#8

Rule #8. Don’t drink tequila while sitting down.

You can only…

You can only smile through so many tears. You can only grin through so many ass smacks and so many kisses. Eventually it’s too much. You can’t be the odd man out an still enjoy yourself. I don’t fault them. They scream my name right now as they dance with their boyfriends but they do understand the pain I endure when they kiss their boyfriends and I’m left dancing with the air. They call my name again. I must go. And smile. And fake it till I make it.

If A=B…

You’re such a bad person.  Even worse than that…I don’t care that you’re such a bad person.

It’s aggravating. The way you talk about your relationship; how you refer to time with your kids as “babysitting” is just astonishing to me.  It’s really quite disgusting, but worse than that, I don’t care. I try really hard believe me, I spent a few sleepless hours with “you’re a bad person” as my mantra and still when I saw you, I didn’t fucking care.

When will I get past this? Why can’t it just hurry up and happen?

Bah.

You’re a bad person. What does that make me?

Decisions. Decisions.

How do you following your dreams if you don’t know what they are?

What voices in your head are the ones you listen to?

Will you feel it in your gut, will you know it in your mind, will it caress your soul when you are on the right path to following your dreams?

When you want two things how do you reason one over the other. Can Solomon judge this one? Please?

10 Things I Hate About You

This is not an ode to the sexy Heath Ledger, nor a mockery of Julia Stiles’ role. It’s simply a collection of thoughts at 11:42 pm.

I hate the way I can’t sleep and you run through my mind. It’s like that really bad pick-up line come to life.
I hate the way I think about the knight on the white horse and it’s you.
I hate that my vision of the house with the white picket fence and scruffy dog chewing on a bone has you mowing the lawn and eating my pot roast. (I hate pot roast).
I hate that we have a mutual best ‘bud’.
and I hate being a ‘bud’
I hate driving by your place of employment, and looking for your vehicle. (No I’m not a stalker).
I hate knowing that I can see you on Tuesdays.
I hate Tuesdays.
I hate that you’ll never be mine.

 

 

Friendship.

If you don’t put any effort in, there is no friendship.  Inversely, if you put too much effort in, there is no friendship.

Quite the conundrum to see ‘on paper.’ but it’s not so complex.

Exhibit A

Imagine it like a venn diagram (ya know from 5th grade…those two big circles that overlap)

No effort is one circle, too much effort is the other, when they overlap, they overlap ALOT, so it’s really easy to hold the friendship with not too much effort, and it’s pretty easy to hang on to it with quite a bit of effort. Really the odds are in favor of a friendship working-in practically all cases.

Exhibit B

See exhibit B.

Given this information… Why the hell do we not have a working friendship?  What is your issue?!

Smile.

Ever smiled at a stranger? yea? You changed their day.  If even for a moment you brought joy to their heart by flashing your beasty whites at ‘em, that joy surely had an exponential effect.

Ever seen that car commercial where one person does a small favor for another, and someone sees that happen and is inspired to do something for another?  It’s a pretty simple concept really.  It was drawn out in a movie starring Haley Joel Osment, Helen Hunt and Kevin Spacey.  You know it’s possible if you’ve ever had a stranger smile at you.

Imagine if we didn’t have to imagine this ‘theory.’  I’m not saying it’s a cure to war or anything outrageous like that, but what if…  Maybe we should try it. Tomorrow, smile at a random person (or 10!). But try not to make it a creepy old man smile… not sure how that would go over…  Hold a door open for some unexpecting patron. Leave an extra dollar tip if you dine out.  Don’t do it for the thank you. Do it because you WANT to–you want to be in the habit of spreading joy, don’t you??

_

Need more reasons to smile and spread joy?

• Buddy the Elf thinks it’s cool. “Smiling’s my FAVORITE!”
• It uses more muscles than frowning, thus burning more calories.
• It makes you look more attractive
  
• It is the essence of exuding your inner awesomeness
• Smiling is FREE!
• Someone you pass may need that smile you’re hiding…so just do it!

Side note: You can’t find EVERYTHING on the internet. I’ve been searching for 20 minutes for a link to the commercial I referenced. No luck. I know I didn’t dream it. It’s out there somewhere!

Buy Local?

I’m all for buying local, handmade, sustainable farming-All that hippie shit I’m into.  Unfortunately it’s usually more of a do what I say not as I do thing for me.  I’m working on it.  My aunt sent me a forward email today-some political stuff about buying USA and boycotting China for 2 months-referencing a Diane Sawyer study on pulling out everything from a home that was made in China and nothing was left but the kitchen sink “literally.”  What really got to me wasn’t all the numbers laced through out the email, cuz come on, we all know that 89.2934% of statistics are made up… what bothered me was the that first argument of this ‘buy USA, fuck China’ was that this “lady” picked up a can of mandarin oranges and put it back down because it was made in/imported from China.  MANDARIN oranges, from CHINA. Really?  Perhaps someone should give this woman a 15 second cultural lesson.  Mandarin is Chinese. One of the two native languages spoken in China is…Mandarin.

What is wrong with Americans? You want to buy local, but you want global things! Your argument now maybe “Well Americans do harvest Mandarin oranges…”  Yes, yes they do, but they are not native to our soil.  It’s just as awkward as going into a Chinese Restaurant with Chinese waitresses and hosts and finding out the guy cooking your food is from Guatemala. There’s nothing wrong with it, but it’s just a little startling to be surrounded by one culture and find a black sheep in the midst. It happens, and everything operates in a copacetic manner around it, but it’s just a little thought provoking is it not?

Mandarin oranges should come from China. If you don’t want to buy products from China go to Florida and eat an orange.

It’s a ROCK CONCERT!

I have just returned home from attending a Train concert at Tanglewood.  Now if you are not familiar with it, check out Tanglewood’s website here.   And if you’re not familiar with Train…check them out here.

Now that we’re all on the same page why would you attend a Train concert and sit down for it?  I was pushed, called names, had water splashed on me–all because I wanted to stand up and dance… To popular, dancable music! It was incredible.  It’s TRAIN, not the BSO! Don’t come to the concert if you are not a fan. And certainly don’t insult the fans enjoying themselves.

The people SITTING behind us yelled and pushed us, got an usher to ask us to sit down. We went to the aisle to dance. We were asked to vacate the aisle by one usher, and told we could stay by another as long as we didn’t impede the walkway.  That first usher came back and said we have to vacate the aisle or we would be asked to leave the venue. He didn’t care that we asked to speak to him outside so we could actually have a conversation. We returned to our seats, pick up our bags, and asked to speak to a manager.  A third usher said to wait here as she was walking around and would return shortly.  A fourth usher said we couldn’t stand there! We explained we were waiting for the manager, then she finally came.  After a short conversation and a clearing up of the fact that we wanted to dance at our seats not in the aisle she said show me where you’re sitting, I’ll talk to the ushers go ahead and enjoy yourselves. We did! After more pushing and shoving from our old neighbors a 5th usher asked us to sit down and I simply said “Teresa said we could stand” he shrugged and walked away.  MORE pushing! and water squirted (or spat we’re not quite sure) at us-  Pat was singing “marry me” and walking around the venue so the house lights came on and the old broad (now standing) behind me leaned forward and in her raspy, old-lady voice called me a ‘fat pig.’  Apparently she never saw Bambi. At this point, I wasn’t going to sit down until they dragged me out of the venue and I got to my car. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words really hurt me.  Fucking cunt. I tried not to let her get to me, I held back a few tears. Shortly thereafter the row behind us was vacant.

The show ended, it was quite short-even to those who hadn’t spent half of it trying to dance…and on our way out in the herd of cattle a REALLY old man, it was definitely past his bedtime, came up to me and said with a smile “you two are the rottenest people in the world.” I yelled at him that it was a ROCK CONCERT! and walked away.  SERIOUSLY? Are you really fans of Train? Did you know who they were before your grandchildren Googled them and showed you? Would you have enjoyed the show even if I wasn’t standing up? Go home and wait for John Debney to come around.

Shake it off.

Mom and Dad came home tonight and I bawled my eyes out. Granted I was in the midst of watching Charlie St. Cloud for the first time-a movie John and I were going to watch together, and of course, he forgot-it’s a pretty sad movie. But I think a lot of my tears came from the relief that a period of stress ended. I’m not sure if it was a realization that I had completed the task of living alone for a long weekend, or if I missed my parents and was glad to see them again. I’m sure it’s a mix, but I’m so weighting the former. I mean. It’s a big deal for me to live alone successfully and I really feel as if I did that. I took care of myself and the animals, and I still kept up a social life. I’m proud of myself. It feels good. Granted I wouldn’t volunteer to do it all again tomorrow, but I will have to soon. I have two weeks to prep for their next vacation.

After all that stress and crying I’m really ready for bed.

Oh and I chopped my hair off.