A new 365 Challenge...

Been awhile.  Not surprising.  Not really sure what has been up with me lately.  I do know one thing for sure, I'm not a very good Blogger,  LOL.  I'm also horribly inconsistent and can't seem to stay on track with anything... judging by the stopped and started projects, weight loss ambitions, etc.  I've spent the last week in Navarre, Florida.  It's hot.  This body is not meant to be seen in bathing suits, shorts or other summer attire.  Years of living in Alaska have made me the Queen of hiding my body and the more I hid it... the more it grew.  And grew.  And grew.  Here, EVERYONE puts it all out there, the young, the old, the skinny and the not so skinny...

So here is the picture that changes everything.  I don't recognize myself in this picture at all.  It's not even the worst picture as far as how large I've become.  It's my face.  It's all bloaty and swollen.  Who is that?

 

It sure as heck doesn't look like  me.  I thought I looked AWESOME when I left the house... I mean, sure, I'm bigger than I've ever been, but it's not like that should define me right?  BUT OMG.  I keep coming to it and looking for myself and I don't see me.  

So, yeah - starting a weight loss thing again.  But slowly - and first is a 365 challenge... to walk at least 30 minutes a day (or average it out across a week)  

I was going to wait until I went home to begin, as I'm still on vacation...but it seems like I'm always waiting for the perfect time and it never really comes.  So why not start today I thought to myself.   

First walk down today.  1.74 miles at about 21 minute miles.  I was out for roughly 36 minutes.  Not a bad start since it was 90+ degrees.  Right?

This new thing...

OK, so its' been awhile since I've truly been excited about anything, or really felt like I had anything interesting to write about... and that's all changed int he last few weeks.  One - I'm employed!  Yeah! Working on the North Slope of Alaska, Prudoe Bay, Deadhorse... New sites everyday.  New work challenges and new people.  Yeah!  Also, my new schedule revolves around working three weeks on and three weeks off... and I'm making as much as I did when I was working crazy hours with PTP and on call all the time... Seriously... YEAH!  Second... and sort of tied to it and sort of not... How do you live, pack, etc for three weeks?  And have everything you need?  And if I can live on this minimum for three weeks... then why is my house so cluttered?  So, new thing I'm trying out..

"The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up"  It's a book about de-cluttering. Forever.  Getting your house in order.  Keeping ONLY the things you love and spark JOY in you.  (or at least find really, really useful) I have a few days before I go back  home and start... but I am literally giddy with excitement.  I honestly feel like I'm turning the corner and heading in a new direction...

Going grey...

Nothing here. Move along. Just a woman getting older. I'm doing it. I'm letting my hair go grey. I'm breaking my fear of a few streaks of grey and have stopped dying my hair. I will no longer be a slave to my colorist. My daughter can snark away. But I don't ever want to be that woman with the skink streak because she missed her last hair appointment. Or the 70 year old with jet black hair. I am going to grow old gracefully dammit. I am going to get healthy once and for all and people are going to look at me and be like WOW. I feel like I wasted a good chunk of my youth... let me not do it with my middle age.

Your Story:Original Drawing #1920-Boxed Book Set

Your Story:Original Drawing #1920-Boxed Book Set

You don't have to be a bundle of contradictions to be a woman, she said. But we all agreed it helps.

Depression or Hormones?

OK, I think I'm ready to admit it.  I've been depressed.  It's affected my work, my efficacy and joy at being a parent, and is making me kind of a buzz kill.  I haven't written forever because I've been lost in this sea of Netflix Marathons and endless hours of cruising through Facebook posts and Pinterest pins.  I've become a consumer of media and not a creator of it, and that has me feeling really sad.  And pissy.  I'm always crabby, I feel put upon at the slightest request, I'm being intensely selfish and it's not good for me or for the people around me.

The Universe always sends you messages when you are ready to hear them.  Today, the messages I received were this.  I'm unhappy because I'm settling.  I've settled for mediocrity and a pay check and I'm not being authentic.  Now 1/4 of  that pay check may disappear because I've not been myself and I'm missing deadlines and because I just basically told the other 3/4 of my paycheck to go to hell by quitting my largest account.

I need a big change.  But I need to be employed to survive.  There are so many decisions I need to be making and I've done nothing but practice avoidance. I take three hour naps.  I distract myself with... all sorts of things, social media, the endless offerings of bland TV shows and bad movies that can be streamed, booze, food, social situations with people I no longer find interesting or stimulating.  I've isolated myself.  I no longer have friends that I feel I can discuss any of this with... because I'm deeply and profoundly ashamed.  I don't want anyone to know what's going on inside of me and it's making me really uninteresting.

I feel as if I've lost my character.  My joy.  My drive.  I know that there are things I should be doing AND I KEEP ON NOT DOING THEM.  I do the very basics to survive and maintain and Life should be about so much more.  I have an amazing BF that works all the time, doing ACTUAL work, career wise, as well as on himself... he's teaching himself piano.  He starts projects around the house. He exercises regularly.  I really feel as if I'm holding him back.

My family grew recently when he moved in with his two kids.  They are great kids, funny, warm, intelligent.  And I feel like all I do all the time is YELL at them or show my disapproval... I see how it dims their inner a light a bit each time, I see it as I'm doing it to my daughter... and I try and catch myself sometimes with a joke or by distancing myself and just SHUTTING UP.  But then one non perfect aspect rears it's head and off I go.

I need to do something immediate.  I'm thinking about starting off with "natural" depression cures first, over the counter herbs and exercise.  Trying to create a consistent structure for myself and the family.  Trying to react first with warmth, and humor and love and less with anger and sarcasm.  GAH.  Now I actually need to go off and do something as well.

Feminist - Fuck yeah, be one and be proud.

Definition of FEMINISM

1: the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes

2: organized activity on behalf of women's rights and interests

 Dude. That's it. THAT'S all that being a feminist is. Wanting to be treated with the same respect, wanting to be treated the same under the law, wanting to be paid the same amount for the same amount of work, wanting to be given all the same opportunities as our penis bearing brethren do.

That's IT.

I'm in a bad mood. Normally, I go on Pinterest to avoid the heated Facebook conversations like this. Then some woman had to post "Great science Activity for boys" and I was all interested trying to find something cool to share with the BF's son so I wanted to see what makes it a "boy" activity? Anything particularly gross? Weird insects? Disgusting textures and smells? Not that any of that matters to some of the girls (like my own) that I know, but still I was searching for what made it a "boy's" activity. For instance, this blog, I GET.. 10 Cool Science Activities for Boys I mean making fake snot and poop? I can see why most girls wouldn't want to do that. Instead it was some totally generic experiment and for some reason, it TOTALLY PISSED ME OFF. In my mind, the person who posted this apparently thought that cool science was only the domain of BOYS. Well screw you random woman on the internet...the subtle and insidious dumbing down of American women can not be allowed to continue.

I know that "feminists" are labeled as man haters, but I don't hate men. I'm currently in a relationship with one and quite fond of him.  So, tonight's rant will not be about men, it's going to be about WOMEN. Women who apparently hate women. Women, who apparently are ASHAMED of women who stand up for themselves, who expect equal pay for their work, who would like control procreative control over their bodies without giving up sex. Women who train their daughters to be submissive and good house cleaners and teach their son's to be all they can be while being waited on hand and foot. You'll tell your daughters about not doing X, and X and X because of the "dangers" out there... but never once have a conversations with your son about demeaning women or hey, try not to RAPE ANYBODY. They are the ones who start off any sentence that has them standing up for their own damn selves as... "well, it's not like I'm a FEMINIST or anything...BUT... " Dammit woman. It's OK to be a feminist. It's OK to stand up for yourself and expect to be treated with respect. It does not mean you have to go running out the door to toss your bra, lipstick and heels on the nearest bonfire and hook up with another chick and become vegan. How did it become OK for us as a society to refer to ourselves as bitches... but Oh? A Feminist? I'd NEVER be that.

Are you a Stay at home? who decided that the most important job you have is to raise your children? THEN YOU TOO CAN BE A FUCKING FEMINIST by raising your daughters to be proud and strong and your sons to be respectful of women. Give that girl a Tonka trunk, let that boy change the diaper on the baby doll and you are well on your way!

 Do you like to dress up and be pretty and put on lipstick and flirt with attractive men? Guess what? YOU CAN BE A FEMINIST too! There is no rule that says you can't like men, wear push up bras, and not be expected to get paid for the same work you did the day before date night.

 Love your men, love the sons and the husbands and the boyfriends and that really hot guy who mows your lawn without a shirt on. But never allow them to treat you like you are less than. I've discovered that most good men WON'T. I've discovered that even the kind of sketchy ones won't do it unless you've ALLOWED it. Let's all try and be more like Hedy Lamarr, who was fucking gorgeous and BRILLIANT than the hot mess that was poor Marilyn Monroe. UGH, "hot mess" another pet peeve... but that rant will wait til another day.

********** Update****************

I put on my big girl panties and sent off my resume to CH2M Hill.  I feel lighter.  God I  hope this works.  I know I asked for way too much money, but I always feel like I undervalue myself so I get less than what I deserve.  Good Luck to ME!!

Dear Universe:

I need a positive change.  I am so thankful for the wonderful people I have in my life; a brilliant, creative, funny child, a handsome, loving boyfriend, friends and acquaintances who really seem to be there for me when I need them.  I'm in a rut though, and I'm struggling.  I hate where I'm working and that needs to change ASAP.  I'm self sabotaging my body by refusing to get out and give it the exercise it needs.  I get a handle on one part of the house, only to let another fall into near hopeless conditions.  I'm eating healthier, but I'm still drinking too much and combined with the lack of exercise the scale just seems to creep up instead of down on a daily basis.

There is so much potential in me; but somehow, I feel blocked.  I want to be a creator and not exclusively a consumer.  I want to feel passionate about things again.  There are so many cool things out there to explore and do.  Yet, nightly, I return home after a miserable day at work and don't have the energy to do any of it.  I waste my time on FB and Pinterest, looking at all the wonderful things other people do.  Or watch Netflix til late so I can't even get good rest.  Sheesh, I haven't even read a book in ages.  I used to write almost daily.  Now nothing.

I know I have to change.  I know the change needs to come from me.  I know that when those changes take hold things start to happen.  I don't deserve good things to happen to me just because I'm not a bad person. Good things will start to happen when I start to make them happen.  I know I can't manifest change to start tomorrow... but I can make positive steps towards it each day.  I know you have sent possible help that I've ignored and frittered away.  Like why have I STILL not sent my app in the CH2MHill?

If I want a new life, I have to create it.  I have to embrace the good things going on in my life and give them more energy and power.  Not waste my energy and power on the things that don't bring me any joy.

New goal.  I'm going to stop beating myself up over things.  I'm going to try and create something every day. Whether it's creating a nicer space for myself, a drawing, a painting, a blog, plans for the garden ... just one every day for now until it becomes a habit.

Why am I so unmotivated to do the things I need to do?  Is it just that there are too many THINGS to do on a daily basis, or am I just lazy.  I think it's a little bit of both.  I'm mentally, physically and spiritually exhausted and I need to do something about it.

I don't care anymore. Or so I say. (possible future slam poetry thingamabob)

I don't care anymore.  Or so I say.
Which is why I deleted the small diatribe I had written in the comment section after your post on Facebook.  Because I'm cutting back on my swearing and you're a stupid, selfish, self absorbed piece of shit and really, this is Facebook and not a forum for airing out my grievances over your absolute idiocy. And really, I can't possibly let you know how much it hurt me to realize I meant so little and someone else means so much.
Also, my 12 year old daughter might see this on my Timeline.
As might the police. And we can't give them probable cause now, can we?

None of this shit is worth getting worked up over. Or so I say.
Delete Delete that drafted damned Tweet
about the importance of women's rights and how I want my daughter to grow up proud and independent and wise and that this mysogynistic, drivel coming out of your mouth inspires me want to slap the living crap out of you and wonder if you had been hatched? Because no one with a loving mother would ever let such hate out of their mouth.  But I don't want to seem too angry, or without a sense of humor, or that I condone violence.
Besides it wouldn't fit in 140 characters or less anyway.

I don't care anymore.  Or so I say.
So I find myself blogging about my day and the honesty slowly starts to be edited out as I moderate my thoughts and words for the audience that might read it today or the future employer who might randomly Google my name while doing my background check and discover that I once used a stack of Maxipads to clean up the mess I made when I disconnected the pipes under the bathroom sink to unclog a drain and had forgotten to bring a bucket.  What kind of message would that send?
Insert Picture of Cat with Funny Caption here. Thoughts expressed for the day.

None of this shit is worth getting worked up over.  Or so I say
Then I find myself with glass of Bourbon in hand, staring at this blank piece of paper, cool crisp white pages, bound by moleskin and with the just the slightest hint of texture beneath my fingers.  My extra fine, rolling ball, Pilot Precise V5 pen at the ready. And the day starts to write itself before me, in print or the hurried the cursive that tells me it's been an especially trying day and that I have a lot of words to get out before the tears I'm spilling make everything a smudgy mess.  Words I need to express without having anyone judge me, no spell check to tell my I spelled mysogynistic wrong, or that it may, in fact, not even be a real word because  SPELL CHECK WAS OBVIOUSLY INVENTED BY A MAN WHO HATES WOMEN AND APPARENTLY, LABELS.
Also, paper burns and no one has to know.

Just finished reading Jennifer "The Bloggess" book and have to admit it was the funniest thing I've read in awhile.  I actually gave myself an asthma attack while reading one of her stories outloud to my daughter because I was laughing so hard.  Also - NOTHING in that book should have been read out loud to my daughter, or anyone under the age of 21.  But still.  Funny.  It made me really miss my writing.  I don't have any excuse as to why I don't do it anymore.  I have the time.  Maybe it's because I feel I have no life??  *ugh*
But I do.  I have some really great friends and really, it's me that needs to do more of the engaging life.

Another year has come and gone...

Wow - it's been almost a year since I've written anything in here.  I have mixed feelings about it.  I'm really tired of what I perceive to be everyone's incessant and narcissistic attempts to draw attention to themselves. Some of my favorite things to read are blogs, but let's face it - not everyone has the talent to write and I really don't want a blow by blow account of how you woke up, drove the kids to school, did laundry and then spent too much time on Facebook before you picked the kids up from school and made dinner, a carb laden mac and cheese with an over cooked side of wilty veggies that you posted a picture of.  Also, shit happens to all of us - and the occasional blog about bad things happening and how they empowered you to change is awesome, but an unending chain of blog entries about how THIS time everything is going to be different and you really will GETTHEHOUSECLEANLOSEWEIGHTFINISHYOURKNITTINGPROJECTSDECLUTTERTHEGARAGEANDGOVEGAN - I think I'm afraid of falling in to the latter category.  I have started so many projects/diets/goals/crusades that all seem to peter out in an ever shortening amount of time.  I'm afraid to share what I think and feel anymore - because frankly, I think everyone will find it boring and repetitive.  Hell, I find it boring.  I've started at least 15 diets in the last few years, with the result that I am exactly 15 lbs fatter than the last time I swore I WILL NEVER GET THIS FAT AGAIN.  My house is a disaster area.  I can't remember the last time I changed the oil in my car.  My back deck looks like this -

(Yes.  that would be a deck chair and my firepit that I didn't cover or remove before Winter hit.)

I'm pretty sure this is what depression looks like.  On the bright side, I'm up to date on all the Game of Thrones books and the Sookie Stackhouse novels.  And I can Netflix like a motherfucker.  *sigh*

My Birthday is coming up next week and I've decided that I want to do something I've always dreamed of for my Birthday this year.  Something that will give me a sense of accomplishment and maybe open up the door to my dream future.  I want to sign up for a Creative Writing class and attempt to finish my first book for publication by my Birthday next year.  I'm putting it out there in writing hoping that the Universe will help me along in reaching my goal.  Also, I want to start updating my blog more often.  I promise to try and not be tedious.

Life is good.

Wow.  It's been a long time since I've written any thing.  I normally don't go this long without writing, something usually triggers a reaction in me that spurs to me write, and I just haven't felt that way recently.  I wonder if it's because as I get older, fewer things bother me.  My sense of self-righteous indignation is disappearing.  Other people's flaws that used to annoy me and anger me, are now dismissed as quirks. The Twitter and Facebook feeds of the disenchanted, depressed and lovelorn make me shy away from indulging in a good bout of self pity.  I think I've actually learned that whole "Don't sweat the small stuff" lesson.  I've learned that unrequited love is a waste of time and just takes up room in your heart that is better filled with other things.

I'm still fat, I'm still not dating anyone, I'm still struggling to make ends meet - but none of it seems overly important or especially noteworthy. Not sure if this is apathy, or if it's that after taking a really good look around I have come to the conclusion that, well, my life is good! (or,you know, so many other people's lives are REALLY shitty.)

I am truly grateful for where I am in my life right now.  Things aren't perfect, but all the important things are in their place. There is room to grow, of course, but I no longer feel the need to remodel my life and completely change everything. There is no special "man" in my life, but I have tons of precious friends, good wine, and plenty of streaming Netflix episodes of Spartacus; Blood and Sand, to keep me busy.  Added Bonus - I've started working on my art again.  It's an activity I can share with my daughter.  Sharing long Sunday afternoons painting with my daughter gives me WAY better feedback than blogging to the masses about my life's failings.  Yeah, Life really is good.

Hair - Or lack there of. Or too much or whatever.

My daughter was affectionately running her hand up my arm today.  And then she casually mentioned.  "Hey Mom, you totally need to shave your arms." After a brief recollection of why hamsters eat their young, I responded.

I was all, "No one does that honey, it's my arms - they are supposed to have hair."  She picked at a few strands and twirled them.  Then gave me a suspicious look much like she did when I tried to convince her that the  Dora the Explorer bathing suit her grandmother sent her for Christmas was an excellent choice for her 10th Birthday Water Park Party. I began to have my doubts.  When DID they get so hairy? When did she get old enough to NOTICE?  Did social norms change and I not notice? Or have I just been pretty clueless all along?

So I turned to my closest friend, who always has a ready answer.  Twitter.  "My daughter tells me I need to shave my arms. So women DO that?"

And Twitter responded.  Yes.  Apparently most women on Twitter shave off ALL HAIR EVERYWHERE CAUSE IT'S DIRTY.  (Except the blondes, cause it doesn't really show, which apparently doesn't make it dirty, which is when I realized  I knew I hated blondes for more than just stealing every boyfriend I've ever had.  EVAR.)  Apparently it's a very inherent part of grooming and I've missed it.  So, in addition to plucking eyebrows, shaving my legs, paying attention to the errant hairs that seem to pop up here and there along my jaw line, waxing my upper lip, and everything except a strip on my mons veneris (look it up bitches, I shouldn't have to spell it out) I now have a new area to be concerned about. I'm the kind of girl who develops a 5 O'clock shadow on her legs.  This constitutes a huge investment of time. The next time a man complains about having to shave the few inches of skin along his face every day, I may just take a straight razor to his gullet.

"THE FUCK?  Really?" I says to myself, and briefly consider how realistic it would be to just grab some blue tarp (I'm from Alaska, it's EVERYWHERE) cover it in Veet and just kind of roll around in it to make sure every possible inch of my body was covered in  hair remover. While wearing a shower cap of course, cause apparently the only area of my body where I'm Supposed to have long, luxurious hair is my head. (Guess who currently sports a pixie? *sob*)

This seems like way too many chemicals to cover my body with, and I'm terrified of walking into a Spa and telling the Waxing Lady to have at it and have her run screaming from the Building.  So Shaving it is.  With all the exfoliating, moisturizing, and application of sharp metal near delicate places it involves.  I will update you all later.  Maybe.  If I don't end up cutting myself and bleeding to death in the shower.

On Friendship or Hate or whatever...

I recently received an email from an old friend I had a serious falling out with over a year ago. It led to an IM conversation that led to a Facebook invite so I could see some pictures of her kids, which I accepted, so apparently that means we're friends again. Right?  Ugh.  So now I'm sitting here in the dark and thinking really hard on friendships, what they are, what they cost us, and why sometimes despite all the pain they cause, friendships are so worth it, sometimes.

I think that my female friendships have shaped my life more than any of the relationships I've ever had with a man. Maybe because I have 5 very loud and fiery Aunts who controlled the family and two uncles who just kind of hung out in the back ground in a bit of a drunken haze and let the women do what they would.  All of these women were strong and fierce and amazing in their own way.  NONE  of them are what you would call easy going.  Unless you consider riding bareback at full speed across uneven terrain easy going.

I've had those and some other amazing women come and go through my life, but lots of them have done really hurtful things to me,  and I have to admit I've often done the same.  Sometimes it was done with intent, sometimes not.  But wow, the horrible things that friends put each other through.  But some of those very same people have done wonderful things that bring tears to my eyes just thinking about it.  PUT OUT THE BAT SIGNAL CHIEF, THIS GIRL NEEDS HELP.  And in they swoop and swarm, with warm and patient words, and big bottles of wine, and bigger bottles of Vodka, and casseroles or just the right bra/shirt/dress and they enfold us in wings of acceptance and love and fashion advice or whatever it is we need at exactly that moment.

It starts young.  I see the seeds in my daughter and her friends. The way that they will stretch their hearts out to the max when it's needed.   The way they can turn on each other on the dime.  The way they can be a puppy pile of snuggles on the couch one minute and shrieking at each other the next over what to watch on TV only to be singing along merrily to some stupid song on the radio 5 minutes later and choreographing a new dance number.

I remember the horrible fights I had with my friends when I was younger.  I mean, I can remember some pretty vicious things... but the importance of those fights all seem to fade in the light of the good stories we have to tell.  Stories of epic sleep overs  and the pranks we used to pull,  late nights out on the town after sneaking out of my basement window, with cover stories so stupidly elaborate and patently false that just ONE call by our parents could have landed any number of us grounded until we were 39.

I can remember the betrayals as we flexed our sexual muscle around the many number of eager neighborhood boys willing to take advantage of the situation.I can remember the fights.  Sort of.  But mostly, I remember laughing.  A LOT.  I remember sharing our hopes and dreams our fears and hurts. I remember talking about feelings I didn't think anyone else HAD and finding out... wow, they feel that way too.  I'm not alone.  We're all so different and fucked up and kind of mean; but we're all the same and I'M NOT ALONE.

But, frankly it's kind of exhausting trying to keep up with the lows and the highs at times.  I began to wonder if EVERYONE had friendships like that.  I remember trying to talk about it to a guy I was dating with while I was going through an especially frustrating "low/high" relationship with a female friend.  He seemed confused.  "Why are you friends then?"  Why indeed?

"Well, when she's not being a mean, snobby, judgy, bitch, she is SOO funny, and she is so sentimental, and she's so damned smart, and she will drop everything in a second to come to you if you really need her and she's really kind of wonderful."

"Sounds like a lot of wasted energy and work."  He said. At that moment in time, I had to agree.  Later, it turned out HE was a lot of wasted and energy and work.  The Mean Snobby Judgy Bitch and I are still friends, if tenuously.  Because she's WORTH the effort.  Him, not so much. But I have to wonder - am I the only one who insists on holding on to friendships for as long as I can?  Is it sometimes maybe too long?  Or are we back on the subject of never really being able to love too much, you just can't always expect to be loved back?

How often are we supposed to forgive?  And do we forgive because we are genuinely forgiving and washing our souls clear of the pain caused?  Or do we forgive, because we recognize hints of ourselves in the criticisms, judgments and betrayals?? Or are we just biding our time until we have the perfect opportunity to strike the whore down when she's at her weakest and unsuspecting?? (Wait, what? did I say that?)

I do have some friendships that are "non" drama.  Some that have lasted years and some newer ones that I'm consciously cultivating.... women and actually a few men, who are just good people.  Fun to talk to.  Easy to share with. It's RELAXING to be around these people.  But with few exceptions most of these people don't carry the same kind of emotional value.  It's like you know one of the reasons they can accept you as you are, is cause, you really don't matter to them all that much.  You can do what you want and be who you are cause in the end, they're just passive listeners to your life, not people who are actively involved and ready to kick your ass when you make a mistake. I've recently discovered a friendship that is both accepting and willing to kick my ass - but with very little drama, and I'm guessing this is why we're fast becoming really good  friends...

But, I can't help but think that some of these other relationships I have must be unhealthy.  Is it normal to pack that much love and hate in a relationship?  Are they unconscious reflections of my relationship with my mother? Unconditional love mixed with Dear God can I smack the living shit out of her NOW?  I've never had a sister - but I have two friendships where I have called these women my "sisters" and they are the most volatile relationships I've had.  I've called off the relationships several times.  Officially and sometimes only in my head.  But I can honestly say that some of the best, most fun, most GENUINE moments were spent with these people.  But I also have to say that some of the deepest hurts and betrayals I've felt have been at their hands.  My relationship with these women have left me wounded in ways no break up with anyone short of the one with my ex-husband could.  But I keep seeing that glimmer of hope and light and laughter.  And I keep trying.  Maybe not as completely and naively as I have in other times.

And I have to wonder - have they ruined me to ever having complete trust in anyone again?  Or is this what life is?  Loving folks despite the pain and the disappointment and the bullshit that always seems to come along???  Or do I really need to let go so as to really heal and make room for authentic relationships that are full of love and light? Is that just a New Age fantasy that has been bundled along with sage for burning and pretty crystals to hang from our rear view mirrors? Is "REAL" about seeing the faults, accepting the pain, growing from it and moving on WITH these people, not away from them... cause they're really on the same journey you are?  And when do you cry - enough is enough?

I did some stuff today...

I did a lot of work today. I listened to a friend who needed to vent. I vented some. We laughed.  A Lot. We came to terms with life kind of sucks but it is also incredibly wonderful and we love all sorts of people we shouldn't.   I cried a little on my way home cause I realized I had a bit of a broken heart as well, but couldn't share it with anyone, so I bucked up. I drove around the neighborhood a few times to make sure eyes weren't red and poofy when I saw the kiddo. Picked up kiddo and went Birthday Party Stuff shopping.

I sang and "seat" danced while driving, so loudly and enthusiastically my child pointed out we did not in fact have tinted windows.  I kept singing and dancing, she joined me!   We then shopped for Zombie inspired stuff. We bought fake blood, and a plastic flesh eating worm that will sprout from my child's forehead. We picked up Hello Kitty inspired ears and tale. We marveled together at how sick we were and how we both were just wrong.  We bought Tinker Bell Cupcake wrappers, and gummi worms to sprout out of said cup cakes.  We also purchased gummi bugs and gummi mushrooms!  Did you know they even made gummi mushrooms? SOOO COOL! We decided this is going to be the most awesome Cemetery cake EVER.  We discovered they don't sell candy molds for body parts anymore.  We were sad.  We again marveled at how wrong we were.  We may at some point need therapy.  ;p

We came home and created, and cleaned a little and played.  I invited another friend over, but I don't think we really talked much about what was bothering her.  I think we both needed the company and the connection.  And the Wine.

I did some stuff today.  Today was Good.

Bad Hair Cuts and Dodging Bullets

OK, obviously this is NOT going to be a daily blog, lol.  Apparently I have to suffer for my art and  I'm just not that angst ridden.,  (who knew, right?  I thought I totally had that needless angst thing DOWN!)

Todays topic.  Hair. (Yeah, cause I cover all the DEEP INTELLECTUAL topics.)  I woke up a few mornings ago, hating the shapeless mop my adorable little pixie had become and with a "vision" for my new hair.

Adorable Pixie -


Not so adorable shaggy hair thing - cleverly hidden under HAT.

NEW VISION = Short, sophisticated, sexy.  Hot, right?

Instead, $120 later (including tip and weird red high lights) I walked out with a hair cut that was closer to...........

 *dramatic sigh* THIS

Reactions have run the gamut from "oh, it's not THAT bad" , to mumbled "it's cute" and a hasty change of topic, to comparisons to the Fab Four back in their heyday,  and culminating with the eventual "are you TRYING to sabotage yourself as a woman?" (I have the BEST friends, they may not care too much about my feelings, but they have enough faith in our friendship to be brutally honest and I have the mental scars to prove it.  Wait, What? Friends do that?  *mental note:  blog about freinemies later*)


But the interesting thing I learned (was reminded of) - was WOW are some men really involved with long hair.  I mean, you could set the bed they were laying in ON FIRE but if you have long hair, you're sexy and they might take you back.

I ran in to this in college, when I chopped off about 2 feet of Goddess hair after a hideous perm left me looking like Jon BonJovi in the early 90's.  I actually had a guy that I had a crush on come up to me and tell me,"wow, I used to think you were hot, and that you were really cool and all, and I'd been JUST about to ask you out, but yeah, I don't like you with short hair"  and I was like "REALLY?   Fuck, I should have kept the hair and given it to you to rub on your penis. That would have totally made you happy."  For some reason, he wasn't amused by my response and he was all like "I'm just being honest!"  and I was all "WELL you're fucking honesty sounds a LOT like you being an asshole!"  and he was all, "well my girlfriend now has long hair and she's HOT" and I was all "THEN IT'S TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATE TO BRING UP HOW HOT YOU THOUGHT I WAS WITH LONG HAIR"  and he was all "WELL SHE'S THINKING ABOUT GETTING A BOB." and then I think we may have made out passionately in the Frat House 1st floor Hallway for a bit, before I slapped him and went to go look for a re-fill on my beer. (Cold beer ALWAYS trumped insincere affection in my life, it's just the way it IS)

Side note -  (Saw him 2 years later at a friend's wedding, when the hair had grown back, and HE ACTUALLY ASKED ME OUT, and I WAS LIKE ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? GTFO - AND BY THE WAY, YOU'RE WIFE, IS STARING ASSHOLE) *whew* dodged that bullet.  Can you imagine being with a guy whose affections were actually swayed by the length of your HAIR?

Ever since then, I've been leery of men who were all about the long hair.  I mean I get it, we all have preferences. Brad Pitt with his long hair in "Legends of the Fall"  was AMAZINGLY fuckable... but that did not detract from his frakking hotness in Mr. and Mrs. Smith.   I PREFERRED HIM WITH HIS LONG HAIR, but that did not in anyway stop me from having dirty dreams about how fun a three-way would be with him and his short hair and Angelina Jolie.  (Oh shut the fuck up, EVERYONE used to have a crush on her until she became so damned skinny it was scary. Yes, I know, I'm scared of the vah-jay jay but it doesn't mean that if it were super  hot and paired up with a dude that was super hot... oh fuck... Mental note: fodder for future blog)


Uhm. so here's my point.  I understand that long hair is often one of the things that many women cling to, cause they know guys LOVE it.  And a LOT of women LOVE their long hair, genuinely and completely and the way a fat kid loves cake.

But I totally resent the implication that somehow, long hair will make me a more desirable mate.  Maybe I know enough men that I respect as individuals that I REFUSE to think that this is really one of those "tipping points" that make a difference.  And if I'm wrong?  well then *whew* as fucked up as it all may seem, maybe I'm just dodging bullets?

  

Men want sex. And my refusal to become a Moose.

I had a great IM conversation with someone who is one of the most interesting men I know and whom I greatly admire for how he's conquered his demons and how he writes about them.  He's a Fire Fighter, Carpenter, Contractor and Drag Queen.  So basically, when he's a man he's ALL MAN, and when he's not he's partial to tight leather skirts and leopard print bras (that he probably bought on sale, the bitch).  So if there was anyone that I thought could help me straighten out my dating profile and offer hints on how to dress sexier, all at one time, (what?  I'm nothing if not efficient) I trusted it would be him. 


So, I showed him my dating profile.  I expected a few edits (cause I'm wordy y'all), a couple of risque quotes, being told which bra to wear for the boob shirt pic, etc... not an;


 "OMG, get rid of the whole thing!"  


Uhm, what? ouchie....  Now I had worked really hard on that profile.  It was funny and honest and I felt a really good depiction of who I was and what I wanted.  His response "No it's not!"  And then he gave me some verbiage that he felt is what I should write and was honest.  My response ""But, but, but that's not funny?  It has no humor in it... it's so BOOOORING..."   Apparently, men are supposed to find out about my goofball personality AFTER they've already made the initial investment in dinner. 


We talked a bit more about what men were really looking for, and while I thought the whole "just sex" thing was just a front, he confirmed it wasn't.  Men apparently ARE looking for just sex (who knew?) but it also had to be sex that they felt they had HUNTED for.  Something about no self respecting hunter would shoot a moose that just walked up to him and said "Shoot Me."  (Which I beg to differ with, cause I think they would shoot the moose anyway, they just wouldn't respect it in the morning, but I MIGHT be mixing metaphors here.) So, apparently,  I have to figure out the balance of not asking to be shot, but making sure that they KNOW if they have me in their sights I might not run away.  :/ 


THE FUCK?


 Every man I talk to states they just want a woman who is honest and  can be themselves and isn't in to "playing games."  I'm pretty sure it's actually written in about 85% of the "about my ideal partner" section in most dating websites.  And yet apparently, men are ALL ABOUT THE GAME, though of course, they don't call it a game - they prefer to think of it as the HUNT.  I think they actually train women to be psychotic bitches  (no, I will not sleep with you, yes, I desire you, oh wait, no I don't, well maybe if you kiss me right there... *slap* how dare you, well, OK, well maybe I'll let you touch... oh that feels good - WAIT no - sorry, too soon.  Did you bring the filet knife?) WTF???


A few of us hold out, thinking that reason and humor and genuine affection is really what the "good" ones want.  Again, apparently we're wrong.  Guys love it when it actually happens and they end up with a mate that's like that - but it's not what they are LOOKING for.  It's just kind of happy collateral apparently.  


So, advice I was given in a nutshell.  Don't look for a relationship, have fun, have sex, and if a relationship is gonna happen, it will.  Do not ask to be shot, just let it be known that you won't exactly run if aimed at.  Also, I need to take fly fishing lessons, cause men, especially Alaskan men, totally respect a woman who can fly fish.  I guess it's the equivalent of shooting a moose with a large rack.  (ability to fly fish = large rack? topic of future blog) 


I don't know, I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out to be a come-hither moose.  Also, I think it's only fair that any guy I meet understands what a nerd I am at the outset, cause I feel it would be lying to represent myself as anything else.  And it they can't handle me for who I am, then really - why go through the effort of playing some elaborate charade, only to end up divorced later???  


All that being said, I think I'm still signing up for fly fishing lessons. After all, you can't completely discount the opinions of a man who can appreciate a really cute bra.  


Also, and it's only fair to mention - after I made the changes to my dating profile, I got triple the responses in one day, than a normal day  under last profile. Guys are weird.

Added Goals - Don't forget to pray and be Nice to Myself.

LONG rambly post... Mostly just me thinking out loud.  Feel free to ignore this one.  

Sometimes I come off as a bit of a Debbie Downer... but for the most part I am an optimistic person.  I have really been blessed in my life in so many ways, and I really do try and be thankful for the good things in my life.  Sometimes though, it's  not enough - and like now, I feel the need to make major changes in my life.  Usually, I'm not really quite ready to commit to those changes and I fail.  Then I beat myself up over not making those changes and it's a weird little circle of life thing, cause the beating up leads to an erosion of confidence which leads to even less desirable output and the need to start over again and then I don't follow through, which makes me want to kick myself in the pants to start over .... and so on and so on.  

For instance, I've been in a diet since I was 18.  I started off at 125 lbs... 24 years later I'm still on a diet and NOW weigh, well, let's just say, CONSIDERABLY MORE THAN THAT. I've been writing my "novel" since I was in 6th grade, fresh from reading To Kill a Mockingbird, thinking "WOW, I can DO that."  I don't think I've ever gotten past page 8 (though am actually pretty thrilled with myself for getting my 5th blog done in 7 days...woo hoo)  What started as a goal to keep my "room" clean, became my never ending struggle to eliminate clutter and mess from my house.  

So what can I do differently this time?  I've tried it with the help of friends, I've tried going it alone, I've tried putting myself in the hands of God, the Universe and an ex Husband.  Never worked for long, I mean, I'd meet some measure of success, but soon enough, I'd slip back in to old habits.  So what's the key?  I've been successful at a LOT of other things in my life, so what can I learn from them - that I can apply to these areas of my life?

I think it boils down to the following.  I need to truly make a mental shift.  One of my most difficult accomplishments, was quitting smoking.  I smoked from the age of about 12 until I was 30.  I'd quit every other year, and it would last a day, a month, sometimes as long as 6 months.  Then I would sneak a cigarette, I would berate myself for my weakness, I'd make 100 excuses as to WHY I NEEDED that cigarette at that point,  and suddenly I'd be back to smoking.  And I'd feel like hell. The feeling of self loathing would eat at me.  Why am I so weak?  Why do I lack the will power to stop?  Then the blame games would start, well if only so and so hadn't pissed me off, gosh, but work is so stressful and I need this cigarette to calm myself and really this is just kind of a shitty week so maybe I'll quit next Monday, at the beginning of next month, Next year... and then defiant acceptance.  Well fuck it, I'm just a Smoker.  That's who I am.  Light up or shut the fuck up.  There is nothing wrong with me smoking and it's just society try to impose it's fucking will on me and trying to tell me what I should or shouldn't do. Fuck them.  Light Up America.  Screw "the MAN" yeah.  Until I'd wake up one day smelling of cigarettes with a mouth that tasted of ashes and it would dawn on me, Oh yeah - I WAS THE ONE WHO WANTED TO QUIT AND THIS IS WHY.  So I'd quit.  And I'd fuck Up.  And I'd beat myself up over it.  And I would get angry. And I would accept - over and over again. 

Then came my pregnancy.  I wasn't expecting it.  In fact, I was kind of shocked cause I had been told it would be so difficult for me to conceive.  I counted back to a rather long night of smoking and drinking and I prayed, prayed HARD to a God I'm not always sure is listening and a Universe I was just getting to know.  Please.  Please let her come out OK (and look like Gabriella Reese, and be as smart as Einstein, and have the calm demeanor of the Dalai Lama oh and please God don't give her that weird teeny toenail thing I have going on...) and I'll be good.  And I quit.  Completely during the pregnancy and then I snuck a few more cigarettes here and there during my first few months of breastfeeding... but there were no recriminations and no jumping back up on the band wagon cause I still had many more months of breast feeding ahead.  I fucked up, but it happens and then I would diligently apply myself to not fucking up anymore.  Then one day I smoked my last cigarette - I remember it clearly.  I'd snuck one from the pack my husband at the time left on the counter.  It was 40 degree below zero outside,, and I had my window cracked so I could smoke through it... and the absurdity of it hit me.  I am a GROWN woman, sneaking cigarettes, freezing my fool fingers off and smoking out the window like I was in High School.  Oh, and it tastes like shit. Why am I doing this again?  And that was my last one.  A little over 10 and a half years ago.  Complete mental shift.  No more cravings.  

I feel I need to apply that same thing to my weight loss efforts, but I'm not sure how.  Please God, the Universe, help me out here however you can.  Also, yeah, I'm gonna mess up but I HAVE to do better now.  My blood pressure numbers are rising and cholesterol levels are on the threshold.  It's time.  I work so hard to raise an amazing daughter to WHAT?  To let some stupid heart attack kill me off cause I try and fit chocolate, bacon and cheese in to at least three meals a week? (or a day, whatever, don't judge.) There are so many wonderful, good foods out there.  I like to cook them.  WTF is my problem?  I'm lazy some days and don't want to cook, well HELL there are all those pre-made shakes and soup packets that I spent a small fortune on.  I'm going to fall, it's ok, I can get up.  Get to it.  I'm never gonna be that magical size 5 I wanted to be when I was 18,  but dayam, I can be healthy, and look better, and have more energy and feel better, right?  Why is it so hard to give myself permission to be nice to myself?  Why is it so much easier to bad mouth myself and call myself a long litany of names and focus on all the deficiencies of my nature?  To beat myself down so I lose all hope or wish to do better?  Why?  

I don't do this to myself professionally, I don't do it to anyone else.  Why do I think it's OK to treat myself like this??  So I think in addition to all those other changes I want to make, I need to add one more, cause I don't think any of those other changes are going to happen, much less stick, if I don't.  I need to be nicer to myself and treat myself with as much respect and kindness as I would a random stranger.  I'm worth it.  

OK - New Plan.

Apparently, I CAN'T raise Bengal cats in Alaska,.(See Saturday's momentary relapse blog) they're illegal here, or so my Judge friend tells me and I guess he should know being familiar with the law and all. So NOW I have to come up with a new plan on how to spend the rest of my pity party life.


I woke up this morning at about 4am and found it impossible to get back to sleep. My brain was itching. All these thoughts drifting in and out of my head, all these details left unattended to, all these plans and goals unrealized - not through any tragic turn of events, but through inaction.  I had to ask my self some really tough questions and I wasn't liking all the answers I was giving me.  (I hate when I do that.  I should really take up lying to myself, I suspect I'd be a lot easier on me and probably like me better, but then I would probably catch myself in a lie and lose all respect for me, and really no one wants that, cause my integrity is one of the best things I have going for me.)


Somewhere between the hours of 4 and 7 though, a few things started to become really clear.  


1.  I needed to start DOING instead of thinking and planning.  I have notebooks full of ideas, thoughts and dreams.  I know that the "Law of Attraction" that is so popular these days says you just have to WANT things to come in to your life and they will; I call bullshit.  I think you have to work for things to come in to your life.  The whole "when opportunity meets preparedness" thing rings a little truer to me.  


2.  My life needs a little "pruning" so that I can focus my energies on the things that matter. Less time hanging out in situations I care little for and with people who could care less about me, and more time focusing on doing the things I love with the people who matter. Less time on the Facebook and Twitter, watching TV, and being a "consumer" and more time being a Creator.  More time clearing out all the clutter, physical as well as emotional - to make room for the good things. Less time worrying about shit I can't control, more time paying attention to the things I CAN.  More time learning about the world around me, less time judging things I don't understand. 


3.  I need to be practicing a whole lot more self discipline. Setting schedules and keeping them.  Doing the steps it takes to reach all those goals I have.  Going to bed at a decent hour and hitting snooze less often.

4.  And finally, Holy Heck, my dog Koga farts a LOT in his sleep.  Eww.  Don't let that adorable face and shaggy coat fool you - he is stanky and you DO NOT want him curled up next to you.  


Sooo, with all those revelations and a particularly hellacious fart on Koga's end - I jumped out of bed the earliest I have in months, threw the windows open wide and gasped for dear breath... once the miasma cleared... I smelled early morning wafting through the windows.  I'd forgotten how much I like the smell of morning.  


I'm more full of energy today than I have been in awhile - and in the first hour of my day I think I accomplished more than I did all DAY yesterday.  Think I'm gonna try to and get used to this feeling.  Wrap myself around it and enjoy it. It's one of those First days of the rest of my life, right? I should get on that... uhm, again.