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.

ROCO Friday – Safety Meetings

 

The congregation is at a near frenzy. The thought that the good Reverend might be returning today has an excited buzz rolling through the crowd. Electrified whispers start at the front of the room and spread to the back. Suddenly, a hush falls across the room as a solitary figure steps towards the pulpit.

*clears throat*

Good morning, my dear friends. You have been missed. Please know that the Reverend MiamiShyner has been itching to get back and speak to you. Let the congregation say ROCO.

Today, this wonderful Friday, let us talk about dancing, dancing safely, and safety meetings. We might also touch on the paranormal, but first things first: dancing. Oh yes, we all do it. Whether you admit it or not, at some point, probably today, you’ve either busted out a dance move, no matter how small. Perhaps you’re doing choreography in your head right now. If so, good on ya. If not and you haven’t even thought about busting a move today, get up and do so. I’ll wait……

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Yeah, Tina. Get it.

That’s also about how I look when making attempts at dancing. Yep, I am the anti-stereotype. Black girl that can’t sing or dance and has no ass. I also hate watermelon and fried chicken isn’t high on my list of loves either. On the whole, I haven’t dated within my race (OMG, the horror!) and that’s not how I married. I contributed to the world interracial fund with a daughter and I think everyone else should too. Let the congregation say ROCO. But I digress.

Weekday mornings, I rise from my slumber and head to the yoga dungeon/workout lair/basement to visit with Shaun T.  You know, you gotta love a Shaun T workout, unless it’s any of the Insanity ones in which case you can kiss the crack of my black ass. But Hip Hop Abs, Rockin Body, and Cize? Yeah. All day, every day. It’s dancing and dancing is fun. Or, at least, what I call dancing is fun.

Shaun T says everyone/anyone can dance. You know, I hate to call shenanigans on him, but I have to disagree. Everyone/anyone can follow choreography. Not everyone can dance. Like me, for instance. I can follow your choreography and get it down pretty quickly. Does that mean I look like I’m dancing? Nope. People around me might be doing the same thing and looking like they’re dancing, but I’ll look like I’m having a seizure. So, yes, everyone can follow choreography when broken down correctly, but not everyone can dance.

And I can’t dance safely. One might think for the activities in which I participate, that I would be much less of a klutz. But no, guess again. I fall over my own feet in any sort of complicated footwork, and this morning, I managed to strain my side. Dancing. Maybe I should just call what I do spazzing. The harder I try, the worse it looks, lol. You don’t believe me? Go ahead and watch that little clip below and laugh. My left side! It hurts, lol.

There you go. Proof that I can’t dance. And especially not safely.

I can, however, and have been known to in the past, ahem, conduct a safety meeting. What? I’m unapologetically me. I don’t do things to hurt others. And as long as I stay on that path, I’mma do WTF I want. Just like Eric Cartman. And, I live in Colorado, so bite me. Bite me like I’m a weed infused cookie that you’re dying to try.

Anywho, on a completely different topic, do you ever wonder if your house is haunted? When I was a kid and my great-grandfather died, we moved into his house. Now, we’re talking early 80s here. When houses were sturdy but wiring was probably questionable. After we moved in, odd stuff happened. Lights would turn off or come on of their own volition. A few electrical-type things happened, but the adults laughed it off. Once, just once, I heard an adult say that it was Grandpap doing it, but I think they also realized that I overheard that so then it became a full-on force about wiring. Adults, they’re crazy. Kids, they know the paranormal truth.

Jump ahead about 30 years and here we are in this house. We really know nothing of the history of it, and fortunately a Google search doesn’t turn up anything. However, the reality is that this neighborhood is basically a retirement community which means the probability of someone having passed under this roof is probably high. Not anything to be frightened of in my book. Many were the times I went into my grandparents’ house after my grandfather had passed there. I lived in my parents’ house after my father passed there. And now, on occasion, I hear people talking (and I make sure it’s not the landscapers) or I’ll hear music when I know that it isn’t coming from anything I’m doing nor anything my neighbors are doing. Fun, right?? I’m still waiting to experience something definite. I’ll let you know.

In the meantime, however, I’m off to do some Friday-type shit. Wishing you all a good weekend and a better Pittsburgh sports night tonight than last night was. #cutScobee