Screw it. Time to put down some roots.

Lots has happened.

I sold a house. Turned 35. Bought a house. My father passed away... there's been family drama, and mourning, and sadness and some words that can't be taken back. I had a surgery. I got depressed and spent a lot of time sleeping, gained some weight, and relied way too much on friends to keep me afloat and remind me to eat.

The entire month of March, and part of April is a complete fog.  I know that things happened and I have some recollection of bits, but for the most part, I retained not much and I don't really think that's a bad thing. 

Today, though... today is May 1.  I don't find particular relevance in Beltane, normally, but I do get that it's the time for rebirth and renewal and fertility and new shit, and I guess I'm at a good place to try to grab onto that, even if it's just seasonally appropriate and not particularly spiritually infused.

This garden is imperfect. There's not a square corner to it (nor is it square to the house).  It's sturdy, and strong, and soon it will have the first part of my spring garden situated in it's walls, just as soon as I get more dirt and peat moss into it and level it out.  It ain't pretty but it will be useful, and I did it entirely on my own, and I find some value in that, even if it's in having done it somewhat wrong.  

The wine tree behind it was a gift from a family who loves me- it got planted last night, too.  I'm looking forward to watching it's blooms.  Hell, I heard rumor that a blue flower might be blooming on it today.

Roots, ya'll.

Words for the sake of words.

So, I'm searching for something totally legit and completely work related earlier, and this happened:

And I thought to myself "damn, it's a shame I don't blog anymore, because I could find something deep and meaningful and funny to say about why America is fat."

And then Krak and I discussed that clearly, after your half pound of weed you'd WANT a half pound burger on a buttered cake bun, because you're fat and high (and it's obviously been long enough since college that neither of us remember that you'd actually be trying to con people into making you ramen, not getting ambitious and baking or cooking)...

And then I gave myself a guilt trip, and here we are, putting something into text and publishing just in hopes that perhaps that action triggers the muscle memory of loving to blog, and maybe then tomorrow or the next day there will be things worth reading.

It is not that I do not have things to say.  I have ALL the things to say.  I'm just maybe not ready to say them just yet.

Don't get me wrong. Nothing particularly catastrophic or deep is going on.  I'm trying to sell my house and have un-hoarded approximately 1/4-1/3 of my possessions, and I do not miss one of them.  For anybody keeping score, though, that now means that if I move into a smaller place than my current 4 bedroom home, I'm still possibly going to have "too much."

I've moved to Shreveport, to a tiny and cozy apartment that will serve as my transitional home between the house to sell and the next one to buy. Once I'm done futzing around in Benton to actually get the place listed and that turns into a matter of "keep it dusted, pay the lawn guy," I'm going to have so much more free time, and I'm going to love it.  I do not love it yet.  Currently, I feel like I'm living through the biggest, time-eatingest, pain-in-the-assiest project OF MY LIFE.

I'm also coming to terms with the notion that "derby girl" is less of a "what I am" and more of a "what I was", though I'm enjoying being a coach, an announcer, and I'm aspiring to ref.  It's just that the whole PCL/MCL thing going on my leg is maybe not ever going to be up to full contact again unless I want a surgery, and I don't.

And maybe one day I'll talk about those things.  Here's hoping.

The Dalai Lama; Musical Events # 19-21; A Very Long Nap.

A quick glance at my Google Calendar tells me that I REALLY dropped the ball on updating the whosits and whatsits of where I've been and what I've been doing.

Oops.

Last weekend, Krak, Nate and I headed to NOLA for two days of public talks by the Dalai Lama.  For the most part I left the phone ignored so I could try to be present in the moment, and for the most part, it worked.  I did not get dozens of blurry photos of maroon robe and shiny bald head, but I don't think anybody is sad about that.  I did get a wall hanging from the Drepung Monks which I have yet to get put up in my office.  Aside from the talks, the weekend featured some DAMN fine food and friends and a lesson in learning the New Orleans Transit System as we decided to stay on the West Bank and take busses/streetcars to get around.

Salt N Pepper - I'm pretty sure this is a converted convenience store.  We had some AMAZING Indian food.  Nate ordered the Chicken Masala and the sauce was toe-curlingly good.  I had a religious experience with some goat (not A goat, which would be an entirely different situation).  I do not remember what Krak ordered but it was delish as well.  They also feature gyros and pizza, which we did not try.

So, that was the pre-Dalai Lama meal on Friday.  Then there was the talk, the navigating of the bus lines back to our hotel on the West Bank.  Shower. Nap. Sent Nate and Krak out on supersexy date night and got myself ready to go out with a great friend who first took me to Jagerhaus and then to ALL the fun Quarter places, including the Carousel for random drink roulette and Fat Cats(?) for a band and dancing and beverages and it was nice. The band was fun. No clue what their name was, actually, but they were enjoyable and we were there for several songs, so they make up #19 on this year's list --- Random New Orleans House Bar.
Home again for a 4-day work week, and then....

#20

Black Flag/ Good For You/ Mind Spiders

Shit, kids. I was NOT prepared for this.

So, I went into this tired. Didn't sleep Thursday night, loaded into the car with Misti, Eric, and Zakk (three of the 4 Rusty Shacklefords), drank ALL the caffeine and wore not the smartest boots.  Despite feeling like we were "running late" we weren't. We got to the venue in time to get in, buy merch, have a beer, and leisurely wait for the Mind Spiders to take the stage.  We established our spots on the railing and enjoyed their show.  They clearly had a local following present and they were good but I can't remember anything that especially stood out.  

Good For You is- and I didn't know this going in- the same exact lineup as Black Flag with the exception of Mike Vallely as lead vocalist instead of Chavo.  Also, Greg Ginn plays a theremin as well as the guitar, and now I want a theremin.  I'd not heard a peep of Good For You but of the three acts, they were my favorite.  Really awesome energy, strong lyrics, and a motherfucking theremin.

So, there's then a long intermission and Black Flag takes the stage, and the shit promptly got real.  I am used to frenzied concert crowds but sweet Jesus, I do not think I've ever dealt with a band with such a HUGE devoted following.  I got very claustrophobic very quickly and was about to hit the wall of "THIS IS NOT FUN", but thanks to the location we were at, was able to kind of sneak behind the stage barrier just a bit.  Fortunately, security was unconcerned-- they were busy paying attention to the crowd surfers and mosh pit.

OH HAI THERE!

This was an excellent place to be.

---

So, that was awesome, once the "people touching me" thing was resolved.  The ride home was not friendly on any of us; I pulled into my driveway at 4 AM Saturday morning and was doing good to get my shoes off before passing out.

#21- The Second Annual This Won't Suck

Got up and out of the house by 11 Saturday morning and thought that really did kind of suck, a lot, but I wanted to see the opening act, Das Pretzels, as they came from Zwolle and I felt like I should support the hometown boys.  Had the brilliant presence of mind to take a cooler and a case of water, which was pretty much the only thing that kept me from just falling down dead.  

Das Pretzels was good.  Prestor John's all acoustic "guitar and djimbe" set was AWESOME.  Summit Falls, whom I'd never heard of was also really great.  The two touring bands, Blanket of M and End Hits, were both really tight and the End Hits guys were SUPER nice, too.  Zakk and Sam as "The Regular Jerkoffs" were great and talented and fun and did the longest ode to a blanket I'd ever heard.  Goutbrake was as interesting as ever.  Bland and The Bipolaroids were both good but not my speed, exactly, and both of the Rusty Shax sets were awesome.  My ONLY sadness was that the rain ended up hitting about a song and a half into Social Bliss, which are currently high on my list of favorites, and then Midnight Tiger didn't get to play at all.

SO, I ended up limping into my bed around 11:30 that night, and stayed there until 12 hours later, when I had to get up and get human so that I could head to Monroe to run the scoreboard for a scrimmage bout.  I have feelings about that (the bout, not the scoreboard), but they're not ready to come out, just yet.

All in all, an absolutely perfect couple of weekends that reminded me that while I am not 20 anymore, 20 was not NEARLY as much fun as 34 is.

And now we're caught up!

Hard Shit: Still Hard.

Last weekend, I went to New Orleans with some beloved friends to see the Dalai Lama.  Have you ever been in a room of thousands and felt calm and at peace?  I hadn't. I did. It was amazing.  I'd like to say that I emerged from the weekend at one with my inner ZenMistress, but.... no.

I got some cool mental and emotional tools. I learned some neat stuff.  I let myself relax and enjoy the moment and be present, and was able to not worry about the little things that I normally fixate on, like checking the messages on my phone to make sure nobody NEEDED anything.  I spent a few hours for a few days not thinking about who was looking or judging or seeing or doing, just on my own being.  Pretty cool.  I got to have an absolutely perfect evening out with a great friend, and it was good.  Checking out for the weekend, whether in the context of a spiritual zen trip or just in general, was needed.  My edges were getting frayed, and they got a bit smoothed by the getaway.

Upon my return to The Real World, I am more in touch with the reality that I'm not exactly doing ok.  There are certain benchmarks that I keep an eye on of things that are in-check when I am happy and in a good place, mentally.  Things like making my bed every morning, putting my laundry away quickly, not eating junk.  Well, for the most part I am not eating junk but I'm letting other things slip, or I find myself half-assing them.  I have TIME to do things, but I find myself curling up with a cat and a book because that feels like what my body and mind want to be doing, and I don't have the willpower to say "fuck you, body.  Your ass CAN go do some damn packing."  I don't wanna.  Can't make me.

I feel like I am not keeping up with my "to do" list, and that is demoralizing, but at the same time I do not regret that I have been prioritizing people over things lately.  I've gotten to spend time with awesome people and start working on some great projects.  Surely important, but now I'm caught in the struggle between trying to rationalize my Grasshopper vs. Ant attitudes.  I have had a headache since Sunday.  I've got no energy.  I give my energy to social endeavors and have none left for the boring tedious shit I need to do. It's a problem.

So, clearly, "Do what I want to do" isn't working out so well. I'm finding myself feeling guilty, and I'm not making as much progress as I need and want to toward getting ready to sell my house- as in, absolutely no progress this week.  I'm hoping to use the upcoming weekend as a reset and start scheduling my days a little more strictly.  I'll leave time for social things and fun things and curling up with my cat and my book, but I need to treat some of my necessary projects with the same gravity as a work schedule, I guess.

I just want a nap, first.

Whack-A-Mole: Neurotic Edition

Last weekend was rough, ya'll.

It was not without happy moments, to be sure.  I had some of those, to be sure, but I also fell into a pretty ugly cycle of negative thoughts.

* I don't want to be doing this.
* Nobody likes me.
* I am a failure because my knee is injured.
* I am shit with time and money management.
* My taste in music sucks.
* My taste in entertainment sucks.
* My taste in clothing, which I look horrible in, also sucks.

Sometime around Sunday, I got out of the funk.  The ennui, it happens.

You are beautiful, flower. I WILL EAT YOU.

This week has also been rough:

Monday:  Personal conflict and some hurty conversations.
Tuesday:  More hurty conversations, but also some great ones.
Wednesday: Had super fun plans go awry. End result - not super fun, felt rejected, got pissy.
Thursday: Information on the medical front that left me feeling really fragile and upset.  BUT I also had a very good evening despite that.
Friday: COME AT ME, BRO.  Like, seriously. What you got?

So far, I'm not super happy with today, but I am making a concerted effort to be happy with myself despite the fact that not all the circumstances are fun, that sometimes painful things have to happen, and that not all of the people are capable of giving me all of the attention all of the time.

Here's the good part: When I remember not to give up on it, all this "think yourself happy" practice I've been trying to engage in is really working for me.  For all that shitty stuff up there, I have got so many good things to counter.

* I am already getting stronger with my new PT regimen... and my ass is looking amazing.
* At least 3 different people have told me that they love me every single day this week (some overlap from day to day, of course).
* I made 3 new friends this week, and I think they're all keepers.
* I accepted two invites for things to do this weekend, and had to decline 4.
* I have made time, despite being busy and sometimes sad, to take care of myself properly.  I'm eating super clean, getting my long baths and my book time, and cuddling the kitties as much as they want.
* After reviewing my budget, I realized that I'm actually awesome with money, and that medical bills are expensive, and it's going to be ok.  I'm not being a jackass and my expenditures are really quite conservative.
*Tomorrow marks 100 days since I was a smoker. Confession- I did steal a couple of drags from Misti on two occasions. They were awful... but that's the extent of the backsliding.
* In a week, I get to see the Dalai Lama, and in two weeks, it's Black Flag.


It's gonna be OK. Hell, it IS OK, it's just the kind of OK that needs a little extra work.

A Hard-Reset Monday.

On Monday, I got solid confirmation from my ortho that per my physical examination and my MRI results, my PCL in my right knee is in bad shape.  The conservative approach is 2.5 months of SERIOUS PT.  Not "kinda do some stuff" PT-- rather, I've been prescribed a 5-day per week workout regimen to strengthen the leg, get it up to the same strength as the other one, and maybe see about circumventing surgical necessity.

Well, "necessity" is a bad word.  If I just wanted to live a normal, sedentary life, I'd probably be ok. The problem is that I do NOT. I want to keep skating, or at least, being active on a regular basis. I want to continue getting MORE fit, not staying at the same level I am at or degrading in that.  And if I had a different situation right now I may have agreed to the consult... but I can't. I live an hour away from work, and carpooling is not currently an option. I can't be right-leg-less for the 6-8 weeks that I'd be on crutches and immobilized.  It is just not an option today, so all I can do is anything else, which is hard.

I agreed to hang up my skates until my followup in the middle of July, and that broke my heart, but I have a good plan. I am really afraid that this plan may not be good enough, though, and my ortho strongly indicated that without surgery I may not have the opportunity to return to the flat track, but he conceded that we can look at it a little later and see.  First, there's a lot of work.

About 2 hours after that appointment, I got confirmation that the friend who has been trying to work out his financial plan to purchase my house is just not going to be able to do that at this time... and so if I do want to sell it and move into town, it's going to have to go on the market.  I have a good list of the things I need to accomplish to do that.  I need to get about 50% of my possessions out of it, firstly.  Then I need to do some prettification and resign myself to strangers poking around my home. I may need to temporarily re-home my cats, which I'm not excited about at all.  It may be that I end up storing most of my things and, when the time comes to listing it, move into a small apartment for a short while which is a new level of scary all to itself.  I don't know...but I know that first, there's a lot of work.

How do you move them? One at a time.

SO, it looks like the prevailing theme of my summer is going to be "Do Work, Son."  I'm going to have to change some plans to re-route some time and finances, but I can do that. I'm going to have to write lists, and hold myself accountable, and I can do that, too.  I'm going to have to be honest about what I need and what I like and what I've just been hanging onto because it is convenient, and I'm not just talking about my clutter but also things like mentality and drive and excuses.


The only thing left to do now is write the playlist and get to work.

Untitled, and I'm ok with that.

"Fake it 'til ya make it" has made me a much happier person.  Really- IT WORKS!  Want some soundbites? GOT THEM.  "Happiness is a choice." TRUE.  "People are just as happy as they make up their minds to be." I believe it.  Parrot that stuff repeatedly to yourself or whomever will listen and eventually, you will start to mean it, you'll believe it, and you will be happier than you used to be.

Sometimes, though, a girl just needs a good wallow (or "waller," in the proper dialect of my homeland).  Yesterday the entire universe aligned properly to give me the Perfect Storm for a 100% Legit, No-Holds-Barred angstfest.  How so?

• Jury Duty!  You can go home after sitting in the room of bodies with warring perfumes just long enough to get a killer headache, but you have to call in every day until we tell you not to to see if you have to come back.  insider tip: my schedule being up in the air freaks me the hell out.
• Clashing with a friend!  It happens. Friends have to work their shit out sometimes, and it's ok.  Timing is what timing is... and God knows, it's never a convenient time to have a Situation.
• HORMONES.  Just....yeah. Fuck you, kitten. Why are you looking at me?
• TIME TO CRY! Practice was tough last night, and in my crummy mindset it felt like it was a series of tailor-made drills designed to specifically exploit my weaknesses. It wasn't, and I know that, and I knew that then, but I still made special time to have a meltdown... and may have scarred the Coach for life.
• Guess who's not ready for Gulf Wars? THIS GIRL! Seriously, I leave on Friday for 5 days of camping, and I'm SO not prepared.

So, is it better today? Nope. I still have a residual pity-party hangover, but as of noon today, I am going to be actively forcing myself to put it in check as I spot it.    

"To change and to change for the better are two different things."

I skipped observing Lent last year.  I think I thought about it and then I forgot.

This year's contenders were:

No Meat!
No Alcohol!
No online dating!

--

No Meat won.  I'm not worried about getting anemic, and I've done it before (albeit, I've never done it without gluten, so my "easy answer" of a Veggie Delite sandwich just got kicked off the island).

I'm aware that Sundays aren't part of Lent. In the past, I've ignored that and trucked through to Easter.

We'll see how that goes.

A lot of crazy and a little victory.

I'm hesitant to claim victory, but I have to acknowledge the turning of a corner on the way to it, if nothing else.

So- today I had a really great day up until about 7:00 PM, give or take.  Got up, felt great, went out to an SCA event about 2 hours away, and spent most of the day in the company of great people, learned a little bit and laughed a lot. All very, very good things.  The evening meal was amazing and almost entirely gluten free, and there were even extra brussels sprouts.  Around 7, I got ready to leave, and two things happened pretty much as soon as I got into the car:

1. I realized my cell phone wasn't "dying" but was ENTIRELY dead
2. The cellphone charger I keep in my car that's been kind of temperamental for a little while quit working entirely. 

The event site was in the serious-to-goodness middle of nowhere, so hunting for a signal had drained it down.  I had found signal a few times during the day to check for messages, but it was one of those "stand on one foot while waving an arm in a northerly direction" kind of locations.  Anyway- being entirely disconnected caused me a pretty serious anxiety attack once I got into my car.  It's not just an over-inflated ego.  I want my dad to be able to find me whenever, wherever... and then beyond that, yeah, I guess it's ego.  SO- I start heading homeward, but I can't go back the same way I came because it involved about 90 back roads and the directions were.... on my phone.  Instead, I took a longer route through Ruston to get home because I could trust myself to find it without directions (that I have a TomTom in the glove compartment slipped my mind entirely until I was almost home).

Stopped in Ruston, nearly had a meltdown in Wal-Mart's electronics section, found a charger, and the phone started charging. It was so dead I couldn't turn it on for 20 minutes, but still... one step closer to plugged-inned-ness.  A long 20 minutes, but after which I was rewarded with 2 non-urgent voice mails, 5 no-big-deal texts, and absolutely no notifications that the world had ended due to my negligence.  Take that, ego.  Life can go on without you.

SO-- the BIG FUCKING DEAL to this tangent of how crazy I can be sometimes...

I figured out around 2 that I had no new cartridges for my e-cigarette.  

I've been a horrible quitter in the past.  I've "quit" smoking a few times, but mostly with caveats.  I'm not smoking.... unless I'm in a bar, or having a drink.  I'll quit, but I'll bum one when people are standing around after practice smoking.  Or if it's a bad day, or I'm sad, or I'm anxious because my electronic leash went dead.  I did actually successfully quit-quit last year for a very brief time, but it's never stuck because I've been weak about it, or I wasn't ready, or whatever.  I'd kinda-quit, but I'd cave at the first time an opportunity presented itself.  So, when my last cartridge completely gave up the ghost approximately 2 minutes after I got into my car tonight, that was the perfect moment to stop at a gas station and get a pack- after all, it was an anxious moment and I'd NEED it, right?

The option didn't even cross my mind, not once.  I dealt. I listened to my music and I chewed on a straw (and, ok, I sucked on a dead vapor cartridge, too), but that I could have just stopped and gotten actual cigarettes didn't occur until I was home.

I'm still scared to call myself a non-smoker, and I probably will be for a long time.  I'm very proud of my little success today, though. 

Ink, Touchiness, and "Fuck Yeah Louisiana!"

The state bird of Louisiana is the Brown Pelican.  The state flag of Louisiana has a pelican, too.  The official state nickname is "The Pelican State."

Shouldn't have been surprised when my new tattoo was immediately Facebook-named "Fuck Yeah Louisiana!"

Work in progress. I had to tap out at 2 hours.

While I live in Louisiana, the symbolism of my birdy has absolutely jack shit to do with the state. I like where I live, and I consider myself to be "from" here if I'm from anywhere, but I'm just not patriotic in that sense.

In the SCA, the highest recognition one can receive for service to the organization is induction into the Order of the Pelican.  I was inducted in 2007 and have been thinking about a tattoo to represent not only that accolade but my love for the organization and my appreciation of how much it's meant to me for well over half my life.

Aside from that, I have also long looked to the image of the pelican in her piety (she's piercing her breast to feed her blood to her young) as a spiritual, social, and personal reminder to try to be better, and to find gratification in acts of service even if it's uncomfortable.  It's ok to give parts of yourself away, and I work well with visual imagery... losing a few drops is nothing to her, but it means an awful lot to her chicks. Even though I have the maternal instinct of a stapler, I get that. It works for me. It helps me when shit gets tough.

SO.... I'm trying to take the good-hearted ribbing about my attachment to my state bird in stride instead of rolling my eyes and getting too horribly defensive.  After all, if I am going to brand myself with a representation most of my friends would consider to be a state thing, I should expect that, right?  And anyway- I didn't get it put on for anybody but myself, and that's what matters here.

"I ain't here to impress nobody"-- Achievement Unlocked.

First-world problems.

I don't write very often when I'm content, nor do I write when I'm depressed.  I'm not sure it is possible to be both concurrently but I have been feeling a nagging sense of ennui with absolutely no time to spin around twice.  My bed is being made every morning and my kitchen is clean, both signs of "I am a Happy Person" for me.  I'm getting a new tattoo tomorrow; one I've been mulling over since 2007, and I am super excited about that.

I am BUSY. This weekend, I had social funtime with 2 groups of people as well as two individuals, but I also had time to curl up with a book and a movie, as well as to knock items off of my "to do" list around the house.  This week, I have busy evenings, but one kept to myself for nobody but me.  This coming weekend I have at least two social outings with people I adore.  GOOD THINGS, they are happening for me.  I am not worried about money, health, or whether or not I am valued.  My knee is feeling great and my skating feels strong, and I don't need to sit out of half of the drills at practice for fear of reinjury.  Overall, I feel quite sane. I remember to take my vitamins. I'm still not eating gluten and my body is feeling wonderful.  I'm remembering to do my PT, my balance exercises, and a few extra planks just because I can.  I have stressors, but they are minimal.  

I think I am doing a good job of taking care of myself. I'm sleeping enough, not eating junk, considering my own feelings before I get involved in anything. I'm practicing good awareness, which might be why I'm so flippin' confused about my general state of mind, today.  I am freaking ANGSTY as hell, and I have no reason.  I'm not responding to a damn thing.... I just have a constant growl in my throat and I'm surly and bitchy.  Not just today- this week. Last week. Possibly the week before.  Not consistently, for sure, but more often than I'd like.

First world problems, first world answers.  I went and found myself a book on meditating on happiness and gratitude that came recommended from a happy chick I know, and I'm going to brain myself out of my funk starting tonight.

First show of 2013 - punk night at the Rustic Cowboy

The Rusty Shacklefords, Social Bliss, and Prestor John
1/5/13 
The Rustic Cowboy, Keithville, LA

True story, as discovered when I was discussing this show via text earlier in the week- my phone autocorrects "Keithville" as "Amtyville."


The Rustic Cowboy is about as appropriate as a bar name can be.  It's very, very rural.

It's the sort of bar where the bouncer will tell your friends that he's a Neo-Nazi like it's not a bad thing. It's also a bar with a killer setup.  I've heard all three of these bands before and haven't heard any of them sound so great.

The Rusty Shacklefords

Social Bliss

Prestor John

So, my final review is that the sound system is amazing and some of the staff is awesome, but it's still kind of unfortunate that Bob's Country Bunker (sans chickenwire) still has a home in the 21st Century.  A few of the natives were fine, but an awful lot of them had the Amityville vibe.  I wouldn't go back alone, to say the least.

Medusa and I also got to spend a little bit of time discussing whether or not we wanted to make an honest go at trying to get a One Billion Rising event going with a deadline of 2/14, or if we wouldn't be better off trying to start on that for next year while looking at a Slut Walk for later this year.  I am mildly concerned about being able to get permits and such for the latter, but we both think that since it has had more publicity and people have at least HEARD of Slut Walks, we might be able to get some support.

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.

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.

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.

The stairs creak as you sleep... or maybe it's that exploding munitions bunker.

So, about 11:30 last night, right as I had finally gotten nestled into the good sleeping arrangement between cats and pillows, there's a BOOM! and pictures fall off the wall.  This morning, I see this and the corresponding conspiracy theories... and I'm a touch floored and extremely amused.  The Cover Up story is that a bunker full of ammo exploded?  That's a lousy cover story.  In my way of thinking, you use the asteroid to cover up "we done exploded a bunch of ammo," not the other way around. I love Louisiana.

--
In the past few months, I have seriously seen my abilities as a skater improve. I'd hit a plateau for sure- and I've been pushing past it.  My endurance is stronger; my agility is improving.  I credit this to a number of things; when I came off the Nocturne trial this summer, I was starting back at barely better than "Fresh Meat," and I think I had some time in that break to un-remember some bad habits.  We have a new coach- and her style of instruction is good for me.  The addition of a weekly off-skates practice has allowed me to really do some good work on my weaknesses.  I'm practicing better awareness; awareness on the track, awareness of my body, awareness of my teammates' strengths and weaknesses, and how to supplement them.

All of these are good things...

If only I didn't feel like I am possibly causing damage to myself in the process.

It has been a year and a half since I injured my knee.  An ill-fitting 187 Pro kneepad and a concrete floor in Cenla last year resulted in a deep bruise, and since then, my right knee has been VERY prone to hurting more than it should, given what's going on.  A really good hit resulting in a hard knee drop last month is still causing pain. I can shake it off and keep skating- but should I?  I did last night, and a lap or two in it had dissipated, but it sucked like a mother first.  The shoulder that I separated last November is still having moments of aching; most are tolerable, but last week, I had to have it pushed back into it's socket from rolling out a bit, and that's not exactly ideal.  I did go to an ortho and PT for the shoulder.  I was released as being in "good shape" and I've consistently had a full range of motion.  It's possible that it's just going to be an achy shoulder forever.  Or it's possible that it didn't really heal, and eventually it's going to need surgical intervention.  Membership into the bionic rollergirl club is not something I covet.

BUT... I really, really, really want to finish this season out strong, and to be a part of something awesome next season. I am so stupidly proud of my league's development, and I think we've got positive forward momentum and it's only going to get better.  Sure, at some point I'll get myself a set of stripes and pull myself from the roster for good... but I am not ready to be thinking about that just yet.  Instead, I'm going to try to use the research I've done and the braintrust available to me and work harder at developing therapeutic and strengthening offskates work for myself, and see if I can't do myself a bit of good.

So, that's what I've got on my mind today as I try to get the bugs shaken out to prepare for an epic rematch against one of the nicest leagues we've ever played, CDD.

--

One of our new Fresh Meat refs who I have bonded with over music lately says this song reminds him of me. After about 15 listens, I've decided that this is an amazing compliment and I'm pretty happy about that.

"I'm not sure if I sent you that problem, or if I just Tyler Durden'd it."

Figments of the imagination have been on my mind lately, and the quote above was a statement made to me by a client today that completely goes along with some of those thoughts.

Perceptions of actions and inactions, more specifically, have been on my mind- but what's a perception if it's not something you're making up as you go?  I have control of my actions and my words, but I don't have even a modicum of control over what you think of my actions or what I say.  

Tyler Durdening as a verb isn't very nice, is it?  It's crazy. It goes too far.  It goes off the handle with little provocation and it makes a mess and by the time you realize that you're doing it to yourself, you're about to blow some shit up.I know my perceptions sometimes fall into this category.  I can take a simple bit of apathy and translate it into neglect. I can morph polite interest into a kindred spirit.  I can turn nothing at all into something huge... but I can be aware, right?  And maybe by being aware that I sometimes react in a big way, I can keep in mind whether or not those reactions are proportionate to their catalysts.

Slightly related but not entirely, EvilSara has encouraged me to read the Five Love Languages, which I have to admit is coming off as very "Chicken Soup for the Soul," but I am reading it and trying to keep an open mind, because I love her, and... well, it was time for a break from the vampire fiction, anyway.  

--

Playlist inspired by the TCK bout in September against Northside Fury, who beat us by two points and has signed our dance card for next Season already:

Music To Punch People By:

Break Stuff - Limp Bizkit

Somebody to Shove - Soul Asylum

Bound for the Floor - Local H

Master of Puppets - Metallica

Faith - Limp Bizkit

Killing in the Name - Rage Against the Machine

Headstrong - Trapt

Bodies - Drowning Pool

Down with the Sickness - Disturbed

I Don't Wish You Were Dead Anymore - Bowling For Soup

Don't Start No Sh*t - Mia X, Master P

She Hates Me- Puddle of Mudd

ATTACK- 30 Seconds to Mars

I wanna be Your Dog - Dakar & Grinser

Remember the Name - Fort Minor

Always Something - Cage the Elephant

There's a War Going on for Your Mind - Flobots

Punch You in the Jeans - Lonely Island

Az Unity - Bass Blak, ME, Jae Lei

Here it Goes Again- OK Go

We Hate Everyone- Type O Negative

Handlebars - Flobots

Mother - Danzig

Damn! Feat. Lil' Jon - Youngbloodz

DOA  - Foo Fighters