Happy Friday: 7 Things I'm Bad At That Don't Matter

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I had a semi-crappy week. As such, I need to remind myself that I'm not actually bad at everything, it just seems that way sometimes. Also, not all of the things I'm bad at are life-destroying. Here's my list of stuff I suck at that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

7 Things I'm Bad At That Don't Matter

1) Brushing my teeth. Of course I'm good at brushing my teeth, technically. I'm just really, really messy at it. The toothpaste foam that forms dribbles down my chin and usually lands on my shirt. I often walk around while I brush and frequently find dried toothpaste spray around the house on mirrors, TVs, counters, tables, walls...You get it. Messy!

2) Reading books/magazines. I subscribe to seven magazines. Most of them sit in un-presentable stacks around the house for WAY longer than a month. I also have a book buying sickness, which I think I've finally kicked, but it's lead me to having a house filled with tomes I've owned for a few years but haven't even cracked the spines on.

3) Checking emails. I have three email accounts: one for family/friends and serious personal business, one for applying for jobs and one for entering contests and other crap. I can go a few days without checking any of them. Then I end up with 700 unread emails and freak the fuck out, do better for a bit and then fall behind again. Oh, well. No one's dying from this one.

4) Skipping dessert. Only happens if I'm sick or so full I might get sick if I inhale one more might. As far as vices go? Not horrible.

5) Waking up early. I fucking hate it. End. Of. Story.

6) Fixing my hair. I have no appreciable skills in this area. I would much rather wear a scarf or hat all day, every day. So, I frequently do.

7) Drinking hooch. One drink and I'm done. And it better basically taste like Kool-Aid, or I'm out. I didn't even start to get a taste for sugary, pansy-assed mixed drinks until about 12 years after I turned 21. I've never been drunk and likely never will be. I can go for several months without having any kind of booze, and I'm totally OK with that.

There's my list. Now? Internet!

1) X-Men Muppets? Yes!

2) Age, dammit! AGE!

3) People who do amazing things only have one different trait from those who don't. Simple as that.

4) Caffrey the cat only has two legs. I love him.

5) This is just fun. Also, it involves cats, so, you know, there's my wheelhouse!

That's all for me. Let me know, what are you bad at that doesn't matter?

Happy Valentine's Day To Me

I slept until almost noon today. I haven't done that in years, but I had a crappy time last night. So did HUBS, and it was his birthday.

He wanted to build a new computer. We'd done our taxes and were getting a pretty good refund; but there were other pressing issues. The plumbing in our kitchen is shot and we need to pay his property tax from last year. I talked to him about it and told him I didn't like the idea of him spending so much, right now, on a computer when his isn't blown out. And I know his parents talked to him about it.

HUBS is angry. He's angry that he's 42 and can't just buy what he wants he wants to. He's angry that I don't have a job. He's angry that he feels like our whole financial life rests on his shoulders. He's angry that he has a job he basically enjoys, but where they've told him outright that he won't be able to move ahead if he stays there. He's angry that every time he comes close to getting a higher paying gig...he doesn't. All of that makes sense to me.

So last night, instead of enjoying his birthday, he told me how angry he was, is and will be about things until I get a job. It took a few hours. And when he took a break to shower I sat watching Access Hollywood, with a growing headache, and considered just walking out the door and getting into my car and not telling him where I was going or when I was coming back because I didn't know.

I stayed. When he came back into the room I apologized for being a depressed, unemployed and ambition-less loser. I apologized for leaving my job at exactly the wrong economic time, letting the process of applying for and not getting jobs demoralize me and giving up over and over again. I apologized for not knowing how to make working for myself work and for hating whatever office or retail job I might get in the future until I can make real money writing. I apologized for not caring about sex enough to do it when I don't want to and not even trying to find a job for the past seven months.

Then, we went to dinner. We drowned our sorrows in food and booze, and I, for one, felt no better.

I realized this morning, laying in bed trying to go back to sleep, that none of the things I want seem even remotely real or possible for me. For other people, sure. But not me. Whenever I try moving toward those things, I feel good only on the surface. Deep inside, there's a tight ball of tense fear that forms and says This will never happen, but you just keep on keeping on.

I don't feel special enough to have what I want. So, I stop trying and the fear of wanting goes away. I think that's why I sabotage myself so much.

The only way to get through the fear is to feel it and do the things I'm scared of, but I haven't mastered that. At all.

Clearly, I have some things to work on.

What's the scariest thing you've ever done? How did you make yourself do it anyway?

Music Monday: Soul Laid Bare

You know what I'm happy about today? My ability to use this blog to talk about life in a real way.

For most of my life I've felt like a singularly fucked up individual. Logically I knew that other people must be feeling lonely, useless, stupid or ill-equipped for life, but there was no way to tell if I knew any of those people because folks don't talk about things like that.

I certainly don't believe we should discuss everything with everyone all the time, but I do think a little selfless experience sharing (especially when that experience was negative) can help the sharer and the sharee.

When people feel alone they do lots of dumb things to themselves and others out of desperation. I talk about my experiences with depression, anxiety, loneliness, guilt, procrastination and fear not just to work through my own issues and get them off my chest and out of my mind, but so that somebody who feels like they have to keep crawling out of the same hole can read about me doing the same thing. And, hopefully, feel less alone and hopeless because of it.

In a small way, I feel like it's a public service to all the loners and losers in the world. Now that I think about it, so is spreading some aural cheer. Shall we?









If your blog is essentially a diary, how do you decide how much sharing to do?