Month: May 2015

Sometimes, it’s not about who you are. It’s about who you aren’t.

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I was fortunate to be raised by parents who were sane. Who were traditional and content and grateful. Life wasn’t always easy for them, especially when they were first married. I’ve heard the stories and as I get older, I appreciate them even more.

It’s not my place to tell the stories, but I can tell you, having grown-up with a large and happy family isn’t anything I take for granted anymore.

Sometimes words come out of my mouth and they are my Mom’s. Sometimes they are my Dad’s. I’m good with both.

I have never struggled with who I am. I’m very clear and certain about that, but it’s when I do or say things that aren’t me.

I did it.

I said it.

I’m responsible for it.

I don’t know who it was but I can tell it wasn’t me because it doesn’t feel right. It feels foreign and uncomfortable. That happens to me every time to do the “Now you’re suppose to…” but I don’t know I’m doing that until after the fact.

People often wonder who they are.

I can help. Though I may not know you personally, I can give you a basic outline:

  • You’re simple but try to prove to everyone how complicated you are. Beauty is in simplicity, not complications. You figure if you’re complicated, you’re more interesting. It’s not working, so stop it.
  • You’re a tad bit naive but you hate me telling you that.
  • You have a sweet nature about you, even if it’s buried.
  • It doesn’t take much to make you happy, but as you’ve gotten older, your shoulders have started to slump. This worries you.
  • You think you’re a body, but you know that you aren’t, and you’ve got the two confused.
  • You feel more sorrow and sadness from the things you’ve done, but try to convince yourself it’s from what others have done to you. Stop lying to yourself. We’re all the same way.
  • There are moments when life makes sense, but then some asshole comes along, and you listen to them, rather than yourself. You need to dump those people. Fast. But you already knew that. Stop being stupid. You don’t owe anyone your sanity.
  • You have an innate sense of ethics and justice but can’t quite sort it all out.
  • You want people to like you, and the more you tell me this isn’t true, the more I know how much it weighs on you.
  • You feel most people don’t understand you. Well, how can they when you keep making shit complicated when it wasn’t complicated to begin with?

Anything other than creativity, grace, silliness, amusement, patience, gratitude, hopefulness, awareness, civility, intelligence, benevolence, love, fun, respect, admiration, honesty, consideration, fairness, compassion, forgiveness, belief, faith, appreciation, friendliness, integrity and a few more good things are – not you.

Make sense now?

 

 

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wut r werds?

This is truer than I would like to admit.

 

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I have the most brilliant ideas when I’m away from my computer or opening my notepad.

I’ve got the story nailed just as I am falling asleep.

I know exactly how to bring the story together while I’m taking a shower.

That sudden blankness when I tried to figure out how to write a difficult scene? Handled while I’m driving.

I can think of three amazing stories to write, from start to finish, while I’m at work and talking to a client.

What has saved my ass is my phone and being able to talk right into it, but only if no one is around. Otherwise, I look and sound like an escaped mental patient.

“Have her run from the warden, duck under a fence and don’t forget to change the guys name to Howard and be sure to edit the part with the watermelon and pickles so when the stranger comes she’ll know to lock the door and talk to the guy with the eagle.”

Writer’s are perfectly sane.

Sure we are.

Turning 60.

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This is me with a few of my buddies last weekend. We get together every so often, have dinner, and catch-up with each other.

Next month, I turn 60 and you want to know the weirdest thing about it?

It doesn’t bother me in the least.

Yes, there are a few changes that occur when you get older:

I can still get up and down easily, but now I have to do quick trajectories in my head before I get back up.

Hot flashes come and go and there’s nothing so interesting as having one in the middle of a heat wave, while talking on the phone to a client, and having a sudden urge to slam down the phone and find the nearest pile of snow to fall into. Naked.

I can’t have too many fans going at the same time.

I woke-up one morning with an extra 10 pounds on my stomach. The bitch fat fairy came one night and decided that I had maintained my weight too long.

I have energy, but only for shit I care about, such as binge watching shows when I should be exercising, getting up to get another cup of coffee before sitting back down again, eating an extra serving of French bread with more butter, and reaching across the table for the bottle of wine. I have my priorities straight!

I now think twice, sometimes three times, before offering my help to people. I’ve learned most enjoy their drama and I don’t.

My mind is sharper and faster than when I was younger, but I don’t care.

I no longer make apologies for myself.

Sleep is the greatest thing ever invented. Well, sleep and carbs. And wine. And chocolate.

I have no health problems and I’ve earned that.

I regret a few things, but not much. Waste of time. Either handle it or leave it alone.

You’ve only got you. No matter where you go, there you are. I learned to love myself or at least like myself if I’ve been an idiot.

People need to earn me. Few ever make the effort.

I’ll never lose my cynical side and don’t intend to.

I’ll probably have long hair until I die. I refuse to look at the gray roots and color my hair the very second they show up.

Everything is not a battle, but when it is, I’m all in. If not, I’m on the sidelines, cheering others on with a beer and missing a cigarette.

You are who you say you are. Choose wisely.

Most shit in life isn’t personal, even yours.

All you’ve got is now, so might as well kick some ass, or sit down and have another piece of pie.

I hate posts like this, so I’ll shut-up now.

Thank you for telling me how to talk and what to think. Now, piss off.

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Thank you for telling me how to think and what to say. You forgot a very important piece of your conversation with me and it’s this:

I don’t give a shit what you think.

I don’t give a shit on how you think I should be.

I don’t give a shit on how you think I should think.

I learned, a very long time ago, that the lower the IQ of a person is, the greater their delusion of self-importance is. Now let me explain that to you because I am now dealing in the area I am most comfortable in and that is concepts. The use of words will always limit us. They will never be perfect. They will never be the exact idea we’re trying to communicate but its all we have.

I know that our language changes. I know that there are things that people say and do that are offensive to some. I may or may not be a nice person. It has never been a goal of mine to be nice. It has always been a goal of mine to be the most responsible and ethical person I can possibly be and let me tell you, I am always a work in progress.

I judge people by their intentions and their actions. Speaking of judging, that’s another word that has gotten a bad rap and is often misused to slam others. But that’s another blog post. But do I judge people? Hell yes, I do.

Many a time I meant to do the right thing and it turned out badly. The opposite is true also. There have been times when I intended to do something bad and yet found out it ended up being a good thing. Now you tell me, which one of those is important? Well I suppose it would depend on the end results now wouldn’t it?

I am NOT one that runs around and tries to “set people straight”. It is fine with me if you use the “wrong words” but I can see and understand what you mean. That’s what’s important.

If I have a question, I will ask it. I am more than capable and able to form my own thoughts and be responsible for my own actions. I did not and do not care nor did I ask for approval. So when someone says to me “Oh no you must not say that now. The correct word is ____” I shut the door in any further conversation with that person because they are obviously not smart enough to hang with me and understand what I, and others, are trying to say.

I see it online all the time. One person says “I am of such-and-such group, so therefore an expert. You can no longer say _____. We now call ourselves______, so you are now wrong.” Need I list all the “wrong words” or you get my meaning?

Their only self-appointed job is to fix you. If you are so worried about the words that people are using, you need a lot of work for you are not up to the level of real conversation and communication. Communication is nothing more and nothing less than exchanging ideas between two or more people. Talking is not communication. Writing is not communication. Communication is simply getting one idea across a distance to somebody else. Talking and writing are ways of doing that. So if you are hung up on the words that people use, you’re too far down the scale to even be communicating with yourself.

So don’t think you can pull that shit on me. I’ve been down that road too many times to count, so I know for a fact, if someone is looking to be offended, they won’t have to look far. If I want to be offended, give me 3 minutes online and I’ll find something. God knows I’ve been there and I know it comes from a deep-seated place of insecurity. I know when I’ve been like that, I HAD to get everyone to understand ME! ME! It was all about THAT and not about THEM.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, let me assure you that only a small-minded, insecure, and weak person runs around and tries to force everyone to 1) agree with them completely and 2) refuse to listen to others. One of the traits of the weak and insecure is to find fault with everyone else and pounce on it. Hard. Picking on their words, rather than the real communication, is a tool that they use and so many fall for it. It’s an easy thing to do and they tend to be lazy.

I’ve often said the wrong thing and been quietly corrected with a great amount of kindness and understanding. I did not know that the word “midget” was offensive for it was the only word I knew and the only word that everyone used. I said it to a little person and he graciously and without fanfare, pulled me aside later and explained it to me. He could SEE I meant no harm or disrespect. He could SEE what I was saying and was in agreement with it. He just wanted me to know that the vocabulary had changed. I was quite appreciative for I do not want to offend people if I can help it.

I’ve done the same with people. Heard them say a word that isn’t used here, told them quietly, and 95% of them appreciated it. The other 5% wanted to offend people. I’m sure they accomplished their goal.

I will always pay attention to what a person is saying or trying to say. I’m smart enough to gauge it and if I have a question, I’ll ask.

So when someone tells me how to speak, and has worked hard to make sure I offended them, I will constantly use words that offend them.

And I’m good with that.

I’d rather deal with animals, thankyouverymuch.

For months now, I think about posting something on Google Plus.

Then I think about the hassle of posting something, even if it’s perfectly innocent, of someone coming along and making a scene.

Then I remember friends arguing on a post, whether mine or someone else’s.

Then I remember I don’t give a fuck.

Then I think I do.

Then I’m pissed and remember that I really do care about MY image online.

Yeah, I’m one of “those people” who does care about what shows up. My feeling is, if you don’t want something known, then don’t post about it. Even privately. Don’t email or text anything you aren’t willing to have everybody on the planet read.

I’ve been the receipt point of plenty of trolling and hatred online and I’m good with that. It doesn’t bother me as long as it’s because I stood up and said something.

I recently went back on all my social networks and checked out what I had posted in the last few years. Most were fine. There were a few that I deleted because I either changed my viewpoint or I felt the posts didn’t really express what I was trying to say. In other words, they were really stupid posts.

But now, I just don’t want to deal with the people. I’d rather pop in, say hello, and go on about my merry way.

I find that my interest lies in animals. More specifically, pit bulls and their rescue.

Animals are so easy to deal with. Nothing hidden, big hearts, and an endless supply of gratitude and thinking you ARE the best thing that ever walked the face of the earth.

Humans? Meh, not so much. I like humans but only in small doses. Very small doses.

In my next life, I want to come back as my dog.

“Give me back my phone!”

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When I came into work the other day, after I parked my car and was walking up to the lobby, I saw a phone in front of the door. An iPhone that apparently someone had dropped and didn’t know it.

I put my coffee down and picked it up. I looked around, because don’t we all do that? You know, find something and stand there for a few moments, looking for someone to come up and tell you that whatever it is that you just found, is theirs.

No one came running up, so I took the phone with me to my office. I turned on the lights, put my coffee down and woke the phone up. I figured maybe I could find their name and phone number somewhere, but the phone was locked. I put it down and figured at some point, the owner would call.

Sure enough, about an hour later, the phone rang. I quickly answered it.

“Hello?” I said.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY PHONE? GIVE IT BACK TO ME!”

“What? Wait! I just found it…”

“GIVE IT BACK TO ME! WHERE ARE YOU?”

OK, I was already done with this bitch yelling at me.

“Look lady, I just found your phone on the ground and picked it up so no one would steal it…”

“Uh huh, sure, right…”

The sarcasm is strong with this one. Too bad, she’s met her match.

“You know what? I really don’t like your tone or accusations. I FOUND your phone. It’s locked, so I couldn’t find out who to call to tell you. I was waiting for you to call so I could give it to you.”

“Oh really? Is that right? Well bring it to me. Now.”

Oh no she did NOT!

“Where are you?” I asked. She gave me the address, which was where I was. She was downstairs in the lobby.

“No,” I said. “I changed my mind. I think I’ll keep it since you’re convinced I stole it AND you’re barking orders at me. Not once did you even thank me and if I had stolen it, do you really think I’d answer it?”

Silence.

The stupid is also strong with this one.

“How much do you want for it?” she asked.

“Oh, you’ve really pissed me off now! I don’t want anything for it. I didn’t steal it. I found it and was going to return it to you, but now I’m not. I’m going to do one of two things.  I’ll either drop it onto the asphalt 2 stories down from a balcony or I’m going to take it to Apple and let them deal with your dumb ass. So either wait outside in the parking lot and watch, or go to an Apple store and see if it’s been turned in. Good luck in knowing which store I’m going to,” I said and hung-up and turned the phone off and tucked it in my pocket.

I then went downstairs and watched a woman stand in the middle of the parking lot, looking up at all the offices, spinning around and quite furious.

I dropped the phone…..off at Apple after work.

Bitch needs to learn some manners.

 

Just…unplug.

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I have to remind myself to do this every day. I don’t have the option when I’m at work and that’s fine. I’m paid to handle shit and get things done.  I don’t want the option at work but I still force myself daily to get up, put my phone down, take my headset off, walk out of my office, walk down the stairs, and out the lobby doors. I go outside and walk. Around the buildings I go. Down the street. I look at the trees, the cars, the grass, the sky, and everything around me.

I do this until I start to exhale and relax. When I feel a calmness accompanied by a sense of peace arrive, I keep going. I clear my mind and just…look. I see how beautiful things are again. I am reminded that everything is OK.

When I’ve managed a large staff in the past, I made all of them do this once a day. If I saw an employee looking a bit stressed and frantic, I’d walk over, take them by the hand, and lead them to the front door. I’d say “Take a walk and I’ll see you in a few” and off they’d go. When they’d come back, they were fine.

You need to walk away to teach yourself that you can. To learn that life goes better when you are just a tad detached from it yet still observing it and controlling it, just like a game of chess. You have to see all the pieces to know what the hell is going on. Hard to control it if you can’t even see where your Queen is.

You have the option to walk away from anything you want. Unless someone has a gun to your head, you’re doing exactly what you want to do.

Sometimes, it’s best to just let things be. The world will continue to turn and life will do what it wants while you take a break from it. It will still be there when you get back.

What? I’m wrong? Don’t I know it!

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“To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong.” Joseph C. Pearce

I recently had a discussion with another writer. Bless his heart, he was concerned about using language in a piece he was writing, based in the 1930’s.

It was quite sweet how he was concerned about offending someone with having the characters use words that are now considered offensive.

My 2 cents to him was “Write what you want. People who look to be offended will always find something.”

That’s a true enough statement and I’ve been there and done that. God if you think I’m self-righteous now, you should have known me when I was much younger. Everything, to me, was a battle. I was right and you were wrong, so I get it with people who are still that way.

For me, it came from a point of insecurity. Maybe that’s just how it is when you’re younger; you’re still figuring shit out, trying to decide what to do, where to go, and find one’s own path.

Now that I’m older, there is a calmness and lack of outrage or concern. It’s not that I don’t continue to be a warrior; it’s that it has to be worth my while.

This world will turn, with or without me, but I need to know that when I depart, I made a difference. That I left something behind, which is the main reason why I took up writing a few years ago. I have a story I want to tell. I thought it would be something that I could slam out in a few months, but that’s not the case.

It’s up close and personal and goes to the heart of who I am and my motivation. It caresses over failures, betrayals, and disappointments. It’s a cold and honest look at myself, but that was not how it started out.

I meant for it to entertain and amuse. I wanted it to hit a nerve with people and speak for those that cannot.

But instead it’s become something else. Two years later and I’m still trying to figure out what I’m saying. It’s very possible that it needs to be more than one story. I don’t know.

It has become me acknowledging the few lives that I touched and the difference I made. It’s about me seeing how the hard times (that still continue) I used to make me a better person.

I see where I’ve been wrong and always have made the same mistakes again.

Now I also see where I was right and for some reason, that’s been a tougher pill to swallow. We’re so quick to criticize ourselves and not quick enough to pat ourselves on the back.

All of those that I walked away from, suddenly felt bad on how they treated me. They wanted to reconcile and yet didn’t care enough to do anything about it when I was there.

Ask me if I care. All I know is this – I learned from it and I’ll never thank them for it.

I’ll thank myself for being smart enough to leave and take something from it.

I am just as aware of when I’m wrong as I am when I’m right.

I may be the only one that knows it, but that’s OK. Original thought, ideas, and actions will never get the approval from the majority.

And I’m good with that.

 

Love my haters.

 

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This made me almost spit my coffee out when I saw it in my stream. I had just received a hate filled rant on my blog by one of my haters/dipshit/moronic stalkers. I use the term stalker liberally because they aren’t really stalking me in real life. They are just obsessed with what I post and tweet.

It happens when you bring your vagina to social networks. It’s par for the course. I’ve cautioned a few female friends about blogging because I know they wouldn’t be able to handle it well if they got trolled. They don’t even know what the word means.

Anyone is going to get slammed if you communicate. The larger your audience grows, the more that will happen.

At first, it bothered me but I know the last thing I should do is retreat after being attacked. I don’t roll over for anyone.

If communicating gets you into trouble, then communicate more.

If someone doesn’t like who you are, be MORE you. Push yourself out there further. Really piss them off. I have faith in you that you can do it.

I may not like what you’re saying, but why should you care? You don’t need mine, or anyone else’s, approval, right? RIGHT?

I was at a dinner party one night, many years ago. The guy next to me was going on and on and ON about not knowing who he was or where he was. He was a self-absorbed little bitch and I grew tired of his yammering and self-pity, so I leaned over and smacked him hard on his arm.

“Ouch! Why the hell did you do that?!”

I leaned back. “Did you feel that?” I asked. (Yes, I also smirked)

“YES!”

“That’s because you’re right here and you’re the person who felt it. That’s who  you are and where you are. Now, pass me the potatoes.”

He shut-up. Thank God.

You’re you. Ain’t nobody else like you. Or me.

Go rock the planet and I’ll work on getting more hate mail. It verifies I’m on the right path.