Tuesday Tipday: Rid Yourself of Dream Paralysis

I subscribe to a lot of email lists, most with the hope of learning new things to help me grow as a person or professional. Sometimes, though, it's good to have an old nugget of wisdom re-worded for me and brought to my attention again.

That's what I got today when I finally read a four day old email from Write To Done. It was a guest post written by a guy who started blogging to document the process of writing a novel.

He talked about something I have struggled with for many years: letting my dreams become so big that I can't act on them. The best advice he gave is no less true for being well-known: Decision=Action. If you can make a decision, even a small one, regarding your dream of success/freedom/a better, happier life, it will lead to action. And action leads to (eventually) living your dream realistically. That means living your dream with all the highs and lows and plateaus that were likely stymieing you in the first place.

If dream paralysis has a hold on you, read How To Dream Without Making Dreams Your Master. It just might make a sense of ease wash over you.

I Feel Much Better When I Accomplish Things. Why Do I Continually Need To Relearn This?

Wow, you guys. I got a shit-ton done yesterday, and it wasn't even a Wednesday!

I applied for eight jobs yesterday. That's the most actual jobs I've ever applied for in one day. When I say actual jobs, I mean there were job openings listed, as opposed to me just sending out random resumes and cover letters to places I'd like to work, thinking Notice me! Like me! Hire me! Please? Please!

It was quite nice to be able to truly relax when HUBS got home. There were less shouldas hanging around my brain making it hard to concentrate on Tara's third season. I was spurred on by HUBS' activity on Monday night. The man applied for 14 jobs in five hours. I tried, but after eight jobs and four and a half hours, my brain just dried the fuck out.

I still need to write my query letters and my freelance writing marketing letters. But, I do feel good about Tuesday's productivity level. So, yay for accomplishment. But, boo for basically needing to accomplish the exact same stuff every day!

Ah, well. 'Tis life, my friends.

What do you have to keep relearning?

I Just Realized We Should Have Known My Dad Was A Dick All Along

Me and my mom in the mid-1990s. I know I was in college, because OH MY GOD I LOVED THAT SHIRT WHEN I WAS IN COLLEGE!


Alright, I didn't just realize it. It's more like I realized it last Thursday. Here's what happened.

I started thinking about the one screenplay I've completed, which is mostly based on the things that actually happened when my dad walked out on PT (yes, that's my mom). I was going over some things and my mind landed on the fact that, in the screenplay, the dad character calls the mom character by a shortened version of her actual name. Which the mom happens to hate. This is directly taken from what really went on with my folks.

And then it hit me: No one who cares about someone would call that person by a name they dislike on purpose.

PT's name is Clementine. According to her, she's hated her name since birth. Because of that, no one ever calls her by it, she goes by Tina. But, the entire time I was growing up and right through their divorce, do you know what my dad called her? Clem.

I know what you're thinking, Well, that's not her full name. Here's the problem: PT HATED CLEM MUCH MORE THAN SHE HATED CLEMENTINE.

It was blatantly obvious. Every time my dad said her name, PT would cringe, grimace or roll her eyes a bit. There were even times when you could see her go from happy to disappointed when she heard his moniker for her.

What's even worse is that I can remember PT telling him, on many occasions when I was little, that she didn't want to be called Clem. But, what did he do? He kept right on calling her Clem.

What kind of person does this? Only an arrogant, selfish, uncaring DICK...That's who. How could I not have put this (as far as I'm concerned) critical bit of info together as evidence of his DICKness sooner?

Maybe it's one of those things where I was too young and too close to it. I knew PT hated what he called her and that it sucked that he did it anyway, but I had to get to 37 years old without having any contact with the man for 16 years to really piece together what his denial of her simple request meant: I DON'T THINK HE EVER CARED ABOUT HER. NOT REALLY.

And that makes me so sad for my mom, who spent 22 years in a marriage where she wasn't truly valued. I suppose the little things do matter a lot.

Dammit...now I'm crying.

Word To The Wise

If you're using the NuvaRing for birth control, don't skip a month because you don't have enough money for the prescription. Find the cash, yo. Especially if you were prone to heavy periods prior to starting on the thing, because your body? She will not like that.

I skipped my ring usage back in July, and as a result had my period for almost the full month of August and a heavy period in September. I'm tellin' you, it's like my four years on the thing didn't matter at all! And? Do you know how stressful it is to have low-grade bleeding for three weeks? I've never used any other form of lady-time-interruptus birth control, so I don't know if this would happen with the others, but...Gah!

The one ring...it really does rule them all.

What They Don't Tell You

Small splurge #1 thanks to my mom: two rings from girlprops.com that I've been lusting over for Four Whole Months. Thanks Mom!

I've been largely unemployed for over two years now (minus the 5 months at the
warehouse) and I've realized something. Being unemployed makes you cheap.

Overall this isn't a bad thing. I look for deals more often, use more coupons (even though I must say that I've always been a bit addicted to deals and coupons anyway), and wait a lot longer to buy things if I buy at all.

The part I don't like is that even the most reasonable prices seem too high for everything, all the time. HUBS and I both have the occasional stomach problems, meaning we go through tons of toilet paper. I cannot tell you how many times I've looked at the price for my favorite kind of TP and thought Dammit! $6.98! Who do they think I am? King Midas, for fucks sake! And, really, I know $7 for 12 double rolls of my favorite TP is a reasonable indulgence. I mean, it amounts to about $14 a month, unless I have a coupon.

Clothes, jewelry and other accessories give me the same feeling. Logically, I know $40 isn't bad for a well-made blouse, and it's really good for something like a dress or blazer, but if anything costs more than $10 I don't want to pay for it. Actually, not only do I not want to pay for it, but I usually rant and curse and rave against the manufacturer. Who do they think they are? Those piece a shit shoes aren't worth $98! They don't even cover the whole foot! God Damn them...!



Another small bit of loot included these girly things: lip balm, glitter eye shadow and glitter nail polish. I think there may be a theme there.

The net effect is that I want to buy less. I honestly don't want things the way I used to. Even magazines are less appealing, since I'm not using them to get shopping ideas like I used to. The idea of shoes and purses and jewelry is nice, but I'm pretty much sticking with my list of wants for what to buy when I can, a little at a time. Impulse purchases are pretty much non-existent now. And that's nice when you have little disposable cash and no credit to speak of.

Being unemployed is keeping me out of trouble. Finally.

Just Call Me Crotchety McGibbons

I'm becoming mighty prickly.

I think not having a good, close group of friends is making me grouchy. See, we have these neighbors. They moved into the nice, big house next door late last fall. And since then they have proceeded to host every kind of party and get-together known to man. Housewarmings, dinner parties, baby showers, wedding showers, study groups and God only knows what else. Sometimes, like last week, they have two parties within a couple of days.

Sometimes the entire street is lined with cars...for them. Often our parking spots right in front of our house are taken. This irritates me and HUBS more than you can imagine. And, since we're both overly introspective people we know why that is. It's not because of the parking spots, really. It's because they have friends.

People who willingly spend oodles of time with them, talking/laughing/commiserating/celebrating/dining and all the other things friends do with each other.

I'm incredibly embarrassed by this. HUBS and citygirl are jealous. Jealous of nice, fun-loving people who brought us cookies when they first moved in, again on Christmas day and left Valentine's treats for us.

We've been meaning for months to ask them out for coffee. They're young and seem nice and not-at-all-crazy (unlike so many of our neighbors) and they live right next door. Aside from the fact that we've had a lot going on, I think the real reason we haven't manned-up and done it is that we're scared and intimidated. Can two people who haven't had close friends is several years (that's us) make friends with two people who have gaggles of buds (that's them)? Will they like us? Will they think we're weird and move to get away from us? They are social and they are liked, can people who are THAT LIKED like us?

I know all we can do is try, and that the worst that would likely happen is we won't hit it off. I'm really awed by my inexperience in the making-friends area of this big ball of odd we call life.

Any suggestions from the internet?

Wha???

How in the hell did we get to fucking June already? I swear, the older I get the more it's like time has no meaning whatsoever.

Remember how, when you were a little kid, it seemed like the school year would neeeever eeeeeeeend? And then, during your freshman year of high school (after you realized there was just going to be more of the same clique-y bullshit as in junior high) you felt like graduation was decades away? Then, before you knew it you'd already graduated from college, gotten your first real job, quit that one, gotten another, moved a lot and now here we are at 35 with only a few months left to 36 and 40 staring us down fast and furious?

Well, I have to say, though, I'm already looking forward to fall. Oh yeah...

So Glad...

* for summer fruits and veggies
* HUBS has a 3 day weekend
* I mixed two nail polishes together and got a cool, sparkly, plummy color for my toes
* it finally stopped raining
* I quit my factory job
* I read Steering by Starlight
* for kittens frolicking
* for a break from oppressive heat
* I can go pant-less all day
* we might be able to get away next weekend
* I've gotten good things done the past couple of days
* that I have creative ideas
* about the new blog project I'm working on
* for my readers (Thank you! And have a wonderful holiday weekend!)

Things I Have No Interest In

Even though I feel, sometimes, helplessly confused about how exactly to get what I want out of life, I do believe most of my basic preferences are pretty much set. I think it's absolutely true that people just get more set in their ways as they age. And, as I get older, I realize some things just aren't for me.

1) Walking barefoot. I don't get it and never have. Isn't that how you get tapeworms...or something?

2) Politics. I've tried. I honestly have. But, aside from a passing interest that'll let me vote with some confidence, I'd rather not think about it.

3) Drinking. Now that my bar reviewing days appear to be over, I love not drinking alcohol when I go out if I don't want to. And for the past three weeks, I haven't wanted to.

4) Hostessing. I have never thrown a party as an adult. Or a get-together at my home. Hell, I've rarely even had company. 99% of my own family has never even seen my house. As much as I think life may be easier/more fun if I were all social like, I like it like that. I know my folks, most of them don't give a shit about their own stuff, much less anyone else's. Plus, I've seen people disrespect other's hard earned things dozens of times. I'd really hate to let a lot of folks (or a few even) into my house to have fun and see my place fucked beyond my liking. Really. Would. Hate.

5) Deadlines and repetition. I know, I know - an inevitable fact of life, especially for a creative, freelancing type like me. But, from college to the present day I've watched myself begin to hate things I love after being endlessly forced to do them repeatedly and according to someone else's schedule. It's stupid. Can I change it? Maybe not. Would life be easier if I could? Probably yes.

6) Swallowing pills. An issue from the time I was a little kid. Taking even the smallest pill floods my mind with visions of choking to death. I am nothing if not imaginative!

7) Reality tv. Sure, I flirted with The Real World 18 years ago when I was a high schooler who dreamt of life outside those hideous walls. Now, though, the endlessness of the stupidity is nothing but unbearably irritating and boring. Unless we're talking about So You Think You Can Dance? or America's Got Talent. I'm all over that shit every time.

8) Keeping friends. I have, at 35 years old, failed to make one deep, long-lasting friendship. Aside from HUBS, my closest friend lives 5 hours away and we barely communicate. Though when we do it's just like old times, which is good, at least. And I've recently reconnected with a high school/college/mid-20s friend since she found me on Facebook, but she lives in Boston now. I'd love to have a good friend right here to commiserate with, hang with and laugh with other than HUBS. I can't decide if I know too little or too much about myself to make that happen.

9) Being outgoing. Sure, I've had spurts here and there that always take a Herculean effort. I'm quiet. I'm a thinker. I'm a listener. I'm a seether. That's me.

10) Kids. Bully for you if you adore the little buggers and want to have loads of them. I can honestly say the idea of child birth/child rearing/child-being-around-all-the-time has never struck me as something I need to do. I don't hate kids or people who have kids. I simply don't feel the pull.

11) Not creating. Here I am writing a blog that only a few people read which makes me no money, and yet I do it anyway. I love to write without boundaries. I also love photography, music, art and the occasional random creative pursuit. I love making things, and make I shall continue to do.

What do you have no interest in?

Internet Anonymity Strikes Again

A few weeks ago I asked for advice. A guy named Neal, who's never commented on my blog before, popped up with some choice words for me. I tried to find out a little bit about Neal, but his profile is private so who knows what the dude is all about. But, he does not seem to like me.

Anyway, he's now commented twice on my blog and I think he's way off about a lot of stuff. You can read his words after this post and this one, but below I've highlighted (in italics) some of the things he said and why I think he's wrong. Let's go.

That precious image you've carried of yourself all these many years, the gay, fun-loving life, the social whirl, being admired for your accomplishments, being the center of attention, having it all revolve around you . . . And now confronted by the reality of being 35 and it ain't nothin' like that.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Neal, you obviously don't know as much about me as you think you do. I have absolutely never been a part of any social whirl or the center of attention to anyone but my mom when I was a kid. Nothing has ever "revolved around" me and I've never been anything, admittedly, but slightly above average in most respects. I've always been firmly sure of my reality in this world, which doesn't mean I can't change it. We're not working with a caste system here.

Nope, sorry, not true. That's the fourteen-year-old speaking, the child who's convinced the world revolves around her dreams.

So, because I have dreams that makes me a child? God, you're pretentious. Congratulations on apparently not having any hopes or goals for your own life, Neal. Too bad the rest of us can't be as mature as you and not want anything. If I thought the world revolved around my dreams I'd be in relentless, bloody, damn-everyone-else pursuit of them every minute of everyday. Is anyone with the desire to move beyond their current station in life a mindless child, too? I guess all the homeless people should just give up now, huh?

You're certainly not "the ultimate Jill of All Trades," so maybe you should stop saying that to yourself.

Guess what? You don't get to tell me, or anyone else, how to define themselves. I may not be famous, but I'm a fucking good writer and photographer and I do get paid for it. I'm also a painter, chef, baker, driver, listener, joke teller, collage artist and expert maker of bathing paraphernalia. Dispute all those if you wish, but you don't know me, so you can't.

Remember when you were wide-eyed and fresh and 21? You should have married a doctor, or maybe Sergi Brin or some other dork destined to be a billionaire. A little late for that, now, huh?

I don't even know what you mean here. I shouldn't have gone to college? I shouldn't attempt to do fun, interesting, enjoyable things with my life? I should have married young, spit out a bunch of kids and lived off someone else for my whole life? How dare you suggest that that's the end all be all of what I'm good for. Again, you don't know me.

I notice that when I got a job you didn't comment on that post. I guess there was too much honest joy in that one for you. By the way, I had been looking for literally any job I could get for several months by the time you suggested it. I'd applied at every store in the mall, Borders, WalMart, Best Buy and Target among others. I knew I needed any gig that would bring in any extra money. I'm not an idiot.

You also mentioned that I was "self-centered". Who else should I be centered on when I write this blog? There's no indication anywhere on the page that it's going to be about politics, global warming, world hunger, world peace, celebrity meltdowns or how everyone can analyze their handwriting. This blog is essentially my diary. Sorry, but that means it's about me and the people in my immediate circle.

This space is for me to look at what I do, don't do, think, don't think and the reasons behind it all. And, who else is going to have my best interest at heart 100% of the time no matter when or where I am? Me. Basically, my blog my rules. If you don't like my introspection feel free to leave my house.

Since I Need To Chill

I've made a decision about this here ol' blog o' mine. I'm going to try not to bitch every day. Considering the crap that's going on around here with my no-job-having-no-unemployment-getting-fucked-up-credit-card self, the (I hope) understandable temptation is to blog-bitch day in and day the fuck out. But...

I need some way to relax a bit. A way to push the world away and laugh again. And so do you, fair reader. So, I'll get back to bitching tomorrow (do I ever have a story to tell about today), but until then, enjoy this:

The End of Things

I have no idea what to say to you guys anymore.

Could you possibly want to hear more about my being unemployed? Or about my boring days at home? Or HUBS and my boring nights at home?

This is why I post so infrequently: I'm boring. We don't socialize, we have no friends. The people I used to work with have proven they don't actually care because they don't bother to send a simple email (with the exception of two of them).

There was a brief moment, from January to December of 2005 where I was doing a lot of new and exciting things. Taking classes, traveling to places I'd never been, alone, and talking to new people and doing a lot of new stuff.

I want that back. I had tricked myself into thinking I was a tad outgoing and adventurous. Now, with two years of no practice, I'm back to the same old home-body, boring chick. Is it possible to love being at home too much? I think so.

I've become scared again. Every time I consider a real change, I chicken out. It never gets done. I'm complacent again. I hate it. I wear the same 5 t shirts and 3 pairs of pajama pants in the house. When I leave home I wear the same 3 sweaters and two pairs of pants. I am not inspired. I have no idea who I am or what I want anymore. Every bit of excitement in my past feels like a warm dream - something that never really happened.

I'm needing for things to be new and different again. I'll be back when I've made that happen. Until then, please check out my photoblog. I'll still be posting there, because when all else fails I still take pictures. Feel free to leave comments, the photos there are mighty lonely.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year

Ick, Ick and More Ick

All right, this one ain't so bad.

Because of all the incidents lately with spiders, I was thinking the other day about all the stuff that freaks/icks me out. And since I love you guys, here's a list:

1) Bugs. By "bugs" I mean anything with more than four legs or less than two. We're talking spiders, centipedes, mosquitoes, dragon flies, worms, maggots, roaches and various other critters. Having said this, some of these are worse than others. I mean, if a cricket landed on my foot briefly I wouldn't like it, but I wouldn't exactly want to kill myself either. But, to be touched by, say, a cockroach? I'm dying just thinking aobut it.

2) Flying things. This is kinda part of #1, except that I have issues with anything with wings. Meaning? Lady bugs, butterflies, moths, birds of all ilk, and airplanes are included. And yes, I understand that butterflies are pretty and lady bugs are harmless (some folks even believe they bring good luck) and the occasional bird can be gorgeous. This does not change their "Holy God!" factor when I'm minding my own business and they suddenly start to circle.

3) Clowns. Let's not pretend that there's no evil under all that makeup. If you've read It by Stephen King or seen the movie...You know just what the fuck I'm talking about.

4) Snails. We came home a couple of night ago to find two of the little slime balls on our porch. Can you believe some people eat these things? How desperate for food do you have to be to see one of these slimy, stalk-eyed blobs and go "Fry it up, Frank. I can't wait for a cow to happen by anymore." Blech...

5) Squid and octopi. Again, people eat this crap. And get all excited about the ink! the ink! God, what is wrong with the world? I can see eating these when you had no choice, but now? Isn't there a McDonald's near you?

6) Raw or rare meat. This disgusts me so that, when cooking, I won't touch raw meat/fish/poultry. I mean it. I use knives, forks, whatever, but will NEVER EVER touch this stuff with bare hands. Also? How do reasonably sane people eat meat running through with blood? I'll tell you how. They. Are. Crazy.

7) Wet hair. If it's attached to your head, fine. If it's circling the drain or hanging off a towel...I'm dry heaving.

8) Sweat. For some reason there are folks who find sweaty people erotic or something. Well, let's get this straight: I don't care how good looking you are, if you're sweaty you stink and if you stink I want no part of you until you clean yourself up. Mmmm'kay?

9) Bodily fluids. No one needs details here, do you? Let me say, though, I don't know how parents do it. With the children and the diapers and the spit-up and the snot...God...Dry...Heave...

10) Dirty bathrooms. Oh Jesus, guys. I have seen some horrendous public bathrooms. Like when I went on a geology field trip in college to some state cave site. The bathroom was literally just a hole in the ground. And there was smoke coming up out of it. What? Really state park? This is the level best you can do? Or at some boardwalk in Florida when I was about 10. There were no stalls, and the ENTIRE BATHROOM (toilets included) was covered in graffiti and...other...things. My mom and I waited about two hours to pee that day.