand how hard that kid worked to get so bloody.  And I'll never forget that smile she had with all her bloody teeth.  She looked pleased that it wasn't serious, only Mommy's head.  *FULL BELLY LAUGH*

Picking Those Moments

Really - This was a Conversation

Me:  Some days I have more than brass balls.  I have LEAD ones.  (We were discussing reality, life and other manly pursuits and measuring success rates solely upon the formula all successful people use: testicles + shiny = I AM A MAN.  Size and weight of sack being proportional to difficulty in attaining goal.  Read the line on the sack!)  Humor deepens.

Friend:  I have some of those things.  I've been looking to have mine chromed.  Make 'em shiny, but having problems finding someone to do it.  (Lead!  Why Lead!?)

Me:  No problem!!  Let me pull up GOOGLE.  We shall Chrome you!!  (Bata-bing)  Call me anytime you have a problem.  Oh Yeah.  Google has the answer for your balls! 

Friend:  HAHHAHHAHAHH  (insert cool points)

Me:  HAHAHAHAHHAH (rack 'em)

(OH Snap I'm so fucking CLEVER)

HHAHAHAHHAHAHHAH

Lead balled bitch think tanking with numbnuts...... HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH!

The Tediousness of an Enormous Life

I have so many things that I need to be doing and I find myself at 4 am wishing to find some way to blot out the enormity of it all.  Sometimes I feel as if my life is strangling all the creativity and goodness out of me.  I would like to say that I am more the optimist and look at life as if the glass were half full, but lately I don't think that would be the direction my thoughts take.  What I mean to say is that I am more on the offense than I have ever been in my life.  I feel most anxiety bases itself around the assumption that for every good thing I accomplish, there is an epic failure waiting patiently to manifest itself directly in the path of my self proclaimed happiness.  I resent this.  I feel so much pressure of this enormous responsibility I willingly embrace as my day to day life.  I want to do so many good things.  I have miles of ideas that seem to be swallowed up by the dutifulness of responsibility.  I wish I could just tell the entire world to go fuck off for just a few days and turn itself without me.  Which means, why must I be responsible for everything and why do I give a damn about things that WILL NOT HAPPEN unless I do them?  Where is the happiness in that?  I don't know and I'm losing patience with myself because multitasking has redefined itself for me.  All it means is doing ten things half-assed until I get time to do it right and that is redundant and idiotic.  Something has got to give and I am feeling as if I should hold out a cup and stand on corners and shake it.  Alas pride and duty doesn't allow for such paltry sacrifices of dignity, but occasionally at 4 am, I wish I were that shameless.

So I will leave now because I must get back to answering emails, paying bills, sorting out my computer issues and praying I won't fold under pressure of dance tomorrow.  I've been asked to choose music that defines me and the disco ball that is me feels this task is impossible.  Ask for the moon instead.  I might be able to achieve that.  It feels more attainable than finding my alter ego.  I want to ask the dance teacher.... which one do you want?  

The Stigma Surrounding Being Medicated

Hello.  My name is Twotablesnotime and I am medicated.  I have been medicated since 2002 when my sister Lynn passed away from an overdose of Oxycontin.  The horror of watching my sister die for a week was too much for me.  I circled the drain self medicating and finally landed myself in a psychiatrist's office.  Then the merry-go-round of prescription drugs began.  I don't know which is worse,  the dangers of street drugs or a doctor attempting to find the perfect recipe using me as a main ingredient.  I had a lot of tests done.  That was when words like ADD, OCD, PSD and Bi-Polar whirled around me.

It was misery.  Coping with loss and attempting sanity.  Then getting pregnant and having to go cold turkey was torture.  If there is such a thing as hell, it is being trapped inside your head and not being able to cry out.  I suffered through that without telling my husband how horrible it really was and how close a friend suicide seemed to be.  I just wanted it to stop.  However, I wanted to be a mom more.

There is a stigma attached to being medicated.  Truly.  I have asthma and severe allergies.  I went to emergency care over an asthma attack and the doctor tried to tell me it was in my head.  Can I just say he looked at my chart and saw my medications and said this?  I called him a worm and told him it took me all night to get where I was and not to fucking tell me what he thinks is in my damned head.  Then I guess he saw I had insurance and wanted to run a battery of tests on me.  This is where I told him to basically go fuck himself and that I was leaving.  How insulting can a person be?

Another doctor, my podiatrist took anxiety personally.  How dare I cry in her presence.  How dare I be anxious.  Lady there is nothing wrong with me other than the fact my foot hurts and I waited an hour to see you and I think you are a sadist because there are no stools in the waiting room to prop my feet on.

Which leads me to the whole reason I'm writing about this.  I just called about having my prescription written for pickup early since its due while I'm on vacation.  I was told my voodoo doctor refused this.  I was ok with that until I was informed that more than likely I won't get a refill until January.  So I must go a whole month without my medication.  WTF?  I have been a patient for ten years.  This is bullshit.

So now I'm freaking out that I won't be me for a month because its too bad my doctor won't see me.  My head doctor.  How am I supposed to cope?  Good luck with that Faye.  Bite down hard on the shit sandwich.

Say ummm and thank you.

Assimilation is Futile! You will be Resistant - huh?

Damn.  I am going through my CDs and now realize I have two separate time zones in my life in these little shiny disks.  College.  Wow.  I used to sleep more then.. and damn, I own way too many Kenny G albums than doctors recommend. (*SNORT* LAUGH* GUFFAW*)  AND sounds of Nature?  Enya?  Oh Faye.  (*GIGGLE*) tranquility was musically induced.  I have envy of the me before the other me.  Making sense?  I hope not.

 

Then with much work, HOLY CRAP.  AK 1200... Madame Mercury...I vibrated my house and added two more days of music to my disk drive.  Oh yeah, I hate Apple and iTunes.  Useless program that powers my iPod.  Oh well, I engaged the machine.  (PLLTTTT!)

 

I even managed to pull one special CDR back from the dead.  Hemisphere.  Then sat and dug through my records to label the tracks.  What a time in my life. 

 

(Still alive!)

 

I turned on the amp and spun the first six tracks of Madame Mercury and sit here basking in the glow of HELL YEAH, I OWN these records.

 

*Bangarang*

 

Going to go see Cyndi Lauper next week.  I happen to have that Barbie.

 

IT's FANTASTIC!

 

Tying Knots in Every Aspect

I have become nimble in the art of tying things into knots.  I'm teaching my daughter the art of friendship bracelet making.  Upon looking through my craft hoard, I came across some black cord that gave me an idea to replace some missing belts from a few of my robes.  So wow, I learned how to braid a five strand braid.  Excellent belt for black robe.  Nattie is wearing a blue dress this morning.  Found a video on how to tie a bow using two fingers.  Pretty impressive.  Was looking at craft toys for Nattie.  Found a gadget that braids cords.  Cut my own stencil and used yarn to sport yet another braided creation that I'm pretty sure my daughter can master easily.  Sounds pretty fidgety doesn't it?  Why don't we throw in some felt pom-pom hair bows too...modified with a felt flower in the center and I made a sunflower.  I think I'll attach that to a headband sometime.

 

All this knot tying has been fun, but I really wish sleep would prevail.  I'm raging an inner argument with myself over values.  It seems monumental to even unravel the mystery of mixed feelings and unease a dear friend triggers whenever we speak these days.

 

I cannot sit quietly.  My friend violates the moral standards I hold near to my heart, and I realize the sensation as repugnance.  Dislike.  Anger.  Hurt.  Then bitterness..as I see the effects cascade into my life.. just because I am within range and sensitivity.

 

I cannot settle.  Settling means loss of dreams and ideals.  Sparks and creation die within the strangling hold of being less than I choose to be.  This will hurt.

 

Whether we want to admit it or not, other people's lives affect us on some level.  I cannot ignore how I feel.  This person, just by association, makes the past crash into my now and Zen.

 

The more I listen to myself, the more I see the forest.  I must fell a tree.  It is obstructing growth.

 

What to say and what to do?  Be myself.  Breathe.  Sleep will come when the dust settles.  Who knows?  Maybe the tree will grow back and surprise me.

 

Magic thinks.

Hopes.

 

Boredom versus Having a Life: I wish for the Grey Area

Things that may cause the world to shift magnetic poles seem to crop up around my universe and its clogging my Feng Shui.  I thought I really needed to get a life when the fact of the matter is I have an extensive one with all the options.  I find myself wishing for a daily set that includes less.  Call it downsizing if you will. 

 

No longer shall I wish to pull vocal cords out of the people that exclaim how happy they are to see me out and about.  Too messy.  Let them think I'm a loser hermit.  Then they won't ask for anything all the while saying they are the type of person that doesn't.

 

Next, rebellion.  I pass on that.  Rebellion is for those wishing to fuck everything they know up.  I am not that type.  Shake things up.  Sure.  Rebel.  After thinking it through and giving it a test run, forget it.  Rebellion happens to belong to the mind set of do first and think later.  Never works for me.  I'm going to add rebellion to the list of things that happen to other people.

 

More Grey stuff.  So I had some new sign ins for my cave.  I then labeled my Grey Goose bottle:  Dear Maverick (me), You did not kill this goose.  Stop sharing.  Then on another bottle I put in white out:  Dear Bitches (not me), Don't ask where the other bottle is, the answer is NO.  For emphasis I wrote a HUGE 'NO' on the neck of the bottle in white out.  This would be the Captain Morgan.  Top shelf bottle location will not be revealed in this blog.  No is no is NO.

 

I had to do all that note writing because my flask system failed on me.  They drink all that too.  I'll quote one of my lush friends with her own words:  "Mr. Snake, would you babysit my pet rat for me?"  The thing is when the snakes have been in your cave, they know you have bottles somewhere.  Dammit.  Thus we've moved bottles and left kind words on others.

 

Then there is a new sentence I believe I am beginning to dislike.  Formerly I thought it was kind of cool.  After hearing it frequently, nope, it sucks.  Ready for it?  It's a shame you are married.  Another version:  I wish you weren't married.  Be thrilled right?  Wrong.  If you happen to be hanging out this line is fishing for whether or not I'm some cheating skank.  That's in extreme cases.  It can also be the opening statement for finding out if my life sucks so bad I'm willing to their entire life story since I don't have one.  Blah.  Now don't sit there and think I'm some kind of Grinch.  Not every person that says this makes my hackles rise or makes me throw up in my own mouth.  There are very few though.  OK, yeah, if a woman said this to me, I'd probably piss myself with laughter.

 

So then there's women.  I have two girlfriends.  And that is a shaky number.  The rest pretty much hate me.  I'm working on a synopsis as to why I believe I should use the word hate emphatically.  But its hate.  If this were the Matrix and I were Neo, I would want the DAMNED blue pill.  I want to wake up in my bed and believe whatever I want to believe.  But no.  Somewhere along the line I ate that red one.  Therefore, I know its hate.

 

Expanding.  So some people I haven't spoken to in ages send me facebook messages trying to sell the fact they don't talk to my starter husband.  First rule of thumb, if you swear something to me, I believe its a lie.  This person checks in from time to time to see if my life sucks enough to be destitute, which means he can check me off his bucket list.  One of these days when I'm mad enough I'll ask him if my theory on this is true.  He asked why I unfriended him.  I want to write back and ask if he wants the truth or a good lie.  I've hung out with him, he ate the blue pill, or he wouldn't ask.

 

More on Facebook.  A family member I don't speak to asked me to call because he had a question.  Then the next day a cousin leaves me a voicemail.  I hear Twilight Zone music in my head and wonder what nefarious plot is being hatched to fuck up the fact I am seeing my parents and sisters.

 

Holy shit right?  My parents?  I know.  They built a deck on their house and I didn't know it until about a month ago.  I'll be damned if a few cousins and an Uncle are screwing this up for me.  I called the Uncle anyway.  He wanted my help to get his GED.  I cried.  It's true. 

 

However, I'm not calling the cousin.  After the couple of sideways posts on my page that even my husband caught and laughed about, I refuse.  Sideways means:  I have an Aunt that sees me and says wow, I'm not as fat as I was last time she saw me.  I have another family member to comment on my hair.. and now I have a cousin concerned about my tired eyes.  All this is meant to be complimentary.  Complimentary bullshit that came with the side pack o' lies I endured because I love my mother.  I DON'T THINK SO. 

 

Well fingers hurt, and there is so much more to talk about.  I guess I'd better start posting again.   

My Birthday

I don't feel any different than the day before, yet here I am, forty.  My husband convinced my sisters to come visit and after the initial shock, it turned out to be a good thing.  I was able to enjoy listening to my nephews feet hit the pecan tree branches and my niece giggle.

 

My daughter pulled out her banjo and sang Happy Birthday in front of my entire party.  It was amazing.  I was very proud.

 

The actual day, I went to a massage therapist and had lymphatic massage and it was wonderful.  It left me feeling drained from all the energy.

 

All in all, a good birthday.

 

Not to mention, a few days earlier, my daughter helped me find my missing rings.  I'm a lucky person.

 

The fun isn't over though.  This weekend my husband and I are out for more nefarious adventures in turning 40.  I told him to bring lots of dollar bills.  It's going to be fun.

 

Ahh-Cha-Cha!