anytime i use the term "fixer" when describing someone i generally have the image of mr. wolf in pulp fiction. a tarantino staple of the film. a man who gets called in to fix other people's problem. in the case of pulp fiction, he is called in to fix vincent's brain splattering fuckup in the backseat of a car. slowly, calmly, mr. wolf appears and directs, orders, fixes the situation.
now, this may seem like a real hipster reference for me, and we all know i'm nowhere near being labeled as a hipster, but it's just the example that's on my mind. and just so i clear something up from the get go here, i'm not a catagorizing sort. i hate to be put in a box and doubt anyone else likes a label attached to them either. it's just that there's a pattern. a real pattern for me and my relationships with "fixers".
i was at a drinks/dinner function with folks from work the other night. a lot of fun. there's one colleague in particular who i find myself most comfortable and most engaged. it's a man, no real surprise there, and i appreciate and love having men as friends. always have and now is no different. we were talking on a deeper level than just "shop talk" and in the course of our conversation it hit me. i'm attracted to people who are fixers!
when i say attracted, don't misinterpret. i'm not attracted to him in a romantic sense. he's attractive, yes. he's bright, funny, kind, easy conversation,etc. but just as friends. with that disclaimer out of the way....he makes me think outside the box. really interesting guy. so here we are talking and comparing life experiences and the way we look at things in general. we have similar philosophies and ideals. we have similar approaches to problem solving and then it hit me. he's a fixer. justin is a fixer. i'm in essence deep down a fixer too.
in usual iris style, i started dissecting my past and present only to find that i've always been drawn to fixers. certainly this love i have with ownsastud is rooted in that quality to come in and overhaul. to start over. start fresh. fix the broken parts. this had me thinking: am i attracted to "fixers" because i am one myself? is it just that birds of a feather flock together or is it something deeper?
so this all started friday evening and here i was, sunday morning, still wrestling with this fixer realization. and when i say wrestling, i mean really losing sleep over the whole fucking lot. i wasn't feeling like myself. a pissy version of myself. so justin comes over, we go out to have breakfast and it happened again. that collision of conversation that we so often share and it hit me. right there in the middle of eggs at the suburban village inn on a sunday morning. i am desperate to be fixed. i want my flaws, my problems, my life, my shortcomings to be fixed by someone, anyone, anything. that's what i've always wanted. to be fixed. to have a fatal flaw corrected. to just be someone else. and i've been looking for it in other people for as long as i can remember. wow. pick me up off the fucking floor with this epiphany!
no wonder i haven't been able to give up using food to cope. it's my fixer. it's my fixative. it reinforces just how much i don't accept the core of who i am. with all the fat layers over it, nobody can see what i see. nobody can get to what i can get to. nope. nobody can get deep down into me to see the ugliness. where the hell did this fear of self come from? when did it start and how do i get it to stop? when will i stop trying to fix what is not broken?
those are all questions i can't answer right now. perhaps i never will answer them and frankly, i don't know that they need an answer. just acceptance. i'm not broken and i don't need anyone or anything to fix me and i know that. my logical self knows this as fact but emotionally, deep down, i still see myself as broken.
instead of seeking those that fix, i'm going to take some time to myself. i'm purging my brain, once again, of the negative feelings and the way i see myself. instead i'm trying on a different pair of glasses and looking hard, really really hard, for what other see in me. if you see me walking around squinting and complaining that everything looks blurry, you'll know that i'm still working hard at trying to find myself. just hope it doesn't turn into a search for waldo. i don't look good in stripes.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
what i miss about 100lbs.
there's a saying that goes something like this...that the past is always sweeter in your memory than it was in reality. i have to say, i think that's a general truth. past lovers who you have lost but didn't want to lose always seem more amazing in your memory than in the reality of that moment. if it's a happy "past" experience, we tend to dwell on the positive. same thing can be said for a negative memory. a trauma. a time we would like to forget yet it haunts us with it's reckless negativity. things are never what we imagine. good or bad. we don't have accurate raw memories. it just doesn't happen.
i've noticed lately that many of my stories of the past begin with "but you have to understand, i was skinny back then". or "back in the day" before telling a sexually explicit tale of indiscretion. as if being skinny makes it justifiable or more acceptable that i won a wet t-shirt contest that helped pay my rent in college. yes, true story. somehow though, i feel like i have to set up the story so people understand that i wasn't in a wet t-shirt contest while weighing 222lbs.
now, if you didn't pick up on that number then you need to look again. yes, i'm admitting my weight. here, on the world wide whack, for everyone to see. the enormity of my weight current day is around 222lbs. and i own it. i'm not afraid of the number. instead i'm still astounded by it. this number i have in my head and the number i see on the scale are so largely out of proportion to each other that it seems insurmountable sometimes. it's easier to think in past terms of a skinny version of myself. one that i remember but that i question in my minds' depiction. was it really all "that"?
i began wondering, what did it feel like to be 125? how did it feel to live in that skin compared to this one? granted, it's 100lbs. different but what did that feel like deep down as well as on the surface? what do i miss about that triple digit difference?
what i miss about 100lbs. less of iris!
- small bras!!! or at least considerably smaller. i had a breast reduction and at 125lbs.with the new rack complete, i was a nice round firm 34C. i now ring in at a 40G. i miss those more manageable tits. they were nice.
- a waist line. oh, how i miss that part of my figure. not that i was ever one to have a total six pack abtastic crunchorific mid section but fuck, i always had a small waist and a fairly flat stomach.
- seeing my toes. i could easily look down and see my toes. i miss being able to do that.
- trimming. yes, i said trimming. and no, i don't mean those toenails i could easily see. i'm talking about the female trimming. i could easily shave my legs and see exactly what needed to be trimmed in other regions. now it's just hit or miss. my girlscaping was meticulous. now it looks more like a drunken edward scissorhands got a hold of my nether region!
- energy. i had so much more energy. the stairs were no problem, early mornings were easy. things just moved more smoothly and easily with the additional energy...although i don't think being in my 20's hurt either.
-clothes. i looked forward to buying cute outfits. it was nice to wear something with 8 in it that didn't include a 1 or an X in front of it.
- positive frame of mind. exercise was a daily occurrence, not just something i would try a couple times a month and end up breathless and feeling desperate. nope. i could run 5 miles a day and i did and i liked it. so good for my head.
- thongs. this one might come as a surprise. some women loath butt floss but i always liked it. perhaps it just made me feel sexy but i loved the feel of not really having on underwear but still being comfortable that if i were pulled from a car with the jaws of life that my mother would be able to hold her head high at the country club.
what surprises me about this list, and i'm sure there are plenty of other things i miss but right now can't think of them, is nowhere in these statements is there any missing "happiness". being thin didn't make me happy. shit, i could have been my optimal weight, perfect bmi, looked like fuckin brooke burke and i still wouldn't have been happy in my life. my life wasn't happy. it was just thin.
the things i don't miss about being 125lbs. was the constant tracking of food, to the point of obsession. i don't miss the feeling of guilt every time i took an extra bite here or there. i don't miss the feeling of desperation to find happiness and true acceptance. i don't miss the feeling of an empty life.
so although the 100 extra pounds weighs heavily on me, both physically and emotionally, it is just 100lbs. it is not the end of the world. it is not the end of my life. it is not the end of happiness. it's the end of an old sorry story and the beginning of my new life. my new happiness. now is the time to start focusing on losing the weight. not all of it. maybe just 5lbs. to start. maybe 10 and if that feels good maybe 20. i don't have to run 5 miles a day. maybe just walk 5 minutes. maybe, just maybe, slow and steady will win this race.
whatever happens i'm happy saying that i am 222lbs., every damn ounce of it, and no matter what i weigh, life isn't waiting to begin. i've taken it by the balls and am riding the hell out of it. all 222lbs. of it. and fyi...i could still win the hell out of a wet t-shirt contest. the tits are still pretty fucking spectacular!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
who's on first?
it's a shame my kids don't understand abbot and costello. they also don't understand when i come in the front door and yell "loooooocy, i'm hooooooome!" suppose it would help if i exposed them to such comic gems but i do feel some satisfaction knowing that they are well versed in "what's up doc" and "acme" gadgets.
back to "who's on first".... who IS on first? more so, who IS out there looking at this blog. it got me thinking, and questioning my ego and so non-egocentric self. who reads this dribble?
so if you're out there and you take the time to come by here and check out my dribble, let me know. post a comment and say "here". i'm on first! i realize it may take some of the anonymity away, as well as the mystery, but honestly it's driving me batty thinking of who could possibly be reading this shit. suppose that's the price i pay for putting out for anyone to see but hey, we all know i like to live on the edge. won't you join me :)
home
I’m addicted to a little something called Pinterest. A website committed to my addiction to surfing and turfing the interwebs for things that I covet. You know. Decorating ideas, shoe addictions, words of wisdom, personal style. Time and time again there are “sayings” about home…it’s the heart, it’s where your mom is, it’s where love resides, it’s where we grow, etc. etc. etc.
Lately that idea of “home” has been rooting around in my brain and in my heart. I have a dear friend who is torn because she doesn’t have a house to call her own, with walls to paint and rooms to decorate. She struggles with the idea of being temporary and I feel for her. I really do understand, after living in an apartment for a year, just how hard it can be to raise a family, put down roots, when you feel you have no place to call your own. A home is an important part of who we are as families but also as individuals. We need to feel that we have a “home”, a safe place where we can kick off our shoes and just *be.
As I struggle and overcome the need to make my house a home, I find that it has nothing to do with how shiny my floors get. It has nothing to do with how I manicure my lawn. Granted, I doubt that I would feel as secure if my situation were still temporary in relation to my housing. I’m fortunate and grateful beyond recognition for this piece of homestead with my name on it. But what does define a home? Is it where you live, is it who you live with or is it about *how you live your life?
I’ve recently been doing a lot of reconnecting with people that generate a great deal of positive energy. I know, I know. Bust out the birks and the incense but I believe fully in the power of energy. Surrounding myself with negative people and places has done nothing good for me. Yet when I choose to live in a positive frame of mind, with other like minded folks, my life becomes full of good things. These friends of mine, both old and new, have an amazing way of looking at life. We all struggle to define who we are while staying open to the possibilities that wait for us. Some of them are deeply spiritual, there are a few Jesus freaks in the bunch, a few Buddhist, some folks that just feel the energy and move with it. But the running vein that connects us is a feeling of acceptance…and acceptance of each other while we try to accept ourselves. We are all at difference points in the process. Some of us just beginning which is where I feel I fit.
But here’s the amazing thing. When I surround myself with these folks, with these soul sisters and brothers of mine, with this new found yet old family, they accept me for me and even more importantly, I begin to accept myself. It’s cleansing, it’s powerful, it’s liberating and fulfilling. I feel like I’m home. I’m home with my tribe. I’m home without having walls and a roof. I’m out there, in the open air of the evening and I’m home.
I’m especially reminded of my real home today when I feel the pressure to be another PTA mom. When I feel looked down upon because I chose to leave a marriage that was a sham in what can only be describe as a cookie cutter community of married parents. When I feel like I don’t fit because I’m just not like the other girls. And yet I’ve never felt more accepted and loved in all my life. I’m not like the other girls…it’s true. And I love it and I’m thankful that other people do too.
This is my home. Right where I am.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
the love nook
as i was laying in bed with justin this morning, i felt an overwhelming sense of peace. i found my peace and my piece of mind in the love nook. you know, the nook?
no. you don't know about it? neither did a good friend i talked to earlier today. she kinda sorta just shrugged and went "what the hell are you talking about now". this isn't necessarily that unusual of a response from said friend (swear i could smack her if i didn't love her so damn much) but still, could i be the only one who acknowledges the love nook?
so here's my definition of the love nook. it's that cozy corner that a lover provides. usually found when you wake up in the morning to roll over and snug for a while. sometimes you can even find it after you've had a passionate night together. some people call it cuddling but i hate to use that term. i only use cuddling with the kids. otherwise it's the post-coitus, could i love you anymore if i tried, i made noises like some wild coyote on animal planet, body touching moment. you know. that place on a man's chest and shoulder, right there between the two when you rest your hand across them, they run their fingers through your hair and voila...a love nook is formed.
what i find intriguing about this little slice of heaven is the feeling of safety. i think some of that stems from hearing another persons heartbeat. it's like joy is just saturating every part of you. and that's when it hits you. you fit. you just fit perfectly in that little nook. if it's the right love nook, that's how it feels.
this morning i was reminded that his is the only nook i ever want to feel.
no. you don't know about it? neither did a good friend i talked to earlier today. she kinda sorta just shrugged and went "what the hell are you talking about now". this isn't necessarily that unusual of a response from said friend (swear i could smack her if i didn't love her so damn much) but still, could i be the only one who acknowledges the love nook?
so here's my definition of the love nook. it's that cozy corner that a lover provides. usually found when you wake up in the morning to roll over and snug for a while. sometimes you can even find it after you've had a passionate night together. some people call it cuddling but i hate to use that term. i only use cuddling with the kids. otherwise it's the post-coitus, could i love you anymore if i tried, i made noises like some wild coyote on animal planet, body touching moment. you know. that place on a man's chest and shoulder, right there between the two when you rest your hand across them, they run their fingers through your hair and voila...a love nook is formed.
what i find intriguing about this little slice of heaven is the feeling of safety. i think some of that stems from hearing another persons heartbeat. it's like joy is just saturating every part of you. and that's when it hits you. you fit. you just fit perfectly in that little nook. if it's the right love nook, that's how it feels.
this morning i was reminded that his is the only nook i ever want to feel.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
in the eye of the beholder
beauty is in the eye of the beholder. i've always liked that saying. when i was in my prepubescent funky phase, the idea of being beautiful to just one person gave me hope. then again my hormones probably resembled courtney love after an 8ball so everything to me was jacked up.
as an adult though, it holds a different connotation for me. i've never thought of myself as someone who is beautiful in the traditional sense. take for instance the archetype of beauty. some say there is a scientific formula for such beauty. a mask of linear proportion that defines true physical beauty. the standard is the marquardt mask. superimposed upon a photograph you can see the symmetry and lines that supposedly define a beautiful face. i've downloaded it before, looked at it, but refuse to layer it as a mask over my photograph. i just won't do it because frankly, i don't believe in it.
i've been thinking about the perceptions of beauty lately because there is a strange phenomena going on in my life....men are finding me attractive. huh? whut? where did this attention come from all of a sudden? it's a little disturbing to me because what i see in the mirror is not what i "want" to see from myself. i'm not saying that i don't find anything about myself attractive. i do. i own some traditional ideas of beauty. plump lips, full round body, penetrating eyes, milky white complexion, yeah. i have some of those. but in general, i don't fit the mold of a woman who gets lots of attention. i'm 100lbs. overweight...and no, folks, that is not an exaggeration. i am truly 100lbs. overweight and it's not healthy. my skin breaks out on a frequent basis for no known reason. fucking puberty at 39 can kiss my ass. i have stretch marks, i have a dimpled ass, my thighs rub together when i walk, my hair isn't exactly shiny, i'm divorced, a mom, the list of things that aren't traditionally thought of as sexy or beautiful by most men.
so why all of a sudden do i have men knocking on the door? now i am in crazy mad love with switch and i think it's pretty safe to say that he feels the same way about me. so it's not like i'm going out and looking for suitors. perhaps i flirt more than i have in the past though. being loved and loving someone gives you an incredible amount of confidence in the real world. love bubbles have a way of doing that to a girl. swoon.
there are two men in particular, one of whom i work with and the other is an ex who makes gestures and innuendo despite the fact that he's married. the ex is tough to handle since he's such a close friend and yet he is going through some major life changes. i think his attraction to me is one of nostalgia. wanting to go back in time and be young and free again. he knows it, i know it, i have to reel him back in every now and then. he hasn't been inappropriate in his actions but instead suggestive flirting. i'm not threatened but still find it odd that he finds me sexually interesting after all these years. those boys and their dicks. i swear. the man at work is someone i've just gotten to know and i have to say, he's as sweet as they get. he's attractive, he's smart and funny, he's an enormous flirt and he's made a few advances that i've put the kybash on quickly. he knows i have a man in my life and am not looking for anyone and honestly, the flirting is harmless. but i still think it's kinda sorta neat that he picked me. personally i think he's just a free spirit, artistic soul who likes to play around. it's harmless but flattering.
so what is beauty? in my eyes it doesn't have an enormous amount to do with how someone looks. there needs to be a certain level of attraction for there to be a sexual interest but it's never been the driving factor in my relationships. and fyi...switch might just look like a skinny guy but the man is pure muscle, no body fat and he's got a rockin ass body! i appreciate it so very much. please and thank you but it is not what i find most attractive about him. it's who he is as a human being. an outstanding, humble, brilliant, hard working, good man.
my definition of beauty is fairly simple. you have to be who you are on the inside for it to show on the outside. when i let go of my preconceived notions of myself, when i forget that i have a round belly and stretch marks and cellulite to boot, when i put those insecurities away and just embrace who i am, fat rolls and all, i feel liberated and it shows. this resurgence of attention is not going unnoticed. it's flattering, it's a boost to the old broad self esteem. it's a reminder that i'm beautiful by just being myself. that seems to be the formula for me.
fuck that mask and give me a heaping helping of good old fashioned heart and soul instead. that's where my beauty lies. glad to know someone else sees it too.
6th grade angst....with add-a-beads to boot!
as an adult though, it holds a different connotation for me. i've never thought of myself as someone who is beautiful in the traditional sense. take for instance the archetype of beauty. some say there is a scientific formula for such beauty. a mask of linear proportion that defines true physical beauty. the standard is the marquardt mask. superimposed upon a photograph you can see the symmetry and lines that supposedly define a beautiful face. i've downloaded it before, looked at it, but refuse to layer it as a mask over my photograph. i just won't do it because frankly, i don't believe in it.
so why all of a sudden do i have men knocking on the door? now i am in crazy mad love with switch and i think it's pretty safe to say that he feels the same way about me. so it's not like i'm going out and looking for suitors. perhaps i flirt more than i have in the past though. being loved and loving someone gives you an incredible amount of confidence in the real world. love bubbles have a way of doing that to a girl. swoon.
there are two men in particular, one of whom i work with and the other is an ex who makes gestures and innuendo despite the fact that he's married. the ex is tough to handle since he's such a close friend and yet he is going through some major life changes. i think his attraction to me is one of nostalgia. wanting to go back in time and be young and free again. he knows it, i know it, i have to reel him back in every now and then. he hasn't been inappropriate in his actions but instead suggestive flirting. i'm not threatened but still find it odd that he finds me sexually interesting after all these years. those boys and their dicks. i swear. the man at work is someone i've just gotten to know and i have to say, he's as sweet as they get. he's attractive, he's smart and funny, he's an enormous flirt and he's made a few advances that i've put the kybash on quickly. he knows i have a man in my life and am not looking for anyone and honestly, the flirting is harmless. but i still think it's kinda sorta neat that he picked me. personally i think he's just a free spirit, artistic soul who likes to play around. it's harmless but flattering.
so what is beauty? in my eyes it doesn't have an enormous amount to do with how someone looks. there needs to be a certain level of attraction for there to be a sexual interest but it's never been the driving factor in my relationships. and fyi...switch might just look like a skinny guy but the man is pure muscle, no body fat and he's got a rockin ass body! i appreciate it so very much. please and thank you but it is not what i find most attractive about him. it's who he is as a human being. an outstanding, humble, brilliant, hard working, good man.
my definition of beauty is fairly simple. you have to be who you are on the inside for it to show on the outside. when i let go of my preconceived notions of myself, when i forget that i have a round belly and stretch marks and cellulite to boot, when i put those insecurities away and just embrace who i am, fat rolls and all, i feel liberated and it shows. this resurgence of attention is not going unnoticed. it's flattering, it's a boost to the old broad self esteem. it's a reminder that i'm beautiful by just being myself. that seems to be the formula for me.
fuck that mask and give me a heaping helping of good old fashioned heart and soul instead. that's where my beauty lies. glad to know someone else sees it too.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Puzzle Pieces
I hate tough questions. No, not the “What’s the capital of Nebraska?” questions…and please, refrain from showing off if you know the answer. I could make a guess and it might be right but frankly, this Florida girl probably doesn’t remember that chapter of geography class.
I’m talking about the questions we took for granted as children. Namely the “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Simple. Easy. Clear. It was one that we all likely answered time and time again and I would venture to guess that I wasn’t the only one who had a different answer nearly every time it was asked. I remember wanting to be an artist, a prima ballerina, an auto mechanic, a musician, a geologist and an architect. Ambitious, scattered, not at all cohesive as far as a vision goes but it came from my gut. It was the truth. They were all simple, honest, truthful answers to a simple, straightforward question about what I wanted to “do” in my life.
Where along the way did it go from being an easy question to one without an answer? Does it have an answer? What if the answer isn’t what you “think” it should be? As an adult it takes on a new meaning. The reason this discussion came up…and by discussion I mean the one I have with myself on a daily basis…was because I posed a question. The question being for advice in my pursuit of a career in graphic design, specifically what do I need to accomplish in my portfolio to gain attention.
I reached out to three people, all whom I trust and respect. One is my aunt who is a very successful artist and art director. The next is a dear friend who is a designer who specializes in web design and works for a local agency. The final is an old/new friend that I will simply call “chedddar”. Old in that I know him from when I was in middle and high school. New because, thanks to social media, we have reconnected. He’s a culmination of artist, business man, mogul, entrepreneur, you name it, he’s got it.
I received feedback from two of the three people and it was incredibly helpful. But “cheddar” is the only one who asked me a question before giving advice. What is it exactly that I want to do? Where do I see myself going in this “industry” of design and production? Um, Yeah, Um, Wow. This should be an easy thing to answer. I want to design and create. That’s a given. But how will I make it work? Where do I fit into the industry that I have wanted for so long? After all, I did go to college for just that…graphic design.
For weeks now I have been pondering, wondering how I would answer these questions. Who is it that I see myself being over the next few years? What does it look like and where does it take me? I’ve thought long and hard, reaching out to friends and family and looking at their vision of themselves. Looking at myself and where I am right now. What tools do I have and how can I make them work for me. What is the bottom line and how do I define it in a clear logical way…and by logical I mean in any way other than the one I’ve just written here. Geesh, somebody shut me the hell up already.
Finally I’ve come to the realization that I don’t know exactly what I want or who I see myself being in the long run, or even tomorrow for that matter. What I am certain of is that I have something to give creatively. It’s always been a struggle for me to define that creativity, generally living in the day to day creative process in some form or medium but never going in one direction. Scattered is an understatement when I think of ways to describe myself.
I think it’s time to pick up these scattered pieces and put them in the puzzle where they belong. I would normally start with the straight edges and corners first to frame things out but I don’t have any of those pieces. Guess I just have to jump right in the middle then!
I’m talking about the questions we took for granted as children. Namely the “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Simple. Easy. Clear. It was one that we all likely answered time and time again and I would venture to guess that I wasn’t the only one who had a different answer nearly every time it was asked. I remember wanting to be an artist, a prima ballerina, an auto mechanic, a musician, a geologist and an architect. Ambitious, scattered, not at all cohesive as far as a vision goes but it came from my gut. It was the truth. They were all simple, honest, truthful answers to a simple, straightforward question about what I wanted to “do” in my life.
Where along the way did it go from being an easy question to one without an answer? Does it have an answer? What if the answer isn’t what you “think” it should be? As an adult it takes on a new meaning. The reason this discussion came up…and by discussion I mean the one I have with myself on a daily basis…was because I posed a question. The question being for advice in my pursuit of a career in graphic design, specifically what do I need to accomplish in my portfolio to gain attention.
I reached out to three people, all whom I trust and respect. One is my aunt who is a very successful artist and art director. The next is a dear friend who is a designer who specializes in web design and works for a local agency. The final is an old/new friend that I will simply call “chedddar”. Old in that I know him from when I was in middle and high school. New because, thanks to social media, we have reconnected. He’s a culmination of artist, business man, mogul, entrepreneur, you name it, he’s got it.
I received feedback from two of the three people and it was incredibly helpful. But “cheddar” is the only one who asked me a question before giving advice. What is it exactly that I want to do? Where do I see myself going in this “industry” of design and production? Um, Yeah, Um, Wow. This should be an easy thing to answer. I want to design and create. That’s a given. But how will I make it work? Where do I fit into the industry that I have wanted for so long? After all, I did go to college for just that…graphic design.
For weeks now I have been pondering, wondering how I would answer these questions. Who is it that I see myself being over the next few years? What does it look like and where does it take me? I’ve thought long and hard, reaching out to friends and family and looking at their vision of themselves. Looking at myself and where I am right now. What tools do I have and how can I make them work for me. What is the bottom line and how do I define it in a clear logical way…and by logical I mean in any way other than the one I’ve just written here. Geesh, somebody shut me the hell up already.
Finally I’ve come to the realization that I don’t know exactly what I want or who I see myself being in the long run, or even tomorrow for that matter. What I am certain of is that I have something to give creatively. It’s always been a struggle for me to define that creativity, generally living in the day to day creative process in some form or medium but never going in one direction. Scattered is an understatement when I think of ways to describe myself.
I think it’s time to pick up these scattered pieces and put them in the puzzle where they belong. I would normally start with the straight edges and corners first to frame things out but I don’t have any of those pieces. Guess I just have to jump right in the middle then!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
party hat time!
that's right. get out your best party hats bitches! i'm deep in the throws of a pity party. it's time to get out the little tiny violins and let everyone play sweet little songs of sorrow for me. yeah, it's just that pathetic. but i'm not blogging to get sympathy or for any kudos, atta-girls or you'll be fine's. i just have to get the self loathing out in some way. poorly written, absolutely. pathetic, given. real, honest, truthful self hatred. let the vomiting of self critical loathing begin.
i hate myself. i hate the way i look, the way i feel, i hate my ability to eat mass quantities of shit (it's a gift), i hate that after i eat i still make myself vomit sometimes. i hate my lack of organization. i have no decision making skills, i'm irresponsible with time and money, i'm irresponsible with my body (in that i care nothing for it), i hate that my daughter got up in front of her entire 4th grade class today and didn't get more accolades for her hard work. why? because it's a direct reflection of my unwillingness to spend additional time with her studying, doing the working hard. i'm not a hard worker. i'm lazy. i'm a lazy, fucking, lazy messy, fat ass. that's it. i'm a loser and i have no idea what direction i'm taking in my life. i have a part time job as a shop girl, i dropped out of college too soon, i had a career in finance (of all things), i failed at marriage, i fail at parenting from time to time. i define the epitome of a midlife crisis. ack! i'm coming unhinged with the negative thoughts..
i'm a bad mom. i don't follow through on things. i let people down. i let myself down. i let my kids down. i don't take them outside enough. the house is always in a state of disarray. i don't do laundry, i forget to take out the garbage, i ignore my kids and when i don't ignore them, i yell at them too much. i get annoyed by little things, i forget to take my meds and become a delusional mess (yep, forgot them yesterday), i'm a dumbass, i rarely read anymore, i spend too much time on facebook, i eat too much ice cream, i can't stop myself from eating. no self control, no self confidence. i am nothing and i feel everything. it's reaching critical mass of alienation and hatred over here and i can't find one iota of reason. there are days when i want to stay in bed all day and all night and never wake up. really. i know i'm not alone in self loathing. i also know this is harsh and poorly written and totally illogical. i am also acutely aware that this is not the reality. i am trying hard to believe that i am worthy of my life but there are days when nothing feels right or good or real or fair or enough.
but what i can't stand about the self loathing part of me is that it is always there. a reminder that i'm not enough, i don't have enough within me and that i will never be enough. for me, i don't feel that i will ever be whole or positive about myself. i feel like the negatives outweigh the positives. time and time again i'm told about the positive impact i have in other people's lives. and trust me on this one, that is not bragging. i hate it. i hate it when people tell me that something i've said or done or a way in which i have acted has brightened their day or made them feel special. why? because i'm a self centered boob. it makes me uncomfortable and i feel an incredible sense of masquerading as someone or something that i will never be. or that i was never meant to be.
example: i was sick a few weeks ago. really sick to my stomach. without so much as a glance or a word in his direction, justin got up and made coffee, a complete breakfast and tended to me as i fell in and out of sleep. he even jumped in the car and got me powerade which he was just sure would make me feel better. i doubted it but he was right, definitely helped. i thanked him over and over again. he simply stated that it was the least he could do since i do so much for him. i felt like my skin was crawling. granted, i do stick my neck out for him here and there. i love him in a way i didn't know was possible but it is never something for which i want accolades. here was this incredible man taking care of me. he didn't have to do that. more importantly, i didn't deserve it. i truly didn't believe that i deserved it and still question that feeling of being uncomfortable with the care.
probably the biggest mystery for me is how i got to this point. where in my life experiences did i set in motion the cycle of self hatred. i hate every part of myself sometimes and can't find one damn thing to like about me (see above). but where is it so deeply rooted that no matter how much i open up my life to good things, no matter what strides i make or turns i take in the road, it all comes back to me hating me.
perhaps it's the expectation i have of myself. if i continue to fail or feel like a failure or label myself as a failure, no one will expect anything more than a failure. maybe it goes back to childhood and never feeling like i fit the mold, which i obviously still don't. or maybe it's just that there is safety in the self hatred. i can't remember a time when i didn't feel just a twinge of it. even during my very highest highs, i feel a little lost. i feel as though someone else should be reeling in the joy. that i deserve to be what i have turned into physically. that i deserve to be unattractive, to have layers of fat over muscle, the have more flesh than i need, to be sloth like and unmotivated. there is safety there. i'm untouchable, unlovable, unattractive and unworthy.
only problem is that it doesn't work that way. i am loved, i am touched, i am surprisingly still found attractive by a slim margin of males. but i can't figure out how to be worthy. when you aren't worthy to yourself, how are you worthy of others. how and when and where does the cycle break!
fuck, it really is a bad day. let the party continue!
i hate myself. i hate the way i look, the way i feel, i hate my ability to eat mass quantities of shit (it's a gift), i hate that after i eat i still make myself vomit sometimes. i hate my lack of organization. i have no decision making skills, i'm irresponsible with time and money, i'm irresponsible with my body (in that i care nothing for it), i hate that my daughter got up in front of her entire 4th grade class today and didn't get more accolades for her hard work. why? because it's a direct reflection of my unwillingness to spend additional time with her studying, doing the working hard. i'm not a hard worker. i'm lazy. i'm a lazy, fucking, lazy messy, fat ass. that's it. i'm a loser and i have no idea what direction i'm taking in my life. i have a part time job as a shop girl, i dropped out of college too soon, i had a career in finance (of all things), i failed at marriage, i fail at parenting from time to time. i define the epitome of a midlife crisis. ack! i'm coming unhinged with the negative thoughts..
i'm a bad mom. i don't follow through on things. i let people down. i let myself down. i let my kids down. i don't take them outside enough. the house is always in a state of disarray. i don't do laundry, i forget to take out the garbage, i ignore my kids and when i don't ignore them, i yell at them too much. i get annoyed by little things, i forget to take my meds and become a delusional mess (yep, forgot them yesterday), i'm a dumbass, i rarely read anymore, i spend too much time on facebook, i eat too much ice cream, i can't stop myself from eating. no self control, no self confidence. i am nothing and i feel everything. it's reaching critical mass of alienation and hatred over here and i can't find one iota of reason. there are days when i want to stay in bed all day and all night and never wake up. really. i know i'm not alone in self loathing. i also know this is harsh and poorly written and totally illogical. i am also acutely aware that this is not the reality. i am trying hard to believe that i am worthy of my life but there are days when nothing feels right or good or real or fair or enough.
but what i can't stand about the self loathing part of me is that it is always there. a reminder that i'm not enough, i don't have enough within me and that i will never be enough. for me, i don't feel that i will ever be whole or positive about myself. i feel like the negatives outweigh the positives. time and time again i'm told about the positive impact i have in other people's lives. and trust me on this one, that is not bragging. i hate it. i hate it when people tell me that something i've said or done or a way in which i have acted has brightened their day or made them feel special. why? because i'm a self centered boob. it makes me uncomfortable and i feel an incredible sense of masquerading as someone or something that i will never be. or that i was never meant to be.
example: i was sick a few weeks ago. really sick to my stomach. without so much as a glance or a word in his direction, justin got up and made coffee, a complete breakfast and tended to me as i fell in and out of sleep. he even jumped in the car and got me powerade which he was just sure would make me feel better. i doubted it but he was right, definitely helped. i thanked him over and over again. he simply stated that it was the least he could do since i do so much for him. i felt like my skin was crawling. granted, i do stick my neck out for him here and there. i love him in a way i didn't know was possible but it is never something for which i want accolades. here was this incredible man taking care of me. he didn't have to do that. more importantly, i didn't deserve it. i truly didn't believe that i deserved it and still question that feeling of being uncomfortable with the care.
probably the biggest mystery for me is how i got to this point. where in my life experiences did i set in motion the cycle of self hatred. i hate every part of myself sometimes and can't find one damn thing to like about me (see above). but where is it so deeply rooted that no matter how much i open up my life to good things, no matter what strides i make or turns i take in the road, it all comes back to me hating me.
perhaps it's the expectation i have of myself. if i continue to fail or feel like a failure or label myself as a failure, no one will expect anything more than a failure. maybe it goes back to childhood and never feeling like i fit the mold, which i obviously still don't. or maybe it's just that there is safety in the self hatred. i can't remember a time when i didn't feel just a twinge of it. even during my very highest highs, i feel a little lost. i feel as though someone else should be reeling in the joy. that i deserve to be what i have turned into physically. that i deserve to be unattractive, to have layers of fat over muscle, the have more flesh than i need, to be sloth like and unmotivated. there is safety there. i'm untouchable, unlovable, unattractive and unworthy.
only problem is that it doesn't work that way. i am loved, i am touched, i am surprisingly still found attractive by a slim margin of males. but i can't figure out how to be worthy. when you aren't worthy to yourself, how are you worthy of others. how and when and where does the cycle break!
fuck, it really is a bad day. let the party continue!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
the "g" word
it's a slippery slope and a total rule breaker but i'm gonna blog about it anyway. since when did i start following rules anyway? hello?
so i'm gonna talk about it. god. religion. higher power. the big jc. allah. buddha. you can believe that william shatner is in charge if you like. it doesn't matter to me what you want to call it. we all know what i'm talking about. it's the belief in something bigger than what we know as fact. it's a faith in knowing that there's a "reason" or a "purpose" to what is happening or not happening in our lives.
and just so we're clear here...i'm not sure what i call it. it's not the big jc for me necessarily, although i have been baptized in the presbyterian church and do attend with the kids. judaism has appealed to me since i was very young. probably has something to do with the affluent neighborhood kids i grew up around all going to temple. but there's definitely a sensibility and spirituality about their believe system that appeals to me. when i hit my early teens i wanted to read everything i could get my hands on about buddhism and hinduism. but there is one thing that i have never believed fully and that is the option of no higher power. athiesm has never really been an option for me. i've always felt there was some force out there. a karma if you wish. again. not sure what to call it but i feel it so in that i believe. as far as all the other hypocritical bullshit that is constantly pushed down my throat as true "religion", not so much. .
i'm not saying that there is a traditional sense of the big "g" sitting over us in judgment, watching our every move and filling our lives with good things if we are worthy enough. that bullshit kills me! i see suffering that can't be explained. i see gifts bestowed on folks who abuse them. it is illogical to think that if i obey the laws of a god that i will be the recipient of good things. don't get me wrong. one of the things that i believe without a doubt is the golden rule. respect, treat others well. again. comes back to a karmic reaction.
the reason i wanted to write about my understanding or at least my faith in a bigger plan outside of myself, is that lately i've been giving it a lot of thought. i didn't come into this part of my life with a plan. in fact, i've essentially been flying by the seat of my pants for the last two years. no real plan. i just knew that i needed to make a change and take my life back, perhaps for the first time. so here i am. and the amazing thing, the thing that literally takes my breath away and makes me feel dizzy is the fact that my life is so full of good. really fucking good.
i have everything right here. in my life. in my sight. it's all falling into place and i had very little to do with the actual placement. yes, i made the decision to move on and take back my life but the way i have taken it back was not alone. it's been the kindness of a stranger, the support of a friendly word, the glance of a lover saying "you're going to be fine". it hits me like a hard punch sometimes. i can be sitting with the kids and suddenly, boom, out of nowhere i feel overwhelmed with the feeling that things are just the way they need to be. good or bad, they are right. it's all just right.
obviously i don't always feel like i deserve it and the self doubt sinks in but it's becoming less and less. i'm learning how to open myself to the success, to the feeling of being in the right place at the right time. to accepting these "blessings" from my belief in a higher power, whatever that might be. personally, for me, i think my higher power is all around me in the people and places that are a part of my life. i find that strength and that comfort in knowing that there is a purpose for me, even if i don't know what it is right now. there is a path for me that i help pave but which i can't take full credit. no one does it alone.
so i'm gonna talk about it. god. religion. higher power. the big jc. allah. buddha. you can believe that william shatner is in charge if you like. it doesn't matter to me what you want to call it. we all know what i'm talking about. it's the belief in something bigger than what we know as fact. it's a faith in knowing that there's a "reason" or a "purpose" to what is happening or not happening in our lives.
and just so we're clear here...i'm not sure what i call it. it's not the big jc for me necessarily, although i have been baptized in the presbyterian church and do attend with the kids. judaism has appealed to me since i was very young. probably has something to do with the affluent neighborhood kids i grew up around all going to temple. but there's definitely a sensibility and spirituality about their believe system that appeals to me. when i hit my early teens i wanted to read everything i could get my hands on about buddhism and hinduism. but there is one thing that i have never believed fully and that is the option of no higher power. athiesm has never really been an option for me. i've always felt there was some force out there. a karma if you wish. again. not sure what to call it but i feel it so in that i believe. as far as all the other hypocritical bullshit that is constantly pushed down my throat as true "religion", not so much. .
i'm not saying that there is a traditional sense of the big "g" sitting over us in judgment, watching our every move and filling our lives with good things if we are worthy enough. that bullshit kills me! i see suffering that can't be explained. i see gifts bestowed on folks who abuse them. it is illogical to think that if i obey the laws of a god that i will be the recipient of good things. don't get me wrong. one of the things that i believe without a doubt is the golden rule. respect, treat others well. again. comes back to a karmic reaction.
the reason i wanted to write about my understanding or at least my faith in a bigger plan outside of myself, is that lately i've been giving it a lot of thought. i didn't come into this part of my life with a plan. in fact, i've essentially been flying by the seat of my pants for the last two years. no real plan. i just knew that i needed to make a change and take my life back, perhaps for the first time. so here i am. and the amazing thing, the thing that literally takes my breath away and makes me feel dizzy is the fact that my life is so full of good. really fucking good.
i have everything right here. in my life. in my sight. it's all falling into place and i had very little to do with the actual placement. yes, i made the decision to move on and take back my life but the way i have taken it back was not alone. it's been the kindness of a stranger, the support of a friendly word, the glance of a lover saying "you're going to be fine". it hits me like a hard punch sometimes. i can be sitting with the kids and suddenly, boom, out of nowhere i feel overwhelmed with the feeling that things are just the way they need to be. good or bad, they are right. it's all just right.
obviously i don't always feel like i deserve it and the self doubt sinks in but it's becoming less and less. i'm learning how to open myself to the success, to the feeling of being in the right place at the right time. to accepting these "blessings" from my belief in a higher power, whatever that might be. personally, for me, i think my higher power is all around me in the people and places that are a part of my life. i find that strength and that comfort in knowing that there is a purpose for me, even if i don't know what it is right now. there is a path for me that i help pave but which i can't take full credit. no one does it alone.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
behind the green door
I bought a house. A great house with great bones. With incredible history and a great deal of “mojo”. It was once owned by an old friend and her husband. In fact, they started their family of three in this house 10 years ago. I have to say, knowing this fact made the house that much more attractive for some reason. Perhaps it was in knowing that there was a good amount of joy and memories made behind that front door by someone I know. Maybe it was the fact that I knew this couple took impeccable care of the house and knew its history and maintenance. Not sure but whatever the reason, I found it especially appealing. So in I jumped with both feet and I haven’t looked back.
The exterior had an enormous flaw that I couldn’t help but notice. Here was this beautiful circular brick entry way with very detailed, very well cared for, wrought iron railings that wrapped the steps. Absolutely beautiful and such character in the entryway. But instead of leaving well enough alone, the prior owners (not my friends) added full door length shutters, teeny tiny exterior lights, an awning and a bright silver kick plate and hardware. It was too much. Like someone took the Mona Lisa and decided she needed a low v-neck, some dangly earrings and a perm. Less really is more sometimes and in this case, it’s definitely the right way to go.
A few weeks ago, Justin helped to remove the black plastic monstrous shutters. Instant face lift! We have both wanted to rip those fuckers off since day one and over a few bottles of beer, it was finally time. I also love that Justin did it. Made it feel like it was ours in a way and not just mine. Back to the door dilemma. I decided it was time to paint the very dull black, sun bleached door a more distinct color. I should preface this by saying that the house has gone uninhabited and without a caretaker for nearly three years before yours truly. The projects are maintenance, maintenance and more maintenance. I’ve spent more hours than I can count redoing floors, painting cabinetry, having the plumbing replaced, cleaning, and painting 7 out of the 10 areas of the house from top to bottom. You name it, I’ve done it. I still have plenty more to accomplish and have been attacking things a little at a time. The exterior needs a ridiculous amount of work getting the yard back into presentable shape, pressure washing, pruning, shaping, caring. The list continues. But this front door was really bugging the shit out of me.
Honestly, I should have been doing more yard work but I just couldn’t stop obsessing about getting this door painted. So I started thinking about painting the door a nice green color to contrast the dark red brick, white trim and black iron work. That was my first inclination. Yes, it will be green. I knew the shade, not too much blue, not too much yellow, mellow but not Forest green. Just a nice subtle, won’t compete with the house but will feel inviting, kinda green. Yep, Green. But then the strangest thing happened. I began second guessing my gut instinct. Wha? Who am I and what did I do with Iris? I don’t second guess my gut. That’s why it’s my gut and no one else’s. Fuck. This one had me perplexed.
Instead of going with the initial thought, I painstakingly started to assess colors, took photos of the front entry and started photoshopping the fuck out of them. Even downloaded the Benjamin Moore color palette into Photoshop. I tried different colors. I tried painting the coffered inset paneling a contrasting color. I must have virtually repainted that door a hundred times. And still, no answer. This past weekend I got in the car, went to the paint store, picked out 10 different color chips and closed my eyes, not one of them was green. They were all shades of beige. The one my finger landed on was going to be the color. Sure enough I come home with a quart of something called Tea Stained. It’s a good thing they didn’t have me name the color or it would have gotten something along the lines of “camel shit” or perhaps just “blegh”. Yeah, it was just that exciting. But I convinced myself that this lovely shade of newborn baby shit was my destiny. My doors’ destiny was to be Tea Stained and nothing else.
So I primed, I sanded, I filled holes, I removed hardware and I got that door ready for its money shot. On went the first coat, then the second and a final third coat for good measure. I stood back to look at my handy-work and what I saw was something that left me empty. How in the world could I call this “my” door? This wasn’t my door. This belongs to someone else. Someone who knows little about what they want or need or feel. That’s not me. Or is it? Here I was standing at a door that by all accounts is my future. Behind this door is my life. A new life with my kids and Justin and ME. It’s my door. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t swallow this color. I couldn’t do it.
After all this time and this incredible journey of self discovery that I’ve been on over the last 2 years, I still doubt my voice. I still doubt that what I feel and the way that I think is precisely the way it’s supposed to be. I still doubt that I’m okay. That my life is good. That I am deserving of something more than Tea Stained. I realized I doubted my love of green. I realized in that moment, right there in the street, that no matter how many times I had painted that door, no matter if I had picked a glorious red or a pop of purple, it wouldn’t have been my door anymore than it was my door before I lived here. It stood there as a reminder that I didn’t have a voice…but that wasn’t true. I do have a voice and it keep saying green. Fucking green!
Today I went back to the hardware store where they know me by name. Literally. I’ve become the crazy paint lady. Hey, you buy 19 gallons of paint from someone (to repaint the entire house, not just a door) and they remember you for a while. I had them mix up the exact shade of green that I imagined. I could have done a million and one things this morning but instead I stood at my door and painted. First coat, second coat and a third just for safe measure. I removed the hardware and faux finished it in a nice black/bronze color and got rid of all the nasty silver shit.
It finally feels like mine. The entrance to my house. The entrance to my life. A reminder that it’s much more than just a front door. A reminder that the choice is mine and the choice that is mine is the right choice for me. It might not be for anyone else but it is for me. I can’t wait to see what happens behind this green door. Got a feeling it’s gonna be good.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
centrifuge
i'm an artist. plain and simple. i'm eccentric, a little off center. so when i started thinking of how a centrifuge works today, well, let's just say i was caught off guard. i truly ain't no rocket scientist so humor me here folks.
i've been feeling down the past week...or maybe two. i'm not sure anymore. it has started to blur together in a haze of "fuck it, i don't care". multifaceted reasons for the melancholy... my right ankle and foot are giving me a great deal of pain. so much so that i'm considering seeing a podiatrist. p.s. i hate doctors. along with this foot injury i have also been living in a state of disarray. i think all the frenzied work on the house initially wore me the fuck out. i have lacked motivation to make things "homey" and organized for the last two weeks and the house is essentially a mess. dishes in the sink, shoes everywhere, things scattered around with no rhyme or reason. a real fucking mess. no motivation. and how do i deal with anything and everything...binging! i am eating everything in sight. it's sickening. i gave into the temptation of weighing myself while little man was a tae kwon do the other day and thought i may just throw up right there and then. it's stuck with me every since but hasn't stopped me from eating what isn't nailed down. let's face it, even nailed down i would find a dadgum hammer and pull that sucker up!
so what got me thinking about how a centrifuge works is the fact that i just can't seem to separate what is wrong right now from what is right. it's incredibly discouraging since things are simply going very well in most parts of my life. but i know there's something amiss, and something that just right. personally i think they might be one in the same but humor me on this whole centrifuge idea.
when centrifugal force is applied by way of a motorized rotor or in the early years by hand, along with the angle of the test tube in the unit, a separation process is achieve. the heavier sedimentary qualities drop to the bottom of the test tube while the lighter particles come to the surface. what i find so fascinating about the mechanism and this process is that it is not about the propulsion of the rotor but instead seems to rest on the combination of the motor and the perfect angle. if the test tube is angled properly, the particles have less distance to travel to "hit the wall" before being separated. if the angle isn't correct then the particles don't separate, no matter how quickly they travel.
interesting. it seems to be about the angle of the dangle...oh come on. that's just funny! if i'm following the logic here, it makes perfect sense. perhaps i'm looking at things from the wrong angle. instead of standing still and letting things move around me, perhaps it's time to jump in there and find my place. find the position in my life that will rid me of what i don't need and concentrate on what i do need. whatever that might be.
but here's where it gets scary. if i just jump in and don't stand still then i will have to move. i will have to change. i will have to change my habits, my crutches, my addictions and my motivation. i can't eat my way out of this one. i will have to believe in everything i talk about. about loving myself, treating myself respectfully, accepting the things i can't change, accepting erin just as is. just as erin. it scares the fuck out of me. it's letting go, stepping a little to the left, lean in a bit and wait. maybe that will be the right angle. maybe not. then i'll have to move again, give up more control, more expectation, be vulnerable to myself, be aware. what does that look like anyway.
honestly i don't have a fucking clue how that looks but i know how it feels. if feels uncomfortable and frightening and insurmountable. then again i thought changing my life 2 years ago was insurmountable and look at me now. blows me the hell away. it feels like i have to rip off my skin and put on a new one to see how it fits. i hope this new one can get a tan. i'm so over this pale shade of buttercup ivory.
i've been feeling down the past week...or maybe two. i'm not sure anymore. it has started to blur together in a haze of "fuck it, i don't care". multifaceted reasons for the melancholy... my right ankle and foot are giving me a great deal of pain. so much so that i'm considering seeing a podiatrist. p.s. i hate doctors. along with this foot injury i have also been living in a state of disarray. i think all the frenzied work on the house initially wore me the fuck out. i have lacked motivation to make things "homey" and organized for the last two weeks and the house is essentially a mess. dishes in the sink, shoes everywhere, things scattered around with no rhyme or reason. a real fucking mess. no motivation. and how do i deal with anything and everything...binging! i am eating everything in sight. it's sickening. i gave into the temptation of weighing myself while little man was a tae kwon do the other day and thought i may just throw up right there and then. it's stuck with me every since but hasn't stopped me from eating what isn't nailed down. let's face it, even nailed down i would find a dadgum hammer and pull that sucker up!
so what got me thinking about how a centrifuge works is the fact that i just can't seem to separate what is wrong right now from what is right. it's incredibly discouraging since things are simply going very well in most parts of my life. but i know there's something amiss, and something that just right. personally i think they might be one in the same but humor me on this whole centrifuge idea.
when centrifugal force is applied by way of a motorized rotor or in the early years by hand, along with the angle of the test tube in the unit, a separation process is achieve. the heavier sedimentary qualities drop to the bottom of the test tube while the lighter particles come to the surface. what i find so fascinating about the mechanism and this process is that it is not about the propulsion of the rotor but instead seems to rest on the combination of the motor and the perfect angle. if the test tube is angled properly, the particles have less distance to travel to "hit the wall" before being separated. if the angle isn't correct then the particles don't separate, no matter how quickly they travel.
interesting. it seems to be about the angle of the dangle...oh come on. that's just funny! if i'm following the logic here, it makes perfect sense. perhaps i'm looking at things from the wrong angle. instead of standing still and letting things move around me, perhaps it's time to jump in there and find my place. find the position in my life that will rid me of what i don't need and concentrate on what i do need. whatever that might be.
but here's where it gets scary. if i just jump in and don't stand still then i will have to move. i will have to change. i will have to change my habits, my crutches, my addictions and my motivation. i can't eat my way out of this one. i will have to believe in everything i talk about. about loving myself, treating myself respectfully, accepting the things i can't change, accepting erin just as is. just as erin. it scares the fuck out of me. it's letting go, stepping a little to the left, lean in a bit and wait. maybe that will be the right angle. maybe not. then i'll have to move again, give up more control, more expectation, be vulnerable to myself, be aware. what does that look like anyway.
honestly i don't have a fucking clue how that looks but i know how it feels. if feels uncomfortable and frightening and insurmountable. then again i thought changing my life 2 years ago was insurmountable and look at me now. blows me the hell away. it feels like i have to rip off my skin and put on a new one to see how it fits. i hope this new one can get a tan. i'm so over this pale shade of buttercup ivory.
Monday, April 18, 2011
the man, the myth, the tepee
there's a running joke around here that my lovely man will someday live in a tepee in the backyard. we're silly that way. one of us comes up with a ridiculous notion and the other runs with it until boom, it becomes a goofy scenario. it's just a comical musing really and i'm not even sure how it originated. probably has something to do with some language that fucktard wanted to have added to the divorce decree.
when the divorce process was nearing the end, the negotiating became something of a three ring circus. no really. i can't tell you the amount of times that i would read something he proposed and have to pick my head up off the floor. it was excruciating and could be considered highly amusing if it weren't happening to me. example: he wanted me to make all a's if i went back to school and take a full class load so i would "qualify" in his mind of deserving alimony. not just that but he wanted to be able to stop alimony if i didn't make all a's or didn't take the proper classload. yeah. fuck you asshole. that one wasn't gonna fly. neither was the whole non-roommate clause he wanted to add. it stated, in plain terms, i could not have a roommate either of the opposite sex or the same sex and that if i did have a roommate that the alimony would stop. again, i laughed but my attorney laughed even louder. this guy was a serious piece of work and trust me on this one, he's no different than he was a year ago. still trying to be controlling and has taken the art of douchebaggery to an entirely new level!
when i received the documents and picked my jaw up from the floor...and immediately sent back a nicely worked fuck you letter via the attorney...the idea occurred to me. what if my sweet westley came to live with me? someday? when? did he want to? what if? what if he wanted to? how would it work? when? where would he put his things? all those crazy questions of what would my life look like with him in it full time. and don't get me started on his sudden appearance in my kids' lives. sure, he loves them on a biweekly basis but come on, full time kids? he doesn't want to be a father figure, and i never want him to be. they have a father. he's a douche but he is their father. but how would it work? he would have me in his life all the time, not just every thursday night for date night and every other weekend when i'm not playing mom. what would happen? how long before we are on each others last nerves? what if he leaves? the what if's are endless and fruitless.
suppose that's where the whole tepee discussion originated. here we were. two people madly in love with each other and madly in love with the idea of each other. a year ago it was just that, the idea. but things have evolved. yes, we are still madly in love with each other...he still gives me butterflies when he kisses me...but we aren't in love with an idea of each other. it's the real deal. the longer i spend with him, the more deep it seems to grow. i'm not sure about other folks but i can honestly claim that i've never felt this kind of rooting, grounding before. it's natural. organic. some may say the real deal. he is sticking and i like it.
so here we are nearly 2 years into this unlikely love and each day in my new house feels more and more real. it's mine. every square inch is literally mine and i'm loving the freedom that these new roots are carrying. but with that comes more and more discussion about sharing a life together. a real life. not some made up fairytale. an honest to goodness sharing a bathroom, cleaning the kitchen, yardwork kind of life. it frightens me and excites me at the same time. i have admit that the times the house feels the most like home is when he's next to me. sitting on the couch, making coffee, outside with the kids. doesn't matter what we're doing. but if he's with me, it feels more real.
the big difference is that i don't need him here. i'm fine on my own. weird. what. me. okay. on. my. own. damn skppy! i have myself, my own tastes, my own freedom of expressing myself and loving myself. i have the kids and a family who loves me and the friend list is beyond plentiful. i really don't need a man to help me paint a wall or maintain a yard or carry my trash to the street. i don't need someone else to pay my bills and plan my future. i've got it covered. and even though i don't need him, i want him. i want him here. i want him in my life. i want his input and his natural curiosity and insight. i want his opinion of where to hang art and what to have for dinner. i like it. in fact, i love it. i love having him with me. not a "part of me" but with me. that whole two people becoming one thing is a bunch of horse shit in my opinion. we are two people but we share parts of each other that no one else knows or sees or feels. let's face it though. at the end of the day we are two people. trying to figure out how to fit into one house. maybe. someday.
so the tepee discussion will continue. and so will the man. and so will the myth of happily ever after. only time will tell but i'm keeping my backyard options open. after all, a tepee would be a fun addition to the yard...not to mention the feathers, warpaint and loin cloth. me likey.
when the divorce process was nearing the end, the negotiating became something of a three ring circus. no really. i can't tell you the amount of times that i would read something he proposed and have to pick my head up off the floor. it was excruciating and could be considered highly amusing if it weren't happening to me. example: he wanted me to make all a's if i went back to school and take a full class load so i would "qualify" in his mind of deserving alimony. not just that but he wanted to be able to stop alimony if i didn't make all a's or didn't take the proper classload. yeah. fuck you asshole. that one wasn't gonna fly. neither was the whole non-roommate clause he wanted to add. it stated, in plain terms, i could not have a roommate either of the opposite sex or the same sex and that if i did have a roommate that the alimony would stop. again, i laughed but my attorney laughed even louder. this guy was a serious piece of work and trust me on this one, he's no different than he was a year ago. still trying to be controlling and has taken the art of douchebaggery to an entirely new level!
when i received the documents and picked my jaw up from the floor...and immediately sent back a nicely worked fuck you letter via the attorney...the idea occurred to me. what if my sweet westley came to live with me? someday? when? did he want to? what if? what if he wanted to? how would it work? when? where would he put his things? all those crazy questions of what would my life look like with him in it full time. and don't get me started on his sudden appearance in my kids' lives. sure, he loves them on a biweekly basis but come on, full time kids? he doesn't want to be a father figure, and i never want him to be. they have a father. he's a douche but he is their father. but how would it work? he would have me in his life all the time, not just every thursday night for date night and every other weekend when i'm not playing mom. what would happen? how long before we are on each others last nerves? what if he leaves? the what if's are endless and fruitless.
suppose that's where the whole tepee discussion originated. here we were. two people madly in love with each other and madly in love with the idea of each other. a year ago it was just that, the idea. but things have evolved. yes, we are still madly in love with each other...he still gives me butterflies when he kisses me...but we aren't in love with an idea of each other. it's the real deal. the longer i spend with him, the more deep it seems to grow. i'm not sure about other folks but i can honestly claim that i've never felt this kind of rooting, grounding before. it's natural. organic. some may say the real deal. he is sticking and i like it.
so here we are nearly 2 years into this unlikely love and each day in my new house feels more and more real. it's mine. every square inch is literally mine and i'm loving the freedom that these new roots are carrying. but with that comes more and more discussion about sharing a life together. a real life. not some made up fairytale. an honest to goodness sharing a bathroom, cleaning the kitchen, yardwork kind of life. it frightens me and excites me at the same time. i have admit that the times the house feels the most like home is when he's next to me. sitting on the couch, making coffee, outside with the kids. doesn't matter what we're doing. but if he's with me, it feels more real.
the big difference is that i don't need him here. i'm fine on my own. weird. what. me. okay. on. my. own. damn skppy! i have myself, my own tastes, my own freedom of expressing myself and loving myself. i have the kids and a family who loves me and the friend list is beyond plentiful. i really don't need a man to help me paint a wall or maintain a yard or carry my trash to the street. i don't need someone else to pay my bills and plan my future. i've got it covered. and even though i don't need him, i want him. i want him here. i want him in my life. i want his input and his natural curiosity and insight. i want his opinion of where to hang art and what to have for dinner. i like it. in fact, i love it. i love having him with me. not a "part of me" but with me. that whole two people becoming one thing is a bunch of horse shit in my opinion. we are two people but we share parts of each other that no one else knows or sees or feels. let's face it though. at the end of the day we are two people. trying to figure out how to fit into one house. maybe. someday.
so the tepee discussion will continue. and so will the man. and so will the myth of happily ever after. only time will tell but i'm keeping my backyard options open. after all, a tepee would be a fun addition to the yard...not to mention the feathers, warpaint and loin cloth. me likey.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
I wanna....
damn. the inspiration around me is just flowing like mad. it's insane the amount of good people i have in my life. another one of my homeslices posted a short list of things she wants to do. not before she dies. not when she reaches a certain age. nope. just a simple list of things that she wants to do. it inspired me to start thinking of things that i would like to do. now, later, someday, yesterday. my mind started racing around and below is what culminated. it's by no means a complete list. how could it be? i would imagine there are things here that won't interest me tomorrow and i'm sure there are things to be added to the list everyday. but for now, here's a list of things that i wanna do. let me know if you are up for helping me do any of these things. i welcome the company...if you're brave enough, or crazy enough depending on the subject matter :) and thanks to my soul sister for inspiring this list. damn skippy!
things i wanna do....in no particular order
1. vacation in europe via "adult" backpacking (i.e. plenty of hiking and foot traffic minus the hostel accommodations)
2. fill an entire sketch book from beginning to end, no matter how long it takes, no pages torn out, no regrets, no erasing, just my sketches.
3. own and help restore a classic muscle car
4. learn to play the guitar...well (i know some basics but would like to be able to play a few tunes well)
5. go swimming in the carribean - never been, even on a cruise
6. drive a race car on a professional race track
7. foo fighters in concert ~ it would be epic for me!
8. learn to roller skate again. it would have to involve the knee high socks and short shorts though...complete with an abba soundtrack.
9. go surfing ~ never had the nerve to try it
10. jump out of a plane, preferably with a parachute and a bottle of jack daniels handy upon landing
11. ride in a hot air balloon (may need another fifth of jack for this one)
12. have a nude photo taken that is tasteful and flattering thank you very much (on second thought, make it a case of jack)
13. write a book, even if it never gets published. non fiction, inspirational or just plain nutty rants (see this blog)
14. make peace with my addiction/compulsion to food
15. paint a masterpiece...maybe only in my eyes but that's enough
16. make peace with fucktard and forgive him for his wrongs
17. forgive myself for my past
18. love myself more than anyone else could ever love me
19. graffiti something, anything. have never vandalized anything in my life!
20. tp someone's yard. it's true. my badass has never toilet papered a yard. juvenille item on my list but still one i would like to do.
21. have sex in public. not "hey, watch us bone" kinda thing. just somewhere in public without being obvious. perhaps a movie theater, on a ride at disney, a blowjob under a restaurant table. something with the potential of being caught but not incarcerated.
22. speaking of which...i've never been tied up or blindfolded during any sex play. now that i have a partner i trust, those might be things i want to try. just sayin.
23. smoke a big fat joint again. haven't gotten high in years and want to at least one more time in my life. ganja good!
24. one word...ZIPLINE! preferably somewhere exotic.
25. cover my "W" tattoo from my marriage to fucktard. yes, it's been enhanced and changed to signify a different meaning but when the time is right, i want it replaced all together.
26. donate my hair to locks for love. i need 12 inches in order to donate.
27. get married again...maybe ;) yes, i said it. i would marry my sweet westley in a heartbeat. on our own terms and perhaps even without terms. but there's a part of me that would like nothing more than to wear a white dress...a very short tight one mind you...and profess my love to this man in some kind of ceremony. maybe just the two of us, maybe a big keg party. don't know but yes, i can't think of one single day without him in it.
28. run a 5K in its entirety. no walking. just pure running.
29. run a half marathon. puking optional.
30. run a marathon. puking required.
31. while doing item 1. (european vacation), i want to take a bath in beer. there are spots in germany and austria where they have warm beer baths. i want to go to there (said in my best liz lemon voice).
32. speaking of which...oktoberfest in germany. the whole shabang. i want to see it all, do it all, drink it all and just live it up via some wiener schnitzel and uber-brew.
33. set a world record. balancing quarters on my nose, having the most consecutive minutes without using the word fuck (hey, that one would be tough for me), anything. just some world record with my name next to it.
34. karaoke. never done it.
35. make a difference to someone, somewhere, at some time in my life. if i haven't done it yet, i want to do it. if i've already done it, i want to do it some more.
things i wanna do....in no particular order
1. vacation in europe via "adult" backpacking (i.e. plenty of hiking and foot traffic minus the hostel accommodations)
2. fill an entire sketch book from beginning to end, no matter how long it takes, no pages torn out, no regrets, no erasing, just my sketches.
3. own and help restore a classic muscle car
4. learn to play the guitar...well (i know some basics but would like to be able to play a few tunes well)
5. go swimming in the carribean - never been, even on a cruise
6. drive a race car on a professional race track
7. foo fighters in concert ~ it would be epic for me!
8. learn to roller skate again. it would have to involve the knee high socks and short shorts though...complete with an abba soundtrack.
9. go surfing ~ never had the nerve to try it
10. jump out of a plane, preferably with a parachute and a bottle of jack daniels handy upon landing
11. ride in a hot air balloon (may need another fifth of jack for this one)
12. have a nude photo taken that is tasteful and flattering thank you very much (on second thought, make it a case of jack)
13. write a book, even if it never gets published. non fiction, inspirational or just plain nutty rants (see this blog)
14. make peace with my addiction/compulsion to food
15. paint a masterpiece...maybe only in my eyes but that's enough
16. make peace with fucktard and forgive him for his wrongs
17. forgive myself for my past
18. love myself more than anyone else could ever love me
19. graffiti something, anything. have never vandalized anything in my life!
20. tp someone's yard. it's true. my badass has never toilet papered a yard. juvenille item on my list but still one i would like to do.
21. have sex in public. not "hey, watch us bone" kinda thing. just somewhere in public without being obvious. perhaps a movie theater, on a ride at disney, a blowjob under a restaurant table. something with the potential of being caught but not incarcerated.
22. speaking of which...i've never been tied up or blindfolded during any sex play. now that i have a partner i trust, those might be things i want to try. just sayin.
23. smoke a big fat joint again. haven't gotten high in years and want to at least one more time in my life. ganja good!
24. one word...ZIPLINE! preferably somewhere exotic.
25. cover my "W" tattoo from my marriage to fucktard. yes, it's been enhanced and changed to signify a different meaning but when the time is right, i want it replaced all together.
26. donate my hair to locks for love. i need 12 inches in order to donate.
27. get married again...maybe ;) yes, i said it. i would marry my sweet westley in a heartbeat. on our own terms and perhaps even without terms. but there's a part of me that would like nothing more than to wear a white dress...a very short tight one mind you...and profess my love to this man in some kind of ceremony. maybe just the two of us, maybe a big keg party. don't know but yes, i can't think of one single day without him in it.
28. run a 5K in its entirety. no walking. just pure running.
29. run a half marathon. puking optional.
30. run a marathon. puking required.
31. while doing item 1. (european vacation), i want to take a bath in beer. there are spots in germany and austria where they have warm beer baths. i want to go to there (said in my best liz lemon voice).
32. speaking of which...oktoberfest in germany. the whole shabang. i want to see it all, do it all, drink it all and just live it up via some wiener schnitzel and uber-brew.
33. set a world record. balancing quarters on my nose, having the most consecutive minutes without using the word fuck (hey, that one would be tough for me), anything. just some world record with my name next to it.
34. karaoke. never done it.
35. make a difference to someone, somewhere, at some time in my life. if i haven't done it yet, i want to do it. if i've already done it, i want to do it some more.
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