Update! RDCV

Sometimes it’s just like that… one day you are entering the 300th invoice of the day for the crazy lady who thinks you suck because you didn’t enter 301 and you wonder what you did to karma. Then you realize you are smarter, more capable and oh yeah, way better looking than she is, thus you threaten her. Time to roll bitches! So you do. Possibly landing face first onto the asphlat (I will neither confirm nor deny how many times). So… dusty dusty shaky shaky and rolling forward. I landed myself a new career. And gusdammit if I’m not pretty good at it to boot.

On the days when I am not herding cats I’m pretty sure I am actually just the ringmaster of the shitshow. (No that isn’t mine… thanks BlueQ!) I ended up stumbling my way into what may the most misogynistic industry ever… Okay, maybe not the most, but for sure top 5 or 3, yeah 3. I would say commercial fishing or oil-rigs have fewer women, but I can’t think of many industries less welcoming to women than trucking, yet here I am. Not that it’s been all shits and giggles. (See what I did there?? You missed me you know you did!)

I started at what I thought was the worst place ever. Not the job, the dude. An under-cover woman hater. Boy-next-door good looks, all-american with the wife and volleyball team of crotch-fruit. Can’t be bad right? He hired me and I’m a loud opinionated bitch! Oh wait, not always… loud. So I endured that because the work was fun. It was a lot like babysitting and being a big sister and playing tetris. Only with big-ass men and 53′ trucks loaded at 40 tons. Plus there was some juicy shit happening with the wife and the bff. Popcorn worthy. Then one day I find myself sold off like so much cargo. He sold the trucks and threw in the humans too. So not the worst place ever… it was about to get worse real quick like.

There I was in my new work nightmare home with my new work overlords family. I am going to skip this for another time because frankly I could spend hours on it. New boss man made boy next door look like a girl. He didn’t hide his contempt for me and the fact that I had ‘no place in trucking’. It didn’t matter that I was bringing in new customers on reputation or making insane margins. All that mattered was what was missing between my legs. Oh well, his loss. Within an hour of leaving the office that last day I had 4 job offers from customers. And I’ve made it my passion to contact all the customers I had and offer them service at better rates than they had before. Because newsflash motherfucker… they are too big to fit between my legs, I have to strap them to my chest.

In the end I pushed past all that shit and end-rounded the stereo types. I escaped the super sexist assholes at the places I worked- where I went from an under-cover, nice to your face, guy next door misogynist… to an overt, balls-out -or you lack the proper equipment to play in my sandbox- women hater. But now… Life is amazing. I have a bad-ass bitch of a boss (she’s not even a bitch at all… more of a dick really. Again, another post entirely.) and an epic owner who wants me to succeed. So I am.

It’s All About Me

It seems lately I don’t want to do much of anything. Obviously I haven’t been writing, or I wouldn’t have that awful lag time between this and my last post. And that old adage that depression breeds creativity may have been real at one point but right now it feels like bullshit. Right now I want to create… a nest of blankets and take a nap. I want to go to sleep and catch up on what feels like 3 years of deprivation. I want to create a mind that doesn’t feel the stress and frustration of actual adulting. I want to create a bridge between how I used to create and now, so I can go back and drag its ass to the present.

Sitting down to write used to be fun. I wanted to spend more time at the keys than most other things. I thought of shit to say all the time. And I didn’t give a shit about who read it. If I was talking about you, oh well. You probably earned it. Chances are you earned worse than what I said, but I was being kind-ish. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch but its relative. Then people sorted out who I really was. In my actual life. My anonymous outlet ceased to be an outlet but a chore. It became an exercise in ways to disguise my truth. I don’t want to disguise my truth.

My truth isn’t always kind. My truth is that I get legitimately hurt by people in my life and my efforts to sort that out include writing about how painful it is. If seeing your actions hurts, maybe you shouldn’t take those actions. My truth is sometimes judgmental because as much as we try, sometimes we are judgmental. Sometimes its okay and sometimes its not. But its my truth. I am okay with it. Because sometimes I learn when I bear it.

So I don’t want to shroud my truth in bullshit. If you can’t read it, then don’t. I am not going to apologize for my truth. No, I am not going to start calling out names and using places and telling people where I live. But if you already know, fine. Suck it up and understand that sometimes it is about you. Sometimes it is not. Either way, this is my truth.