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.