Deep Thoughts on a Friday Night

I don't ever get homesick for places.

I get homesick for people.

To be wrapped up under the strong arm of my favorite Bear-type friend, who always kept me safe and warm when I was drunk and cold?  I miss it.

To sit down in the middle of a road because Sabine and Dirk were "being mean" to me?  I miss that shit, too.

Laughing til I can't breathe with all of my girls... or talking shit with my boys, knowing that they love me enough to not call me on it?  Miss it.  Miss it all the time.

I'm thrilled that the people that I love have had the sense to develop lives and careers and buy houses, just like I have.  That's good. That's important.  That responsibility and grown-uppedness is part of why I love them as much as I do.

Sometimes, I just kind of wish they'd done it a little closer to where I did it, too.

Why I was late to work and listening to death Metal at 7:30 AM

My morning commute:

Left home: 6:40

1:  At this stop light, the passengers of 2 cars ahead of me got out of their cars to switch vehicles, pretty much entirely. There were 9 people involved.  This took the span of 2 lights to complete.

2:  Dueling tractors on the highway taking up both lanes for 1.5 miles.  

3.  While on the Cross Lake bridge, a blue tarp flew out of the bed of the truck in front of me and plastered itself to my windshield.  My only option was to pretty much stop in the road, throw on my flashers, and wait to be slammed by a Prius or something. Fortunately, a man in a truck zipped in front of me, jumped out, and removed the tarp before I could even get my door open.  Nobody rearended me.

The tarp-litterer didn't stop.

4. 3-car accident caused 2 lanes of 3132 to just...stop.... for about 20 minutes.

Arrived at work: 8:02

Crunchy deep-fried derby girl

I love roller derby. LOVE. I love the skating, I love my teammates, I even love, to a degree, trying to improve the things that I suck badly at, though you would THINK that transitions would have worked themselves out better after 2+ years... but I digress. I love my sport.

Leadership, though... leadership is eating my lunch, kids.  I am over saying I'm a "bad" president.  I'm not.  I've done a lot of good for my league and I know they appreciate it, even though over the last few months I've been a lot less attentive than I should be.

I said all along that I was in for a year then out, just like I said with treasurer before that. My theory on service to an organization is that setting a term limit from the start is smart if it is set in conjunction with your goals for your service.  You set your goal- you have your time limit - then hopefully you meet your goal and you're done, or you don't, and you at least did enough that you did some good to the greater body that you're there to support.

I like a year.  A year means that I might do some good, but I won't do so much damage that it won't be fairly easily undone... and my year is coming to an end, thank GOD.

This? Is me.

I am so burned out. It is not that I don't give a damn, I just don't have the energy for actually utilizing the damn that I give and thus, things get dropped and not picked up.  Presidency has taken an additional 10-20 hours per week on top of trying to be an effective team member, and while I fully intend to continue being of service to my league, I really am looking forward to it being a little more part-time and a little less important.

Hey little sister, who's your Superman?

Bridget and Heebie's wedding was stunning. We knew it would be, and it surpassed all possible expectations.  

Weekend Highlights:

John and I setting aside our "IHATEYOU" because we found a mutual enemy: Codename Pocahontas Boots.

The best Bloody Marys EVER (they're better when they're on somebody else's tab at the rehearsal dinner.)

Our lives becoming a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book without the benefit of suggested page numbers.

Squid wanted to go have a classy cigarette... really. Pinkies up!

Taking Jeanie to Target in pajamas

Cards Against Humanity

Winning card: A windmill full of corpses. Because really- when is that not a winner?

"Goin' to the Fair" Hair

The most gorgeous bride to ever walk an aisle and a groom with tears in his eyes:

a 90 lb bride's bouquet made of edible plants

A 7-year old ring bearer with a black eye and more game than any man I've ever seen on a dance floor

Inappropriate dancing with a Christmas Tree

"Do you have a tuxedo, can you do the Electric Slide?" and other Craigslist postings that never actually happened.

The ladies' stirring rendition of "Love Shack." Rusted tin roof provided by: Jordan

Finding a sunbeam and a friend to lean on like a lizard rock

And throughout it all, we kept our pinkies (mostly) up!

My family is not "textbook" perfect.  

We're irreverent.

Sometimes a little too loud.

Sometimes, it's hard to keep up...

But dammit, this is MY family, and I have never been prouder to be a part of it.

Confession: I read The Rules.

I read "The Rules," once.

This would be back during the last time that I was single, and if my memory serves rightly, my second-first date with my most recent ex was right around the corner (already planned, hadn't happened yet).  I was talking about this with a lady friend who was also single, and she asked with ferocious concern if I'd read The Rules because apparently the parameters of the date- which involved out of town travel and the date having acquired a hotel room in town due to his living in another state- set off great big trumpets of warning according to The Rules.  At that point I had heard of, but not paid attention to them, and the conversation concluded with her loaning me her Kindle copy so that I could read them that very night before I managed to completely destroy my virtue and make some huge misstep that would eventually lead to my ending my days as a sad dowager cat lady.

Can't have that, now, can we?  I read the damn book and thought it was damn fine Sorority Girl Satire, except it wasn't.  Advice straight out of Stepford (or Mayberry, maybe) that included a Rule about not discussing The Rules with your therapist, I left the book mighty sad that men get "The first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about Fight Club" and women get "Always End the Date First."  I also completely ignored the book and things went just fine.

Unlike The Rules, these rules actually make sense.

My friend Cliff posted this article to Facebook earlier this week, and I finally think I GET why The Rules and other such "rules for girls" infuriate me so much.  I won't paraphrase the whole thing - go read the damn article, it's worth it.  I will say that the lightbulb moment for me in the article came with this paragraph:

"When we send the message that resistance is a form of flirtation—a strategic move in the game of love—we romanticize the imposition of one human being’s will on another. The building block of violence. By looking at love and sex as a game, a chase, a fight, we give violence our social permission, cultivate a rape culture, and throw consent out with the bathwater. If, as Rhiannon says “I don’t know means No. I’m drunk means No. Maybe means No. I don’t seem into it means No,” then that should apply to every aspect of the dating experience. Hard To Get and No Means No don’t—can’t—exist together. One lives in a world of conquest and the other of communication. And if you say No when you mean Yes or infer Yes from another person’s No, I’d say you’re not really communicating." - Why I Never Play Hard to Get by Rachael Kay Albers

Admittedly, the "do you like pina coladas?" game is hard.  Finding people that I click with in a way that makes me want to spend quality time with them, doubly so- though some may doubt my formula, I'm actually really picky about the characteristics I require in anybody hoping to hold my attention for more than 12 minutes- friend or lover, really.  So if I happen to encounter somebody I want to date- I'm going to encourage that in a way that I hope conveys genuine interest. It may be awkward, but that's just part of my charm, not part of a "maybe if I'm not busy doing something more interesting" game.  And the awesome part of that? If I'm not interested, I know I'm not sending the same exact signals I send to the ones I DO like... but feel compelled to lead on.  

It'd just be nice if the rest of the broads would quit scrambling the signals.

(every single bit of self control I had went into NOT posting a YouTube video of Antoine Dodson as the conclusion to this post.)

Book Recap: 5 Love Languages

Evil Sara and Bre both told me that I had to read this book.

I've now read it twice- the second time was because I didn't feel like I got much out of it.  I'm not feeling like I actually took that much out of it in the end, but I'm not going to read it again, either.  I think I compare it to the whole "Men are from Mars" or "Chicken Soups!!!" book franchises; there may have been some good content there, once, but whatever there was was watered down and spread out for the sole purpose of selling ALL THE COPIES.

So basically, what I took away from the book is that I'm crappy at determining what other people need to feel appreciated (already kind of had that one pegged) and that I'm righteously needy (ditto).  Just to confirm the latter point, I took the test:

And... ok. I'm not going to say there's not something valid there; those are basically my settings, but it seems to me like I basically ended up with the highest-maintenance personality type available, according to the text. Not necessarily unuseful information, but I'm not going to call it a restorative and awakening process; rather, I just feel kind of like any interpersonal failures have been reinforced by evidence of my own difficulty as a human.

I also reaffirmed my belief that the premise of the Self Help book, more often than not, is to not actually "help" but rather to inspire one to buy more Self Help books.

I've got a huge backlog of books that kind of tread on the "Lunatic, Heal Thyself" path; some recommended, some I just found, but I think that for the moment I'm going to step away from the repair manuals and go curl up in something that actually just makes me feel good about myself, all by itself.  This ought to do the trick, I think.

Happier than I believe...

"Always remember you are stronger than you think you are, wiser than you seem, happier than you believe and more successful than you even need." -- Possibly a Christmas card quote, and I'm pretty sure it was paraphrased from A.A.Milne.

Things for which I am grateful right this minute:

• My hair is good, my dress fits, my shoes are (hopefully) stretched just right, and the wedding present is acquired, if not wrapped.  I've not worked out the Fingernail Situation yet; playing derby doesn't make acrylics a good option, but I'm sure it'll come together.
• ROAD TRIP.  I get Squid, Mouse, Jeanie, AND John in a caravan going to a wedding.  And it only took 4 days and an act of congress to get everybody to agree on a hotel.
• I also get leftovers from Jeanie and John's mom's house, and Bell Family leftovers are the best kind in the WORLD. 
• Evidence has been posted on Facebook that Ray is collecting Hostess Donettes for me. 
• The Dalai Lama is coming to New Orleans, and less than 3 hours after finding out, a plan for attending, lodging, and a zen girls' weekend had already pretty much been formed.
• WFTDA released the new rules set.
• Cowboy Mouth's newest album finally hit Spotify (favorite track: When it Rains)

• Subway's salads are $2 if you buy them in the morning (I don't understand, but I do not argue).
• This

All in all? That makes for a pretty damn happy Tuesday.

I went to BAM and all I got was this pressing desire to take over the world...

We're not going to talk about the dislocated shoulder that put me getting on the road like, 4 hours later than I'd hoped to. It worked out and I did get the car loaded, and things worked out just perfectly so that I could ride with Jeanie (after she and Marcus pretty much did all the work of re-loading my car contents into her van).

We arrived on site and were promptly given an 18-year-old boy to do our bidding and get our camp set up. Yes. There were an AWFUL lot of erection jokes, but even in the dark we got it done in about 15 minutes, give or take:

SO MUCH ROOM!!!  You're seeing about half of the tent...

Why did I use this picture? Because Heebie's hand is in his pants.

I got home at about 6:00 last night, and was in bed at 7:30.  With a salad... because I couldn't decide if I wanted to eat spinach or sleep.  Overall, an amazing weekend with some of my favorite friends, beautiful weather, some great napping, and so much good food that I'm seriously thinking I need to be a vegan for a week or three to do penance for it...and also to see about maybe getting myself into peak condition for the season ender on Dec. 8.

This video is entirely Dylan's fault.

Let's see if we get flagged for adult content now...

So, I have a new tent.

Soulpads by lanternlight

I'm going camping this weekend, and I've never actually set up my tent myself since I just collected it from the seller last weekend.  YouTube wasn't much help, but it was full of "erection" jokes.

This is what happens when you buy a hippie tent, I suppose.

I took the problem to Facebook.

First, I got Helpful Advice:

Then we all got a bit silly...

Then people got helpful:

And stated the obvious.

I'm now officially not worried about setting up my tent.  It sounds like I'll have an audience for this endeavor, which just makes for all the more hands to put to work.

I'm so grateful to have a chance this weekend to go camping with 500 or so of my favorite people.  I need a good nerd holiday.

On the jacking of lumber and other indoor sports...

I get that not everybody is still as in love with their hair bands as they were when hair bands were the it thing.  Seriously, I do get that.

I am extremely grateful, though, that in Shreveport Louisiana there are enough people who ARE still in love with their hair bands to make an exceptional concert experience happen on a Tuesday night and still have the feel of a Saturday.  The band is the important part, but without the WOOOHOOOO girls in their tight jeans and big hair, the drunken jackasses with their Coronas and ALL the leather bracelets, the experience would be lacking.  Sadly, I didn't capture any of that beauty; seeing as I was pressed to the railing between Bre, a young hot couple that actually stopped making out long enough to listen to a song or two, and a tall guy who smelled like Old Spice and regret - I just wasn't going to turn around and get any of that fancy stuff documented.  It was glorious, though, and today I'm still amped on the energy, even though my neck is killing me and I very well might have pulled a hamstring.

Mission Accomplished: Derby girls always get in the front row.  It is law.

This is a microphone stand/shotgun. The shotgun is functional. Mind is blown.

Jesse James Dupree is a damned charismatic man. Also maybe a little bit too into chainmail accessories.

This roadie hung out on the back of the stage chewing on his guitar pick ALL NIGHT LONG.

So how close to the stage were we? I turned my head and got hit in the skull by the neck of this guitar. 

What's more awesome than playing the chainsaw as an instrument?

WARRIOR POSE with chainsaw, that's what.

This is Brian Dye. I may be in love.  He's the Happiest Drummer in the World, by the way.

Jesse James and the shirt I'm probably never actually returning to the friend who owns it.

Autographed stool sample. Har. Har. Har.

Songs I expected to hear but didn't:  "Favorite Sin" and the cover of "It's Tricky".

Songs I was happy to hear: All of 'em. Seriously. Most concerts will find me getting annoyed/bored for at least one number, but I didn't.

Next up:  TCK's fundraiser concert on December 1!  6 local bands, 0 chainsaws.

Another weekend in the bag...

The Maker's Fair was not really financially profitable but I think that TCK had good community response, and we may have scored a recruit or two and I spoke to at least 40 people who had no idea there was local roller derby- and now they know.  Good stuff, there.

Then there was the emotional and mental liability of being in a big public space from 6:45 - 4:30.  I did run away with a friend for about two hours to walk downtown and just talk, which I think saved me from a major meltdown, but by the time I made it home, I was about as depleted as I could be and still be in the healthy range.  Mouse got on her way quickly- she was beat, too- and I think I managed about an hour or so of napping.

Evening brought about some derby sister socialness, and then I was thinking I was maybe about wrung out, and thought about heading to the Redbox, but I got an invite to enjoy some downtime at another friend's place -- and after deciding that I was presentable enough to be company, ended up clocking in another few hours of social time, but the really good "emotional food" sort.  Making the gamble with the little bit of emotional reserves I had left was a very good call, and instead of ending the day feeling wrung out and overtaxed, I was happy and content and warm.  

Aside- driving home at 1AM and feeling a bit peckish and curious led me to investigate the Dorito taco.  This is possibly the worst decision I've ever made.  WTF.

So today was spent as Sundays seem to be these days... mostly in bed with a book, keeping one eye on the internet and seeing a little bit of mindless TV.  Laundry happened, a bit of cooking, and absolutely nothing else on my weekend checklist, despite the fact that it was a long checklist that's been neglected and I need to make some progress... but it was good.  I feel grounded and ready for an amazing week... a week that shall include a scrimmage night, Jackyl live in concert, and will culminate in a camping trip that I'm looking forward to heartily but not prepared for in the slightest.

Today's bit of happy:

Serving as stunt-double- Sprint Galaxy II, which is an awful lot like an AT&T Galaxy III, except it sucks.
Also- time to update the Kindle cover, lest I be sending the wrong signal...

I discovered that one of my beautiful but often neglected pieces has a dual purpose.  This gorgeous yarn bowl given to me by Robbin - which hasn't been used for knitting nearly as much as it should- serves as the perfect amplifier for my phone-as-music player, perfect for moving from room to room rather than dealing with earbuds or futzing with speakers.

The Pain in the Ass that is Personal Growth

I like to think that most of the time, I have a pretty good grip on myself.  When I don't, I usually know it. There are certain things, like loud conflicts and people poking me with sticks (literally or metaphorically) that I know put me on the precipice, but I try to be aware of them, and I do ok most of the time.  Some things sneak up on me; I was recently in a pretty impressive depression-pit, and I didn't really figure that out until I looked up.  But- you look up, you figure it out, you evaluate, and you start the process of rigging up your climbing gear and working your way back up again.  I'm not trying to downplay the experience, but that's my nutshell telling of some very deep shit.

So- that's a process, and one in which I've been being very good at practicing self-awareness. I am aware of the landmine field of crazy triggers, and I've been trying to navigate them with moderate to good success.  But yesterday, I quite by accident tripped over a mine that I didn't even know to be looking for.  And when that mine appeared...

I jumped on that motherfucker HARD.

Of course, stepping on a landmine is bad.  It knocks you back down into the pit a little bit, past the progress you already made and down into the dredges of "wait, haven't I already learned this lesson"?  Jumping on it on purpose is worse; not only did you do it to yourself but you knew better.  In a certain state of "no good can come of this," you engage in it knowing that whatever it brings is going to not make things any better.  Your reward?  You were right... but you knew that, and so all you really get is confirmation that you gambled your spot on the stability ladder, and you got knocked down a few good rungs, and you kind of deserved it.

So, now it's at the part to look at the next step.  Clearly, I need to build a fence around that landmine, for one.  Just because it got jumped on once doesn't mean it's dead.  Putting up a fence, though, means that I have to confront the situation that brought me the landmine head on, I have to make a new rule, I have to say "You don't get to tell me these things" and set up a boundary to keep myself safe.

I know it's not too much to ask, but I still hate asking.  To say "I need help from you in this specific form" is something that I have always been deeply uncomfortable with, but I guess this is my sign that I need to allow myself to ask for that help, to be a little vulnerable in making a request rather than to be exposed to something that I know is gonna set me back.

This sucks, so it must be some kind of progress.

Funny... I hate Coldplay, unless their songs are being sung by Not Coldplay.

Ward 4, Precinct 2 at 6:15 AM. I was about #150 in line.

Yep. 6:DAMN:15 AM.  Turns out that when you get a Celestone shot and then take your Purple Drank prescription cough syrup at 8:10, you're comatose by 8:18.  The good news is, getting up early to vote isn't a problem, and you'll even feel good enough to not resent all the other earlybirds.  I had a very "STRANGER DANGER!" kind of moment when the man behind me offered to fix my jacket collar (sweet) then complimented me on the tone and paleness of my skin (aaaaaaaaaand creepy).  I think I said something awkward and went back to reading the Kindle app on my phone.

Civic duty is done; I think I've decided that I'm not going to tune in to the coverage tonight. I hope that Hurricane Sandy's damage and chaos won't mean that this election is called into question, regardless of the turnout.  I'm not in the mood for jackassery today.

My one complaint?  No "I Voted" stickers. I don't mind it so much for local elections, but for the big stuff, I want my sticker.  Next election, I guess I'll order some on Etsy...

"Fell back" on Sunday...

Fell back into bed, that is.

It started with a sore throat, then the fever came.  Shortly after the fever came the telling pressure in the ears...

Another. Goddamned. Ear. Infection.

Eustachian tubes are so overrated.

Tom approves of sick humans as long as their hands are available for petting.

My attempted home remedies included a batch of potato soup, the hottest curried pork and okra I could manage to make, and so many hot toddies that I started wondering if I was drinking them for the tea or the bourbon (I have no Canadian in the house, heathen that I am).

I think I did a load of laundry.  I called Sabine between the 3rd and 5th hot toddie, and I babbled about Kool Aid pitchers, circus freaks, and... oh, hell. Something.  I watched "Seeking a Friend for the End of the World" and I found it to be entirely too sad.  I watched The Walking Dead, and now I'm angry and bitter about T-dog and smug about Lori.

Sick, ya'll.  It sucks.

Thanksgiving Month...

Things Krak and I are grateful for (individually and together, based on IM chats and lovely shared experiences):

* Free Advil in the workplace

* WFTDA.tv

* "Hide this Assole" feature on Facebook

* Corndogs and other State Fair Food

* The Ska Punk Covers Spotify playlist

* @RollingBlackouts

* Jenny and Denise and their incessant cuteness

* Cats

*Instant Messenger

*edited to add -- Cow Fluffers. They exist, people, and we've seen them at work.

But mostly, we're grateful that neither one of us is posting a daily note of what we are grateful for on Facebook, because after about 3 days most people are clearly phoning it in.  Clearly we're bad people.

Counting Money is Number 8...

Electric Eel Shock/Peelander-Z played Shreveport last night.

I make few exceptions for staying out late on weeknights, but I'll do it for music now and then.  I saw these bands together earlier this year, and they were a ton of fun!  Unfortunately, last night wasn't quite as awesome.  An advertised 10:00 set time turned into EES going on at 11:30-ish; I made it through their set and bugged out.  I hear today that my friend Medusa took the stage with Peelander-Z and beat on their bass a bit; I would have liked to see that, but even with two wake up calls and 5 alarms set, I was hard-pressed to make it to work on time, so I probably chose right.

They do an excellent cover of Iron Man, too.

--

I have been really good this election season. I've only engaged in a debate on Facebook once, and it needed to be done, because there's only just so much of people being wrong on the Internet that I can handle.  Let me be clear, though....

I proudly support Not Romney.

--

Guh.  Is it 5:00 yet?

Vampire Hunter to Killer Bee in 4 easy steps

Saturday:

Shreveport Zombie Walk!  It was a blast.  Zombie Hunter outfit consisted of:
My favorite (and only remaining pair of) Doc Martens
Fishnets
Skirt
Cut up t-shirt featuring Disney Princesses slaying their villains
War Paint
Toy Gun
Zombie Head
.30-06 belt buckle that accessorizes any costume worth wearing

Wednesday

Mandatory Fun Day Halloween Dress Up Day at Work
Change the tights...
lose the zombie head...
switch the shirt for one with sleeves (I work in a freezer, I think)
Add bee suit that I stole fair and square 4 years ago.

And...yeah.  Skirt, boots, gun, makeup, belt?  All pretty much identical.  And in case you're wondering -- no, not an awful lot of people got that I was a KILLER bee... just an angry bee with a gun.  *sigh*.