Friday, March 29, 2013

Seeing is believing

Just when you think you've seen it all, you encounter the following:

  • A roving pack of cops on bikes. Seriously, there was a pack of them and they were roving the streets.
  • A chick with a tattoo of the name "Chucky" on the side of her neck. Now, don't get me wrong, I have 3 tattoos and am fully planning on getting more but can you see all the wrong going on here? First of all, neck tattoos smack of ghetto to me. Maybe that's me just being a judgemental bitch but come on. Secondly, I can only assume that this woman got the tattoo to honor her kid but really, who in their right mind names their kid "Chucky"? I don't care how cute your kid might be, when I see/hear the name Chucky, all I can think of is this...
                                           See? This is not good. This is bad...very bad.
  • And the last little jewel I have for you is witnessing a forklift being driving down a main road. With a dog inside. Backward.

Good stuff, folks. Good stuff.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

A letter to my daughters

Things I want my daughters to know:

Plan for the future but enjoy each day and live it for all its worth.

High school is nothing like the real world. Sure, there are always going to be "popular" people, but in reality, you all get thrown to the sharks. The trick is not to know how to BE a shark or to avoid being eaten by a shark but to know how to swim with them

Be yourself. Who cares about what everyone else is doing. Be who makes you happy.

Take your education seriously. I don't mean for you not to have any fun, but how you do in high school counts. If you intend to go on to higher education, be prepared. Make them WANT you.

Don't let the boys get you down. If a boy can't appreciate who you are and value you as a human being, show him the door.

Stand tall and proud. Look people in the eye. Make them remember you.

Explore everything. Try acting and dancing and sports and school clubs. Listen to opera and swing music. Read biographies and historical fiction and classics. This is how you find your niche.

Keep a journal. You don't ever have to read it but it's therapeutic to write stuff down. Your hopes and dreams and fears and frustrations. Write it down and walk away. It's the journal's problem now.

Keep your friends close. While it's important to have a wide circle of people you are friendly with, it's even more important to have a tiny circle of people you are friends with. These are your "people". Keep them close.

If you don't know "who you are", don't worry. Your purpose will reveal itself with time. And when it does, you are going to change the world.

Don't be afraid to look foolish or to make mistakes...this is how we learn.

Drama bullshit is just that. Bullshit. That's all I have to say about that.

Rock your own style. Set your own trends. You are not a sheep.

Put your family first. Your family will be the ones cheering you on, wiping your tears, tending your wounds. Your family is in your corner, watching your back. We can't fight your battles for you, but you can be damn sure we can be your war council.

Smile. Smile often and without abandon. Not only is it good for you, it makes people wonder what you're up to.

Learn how to say no. Being the "Go To Girl" isn't a bad thing but people can and will suck you dry. Learn your limits and stick to them.

Look for the beauty in people, chances are you'll find it. If you can't find beauty, walk away. Don't let someone else's ugliness drag you down.

Be self reliant. Know how to take care of your car and use power tools. Be financially savvy and business smart.

Be responsible for your actions. Don't pass the buck.

Make people want to model your work ethic. Work quickly, efficiently and with the highest quality possible.

Respect yourself and others.

Never, ever give up.

And most important...Always remember that you are loved.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Pick a winner!

So, I was driving into town the other day and while at a stop light, I happened to glance in my rear view mirror. Behind me were two men in a fairly nice car. Both were big guys, tattooed, shaved heads. I guess some would call them a little intimidating. As I was sitting there, waiting for the light to change, I glanced back again.

I wish I hadn't. Seriously. There are some things in life I wish I could unsee. Things like the pink, flabby wiener of the old, fat guy that exposed himself to me when I was young. Not because I was traumatized, but because he was infinitely unattractive and his weenie was a hot mess. I would also like to unsee my backfat, raunchy beer bellies and hairy, overgrown toes. Oh, and Justin Beiber. But sadly, I don't think any of those things can or will be erased from my psyche, so I guess I will just have to carry on.

So, back to the baldies behind me.

The passenger, who happened to be the biggest and most tattooed...your stereotypical tough guy, was picking his nose. Not just a quick, "My nose is itchy, maybe this will help", but a committed up to your elbow, digging for gold pick.

I almost wished I was a kid again, trying to figure out what was wrong with the saggy, pink wienie.

On second thought, I'll take the nose picker.

Now, I was equally grossed out and in awe of this man. We have all picked our nose (You're lying if you say you haven't and lying is bad. Shame on you!). But I would venture to say that for most of us, our picks are of a utilitarian nature. Dust gets in there. Suicidal bugs get in there. Nose hairs tickle. Sometimes, you just have to excavate. However, as much as this is a necessary evil, I would also venture to say that most of us try to practice discretion. Right?

Not so for Baldy. He boldly sent his finger where no finger had gone before. He was a Pioneer!Huzzah! This is were my awe comes in. I thought about it later and decided that he must fall into one of two camps. He is either thee most confident man on earth who couldnt' care less about what people think of him. Or, he has zero social skills and couldn't care less about what people think of him. But, it gave me hope for pickers everywhere, whether recreational or utilitarian. Pickers need not be ashamed!

So, go ahead Pickers, tunnel right on in there!

 I even have a motto for you, "We Pick but Don't Lick!".

Or maybe, "It's Not Sick To Pick!"

Either way, carry on Pickers. The world just might be ready for you.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Do these x-rays make me look fat?

I was at my chiropractor's office last week and he took some spinal x-rays. At the time, I! I get to see my bones and my skull and my teeth. I could then bring an image into my mind of using those teeth to snarl and gnash things (like math books and stupid people) and could picture myself doing a skeleton lurch around town scaring the hell out of people.

Yes, I have an active imagination.

Anyway, I went back to his office this week to discuss the x-rays and, if needed, form a plan of action for treatment. So, I sit down in front of his HUGE light box with Little Bit right beside me and my mom behind me. Weird? Yes, but Little Bit loves science-y things and my mom was...just curious. So, I'm sitting there, overflowing with excitement! My skeleton! My badass bones, out there, showing off their mad clacky skills! He dims the lights, he flips the switch on the lightbox.

And there is my body. In all its naked glory.

Yes, you read that right. It wasn't just my super awesome skeleton. It was my skeleton plus some bumps and rolls and bulges. As in, my belly flab and fatback. There was even the faint outline of my silhouette. Lumps and all.


All I wanted were my clacky bones and what I got was my tubby skeleton. Who even knew skeletons could BE fat? Not me. Every skeleton I've ever seen was stick thin. A walking skeleton, if you will.

Did you see what I did there? A "walking skeleton"? No? Never mind.

So, I'm sitting there trying to listen to my chiropractor explain what he found but in reality, all I can think about is this...My skeleton has a belly roll. Then I started thinking about the airport. People at the airport are fully aware that my skeleton has a belly roll. AND, have seen the outline of "The Girls". Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that why clothes were invented? So our naughty bits wouldn't be on display for all the world to see? But oh no, airline security can see everything. Belly rolls, fatback, boobies.


Then, to cap it all off, Little Bit wants to know, "Mom, can we take some pictures of your x-rays?"
Why, you ask? She wants to bring them to school to show her class.

Uh, no. No, you can't.

Good times.

Saturday, March 2, 2013

I bend, but I don't break

Do you remember the part in "The Matrix", where Neo fights Mr. Smith for the first time? Mr. Smith is beating the living hell out of him and Neo gets smacked around and knocked down over and over. Then, the turning point...Neo gets up, shakes the dust off and motions for Mr. Smith to bring it on. Because I like you, I have provided the video. Feel free to forward it to about 1:50 and watch the part I mentioned. I'll wait.

Super terrific, right? Well, that's me. Neo's me. Life has beaten the hell out of me lately and for awhile I just let it. But then, I remembered that not only am I not the type of person that is easily beaten down, I'm not the type of person that stays down after a beating. I always get up. Always.

So, I got up. I shook off the dust and said, "Bring it the fuck on."

I did, however make some changes. It's funny how a beating makes you reevaluate your life and remember what's important and what's just junk. Technically, I'm back on Facebook but I have zero interest in it. Perhaps that will change with time, perhaps not. So, if I don't respond to a comment, it's not because I'm being bitchy, I probably didn't see it.

Also, I made the decision to be done with school. I applied for graduation and will be taking part in commencement ceremonies in May. I took a long, hard look at what I was doing and realized that I was trying to be something I'm not and have no desire to be. I thought I was supposed to "be someone". Nearly everyone I know is "something"...a teacher, a nurse, an administrator, an attorney. I thought I was supposed to do that too. I was supposed to finish school so I could be "something". It took a 2x4 to the face for me to realize that I already am the thing I want most in the world to be.

I'm a mom.

I'm a Full-Time Mom and I am not ashamed of that. I'm a mom who is privileged to be home when the kids are home. To volunteer in their classrooms or go on field trips. I know their friends because I'm either at their school every day or their friends are at my house. I'm a mom who doubles as a taxi service for the two of them and however many additional kids I can fit in the car. And you know what? I like it. I like that their friends call me Mom and talk to me about stuff. So, instead of torturing myself through 2 more math classes and then transferring to a UC to complete my Bachelor's, I'm going to finish earning my AA and then I'm going to be completely satisfied with it.

I'm going to continue being a mom and enjoy it without the pressure of being in school all the fucking time. I'm going to help run our business so that my husband can stop working 10-12 hours a day, 6 days a week. I'm going to take care of my house so that it's a calm, safe, happy place for whoever walks through my door, I'm going to write. As in, write a book.

It's funny, all these years I thought I needed to be more and it turns out, I just needed to be me. And when I finally gave myself permission to do that, the world lifted off my shoulders and I could breathe again.

There are still some scary, ugly things I have to get in order and things are in motion to do so. It might not all turn out beautifully, but that's okay. In the Dark Days that may be ahead, I will remind myself that I can do this. I can Stand Fast. I will not break and if I fall, I will get up. I am Neo.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Dark days

I miss the days when the biggest decision I had to make was what to wear or what to make for dinner. I have come to the profound realization over the past week and a half that the normal, every day "problems" that we bitch about and complain to our girlfriends over a glass of wine about are simply blessings in disguise. I would love to complain to Tracy that The Mr stayed out late twice this week to play pool with his boyfriends. I would love to whine and cry that I spend what seems like every waking moment in my car, driving the girls to school or dance or youth group. Yeah. That would be super terrific.

Life at home has taken some drastic turns recently and those turns have had some resounding ripples that I am trying to deal with as best as I know how. I'm sure that when I look back on these dark days, I will say that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. I hope I do, anyway.

In the midst of this madness, I'm taking another math class. We are 4 weeks in and I was lost 2 weeks ago. I just don't care. It's the last class before I graduate (although technically, I need 2 more math classes if I want anything better than an AA) and I don't care. Math has absolutely nothing to do with my major and I can't fathom why I need so much math to continue. And I'll tell you another thing. I'm 36 years old and guess what? I've lived this whole time and have never experienced a single moment where I thought to myself, "Wow, I'm super glad I took so much math and I sure could use even higher math right this very second." Whoever tells you that you use anything above basic pre-algebra in real life, unless math is actually integral to your career choice, is high on crack.

And when it comes right down to it, I don't even really have a great desire to use the fucking degree I'm working so hard to get. Isn't that ironic.

Oh, and I broke up with Facebook and surprisingly enough, I don't miss it. Not even a little bit. I don't miss the stupidity or the drama or the blatant screams for attention. I might let FB woo me again in the future but in the meantime, it can go fuck itself too.

So, readers, think happy thoughts for me.