Unable to Steal Your Soul

Well, I think I have officially commenced my mid-life crisis. I went to Talk Me Down Tuesday this week and then on Wednesday, I went to get my hair done. It seems like a basic thing to get one's hair done, but that is for normal people, not me.  Every appointment is its own adventure.  I go in, I think I know what I want to do and then my stylist, Giraffe Stalker, says those innocent words, "So, what are we thinking?"  And I tell her, "Well, I don't know, I think I want to grow it out..." or "I can't take it anymore, I look like I have Minion Mom hair and I can't take it anymore, cut it off!"  And she will say, "I thought we were growing it out?"  And then I say, "I want to, but I look ridiculous.  I don't want to look ridiculous.  Do you think I should grow it out?  I mean, do you think I look better with long hair anyway?  I mean, what's the point?  You know what? I don't care, cut it off."  She reluctantly agrees knowing that the very next time I come in, we will repeat this conversation.  Now, it's time to talk about the color.  Giraffe Stalker says, "So, are we just going to brighten it up a bit with some blonde?"  Yes, let's keep it blonde and let's brighten it up.  The color is typically the easy part.

This appointment did not stray from the usual conversation.  I said, "Okay, I'm growing it out, this time I mean it, fer reals...unless you think I shouldn't.  I mean, I want to, but what is our exit strategy for this style?  I mean, it's so short now, can I do this and not lose my mind and look hideous?"  Giraffe Stalker assures me we can do this, we just need to grow this part out, keep that part short until the other part gets a little longer and it can be done.  Seems reasonable.  I said, "Well, what if we did something fun with the color so that I was distracted by the color and not by the fact that I look like a homeless person that just crawled out of a dumpster?"  We discussed adding low-lights, we discussed adding a little flair underneath and then somehow magazines came into play and we were looking at pictures to find just the right color for the underneath shade. 

And then it happened.  I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't know where the voice came from.  I don't know which pony voice was juicing up in my head, but I said, "See this color?  I've always wanted to try this color...all over.  Do you think I could pull that off?"  Giraffe Stalker said, "Yes, I think you could.  However, if you really want to do that, you can't just go back to blonde if you don't like it, because if we do, we will fry it...so, you would have to commit...for a while...do you think you can do that?"  I sat there, giddy inside.  The pony voices in my head formed a committee and then a sub-committee and then the one that was likely the ring leader of this whole thing pushed her way to the front and said, "Yes!..I mean, I'm scared, but should I dare? OMG, I want to....but what if I hate it...?" Giraffe Stalker waited patiently as I verbally and mentally processed the decision.  It was just another moment and all the committees finally reached a decision.  The verdict was read and my voice repeated, "Fuck it, let's do it! I've been blonde my entire life, I want to try it!"  I could hear the one scared pony voice in the back of my head.  She was in the back room shaking and weeping, "this is a mistake, you're a blonde, you're going to hate it, then what are we going to do???"  The other pony voices left her and went to celebrate with cake.

I sat there in the chair as my transformation took place.  It just so happened Giraffe Stalker had her lap top open next to her work station and we were streaming that giraffe named April back East that is supposed to have a baby any day now.  How ironic, as I waited for that giraffe to pop out a new life, here I was, going rogue.  Going against every rational thought.  Why was I doing this?  Why did I want to be a Ginger?  Why did I want to depart from who I am inside, which is a sunny, bright, blonde girl?  I mean, the sunny and bright part is an over-dramatization of my personality, but still, you see where I'm going with this.  Was I going to become dark and angry?  Wait...wasn't I already?  Oh yeah.  Okay, well then what in the hell am I worried about, it's just hair? Right?

And so, it happened.

Right after, as soon as I got home.

Two days later in different lighting, less freaked out

 As luck would have it, 99.9% of the friend and acquaintance audience has embraced the change and told me they think I was brave to do it and love it but wondered what prompted it.  Was I in the Fitness Protection Program?  Had I taken a second job as a stripper?  Was I trying to tie-dye all my white towels with pink and red coloring every time I wash and dry my hair? Was I wanting to become more sassy? That one makes me laugh, because, seriously, I've never needed red hair to be sassy. Was I trying to become a ginger and steal souls?  Which, come to find out, since I am not a natural ginger, I am unable to steal souls.  Very upset about this.  The .1% that didn't like it was an older bitter bald guy.  He looked at me, scrunched up his face and said, "I don't like it.  I like it blonde.  I'm sorry."  Funny, I hadn't asked for his opinion. I said, "Well, when I decide to change it back to blonde, I'll come straight over to your desk for your approval."  Whatever.  I didn't do this for approval, I did it for ME.

In the end, the real answer as to why I did it is quite simple.  I'm just a woman who is 45 years old realizing that the time to do random shit like this is now.  What am I waiting for?  Maybe this will be the first of many bold changes in my life.  Maybe taking the plunge into doing something as silly, yet bold, as changing my hair color so drastically is just the kick in the ass I need to take plunges in other places.  Now, don't look for plunging necklines or plunging butt cracks.  No one needs to see that, except Shark Bait and frankly there is no shocking him anymore.  But maybe I'll do something else shocking.  I don't know.  I'm still getting my bearings, it's only been two days.  However, I did send a very snippy instant message to Biker Barbie and she wrote back, "Look here, Missy, just because you have red hair now doesn't mean you get to get sassy with me!"  Well, apparently I have stepped up my sassy game without even realizing it.  Shit, the transformation is happening more quickly and intensely than I had anticipated.  Must be in the chemicals in the coloring...I can't be held responsible.

So, there it is, my little blog about my hair color.  Not epic, but my abbreviated version of how it all went down.  And also, kind of a warning to y'all, I'm feeling a bit bad ass and I think it's time to start acting it again. I've been feeling puny for a while now.  But just wait, I'm going to own every part of this damn hair. 

More to come...

xoxo

Vending Machine Emergency Preparedness

There has been a lot of stress in life lately.  It's been kind of hard to feel like writing or working through it in the blog as I often do.  I also have not really been able to vent about much of it either, which you know Angry Pony LOVES to do.  Angry Pony has actually been pretty  tame for a while now, which saddens me. Just so you know, that Angry Pony still exists, she is in there fighting the fight every day.  I let her out occasionally.  As a matter of fact, she came out to play just the other day...

It was last Friday, to be exact.  I had been given a project to update a spreadsheet that was all about being prepared for an emergency.  I already attend monthly meetings on safety for the building, plus assist with the departmental safety team for our floor.  We've got it covered., or so I thought.  Apparently, there is an emergency preparedness site that also needs all the I's dotted and the T's crossed to make sure we are REALLY ready if shit goes down. This site requires that we fill out this spreadsheet with what we are ready for, what we haven't covered yet and what we are currently working on getting updated.  I saw this spreadsheet and I am certain my eyes rolled back in my head.  I was instantly pissed.  I hate crap like this.  Alas, the boss asked me to do it, so I guess I'll dive in, bad attitude or not.  The emergency preparedness spreadsheet didn't care that I was on the verge of Shark Week.  The emergency preparedness spreadsheet didn't care that I didn't care about all these damn questions.  I threw an internal temper-tantrum, snipped at a few people and then resigned myself to the task at hand (also known as the Administrative Stages of Grief).

I start reading the questions and I am instantly annoyed.  The questions they are asking are redundant and ridiculous.  Look, I get it, being prepared for a major event or even a minor one is important.  I don't mean to take safety lightly.  Really, I don't.  We have actually had a couple of situations come up over the last couple years that have tested our level of preparedness, so know when I vent about the following, it's just venting.  I don't need a lecture on that one time you were stranded in Iceland with only a cigarette lighter and a light jacket, in the dead of winter on Christmas Eve and Santa couldn't see your rescue fire, okay?

Anyway, I'm checking the stupid boxes and having a full on pissed off conversation with myself at my desk when I get to some really stupid shit. 

• "Estimated time to make a decision?"  Is this a real fucking question?  I don't know?  Which people am I trapped with?  Like, someone with common sense or Betty White who is in need of a Snickers bar before she can decide whether to pick her nose or wipe it on her sleeve?  How can I possibly answer that question? Just the time it was taking me to answer the questions was a clear indicator of how screwed we are in the event of an actual emergency.

• "Do you have someone appointed to paying attention to communicating about the evacuation?"  Seriously?  It's bad enough trying to find someone that pays attention on the daily, now you have limited me to the people that just happen to be around at the time of an emergency that I don't know when it will be?  You don't normally plan emergencies, right?  I have to assign someone to pay attention?  We are as good a dead.

•  "How long will it take you to get everyone paper order forms?"  Wait, what kind of emergency are we talking about here?  I mean, it's an emergency, but my people are still taking calls?  What kind of an emergency is it?  Like, we are out of toilet paper in the bathroom?  The power is out and we are running on a generator? Or, was the city just destroyed by a massive Tsunami?  How long will it take me to make copies?  I don't know...am I having to hand write them with my bad hand because the good one was blown off in an explosion?  Did all the paper get blown up?  Am I re-assembling sheets of paper?  Are we taking orders via chisel and stone?  How can I truthfully answer that question?

• "How long will it take you to notify contacts that the lines are down?"  Stop.  If the lines are down, how in the hell are we going to tell anyone?  Smoke signal? Pony Express? By boat?  I'm so confused.

And then there was this question, the granddaddy of them all...which is what inspired me to get out of my chair, walk in my bosses office and ask her just what in the hell kind of bullshit am I filling out.  The question is, "Who is in charge of contacting the vending machine company?"  I looked at my boss and proceeded to go on a rant.  She just sat back and enjoyed the show because she knew what you all know...there was no stopping this train from derailing, so the best thing to do is let it go and look for survivors later. 

I assumed the stance, I got the angry, crazy eyes and warmed up my poking finger and I said something like, "Can you please tell me why in the hell I am filling out and emergency preparedness spreadsheet that is asking about who is going to call the vending machine guy?? Like, I need to assign someone to call the vending machine guy in the case of a catastrophic event?  Are you shitting me? If the BIG ONE hits us and the roads are demolished, do you think the vending machine company is going to beam Scotty down here to give us Sour Patch Kids and Cool Ranch Doritos???!!!"  My boss remained calm.  She said, "Now, this isn't necessarily for a catastrophic event.  Say, for example we have a sniper on the roof or across the street and no one can leave, having those vending machines full would be important.  And sleeping bags and water..." I cut her off and continued in angry disbelief, "SO YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT IF THERE IS A FREAKING SNIPER ON THE ROOF, JAMES BOND THE VENDING MACHINE GUY IS GOING TO COME IN HERE??!!! I DON'T THINK SO! What are they gonna do, put a Kevlar vest on him, some sort of helmet and a bullet proof box of Twix, say a little prayer, slap him on the ass and send his dumb ass over the skybridge?  Are you kidding me???!!!  Oh, sorry ma'am, your son died trying to get Twizzlers and M&M's to the hostages in the Glass Palace.  I don't think so.  NO ONE is coming for us, I don't care if Betty White is in here needing a Snickers, it ain't happening! I've seen the vending machine guy, he ain't that tough."  I stood there wild-eyed with an elevated heart rate totally fired up.  My boss just busted up laughing.  She said, "Okay, maybe that is a bad example, but there may be times when having that vending machine full is critical."  I said, "Well, what if no one can get to us?  You think Sodexho is going to helicopter something in?  I think the vending machine company is going to have bigger problems than our need for chocolate.  Besides, if the BIG ONE hits Seattle, we are good as dead.  This building is coming down on us and we are going to get squished and we are dying here, do you hear me? Dying here. Guts squished out everywhere."

I think my boss may have sensed she was not going to win this battle. She said, "Maybe we should work on this together on Monday when you've had some time out of the office."

Subsequently, Monday came and went.  I never saw the spreadsheet again.  I believe she filled it out on her own and sent it in.  I think it's safe to say that my name is likely listed as the person that is going to contact the vending machine guy if we do actually have a disaster.  I'm probably also the one that is assigned to paying attention.  I just have a feeling about it.

Anyway, I  hope all of you have considered these things at your respective places of employment.  What I would suggest is finding out who is in charge of the vending machine and befriending them, because that, my friends, is how you are going to survive a major event.  Just saying.

Be safe out there...and carry an extra Twix with you in your purse or backpack.

 

 

Thinking About Thoughts...

Anyone that knows me very well knows that I pretty much analyze everything.  I can't help it.  Part of it is because I'm a woman and I think most women are pretty introspective.  Shark Bait may say I'm not only introspective, but obsessive as well.  Look Pal, it's a skill and frankly, I think more people should tap into their analytical skills.  Like, hmmmm, Cassondra looks pissy today...I wonder if I should really bug her about what I just saw in the bathroom....  Anyone with common sense (which is another subject all on its own), would take a look at the situation, consider possible scenarios of how that could go and make an educated decision. That is the beauty of analyzing a situation when utilizing it for one's own safety. Sadly, I run into many people that do not take the time to truly consider the outcome.  Those people generally have to learn the hard way.  I'm all about education.

Anyway, there is a lot of stuff to think about, if you think about it, which you should.  I spent most of Talk Me Down Tuesday talking about my thoughts and what they really mean and how they impact my journey in life.  The Rug Doctor spends a lot of time trying to get me to engage is positive self talk.  It's cute that she has hope for me and thinks that I've made progress.  I like her spunk and positive, if not delusional outlook. She believes in me.  She wants me to believe in me.  Someday I might, but until then, I'm mostly going to think about it.

We talked about how if you start your day thinking, "this day is going to suck," that it likely will.  All your energy goes in to proving that statement to be true because we like to be right, we like to be validated in our feelings.  So, people that start their day like, "I'm going to make this a great day!" will focus on all the positives and focus their energy on the bright side.  Well, we all know where I stand on this positive, Polly Anna bullshit.  The Rug Doctor understands the force is strong in this one, so we previously negotiated that my mantra would be, "Today probably won't totally suck."  This is supposed to be my starting point.  And then at the end of the day, I'm supposed to think, "today was good enough."  So, start your day and end your day with positive-ish thoughts.  This is a problem for me.  Let's examine an average day:

Alarm clock goes off, I hit snooze. "Fucking alarm clock.  I don't want to get up, I've been up half the night, I'm tired and my hip hurts.  I wonder why my hip hurts. Stupid body...I'm probably dying, it's probably bone cancer...if I do get up, what am I going to wear today?"

Seven minutes later, alarm goes off again, I hit snooze button. "I can't get up, I wish I could call out today and just stay in bed all day. But would I really want to stay in bed?  I'd probably get tired of being in bed.  And then once I got up, what would I do? Would I clean house? Watch TV? Go see my pony? I would like to go shopping but I'm too poor.  I hate being poor.  What if I won the lottery?  I should buy a ticket.  If I won, I would totally buy a big piece of land.  But if I won the lottery, I'd have to win, like, a shit ton of money because I have things I want to do and people I want to help.  I'd have to go to the store to buy a lottery ticket. What numbers would I choose? That means I have to get out of bed, but if I am going to the store, I have to take a shower.  I can't just go like this.  And, I can't just take a shower, I have to do my hair.  I really hate my hair right now.  I look like a boy if I don't wear any make-up.  I wonder if I should grow my hair out?  I mean, it's really hard getting through that middle stage, but if I can do it, that would be good.  If I lost weight I wouldn't look so ridiculous.  I hate that I'm fat.  Why can't I do what I need to do to get skinny? What if I never get skinny?  Will I end up in one of those Hover Round wheel chairs? I probably won't live that long because I'm fat. What happened to my underwear?  Did I take them off before I went to bed?  Did we have sex last night?  I don't think we did...no, we didn't, I'd remember.  Will's still sleeping, why does he get to sleep? (let out big sign and tug on blankets) should we have sex now?  No, that's gross, who has sex in the morning with morning breath?  I mean, I guess you could just not kiss.  Have we ever had morning sex?  I think once.  We are night people...sometimes afternoon. Sigh....I need to get up. What am I going to wear today?"

Get up, get in shower. "I wonder how long this shower scrubby has been in here...it probably has dead skin on it.  Should I shave my legs today?  Who's gonna notice? No one. I hate my legs. How did I get to be this fat?  I need to eat better today.  I should go to the gym. I hate going to the gym.  I'll feel better.  I'm totally going to the gym today.  I mean, if Shark Bait isn't going to be too late.  If he is, I can't go to the gym because I have to go home to let the dogs out.  Who let the dogs out? woof woof.... stop screwing around. I wonder if anything is in my belly button, I hate putting my finger in there, it's weird. I wonder what would happen if I never cleaned in there.  Gross...I don't think I feel like going to the gym today. What am I going to wear today...?"

Okay, I'll spare you the entire day, it's a lot of thoughts.  What I'm really trying to get at is that I spend a lot of time thinking about everything.  I brought up to the Rug Doctor that I think I'm probably a bad person because of the things I think about.  And bad thoughts mean I probably deserve to be in this body.  She says, "No one can hear your thoughts." To which I said, "God can."  And in retrospect, probably Santa Claus can, too.  Anyway, she says that all people have thoughts that might be mean or negative and that doesn't mean we are bad people.  What makes a difference is what we do with those thoughts and that we use the filters to keep them inside.  If we keep them inside, they don't hurt anyone, unless we are talking about mean thoughts about ourselves.  That's harmful self-talk.  I said, "Just on the way here I was thinking that I should embrace my fat self, let my skirt ride up showing my fatty legs, wear a tu tu over that and a Mickey Mouse shirt and shave half my head and dye the other half purple like other people I see that seem perfectly happy with looking like a crazy fat person.  See, that's mean.  Who am I to say what beauty is and if that person feels good, good for them.  I'm a bad person for thinking that."  The Rug Doctor insisted that those thoughts are normal and don't define who I am.  What I do with them and how I treat people as a result define who I am.  I did bring up the fact that I usually don't hide my feelings, so therefore, many of my thoughts are not a mystery.  We are just going to call that a draw.

So, Rug Doctor doesn't think it's rational for me to feel like I deserve bad things because I have bad thoughts and my relationship with bad thoughts is a tough battle for me.  My depression and the bad thoughts are having a party that my body doesn't really want to go to, but feels obligated because there's going to be cake, ice cream, pony rides and a big screen showing of Magic Mike and who doesn't want to participate in all that? I need to focus on the positive.  I need to understand that progress is not always a straight line to the finish line, often times there are many little bunny trails we go on before we get back on track.  Whatever. Just because I understand it doesn't mean I have to like it. 

I guess I could try some positive thoughts.  It's not a new idea. I've been trying, honestly, I have.  I guess I have to try harder. Have you ever seen that video of the little girl giving herself positive affirmations in the morning?  Here, let me grab it off of You Tube...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cgw8OFVHzd4.

Maybe I need to make something like this.  Let me give it a try...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1l22RpWf7Hg&feature=share

There, I'm going to do this every morning.  Probably. And go to the gym.  Got my thoughts in order.

Blog Sampler

Here's the thing.  I don't really have anything significant to blog about, however, my head is full of crazy stuff.  Like, it's a mess up there. This could be why I had crazy dreams of running from fire, mudslides, Russians and  then saving some girl's My Little Pony comb from a cliff's edge last night.  It's exhausting sorting this shit out.

Let's just start with something that I need to get out there. Something I need to come to terms with.  Something I have been putting off for a long time.  Something I have criticized, mocked and stood steadfast against.  This thing I'm talking about...this thing that I must come forth and admit...it's too much.  People, brace yourselves and hug your loved ones...I bought a mother trucking pair of LulaRoe leggings.  I didn't mean to.  I wasn't seeking them out. I didn't find them, they found ME!  I don't have legging legs.  I have legs that belong behind a long skirt, behind closed doors or behind hedges.  They do NOT belong in leggings.  But hear me out.  I was minding my own business on the book of the face and there was Shark Bait's cousin selling her LLR leggings.  And then, with God as my witness, the angels were singing in the background and right there...on the book of the face...there was a pony pair.  It was as if fate had stepped in and said, "You will wear pony leggings that feel like butter and the universe has said it will be so."  And so, what was I supposed to do?  God sent them. I ordered the damn things.

When they arrived, it was just as I suspected, they looked ridiculous.  I will never wear them outside the house, or when the curtains are open, but they are comfy.  So, now I am just like all the other crazy people out there wearing these damn brightly colored animal print leggings.  I thought I was a different kind of crazy. I didn't think I'd ever cave, but the ponies, I could not deny them.

So there's that. It's out there.  Don't judge me.

In other news, there is a woman that works on a different floor than me at the Glass Palace, but she has been coming downstairs to poop in the bathroom on my floor.  I call her the Third Floor Pooper.  There is a luxurious bathroom on the second floor with many stalls to choose from.  There is a bathroom on HER floor she could use, hell there are bathrooms all over that place, but she comes down to our bathroom, usually when I have to pee, and camps out in there and stinks the place up. It's bugging me.  I wrote a poem in my head about her the other day as I had the misfortune to walk in the bathroom behind her.  It goes like this, "I don't like your shirt, I don't like your hair-do, I don't like it when you come in here and take a poo.  I wish you'd take a dump on another floor, you stink it up so bad in here, I have to run out the door."  It bugs me...stinky Third Floor Pooper.

Something else that is weighing on my mind is the auto-correct on my phone.  It's really bugging me.  Piece of shit. You know, if it wants to correct me when I type the word "Fuck" and replace it with "Duck" that's fine, whatever.  Pisses me off, but I get it.  But when I write a legit word like "wide" and it replaces it with "wife" that's bullshit!  Why?  They are both words.  What the hell does my phone think it's doing replacing that word?  But if I write the word "wong" instead of "wrong" do you think it can fix that?  Oh, hell no, then my phone is ducking clueless.  I type in "callef" instead of "called."  Again, Smarty McSmarterson smart phone doesn't have a ducking clue what to do! It doesn't have a suggestion.  Here's a suggestion, stop ducking around with me and let me fucking swear when I want and choose my own sentences.  Hey, Smartphone, the word is BITCH, not BUTCH.  I'll let you know when I want to call someone BUTCH.  Dammit!

And before you get all smart with me, yes, I know you can turn it off, but my phone is ducking possessed!  I go to turn it off and it says it's already off.  Look, I'm just one simple girl trying to take selfies and send texts, don't get all technical on me, but I still know how to turn it off.

Moving along, last night I had a conversation with Shark Bait.  We were watching The Batchelor and I'm all like, "do you remember when you started falling in love with me?  Saying I love you the first time?"  Crickets.  I'm like, seriously?  I remember when I told you I loved you. I remember how you just had that dumb look on your face and didn't say it back because you weren't ready, whatever.  And then how when you finally did tell me you loved me, it was over the phone when I was getting my hair done in Everett and you said, "by the way, I love you" just before you hung up.  You didn't even say it to my face, chump.  He's like, I don't remember.  How come I remember that stuff?  I said, so you don't even remember the first kiss?  He's like, "I don't know....well, yeah, it was at your door and you kissed me."  Do you see how I had to do freaking everything?  So exhausting.  Basically Shark Bait remembers the sweater I was wearing the first night we met and he remembers the first kiss, beyond that, it's all a blur.  What else could possibly be up there in his head?  Fishing stories, hunting stories, gun parts, jeeps, random facts about why ducks feet don't freeze in the winter and shit like that, but me?  Not even there.  I'm like his right arm...and he's left handed, so he doesn't even really need me.  I mean, I'm there everyday, but unless he has a booger or has to hike up his pants, I'm just along for the ride. This might be a mild exaggeration, but seriously, no details?  So, that's why I punched him in the gut ten times.  Remember that, bitch.

I'm also pissed off that I'm looking a bit old and a bit haggard and that I am still fighting my weight years after my surgery.  One of my Facebook memories came up the other day ( http://angry-pony.blogspot.com/2015/02/best-cry-of-2015.html ) and I re-read it.  It brought back a lot of pain, but really is the root of my struggle since then.  I'm really tired of this whole fight, but I can't escape it anymore than I could escape the spiritually placed LulaRoe leggings. 

Anyway, I have a lot of things like this wearing on my mind these days.  This is just a sampling.

Some other topics that I won't delve into now, but still floating around up there are:

• Why is my horse costing me so much money right now?
• Why is Shark Bait's dog shitting on the floor in the house 30 minutes after he comes in from outside when he just shit outside?
• Why do people ask me about vending machine refunds when I don't manage the vending machines?  There's freaking 800# on the damn machines. CALL IT.
• Why do people think it is okay to go to break and never come back to work and never tell anyone?  Why can't we be responsible adults?
• At what age will I finally stop getting acne?
• How did Facebook know that I was out at Petco on Saturday looking for pet beds?  I got home and there were a bunch of pet bed ads on my Facebook page and on Groupon.  What kind of witchcraft is that?
• As much as I see the Rug Doctor, am I now through my psychology Jedi Knight training and can I now put up my shingle and start a practice of my own?  I've got a lot of good advice.
• Why do some people spell it "donuts" and other people spell it "doughnuts?"

 I have a bunch of other stuff up there, too, but tonight's blog was just a sampler.  I'm sure I will explore more next time.  Stay tuned...

 

You Will Not Define Me

For those of you that have been following my postings on Facebook, you know that I have started off 2017 trying to have a more positive outlook on life and trying to get going in a better direction for myself.  I didn't do this because I think America is going to be great again or because it's a new year's resolution.  I committed to it because it is time to focus on the things I can do and to stop telling myself I can't.  It's a new thing, you know, something the Rug Doctor has been trying to get me to do for a few years now.  I'm finally ready to drink her Kool-Aid and give it a try.

Everything was going pretty well with my new endeavor.  I was being positive, I was eating well, I eliminated the majority of sugar from my life and I was pushing worry out. I was asking the Left and the Right to be peaceful and not to hate on my FB page. The world around me was completely unstable with the induction of a new President into office, but I was trying to think, "maybe it won't be so bad..."  I had not liked either of the major two candidates running for election, so I really tried to stay out of the upheaval around it.  I just could not justify making myself miserable about it, but still felt like we, as a country were screwed either way. None the less, I tried to stay positive.

And then, the same weekend the new President of the United States officially took office, the women of the world marched in an act of unity, power and strength, but also fear at the same time.  Fear of the unknown of what would happen to their rights, but also taking a stand.  At least that is my interpretation of the events.  I could be wrong, and Lord knows, you'll tell me if I am.  That is where part of my positive resolve started to be torn down, which is ironic, since I am a woman myself.  I didn't understand what the real "message" was behind the march. Everywhere I looked, there was a different take on what the march meant, what the purpose was, why it was happening.  Was it against Trump becoming our President? Trump grabbing crotches?  Was it about women's rights? Was it about Planned Parenthood being threatened as a place for women to go?  Was it about healthcare? Was it about abortion?  I found myself inundated with images on social media and the news.  I saw a picture of some women with vagina costumes on their head and also some of  the women in full body costumes and I thought to myself, "what the hell is that about?"  As a woman, in my opinion, I am not defined by my vagina. I would not draw attention to that part of my body, because that isn't all I'm about.  It's a part of my anatomy.  And so I posted the picture and asked, what is this all about, I don't understand the message?  Many of my friends agreed and thought it was ridiculous and also did not understand.  I was not being hateful.  I was expressing my perspective. That's right, my perspective. My thoughts. My opinion. My ability to put something out to the universe and say, "this doesn't make sense to me." It's okay for me to do that, isn't it?

I get people are passionate about many things right now. Hell, who am I kidding, people are passionate about EVERY.FUCKING.THING right now. What I didn't get is that I would be considered shallow or ignorant by questioning the message behind a vagina hat.  I'm not either of those things.  Because I don't see the world exactly as someone else sees the world does not make me ignorant. It doesn't make me hateful.  I never said, "Look at those stupid bitches, what a bunch of C U Next Tuesday's."  Never said that. I wasn't hateful. I was questioning.  It also never occurred to me that people would not understand who I am and where I stand.  Especially people that know me.

This past week I've continued to see friends attacking friends on social media.  I've seen people posting things on their very own page and being attacked by others with their own agendas.  I've seen people being so hateful and mean. I've seen people I thought I knew, people that I care about being so riled up that I have feared to say anything on my page.  Scared to post about something, scared to post about nothing.  Scared of the judgment surrounding everything I say or do or don't do.  I've actually had anxiety about it for over a week.  I've been scared to be myself for fear I would be attacked for it, or judged due to misunderstanding. Scared to try and be sarcastic or poke fun at life for fear of the backlash.  I talked to the Rug Doctor about it today at Talk Me Down Tuesday and I said, "I am 45 fucking years old, I don't give a shit what these people think, but I sure as hell don't deserve to be ripped apart over it."  So, even though I wasn't going to blog about all of this, I find myself here, putting it in writing, taking my own personal stand.  You will not define me. You will not shoosh my voice.  You will not tell me to sit down because I have "White Privilege."

Let me just clear it up for those that may be wondering who I am or where I stand:

• I don't give a shit who you love, who you sleep with, who you marry.  I don't. Gay, straight, whatever.  I don't judge you for that. Everyone deserves to be happy and have legal rights. I will support the laws that give you that right.

• I could care less what color your skin is or what your ethnicity is.  Not meaning your heritage isn't important, but meaning, I don't judge you by your skin color, your culture, your beliefs. I don't.  I DO care that others judge you for that.  That bothers me.  I don't support that behavior.

• I believe in God.  I don't care what you believe.  There are judgmental religious people and there are people that believe in love and letting God do the judgment. Just because I believe in God, don't assume you know where I stand on the issues at hand. You likely don't, you know why? Because you've never asked me.

• I don't care if you identify as Liberal, Democrat or Republican or whatever else.  I don't. I have views that are a blend of all of those platforms, honestly.  

• I don't care who you voted for.  I have friends on both sides of that fence and I know all of them voted the way they did for different reasons.  Who they voted for does not define who they are as a person.  Some of you may disagree. Go ahead, that is your right. I know many people voted the way they did because they wanted change.  Those aren't bad people.  Given the two options we were given, in my opinion, the biggest Charlie Foxtrot in my lifetime, I think there were going to be challenges either way. I'm not going to be hateful and run people out of my life because everyone doesn't see things like I do.  p.s. Who I voted for is none of your mother trucking business. Don't assume, because you are likely incorrect. I did the best I could picking between Beavis and Butthead. And, there were OTHER names on the ballot, in case you didn't know.

I could go on about who I am, but I'll spare you. We don't even have to talk about my vagina, because, guess what, it is a fraction of the big picture. I don't want to talk about your dick, either, but I digress. What I am going to say is, I have been scared to death to say anything about anything for over a week, I've watched the hatred and I've watched the news and I've started to fret and be fearful and lose hope. My resolve for putting the positive out into the universe wavering because of the judgment and cutting words from some. I'm losing who I am because of the fear of the masses. I was expressing this to one of my friends and she said, "You know, historically, people have lived through worse times.  Look at mid-evil times, people got hung from their fingernails or had their heads chopped off in the streets.  The wild wild west. Times of slavery.  All of it horrible, and people survived it.  We will survive this, too.  Imagine how those people felt back then, probably just as freaked out as we are."

I don't want to live freaked out.  Do you? If I choose not to post anything about what is going on in America, it doesn't mean I don't care, it doesn't mean I'm unaware, it means I'm not going to go down that well of despair. Some would say that if we are not worked up and afraid, nothing will get done and that we have to stay vigilant.  Okay, I see your point, but see mine.  I need to control what I can.  I need to control my teeny tiny piece of this world.  I have the right to focus on my health.  I have the right to focus on my family and the things that affect how I live my daily life. I have a right to feel joy in my daily life. The POTUS will not take that from me and neither will you. You will not define me.  You will not make me live in fear. You will not make me feel stupid for expressing myself when I choose to do so.  You will not silence me because I don't share the same struggle as you. We all have struggles of our own.  You don't get to decide which struggles are more important than others. My voice may not speak from your personal experience, but it is just as relevant.  If I have the obligation to be open-minded and see your point of view, then you should also have the emotional intelligence to try and see mine.  You don't have to agree, but you should respect the right of another person's opinion or perspective.

If you find any of this offensive or impossible to understand, then it is possible that we may not be compatible as friends and that's okay.  We don't have to like each other.  We don't have to agree.  But, you don't get to define me and who I am.  And, if my level of positivity doesn't meet your standards, no need to tell me.  The only standards I'm trying to live up to are my own.  I'm one person, I'm not perfect and God help me, I'm a handful.

Talk Me Down Tuesday

Well, I have experienced "Therapy Thursday," "Wack-job Wednesday" and now, "Talk Me Down Tuesday."  That really only leaves "Freak out Friday" and "Moping on a Monday."  We'll give TMDT a chance.

Today, we talked about my all-time record of being positive for 15 days straight.  I mean, it's a big deal.  I've been eating good, no cheating, I posted some positive meme's on Facebook without throwing up in my mouth and I've even said, "Good Morning" to a few people at work.  Hell, I even wore a shirt to work that said, "SMILE" on it for a new program launch. This is behavior that cannot be discounted.  I feel like I just graduated from Schick Schadel Hospital or something and I don't even want to drink or smoke.  I think the Rug Doctor was quite pleased.

I went on to tell her that the voices in the back of my mind, or wherever they live, are worried that I can't possibly sustain this foreign practice of behavior.  She says we just take one day at a time.  Short-term goals.  I told her that being positive and seemingly happy can only lead to discord when the rug gets pulled out from underneath me.  I said, "You ever see the movie Final Destination?  That girl is all happy and then steps out in the street and then SPLAT!!! Freaking bus hits her and she's dead...and pureed.  I suppose you'd tell me that at least she was happy all that time and didn't waste time being sad.  I suppose you'd tell me her outcome would not have changed had she worried or been depressed vs just embracing life, isn't that what you were going to say to me?"  I like to think when I work this out myself I should get a discount on my co-pay, but she is the one that went to school for this shit, so I let it be.  The Rug Doctor said that she would say something close to that.  I think years of therapy qualifies me to be a therapist someday.  I mean, I kind of already am in some ways, but I'd like to just call these sessions an apprenticeship.  Someday I'll hang a shingle up and my practice will be called Let's Cut Through The Shit, Shall We? Too long? I guess I can put some more thought into it.  I suppose it should be more nurturing. Meh. Whatev's.

Speaking of the word, "Meh" do you know that Shark Bait HATES it when I say that to him?  It started as a joke, but it actually drives him KUH-RAZY.  Like, of all the things I do, of all the times I'm difficult, this is the thing he clings to that seriously, all joking aside, pisses him off.  You know what I have to say about that? Meh.  I guess I need to try harder to make one of my other behaviors more annoying.  Challenge accepted.

Anyway, the Rug Doctor and I continued to talk about my inner voices and how I need to get Catastrophe Cassondra to calm down.  I need to tell her that I am acknowledging her, but that I am going to stay on the current path of being positive.  I likened it to talking to a toddler.  "Honey, Mommy is being positive right now, why don't you sit down and watch a movie...no, not The Day After Tomorrow....no, not Titanic..look, do you want a time-out?  Mommy is trying to be positive but your making Mommy want to beat your ass...no, throwing that temper tantrum won't work...and NO ice cream, Mommy is eating healthy...don't make me come back there!!!"  And that is where things get weird.  I'm still working out the kinks.  If you ever see me yelling at myself, just let me be, I'm shaping the life of an unruly personality that has never known boundaries.  It's a full time job.

I guess that was about it.  It may actually be possible that  I'm finally making a break-through.  I'm not that upset about Shark Bait's man cold that I seem to be getting.  I'm not that upset about the sink hole that tried to kill me (go sit down Catastrophe Cassondra...) but that didn't seem to damage anything.  I'm just like, no big deal, I got this.  We are gonna be okay.  Maybe it is the lack of sugar I have been eating.  All these years I thought sugar made me happy and it actually took me down to the saddest I've ever been.  Who knew eradicating it would have so many benefits.  Well, honestly, a lot of scientists and health freaks knew about it, but...chocolate...you know?  What was I supposed to do?  Just give it up?  Turns out the answer is yes.  Just as long as nothing makes me give up my ponies.  I gotta draw the line somewhere.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go chug some broth and some zinc and not be bitter about it.

I have this much positive energy to give!

2016 - Seven Things

Well, it's that time.  It's the end of another year.  The last few years I have done kind of a year in review blog, so I thought I should probably keep up with tradition.  I've kind of struggled with what to write about and a friend challenged me to think of seven positive things that happened during 2016 and to write about that.  So, she wants me to do a positive spin.  Huh.  I mean, I can try that...I guess.

Let me think...seven positive things in 2016...

So, I think the year got off to a pretty bumpy start with having to move over Christmas last year when we didn't want to and then having a series of things go wrong shortly thereafter, but I am thankful that we settled in and made it work no matter how many things died under our house.  To date, we have extracted two dead possums and one dead rat.  To be fair, one of my friends, Lula Death Roe, has a husband that is in the "extraction" business.  This dead animal super hero was kind enough to extract the first dead animal for us and I felt the worst must be behind us. However, months later another one showed up. Due to it's location, we we were able to get it out. We sent it back to nature as a warning to the other animals seeking a burial plot under our house and prayed that would be the end of it.  We were not that lucky. Months after the second one we had an unbelievable third dead animal.  Once again, the dead animal super hero came out and got it taken care of.  I am so thankful that Lula Death Roe and her dead animal super hero husband bestowed such kindness upon us and helped us as that is a very expensive thing to hire someone to do.  It is unknown how much longer it will be before death is once again upon us, however, we pray it doesn't happen any time soon. These almost quarterly deaths must stop in 2017.  They just must.

So, that's two things, settling in and the gift of dead animal removal.

Another thing that I am thankful for is that my horses were able to go to my Mom's house in the middle of winter and be cared for.  Even though Mom was already full up with ponies and had no room at the Inn, she took in my ponies as if they were Mary and Joseph looking for a place to have the baby Jesus.  (I may have gone a little too far with that analogy but it was a pretty big deal to me.) She kept them until the spring and then my good friend Pal-O-Mino said, "bring Lola over and let her be our cow's friend and eat down our pasture."  I took Lola over there and I was able to start riding her more and spending more time with Pal-O-Mino.  I had missed my relationship with Pal-O-Mino very much and now I had someone to ride with and to take me places to ride.  This really allowed me a lot of opportunity to ride. I had missed that so much at the cabin where there was no good place to ride and the ground was so hard during the dry months.  I was very thankful for that.  Later this fall, when I needed to find a place for Scruffy to be, Pal-O-Mino took her in as well and now Scruffy will get to be her son's horse.  My heart could not be happier that both of my ponies are safe and sound and again I find myself grateful for the generosity and friendship I have with Pal-O-Mino.

I think that counted as two things, so that brings me up to four.

This year has involved a lot of depression, a lot of hopelessness and a lot of giving up.  I am thankful that I have a loving husband, even if he has no idea what to do with my hopeless self, he is here, always. I am thankful for all of my family and friends.  The amount of support I get from them is truly unbelievable.  Without them, keeping my head above water would not be possible.  I don't know what I do to deserve their undying support, but I never take that for granted.  The are truly amazing and appreciated.  They get me.  No matter how dark the day or how negative the post I may put on FB, they get it and they are along for the ride without complaint. (I mean, sometimes they message Shark Bait and ask if I'm okay, or if I've lost my mind or if I need to be under surveillance...) Some of the people I have become friends with on the book of the face I have never even met in person, but somehow, we have created a kinship that is supportive and caring.  I mean, sure, some people are just here to read about when I am stuck in the bathroom in stall number one with my bracelet stuck to my tights on my butt as I'm tucking things in.  Other people want to know when I take a pair of scissors into the bathroom and cut off an FCD.  Sometimes people just want to know when something dies under my house and stinks for weeks, or when my dog does something cute or when I mock Shark Bait for doing something naughty.  Whatever the reason, I'm thankful you are here.

I'm pretty sure that being thankful for Shark Bait and for my family and friends is two things, that brings me to six.  I've got to pick one more thing I'm grateful for in 2016.  My job? My health? My dog? My ponies? I mean, yeah, but this last thing needs to be the icing on the cake, right?

I think the final thing I can be thankful for in 2016  is that it showed me that giving up and losing hope is not the answer to get where I want to be.  I have read over some of my past year in review blogs and there were times when I had hope, there were times when I realized some success, but there were many times I doubted myself.  Doubting is a self-fulfilling prophecy. I was not confident the weight loss surgery would work. I was scared it wouldn't.  I was worried what I would do if the weight came back.  Well, lucky me, I have the answers to those questions.  It's time to regroup. I'm too old for this crap.  I don't know how many tomorrows are left and I can't continue to waste it in the hopes that someday it will work out.  I get pissed at all those memes with all that positive bullshit about believing in yourself and trying hard and not expecting things to work out unless you do the work and all that crap. I mean, who wants to hear that?  So much positivity, blech. But, the one that makes the most sense to me is, "You can't start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one."  I've  been doing a lot of re-reading, unfortunately. That and Cosmo magazine.  I still haven't figured out the perfect smokey eye or where that one spot is everyone is talking about...

Someone said to me recently in a pretty intense conversation, "Cassondra, you need to stop thinking about how you don't like your hair, how you need to lose weight, whether you like your job or not, how much money you do or don't have and start thinking about and being thankful for what you do have. People aren't wrapped up in the things you don't have, people don't see you like that and it's time you start thinking about the things you do have and find joy in that.  You are so wrapped up in what you don't have, you can't see what you do."  Ouch....but on some days, maybe many days, that is true.  What if...what if I  try something different this year?  What if I try and give a little positivity a chance?  I've said it before, but maybe I try a little harder.

Maybe I'll start making memes of my own! Maybe my memes will become as popular as that mother trucking freaking Squatty Potty unicorn shitting rainbow ice cream cones.  I'd like to be thankful for no one posting that damn thing to my wall again. Please.  I can't even look at rainbow sherbet anymore.