this is not about you

If you build it, they will come….
If you sit and stare at it, words will appear…

That should work right? Okay lack of words is not the problem, it’s too many swirling in my head and not really knowing how to string them together in some coherent way that someone other than myself may want to read. Then again, is that the point? Well, it seems it’s become the point and that may be my issue. I seem to have lost that abandon with which I used to approach my writing. Back then I would sit at some random place with some random beer and write (yes with a pen) the skeleton of what would become my next blog. I continued writing merrily when the pen gave way to the portability of a 15# brick of a laptop. During the brick era is when I found I had readers. I panicked a little (someone reads my shit???) but trudged on affording protection to the guilty, only because I myself wished to remain anonymous. And then all shit hit the fan. I found out family read my shit. Maybe not regularly, maybe not even often, but they did.

well fuck.
The words in my head ceased to allow themselves out through my fingers. And before you say at least had a journal… uh no, the words weren’t hap-nin there either.

well fuck.
Periodically I’d be inspired by something and sorta safe writing would happen. I’d even had a brief reprieve from the verbal constipation while I changed up all my psych meds and had no filter (not a chance bitches, don’t even think it… you shut your pie hole or I will cut you). And on occasion I can still tap into that filter-less freedom. But not often.

Do you realize that when you write a blog it is basically a journal to which you’ve given the world a key. Like it or not anyone… that’s EH-KNEE-ONE can stumble upon your shit or troll for your shit if they really want. Even the most careful person leaves behind crumbs that someone could follow (note you’ve never seen my face and I’ve never said anyone’s name. And no, my parents were not angry activists or suffering from a trauma leaving their tongues partially paralyzed causing them to think hey… sars is a good name for a girl.). So when you start venting about your sister-cousin and her giant goiter… if she can operate her nubbin, she can read your shit. And when you got pissed because you had to lance mama’s boil for the sixth time because she didn’t want the hawt young Dr. Thibodaux to see she’d put on “some weight”… If she can get uncle LeRoy to show her how to find “Dr. Oz on the computer thang”, she can read your shit. Thus I filter. Though I have no sister-cousin or Uncle LeRoy, I do have this ‘I’m not catholic’ “Catholic Guilt” that plagues me. It tells me if I write about my mom or sister or a friend in a not so glowing light, they will read it and be offended. (They probably just felt me type that and will know they have to check my blog) I could just be good ‘ol fashioned venting, but they’ll never know and think it’s something different. And since my anonymity is shot there – my family and friends know who I am… ugh.

So I filter.
well fuck.
At this moment I have a head full of things ready to tumble out but I filter. BUTT… (that was a big butt for those still playing) I have things to say. Things I want, need to say.

I have touched on having a behavioral health disorder (the preferred term around here – I honestly don’t give a fuck what you call it, as long as after you find out you still call me friend) that has been “classified” Bipolar II (and even then, that is a label more for insurance than me). Basically (the super dumb version) is depression with periods of “hypomania” or not quite mania. For me this is linked to anxiety. (yay!) This is a tough topic to broach sometimes as there are those that don’t understand because its all “psycho-babble mumbo jumbo”. And when writing, I don’t preface with: ‘Warning this blog contains bipolar content or mom look away, I’m talkin’ about being fucking nutter right now!’ However, it gets across in a roundabout way sorta. Because I filter the fuck out of things when I am cycling instead of embracing the moment and letting my filter go. According to my besties, I am my funniest, do my best writing when I am anxious. Lots of jokes get made about being bipolar – I make jokes about being a Gemini and bipolar, but the reality is I got off easy because mania is a bitch. I will cut my tangent short here and save it for a depressed day.

Basically what I’m saying is my filter is clogged and I don’t want to pressure wash it. As Zimm said, I’d have to wring it out because you can’t stick that shit in the dryer it won’t fit anymore! So, I’m just gonna leave it at the curb. Let the er Engineers take it with them along with all the other waste. Filter-less writing is better writing.

Sometimes it’s just like that… you have to apologize in advance to the people you love because your intent is not to hurt their feelings. But you just need to say what you need to say, even though you have made clear before “if you don’t like it, don’t read my shit”. This time – it’s a pointed warning. So here it is, and you may never see it again:


~posted from my tablet thingy~



the doodle effect

So my first post of 2012 isn’t your typical first, but then again none of my firsts ever really have been. This isn’t a post full of resolutions, probably because I don’t make those. Really… who wants to spend a month trying to convince yourself to do shit, nine months in forgetful bliss (save the occasional asshat that reminds you of those extra 15 whatever’s), a month justifying to yourself and the world why you didn’t quite see your plans to fruition, and another month deciding how to tweak that shit so its easier to do next year. All in hopes of avoiding the inevitable failure hangover that happens just before new year. You know, that moment when you wake in a drunken haze resolving never to do that shit again… after you read all your sent texts and piece together what it is you are resolving not to do. Why put myself through all that shit? I decided years ago… ‘not gun doo-it’ (says with pursed lipped smile). Instead I opt for the ‘rules to live by’ approach. And… I keep it simple, I only have two rules. Now, there are many things that I have learned over the years that I try to remember when shit hits the fan, but really there are only two rules and no resolutions necessary.

1. Have respect for yourself.

Makes sense to me. Its a building block to becoming a good person and everyone I associate myself with wants that. I am consistently shocked by the number of people who don’t have any concept of self-respect. And please, don’t confuse self-respect with self-esteem. I know people who treat their bodies and minds with the utmost respect but lack the self-esteem to to open a jar for fear they’ll offend it. Self-respect is treating yourself correctly, like the amazing human being you are. We all fuck up. But when we do, having respect for ones self means knowing that it was a mistake, it is ultimately fixable. Even if its really bad, and I’ve done really bad. Respecting yourself doesn’t guarantee you get the outcome you thought you wanted, but it does mean you understand you are human and you fucking rule. You will continue moving forward, owning your shit… smellin like roses or not.

2. Have respect for others.

Once again, makes sense to me! I grew up with respect your elders rule in place and there was no questioning that rule. Now as an adult I’ve learned to recognize for myself whether or not an elder keeps my respect, or anyone for that matter, but everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt until you find out otherwise. The woman living in subsidized housing that has a nice car, while you drive a pile o’ shite, may not be milking the system like you think. She could be a single mother who is raising a son with a very rare disease. So that nice car was her whole family’s way of saying ‘we want to make sure you have a reliable way to get you kid where he needs to go’. The opposite is true as well, to be sure, but who are we to judge? Who are we to treat someone with disrespect when we know nothing of them? This seems like a pretty simple concept, respect others, but there are so many that have no clue. Respecting others is part of being a grown up and something to teach those whose small minds we have been charged with shaping.

As luck would have it, respect for others goes hand-in-hand with respect for yourself. In learning to treat yourself with respect, you will be more apt to treat others in kind. (funny -slaps forehead- makes perfect fucking sense to me) Sadly these are learned by observation then practice. You can’t find them in a book and you can’t purchase them with any amount of money and you can’t give them or have them given to you as a gift. So rather than resolving to spend my 2012 on a quest to better my body, or drink more water, or be a better friend, or say something nice every day, or write more, or whatever… I will continue moving forward learning each day to treat myself with respect and have respect for others. In reality don’t all the things we resolve fall into one of those categories anyway?

On a side note, if you asked my nephew what my rules are, he would tell you with out hesitation: respect myself and respect others. (he would probably roll his eyes) But he would also say “and don’t bleed on her watch, she’ll have a bad day”. I have no bloody watches.


You are overwhelmed, tired, feeling like the walls are closing in and all you want to do is go… go for a drive and have time to think… Listen to music, angry, soft, loud, emotive, piercing, any music to calm the mindPod… but no. Your keys are in your hand. Your tank is full (well, sorta, you never can tell since you tend to run out when the gauge reads in the neighborhood of half tank), you have a little cash for snacks and a plan, or rather non-plan, but that is the plan, but no. None of it matters, you are fucking stuck. You can’t just go. Can’t go to your favorite breakfast place to read a book and people watch. Can’t just drive and sing loudly to the same song over and over because it is what you feel right that moment. Can’t spend the day hiking along the bluffs or go kidnap your best friend to get lunch somewhere he’s never been.You no longer have that option.

Sometimes its just like that…. you sit. With your head in your hands. You sit with your head in your hands because no matter how many reasons you can find to blame someone else, the choice that brought you to this place was yours. You put yourself on this stoop with your keys in your hand next to a vehicle that is completely unsafe to take more than 15 miles without AAA and telling everyone you care for where you’re going and which route you’re taking. You made a poor choice and it was not the first time, its just visible to more people than the rest have been.

Sometimes its just like that… the ripples in your pond- the decisions you’ve made, those choices you have found ways to put band-aids on and share blame with others; or pawn off on them completely, or better yet, decisions you’ve chosen to ignore all together…. those are making the ripples in your pond. They have started to clash into each other and make bigger ripples and even waves at this point. So much so that you can’t ignore the ripples and you can see those fucking waves from your stoop. The truth is reflecting back in a way that is certainly not as pretty as it was from the glassy pond…. but reality, you threw those fucking rocks, help or no, they left your hands before hitting the water. River rocks, giant stones, small pebbles, chunks of concrete, tar from the road… they all came from you and you have to feel the effect. You are responsible for the fact that all water sports have been suspended until further notice.

It’s time to to calm the water and bring it back to a glassy pond. Time to find the bluff that lets you look down at your reflection and forgive yourself because try as hard as you like… you can’t jump in and pull out what you threw in. You can’t undo the past. You can only forgive yourself and realize it will take work to calm the waters, to trust yourself to hold a skipping stone. It will take time to find the calm and face your reflection once more.

Sometimes… its like that… you must climb to the top of the bluff to find forgiveness. It is difficult and steep.  It’s taken a long time to even get here… you’ve stopped a few times (even threw another pebble or two). But you are here now. The top of the bluff is within your reach. When you get there and see your reflection clear from the peace forgiveness brings, bring back the water sports… jump off the bluff on a sunny day, into the glassy water and make a new kind of ripple.


So in browsing my comments, and all the other comments and shit I’m struggling to keep up with now that I follow so freakin many blogs, I saw a comment on “Monday Listicles”. I, being the mature woman that I am, did laugh and say ‘ppffftt….listicles….ha!” Wait, that must’ve someone else. ; ) No, I checked out what peeps were commenting on and there ya have it. Every Monday, new list. Sounds fun to me since copying conversations is difficult for me and the ones that can be safely shown to ye of puritanical mind you bitches are pretty much twitfodder. Anyhow, I decided what the hell… So I hop on over to where it all starts and think to myself… aw shit…. Well I picked a fanfuckingtastic week to start…

This week: the 10 things I hope for this christmas. Wow… This may prove a lofty task, seein’ as I don’t give much credence to the whole magic babies gettin yanked out a hoo-ha that’s never even had a bob or a well.. whatever, to give ‘er a lil stretch theory. Then this magic baby came out all perfect (of course) and and glowing and didn’t get tetnus or mad cow or whooping cough or even the croup from sleeping in a nasty food trough with half eaten hay for padding…. Oh, in musty shit filled, stank ass barn. And bythe-by who gives babies gold and perfume… on a camel? Those fuckers spit. Anyhow… Then there’s the super-stealth-ultrasonic-be-everywhere-at-once red rocket-sled that can haul a metric shit tons of toy and a giant fat dude packin enough alice-in-wonderland potion to get him in and out of every house in the world (chimney or not) with a kid in it……… I’m thinkin this could be tough for anyone, (that’s gotta burn some fierce calories!) but really? morbidly obese super hairy dude? with little people as his only help? (I know you’re thinkin it, its okay but be nice).

I think my aversion started mostly because every year my mom and sister ask me for a list. My sister usually asks me sometime in October because hers is ready and nothing on it is priced for adult sibling gift exchanging. Its usually made up of shit you should buy for yourself when you are an adult in your thirties, with a family and two stable incomes… but you know… gotta have priorities people. Oh! Its to make sure I know how much my doodle’s shit (I say shit because how many 3Ds’ does 1 child need?!?) is gonna cost… so you know I can get him a gift certificate to the proper giant chain store. And every year they get the same list from me: please, I don’t need anything. If you must have a list, I’d like to get together for Sunday for brunch. (I love a good eggs bene) It doesn’t go over well, but I don’t really care anymore. So to come up with my own list. I had to do some tweeking… But without further adieu here is my version of a 10 things I hope for this christmas list:

10 this I hope for in the Winter Solstice Season:

1. That I will actually get to spend time in the mountains this season and enjoy some of the amazing things you can only see when surrounded by a sea of white snow and the smell of fire places.
2. That the friendships I have made via the interwebs will continue and we will encourage each other to become better writers.
3. That I will improve myself as a human in a way that is marked and noticeable to others and not just myself…. Not because I seek attention or praise, but because I made a difference somehow or to someone.
4. That my brother will find someone… to share his music with.
5. That my my little pink car will slow the fuck down and allow me to rest (and that my blingy rose colored glasses will be found).
6. That I will learn to forgive myself for the bad decisions of the past, so the rippling can calm and I can find a still place to start changing the course from here.
7. That those I love and care for will know that unconditionally is the only way I know how… and that even if its been a while, still holds true.
8. That I treat others as I want to be treated and remember that it is my job to be the human I want others to be.
9. That my best friend will find a place of peace, if only for a moment… so he can know what that’s like and build from that place.
10. and of course…… to improve my shoe collection…

I probably won’t post this over on the “Listicles” but maybe next time the list will be a little more non-snarkster mom friendly.


singing man

This week, well the last two, have been about as much as I can take on this ride. But its fortunate I have a vast collection of music to shuffle through my mindPod (and actual shite too if you must know… between the collections is about two solid months of non stop tuneage) and I happened to land on Austin Lucas. Ahhh Austin Lucas. Not a well known musician, though he should be. And today, he is my hero. His style may not be for all but he was exactly what I needed. Most specifically his song Singing Man.

The past few weeks have been that of feeling weak and inadequate. Regardless  of what anyone said or did I wasn’t going to get it. That is the nature of the little car that whirrs me round. But when its quiet and I can’t hear anything I tap my dbase of songs and here it is… Austin Lucas. So today was my dad’s birthday (dude! 69 – he’s gonna throw that around all year because he’s dirty… GROSS!). I hate family events for more reasons than I can tell you today but the short version is because my sister somehow  – with her super powers (do you get those during child birth? if so I may have to rethink shit) – flip-floped me in the line of birth order and is now the oldest instead of youngest and has a complete vulcan mind-meld hold over my mother. I think its because she is married and has a child and I myself have neither, in fact I do not want child and I am divorced, thus I am broken. so there’s that… So I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t. I know I disappointed my bro, and I hate that. But to be fair I was unwell on Sunday but, it was made all the worse by my anxiety. I felt well…. weak and small and like I mattered little. My solution was to say hey, I’ll come over on his actual birthday! So the last three days I kept hearing the words…

‘I had followed her on
Until breathlessly she said
Here’s my hand, won’t you take it, won’t you?
You are not weak
And not small
In my eyes you are mighty’

I realized its only in my own eyes that I am weak and small. I may not be the singin man but I cause my own shit storm sometimes. I need to realize she is the youngest, I am the oldest, I am not weak and not small but rather a person who is mighty…


this is just him which to me is more pure, because if you are struggling within – you don’t hear harmony. I sing and I don’t hear harmony. Though the link above has the harmony’s with the female voice (who I’m ashamed to say I don’t know).



Thanks Austin, needed you this week and thanks for the tweet…


WoW: Exercise 22 – Select a piece of music that reflects the mood of writing you’d like to aim for. Press play. Start free writing. Write the first words that come into your head. When the music’s over, so is the writing. I’d recommend finding out how long the song is before you start the exercise. You may feel cheated in your writing time if you pick a song by The Ramones. Of course, if you feel like writing a short, punky piece by all means, go for it!


I was asked “What do you look forward to?” ……………  yeah, I couldn’t answer. It wasn’t that I’m unhappy, I can honestly say I am, for perhaps the first time in a long time. But what do I look forward to? What am I passionate about? All I can ever answer is people and I don’t think that is the answer she was waiting for. I think she was waiting for me to tell her about some up-coming trip (nothing on the books) or my hobby (other than the sporadic rush of verbiage onto screen, I don’t really have much there that is consistent) or some event and I just couldn’t produce.

So there I was, trying to decide whether to cry into my potato juice or eat a pound of bacon. And sometimes its just like that… you are rolling along through the mundane day to day life and someone re-posts a something that thousands of others already have and wham! you are hit in the head like a shit-brickhouse. Your motto for life- that may or may not have served you well- has ceased to exist. So there you are now given a new credo from which to operate. Welcome to my world. That was me ten days ago when someone posted the manifesto from a clothing company in my google+ stream (…. yes I have google+………. and facebook……. and twitter…… I think I have a small problem but I have not gotten to the cyber-stalking-taken-over-my-life-I-post-pics-of-my-food stage so I think I’m good.) anyway, there I was looking at a bunch of food pictures from a friend’s vacation and in the middle of his fish something or other and some cemetery, was the key to things, the cypher so-to-speak. So I adopted all but a couple lines and have decided to make it mine. A mission statement of sorts…

This is your LIFE.
Do what you LOVE, and do it often.
If you don’t like something, change it.
If you don’t like your job, quit.
If you don’t have enough time, stop watching TV.
If you are looking for the LOVE of your LIFE, stop;
They will be waiting for you when you
start doing the things you LOVE.
Stop over analyzing, LIFE is simple.
All emotions are beautiful.
Open your mind, arms, and HEART to new things
and people, we are united in our differences.
Travel often; getting lost will help you find yourself.
Some opportunities only come once, seize them.
LIFE is aout the people you meet, and
the things you create with them
so go out and start creating.
LIFE is short.
LIVE your dream.

Right?!? I find it amazing how a few lines can be so clear and simple and give a renewed sense of forward momentum to what was starting to feel like a stagnant life. I think I can use this to propel me forward to find what I’m “looking forward to”. Life IS short. This is evidenced everyday. I do need to stop over analyzing and remember that emotions are beautiful even when they are complex and I don’t understand them. There are things I don’t like and I am the only one that can change them. No one else can fix my shit and no one else should (how will I learn anything?). I am creative and able to start creating.

This is my LIFE. It is viral and moving forward.

thank you holstee company


Being in the middle is hard sometimes. You aren’t the good one and you aren’t the bad one just the one who usually fucks up, even if you didn’t. Sometimes you aren’t the middle one at all you just ended up there by default because the oldest and youngest got flipped around by an error in the programmer’s code, but no one notices because they can’t read html. Regardless of how you got there, its the middle and you are no longer the apple of daddy’s eye or mommy’s best girl. You just are. Whatever fuck up comes along that you get yourself into, fall into or happen to be passing by as it hits the fan and lands on you may go un-noticed by everyone but you.None the less, there it is, noticed. Being in the middle is hard sometimes. It means that you have to hold up both ends of the weight and burn both ends of the candle to figure out which way you are supposed to face.

Then sometimes, it means dropping both sticks and blowing out the candles ends in favor of walking forward in the dark, listening to the sound of your breath, remembering that you don’t have to be stuck in the middle you just have to be you. Sometimes you can just close your eyes and sway gently to the dreamers song that is your memory of you, who you are and see that light that still exists where you thought it was dark. Being in the middle is hard sometimes because you forget that it isn’t a role… its a place. its a place you can leave if you choose and become the top and bottom… just yourself.

like the corner of my mind

Today while catching up on all the blogs I’m behind on, I popped over to Mr. Condescending’s blog where I am usually bombarded with sarcasm, mean wit and or course condescension. I did not get this today. I got an interesting tale of love and the loss of his estranged grandmother. I have been pondering this all day. I usually have some sarcastic humor or some sort of post where I am ranting about whatever. To be sure I have some of those started, but not for tonight.

My own grandmother sits in Florida (okay to be fair sits is probably pushing it, lies painfully is probably a better way to say it) awaiting the direction the next butcher,I mean doctor will take her. I would not call us estranged, but we’ve not been the closest. She and I had our moments this past summer and I’m at peace with that. As I read Mr C’s blog I felt his pain. I’m good at the empathy. But a smile came because I knew that I wouldn’t struggle with that same thing. I may be distant from a few that I love, but never so far that they are beyond my reach.  I keep my friends and family close to my heart.

I was fortunate enough to be around for my Grandfather and my other Grandmother passing along. Both gave me thing I carry to this day… the ability to play blackjack, a penchant for men that work with their hands, the best pie dough ever (that was my grandfather) and southern fried chicken to die for. And both taught me the value of life and caring for others above yourself… keep your friends close to your heart. I have always had this mantra, of sorts, and over the past 18 months I have found it to ring true… When I find myself fading, I close my eyes and realize, my friends are my energy. It is those we love that sustain us, keep us up when we are so low we feel the heat from the earths core singeing our toes. Keep them close and when you fear you are losing your grip… hold tighter. They will fill you with energy, remind you of beautiful things, and when its your turn… remember