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| This is my world... you're all just living in it. |
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Watch this dumbass try to rob this guy and come up short. I wish that shit had happened when I got robbed. (Watch Closely) | ||
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Just finished filing my taxes for the year. I must admit the new forms sure do make it easier. | ||
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This is probably a computer edited photo or some high school kids playing a prank but either way I'm posting it. | ||
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NEW LIVING WILL
______ a Brandy Alexander ______ a Bloody Mary Priest/Rabbi/Minister/Pastor/Deacon...to come do their thing at my funeral, and ask all of my friends to raise their glasses to toast the good times we have had. | ||
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Okay, so I had another - the wierdest dream ever last night. It started with Robin Williams and I walking down a cobblestone street somewhere in Europe. I was an older gentleman and I was a bit crazy. My hair was doing that white, fly-away-wizard type thing. Thing is, I was riding some sort of ball through the air. It was my thing. I had been practicing forever. Then, in front of a restaurant I finally got it. Needless to say Robin was delighted for me.
Well, then we went inside the restaurant and, somehow, I became his young daughter. He doted on me and we had this understanding because I was still me but I was a little girl. Therefore I was devilishly clever for a young girl, and I used it to my full advantage. Then, as we walked through this fancy restaurant, I was suddenly me again, but still Robin's daughter. Anyway, he was sardonically commenting on the food. He was talking about the lack of variety. "Oh, and you can go and get yourself a sausage with a side of... sausage!" I looked around and indeed, there were pans full of wursts on about every available surface. During this time looking around, I was imposed upon by some skinny, young, blond-headed boy. Those of you who know me know that this is the "type" I despise. They just make my skin crawl. Anyway, he was all over me - "in love" and so I fended him off.
We were then out in front of the only gas station in my hometown. Then the army pulled up. They came in these long trucks and were hauling some kind of scaffolding/silo type things. The first group that got into the station had one guy of their group unload by himself. He did so with very little trouble, even though these things were about 30 feet tall. The other groups pulling up had to have more people help when they unloaded theirs. Then, one fell and one guy caught it and put it gently down. "Wow, he's almost as strong as Bateman." Bateman, I wondered, and assumed that either there was a different Bateman or that they knew my brother. I walked among them and announced "Yup, Batemans are generally pretty tough." No one heard me.
Then I was at home. I woke up at about four o' clock and I thought I was awake for real. I was wondering whether I should just get up when someone walked up the stairs. Suddenly I realized that I lived with four other men and a women. I sat and talked with the straight fellow, who had come up the stairs. He, as I, was unclothed (I sleep in the nude). Anyway, we chatted for a bit and then someone else entered the room, also naked - but this was a boy I met about three months ago and had no interest in whatsoever. He sat on the bed and joined the conversation. Next, my nude (I don't really know what to call him - he'd be my arch-enemy if he were worth the time) "person-I-value-least-in-this-world" walked in and also sat on the bed. At this point, I realized that there was someone next to me under the covers. I had woken earlier that night and found him there, but was too asleep to really noticed and had fallen back asleep... It was the horrid skinny blond kid! I was utterly repulsed. "You do not enter my bed unless I invite you to my bed!" I told him, as sternly as one can tell these types of things. He gave me a look like "geez" and crawled out - also naked. I then had a conversation with the woman in the house, who was shirtless for some reason.
Anyway, this wasn't a sex dream, it was just wierd. Everyone was naked. The Robin Williams part was the best though. Somehowe I managed to be related to him in just about every way possible in one dream. Kudos to me! | ||
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Rum is a very intresting thing. I love rum, it is better than wine. Wine leaves you with a happy warm feeling that while your buzzed out of your mind you tend to think that everything is happy go lucky. I am pretty well intoxicated again. I keep coming back to the question of how I got here. The age of 30 approaches and I'm walking barefooted through a three bedroom apartment in Virginia with a woman who has a five year old daughter. My right ankle snaps like it has always done (could never sneak up on any one with out my shoes on). Maybe I look into the past too much. Oh, god do I hate time, not that I can say that time is my major antagonist but it has never been my friend. Whatever. | ||
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I know what your thinking or at least I know what I would be thinking if I was reading my own blog with out knowing me. I would say shut up you little pansy and get over it. I would say something like, "That dude really needs to stop feeling sorry for him self and get his act together." It really makes me think when I step away from my self and look at my life. Where I am, where I have been, how I got here, and where I am going. Pain and life are funny things. When you are in pain it is so fresh and sharp and it is there slapping you in the face. However later on when you look back you can't remember the pain. You just barley remember the girl of your dreams dumping you at the ripe age of 17 but later on when you look back you see it with eyes of wisdom and all you remember is her and how much fun you had at the time. Oh well I promised my self when I decided to write this blog not to get to deep. I am in a good mood, nothing has gone really wrong in the last week or so. Just my impending age progression slapping me in the face every day. Now for the business at hand. I have a treat for you guys. I collected some jokes that I am going to share with you all. Peace. Phanku
This joke is just corny.
One day, Harry came upon a big, long ladder that stretched into the clouds. He'd walked this way every day and this ladder was never there before. Curious and brave, he began to climb. Eventually, he climbed into the layer of clouds, and saw this rather large, homely woman lying here on a cloud.
This one is sooo wrong but soo funny. It's wrong because it is suppose to be an actual letter to some one.
Dear Sir;
Beware, you should allways be nice and try to help people. I could see myself doing something like this.
A successful businessman flew to Vegas for the weekend to gamble. He lost the shirt off his back, and had nothing left but a quarter and the second half of his round trip ticket -- If he could just get to the airport he could get himself home. So he went out to the front of the casino where there was a cab waiting.
I made the mistake of reading this one in class, I got shushed by the teacher when I broke out laughing my ass off in class. It was bad.
A girl asks her boyfriend to come over Friday night and have dinner with her parents. Since this is such a big event, the girl tells him that after dinner, she would like to have sex with him for the first time. The boy is ecstatic, but he has never had sex before, so he takes a trip to the pharmacy to get some condoms. The pharmacist helps the boy for about an hour. | ||
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I think I stole your good mood - sorry.
After all my moping around I finally sat down and wrote myself a little schedule. I still have ample freetime, but I have some definite requirements set up for the time that I do have scheduled. This morning I woke up at six and jogged up to school. Or at least tried. It's only about a seven-minute jog, but uphill is uphill even if it don't look it. I then lifted, went to work, skipped my class, and worked on NURBS modeling until noon. Then it was home again for two hours of games and then the dishes and then up to an Allies on Campus meeting. Finally, I'm back up here at work. Day's almost done. It's astonishing how much energy working out gives you. I haven't even been tempted to be in a bad mood today.
Of course, I consciously avoided chatting online. I've decided that I'm actively not dating - a sensational choice because then I don't have to put any pressure on myself to date. I don't have to be nice to people that bore me, I don't have to browse through a thousand profiles that only serve to make me body conscious, and I don't have to chat! It's so strange that our society puts such enormous pressure on dating. You never really realize it until you decide that, hey, you don't like dating - and you know what - you're not going to date. Ever.
Dating is just plain a bad idea. You are immediately forced to spend time with a person that you may or may not like. Then, if you're like me and actively dislike anyone who's trying to get you to like them, most dates end up an absolute waste of time. Much better to like a person before dating them - doubly so with the penchant gay men have for sleeping with each other on the first date. That's also out the window. People can just stuff having sex with me.
Oh - and what I started this blog to say, is that I've discovered a super-constructive way to keep arguements from turning into fights. Well, we all have problems with each other and sometimes we adress those problems. Most often, unfortunately, this happens when we are riled already. When this is the case, we forget that the person causing the problem and the problem itself are two completely separate things. Thus, we attack the person, who we may love, instead of the problem.
This happens on the recieving end too - so often! We're trained to argue by attacking the person rather than the problem so it always sounds like we're attacking the person even when we're not really meaning to. The receptive person has a choice. They can either take the attack for what it is - an attack focused on them because the other person views the problem as a part of who they are - or the receptor of the attack can realize that the problem Isn't Part of Their Identity, and realize that the attacker is only talking like it is. Then, the receptor can either bring this fact to their attacker's attention, or just let it slide and be understanding.
This is what I learned from talking to Kalli that one day a few blogs ago. We accept our mistakes as part of our identity when they're really not - that's why we get defensive when someone adresses them.
Oof. Well, that's all for tonight. I still have about three hours of sitting around to do, but I'd really rather not ramble on forever. Take care ya'll, and Good Night! | ||
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I woke up grouchy yesterday. I was facing a day that wasn't appealing and I decided to just be grouchy.
I ignored my gratitude card. I looked at myself in the mirror and said "you just go ahead and be miserable". I made coffee the way I like it (2 extra scoops) and DARED anyone to say anything about it.
I took my coffee back to bed, cursing the bathroom for needing cleaning on the way past. I grumbled an answer to my husband's cautious queery as to my mood. I swear if we had a cat, I'd'a kicked it.
I spent the next hour watching the the brutally edited "Bad Boys" on TV and just being miserable. I even ignored my sister's call because I just didn't wanna talk to her.
I was starting to wonder if my mammoth efforts to stay positive and happy were worth it. This was the first day in ages where I'd been up for 3 hours and didn't give one moment's consideration to everyone else's feelings. It was nice to wallow in my misery.
Wasn't it?
I mean, it's a lot of work to be happy.
Ok, so I had a bit of a headache now that I didn't have when I woke up.
And it was hard not to notice how much deeper the wrinkles on my forehead are when I scowl.
Plus, I just kept forgetting to be grumpy. Caught myself laughing twice and sending good thoughts to a friend that had been struggling with a personal issue.
By the time the second cup of coffee was gone, I was so over being grumpy.
But I should add that the 2nd cup of was brought in by a very friendly husband, clearly worried that the world was ending. Obviously there are some benefits to the ocassional grumpy morning.
As I sat there realizing that I was no longer grouchy, I came to an understanding that it's ok to let myself by grouchy if that seemed like the thing to do. And an even bigger realization that I'm really glad I'm not grouchy a lot.
So I went out to the kitchen, made a fresh (weak) pot of coffee, cleaned the bathroom and called my sister. I faced my day with the understanding that I can do whatever the hell I want, as grumpy as I want.
But that it will give me wrinkles on my forehead.
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I hate online dating - there's no better way to come away from a day hating yourself. No one knows how to start a conversation online. "Hey." seems to be the standard - scratch that - "hey" tends to be the standard. And it's understandable! How do you start a conversation with someone when all you know about them is the their 6'3'? Might as well just go as follows.
hey Hey. so you're 6'3" then, huh Yup. cool
Standard! I hate it. I'd be more likely to continue a conversation with someone who opened with the line "I want to eat your eyeballs for dinner!" At least they seem to have something they want to talk to me about. And of course your comfort zone never lets you start a conversation with anyone - as if you have anything to say other than "hey".
So, no one you want to talk to initiates with you and you don't initiate with them. The few people that do start conversations with you are generally the dregs of the chatroom and you feel obligated to make small talk with them because they made the effort and you know what it's like to make the effort. Still, they all die down after about five sentences, leaving you feeling like you have nothing to offer the world - you can't even hold conversations with "the dregs". So, at the end of five hours spent "chatting" you log off feeling unattractive, stupid, and raped.
This is one of my less interesting blogs, I know, but I feel the need to keep up with ShrinkingWoman. How fair is it that I got to enjoy two(!) new blogs today and she get none? | ||
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I am frequently accused of being just too damned cheerful. At least once a week, some stranger on the phone will say "Wow! You sound happy" or some such comment. I typically reply "Well, it was one of the options I had when I got up this morning." I say it like a cheery ditz, but more times than not there is a thoughtful pause or a comment about that attitude on the other end. Mission accomplished.
Why do I make being cheery such a priority? There are a lot of reasons, but here are a few:
1. It makes other people feel better. In sales, making the other person feel good is more important than anything else.
2. I genuinely feel cheery most times; and
3. I do not want to burden others with my problems.
I know it's incredibly dorky, but I try to live by the Golden Rule. And in doing so, find that I simply MUST remain cheerful. I believe that unless I know you personally, there is only one answer to "How are you" and that is "Great, thanks. How are YOU?" (or some such answer), whether I'm asking or being asked.
When I ask Suzy across the counter "Hi, how are you?" I really don't care how she is. And I have walked away way more than once when I received an answer I deem unacceptable. Recently I stood in line for way too long only to have a grumpy teller respond to my greeting with "Don't ask" while she avoided eye contact and checked her watch.
I smiled sweetly, put my business back in my purse and said, loudly enough for all around to hear, "Then perhaps I'll come back when you are up to doing your job. Have a nice day." And I walked away. Why did I do that? Mostly to embarrass her, but in some small way to show her that her behaviour is having a negative impact on people she encounters. And I don't appreciate that.
Being cheerful is not the same as being kind. And while I do make a big effort to be kind, I feel no obligation to cover up my disappointment when another human being does not behave as they should. Particularly when that other person is providing a service that I am paying for and/or for which they are being paid.
Being cheerful works, but when you combine cheeriness with a clear outline of your expections, you will disappointed less frequently. Another experience I can relay:
My son went through a phase of buying decorative swords. He would save his pennies and shell them out for overpriced junk made in China. One store in particular had received over $300 of his money, for product that was most likely marked up 1000%. One of these items literally fell apart when he opened the packaging. I went back to the store, stood beside the "no refunds" sign, put on my most cheerful attitude and explained to the girl what had happened and that we would like to exchange the product for one that wasn't defective. The minimum-wage clerk looked very concerned and explained that they couldn't possibly know that Max didn't break it with rough handling.
Again with a smile, but with a tone that relayed my confidence, I said "Could you please go and ask your Manager if we could exchange this? Explain to her that my little boy has spent a lot of his allowance here, so the only answer I will accept is NO PROBLEM MA'AM."
She was stunned, but I continued to smile adding a little shrug and eyebrow lift. "Go on" I encouraged...
It only took about 2 minutes for her to come back, look me right in the eye and say with her own lovely smile "No problem, ma'am". I thanked her, told her how much we appreciated it and showed it by spending another $50. Win/win.
I will leave you with the brutal truth, as this blog is all about me being honest and ugly...
I am cheerful because it benefits ME. I know when I treat others well, I benefit professionally and personally. It also makes me feel better (fake it until it's real). And maybe, most of all, it allows me to live my life with this superiority I feel when I am able to control my environment better than most.
Have a nice day! | ||
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Exercise of the brain is as important as exercise of the muscles. As | ||
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Surely this is the most transitional period of my life.
New job.
New body.
New friends.
New mom-role.
And that's what I want to talk about today. How much I love being the mom of grown-ups.
My daughter was born first. She was one of those kids who seemed so much older than their years. You've heard parents say when asked how old little darlin' is "three going on 21"? That was my Erika.
I was a very lucky first-time mom. She was an easy baby, charming toddler, good student. We had next to no trouble with her as a teenager, which my mom still points out I didn't deserve. We had some issues of course. It's a law as mother-daughter to have some power struggles.
After high school she chose not to go to university, and as a working adult did what all should do: she moved out on her own. Until the boyfriend came along, we talked and saw each other often. And while the nightly phone calls have stopped and she doesn't come home much, we remain close. Our relationship has grown into a very nice, mature friendship and we genuinely enjoy each other's company.
In summary, she is still a joy to have as a daughter and I will be forever grateful and proud.
The Boy was born 3 years after Erika and as I've said before, was the absolute opposite experience. But for 18 years I felt I understood my purpose on this planet: to be Max's advocate. I took the role seriously (particularly the "martyr" part) and was proud of the young man that moved out last September.
Erika claims Max is my favorite. Max claims Erika is their Dad's favorite. I maintain that while most parents do not have more love for one child than another, often they will find themselves "relating" better to one. And that is the case in our family. As a family with a high-needs kid, the "good" kid gets less of Mom's attention, but benefits from being Dad's little pal. The difficult kid gets a lot more individual attention, but also is often the target of the incredible frustration and emotion that comes with challenging situations.
And in the end, Max and I are extremely close. And we see him quite a bit. As most 18 year old males, he is constantly foraging for food. Free food to be specific. So he manages to show up at meal time 3 or 4 times a week. And it's so very enoyable.
Max has become highly empathetic. This causes him some discomfort for some reason. Recently I witnessed him show a mere acquaintance extreme thoughtfullness and felt compelled to comment on it. I told him how proud I was that he was so sensitive to others needs. Not only does he recognize quickly what would make the other person feel better (rare), but he most times acts upon it (perhaps even more rare).
His response to his mother's clucking and fussing? "I know! And it pisses me off! Why can't I just be the asshole I want to be?" Turns out his difficult childhood has left him especially keen to other's discomfort, causing him to act like a total dork (his words, not mine). I point out that he also has every female that knows him telling him how adorable he is, which he does agree is a nice benefit.
Today I am having lunch with Erika. After lunch we are going to stop by her favorite tattoo shop and book appointments and look through the flash. I'm getting my second and this will be her 9th. She is truly one of the coolest people I know.
I do not believe in luck, so to speak. So I can't say I feel lucky to have such great kids. I also know that sometimes we get more than we deserve and for that I am grateful. But mostly this new phase of mothering supports my overall philosophy... You get back what you put out.
And while I was far from perfect as a mother, I put my heart and sole into raising my children. There were moments of doubt and fear, but for the most part I believed things would work out. I believed that if I did my job, both of my children would come out the other end of the school experience whole and happy. And I never put my children's well-being second to my own comfort zone (which I see constantly and loath).
I know it is so early in their lives to claim they are happy and successful, but I know one thing: Being their Mom is an honour and a joy. | ||
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Okay, so I'm moving out of the summer of glorious approval.
This is the third week of the semester and what do I have to show for it? Well, I've beaten Jak&Daxter and modeled a stud-without-a-head. And I know a bit about what womens' lives were like in Ancient Greece. My alternator is still hovering around in the underbelly of my car, I'm out of soap, deodorant, and milk, and my account balance at the bank is at... well, it's at $649 but my landlady hasn't cashed my two-months'-rent-and-three-months'-utilities $885 check yet. What delight. Two of my professors have been avoiding looking at me because they're afraid to ask about the projects I'm working on for them. One person showed up to the Gamers' Guild meeting last night. I haven't applied to even one grad school yet.
There's something to make your head spin. I hope they're all going at different times for you like they are in my browser.
I think our lives move in cycles. We get going, get good (or bad), learn a lesson, and then we start from even again. Or we start from a moderately higher place - but still lower than the peak of our last cycle. That's where I am now. I'm at that trough just waiting for my next peak. I think I've about maxed-out school accomplishment cycle for now, which should make for a comfortable and easy next few years in that respect. Maybe it'll be work or relationship based. Maybe physical, maybe spiritual. I suppose we'll see. Maybe organizational. I could use that.
I have this chest at home that's filled with just about everything I've ever written or drawn. I rarely open it, but it gives me a good bout of nostalgia when I do. All my old homework assignments are in there too - from way back when I remembered how to do calculus.
What I'm getting at is that I need a better way to keep track of my accomplishments. Ha! That was a good transition - but seriously, keeping track of all the kick-ass things I've done, jobs I've held, presentations I've given; I've forgotten most of that. I'm not even sure I remember all the jobs I've had. I wrote an application letter to a grad school and totally forgot to say anything about my two semesters as a Teaching Assistant.
Plus, I haven't gone to work out once this semester. I've gone to water polo twice, but I don't really count that.
The point of all of this is that I need better organization. I don't think that it's so much being busy that gets things done, but the fact that when you're busy you have to have everything scheduled. Last semester I had Saturdays and Sundays completely unscheduled. I think I'll stick with that. It's time to put the rest of my life back into little boxes though. I need another job as well. Hmm... there are interesting possibilities there.
Okay well, I've gotta get to work writing this stuff out. One-two, one-two. Tootles! | ||
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Happiness has been my quest for many years. Why happiness? Why not success, money, good deeds?
For me it started when I decided to take charge of my life and fix everything that was wrong. I had left the space where I felt at the world's mercy and finally understood that if another person was the cause of my problem it was because I allowed it.
The list I made of things to fix was extensive. It was a daunting task and often overwhelming. So I asked myself why did I want to fix these things. And of course the answer was "Because it would make me happy".
It became somehow less frightening to be on a single quest (for happiness) that entailed many aspects, than it was to be on a quest to find so many individual components.
It has made a huge difference in my life and I definitely consider myself to be one of the happiest people I know. I don't mean "cheerful". I've always been that. I mean deep-to-the-core satisfied with the direction my life is taking and very pleased with the many benefits I am able to enjoy.
Like any person in their pink cloud phase of enlightenment, I wanted to share my great discovery with everyone. I felt like I had discovered the secret to happiness and couldn't understand why everyone wouldn't want to jump on board. Surely everyone wants to be happy.
But that's not the case. Many unhappy people choose misery over happiness. Some just don't rank happiness high on their list of priorities. And others probably like to be miserable. And to those people I say whatever you want is fine by me. I can't say I understand it, but I appreciate the honesty.
It's to those that claim to want happiness, but just refuse to pay the price or do the work I say "don't whine to me then". I have a superior attitude in this regard. I am happy and successful and I'm not special. If I can do it, so can you.
The mistake I was making was to assume everyone needs to be happy. Or that "happiness" is the same as cheerful (but the genuine cheerfulness, not the mask).
Then came Ouiser. That's my character's name in Steel Magnolias. Ouiser is miserable and is ok with that. In fact, she takes comfort in it. I'm new to acting and am experimenting with different techniques. Part of my homework is to "be" Ouiser off-stage and to understand her.
What fun. There actually IS comfort in not giving a shit about happiness. Or rather, others' definition of it. In fact, I believe Ouiser is happy in her misery.
Maybe happiness comes when you understand and accept who you are. I'm pretty certain that happiness can be defined by a lack of... well, lacking. And if you are unhappy but do not desire anything else, then perhaps that in itself is a type of happiness.
Knowing Ouiser has changed my attitude about happiness. Perhaps it isn't the ultimate goal. "Satisfaction" is a better goal.
I am satisfied. And that makes me happy. :)
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