Dear Readers,
Before I even start, I wanted to share this thought with you.
Love is someone who checks in on you when your shower is particularly long.
It is not like I take little cheesy splashes like so many birds, its just because a long shower is a luxury that I don't typically partake upon. In this shower, I decided to shave without drawing blood, without thinking about the chores and whatnots that would have to happen today, without planning my meals for the day...I even turned off my supersonic mommy hearing. It was very relaxing. I even deep conditioned my hair.
Unfortunately, because there is always an unfortunately...this long shower devoid of useful thinking allowed my brain to go to other places. Not even nice secret dark places of pleasure! Not even those. Trust me, I am really good about using my Me Time. I didn't even remotely consider any of the loveliness and happy spots around my body. Nope. No loving in that shower. Me Time did not warp into Oh Yeah Me Time! Later....
So what did I go....
I bet you want to know.
Dontcha Dontcha Dontcha
Obviously there is a reason that I am here instead of tending to the Artist Formally Known As. Ok, ok, she is asleep, but not for long. It has come to my attention (and this is not the last time or first time) that I say a whole lot online. OF COURSE I DO. I am a Pisces. Sheesh....we LOVE this shit. Anyway.....
In the shower I was indulging in Conversations With You!! I guess the they are best called Conversations With Myself, but no, not really, because in order for them to be Conversations With Myself, I would have to actually answer myself. Conversations With You are conversations that may never ever be answered (as You are not there). Conversations With You are very useful should I ever have the actual conversation with you in Real Time. Then you will be so fascinated with the snappy smart responses. Unbeknownst to you, Conversations With You are almost rehearsals. Sometimes I ad-lib your responses. Those responses range from these levels:
1. What I Wish You Would Say
2. What You Will Probably Say
3. What I Pray That You Don't Even Think Because My Inner Karate ChopSpert May Want To Kick You in The Mouth
Do you understand, Dear Readers, why this shower was so long? Imagine! First of all Conversations With You are seldom with just one person. In this case there was one burning conversation and a few smaller ones. I think I purposely added the few small ones because I didn't want the stress and obligation (STRESS) to Talk to Only One You in my entire shower.
Dear Readers, in the spirit of sharing everything down the to the wart that I burned off this week, I have decided to share today's Conversations With You. I don't think I will go to the trouble of playing with the response ranges. If I do that, we will be here all freaking day and the Artist Formally Known As & I have stuff to do today. Our time is very precious and feels oh so good and DAMN you Pandora for playing Al Green right now. This is not the music for this blog. Oh...deep thoughtful pause and the Lola in me challenges the Christine to a Soul Bop Dance Off.....times are good or bad, happy or sad....
Ok, I am back. I just want to interject, especially to one of my favorite Dear Readers, mother of the King...I really love Ana Steele's inner diva and subconscious and I really think that I have also harbored all these inner Me's and I am so happy that someone thought to write about them. Not so secretly I am seething that I didn't do it first or at the very least in between covers of a novel or three....
What I don't do in my blog is expose the people that I write about. If you are someone who knows me and honestly knows our relationship both here and in Real Time, then you ought to know who you are when I talk about/to you. Ok? Real talk, don't let the cute confuse you, I am uber serious and I do NOTHING ACCIDENTALLY. If you really want to see the me at my best and worst and best again, go visit Lola Tuesday. Most of my Dear Readers have read all of my blogs and follow my FB, Twitter and Google+. Knowledge is power, yo. I am no different. Keep thinking that I don't know. One Dear Ex felt the (sage) need to protect her reputation upon our break up and started telling people that I was the...wait, I need to translate something into Spanish.... dead mosquito...
Mosquito Muerto! This is a person who plays innocent but in real time is quite aware of who they really are. Does anyone really mourn a dead mosquito? Hell to the no. This mosquito is not going ANYWHERE. Anyway, yes, I am well aware of the strength of my words and actions, especially with a willing keyboard at my fingers.
That being say.....BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
First Conversation:
So I missed piano last week...I could have actually made it. What did I miss? I really don't think that I am really taking this class seriously. In fact, as long as you are listening, I can honestly tell you that I only took this class to be near you. I don't know why I am so drawn to you, but I am. Anyhow, I don't want to embarrass myself as I have a man, as well as you and this would go absolutely no where. It is ok for me to have an innocent crush on you. I won't waste your time, but could I trace your ink art with my finger? I think that is what I have always wanted to do. Just trace it. Am I blushing? Yes. I can find middle C. Let's talk piano.
Second Conversation:
No I don't give a rat's ass about you, but maybe I do because you sneak into my thoughts STILL. Jesus take the wheel but you know how to rile me up. Sometimes the effort put into ignoring someone takes so much out of me. Shit. Ugh. No I don't have burning questions. Why would you assume that I want answers that would never be sufficient enough? I don't believe anything that you say. You are a liar, and a poor one. Ugh....such a whiny, pouty, Mistress of Nothing. Embrace the time that we had together and be happy that I am adult enough to anonymously rake through our trash here and not to your face. I don't even want to share this trash pile with you. Ick. Please stalk away on your freakishly tiny feet, attached to those cankles and ample thighs and go...far....away....sheesh.
Third Conversation:
I know that you want to call me. Ha. I have nothing to say to you. You messed it up again, but it was wise for you to do so, because you are right, I will never give up with I have with her. I am in love. You will find someone for you too, I know you will. I wish I could give you advice on how to, but our time was so short.
Fourth Conversation:
DAMN STOP WHISPERING!! How do you expect me to understand you if you insist on whispering?? I really do want to understand that words that are coming out of your mouth but the guttural semi gay semi threatening way that you speak makes my eyes dilute and my arm hair stand on end. Please. Just speak.
Fifth Conversation:
Listen, I really don't dislike you. The truth of the matter is, I will never throw confetti over a relationship outside of mine. As a strong woman of color (insert snicker) talking to someone who surrounds herself by people of color (insert snort) you must know that this is ah different for me. The fact of the matter is, we should probably discuss this over tofu stir fry and absurdly small heads of broccoli. I am deeply dedicated to my relationship and not only do I not expect anyone to treat my man the way that I do, it is simply not anyone's place to worry about such things. The formula is simple: All the players know their place. I would talk about sports but I would pluck it up because I don't follow sports. Not like the other one. Yes, there will always be other ones. It's cool. As long as we all know our place in the magnificent life. The Universe already knows. Namaste.
Sixth Conversation:
Anytime we talk about something that you find to be serious, you ask me not to blog about it. I didn't even know that you read my blogs, so that makes me feel special. I wish we were closer. We don't have much in common, but contrary to popular thought, I do wish we had a stronger familial bond. I don't mind being who I am. I guess I can't really complain about you having events and not including me, because we all know that I seldom show up. I guess what I am trying to say is, I still want to know. I do sometimes feel lonely, but I know that my loneliness is self-afflicted. I rake my fingers through my wildly curly unruly hair and think that this is who I really am. I can't fit the box that you might need me to fit. I should try though. Nope. I won't. I love you all the same.
Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth Conversations:
Please stop pretending to be my friend to sleep with me. By sleep with me, I mean, take my body as if you have some real investment besides your own needy gratification. You missed the window of opportunity when I suffered for absentee self esteem. Now I am well aware that my curves make your eyes roll back and your groin pound. I. Don't. Want. Nor. Do. I. Need. You. To. Touch. Me. First of all, my sex life is very awesome and second of all, I am really quite crafty at pleasuring myself. I enjoy me, all the time, every day. You are not welcome. You ought to practice self gratification. You may however continue to day/noon/night dream about my endlessly long legs wrapping around your body. You may continue to wonder about the point of climax when my back arches, my breath quickens and my eyes shut tight and then snap open to rapt attention. I know what I have, what to do with it, and what it can do to another. So does my man. The position has been filled.
Whew. Dear Readers, I am back. Those last few conversations are making me feel some kind of way. Mmmmmm do I love me.....
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ
A simple start,
Christine
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Sunday, September 2, 2012
New Title...Told You. Still Valid.
Dear Readers:
Pardon the slow title. I will probably change it, making this introduction moot. Whatever.
How are you lovelies? I am so reflective this morning. I don't know if it is because of the raw clams, fries, beer and funnel cake from yesterday's jaunt to Coney Island or what...but OMGenius with the Lolabration going on. I have so much to say, so much to keep to myself but we all know that I am not a pro at keeping anything to myself.
Today, as I have been up for a few hours and I know the artist formally known as does not stir until noon...I have a lot of thoughts to get down.
I have since waking:
1. Responded to a text from my dear father requesting recent pictures of his grandkids. None of me, if you were wondering, as being his favorite has etched my image on his soul forever.
2. Brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
3. Made coffee (unsuccessfully) eggs and trimmed strawberries with a handful of grapes for breakfast.
4. Dealt with the glaring cat by doling out her breakfast.
5. Read a few chapters in Fifty Shades of something or another..book 2.
6. Facebooked...this was done throughout numbers 1-10...which is why my battery is on life support.
7. Thought (hard) this was done throughout numbers 1-10 as well, which is why I am here now.
8. Made more coffee for the artist formally known as and giggled at the thought of going for a walk and leaving this note: Took cat for a stroll, coffee is in the pot. xoxo
9. Flossed, brushed, blinked in my contacts and attempted a better bun in my hair which caused the band to pop, ergo, the mess settled at my shoulders.
10. Peeked in on the artist formally known as, wrapped myself in a quilt and posted my booty here in front of you, Dear Readers.
So it is probably time to get on with my thoughts, in no particular order as you must know, I do nothing in order.
On Happiness:
I wrote a blog some time ago about the fear of forgetting the feeling of happiness. I realize now that I was wrong. You can't really forget the feeling of happiness, but it can be clouded by other emotions. I have never forgotten happiness, I just have manipulated myself (similar to self flogging, it does not really work aside from exhausting yourself) to fit into certain unhappy situations. Realistically, why would anyone do something that they don't like? Why would anyone purposely put themselves in an unhappy situation? I am sure that I have blogged either here or at First Tuesday about the joy of shedding tears. Could it be that I have placed myself in so called unhappy situations simply for the relief of tears? I don't really know. I do know that I have cried this summer, but not nearly as much as last summer and no where close to the summer before. I think, no, actually I know that in order to truly appreciate and experience happiness you simply must appreciate and experience sadness. Sucks, but true Puck. I end this thought with, I am happy. My happiness may not suit others which leads successfully and seamlessly to my next frame of thought...
On How Others Interpret My Happiness:
I am, by trade, a whiner. I whine for various reasons. Friends have called me an Attention Whore and though I protested weakly, I never admitted that I didn't really like the term. There are so many other creative ways to modify Whore. Anyway, let me try to stay on target. So I do whine. I can't say that I don't mean to whine. I can't say I recognize when I whine. I do know this....I do know that people have a way of offering unwanted advice when I whine, but guess what....there is only one person to blame for that. You are reading her words right now. Did you guess correctly? You did. I am the reason. You know how some people wear their heart on their sleeve, and their eyes are the window to their soul? Honey Boo Boo Chile, I am a walking, talking, chanting, all eyes on ME personality. I am the Founder, President, Secretary and Board of my Fan Club. Do you think I could not just blog in a private place and save it for my eyes only? Please...what is the fun in that? I am pretty sure that I have digressed from the title of this portion of my blog, but if you get me, you will carry on and go with it. I think all of this is where Attention Whore comes from. Anyway. Since I have so much to say about my feelings, and since I have such great friends...I think that everyone means well. I think that when I am especially hurt and demonstrative (always) that my friends sit up and take notice. Immediately they want to protect me and I appreciate it. I sincerely do. Then I turn around and repeat the absolute behavior that put me in the especially hurt and demonstrative place and they look at me, horrified. Ok, maybe not horrified, but not pleased. I don't know what to say, except this: What makes me happy fluctuates. I do know what I need to do, with or without your advice, and it does not mean that I don't appreciate you...it simply means I will ultimately do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Please don't throw your hands in the air in frustration...rather throw them in the air and wave them like you just don't care. If you get me, you do. I love you for that. Yes, I will continue to moan and swoon and fall in love and fall in lust and fall over a crack and fail to dance, but trust me, everything happens for a reason. Everything. FYI..at this posting, I am happy. This is a sloppy sedgeway in to my next frame of thought...
On Why it is Silly For You to Love Me:
I am not talking about you Dear Readers. I am not talking about any ex lovers. I am not talking about the artist formally known as. I am kind of talking to future lovers and one almost nearly maybe no lover. I am in love. That love is fortified by lust. I don't think it is the other way around. Actually that is not the real reason it is silly for you to love me. It is silly of you to love me because under all this sweet, considerate, smart, sensual woman of a certain age (36 to be precise) is a train wreck at the station. You thought my plate was full? It is not Thanksgiving full, rather it is Hunger Games bounty in the middle of the field full...full of secrets, booby traps, corpses, backpacks chock full of issues and wannabe lovers disguised as wannabe warriors. It is silly of you to love me because I will always be hung up on other things and I don't just mean the artist formally known as. I mean...I just mean...that I cannot be trusted with any more hearts. My heart (enter whine) has been through so much, but not nearly as much or as little as anyone else. I just don't feel like it. Simple. If you can love me, all my ickyness, all my everything, including my love for the artist formally known as, then maybe, just maybe you are safe to move onward Christian solider. I have always wanted to incorporate onward Christian solider into a blog, but I like the tone of onward Christine solider. Anyway, everyone, including my Dear Readers know not to read so hard into everything that I write, but you should because I do mean every word. I just need everyone to understand that I can be a bit much...more so in text then in person. Ready? Probably not. This does not lead into my next thought as I am not even sure of my next thought and I am truly typing this sentence to get there...nope...nothing. Hmmmmm, on wait...here is one....
On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know:
It has never been easy to be me (this is not a whine, this is real talk). It has never been easy being me but I have figured it out for the most part. While I am not a person with multiple personalities, I am a person with multiple thoughts going on at one time. I am absolutely never just being. My mind is never at rest. There are always thoughts (call them plots, if you may) going on. You really just think that I do things without pondering? You are so wrong. I am not a conniving person, but be damned if you think that I am not cool and calculating. See how I left out calm? I have been accused of being so calm that it looks like I don't care. An assumption has never made such a concentrated ass of itself as that. I am almost never calm, not even at rest. I am always on the verge of JUMP. This is why I blog. I need some way of directing traffic. I need some way of justifying the thoughts that continue to roam through me, haphazardly. If I don't, things will get way out of control. Or maybe not. I don't know...but what I do know is that I am stronger than you will ever know. It is not a single-handed feat, rather an all hands on deck effort. I can't really explain, or maybe I don't really want to, but rest assured, I am always one thought ahead, one action ahead, and etc and so on. This leads to my next thought (just following the near heart attack as my blog disappeared, thank you, dear undo arrow)...
On Why I am Not Easily Defeated:
I am not easily defeated not because I am an untouchable but because I simply don't care about things like other people do. Saying that I don't care may be a little abrasive and unnecessarily so, a better statement would be, I don't sweat the small stuff. I don't really worry about things like other people do. I don't really care that my white skirt has been stained by my favorite bag simply because it is my white skirt and my favorite bag and at sometime or another the two shall meet, maybe resulting in disaster. By the way, the artist formally known as took care of that stain and I do care that she cared enough. I think my view on what is most important does not align with what others see. That is precisely why I am not easily defeated. I know that some things that you do (please don't try to guess the identity of "you" as "you" refers to many) are purposely to hurt me. I also know that some things that you do are not meant to hurt me, rather meant to obtain your immediate gratification. I also know that some things that you do do not fall into either category, rather the gray area known as "Reasons You Are A Simple Bastid". The reason you can't really defeat me is my recovery time is mutantesque fast. Refer to On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know...with all the thoughts going through my head, do you honestly think I have time to dwell on anything for an extraordinary amount of time? Do you think breaking my heart is any different then my white skirt + favorite bag = stain (a removable one at that)? It is not. The reason I can look at one time serene and straight crazy eyed is because I am in constant recovery. Some recovery efforts include tears, of the hot stingy fashion, other recovery efforts include a dismissive eye roll. The point is, I will always be ok. The one thing that I have learned through the constant thought sort is that life is ridiculously short and I sweat nothing, not a skirt and certainly not the multitudes of you (again, do not try to identify the you).
Whew...there is more, but who could read beyond this point....and the artist formally know as is not awake. I must attend to wife business. Heeeh...that statement is going to get me off the counter and onto the burner, but again...white skirt + favorite bag = stain (and most stains can be removed). I must attend to Wife Business and let you (yes you, Dear Readers and you Others) on with your thoughts. Happy weekend, mine most certainly is.
A simple start,
Christine
Pardon the slow title. I will probably change it, making this introduction moot. Whatever.
How are you lovelies? I am so reflective this morning. I don't know if it is because of the raw clams, fries, beer and funnel cake from yesterday's jaunt to Coney Island or what...but OMGenius with the Lolabration going on. I have so much to say, so much to keep to myself but we all know that I am not a pro at keeping anything to myself.
Today, as I have been up for a few hours and I know the artist formally known as does not stir until noon...I have a lot of thoughts to get down.
I have since waking:
1. Responded to a text from my dear father requesting recent pictures of his grandkids. None of me, if you were wondering, as being his favorite has etched my image on his soul forever.
2. Brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
3. Made coffee (unsuccessfully) eggs and trimmed strawberries with a handful of grapes for breakfast.
4. Dealt with the glaring cat by doling out her breakfast.
5. Read a few chapters in Fifty Shades of something or another..book 2.
6. Facebooked...this was done throughout numbers 1-10...which is why my battery is on life support.
7. Thought (hard) this was done throughout numbers 1-10 as well, which is why I am here now.
8. Made more coffee for the artist formally known as and giggled at the thought of going for a walk and leaving this note: Took cat for a stroll, coffee is in the pot. xoxo
9. Flossed, brushed, blinked in my contacts and attempted a better bun in my hair which caused the band to pop, ergo, the mess settled at my shoulders.
10. Peeked in on the artist formally known as, wrapped myself in a quilt and posted my booty here in front of you, Dear Readers.
So it is probably time to get on with my thoughts, in no particular order as you must know, I do nothing in order.
On Happiness:
I wrote a blog some time ago about the fear of forgetting the feeling of happiness. I realize now that I was wrong. You can't really forget the feeling of happiness, but it can be clouded by other emotions. I have never forgotten happiness, I just have manipulated myself (similar to self flogging, it does not really work aside from exhausting yourself) to fit into certain unhappy situations. Realistically, why would anyone do something that they don't like? Why would anyone purposely put themselves in an unhappy situation? I am sure that I have blogged either here or at First Tuesday about the joy of shedding tears. Could it be that I have placed myself in so called unhappy situations simply for the relief of tears? I don't really know. I do know that I have cried this summer, but not nearly as much as last summer and no where close to the summer before. I think, no, actually I know that in order to truly appreciate and experience happiness you simply must appreciate and experience sadness. Sucks, but true Puck. I end this thought with, I am happy. My happiness may not suit others which leads successfully and seamlessly to my next frame of thought...
On How Others Interpret My Happiness:
I am, by trade, a whiner. I whine for various reasons. Friends have called me an Attention Whore and though I protested weakly, I never admitted that I didn't really like the term. There are so many other creative ways to modify Whore. Anyway, let me try to stay on target. So I do whine. I can't say that I don't mean to whine. I can't say I recognize when I whine. I do know this....I do know that people have a way of offering unwanted advice when I whine, but guess what....there is only one person to blame for that. You are reading her words right now. Did you guess correctly? You did. I am the reason. You know how some people wear their heart on their sleeve, and their eyes are the window to their soul? Honey Boo Boo Chile, I am a walking, talking, chanting, all eyes on ME personality. I am the Founder, President, Secretary and Board of my Fan Club. Do you think I could not just blog in a private place and save it for my eyes only? Please...what is the fun in that? I am pretty sure that I have digressed from the title of this portion of my blog, but if you get me, you will carry on and go with it. I think all of this is where Attention Whore comes from. Anyway. Since I have so much to say about my feelings, and since I have such great friends...I think that everyone means well. I think that when I am especially hurt and demonstrative (always) that my friends sit up and take notice. Immediately they want to protect me and I appreciate it. I sincerely do. Then I turn around and repeat the absolute behavior that put me in the especially hurt and demonstrative place and they look at me, horrified. Ok, maybe not horrified, but not pleased. I don't know what to say, except this: What makes me happy fluctuates. I do know what I need to do, with or without your advice, and it does not mean that I don't appreciate you...it simply means I will ultimately do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Please don't throw your hands in the air in frustration...rather throw them in the air and wave them like you just don't care. If you get me, you do. I love you for that. Yes, I will continue to moan and swoon and fall in love and fall in lust and fall over a crack and fail to dance, but trust me, everything happens for a reason. Everything. FYI..at this posting, I am happy. This is a sloppy sedgeway in to my next frame of thought...
On Why it is Silly For You to Love Me:
I am not talking about you Dear Readers. I am not talking about any ex lovers. I am not talking about the artist formally known as. I am kind of talking to future lovers and one almost nearly maybe no lover. I am in love. That love is fortified by lust. I don't think it is the other way around. Actually that is not the real reason it is silly for you to love me. It is silly of you to love me because under all this sweet, considerate, smart, sensual woman of a certain age (36 to be precise) is a train wreck at the station. You thought my plate was full? It is not Thanksgiving full, rather it is Hunger Games bounty in the middle of the field full...full of secrets, booby traps, corpses, backpacks chock full of issues and wannabe lovers disguised as wannabe warriors. It is silly of you to love me because I will always be hung up on other things and I don't just mean the artist formally known as. I mean...I just mean...that I cannot be trusted with any more hearts. My heart (enter whine) has been through so much, but not nearly as much or as little as anyone else. I just don't feel like it. Simple. If you can love me, all my ickyness, all my everything, including my love for the artist formally known as, then maybe, just maybe you are safe to move onward Christian solider. I have always wanted to incorporate onward Christian solider into a blog, but I like the tone of onward Christine solider. Anyway, everyone, including my Dear Readers know not to read so hard into everything that I write, but you should because I do mean every word. I just need everyone to understand that I can be a bit much...more so in text then in person. Ready? Probably not. This does not lead into my next thought as I am not even sure of my next thought and I am truly typing this sentence to get there...nope...nothing. Hmmmmm, on wait...here is one....
On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know:
It has never been easy to be me (this is not a whine, this is real talk). It has never been easy being me but I have figured it out for the most part. While I am not a person with multiple personalities, I am a person with multiple thoughts going on at one time. I am absolutely never just being. My mind is never at rest. There are always thoughts (call them plots, if you may) going on. You really just think that I do things without pondering? You are so wrong. I am not a conniving person, but be damned if you think that I am not cool and calculating. See how I left out calm? I have been accused of being so calm that it looks like I don't care. An assumption has never made such a concentrated ass of itself as that. I am almost never calm, not even at rest. I am always on the verge of JUMP. This is why I blog. I need some way of directing traffic. I need some way of justifying the thoughts that continue to roam through me, haphazardly. If I don't, things will get way out of control. Or maybe not. I don't know...but what I do know is that I am stronger than you will ever know. It is not a single-handed feat, rather an all hands on deck effort. I can't really explain, or maybe I don't really want to, but rest assured, I am always one thought ahead, one action ahead, and etc and so on. This leads to my next thought (just following the near heart attack as my blog disappeared, thank you, dear undo arrow)...
On Why I am Not Easily Defeated:
I am not easily defeated not because I am an untouchable but because I simply don't care about things like other people do. Saying that I don't care may be a little abrasive and unnecessarily so, a better statement would be, I don't sweat the small stuff. I don't really worry about things like other people do. I don't really care that my white skirt has been stained by my favorite bag simply because it is my white skirt and my favorite bag and at sometime or another the two shall meet, maybe resulting in disaster. By the way, the artist formally known as took care of that stain and I do care that she cared enough. I think my view on what is most important does not align with what others see. That is precisely why I am not easily defeated. I know that some things that you do (please don't try to guess the identity of "you" as "you" refers to many) are purposely to hurt me. I also know that some things that you do are not meant to hurt me, rather meant to obtain your immediate gratification. I also know that some things that you do do not fall into either category, rather the gray area known as "Reasons You Are A Simple Bastid". The reason you can't really defeat me is my recovery time is mutantesque fast. Refer to On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know...with all the thoughts going through my head, do you honestly think I have time to dwell on anything for an extraordinary amount of time? Do you think breaking my heart is any different then my white skirt + favorite bag = stain (a removable one at that)? It is not. The reason I can look at one time serene and straight crazy eyed is because I am in constant recovery. Some recovery efforts include tears, of the hot stingy fashion, other recovery efforts include a dismissive eye roll. The point is, I will always be ok. The one thing that I have learned through the constant thought sort is that life is ridiculously short and I sweat nothing, not a skirt and certainly not the multitudes of you (again, do not try to identify the you).
Whew...there is more, but who could read beyond this point....and the artist formally know as is not awake. I must attend to wife business. Heeeh...that statement is going to get me off the counter and onto the burner, but again...white skirt + favorite bag = stain (and most stains can be removed). I must attend to Wife Business and let you (yes you, Dear Readers and you Others) on with your thoughts. Happy weekend, mine most certainly is.
A simple start,
Christine
Monday, July 9, 2012
Just Missed Monday
Dear Readers:
Hello!
I know it is Tuesday. I can tell you first off that it was my intention to post a blog on Monday. I had time all weekend to think about the subject matter of my blog and I believe it is a good one. You might be wondering why I am blogging after midnight (sorry, Monday...). I bet you are dying to know why.
Here is the running list of Why My Monday Blog is being Written on Tuesday:
1. I woke up this morning after a fitful sleep and could not find my laptop.
2. Since I wasted time looking for my laptop, I was rushing and dressed like a pauper with an attitude. (A poor attitude)
3. Once I got to work, I was informed that a teacher flew the coop.
4. My class was completely thrown off by the antics of the runaway teacher.
5. #3 & #4 caused complete chaos.
6. One of my favorite kids lost the title of Best Boy Note Taker and burst into tears, causing me to create a new title, Best Boy Reader. (only after he read me Silly Sally)
7. A new student decided to decorate her book cover with easter egg grass. Don't ask me where she found that shit.
8. I convinced the Best Boy Reader to walk carefully to lunch as he was my personal walker and should I fall, I would most certainly turn to dust.
9. I was offered (ie informed) that I would be absorbing the runaway teacher's students.
10. I arrived to grad class and realized that I actually was unable to read a week's worth of assignments in fifteen minutes.
11. I lost five hours of my life sitting in a grad class.
12. I arrived home to the suspects: a messy home and a lazy band of teenage pirates.
13. I cooked a gourmet meal for said pirates and devoured a chik'n patty off a fork (yes while standing).
14. I nearly drowned from exhaustion in the shower.
15. I cleared my bed (from Operation Throw Everything and Find that GODDAMN Laptop) and set up my lesson planning space. Did I mention I am teaching math and english now?
16. I sat for a moment contemplating my life. (approximately 9min)
17. At 10:30, I crawled into bed with a virgin margarita and started lesson planning for not just my 3rd & 4th graders, but the another teacher's 1st & 2nd graders.
18. Paid $20 for a subscription to a education site. Apparentely it is what ALL the teachers do. Funny, how no one thought to share their password.
19. At midnight I was done, or at least felt down with all the writing, swearing and tooth sucking that had transpired.
20. Decided that I would blog, AS it was the only thing that I really looked forward to for Monday, now Tuesday.
Dear Readers, that list is as detailed as I can recall. Note the as I can recall disclaimer...there was way more. Whatever, right?
Another disclaimer: There is no way in hell I am proofreading this blog. Please take it as is...especially since I have to be up and raring to go in about 6hrs.
Well my blog was about fairness, equality, yada yada.
Unfortunately, my eyes are burning and my heart is kind of oh I don't know, disappointed. Glory to Being Lola! (Morgan Freeman voice) As if that is a surprise. I thought I would get a phone call/text and that didn't come. Apparently silence is the approved method of communication for people who are too reflective to actually say a word.
As a blogger, I understand the reflection, but silence is kind of on the spectrum of dumb. Well maybe not dumb...but since I have not heard otherwise, I deduct as much.
All I know is when a conversation is broached, all parties should be involved in the give and take. Perhaps the conversation has been had with another party and I just missed my invite as I spent another Monday saving the free world.
So I don't really have anything pressing to add to the subject matter of fairness and equality. I mean I can say that it never feels good to be the last to know.
When something involves me, I deserve the same as all others. Perhaps the something simply does not involve me. Maybe I missed something.
You saw my list. It won't be the first time that I miss something. Folk stay telling me that I am missing the point. I don't really know what point because the minute I think I have the point, the point goes dull and there is another point that lo and behold, I missed.
Perhaps my path is too hectic for all this extra.
Last thought, I am rather furious that it is 12:34am and I still have not heard a peep from this phone. Dear Readers, I leave with the age old thought:
You never know what you had until it is gone.
I'm gone for now, but I will communicate with you all soon. I won't just leave you hanging and speculating and eye rolling and tooth sucking and whatnots...
That was a huge run-on sentence. (Damn the devil and cue the waah wah waaaaah)
I am a teacher and I approve this blog.
A simple start,
Lola
Hello!
I know it is Tuesday. I can tell you first off that it was my intention to post a blog on Monday. I had time all weekend to think about the subject matter of my blog and I believe it is a good one. You might be wondering why I am blogging after midnight (sorry, Monday...). I bet you are dying to know why.
Here is the running list of Why My Monday Blog is being Written on Tuesday:
1. I woke up this morning after a fitful sleep and could not find my laptop.
2. Since I wasted time looking for my laptop, I was rushing and dressed like a pauper with an attitude. (A poor attitude)
3. Once I got to work, I was informed that a teacher flew the coop.
4. My class was completely thrown off by the antics of the runaway teacher.
5. #3 & #4 caused complete chaos.
6. One of my favorite kids lost the title of Best Boy Note Taker and burst into tears, causing me to create a new title, Best Boy Reader. (only after he read me Silly Sally)
7. A new student decided to decorate her book cover with easter egg grass. Don't ask me where she found that shit.
8. I convinced the Best Boy Reader to walk carefully to lunch as he was my personal walker and should I fall, I would most certainly turn to dust.
9. I was offered (ie informed) that I would be absorbing the runaway teacher's students.
10. I arrived to grad class and realized that I actually was unable to read a week's worth of assignments in fifteen minutes.
11. I lost five hours of my life sitting in a grad class.
12. I arrived home to the suspects: a messy home and a lazy band of teenage pirates.
13. I cooked a gourmet meal for said pirates and devoured a chik'n patty off a fork (yes while standing).
14. I nearly drowned from exhaustion in the shower.
15. I cleared my bed (from Operation Throw Everything and Find that GODDAMN Laptop) and set up my lesson planning space. Did I mention I am teaching math and english now?
16. I sat for a moment contemplating my life. (approximately 9min)
17. At 10:30, I crawled into bed with a virgin margarita and started lesson planning for not just my 3rd & 4th graders, but the another teacher's 1st & 2nd graders.
18. Paid $20 for a subscription to a education site. Apparentely it is what ALL the teachers do. Funny, how no one thought to share their password.
19. At midnight I was done, or at least felt down with all the writing, swearing and tooth sucking that had transpired.
20. Decided that I would blog, AS it was the only thing that I really looked forward to for Monday, now Tuesday.
Dear Readers, that list is as detailed as I can recall. Note the as I can recall disclaimer...there was way more. Whatever, right?
Another disclaimer: There is no way in hell I am proofreading this blog. Please take it as is...especially since I have to be up and raring to go in about 6hrs.
Well my blog was about fairness, equality, yada yada.
Unfortunately, my eyes are burning and my heart is kind of oh I don't know, disappointed. Glory to Being Lola! (Morgan Freeman voice) As if that is a surprise. I thought I would get a phone call/text and that didn't come. Apparently silence is the approved method of communication for people who are too reflective to actually say a word.
As a blogger, I understand the reflection, but silence is kind of on the spectrum of dumb. Well maybe not dumb...but since I have not heard otherwise, I deduct as much.
All I know is when a conversation is broached, all parties should be involved in the give and take. Perhaps the conversation has been had with another party and I just missed my invite as I spent another Monday saving the free world.
So I don't really have anything pressing to add to the subject matter of fairness and equality. I mean I can say that it never feels good to be the last to know.
When something involves me, I deserve the same as all others. Perhaps the something simply does not involve me. Maybe I missed something.
You saw my list. It won't be the first time that I miss something. Folk stay telling me that I am missing the point. I don't really know what point because the minute I think I have the point, the point goes dull and there is another point that lo and behold, I missed.
Perhaps my path is too hectic for all this extra.
Last thought, I am rather furious that it is 12:34am and I still have not heard a peep from this phone. Dear Readers, I leave with the age old thought:
You never know what you had until it is gone.
I'm gone for now, but I will communicate with you all soon. I won't just leave you hanging and speculating and eye rolling and tooth sucking and whatnots...
That was a huge run-on sentence. (Damn the devil and cue the waah wah waaaaah)
I am a teacher and I approve this blog.
A simple start,
Lola
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
This Is The Worst Time To Blog
Dear Readers:
My mind and my heart are going in a million directions. I find that I am feeling one thing and saying another...saying one thing and feeling another. It is at the very least exhausting. I can't say to much because then I WILL SAY TOO MUCH. How exhausting is that?
There is no real answer. If Alice In Wonderland were I...ok, see I am not making any sense.
So why blog?
Why not?
Blogging centers me. It helps me to put things in prospective. It makes me happy, sometimes.
When I was younger, and I felt really sad, I always did the same thing. I knew that I would feel better if I cried. I was way ahead of the crowd. How many preteens know that tears make things all better? Maybe they do now, but I didn't have Pretty Little Liars. You don't learn to cry from Charles In Charge. Anyway.
I would go upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom with my tape player. I would turn off the overhead lights, because sometimes my Papa had McGruber'ed a light bulb near the mirror. I would turn on that bulb and set my tape to play Eric Carmen's All By Myself. I don't think anything else was on that tape. I recorded the song from Z100. I would put that song on, look in the mirror at my flushed cheeks and hope for answers. I would sing along with Eric and sure enough, I would start crying.
If you ever want to see something pathetic, watch a 12 year old sing along to a Eric Carmen while looking into a warped mirror with the aid of a naked light bulb.
That song still gets me. Just thinking about the lyrics, I feel sad for Eric and myself. I feel sad for twelve year old Christine, way before she ever became Lola. I think about the things that made me sad then, I don't really remember because I am sure that they are small potatoes at this point. Actually, I am sure that they were really important, those Sad Makers. They were just important to me then.
The Sad Makers now are also important. I know the power of a good cry. However, now as an adult (what a killjoy) I know that tears are powerful but they don't really do anything for the problem at hand. They handle all the physical manifestations of unhappiness. By physical, I mean that choked up, hot, heavy weepy feel. Tears generally relieve that pressure. However....
They don't really fix the problem, which is a BIGGER PROBLEM, because I am not 100% sure of what the problem is.
I know what I want.
I know what to do to get it, or some semblance of it.
I don't know if I am up for the job.
Everything takes work. I know this. The last year of The Life of Lola has been exhausting. My God, I don't want to complain. Many great things happened at a cost. That sounds like a complaint.
I should just shut the f%#$ up and go off to some quiet corner and f%#$ myself.
What is alarming is that this laptop is totally unreliable.
I am on a thin line between No and Oh Hell No and if this laptop dies on me.....
You know what, the issue is that I have no one to talk to, rather no one that I care to hear an opinion from so I just write. I just write and permanently air my shit out here. You can read or not read, you can even offer advice, but there is no pressure because I am not asking.
How can I ask for advice when I don't even know what I need?
I am tired of this new level of self-awareness. I kind of miss being oblivious. Sometimes people consider me naive. That would be such a treat. On the contrary, I am so damn aware.
I was this way at twelve, before I became Lola. I am this way now. I will probably be this way at forty...ie The Dawn of Change.
I swear that I won't feel this confused and discombobulated at forty, but who knows? I said the same shit at the following ages:
18 talking about 20
25 talking about 30
31 talking and 35
and now 36 talking about 40
Each time I get closer to an answer, I think because I become more aware of my life ending. I don't want my life to end on this note. I don't want to take my last breath wondering what if, swearing at the why...
I can't say I am near my last breath. I mean for the most part I eat right and take great care of my health. However, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that if something should cause my demise, and I be aware of it, I will have some damning thoughts.
How does a person live life to the fullest? There is so much that I need to do, and eventually someone to do it with. I mean, it is possible to do things on my own. For the most part, I do things on my own. I would like someone to share things with.
Today for instance, we wore moustaches in an Italian restaurant. At the time I joked that it could be crossed off my bucket list. It was not REALLY on my bucket list, but I feel like it has gained the notoriety.
Whatever.
I think so much. I feel so much. How do the shallow do it? There are people out there, by their actions I concur that they don't feel nearly as much as I do. That seems so simplified.
How do the YOLO people do it? So during my sabbatical from work I have become really learned in hip hop and YOLO is a catchy song. You only live once, that's the motto of YOLO....lol. There is no LOL in the song, but I laughed the first time I caught myself singing along.
Maybe I need to write a list. I am not really a list person. My ex loooooooves lists. In fact the ex before her did too....as does the person I am seeing now. Sheesh...what is it about me that attracts List Makers?
Trust me, I am not someone who works well with a List Maker. They loooove plans, I can't say that I do. I think that I give them relieve from their hectic lives....kind of like Aruba. No one wants to stay in Aruba forever. Trust me, they don't.
Again...this is the worst time to blog. It is the worst because I have so much to say, so little to resolve, and no one to talk to, really, without just digging my own hole.
I have dug myself into such a ditch as it is.
Perhaps I can just be content that this is my life and I need to plan for my next one. I want to believe in reincarnation because I have screwed up so much of my past thirty-six years.
Please don't tell me to start now. Better living is just like changing your eating habits. It is not enough to go on a diet. It is all or nothing.
Right now I am not ready for all or nothing.
I don't know what I want. Well I do.
I know that it is unattainable. Maybe I am being stubborn.
I am not afraid of the unknown. I said I don't make lists, shoot MY EVERY MOMENT IS THE UNKNOWN.
LOL.
I am just tired and I don't want to give up.
Again..this is the worst time to blog. It is too late. I have a long day tomorrow.
Not only do I have an emotion for every occasion, I have an excuse to weather the emotion.
Wow.
Did I waste your time? I am sorry. Let me promise to you and myself, Dear Readers, that the next time it is The Worst Time to Blog that I stay the fuck away from the keys.
A Simple Start,
Lola
My mind and my heart are going in a million directions. I find that I am feeling one thing and saying another...saying one thing and feeling another. It is at the very least exhausting. I can't say to much because then I WILL SAY TOO MUCH. How exhausting is that?
There is no real answer. If Alice In Wonderland were I...ok, see I am not making any sense.
So why blog?
Why not?
Blogging centers me. It helps me to put things in prospective. It makes me happy, sometimes.
When I was younger, and I felt really sad, I always did the same thing. I knew that I would feel better if I cried. I was way ahead of the crowd. How many preteens know that tears make things all better? Maybe they do now, but I didn't have Pretty Little Liars. You don't learn to cry from Charles In Charge. Anyway.
I would go upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom with my tape player. I would turn off the overhead lights, because sometimes my Papa had McGruber'ed a light bulb near the mirror. I would turn on that bulb and set my tape to play Eric Carmen's All By Myself. I don't think anything else was on that tape. I recorded the song from Z100. I would put that song on, look in the mirror at my flushed cheeks and hope for answers. I would sing along with Eric and sure enough, I would start crying.
If you ever want to see something pathetic, watch a 12 year old sing along to a Eric Carmen while looking into a warped mirror with the aid of a naked light bulb.
That song still gets me. Just thinking about the lyrics, I feel sad for Eric and myself. I feel sad for twelve year old Christine, way before she ever became Lola. I think about the things that made me sad then, I don't really remember because I am sure that they are small potatoes at this point. Actually, I am sure that they were really important, those Sad Makers. They were just important to me then.
The Sad Makers now are also important. I know the power of a good cry. However, now as an adult (what a killjoy) I know that tears are powerful but they don't really do anything for the problem at hand. They handle all the physical manifestations of unhappiness. By physical, I mean that choked up, hot, heavy weepy feel. Tears generally relieve that pressure. However....
They don't really fix the problem, which is a BIGGER PROBLEM, because I am not 100% sure of what the problem is.
I know what I want.
I know what to do to get it, or some semblance of it.
I don't know if I am up for the job.
Everything takes work. I know this. The last year of The Life of Lola has been exhausting. My God, I don't want to complain. Many great things happened at a cost. That sounds like a complaint.
I should just shut the f%#$ up and go off to some quiet corner and f%#$ myself.
What is alarming is that this laptop is totally unreliable.
I am on a thin line between No and Oh Hell No and if this laptop dies on me.....
You know what, the issue is that I have no one to talk to, rather no one that I care to hear an opinion from so I just write. I just write and permanently air my shit out here. You can read or not read, you can even offer advice, but there is no pressure because I am not asking.
How can I ask for advice when I don't even know what I need?
I am tired of this new level of self-awareness. I kind of miss being oblivious. Sometimes people consider me naive. That would be such a treat. On the contrary, I am so damn aware.
I was this way at twelve, before I became Lola. I am this way now. I will probably be this way at forty...ie The Dawn of Change.
I swear that I won't feel this confused and discombobulated at forty, but who knows? I said the same shit at the following ages:
18 talking about 20
25 talking about 30
31 talking and 35
and now 36 talking about 40
Each time I get closer to an answer, I think because I become more aware of my life ending. I don't want my life to end on this note. I don't want to take my last breath wondering what if, swearing at the why...
I can't say I am near my last breath. I mean for the most part I eat right and take great care of my health. However, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that if something should cause my demise, and I be aware of it, I will have some damning thoughts.
How does a person live life to the fullest? There is so much that I need to do, and eventually someone to do it with. I mean, it is possible to do things on my own. For the most part, I do things on my own. I would like someone to share things with.
Today for instance, we wore moustaches in an Italian restaurant. At the time I joked that it could be crossed off my bucket list. It was not REALLY on my bucket list, but I feel like it has gained the notoriety.
Whatever.
I think so much. I feel so much. How do the shallow do it? There are people out there, by their actions I concur that they don't feel nearly as much as I do. That seems so simplified.
How do the YOLO people do it? So during my sabbatical from work I have become really learned in hip hop and YOLO is a catchy song. You only live once, that's the motto of YOLO....lol. There is no LOL in the song, but I laughed the first time I caught myself singing along.
Maybe I need to write a list. I am not really a list person. My ex loooooooves lists. In fact the ex before her did too....as does the person I am seeing now. Sheesh...what is it about me that attracts List Makers?
Trust me, I am not someone who works well with a List Maker. They loooove plans, I can't say that I do. I think that I give them relieve from their hectic lives....kind of like Aruba. No one wants to stay in Aruba forever. Trust me, they don't.
Again...this is the worst time to blog. It is the worst because I have so much to say, so little to resolve, and no one to talk to, really, without just digging my own hole.
I have dug myself into such a ditch as it is.
Perhaps I can just be content that this is my life and I need to plan for my next one. I want to believe in reincarnation because I have screwed up so much of my past thirty-six years.
Please don't tell me to start now. Better living is just like changing your eating habits. It is not enough to go on a diet. It is all or nothing.
Right now I am not ready for all or nothing.
I don't know what I want. Well I do.
I know that it is unattainable. Maybe I am being stubborn.
I am not afraid of the unknown. I said I don't make lists, shoot MY EVERY MOMENT IS THE UNKNOWN.
LOL.
I am just tired and I don't want to give up.
Again..this is the worst time to blog. It is too late. I have a long day tomorrow.
Not only do I have an emotion for every occasion, I have an excuse to weather the emotion.
Wow.
Did I waste your time? I am sorry. Let me promise to you and myself, Dear Readers, that the next time it is The Worst Time to Blog that I stay the fuck away from the keys.
A Simple Start,
Lola
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Facebook Paused
Dear Readers:
How are you? First and foremost, I would like to welcome my newest follower. She is someone from my Facebook who has opted to follow me here. Why? Why would she do such a thing?? Well...in the next twelve hours or so, I will deactivate my Facebook.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Seriously. I just have so much going on right now. I have deactivated before and when I decided to go back, every single thing was right where I left it. It was like a monument to my internet life. The same friends, the same everything. So it is what it is.
I need an emotional reboot and Facebook is preventing me from doing that. It turns out that I am painfully honest (ie transparent) on Facebook. My mood is immediately evident by first morning status post. I don't particularly mind folks knowing what is going on in my head. Pause. No Homo. Pause. However, there is such a great chance that there are some people just awaiting some shit to go down. While I don't want to disappoint them, my Facebook (ab)use is preventing me from realistically dealing with my own shit.
I was very considerate as I informed everyone that I was heading out. I left this address for anyone who was still interested. I imagine that gross enemies in the mine would not waste precious time reading all of this, so maybe they won't follow. The crazy thing is, even folk who are not plotting against my very inch of sanity, might be inadvertently wishing me harm. I can't exactly explain why, but one needn't be allergic to bee stings in order to feel the pain.
I sound like Methaphor Man...that is the name my son gave to his school therapist. For every situation Methaphor Man is ready and armed to spew some wonderfulness that has so little to do with the actual situation.
Anyway....here I am. I still need to write and it is nice of you to read. I only have one Dear Reader who is quite frequent with her comments. I have other ones, the shy ones, who rather shoot me a text or email. All are welcome.
Now I have a teenage boy in front of me who is demanding to know why:
I deactivated Facebook
I am blogging
He can't read over my shoulder
He can't stay in the living room with me and not say anything
I am blogging
So now he is going to sit here and chew at his nail beds knowing that that drives me nuts. He wants to read this blog after, so I will let him. Afterall, this blog is public. So are you happy?? Is this what you wanted to see? The Secret Life of Mom....sheesh.
Sorry for that brief interuption brought to you by the makers of WTF Was I Thinking.
My Facebook is still up so that people can be informed and so that they can jot down this address if they need it. Aha...another question totally irrelevant to anything in life right now from the nail bed chewing teen on the other couch.
I don't know how long this break will last. I mean, honestly, I do appreciate that I can get a snapshot of everyone's day from Facebook. Where else can you know what 438 (I think) friends are doing at one moment in time? No where.
It is the greatest creation since Big Brother...don't think that they are not watching. It is my thought that one day I publish all of these blogs, but I obviously can't make a profit because why buy the cow when you can stroke her, milk her, drink said milk and take a picture because it lasts longer for free?
I will keep for the time being, my Instagram, Twitter and Foursquare.
Instagram is endless entertainment as I love looking, commenting and posting pics. Twitter is kind of a waste of time, but whatever. Foursquare is only really fun if I can maintain mayorships. I also use Foursquare to check in for that one person who loves to know where I am at every.given.moment.
And enter Gypsy, the Ninja Cat. Just like my kids, she can't deal with me doing anything that does that concern her. So now, she will commence to bathe. As the washdown becomes more furious, her little red bell will ring, ring, RING. That is ok. The real distraction will be when she decides to walk across my lap.
Oh...another comment from the nail bed biting teen on the other couch. Remember the quiet one? Now he wants to chuckle and make a joke about the bathing beauty to my left. Am I surprised? Not hardly. It is all good. Not like I am doing anything of importance.
It is 5:11pm. My next order of business is to steam (first came out as steal) some veggies for dinner. There is a cornish hen left over from yesterday. Will my family explode in thunderous applause at the prospect of leftovers coupled with steamed veggies? Probably not.
It is all good. I am supposed to feed them, not dazzle them.
After I do that, it is on to my little white pill and a nightcap. I will probably (definitely) fall asleep after that. I will sleep until about 10pm. From 10-1am, I will not check my Facebook. Damn...that is what I usually do. Nope, I will maybe read, maybe catch up on Netflix.
Such is my life. I am up relatively early, so at this hour...chores (the ones I feel like doing) are complete and I've already had a heavy lunch of beans, spinach and fake chicken.
I don't really need much else. I may have company, I may not. Whatever, yo.
I thank you for being here, whether old or new. Tomorrow is a bright, shiny new day and I am already looking forward to it.
A simple start,
Christine
If you see poorly spelled words, forgive me. Everytime I spellcheck, my pc freezes.
How are you? First and foremost, I would like to welcome my newest follower. She is someone from my Facebook who has opted to follow me here. Why? Why would she do such a thing?? Well...in the next twelve hours or so, I will deactivate my Facebook.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Seriously. I just have so much going on right now. I have deactivated before and when I decided to go back, every single thing was right where I left it. It was like a monument to my internet life. The same friends, the same everything. So it is what it is.
I need an emotional reboot and Facebook is preventing me from doing that. It turns out that I am painfully honest (ie transparent) on Facebook. My mood is immediately evident by first morning status post. I don't particularly mind folks knowing what is going on in my head. Pause. No Homo. Pause. However, there is such a great chance that there are some people just awaiting some shit to go down. While I don't want to disappoint them, my Facebook (ab)use is preventing me from realistically dealing with my own shit.
I was very considerate as I informed everyone that I was heading out. I left this address for anyone who was still interested. I imagine that gross enemies in the mine would not waste precious time reading all of this, so maybe they won't follow. The crazy thing is, even folk who are not plotting against my very inch of sanity, might be inadvertently wishing me harm. I can't exactly explain why, but one needn't be allergic to bee stings in order to feel the pain.
I sound like Methaphor Man...that is the name my son gave to his school therapist. For every situation Methaphor Man is ready and armed to spew some wonderfulness that has so little to do with the actual situation.
Anyway....here I am. I still need to write and it is nice of you to read. I only have one Dear Reader who is quite frequent with her comments. I have other ones, the shy ones, who rather shoot me a text or email. All are welcome.
Now I have a teenage boy in front of me who is demanding to know why:
I deactivated Facebook
I am blogging
He can't read over my shoulder
He can't stay in the living room with me and not say anything
I am blogging
So now he is going to sit here and chew at his nail beds knowing that that drives me nuts. He wants to read this blog after, so I will let him. Afterall, this blog is public. So are you happy?? Is this what you wanted to see? The Secret Life of Mom....sheesh.
Sorry for that brief interuption brought to you by the makers of WTF Was I Thinking.
My Facebook is still up so that people can be informed and so that they can jot down this address if they need it. Aha...another question totally irrelevant to anything in life right now from the nail bed chewing teen on the other couch.
I don't know how long this break will last. I mean, honestly, I do appreciate that I can get a snapshot of everyone's day from Facebook. Where else can you know what 438 (I think) friends are doing at one moment in time? No where.
It is the greatest creation since Big Brother...don't think that they are not watching. It is my thought that one day I publish all of these blogs, but I obviously can't make a profit because why buy the cow when you can stroke her, milk her, drink said milk and take a picture because it lasts longer for free?
I will keep for the time being, my Instagram, Twitter and Foursquare.
Instagram is endless entertainment as I love looking, commenting and posting pics. Twitter is kind of a waste of time, but whatever. Foursquare is only really fun if I can maintain mayorships. I also use Foursquare to check in for that one person who loves to know where I am at every.given.moment.
And enter Gypsy, the Ninja Cat. Just like my kids, she can't deal with me doing anything that does that concern her. So now, she will commence to bathe. As the washdown becomes more furious, her little red bell will ring, ring, RING. That is ok. The real distraction will be when she decides to walk across my lap.
Oh...another comment from the nail bed biting teen on the other couch. Remember the quiet one? Now he wants to chuckle and make a joke about the bathing beauty to my left. Am I surprised? Not hardly. It is all good. Not like I am doing anything of importance.
It is 5:11pm. My next order of business is to steam (first came out as steal) some veggies for dinner. There is a cornish hen left over from yesterday. Will my family explode in thunderous applause at the prospect of leftovers coupled with steamed veggies? Probably not.
It is all good. I am supposed to feed them, not dazzle them.
After I do that, it is on to my little white pill and a nightcap. I will probably (definitely) fall asleep after that. I will sleep until about 10pm. From 10-1am, I will not check my Facebook. Damn...that is what I usually do. Nope, I will maybe read, maybe catch up on Netflix.
Such is my life. I am up relatively early, so at this hour...chores (the ones I feel like doing) are complete and I've already had a heavy lunch of beans, spinach and fake chicken.
I don't really need much else. I may have company, I may not. Whatever, yo.
I thank you for being here, whether old or new. Tomorrow is a bright, shiny new day and I am already looking forward to it.
A simple start,
Christine
If you see poorly spelled words, forgive me. Everytime I spellcheck, my pc freezes.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Be Right Back To Name This Blog
Dear Readers,
Like most blogs, I have been mentally writing this all day. Actually, I started writing it yesterday, but I ended up elsewhere and really could not write. So.
Now I don't really know where to start, but yeah, don't I always say a simple start?
First, in honor of Father's Day, this blog is dedicated to family planning.
Last Sunday was Father's Day and as years before, I was wished a Happy Father's Day. Now Dear Readers, I am being really transparent when I say that I a female. OMG. Sidebar, being home on Friday nights is killing me. I am not used to being around my children soooooooo much. Does that sound bad? Whatever, it works for us. They are teens, they don't need me in their face. I don't know what I am going to start doing on Fridays, but I need to be a volunteer fireman or something.
Anyway...back to family planning. If you are one of those sistas who gets bent out of shape...you may not want to continue. I trust that my Readers are adults.
I am not a dad.
I am not a father.
I am not a male capable of producing sperm and delivering said sperm to an egg.
I am not a male capable of legally adopting a child.
I am not a male animal who has taken on a responsibility of a baby animal.
I am a woman who despite it all celebrates her motherhood. Here is the defense people give me...but you do it all on your own.
ALRIGHT. ALL OF THE ABOVE WAS ALL THAT WAS RECOVERED AFTER MY COMPUTER CRASHED.
I said that I was not going to rewrite it. I am not.
This is what you are missing Dear Readers...
1. Lola on Change
2. Lola on Starting Over
I also wrote about Pride Sunday and my friend wearing my favorite pajama pants without panties.
She defended herself because she just had a wax. No pubes. That is what she said.
So last Pride I spent it with my ex and friends (couples of course). At one point someone mentioned my ex's current (who they all thought was just a mutual friend)....and the event changed. Anyway on the way back, we rode in a the back of a car and I cried the whole way home. Have you ever seen the traffic during Pride? I cried on her lap. I was so aware that we were over, that there was no chance, that this was really truly it. Since then.....I don't know. I am just learning not to hate her.
Anyway. This Pride, I will find a gay free place. I don't know how I will get away with it. I mentioned to my pantiless friend that I might go to Coney Island. I anticipate all the gays to be sashaying through Manhattan.
I just don't see the point of going. Pride, to me, is for couples....or people looking to secure a summer love. I already love. I don't need to find that. I am talking shit, it is just not for those two groups. I don't know a damn thing.
Again...change.
So I am heading to the beach tomorrow after Weight Watchers. I want to tan nice and dark. My weekend, at least about 24hrs of it will be the usual...then on Pride I will head home.
What do I really care? I know Dear Readers, I care too much.
So my pantiless friend has taken this opportunity to fall asleep on my couch. I guess now is a good time to talk smack about her. I really don't have anything smackesque to say. She took me to dinner, offered to get my manicure done, and ordered pizza for the kids.
I love her. She is pretty awesome and I am not just saying that because she will read this blog.
Speaking of reading, when is the last time I thanked you for coming, for visiting, for checking in the day after? I love you, Dear Readers.
I fear typing much more or even editting, since the laptop erased half of my thoughts. Half of my thoughts is a whole lot.
I am pretty sure I will submit a drunken blog on Sunday. Stay tuned.
A simple start,
Lola/Christine...what did I sign off as last time?
Like most blogs, I have been mentally writing this all day. Actually, I started writing it yesterday, but I ended up elsewhere and really could not write. So.
Now I don't really know where to start, but yeah, don't I always say a simple start?
First, in honor of Father's Day, this blog is dedicated to family planning.
Last Sunday was Father's Day and as years before, I was wished a Happy Father's Day. Now Dear Readers, I am being really transparent when I say that I a female. OMG. Sidebar, being home on Friday nights is killing me. I am not used to being around my children soooooooo much. Does that sound bad? Whatever, it works for us. They are teens, they don't need me in their face. I don't know what I am going to start doing on Fridays, but I need to be a volunteer fireman or something.
Anyway...back to family planning. If you are one of those sistas who gets bent out of shape...you may not want to continue. I trust that my Readers are adults.
I am not a dad.
I am not a father.
I am not a male capable of producing sperm and delivering said sperm to an egg.
I am not a male capable of legally adopting a child.
I am not a male animal who has taken on a responsibility of a baby animal.
I am a woman who despite it all celebrates her motherhood. Here is the defense people give me...but you do it all on your own.
ALRIGHT. ALL OF THE ABOVE WAS ALL THAT WAS RECOVERED AFTER MY COMPUTER CRASHED.
I said that I was not going to rewrite it. I am not.
This is what you are missing Dear Readers...
1. Lola on Change
2. Lola on Starting Over
I also wrote about Pride Sunday and my friend wearing my favorite pajama pants without panties.
She defended herself because she just had a wax. No pubes. That is what she said.
So last Pride I spent it with my ex and friends (couples of course). At one point someone mentioned my ex's current (who they all thought was just a mutual friend)....and the event changed. Anyway on the way back, we rode in a the back of a car and I cried the whole way home. Have you ever seen the traffic during Pride? I cried on her lap. I was so aware that we were over, that there was no chance, that this was really truly it. Since then.....I don't know. I am just learning not to hate her.
Anyway. This Pride, I will find a gay free place. I don't know how I will get away with it. I mentioned to my pantiless friend that I might go to Coney Island. I anticipate all the gays to be sashaying through Manhattan.
I just don't see the point of going. Pride, to me, is for couples....or people looking to secure a summer love. I already love. I don't need to find that. I am talking shit, it is just not for those two groups. I don't know a damn thing.
Again...change.
So I am heading to the beach tomorrow after Weight Watchers. I want to tan nice and dark. My weekend, at least about 24hrs of it will be the usual...then on Pride I will head home.
What do I really care? I know Dear Readers, I care too much.
So my pantiless friend has taken this opportunity to fall asleep on my couch. I guess now is a good time to talk smack about her. I really don't have anything smackesque to say. She took me to dinner, offered to get my manicure done, and ordered pizza for the kids.
I love her. She is pretty awesome and I am not just saying that because she will read this blog.
Speaking of reading, when is the last time I thanked you for coming, for visiting, for checking in the day after? I love you, Dear Readers.
I fear typing much more or even editting, since the laptop erased half of my thoughts. Half of my thoughts is a whole lot.
I am pretty sure I will submit a drunken blog on Sunday. Stay tuned.
A simple start,
Lola/Christine...what did I sign off as last time?
Monday, June 18, 2012
HappYness: WTH Happened??
Dear Readers:
I am so frustrated. I am frustrated because once again I find myself in a similar situation. When will I learn? It is useless to share the situation with you, because I have realized that it is not the situation, it is my handling of it.
Lola on Happiness
What is happiness? What makes you happy and what does it feel like, look like, taste like? I am afraid that I have forgotten what it truly feels like for me. Listen, one of the one things that I forgot and I will not get back is the sound of my Grandma's voice. I never thought I would forget that and the day that I did, it was a terrible realization. The next major thing that I forgot was the feeling of hunger. I have dieted so much, disguised for myself my true feelings so much, that I now do not know when I am actually hungry. Do you know how I know? When I am lightheaded. That is crazy. I am afraid I have forgotten happiness. How do I know if I am truly happy or just not sad? The opposite of happy can be many different emotions: sad, angry, depressed, moody...I mean, which is it? Why do I need to know? Why can't I just know? My inability to know what truly is happy is ruining every relationship that I am involved in.
See. This is why I can't blog under too much stress. I have so many plates spinning in the air right now. Real Housewives of NJ are on...I have downed 12ozs of Moscato, I am....overly distracted and annoyed.
I should not be annoyed. I went for a mani and pedi today...I don't know.
I don't know what it will take to make me happy. I remember vaguely the feeling, but lately I am just sabotaging everything. I know why. Clearly there is a piece of me who believes that I don't deserve more. My internal struggle with myself is spilling all over my external. It is not pretty.
It is not sexy.
It is not funny.
It is not what anyone (especially me) wants.
I am one by one excluding myself from healthy relationships because I am falling back into the same rut.
The same rut that is hindering my whole life.
Lola on Marriage
I steady say that I don't want to marry. What a crock of shit. I want a ring. I want a dress, a veil, a party, someone who just wants me. I want someone who's day does not begin until they set eyes on me.
Is that going to happen? OF COURSE NOT. I will tell you why:
I am 36yo mother of two teens.
I have just started a brand new career.
I am still trying to finish grad school.
I am too nice.
Ok, the first three make sense. Who wants someone on the journey to 40? No one.
Let me explain the nice part. Every single relationship that I have ever been in has ended the same way. Let me paint you a picture.
This is what goes on in the mind of whomever I am dating:
Wow...she is gorgeous, smart, funny, considerate, loving, everyone including ME, loves her.....but I'm bored. What I thought was cute, is just boring. I need more. I want more. Not more of her, but more of something. But....if I leave her, everyone including MYSELF is going to think I have lost my everloving mind...what is wrong with me?? How can I let her go?
This is what that level of thought turns into: (some real things told to me)
You deserve better than me.
We are in a rut.
I don't know what's wrong with me.
I'm sorry.
She is just my best friend.
She is just like you.
You would like her.
You are my best friend.
It is only a matter of time before I am left on the side of the road. I am to the point when I can see it coming. I don't know what's worse. Seeing the car before it mows you down or being distracted until it is too late.
Damn it. I love too hard. I swear, I just don't know what to do, when to do it, why to do it.
I have a friend who thinks that I should just be a swinging single, like the blond chick on Sex In the City. I don't remember her character name, and no, I don't feel like looking it up. Her real name is Kim. Then others feel like I should be the brunette...you know happily married with a baby (duh, like I don't have two). Too bad I feel like the love child of the angry red headed real life lesbian and the harebrained Sarah who is married to Ferris Bueller.
You know what I want to say? I want to say, Fuck It.
What I am tired of saying is, Why? Why? Why?
My typical knee jerk reaction is a haircut, which is now on the agenda for tomorrow.
How can I put people in ruts when I make quickfire decisions like a severe haircut?
Readers? Is anyone listening (reading)? A few of you are my real time in my face friends, so you know. You know so much. Do you know that I feel like you must be tired of me? I am tired of me too, you are not alone.
I stay giving advice. Funny.
Last thought:
Lola on Strength
When it comes to strength, I mean emotional strength...I get that a lot. Be strong. You can do it. Don't be so emotional.
Uh yeah. Do you even know what it takes to be strong? Do you know why I look like I break down so haphazardly? Ask any Piscean. I. TAKE. ON. EVERY. PROBLEM.
Your relationship falls apart? I feel it.
You loss your wallet/job/iphone? I feel it.
Your kid/spouse/best friend dicks you over? I feel it.
Your favorite sock was lost in the wash? I feel it.
EVERY. SINGLE. THING. THAT. HAPPENS. I. FEEL. IT.
By the time my own shit comes up, I have felt your shit so hard, that I implode. I have no space for my own shit, because I absorb everyone else's shit.
How shitty is that?
However, don't stop sharing with me, because then I will feel neglected.
You don't need me?? Whhhhhhy???
Got it? Right. Crazy McCray Cray. I wouldn't date/love/marry/breed with me.
I am a train wreck.
A simple start,
Lola
I am so frustrated. I am frustrated because once again I find myself in a similar situation. When will I learn? It is useless to share the situation with you, because I have realized that it is not the situation, it is my handling of it.
Lola on Happiness
What is happiness? What makes you happy and what does it feel like, look like, taste like? I am afraid that I have forgotten what it truly feels like for me. Listen, one of the one things that I forgot and I will not get back is the sound of my Grandma's voice. I never thought I would forget that and the day that I did, it was a terrible realization. The next major thing that I forgot was the feeling of hunger. I have dieted so much, disguised for myself my true feelings so much, that I now do not know when I am actually hungry. Do you know how I know? When I am lightheaded. That is crazy. I am afraid I have forgotten happiness. How do I know if I am truly happy or just not sad? The opposite of happy can be many different emotions: sad, angry, depressed, moody...I mean, which is it? Why do I need to know? Why can't I just know? My inability to know what truly is happy is ruining every relationship that I am involved in.
See. This is why I can't blog under too much stress. I have so many plates spinning in the air right now. Real Housewives of NJ are on...I have downed 12ozs of Moscato, I am....overly distracted and annoyed.
I should not be annoyed. I went for a mani and pedi today...I don't know.
I don't know what it will take to make me happy. I remember vaguely the feeling, but lately I am just sabotaging everything. I know why. Clearly there is a piece of me who believes that I don't deserve more. My internal struggle with myself is spilling all over my external. It is not pretty.
It is not sexy.
It is not funny.
It is not what anyone (especially me) wants.
I am one by one excluding myself from healthy relationships because I am falling back into the same rut.
The same rut that is hindering my whole life.
Lola on Marriage
I steady say that I don't want to marry. What a crock of shit. I want a ring. I want a dress, a veil, a party, someone who just wants me. I want someone who's day does not begin until they set eyes on me.
Is that going to happen? OF COURSE NOT. I will tell you why:
I am 36yo mother of two teens.
I have just started a brand new career.
I am still trying to finish grad school.
I am too nice.
Ok, the first three make sense. Who wants someone on the journey to 40? No one.
Let me explain the nice part. Every single relationship that I have ever been in has ended the same way. Let me paint you a picture.
This is what goes on in the mind of whomever I am dating:
Wow...she is gorgeous, smart, funny, considerate, loving, everyone including ME, loves her.....but I'm bored. What I thought was cute, is just boring. I need more. I want more. Not more of her, but more of something. But....if I leave her, everyone including MYSELF is going to think I have lost my everloving mind...what is wrong with me?? How can I let her go?
This is what that level of thought turns into: (some real things told to me)
You deserve better than me.
We are in a rut.
I don't know what's wrong with me.
I'm sorry.
She is just my best friend.
She is just like you.
You would like her.
You are my best friend.
It is only a matter of time before I am left on the side of the road. I am to the point when I can see it coming. I don't know what's worse. Seeing the car before it mows you down or being distracted until it is too late.
Damn it. I love too hard. I swear, I just don't know what to do, when to do it, why to do it.
I have a friend who thinks that I should just be a swinging single, like the blond chick on Sex In the City. I don't remember her character name, and no, I don't feel like looking it up. Her real name is Kim. Then others feel like I should be the brunette...you know happily married with a baby (duh, like I don't have two). Too bad I feel like the love child of the angry red headed real life lesbian and the harebrained Sarah who is married to Ferris Bueller.
You know what I want to say? I want to say, Fuck It.
What I am tired of saying is, Why? Why? Why?
My typical knee jerk reaction is a haircut, which is now on the agenda for tomorrow.
How can I put people in ruts when I make quickfire decisions like a severe haircut?
Readers? Is anyone listening (reading)? A few of you are my real time in my face friends, so you know. You know so much. Do you know that I feel like you must be tired of me? I am tired of me too, you are not alone.
I stay giving advice. Funny.
Last thought:
Lola on Strength
When it comes to strength, I mean emotional strength...I get that a lot. Be strong. You can do it. Don't be so emotional.
Uh yeah. Do you even know what it takes to be strong? Do you know why I look like I break down so haphazardly? Ask any Piscean. I. TAKE. ON. EVERY. PROBLEM.
Your relationship falls apart? I feel it.
You loss your wallet/job/iphone? I feel it.
Your kid/spouse/best friend dicks you over? I feel it.
Your favorite sock was lost in the wash? I feel it.
EVERY. SINGLE. THING. THAT. HAPPENS. I. FEEL. IT.
By the time my own shit comes up, I have felt your shit so hard, that I implode. I have no space for my own shit, because I absorb everyone else's shit.
How shitty is that?
However, don't stop sharing with me, because then I will feel neglected.
You don't need me?? Whhhhhhy???
Got it? Right. Crazy McCray Cray. I wouldn't date/love/marry/breed with me.
I am a train wreck.
A simple start,
Lola
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