Feb 14

The Love in My Life

First order of business today: Valentine’s Day. I think most people are expecting me to be depressed or grumpy like I have been in past years. Nope, I am thankful.

Last year, I had a boyfriend and Valentine’s Day sucked worse than when I was single. If I can’t be with a man who cares as much about making me happy as I do him, I would prefer to be single.

I have had a grand total of two Valentine’s Days when I wasn’t single. One was fantastic and, one was terrible. I have had more strange and wonderful Valentine’s Days when I was single.

My first year of college, my roommate Lynsie put a note on her prized stuffed animal and knocked on the door then dashed a way. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me on Valentine’s Day.

Another year, I was at a greasy spoon diner studying for a massive Shakespeare test I had when this really attractive man asked to sit with me. I never saw him again, and if another friend hadn’t seen him, I might have thought I made it up in my own damn head. We talked for several hours about everything. It was strange and wonderful.

Tina and David took me out year before last. I wasn’t single, but I was e-dating the last ex-boyfriend, and I wouldn’t have done much otherwise. They are the reason that Valentine’s Day was wonderful. Them and the excitement I felt at being in love on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t the boy, it was my friends and myself.

This year, I am single again. I woke up to a small box of chocolates and a card that my dad bought for me. (I managed to eat all six and still make it work in my calorie budget because I am becoming a food managing ninja, bitches.) I logged on to my game and played a character that was wearing awesome pants that Tina and Dave got for me for Valentine’s Day.  Then, I went on to Facebook and found that my friend Sara posted this:

Yet another Baby Corgi

How can you see this face and not have your heart melt?

to my page because whenever she sees a corgi, she thinks of me because they make me so happy.

I don’t know if I will ever find a husband, or have children, but I do know I will never want for love in my life. I have more love in my than some married people I have known.

Things might not work out the way I planned, but they always work out.

Second order of business: things rarely work out like I planned.

I am the queen of trying to jam a square peg in a round hole. (Make all the dirty jokes you want, I did.) I was doing that yet again.

After struggling for weeks trying to get a section done with my book, my mom pointed out to me that something was glaringly wrong, and I had to change major details on the entire last half of my book. I was a little devastated yesterday, but I knew I could handle it. Last night I was up until 5 am re-outlining the last half of my book and figuring things out. I am basically going to have to write a whole new first draft for the back half. It is daunting, and yesterday it was incredibly disheartening.  I knew I had no choice but to do it.

My choices are: fix it, making it far better in the process, or quit and not finish that book. The second choice is not happening. I am finishing the book, damn it, even if it isn’t wonderful, profound literature, I am finishing it. If I can’t find a publisher, I will put it on Amazon. Even if it doesn’t sell any copies, I will have a book out for sale.

But, I am stepping back and accepting that it will take the time it takes. I hear you, Universe, I will stop rushing shit and making arbitrary time limits. As long as I am moving forward and working hard for a goal, I will be happy with what I do.

Yeah, and it is really hard to be too devastated after writing that first section that I just wrote. It is all about perspective people. Sometimes, I need it.

Third bit of business: I have some ideas bubbling in the front of my brain but they are all half formed. They are right there but I can’t quite get them. I have a feeling I need to have a long session of mumbling to myself while doing something mindless. It is a little frustrating but it will come when it comes. Yes, Universe, I heard you, damnit.

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Feb 11

In Dreams

In general, I have really vivid dreams that play out like movies, or well-made video games. Most mornings I remember them and  slap myself on the forehead for being such a weirdo in my mind.  Sometimes they are fantastic and kind of cool, like the dream where I got sent to the future with a breeding set of seal pups to start the re-population of the oceans after mankind burned all sea life from the oceans when the entire ocean revolted in a bloody war against man. I had to sneak through a massive dilapidated  hotel complex trying to get to the ocean so I could swim these three pups to safety. At one point in the water, I was guided by a ghost whale.  I had other dreams about being an assassin slayer in an airport. I have a lot of dreams about traveling through islands. I even had one dream that the cast of Desperate Housewives were all my friend. We were pirates together until they all left me in the pirate cove.

Like I said, most of these dreams are just strange tidbits from my subconscious, which manages to be weirder than my conscious, and mean little other than I spent a lot of years in college and I desire to travel. I might also have a thing for pirates and the ocean. (I had this really cool dream about these kids on an epic quest to figure out an ancient culture that lived on their island before them, and one is the long lost queen of this supernatural culture.) It is just how my brain works. I like stories, I make them up all of the time, so why not in my sleep?

Then I have other more personal and painful dreams that can stick with me for days.

I had one of those last night. My unconscious mind flayed me open and left me bare. My unconscious mind is a total asshole.

So, I am like everyone else, a deeply insecure mess. Some of us hide it better than others, but I believe everyone has periods in their lives that insecurities eat around the edges of their lives. No matter how sure of ourselves we are, sometimes that bullshit wriggles in without warning.

It is pretty obvious that I have been struggling with insecurity for almost a year now. I don’t think it was bad,  I have had a tremendous amount of growth from that insecurity, and I have taken more steps into becoming who I want to be then I have since leaving college.  I have just had a lot of “oh, no fucking way can I do this shit” moments or moments of finding my self severely lacking. I struggle with not feeling enough all of the time. Most of the time I do a pretty good job relegating it all to the back of my brain with only random outbursts.

Until my brain gives me the kind of dream I had last night.

In my dream, I ran into a friend from college. Let me explain. In reality, I haven’t seen this friend in many years, and, honestly, I am okay with it. We had a tumultuous friendship because she was a tumultuous girl. She was also insanely insecure and like to use me to bolster her self worth. Most of the time, that just meant she would brag to me or show me how smart/pretty/flirty/sexually attractive/wild/tough she was. Sometimes, she would just make really snide comments to tear me down and make herself feel better in tearing me down. Of course I didn’t realize it at the time since I was too young and too dumb.

Back to the dream…

She showed up at a party I was throwing. Her drug use had escalated from weed and pills to harder stuff and life had been harsh on her. She moved through the party trying to be the center of attention, like she enjoyed in college, but she couldn’t get enough attention, so she walked over to the group of friends I was talking with and started to belittle me viciously.

She belittle my weight, my intelligence, my near constant single status, my lack of a paying job, everything. She ripped me down into little shreds, attacking every little insecurity I had. I stood up to her, though. Inside I still felt everything she said, but I told her off. My friends stood with me.

Later that night, everyone kind of passed out. (I don’t know, it is a dream okay.) When I woke up I knew something was wrong. I went to my computer and found my filing system wrecked. She left a recorded video telling me she hadn’t erased anything but she had added massive quantities of stuff and messed everything up. She told me that she couldn’t let my behavior stand without retaliation. She wrecked everything and I had lost my book.

I have never felt so defeated in my life.

I know it was just a dream, but it still sticks with me. Part of me still feels ripped up from her nasty words and the devastation and helplessness of losing my book.

Even in my dream, my loved ones found a way to help me make it right. I think I am so pollyanna that even in my dreams I have a hard time feeling completely lost and hopeless.

I don’t think there was a point to sharing this. It was just on my mind. /Le Shrug.

 

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Feb 09

State of Mind

The weather outside sucks. It is cold, bleak, and just nasty. I have a headache. I have spent my day being whined to, growled at, and almost bitten. I want to binge eat chocolate and nap. I was walking into the super wal-mart trying to keep myself in a decent mood because a wal-mart trip is only made worse by a shitty attitude. I almost succeeded. My attempts at trying to be pleasant completely and utterly failed when I got home. I was cranky as fuck.

Cranky Face

Cranky!

Then I went onto the Facebook and followed a link from my friend Kathleen.

I ended up on James Hance’s Relentlessly Cheerful Art site. My friend Craig had told me about it before but I promptly forgot about it, the way I do, and I finally realized how awesome it is today.

It is all simple, beautifully done artwork that evokes feelings of geeky nostalgia and pure happiness. I am bolstered. It has bolstered me. I have made the decision to concentrate on the things that make me happy. I am stepping back, taking a deep breath, and then celebrating the things that made me happy today. (Beware of the videos if you are a sensitive soul.)

Number 1: A wildly inappropriate youtube video Tina’s little showed us. I started thinking about this morning in bed while I was trying to wake up, and it made me giggle like a maniac.

Number 2: My strange relationship with logic makes me happy. I know this sounds a bit egotistical to say my own sense of weird makes me happy, but it does. Logic, reality, normalcy, and I flirt with each other. We talk, and sometimes we even have coffee, but I am not married to any of them. I move through the world on my own terms, mostly because I know no other way, and it gives me joy. Most of the time I blunder through things moving without knowing how other see me or thought about how I compare to the rest of the world. I think I am happier for this.

Number 3: I have yogurt, bananas, frozen fruit, and low fat whole wheat waffles again.

Number 4: Sunny’s Diner. Lemme explain. I don’t listen to pod casts. I have the attention span of a coked out three year old. I have a hard time watching an hour long television show, much less sit still long enough to listen to a pod cast. Maybe if I had a smartphone and could listen while I did other things, it might be different, but right now, it isn’t.

But

Tina, Dave (her husband), and I game with these doods. This weekend Tina was telling me how awesome this podcast was. Our guild is a mesh of two GIGANORMOUS guilds but I still managed to have played with one of the guys and tease him mercilessly while I did, so I thought I would give it a shot while I played for a bit this afternoon. I was thoroughly entertained. So next time I do something at my computer that only requires a quarter of my brain, I will listen.

Number 5: I will be done with this evil section of my book soon. I am facing down the end of it. I am staring it dead in the face. Sometime soon. I hope.

Number 6: 100 calorie packs of fudge covered pretzels.

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Feb 07

A Slice of My Life

I don’t think this will be the entirety of my blog today but I needed to write this down right now. I already have had two funny things pop into my head and, after telling myself to be sure to remember them, I promptly forgot them. Instead of making a post-it note like a normal people, I am going to make a mini-blog. (Edit: It turns out to not be all that mini. I don’t know that this is all I am going to post.)

Okay, first of all, social media befuddles my parents. I find it highly ironic that their spawn can believe in it as much as I do and come from parents like them. My father thinks Facebook is evil and we are all throwing away our privacy into a soul eating machine. I am not saying he is wrong, I am just saying there is more to it than that. It is a soul eating machine that lets me see funny things. He thinks Twitter is one of the signs of the apocalypse. I used to feel that way until I understood it. Now I know Twitter’s greatest evil is that people can be mundane as hell and Twitter their entire lives. (I am one of those folks.)

My mom, on the other hand, wants to know about the Facebook and use it since my sister posts stuff about herself and her kids. When I show Mom videos and stuff that Ellana posts, she always wants another Facebook lesson. A few days ago Ellana posted a video on my wall of my adorable niece being her kooky, adorable self making up a song and singing it to her Ipod. Today I showed it and some pictures from my last photo shoot with Tina. Mom LOVED my niece’s videos and a few of the pictures.

I pointed at one of the pictures and said, “I actually really like this picture.”

Mom responds with a pinched face, “I don’t.”

Ouch. Instead of getting my feelings all hurt, I make a joke about our family’s militant honesty policy and attempt to move on.

She said, “Well, Selina, I am not going to lie. If I told you I liked that photo and I don’t, you won’t believe me when I tell you this photo looks amazing.”

I assure her that I understand that and we move on.

Let me side track for a moment. I do actually believe this. I try to be honest with my praise. I don’t believe in being sparing with my praise; I will tell you how amazing I think something is down to the last detail, if I believe it is awesome. I try not to give superfluous praise though, because I think it makes judging genuine praise harder. I have this belief because when people compliment me, I suspect they are being nice even if they hate what I do. It makes me a paranoid, self-conscious wreck.

Of course, I fail at this on occasion. (By on occasion, I mean all the time.) I refuse to be harsh or hurtful. I try to either not comment or to find something good, even if it is insignificant. If you are willing to make the effort, everyone has something you can compliment. Tina has also called me out on lying to her. She knew I was telling her I liked things she cooked when I didn’t. As a result, she couldn’t trust my responses to her cooking.  I tried to assure her that I would be more honest, but she told me I wasn’t capable of not lying to her about her cooking to prevent hurting her feelings. Tina, I PROMISE I will try not to lie to you about anything but your cooking. I will try not to lie to you about your cooking, but we know how that goes.

Okay, back on track we go.

So, after Mom gets up to do something else, I come in here and think of funny things to write about. Mom yells at me from the other room apologizing about the comment earlier. A bit later, I walked into the living room and she was sitting there obviously mad. This is what happens next:

Me: Are you mad?

Mom: Yes.

Me: Why?

Mom: You were kind of rude to me about what I said about your picture.

Me: I was rude when you said something kind of mean to me about a picture and I made a joke to keep from getting my feelings hurt.

Mom: Yes.

Me: -.-

Mom: Well, I am not going to lie to you about it.

Me: I know, and I feel the same way, but I generally try to cushion my honesty. Your honesty is a bit sharp.

Mom: I KNOW. I said I was sorry.

Me: This is kind of like me punching you then getting mad because it pissed you off.

Mom: I know.

Me: I am a bit mystified by you being mad at me.

Mom: Me, too.

A few minutes later as I was leaving the room..

Mom: I want you to come out later and do some cleaning.

Me: Are you still going to be mad at me then?

Mom: I don’t know.

Yep. You can’t make this shit up.

 

This is the photo of contention. Mom told me it made me look like I was trying to look to be tough. I responded that it was just my face. She told me that she knew. How the fuck was I supposed to take any of that?

Bad ass motherfucker

I actually really like this photo. I don't care who else does. /le cry

 

 

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Feb 04

Never Google

Tina did a rocking photo shoot today, and then her little brother made us blue fin tuna steaks and sangria. Life is fucking good.

We came up with a new drinking game called “Never Google”

Someone starts the game by saying “Never Google…” and if you have Googled it then you have to drink. I think it is awesome but I would lose. I’ve Googled everything.

I’ll start out.

Never Google Alabama Hot Pockets.

I know things. Bad. Bad. Bad. Things.

Oh, the internet is a dirty, harsh mistress. We have had a long affair. I don’t know how to quit her.

Also, I am a bit of an asshole to my favorite males when I am drunk. I make sensitive boys cry. I need to be nice to Kyle. He cooks too well to piss off.

I am going to go drink more rum wine fruit goodness and play monopoly. I see this ending really funny or atleast I will be too drunk to care.

 

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Feb 02

Please Forgive Me

I realized today I am about half done with my second draft of my book. I also realized that I have a niece coming on April 2nd. I want to have my second draft done before my sister is done brewing my new baby. So, I am going to try to work really hard for the next two months and get it done.

That means that I won’t have as much brain power to put into my blog.  After I finish my next section I am going to Tina’s for a few days to recharge a bit then I am diving back in. I keep being haunted by this gasping fear that I will never get it done, and the way to get it done is to refocus and get it done.

Everything else is going to have to suffer a bit. My blog will probably less spectacular because I am not going to force myself to write 500 words when they are going to be boring 500 words about my dog. I do promise to post something on the blog days, even if it is a few funny observations and a funny picture. I figure that a short funny blog is better than hundreds of painful words. It might  also take me longer to become a rocking sex kitten from Mars because I will have less emotional energy to put into exhausting myself with stressing out about food and trying to kill myself with exercise. I will have a book. It is worth it to me.

Right now my life is a huge act of faith. I have devoted myself wholly to something with no tangibles. My self-worth has always been based on measurable things like grades or pay checks. I don’t have that now. I feel like I am chasing this intangible dream of becoming a writer with abstract ideas like success. I don’t have a paycheck to proudly plunk down showing that I contributed and I’m not getting grades. All I have to bolster me that I am not wasting my time is the faith I have and others have in me.

I’m scared shitless.

But I am going to push on and get this book done, so I can grip tightly to this one thing, this one tangible thing. Soon, when the doubt comes back, and I feel like I am doing something stupid and I should give up and get a real job, I can feel good about that one thing. I will have that one concrete success.

On a completely random note:

I saw a L.L Bean edition Subaru Outback, and a tiny piece of me wanted to key it. Does that make me a terrible person?

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Jan 31

A Blog in which I Explain My Caffeine Overdose

So, last night I OD’ed on caffeine. I might not bring it up except that I blogged in the middle of it AND sent The Bloggess direct messages (I told her she is the David Bowie of blogging). Social media is awesome because it means you can send your idol really insane messages while whacked out on chemicals. Ooops. Mea Culpa.

I have learned that 9-12 cups of coffee a day is a bad thing. I didn’t realize this until my legs started tingling, I was burning hot, and nauseous. I completely missed the pounding heart and insane bouncing brain. It should probably make me sad that the mood swings and crazy inability to focus were close enough to normal that I didn’t notice. I’m not going to analyze it though, no good can come from it.

I realized I was overdosing on caffeine and was incredibly tired. (The universe thinks those things are funny.) I decided to back away from any form of communication, (only after blogging, facebooking, and tweeting, of course) and try to get some sleep. I lay in bed yawning but my brain zipping around like a cracked out squirrel. I will give you a brief transcript:

Why am I crying? I’m not sad. Maybe my eyes are just watering. Is that a caffeine OD thing or is it just me being weird. It is probably just me being weird.

The Bloggess is going to get an internet restraining order against me, and you know what, I deserve it.

My dog is going to be really sad if I don’t take her for a walk tomorrow but I think I need to relax and even out some.

NOTHING I DO MATTERS. I am a complete failure at writing I should give up and get a normal job. I HATE ME.

Who in their right mind thinks they can go from 3 cups of coffee a day to 12 and not suffer consequences. Well, obviously, I wasn’t thinking.

MY HEART IS LIKE A GODDAMN MARIMBA. I think it is a marimba at least.

I miss Adriel.

I’m going to die alone.

And the thoughts went on like this for about twenty more minutes until I gave up and baked something.

This morning things are much better. I am watching my coffee intake because, apparently, too much makes me insane. I think it is also causing my writers block. And near religious experiences.

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Jan 30

The Blog in which I Explain How to Eat Yogurt With Anger

I found way to eat yogurt in a manner that displays annoyance. I fucking win at life. Until two minutes ago I was angrily scooping Great Value Light Nonfat Orange Creme pie yogurt into my mouth and crunching the crushed vanilla wafers in a forceful manner then scraping the sides of the little plastic container far harder than necessary.

I might have some rage.

The good thing is I had fun eating my yogurt in an angry and aggressive manner.

I’m angry. I am pretty sure it is the world’s fault. I am growing to loathe politics. Correction, I LOATHE politics right now. I cannot get away from political news though and it is making for the angry. LOOOOAAATHE

I do believe that it is important to be aware of what is going on in your world, but I think that right now turning on the news, watching enough poilitcs to see that they are all still douche bags and the world is going to a flaming dog poop hell and then turning it off.

*Click TV on* Oh look, politicians are still raging corrupt douche noodles. Good to know. *click off*

I have so many political rants and massive rage. You know what, it doesn’t help. Me getting all angry about people who think different than me doing things I think are dumb doesn’t help the world in anyway, and it just hurts my ability to write my book. I need to let it all go, stay informed, and harness my zen.

I should probably avoid drinking nine cups of coffee like I did today. That could be part of my problem.

I am pretty sure that much coffee makes your zen run straight the hell away. I feel like I need to be pacing, smoking furiously, mumbling animatedly to myself, and tugging at my hair, like a female Dennis Leary. I don’t smoke anymore so I have to make due with crunching yogurt.

“How’s the writing going, Selina?” It is not going, that is how it is going. I feel a little like I am flinging myself at a large concrete wall repeatedly, but I am doing it with flair and style.

I want to cuss, repeatedly with zeal and vigor.

Look. I know what the issue is. I am tripping my own self up with stupid stuff. I am back in that I need coddling phase but I am pissed because I need coddling. It is a dirty cycle. It is to the point were I sat down with my mom and told her I need to be neurotic for a bit. I sat down and told her exactly what was going on in my head, what I needed to do about it, and what she needed to say to me. Been here done this. I think this bout will be easier. I think temporary writer insanity is like all other kinds of crazy, you just learn coping skills and you can handle that shit.

I also think I need to lay off of the coffee. Maybe I should replace it with wine…. mmmm Wine.

Okay, I am going to drink a glass of wine and say mean things to my female protaganist, because somehow this is all her fault.

 

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Jan 28

I Will Flagellate Myself Later

That word does not mean what you think it means.

I would never write about that here, my sister reads this sometimes!!!

Perv.

(Twitter, on the other hand, is a different story.)

January has been a slacker month for my writing. I was diseased for the first part of it and then my uterus tried to kill me. I don’t why I thought upping my exercise this week while I am the PMS bitch monster from hell is a good idea. It probably isn’t but I decided to do it anyway. Give me food and sleep and we might all survive.

I must go

SWEET MOTHER SAVE ME!!!!

I don’t know where this dog is going, but he sure as hell is in a hurry.

My theory is that I am unaccustomed to be a woman of action. Before recently, I was a woman of thought, procrastination, and slow movement towards nonsensical goals. I would take a few steps, ponder a bit, take a few more steps, ponder some more, then change direction completely. Now I assess the situation and move forward like a damn rock star. I think my body is unaccustomed to this new crazy level of pure awesome and it thinks I need to take a nap and ponder some more.

Or, I have just increased my activity level by something crazy and I in a time of natural fatigue.

(I refuse to believe that it doesn’t have something to do with my body adjusting to all of the awesome.)

Yeah, that is about the it of it. Can I take a nap yet?

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Jan 24

Uh-huh

I want some fucking chocolate.

That’s right.

Chocolate.

So I am drinking wine.

Fuzzy baby wookiee puppy

I am so goddamn cute it hurts.

I don’t really have anything to say. Well, nothing coherent, interesting, or even remotely blogworthy.

How is this different from most blog days? Because I included a picture of the cutest puppy ever.

I should probably keep writing while I ingest more wine. I think it could either be a fascinating trip to watch a drunken hormonal free write, or it could be horrid.

I keep getting these like weird worries about this hypothetical mass audience that I will have int theory some day. I worry if I write something and it is less than stellar if it would damage my chances at this masked horde. Maybe I should worry more about my content being all professional and shit and not publish something unless it is polished, interesting, fresh, funny, insightful, and a bunch of other really cool words.  Then I realize I freeze up like a 13 year old dungeon master at a junior high dance when I try to worry about being cool. I know this is my most accessible and direct outlet to the world, and theirs to me, and therefore I should make it as pretty and shiny as possible. This is my public face.

NOOOO this is my public face.

THIS IS MY BLACK SWAN FACE

I probably should either stop drinking or stop writing.

I do have a cute little nose, even with the crazy eyes and bad skin.

Sorry, I lost focus to check my e-mail. I am amazed that I get anything done. Seriously. I brought up my self-diagnosis of ADD to my friends on Saturday and they laughed at me. I mean not because they don’t think I have it but because they knew for a long time.

Turns out everyone knew. Turns out you can kind of tell it about me almost immediately. I’ll be damned.

I used to think that I was kind of mysterious or at least so strange that people had to get to know me to, you know, really know me. Turns out, not so much.

I am finding out that a lot of people knew a lot of things about me before I did. They get to giggle at me when I am tell them something I figured out something I think is deep and profound about myself that everyone all ready knew. I was the only one surprised when I realized I am very stubborn and bossy. Apparently everyone knew that. I’ve decided to not over think my lack of self awareness. No, really I JUST decided that.

I am a woman of action now. I ponder things but not overly so then I get shit done. I need a cape.

This statement makes sense in my own mind: I need a guinea pig because they are like a puppy but they always stay a puppy. They are small and furry and make delightful little squeeky sounds.

This is the bullshit that hangs out in my mind. Now you see what I am up against when I try to communicate with others. This is why shit like “It vexes me that my ass is lopsided” seems like a completely normal statement.

So this one time my first year of college, I was sitting on the student union deck with some random folks and I was really tired and they were talking about stuff I didn’t pay a lot of attention to and since I was so tired my ability to cover the fact I was completely in my own little world slipped. I gazed off into the distance and sang, “Monkey monkey monkey,” in a sing song voice while making hand motions like I was steering a car. Tina was there. She still continued to be my friend. I feel no guilt about teaching her kids the badger mushroom song. She knew, oooooh, she knew.

I am promise I will get over being so fascinated how weird I am. I am just learning to accept it.

Monkey monkey monkey.

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