With free advice, you get what you pay for...

So, some time back (in 2011, to be specific) I was soliciting my SmartGirls for blogprompts and Peeps sent me a few. I promptly didn't use them, but here's one now!

Peeps asked:

I would love to see a breakdown of times when it's ok to get trashy and times when it's never ok to get trashy. I mean like dress and manners and dancing that is definitely not ballroom. I need help letting my hair down from time to time, and other people need help pinning theirs into a tidy chignon.

I am not choosing to interpret this as a "how do I dress up from work or dress down for a nightclub" question.  Cosmo, Glamour, or any other chick magazine have you covered there.  I am assuming, rather, that you want to know when it is acceptible to break out the stripper heels, the fishnets, the cleavage-enhancing bra and the red lipstick - ALL AT ONCE - and not be judged for it by your peers.

TAKE YOUR PEERS WITH YOU.

It is more fun to be a dancing tramp in a herd. One girl looking like a skank is a warning signal.  Three or more? That's a good time, and there might be a story there.  If the non-skanks in da club ask what's going on, have some fun with it. Tell them that in honor of the 20th annivarsary of Married with Children's debut on Fox, you decided to host a Peg Bundy Appreciation Party.  Or actually host a Peg Bundy Appreciation party and forget needing a good story.  Write your own... then send me pictures.

As to "when not"?  We're grownups.  I prefer to consider whether children or "normal" grandparents will be present.  If the answer is yes, then the answer to the SkankGear is "no."

"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it."

Title credit: Mark Twain


A friend told me about mindbump.com, a generator that provides random user-submitted blog-prompts. This is far preferable to the "write every day" prompt sets I've found... I don't want to tell you about my favorite piece of furniture, or take you on a verbal tour of my pantry, or photograph the contents of my fridge.

So anyhow- today's prompt... 

"You get to plan your own funeral.  What flowers do you want, and what songs do you want played?"

Maybe it's because I have always worn way too much black, or maybe it's because I have a disease that makes a habit of knocking people off young, or maybe it's just because I'm a forward thinker in some departments - this isn't even a hard subject for me.  I've got this nailed down, and the people who need to know about my wants and wishes either already have the info, or it's prepared for their use when they do need it.  The concept of death isn't quite as scary to me as the concept of dying without having my shit together; analyze that for what you will.  All that being said- don't you DARE interpret this as any kind of "sign" or need for action... I'm doing well.  I'm not sicker than I let on, and I have no plans of this being needed anytime in the near future, k?  K.  I'm just trying to write more, and not about things like housecats or diet plans.

So... flowers.  I don't care about what they are, or their colors. I care that they're live, because live flowers are some of my favorite things in the world, and I prefer that they're not roses- because roses are stupidly expensive because of the cultural sentiments attached to them, and you can have like, 70 daisies instead of 12 roses, and wouldn't you rather have 70 daisies?  Roses have a time and place, for sure... but not at my funeral.  Seasonal and fragrant and pretty are what matters.

Slide show!  Oh, absolutely.  My life is FUN and has been documented well, thus far, and I'm nonphotogenic enough that the pictures of me floating around out there are sure to get a giggle or two... but as much as I love them, Squid and Mouse don't get to build the slide show since they have the absolute worst of the bad photos in their possession.  Sabine and Sara get that responsibility.

Music?  Yes, please.  The recessional shall be "Pocket Full of Sunshine," because I know that that song elicits the dumbest grins in some of the people that I love the most.  Somewhere in there, "Foot of Canal Street" needs to make an appearance (the Paul Sanchez or Cowboy Mouth version, plz, no offense to John Boutte).  Other than that?  Whatever will make people happy, but no "End of the Road," no "Freebird," no songs designed to increase the sobbing factor.

Eulogies!  Oh.... wow. I could totally write a wishlist for that department.  Having delivered a couple of my own, though, I know it'd be a really crappy thing to do to have personal requests planned out, because sometimes, people don't WANT to go to a funeral, or they're not going to be in the mindset to speak.  BUT- I'm surrounded by wellspoken, flattering, verbose people... and it'll be covered.  Humorous recollections are encouraged.  If my funeral turns out to be a roast at which I don't get to give the final speech, that's cool.  Open mic? Why not.

Of course, I do want to be cremated... and I want something epic done with my cremains.  Scatter them into a fire at the funeral's after party, or take them into the mountains or divvy me up into lockets or whatever... the after doesn't really matter as long as it's done with love, which is pretty much how I think about the whole thing.

As for everything else?  It'll work itself out.  Sara and Sabine get to circumnavigate the depths of my will, mostly by making sure all of my cool stuff goes to good homes and any cats I have at the time live fat, happy lives with lots of sunbeams...

...but that's still a long, long time away.  

In lieu of actual content...

1.) What smell brings you a fond memory?

There is a particular combination of diesel, motor oil, and dirt that smells exactly like every truck my dad ever had when he was still in the oil field.  It smells the best when the truck is slightly warm, and seems to go with vinyl seats and a haze of sheen on the floorboard that will stain the cuffs of your pants if you're not careful about how you get in.  I find that smell accidentally, sometimes, usually when I'm going to look for something in one of our shop trucks at work.  It doesn't bring me a specific memory, but just a general sense of happiness in the wooshing back of my childhood. 

2.) What song makes you nostalgic?

Not that it's the only one, but here lately Possum Kingdom by the Toadies has been making a comeback.  It reminds me of the summer in between my Sophomore and Junior years in High School, when Squid and I worked together at McDonald's and were dating a brother and sister that lived in Converse (Mary, who is still amazing, and Corey, who still looks a little bit like Lyle Menendez).  Between the four of us, I was the one with the vehicle I wasn't sharing with a parent and so the 4 of us spent a lot of time crammed into the front seat of my tiny Mazda truck.  We went to the public landing a lot with our portable CD player, and while I'm pretty sure that it was actually Green Day's "Dookie" album that we listened to the most, I remember very clearly the indignant, loud, 4-way damned argument that broke out over whether or not this song was about vampires or rape.  That fight resulted in one person choosing to walk home and a breakup that probably lasted for at least 3 days (which was a very long time, back then).  Wikipedia says "neither" (where the hell was that 16 years ago?) but I still think it's about vampires.  And I still think Corey was kind of a dumbass for saying rape.

3.) What taste reminds you of school?

Thunderbird with grape Kool-aid. Not that I've HAD Thunderbird with grape Kool-Aid since school, but I can still remember what it tasted like.

4.) Which season makes you remember the most things in your past?

Autumn.  I get super nostalgic around Halloween/ Day of the Dead.  No particular reason; almost every deceased person I miss passed in the summer or winter.  I don't get nostalgic for football or marching band. Honestly... I'm not sure much of consequence has ever happened to me in the autumn but it's still my season for reminiscing. 

5.) Which memory do you treasure?

It's no secret that I have an awful memory but I seem to do just fine at remembering the important ones.  I remember when I met Squid, Sabine, James, and John, all specifically. I don't remember exactly when I met Evil Sara but I do remember lots of memories of her from before we were BFFs and still just Freshmen/Sophomores at LSC.  I remember when all my favorite kids were born, a few extra special first kisses, and more than a few times when one of the people I love made me laugh so hard I couldn't breathe... or started snorting.  So- given that I have such a crappy memory, we'll just say that anything I do remember is probably still there for a great reason.

Questions, Answers, and Love Letters

According to The Internet, March is Question and Answer Month.

I do not promise to answer every question because if you're asking for something like my credit score or home address, that's just not going to happen.  I will, however, promise to answer every reasonable question, even the uncomfortable ones as honestly as I'm able, though I am the one deciding what is reasonable.  Now that the wiggle-room has been installed, go for it.  If'n you want to ask something, I'd love to answer you.
Probably.

--

Apparently, the 10th day of the Month is supposed to be "love letter day". I'm half tempted to accept mailing addresses from people who want an outrageously mushy yet entirely fabricated hand-written and possibly scented love letter.  Is that creepy or awesome?*  I used to have amazing love letter writing chops, back in the day when I was in high school and sending my boyfriends off to Basic Training or jail.  I suspect that I'm taking this idea in NOT THE DIRECTION that Boompoet intended for it to go when he posted his own entry, but he won't be surprised... and I'd kind of like to see if I still know how to write a letter.  We'll see.

--

So, skating in my first bout in 9 days, and it looks like 650 tickets are sold and that doesn't take into account that kids get in free.  HolyShit, ya'll. 

--

The new Dropkick Murphys album makes me very happy.

*No, really. Creepy or awesome? I need a ruling.

Day 13 — A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days.

Dear Fred, John Thomas, Matt, Cassandra, Regina, Jonathan, Sonia, Paul, Vance, and everybody else who has ever gone through the revolving door that is Cowboy Mouth:

Yeah, you're my pick for this one.  It was a toss up, because I've surely been most loyal to Soul Asylum over the years (like, over half my life), but the assignment wasn't for "favorite."

"Life is too short to spend with somebody who doesn't think that you kick ass." - Fred LeBlanc

It's not just that you've got an anthem for every mood I have, from "Bad" to "Glad to Be Alive" to "Friends" and even "Jenny Says," which I've known for at least 12 years and I'm still not tired of.  Those things help, though.  You're diverse.  BUT- You're damned nice people, too. 

"Cause it's a long, long time for you to remember / and that's a lot to ask the things that I do / and it's a long, long time from May to December / any little bit, any little bit will do." - Any Little Bit

You probably don't remember the act of kindness you showed to me and some of my friends, most noticably Beth, when you pulled strings to let us see you at Rabb's, and you even offered her good seating next to the stage, if she wanted it.  Nor do you likely have a clue of how much you touched a group of 8 or so girls standing in your front row the following summer when you sent her a memorial shout-out.  It mattered, I promise.  Chances are that without those things I'd still be a fan but all things considered, I'm a pretty loyal fanatic-- even if you keep changing your damn supporting cast every 3 minutes. 

"Easy to bitch, easy to whine, easy to whine, easy to cry, easy to feel like there ain't nothin' in your life. Harder to work, harder to strive, harder to be glad to be alive, but it's really worth it if you give it a try." - Easy

I've seen you live at least 16 times and I'm still psyched for this Saturday night's show, even if I was supposed to be in Miami and not here. You're a mighty fine consolation prize, though, and I'm wholeheartedly looking forward to watching you burn the mother down at The Warehouse with Dash Rip Rock.

"I'm gonna be bad, and it's gonna feel good. I'm gonna do everything your mother said we never should. I'm gonna be bad, and I wanna be cruel.  I'm gonna try everything they taught me down in Catholic school." - Bad

Much love, and thanks for all the sanity!

Me



This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge .  

"Life is short. Live your dream, and wear your passion."

True Story:

So this morning, I'm Googlechatting with my EvilSara over whether or not something she did may have been a little bit catty (ruling: a little bit, but well within acceptable parameters) and I'm dorking around on Pinterest while reading her story.  I find this card, and link it to her.

Buy this card at holstee.com

The story wraps up, she has to go off to do honest-to-God RealWork, and I tell her that she should tell me what to write about today.  I've got about 5 GREAT questions in my inbox this morning but they're kind of like the really good holiday chocolates that you want to stretch out and savor and I don't want to use one up just yet.  She says that I should share the card.  I decide to turn it into an assignment.

"Ask the next person you see what their passion is, and share your inspiring dream with them."

The next person to enter my office is my favorite manager here at work.  I'm the Queen of All Things Paper and Office-Related and he is the King of Doing The Things That Bring In Money For Me To Spend. We have a great working relationship but we really aren't buddies. So I say, kind of randomly, "Hey, Hogeye (no, really, it's what he goes by), what's your passion?"

He gets a dreamy look on his face, and he sets his coffee down as he stares out the window at the sky for a minute.  This guy is apparently the Master of the Pregnant Pause- I realized I was literally holding my breath.  Finally he looks back at me, setting both hands on the desk and says with the sweetest little-boy voice I've ever heard come out of this huge, imposing manly man- "I just want to shoot deer. Every day. If I could go hunting every single day and bring home a 10-point buck, I'd be a happy guy."  And then he burped.

Due to work happening, I didn't have the chance to fulfill the second part of the assignment but I'm kind of okay with that. "Inspiring Dream?" I don't think I have one.  I can think of many things that I would be happy doing but the truth of it is, I'm really very happy where I am.  I want to end up being a lot of things- a more creative seamstress, a better skater, a more reliable leader- but those things are being cultivated at pretty much whatever pace I set and with as much effort as I choose to give them which is really all I get to ask for, right?  I have everything that I need- from tangible needs like shelter and food and clothing to intangible, like love and inspiration and support and people to yell at me when I need yelling at.  I have a lot of what I want, but I have enough wants left out there that I can try to acquire them.  As far as career passions go- I like my job.  I'm not necessarily doing Great Things and I should feel a little bit guilty about that... but I help run a company that keeps 13 families going, and we contribute to the local economy by hiring local subcontractors and using local materials and dealing with local entitled jackasses on a daily basis, so that's something.  I get to be useful, I get plenty of time to do my own thing when my usefulness is not required, and I work with amazing people, even if all they really want to do is shoot deer.  It probably looks a lot like settling from the outside but it doesn't feel that way from my bouncy-ball chair. 
I think my inspiring dream is to keep being happy, ya'll.

Thank you, Sara!

But nobody ever asks me how to set a table...

I freaking LOVE etiquette.  It saddens me that nobody learns how to set a table in Home-Ec (or finishing school) anymore. The thank-you note is practically dead and the RSVP card is following in it's wake. My friends who love me the most though know how much I like niceties, even if I'm a little bit crass most times.  I actually cried real fat crocodile tears when I discovered that Miss Manners' Guide to Domestic Tranquility was out of print, because then it was necessary for me to find another fallback wedding present and a blender is just overdone.  Every woman should have a book on their shelf that can make them aware of the proper thing to do in a given situation and then she can make an educated decision about whether or not she's going to pay attention. Right? Right.  Anyhow- sometimes, I get great "so what do I do now?" questions, and with permisison (but with identities withheld) I decided to share in the interest of not telling you what I had for lunch.


"A new friend left his toothbrush at my house. It kind of freaks me out. What do I do?"

There are three kinds of morning-after toothbrushes:

The one left on purpose,
The one left by accident,
and the one left "by accident."

If he asked you if he could leave his toothbrush there and you said yes, then congratulations! I'm pretty sure that that's kind of the same thing as having a boyfriend nowadays.  You should probably stop calling him your new friend and work on figuring out what his last name is... hopefully you've got his first one already.

Telling the toothbrush left "by accident" from the one legitimately forgotten is probably only going to be determined by actually saying "hey, you left your toothbrush here" and then gauging whether the response is more "oh, darn" or "oh, you caught me marking my territory."  But really- does it matter? I suggest you put it in a ziplock labeled with his name and drop it in a drawer so it won't be in your way.  That's the most hygienic option. If you end up with multiple toothbrushes in multiple ziplocks, then it might be time to consider your choices... or consider relegating some of those to the trash can.  Or maybe that's the way you roll and if that's the case- I won't judge you! Regardless, don't invite him to fish through the drawer to find his own ziplock. That reeks of lazy hostessing and is the unattractive kind of slutty.

Under no circumstances should you head to your local "paint your own pottery" joint and design him his very own special custom labeled toothbrush cup.  That just looks clingy.  Not that I've ever done that.

Please don't be this girl, either.

"Last year this guy said he liked me, then he spend the next few months ignoring me and hanging all over someone else. Now he's called me and wants to go out. What should I do?"

So last year, did you say "I like you, too?" Did you actually like him too?  In the year that has passed, have you seen him? Been friends? Has something changed about your dynamic? Are you more emotionally available than you were? Is he?

I suck at saying "I like you." Honestly, if I say that and it's not been very clearly solicited with a great big flashing sign with LED letters and possibly an instructional video like they have on big airplanes, then it is time for somebody to pry the bourbon out of my hand and put me to bed because I am just not a forward sort of girl when my wits are about me.  If your gentleman friend said "I like you" and you either:
a) blushed and giggled
b) mumbled "thank you" and changed the subject
or
c) pretended you did not hear him,

then you don't really get to have a complaint with him spending his time with somebody else.  Either grow a pair or miss out.  If this is the case and you botched it, then hey! Thank God for second chances, and go for it. Remember to be a little bit sweet since this guy has obviously been pining for a year and worked up the nerve to try again- and maybe if he says "I like you" try saying "I like you, too." I have it on good account that that has never actually killed anybody... and if it doesn't kill you, let me know. Maybe one day I'll try it, too.

On the other hand, if you owned the situation the first time and let it be known that you were interested, then he does not get a second swing at your pinata.  To quote one of my favorite musicians, "Life is too short to spend with somebody who doesn't think that you kick ass"(Fred LeBlanc).  People oops and make mistakes but if there was an understood "we dig one another" and you got no closure then it really doesn't warrant a second chance.  Sure, there could have been a weird situation there. Maybe he got back with an ex, or maybe somebody else threw themselves on his grenade before you did. It happens... but considerate people at least explain what's going on to their potential suitors.  He may not be a bad guy but if he left you hanging, he wasn't thinking of your feelings then and chances are, he's not going to start now.

 
So, that's me. Now I'm going to go back to inundating my derby girls with emails about the upcoming parade and about eleventybillion "Wouldn't it be cool if..." ideas that seem to be breeding like bunnies. Bunnies in fishnets!

Prompted: Day 10 — Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

I'm like Mr. Brownstone, you know, from that Guns n' Roses song, but without the heroin. 

I'd have to say that the thing I get compliments on the most is my ability to work my network effectively to fix a broken situation.  Broke down on the side of the road? I can find you a ride. And a mechanic.  And entertainment while you wait. And a pizza.  You're planning a major event and half of your major staff just got the flu? I got this.  If you end up in jail, you'll have to pay the bail back... but chances are good, I can find you somebody nearby who can help you with that situation. 

I have, more than once, gotten credit for being some magical entity that just knows how to find peoples' asses for them, but that's not always legit.  I know that I'm an effective leader and I'm great at organizing. Those aren't even really up for debate, but I'm still often not the one who is actually personally engaged in the act of finding your ass for you if you solicit my assistance.  EvilSara has referred to my ability to manage people in chaotic situations and convince them to do what I'm asking as my Jedi Mind Trick, and maybe it is... or maybe I'm just ok at figuring out who's good at what and assigning them thusly. Either way- that's what I've got.


This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge .  

Prompted: Day 09 — Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.

I have a few people I could name here, and call out on my little chunk of the internet that they're not going to ever see, anyway.  There's a couple of asshole exes.  There's that boss that I had in Dallas who not only made me miserable, but made my dad lose a metric buttload of money.  There are bullies from my childhood and teen years, there are boys I crushed on that weren't bright enough to reciprocate, and there are girls who were friends I trusted but stabbed me in the back.  These people exist.  They exist, but they really don't matter anymore. They did, once, but I'm over them... and I don't want to give them power by calling attention to them again.

I could probably be a good recipient of this subject, too.  I fully know that I've long since been one of those "my own worst enemy" people, but I'm trying really hard to let go of beating myself up.

I've already said that I don't have anybody that I need to forgive... and if I drag up old shit just for the sake of meeting a challenge, I'm defying the nature of that statement, one that I really do hold to be true.

So.... pass.  I'm not doing this one.  Neener.


This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge .  

Prompted: Day 08 — Something you hope you never have to do.

I hope I never have to go on dialysis.

Having a disease that doesn't do much of anything is weird. Granted, I'm HAPPY that my PKD is not up to anything lately, but it's a strange place to be.  Two years ago, I got the reality check of "if you do not do something drastically different, you're going to end up needing a transplant. It won't be today, or tomorrow, and it might not be for 20 years, but it will happen."  So, with that as one of my primary motivations, I've done a passable job of trying to get my act together.  I've lost weight and gotten active.  Some of my vices haven't made much progress, but as of my last visit with my nephrologist, I'm 110% better than I was.  And now? My evaluation is "well, you could still end up needing a transplant. This is a funny disease, and there's just not any way to tell if it is going to get you or not, but you're doing everything you should be. Have a great day!"

Soooo... lose weight. Don't have kids. Don't eat meat as much as I'd like to, and it MIGHT do some good. Or it might not.  The good news is, if I ever did need a transplant, I'm in way better shape now which makes me a better candidate.  My system is healthier, my muscles are stronger, my kidneys are easier to get to (I can feel them when I poke! It's creepy!).  I have every reason to believe that things are better than they were. Where I was having cysts rupture every month or so, that's tapered way down and seems to have more to do with when I get worked up and my blood pressure fluctuates as a result than to do with the fact that I'm not a healthy person.  It's good.  Really good, even.  Where a few years ago my physician was trying to figure out what clinical trials he could get me into, now he's not worried about it, because I'm at 100% renal function with no failure evident whatsoever.  That could change, though, and for no reason other than it's an unpredictable disease and sometimes it just decides to progress and usually when you're in middle age... and hey, look! I'm kinda sorta there now, aren't I?

I know, logically, that my life with this disease is not going to be the same as my mom's was. She didn't know she had it until renal failure was already so far along that it couldn't be undone, and she still had another 10 years after that, despite being in poor health to start with. Despite having had two kids. Despite being over 100 lbs overweight... so I have no real reason to be afraid that I'm going to end up where she did.  I'm being monitored annually.  If I even start declining a little bit, there are things that could be done to make it slower, make it better.  Even in a worst-case scenario world, dialysis technology has gotten better, and it's not nearly as bad as it was 10 years ago... but the fear is still there.  I do not want to be tethered to a clinic or a machine that I rely on to stay alive.  I don't want to actually take in all of the offers of "sure, you can have my kidney."  And really, right now, I don't have to worry about those things because all of my data says that I am just as healthy right now as anybody without the same condition but the fear is still there.


This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge .  

Prompted: Day 07 — Someone who has made your life worth living for.

Damn.  This is hard.

I thought about going with an author or philosopher, somebody good and noble, like Mother Theresa or Ghandi... but that's not very fair.  There are lots of words and books and songs out there that have made my life a lot better, but "worth living for"?  That's a stretch.  But I have a lot of humans in my life that really have, at some point or another (or many) made my life worth living for... too many, in fact, to list them all.  I'm lucky like that.

So, by virtue of Time Served- I'm goin' with Squid.

In the 4th Grade, I came home from school one day and informed my mom that I'd met the boy I was going to marry one day.  True story.  He was tall and lanky and smelled good, and had shaggy bangs, and I didn't know much about him at all other than his name was Jonathan.  Didn't matter- I was smitten.  I think I remained that way for all of about 2 weeks, and then we became friends of sorts.  As the middle school years passed into the teenage years, we evolved and evolved and evolved.  I'm pretty sure he was my first "stay up all night talking on the phone" buddy.  He introduced me to D&D. I taught him how to drive.  Embarrassingly, I still have the notes that we passed in class the day after I lost my virginity, and he still has the ones that were written after his, a few months later.  There was some awkwardness around the time we were 16 where we decided that we were going to be a couple ourselves, and there was an amazing summer when we both worked at the same McDonald's and we were dating a brother and sister that lived in the next town down the highway.  We listened to the Lost Boys Soundtrack nonstop for at least 2 months, and I'm positive that we both still know all the words to everything Bon Jovi did before 1996.  We drank a case of Boones' Farm and woke up in a scary place.  We joined the SCA at the same time, and we were road-trip buddies for years.  Our minds were so in sync that he knew when to grab the wheel because I had a phobia of bridges I couldn't see the end of.  He dated my college roommate for a few years, and then my suitemate, and a year-and-change ago, when he got married- well, of course it wasn't to me. That's not the niche we're supposed to fit into with one another, and I was honored to be one of his attendants. 

Squid and I have gone months without talking to one another, and we fall back into sync without a falter.  And yes, when Shit Got Real- we have had one another's backs.  We've nursed each other through heartbreaks, deaths, hangovers, and Bad Personal Decisions, and we don't keep score... at least, I don't. He probably has the right to, because I'm sure he's fixed me more than I've fixed him, but that's ok.   

I can't explain how very comforting it is to have somebody that has seen me at my worst... my "bad 90s hair days" and my "flannel as a fashion statement" era, my "I'm sooooo in love" and my "emo as hell" and still love me pretty much unconditionally.  And that level of comfort, of knowing that somebody has always had your back and by virtue of habit, loyalty, and sometimes blind faith always will, it's something that makes you brave, and with the kind of bravery that gives you the confidence to do what you have to do even when you can't think it through as thoroughly as you should first.  I can't imagine having made it this far without my most reliable of all of my safety nets... and I figure that if you can't imagine living without someone, then they have surely made your life worth living for.


This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge .  

Prompted: Day 6 — The reason you believe you’re still alive today.

I told you I was gonna go out of order.  I wanted something a little bit happy, so I decided to go with this one today.

I am certain that I'm alive today because of medical technology.  Better Living Through Chemistry is not a joke in my world, for sure.  Had I been born 100 years before, or even 50 years before I was, I strongly suspect I wouldn't have made it out of my childhood.  If I did, I doubt I'd be healthy at all.

First off- I was a C-section baby, both for my own good and my mom's... so there you go. That's one.

When I was 3, my eyes had to be corrected multiple times.  While my vision isn't great and never will be (in fact I'm DamnNearBlind without my contacts in), I'd have been blind were it not for surgical procedures that fixed unconnected nerve tissue in my eyes. I'd also be cross-eyed, as any photo taken of me before that time can attest.

I've had tubes in my ears 6 times.  Given how very susceptible to ear infections I am now, I can only imagine how much worse it could have been. My ears are just such that they're chronically screwed up, and even though we've abandoned tubes and other surgical options, if I didn't have my hit of antibiotics every time they act up (something like 8 times a year, or so), I'd probably be deaf.

I've had my tonsils and adenoids removed, because I used to get tonsillitis to the point that I'd have serious trouble breathing.  My childhood and teen years were full of allergy shots because I was allergic to every part of nature you could find.  I had a recurring issue with staph (we named him Cletus) that required 4 surgeries to get rid of for good, and while I'm not thrilled with the most unbecoming scars left from that ordeal, that would have killed me in my 20s.

Ultrasounds, blood workups, and other testing have let me keep an eye on my kidney disease, too. Would it have killed me by now if I didn't know about it? Maybe.  Maybe not.  It's hard to say, but I'm certain that it helps a lot. 

I have no doubt that on my own, I'm on the losing side of Natural Selection.  I'm the one that Darwin was talking about... and even if it's cheating, I'm thrilled that science and medicine have kept me going even if I wasn't programmed for survival in the first place.  How awesome is that?


This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge .  

Prompted: Day 5--- Something you hope to do in your life.

Seriously? Have you MET me?

I want to do so many things. I wouldn't say I've got a huge bucket list, but I have a list of things I'd like to get to, if the getting is good.

I want to nail 25 laps in 5 minutes and improve my derby skills all the way around, considerably.
I want to take a cruise, even though sunlight hates me.
I want to go back to Alaska as an adult, and revisit my childhood.
I want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane.
I want to find an easy-to-maintain, age-appropriate hairstyle that actually works with my hair.
I want to get my pelican tattoo designed and done, and 2 of my others retouched/fixed.
I want to have at least a year's worth of living expenses socked away in a safe place where I can get to it, where it won't cost me a stupid amount of fees to get to it, and to never, ever have to touch it.I want to find a situation for my dad that is comfortable for him but lets me keep an eye on him better than I'm doing now.
I want to have a BMI that falls soundly within the range of "normal" for once in my life.
I want to be comfortable in my own skin.
I want to be better at this whole "unconditional love" thing.
I want to be able to do 100 pushups.  Real ones, not girly ones.
I want to find more reading material that speaks to me on a spiritual level.
I want to attend every single live music event I can find, and really get into it.
I want to more fully enjoy the experience of meeting new people.
I want to more fully enjoy the experience of knowing the people I have.

And really and truly, though it doesn't matter much to anybody in the grand scheme of things, I want to learn how to dance.


This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge .  

Prompted: Day 4--- Something you have to forgive someone for.

This one isn't going to be as easy as yesterday's was.

I am reading this question as asking "do you OWE somebody forgiveness for something."  Obviously- I don't *have* to forgive anybody, but there are times when you need to be able to say "alright, that person is obviously repentant, let's let this go now."  And you know what? You do that for you, most of the time.  It's a guilt thing, this drive to forgive other people, more often than not.  The weight of things to keep up with can get heavy as far as grudges go, and it's feels good to be free of those burdens.

--sidebar--

To call myself "sensitive" is an understatement.  I may bounce back quickly, but I really do wound easier than I should.  So, I often have little tiny things that I'm resentful of, but they usually pass within a day or two.  I get that I'm a soft girl, and it's not a challenge at all to make me cry.  But that's not what this is about.

--and, we're back--

I've only got 2 serious personal grudges that I hold.  The stories behind them are more personal than I'm comfortable getting into, so we'll just say that I've had brief moments in my life where I may have resembled the ugly parts of Tina Turner's life story, but without the musical talent, sequins, and fabulous calves.  And while I've gotten over the emotional damages caused by those moments for the most part, I can't say I've come close to issuing forgiveness.  To me, forgiveness has to be absolutely genuine to count.  It has to be genuine, and I feel like there's an obligation to let the other party know that they're being forgiven.

In these particular cases, I don't feel that forgiveness is deserved or even wanted, and I don't lose any time worrying about it.  I think that if I felt my unwillingess to wipe the slate clean on acts of personal abuse were holding me back from making progress in my life, I'd figure it out.  Quite the contrary- I think that remembering the lessons held in those incidents has contributed to my growth as a person.  I know now, irrefutably, where "the line" is in my own life.  I know what a "bad day within a healthy relationship" smells like, versus "a bad relationship."

So, nope.  I'm good here.  I don't feel the need to forgive anybody for anything... and it feels pretty darned good.


This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge .  

Prompted: Day 02 — Something you love about yourself.

Dear Me,

Sorry about all that yesterday.  I just had to get some things off my chest, you know, because really, deep down inside I know you're not a weak person.  You've been a rock for a lot people, and those people really do love you for it.  How many people come to you to talk about their problems? And most of the time, you actually do them some good.  They say "thank you" and they mean it, and they even love you enough to generally hop on board with whatever harebrained scheme you come up with because you typically don't lead people wrong.  You've got legions of amazing people who are loyal to you, and they respect and appreciate your loyalty in turn because they know that you're a good person with a reasonably stable head on your shoulders.  That doesn't just happen to everyone, you know.  You solve problems better than almost anybody else I know, really.  That whole "Sarah, find my ass for me" joke and accompanying dance didn't come along because you aren't competent.  Sure, it's funny as hell but the funniest things are rooted in truth.

You joke that you have a horrible memory and that's why you only get to hold 3 grudges at a time, but really, we both know that you're just soft and you forgive and give second chances as often as you can justify them and that's freaking awesome.  It's so much easier to not bear the burden of holding anger towards somebody, and it's great that you choose to relieve yourself of those burdens when are able to.  Think about how many fewer lists you have to keep up with that way! 

You're a FUNNY girl. Like, seriously kneeslappingly funny.  Hell, you drive Sabine off the road and make Sara quit breathing with your humor at least once a week, and some of your favorite people's favorite memories of you are of you making them laugh.  Sure, not everybody gets your humor and sometimes you're an acquired taste, but the people who know you best appreciate your quips and your snarkiness, even when you're teasing them.  Of course, you also know that it's not a one-woman show and the lineup of your life could rival the cast of even the best seasons of Saturday Night Live because you've had the good sense to surround yourself with brilliantly funny people, too (but we're going to keep that "acquired taste" disclaimer in place, ok?).  Who cares if you have questionable taste in music and sweaters? You have amazing taste in people... and people are what count the most. See? You got it right.

You rock!

Love,

Me

This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge Prompty List.  

Prompted: Day 01 — Something you hate about yourself.

I don't like the word "hate".  Words have power and I feel like if you give something the power of your hate you are empowering that thing... giving it leverage over you.  So instead... well... this.


Dear Me,

You're not intrinsically a bad person.  You don't usually wake up in the morning thinking "Hmmm, who can I make miserable today?" and it's been ages- like EVER- since you kicked a puppy or took candy from a baby.  You are the kind of girl who gets actual honest-to-god JOY out of making other people happy...

So it makes no damn sense, whatsoever, that you always jump to take the bullets of other people's unhappiness, when most of the time they have nothing to do with you at all.  If somebody doesn't show up for a party- you're convinced that it's because you're there.  If somebody doesn't smile at you, they can't just be having a crappy day. You KNOW that they can't stand you and it's all your fault.  Being a bit insecure about some things is fine, but unless you have constant validation from other sources, you're a mess that tangles her mess up with other peoples' messes and just makes a bigger mess.  It's not up to you to take their burden upon your own shoulders, especially not without their consent.  They're going to be fine... probably more fine if you don't meddle.  People know you're competent- if they need you, they'll ask. Really.  You have your own problems to worry about, you know.
You have ugly feet. Your hair is limp and lifeless. You talk too much, especially when you're nervous, and even though you've lost weight, you are STILL too damn fat for your own good.  Maybe keep your nose in your own problems and work on those while you're waiting for somebody else to need rescuing. Hell, it couldn't hurt.  Do some crunches while you wait. Or squats. Squats are good.

Furthermore- you want to compliment-fish and you feel like you have to do more than everybody else does just to prove that you're worthy to be around, but then you want to be all martyr and you can't have it both ways.  You put undue pressure on the people who love you to provide you with validation for your existence... and you know what? It's not their job.  Their job might be to love you but they don't have to coddle you. You're a grownup. Get over yourself.

Sure, you can fake self-esteem, but could you maybe just go get some and stop faking it so damn much?  It's exhausting, and it's unnecessary.  If you spent half as much time on actual self improvement as you did changing clothes 18 times before you left the house, you'd probably be halfway there by now... and you'd get to places on time, too.  People are either going to like you or they aren't, and you can't do much about that. What you can do something about is not needing their approval for every. damn. thing. you. do.
 

Love,
Me

PS: Don't get all emo. The good stuff comes tomorrow... and it'll be worth it.



This post is part of the 30 Days of Truth Challenge Prompty List.  

A great way to kick off a new year....

I make no promises about going in order... and I'm not even going to promise that I'll do them all, but I'm going to give it a shot. Fair? Fair.

Edited to add: A strikethrough represents a challenge that I have determined is just too Eeyore for my personal tastes.

30 Days of Truth

• Day 01 — Something you hate about yourself.
• Day 02 — Something you love about yourself.
• Day 03 — Something you have to forgive yourself for.
• Day 04 — Something you have to forgive someone for.
• Day 05 — Something you hope to do in your life.
• Day 25 6— The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
• 
  
• Day 07 — Someone who has made your life worth living for.
• Day 06  08— Something you hope you never have to do.
• Day 09 — Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
• Day 10 — Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
• Day 11 — Something you never get compliments on.
•  Day 12 — Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
• Day 13 — Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
• Day 14 — A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
• Day 15 — A hero that has let you down. (letter)
• Day 16 — Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
• Day 17 — Someone or something you definitely could live without.
• Day 18 — A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
• Day 19 — Your views on gay marriage.
• Day 20 — What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
• Day 21 — Your views on drugs and alcohol.
• Day 22 — (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
• Day 23 — Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
• Day 24 — Something you wish you had done in your life.
• Day 25 — Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
• Day 26 — Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
• Day 27 — What’s the best thing going for you right now?
• Day 28 — What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
• Day 29 — Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
• Day 30 — A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Prompted: Winter Weather

How does the cold winter weather and shorter days affect your mood or outlook on life? What if winter lasted year-round?

I have a love/hate relationship with winter.  I like being warm- once I get cold, I'm a miserable girl, and that point hits at about 70 degrees.  This problem has gotten more pronounced with weight loss, and I frequently bemoan that I want my fat back (though I'm lying, I really am).  I really do try not to be a whiner, but no holds are barred when it comes to being cold. Whining generates warmth, I'm convinced.

Even though I burn to a crisp with SPF 90 on my skin, I like the summer better as far as seasons go. The days are longer, and I can come home, spend a few hours mowing grass, get in an outdoor exercise of some sort, and STILL have time left over.  I can putter in the yard. I can sit on the back porch with a book or my phone. I can leave the doors open and let the sunlight in, and all of those things agree with me quite nicely.
But "together" time happens better in the winter.  Winter means puppy-piles with my loved ones in front of a fireplace, or watching a movie.  Winter is when I get to lie underneath my Christmas Tree and look up at the lights while my kitchen gets trashed because Aarin decided to make biegnets at 2 AM, and then there's going to be powdered sugar on the ceiling and every pot is going to be dirty.  Winter means New Years' Eve, which is my favorite holiday of the year.

Winter means it gets dark earlier, so there's adequate time for "quiet time" activities that never happen enough in the summer. Sewing, or reading a book. Watching a movie after work because it's too dark to be out in the yard being useful.  It is easier to get depressed or down in the winter, but it's also easier to deal with that because everybody else is bored, too, so finding company in a friend who can alleviate those symptoms (or even just listen to them) is easier.  Phone lines seem shorter when it's darker and drearier. 


Winter is a time for introspection, for quiet pondering, for being thoughtful and getting your beauty sleep.  Summer is for doing, for being more active, for fireworks, for grilling.  Both are necessary, both are good, and I don't think I'd want either of them to last all year long.


And man, I'm kind of ready for Summer to get here already.


*And no, I didn't bother mentioning Autumn or Spring because.... really, this is the South. It's not like they exist.