I haven't had any random thoughts in a while ...

I was thinking, today, as I was driving to work ... I was thinking about my favorite topic of late, and that would be my amazing boyfriend, Michael.  More specifically, I was thinking about our relationship and my role in it as compared to my role in past relationships.  I know that, in the grand scheme of things, Michael and I haven't really been together for very long, but, the thing is this... it's been long enough that I know something is assuredly different here.  What's different is me, and I'm different because of him.

It's very true that, in human relationships, that people play off of the vibes of one another.  Often times, we do these things without realizing it's even going on.  I know that, in the past, I'd already be turning into someone I really don't like very much at this stage of a relationship.  There would already have been that first disagreement, that first argument, or that first hint of a cluster fuck of head games that make you question what you think you know.  That isn't so here.  It simply isn't. 

See, games make me feel ugly because they elicit responses from me that I don't really care for.  I've always seen myself as a reasonable, laid back, trusting, and secure person.  Someone plays games, though, and it seems all that goes out the window.  It's, unfortunately, something I never notice right away.  When I do, however, I take the necessary steps to rectify the situation.  I mean, never again will I be someone I don't like; moreover, I will not be someone I don't like because of another person's influence.  Fuck that noise. 

Anyhow, none of that nonsense is going on now.  What I have going on now is 800 degrees of wonderful.  Often times, I sit back (who am I kidding?  ALL the time...) and think, "so this is what it's like to have exactly everything I've ever wanted".  "so this is what it's like to be genuinely cared about."  "so this is what it's like to NOT have your head fucked with."

and... guess what?  I realized, today, while I was driving to work... I'm exactly the person I always thought I was.

and so it goes

How long has it been since I typed a coherent though?  Too long, I suppose is the answer ... the only answer ... the correct answer.  I should be doing more of this kind of thing.  I should be processing thoughts a lot more.  I really need to be getting started on this project that means so much to me.

I am, unfortunately, still awake.  Why does that always seem to happen the night before I have a vacation day?  Excitement over not having to get up?  Maybe so.  Or maybe I'm just thinking of different things every time.  It's true that my mind never stops.

Oh well... that's just what I do.  I've been thinking a lot lately about how happy I've been here, where I live now.  Truly, I can say with all certainty that I've found myself here.  This is the first place that's felt like "home" in a very long time.  I'm not entirely sure why that's a bittersweet realization for me.  I guess because life "should" have turned out differently?  Nah... I'm sure that's not the answer.  I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be right now.  Nothing can, will, or should change that. 

Wow.  I'm too tired to mess with this any more tonight.  I'll try to be more diligent with my writing endeavors.  It's hard... so many new things going on.  I've committed to doing this, though, so do it, I must.  haha  that sounds so ... "wrong". 

"One day, I'm gonna write a book..."

I keep saying that, but it never happens... yet.

I guess because, when I do, it'll probably end up in the self-help section, and, if that ever happens, just know, ahead of time, that this was not by my choice. Why? Because I have a complete loathing and contempt for the self-help industry. Simply put, I think it's bullshit... all of it. Every last stinking fucking piece.

(as a side note, I intend to cuss like a goddamn sailor in my book, when I write it. why? because, if Corey Mother Fuckin' Taylor can do it, so can *I*)

I have no use for the self-help "genre", especially as it pertains to the interactions between human beings, be it on a friendship, professional, or romantic level. This market preys on people who feel inferior in some capacity, and the self-help machine serves to make them feel even more inferior. This, in turn, keeps a non-understanding public chasing after the next panacea that their lazy asses don't have to put the work into creating for their lazy-ass selves. How true is that? Very, in my not-so-humble opinion. "Let me see what Josephine Self-Help Book Author has to say about this because, Gods forbid I do the hard work and soul searching involved in figuring this shit out for myself." Imagine, next, the compounded feelings of inadequacy when Joe Consumer realizes he simply doesn't measure up to whichever prescription to success he is subscribing to this week or that he gave it his best shot and it simply didn't apply to HIS life circumstances, so it didn't work. This feeling of inadequacy, when added to the feelings of inadequacy that caused Joe to go looking for answers to begin with is compounded and is slapped with another "label du jour". It becomes a vicious cycle of disappointment and inadequacy as Joe continues to search for the holy grail... the ever elusive... ANSWER... On and on he goes, and this endless search just perpetuates the market for this kind of nonsense, and these false prophets continue getting richer and richer because, poor Joe, who looks for answers from external sources, is going to keep spending his hard-earned money as he continues searching outside until the point comes that he realizes this central truth: the answers all lie within his own soul.

To me, flaw number one with the self-help industry is that everyone thinks their answer is "the" answer. What it doesn't, however, factor in is that we're ALL different, even the most similar individuals are just that... individuals. While this bit of advice may apply to YOU and YOUR circumstances, it will not, in fact, apply to me or my circumstances. Furthermore, you have NO BUSINESS making me feel like a loser when your crap doesn't help ME. Maybe it helped 50-1000 other people, but that's them, and I'm ME.

To me, flaw number two is the fact that the self-help industry assumes that ALL people are rational and sane. Uh... HELLO... You're writing books FOR people who are fucked up to begin with, and you're telling them WHAT to say or do in order to elicit a certain response from other people, and you're basing those suggestions on the fact that THOSE people aren't somehow fucked up too??? Get a CLUE. We're ALL fucked up in some way. Period. Even if you think you aren't, you ARE, and thinking you aren't is probably your biggest problem.

"Do this for your man, and you'll get what you want". Uh-huh... This assumes that a rational, sane person is delivering the information and that a rational, sane person is receiving the information. This is the case rarely to never. Yes. NEVER. The person whose heart you're trying to charm your way into is, just like YOU, riddled with the drama and bullshit baggage of his or her OWN past and present life. It takes more than words in a book to figure out how in the hell to figure people out. The sooner you figure THAT out, the better off you'll be. The answers are NOT in a book.

All you really need to do is become a keen observer of human nature, learn to think outside the box, and LEARN the correct and hard lessons life slings your way. Go forward and TRY not to fuck up so badly the next time because the shit WILL come again, which means you apply the lessons you've learned to your future endeavors, but NOT in a self-destructive sort of way. Yeah, yeah, I know that's complicated shit right there. It was hard for me as well. I'm no saint, and I've seen my share of self-defeating, self-destructive days.

As a person who feels so strongly about this, imagine my dismay at the fact that a hefty 99% of the things I've written have all "helped" someone in some capacity or other. I write to plow through things, I write to figure out how to deal, I write to sort through feelings, I write to find my own answers, and, lastly, I write in order to know ME better. A side benefit is that I've, in some way or other, resonated with you. My words have mattered. I know because you've told me so. I love that. I really do, but, please understand, my goal was never to help YOU.

I know my answers aren't for everyone, but I feel they should be. I think it's a shame that too many people out there look outside of themselves for information their soul already carries. I mean... think about it...

"this book will give me the answers"

"this drink will take the pain away"

"having a billion Facebook friends will make me less lonely"

Putting the responsibility on someone or something else is just... wrong. I see this go on way too much, so if me sharing my pain, joy, and process of figuring this shit out causes even ONE of you to look within... I'm all about it. Let's go, and I hope you all enjoy the ride because, while I aim to help, I'm well aware that I'm far from a panacea. These are simply my life experiences, and, if they help you, great, but hopefully, they'll amuse you as well because, above all else, I aim to entertain. The thing is this... if you aren't willing to grow and learn, none of your life will amount to a pile of shit.

P.S. when I end up in the self-help section of Barnes, please try your hardest to not make fun of me. I'm already, in advance, scourged by the shame of it. ;-)

Cent'anni.

Do I even like you?

A friend and I were talking just the other day about a guy she's kind of seeing.

"I like him," she told me. Then she listed these reasons why she liked him, and we both ended up realizing that the reasons, while good, can still turn out to be bad ones. What she ended up saying to me is something I've pondered more than once in my myriad dating... uh... "adventures."

"I wonder though... do I like him, or do I just like him because he likes me?"

See, the reasons given were all centered around how the things he does makes her feel good when she's around him. Like I said, those aren't necessarily bad reasons. I mean, why on earth would we put our energy into liking someone around whom we feel bad?

The thing is this... there needs to be more going on than how you feel when you're around the other person. I've always known, up front, that there will be trouble when someone tells me something like that. At some point or other, in ALL of my involvements, I throw the challenge down... "you like me? that's nice. Why do you like me?" If the first thing out of his mouth is "because you make me feel good when I'm around you." or anything like that, I know there are going to be problems. Why? Oh, please... allow me to 'splain.

See... I have a dynamic personality. I have the ability to relate to people, and I can get just about anyone to relate to me. I have the gift of empathy, humor, compassion, and... around me, you can be 100% you. Oh, and I'm good at ego stroking. Not to put too fine of a point on it, but there are very few people I simply can't get along with, and, whether or not a person realizes it, they usually feel better after having spent time with me. The thing is this... if this is the only thing you like about me, that you feel better or good about yourself after spending time with me, I will end up disappointing you.

When we rely on other people to generate our good feelings, it places a constant expectation on the other person. Take me, for example. When I was in a situation like this, there was this enormous pressure on me to always be completely awesome, and, folks, I'm just not. I have bad days. I get into moods. I'm not always going to be able to feed a needy ego. Period. Then what happens? You see that, just like everyone else on the planet, I'm a human being, I'm flawed, and now I've disappointed you. What's left between us when the only thing there to begin with was that I made you feel good? Nothing.

Like me because I'm smart. Like me because I'm funny. Like me because I'm a decent human being. Like my kindness. Like that I do quirky things. Like that I'm not afraid EVER to be 100% who I am. Like that I know how to behave no matter where I am. What you should absolutely not, EVER, do is look to me for your sense of self-gratification. I mean, of course it's good to like that you feel better after having spent time with someone special, but that shouldn't be the ONLY thing you appreciate about the person. If they are, eventually, they WILL disappoint you.

So, my friend and I decided that there are other things about this guy that she likes, and I'm happy for her. :-) I hope it goes well for her. Me?  I guess my point is this: I haven't always known what I was doing in the past, but I have learned, and, while I'm still a flawed individual, I know it isn't fair to base my interactions with others on "what's in it for me?"

The mess

I guess I've put the cart before the horse a bit here by talking about my highway musings first. I guess that was for effect, to catch attention, to... suck you in, so to speak. I guess maybe I should start with this: Prior to about a month ago, I've always had issues with trusting myself, my instincts. Never mind that, after the fact, on numerous occasions, I've always been right. Never mind that. I always figured this (whenever "this" happened to be) would be the time I was wrong. Yes, this would be the time I was wrong, and all the things that my gut screamed at me to get away from because they were horribly wrong would turn out just fine and dandy. How awful is that? To be right time and time again but to only know it after inflicting torment and pain upon yourself because you're convinced that you're wrong? Wow.

It was mid-January, and, as I recall it, I was driving to my then-boyfriend's place (not "home" as I previously thought. So, I lied. Sue me). Things had felt odd between us for a couple of weeks, at that time, and my gut knew what the problem was. The deepest part of me knew what was going on and what was coming, yet... Maybe I was wrong. See how easy that is? It's a trap, you know, and it was the worst kind of mind fuck, if you ask me, you know, the ones I've pulled on myself.

See... here's the deal... The truth of the matter is that I was re-living the number one worst relationship I'd ever been in, but I convinced myself that I was just projecting my issues about the past on to my present circumstances. It was completely eerie how my then-boyfriend would say or do these things, and they would be verbatim or identical to what Mr. Six Years Ago had said or done. It was completely creepy at times. and... WOW.

The six+ years ago drama is what taught me ALL that I needed to know about toxicity and destructive relationships that I'd need to know for the whole rest of my life. I was constantly on high alert for a line of bullshit, and I could see it coming from 12 miles away. The thing is? I was TIRED of being constantly on guard. I was TIRED of freaking out over every tiny little thing that reminded me of the worst point in my life. I was TIRED of blaming other people for what one person had done to me. The end result was that I gave this situation more of a chance than I should have.

See... I'd see and hear these things that would send me into an emotional tailspin... I swear to fuck, it was just like he had a fucking script from back then. Only... I tried to convince myself that it wasn't fair to hold the past against the present. Just because Person A said this and was lying doesn't mean that Person B is lying when HE says it... Bullshit. Well, I didn't know it then, but I do now, and that's what matters. What matters now is that it didn't take the better part of a decade for me to figure it out this time.

See how it was a double-edged sword though? Maybe even triple edged. Underneath it all, I knew what was going on. I knew that goddamn spade was a spade. There was, however, my foolish tendency to override my own common sense and there was the part of me who felt guilty for judging the new person for what the old person had done. Which way to go? which way to go?

Starting over

Warning: The person writing this blog realizes she's about to say some very off the wall things, and she'd like to take a moment to assure everyone that she does not have a death wish. In fact, I assure you, she's (even though she's taken to referring to herself in the third person) a rather sane and reasonable person. Sharing this is a part of her journey, so don't make our heroine regret it. I wonder, though, if anyone reading this has the balls to be as honest as she's about to be?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I remember driving down the expressway one night, on my way home from work, and, for a split second, it crossed my mind to just let go of the wheel and move on. Does anyone else ever have that thought? To just move on? Not to die, but to move on to the next journey? Anyone? I suppose it was more of a desire to be anywhere but here. Here had grown bad... old... and it wasn't exactly within my means to walk away from everything I know. I want to feel bad or wrong for saying this, but I know I'm not. We have all, at one time or another, stood on an edge, either literally or figuratively, and wondered what would happen if we jumped, even if it was for a split second or even a fraction of a second. That urge, it's human nature. Google it if you don't believe me. It's a mild form of OCD that each and every one of us has. We ALL wonder. "What if I jump?" "What if I stick my finger in this outlet?" "What if I let go of the wheel?" That's all it was for me... a wondering. What's next? What's beyond this current state of bullshit? What would happen if I just... let go? And if I have to tell any one of you that it never would have happened, I'd have never let go, then you don't know me, and I'm not sure I want to know you.

I was in a... place. I was beyond frustrated. I couldn't figure out why life was constantly throwing the same situations at me over and over and over again. Why? over and over, the lessons were all the same. There are awful people in the world, they sling their particular brand of bullshit at you and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah... over and over, as I've already said, ad nauseum. I thought the lesson was straight forward enough. Recognize the bullshit for what it is, and get the fuck away from it. FAST. That particular mission had been accomplished too many times to count, so why did it need to keep repeating? I mean, when you believe as I do, you believe that everything happens for a reason and that there's a lesson to be learned in every interaction we have, be it a new lesson or the solidification of a previously learned subject. Everything happens for a reason, and, considering that I accept this as absolute truth, I'm sure most can appreciate me wondering why the same eerie scenario kept presenting itself to me.

For a minute, I equated my life with a record that had been scratched, and it kept repeating the same portion of a song over and over. Maybe there was some cosmic glitch, and the needle of life was caught in a scratch on my soul. Usually, you have to bump the record player to set things right, so maybe I needed to bump something along in order to generate my paradigm shift. I knew that letting go of the wheel in order to get my record playing right would be cheating and that I was required to keep digging, to keep searching for the truth that is me. That's just how it works. I never wanted to die. I never wanted to not exist anymore. All I wanted was to bump myself on to the next song... get out of this constant repeat of a chorus that was growing old, or, let's face it, it had grown old ages ago. Now, it was only ridiculous. So, there ya go. No death wish, only the desire for something different, and I used figurative scenarios, like letting go of the wheel, to clarify my thought process.

Since I came to accept that the hard work of sorting through all of this is mine to do, and mine alone, I've been doing a whole lot of work in the cleansing of mental clutter. For the first time in ... well ... ever, I feel like I'm finally understanding; understanding in the purest form of understanding. It all made sense to me the day that I figured out why I wasn't crying over any of it. I'd gone straight to the brink of it. I'd felt the tears well up in my eyes, but then... it always stopped. They never fell, and the day I figured out why, my whole life changed. Again.

Those who are closest to me, who are privy to my innermost thoughts and get the juicy details of all my interactions and relationships will freely admit that it had gotten borderline comical how I always managed to find myself in the same situation. The same, but different, if that makes any sense. Yeah, if it weren't so fucked up, it would be hysterically funny.

To be continued... (and I promise you, I will follow through on this. It's too important not to.)

2:18

The wind outside sounds brutal. I hear it whistling around my window, just looking for a crack, an opening, so it can come inside and consume me. I guess keeping me awake isn't enough. When I wake up to a noise like that, it's hard to remember, through the vulnerability of sleepiness, that I'm safe and secure inside a building made of brick. Or... maybe I don't really believe that. Who knows? What I do know is that I want to be sleeping right now.

There's a kind of loneliness that being awake on a windy night evokes. I'm not sure I can even put my finger on it to describe it, but, I guess, to me, the wind sounds empty, which magnifies the literal and figurative emptiness around me. Usually, other things being around buffers the noise... breaks the wind, so to speak. (*giggle*) Yes... I'm so high up in this building that there is nothing around to break the force of the wind before it can slam into this building and whistle around the windows. Just as there is nothing buffering me from the sounds within myself that drive home the point, in the middle of the night, that I am all I have. Because it's all I need, which makes it a good thing.

See... this isn't a "poor me, I'm single" thing. I've felt this way in situations where I wasn't single. Other people can sleep through this kind of thing, so this is just a "me" thing. It's a lonely I embrace because it reminds me that "me" is the one thing I can count on. That's never a bad lesson to learn because people tend to rely too much on others to give them extraneous joy. This wind, it reminds me to look within to find my answers... Awake and alone, in the still of the night, the wind whips around me; it's a reminder to remove myself from "outside" and to place myself "within." Within is where I listen to the stillness that assures me, "I've got this", and "trust yourself."

I like how, at the beginning of this, I had the wind as my enemy. Now, I see it as my friend. How... appropriate, I suppose. So many changes lately... so many things have come along that, just a few weeks back, seemed completely horrible. Now... I see them as good things... The changes that were my enemies have become my friends. Now, whatever is to be will be. I give it over to the universe to put me where I need to be. I am whole, I am strong, I am happy, and I can handle whatever it is that is brought my way.

2:53... I need to try to sleep again.

Westboro Baptist Asshats

WTF is wrong with these douchebags? WHY, in the name of whatever it is that you find holy, do they think it's okay to protest at ANY funeral? I just don't get it. I mean, yes, of course it's a ploy for attention, and, as my friend told me, it's an excuse to sue the fuck out of whomever tries to get in their way at any given protest, but DAMN... Is nothing sacred?

I don't care WHOSE funeral it is, it is NOT the place for protesting, picketing, or any other derogatory activity. Chances are, there will be plenty of family members contributing to negativity and whatnot. What got my panties in a bunch today was reading that they plan to protest at Joe Paterno's funeral. WHY??? Because he did bad things when he was living? Guess what, douchebags... A lot of people commit atrocious acts of douchebaggery in their lives, but... the one good thing about death is that it means the douchebaggery is no longer occurring. WHAT GIVES??? Go protest the douchebaggery while it's being actively committed and not AFTER the fact.

Funerals are for the living, and, vile as some of the acts that have been committed are, there will be people there who saw the humanity in the deceased; there will be people there who loved the deceased. You have NO business showing up there and adding to their misery by being fucking idiots who claim to be exercising free speech.

Fuck you, you assholes.

the girl that I once knew.

Goddamn motherfucking piss shit hell. All I really want is to create something. I want my inspiration to return. I have been bitching about this a LOT, but... what happens when you no longer have very much to say, or, when you do, it comes out sounding like pure drivel? What about that? FUCK.

They say... a writer writes, so I should just be able to sit down and just make words happen. Keep on keepin' on, as Joe Dirt would say. I guess I ... well ... it's never really served me well to try to force an issue. How am I going to make something happen that just isn't there? I guess it'll return when it's so inclined to do so. I guess it just makes me feel like I can't do shit right. Honestly? I want to throw something and scream. What's the point in that, though?

They say... Write what you know. I guess that's why I always wrote about people who have risen above the bullshit in their lives. I shared my misery with others in the hope that it would help someone else with their own. I've heard I was rather good at that. What happens, though, when you've finally gotten your shit together and are actually quite happy? Does that mean you're never going to have a moment of pure genius again? Are there really no more epiphanies I will have to share with my friends? I don't think, for a moment, that I've finished evolving as a human being, but I do feel like I've lost that part of me that is able to make other people relate to me, which... I guess that's what I loved the most, someone being able to identify with me, a feeling I had, an issue I was sharing through the random stories I'd write.

"not the girl that I once knew..."

I guess, in order to find my new epiphanies, I need to become accustomed to being who I now am. Gods know I was used to being that other person. You know, that other person who never served me well. Fuck that shit.

21

This has been too big of a deal for me for far too long. The 21 symbolizes 21 days... the 21 days I may or may not have left to live. Here's the thing... 21 days from now is February 8th, and it's 3 days before I turn 42. Some of you already know this, some of you don't, so let me recap. My dad died 3 days before his 42nd birthday. If I am alive after February 8th, essentially, I will be older than my father. That's so hard for me to imagine, so, for some reason, I have this notion in my head that, on that day, I will cease to exist.

Sure, I have a rational mind that tells me I'm full of shit. I live a much healthier lifestyle than my dad ever did, and I have no risk factors that would contribute to my untimely demise, but still, that thought is there... what if a cement truck hits me? what if I choke on something? I mean, I don't necessarily have to have a fatal heart attack, so, yeah, it's scary.

I've decided... After this date has come and gone... I mean, really, I'm sure it will... I'll use it as a figurative jumping off point to make some changes. Why not now? Well... I need something to take the fear out of the day... something to look forward to because, Gods know, turning 42 isn't incentive. Really? Who wants to get older. In fact, maybe I'll turn 40 again and start aging backwards. If I make it to 0, I'll start going up again.

So, yeah, I can't fathom being older than my dad, and, hey, most of my bucket list items have been fulfilled. Ya never know, right?

Destination

I keep sitting here wanting to do something... I want to create something; more specifically, I want to write something, yet, when I sit down to do so, nothing happens. It reminds me of something I heard from the three stooges many years ago that I've never forgotten... "I'm trying to think, but nothing's happening." I'm not sure why I've been consumed by this compulsion to write something down. I sit down, and I feel like I simply... can't. I mean, as evidenced by this blog, I'm quite capable of typing out words that come out in some sort of coherent fashion, but it's nothing like what I'd love to do... what I was, at one time, able to do. Maybe I need to devote more time to this? I don't know, but, what I do know is that I need to get my groove back. It's frustrating the hell out of me. Period.

I think, what pisses me off the most is that, when I'm out and about or occupied by something else, my mind is literally overflowing with ideas, yet I can't seem to remember any when I sit down to compose greatness. Something's gotta give. Soon. Before I start to feel like I'm becoming a dumbass again. I don't have the capability of putting myself through college again to prove something to myself. Yes... I did that before. Several thousand dollars of my own money spent only to prove something to myself. Fundamentally, I found it to be worth it, but I couldn't do it again. There are too many other things to consider here now.

So... yeah... I guess I'll ramble with my thoughts now. I'm pretty ... happy ... here lately. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm only inspired when I'm miserable. That's entirely possible, I suppose. I guess, if that's the case, I'll have to contentedly live the rest of my days without ever generating a potent thought ever again because I'm NOT going to compromise the joy I've found. I mean, there are other artistic outlets I can cultivate.

Maybe my gift for the written word was to be a short-lived thing... maybe it was a way to deal with things I hadn't dealt with so they could be put away. Ultimately, they and it allowed me to be here. I feel like I've arrived. Time to get off the bus and enjoy.