1-2-3 1-2-3 Drink

 

Happy Monday. You know, I’ve known this song has been around a little while, but I never paid any attention to it. The only reason it popped up this morning is because I started my last week of Cize and this is the song. So wait, last week of Cize?!?! That means that for the last five weeks, I’ve been diligently getting up in the morning to go down to the dungeon and make my best attempt at dancing. That means that the last routine is so freaking hard that I will spend two weeks on it, making it weeks six and seven.  That means it will be seven of the easiest (mentally) weeks to get up and work out. And I don’t usually stick with things for that long, but I’m trying to change those sorts of bad habits.

Back to Sia. Have you ever listened to this?

Party girls don’t get hurt
Can’t feel anything, when will I learn
I push it down, push it down

I’m the one “for a good time call”
Phone’s blowin’ up, they’re ringin’ my doorbell
I feel the love, feel the love

1,2,3 1,2,3 drink
1,2,3 1,2,3 drink
1,2,3 1,2,3 drink

Throw ’em back, ’til I lose count

I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist
Like it doesn’t exist
I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier

But I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ‘cos I’m just holding on for tonight
Help me, I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ‘cos I’m just holding on for tonight
On for tonight

Sun is up, I’m a mess
Gotta get out now, gotta run from this
Here comes the shame, here comes the shame

So how’s that for a gut punch? Not so much for you? Good on ya. Hit me like a truck. I used to live this way. No need to point fingers or any such madness. I’ve grown beyond that point although it took a long, long, LONG while. Drinking to not feel the pain, drinking to feel included, drinking to the point of not caring, drinking like the party girl to not get hurt, “fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry”, “gotta get out now, gotta run from this; here comes the shame, here comes the shame”. Yeah, that pretty much wraps it up. I could go into detail about feeling like that, but that’s another blog post for another day.

On to lighter topics. Last night, I carved my first pumpkin. Ever. Sounds crazy, right? To be coming up on 42 years old and to have never carved a pumpkin? Well, it’s true. And to be honest, it’s fucking gross. The inside of pumpkins smell awful. All those pumpkin guts are nasty. There was no way I was going to toast those seeds. I just couldn’t see putting that in my mouth. Yuck! However, we got a book of stencils and we have at least four left which means that we’ll be doing a second round before Halloween shows up. Here’s round one:

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Lovey did the bat, and I did the other..thing. You can tell more from this shot that it’s two people holding hands than it’s also a skull. Gotta get that from just the right angle to see it in that way. Overall, I’m good with how these came out. Even though the pumpkin head on the left actually lost its head and it’s held together with toothpicks. I guess I won’t be quitting my day job to become a pumpkin carver any time soon.

Last thing I want to touch on before I move right along with my day is positivity and getting shit done. On the forward-facing front, I do well with the positivity. We all have problems and hearing mine doesn’t make anyone’s day better so I keep that shit to myself. It isn’t that I’m trying to present myself as something I’m not, I just internalize a lot of stuff. Then there’s that getting shit done part. Another of my weak points when it comes to my own personal life. At work, no problem. I’ll tackle my tasks, your tasks, her tasks, and his tasks, and likely get them all done. But when the only overseer is me, I slack. That’s right. You heard me. I slack on myself. Probably the worst possible place to be slacking.

All of this when I have goals, or at least things that I know I should do. Things I know I can do if I just put my mind to them. Things I know I can do and do well if I would just get out of my own head. Things that would get done if I could simply let go of this fear of failure. Because you can’t fail if you never start, right?

But that isn’t how I want to live my life. That’s not how anyone should live their life. I’ve been trying to ingest some positive vibes to keep myself on a good level and to encourage me to do what I know I can do. What I’ve been told I can do. What’s waiting for me on the other side of that door if I just grow up and open it. Starting today. Starting now. So, for the two people whom I “scope” the most, know that my effort is real. My effort is sincere. And my effort is for me. Here we go.

Back Down Memory Lane

I was going to insert that song, but as I started to listen to the lyrics outside of the chorus, it just didn’t go with what I’m looking for here. And The Little River Band is so much more appropriate for so many reasons.

Many, many moons ago, like half my lifetime ago and then some, I was a shy kid who never felt like she fit in anywhere. (I still don’t fit in, but it’s purposely these days.) I struggled so much with my identity back then. I felt like I was always a step behind and that I would never catch up. I suppose that chronologically speaking, I was behind since I was a few years younger than the majority of the people I hung out with, but for the purpose of today’s story, that is neither here nor there.

Sidebar: I’m making breakfast as I write. FOUR SLICES?!?!  Four slices is one serving of Canadian bacon? That’s a lot.

So, as this child, I wanted nothing more than to be a part of the group and to do what they were doing. Sometimes this worked, but sometimes it did not. And the did not times were the ones that happened to be the most important ones to me. I knew that there wasn’t anything I could do to force the did not times, so I didn’t try. I wallowed quietly in my sorrow (except for that one time I locked myself in a room and played the same song over and over and over just crying it out.) and figured that was just the way life was gonna be.

I never vocalized these things, just let them fester (which led to a whole lotta things down the road, like RAMPAGE), and for the most part, it all went unnoticed. Except for by one person. I swear to you that I only had this revelation within the last year. This person saw my pain and waited until just the right time and took it away. Said person gave me the one thing that I was looking for, and for that, I am grateful.

I know this is ultra-vague but sometimes, that’s just the way it’s gotta be. The person of whom I’m speaking will likely never read this. The possibly one person who would know about this and might read this probably still wouldn’t put these things together. Still, and always, what a debt of gratitude is owed. That person is the one who started me on the journey to who I am now (so blame them, lol).  So to my Rude Dog, my ride-or-die before that was even a thing, and most importantly, my friend, I say thank you. What you did for me cost you nothing, but it was worth millions to me.

And on that vague note, I’m outta here! Let’s see if we can’t make this short week fly by!

 

On rejection

Listo.  I just don't know what for.

I should probably be better at this by now.  I am 33 after all.  All grown up, with grown up thoughts and feelings.  MOST of the time.  I guess I've just never gotten used to it or I try my best to avoid situations in where rejection may come into play.

Growing up, I lived in a fairly tight-knit community.  Our road was just about a mile long and of all the families, I'd say at least 80% had children in the same age range.  So, let's see.  There was me, my brother, Michelle, Shawn, Lori, Amy, another Shawn, occasionally a Justin and a Tisha, Matt, Mikey and Larry.  As we got older and ventured off of our road and onto the next, we picked up Scott, Larry and Donna.  Others came and went, but that first group were the main players.  Now, I'm not a girly girl.  I never have been. (My mom was kinda bummed about it but my dad dug it.)  I didn't have Barbies, didn't want them.  I had a Cabbage Patch Kid – Addi Trista – but only because it was a present from an out-of-town relative.  I wanted to run and jump and rough-house.  With the boys.  And they let me.  Could have been out of fear of my father, but I like to think it was because they were just amazed that a GIRL wanted to do these things.

Don't get me wrong.  I tried.  I tried playing Barbies but I just found it to be ridiculous.  Sitting inside the house on a perfectly good day making up stories about a plastic bitch who's about as real as Santa just wasn't my thing.  And yes, I knew Santa wasn't real from a very young age and I spoiled it for both my brother and cousin.  But me and Barbie, we never saw eye to eye.  I won't even say it was because Barbie didn't have any black friends because I was a little older before I realized that THAT would/could be an issue.

Out of the few girls, I mostly hung out with Michelle and Lori.  It was an odd situation.  I was in the same grade as Amy, but closer in age to Michelle and Lori.  So here's the thing.  I could hang out with any one of them on their own and we'd get along fine but as soon as a thrid person came into the mix it was see you later me.  It was like I played second fiddle to everyone on the block.  For a while, the three of us hung out.  We had a "club".  Until one day, Michelle and Lori decided that I wasn't cool enough to be in the club any more and they told me I was out.   Mmmm, mmm.  Rejection tastes good.  Like road kill.

Let's jump ahead to school years.  I went to a private school through 4th grade.  Not because we were rich or the public school wasn't good, but because I have a late birthday and public school wouldn't take me.  The transition to public school wasn't an easy one.  The only person I knew was Amy and she assimilated a lot better than I did.  Some of the kids were friendly, like the trio that approached me as soon as I got there exclaiming that my birthday was close to theirs.  Some were not, like the boy who ran up behind me and said "We don't like little black girls."

As a sidebar, that same boy ended up being one of my very good friends by the end of high school.  What up JR?

The school year went on and people made friends, but not me.  Mmmm, mmmm.  Rejection tastes better with a side of school mashed potatoes.

High school wasn't much different.  I had a lot of acquaintances, but very few friends.  I had crushes, but never a boyfriend.  Granted, I was two years younger than everyone else, but no one knew that unless I told them.  Even my acquaintances were mostly guys.  Which, of course, didn't go over well with the girls.  Mmmmm, mmmmm.  Say it with me.

I found out pretty quickly that I didn't enjoy the whole rejection scenario at all.  So what did I do?  I started to just cut everyone off.  I figured I didn't need them.  Small town America go fuck yourself.  I left.  I went to NY.  (Rejection in NY tastes like pizza.)  But I came back.

I started re-acquainting myself with people.  I made a friend.  Yes A friend.  She had friends and they let me, the moth,  flit about the outside of their butterfly garden.  Through them I met a guy.  He was nice.  We hit it off.  But then one of their friends thought he would be better off with someone else, so they told him nasty and untrue things about me.  FUCK YOU MIKE GRIMES!  Sorry, that slipped.  But it was all for the best because small town America just wasn't for me.  I left again.

By this time, I just stopped putting myself in positions where I thought I might get rejected.  Rejection is hell on my ego.  It's hell on me in general.  I never got used to it and I never understood why and I certainly never liked it.  It's probably the main reason that I don't have female friends, or any for that matter outside of work (that are within an hour drive).  I've never been able to fit in.  I'm okay with it now.  I have Kiddo and I have Lovey and that's good enough for me at the moment even though they drive me nuts at times.

Lovey's been the best at supporting me in the latest rejection.  Technically, it's not a rejection yet, but I'm not holding my breath on any good news.  A couple weeks ago, I was perusing the classifieds, as I always do job or not, and I saw something interesting.  I figured what could it hurt to send my info.  I kinda forgot about it and when they called me it took a minute to figure out who they were and why they were calling.  Well, we hit it off over the phone and we traded emails and I went to not one, but two interviews and was told when I asked how many other people were in the pool for the position that "I was on top of my game and I shouldn't worry about that.  Read between the lines. :-)".  Okay, maybe what I read between those lines wasn't what they meant.  But, when you've met an entire team and everyone liked you and then you hear something like that, what would you think?

So here's where it's technically not a rejection yet.  I was assured that all candidates would be notified one way or the other when a decision was made.  I got the impression that they wanted to get this done sooner rather than later.  But today, I saw an ad posted for the exact same position.  For me, that rejection tastes like bad mangos because now, even if they call and say I've got it, I feel like they didn't really want me but no one else applied and we need a warm body.  I don't think I'd be able to accept if they did offer it now because I don't play second fiddle.  Or third.  Or fourth.  Am I wrong?  Am I crazy?  Any thoughts?

HEP!

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