Just take the compliment and be beautiful, damnit.

Here we go. I normally have very little time for blogging or emailing because of this:

He found the Girl Scout Cookies I picked up last night and is demanding that my Carmel Delights shall be breakfast. Look at that angry little face. That's roughly after my 5th "No!" I shall try to do my thing as long as he will let me. My hubs is off of work today, so once he gets up I should be able to get some things done and maybe even some time to myself.
My boyfriend just turned 32 years old. In celebration, he took most of the week off. We visited with his family and friends the first couple days and the rest of the week is a staycation at the homestead :)
At 32 years old, he still has a thick, McDreamy mane of hair going. It's getting the salt and pepper on the sides now, but still looks so damn good. So damn good that it pisses me off sometimes.
He just keeps getting better looking.

You know what sucks? On multiple occasions throughout the day, my boyfriend will tell me that I'm beautiful or sexy or pretty. And you know what I say? I say "Shut up," or some other phrase indicating you're wrong.
And why? Well, I can't be beautiful. I'm 20 lbs overweight, all in the gut and boobs (and if I loose it, it will only come off of my butt and boobs. Not. Fair.) I have a crooked nose, a crooked tooth, love handles, stretch marks, bags under my eyes, no sense of mainstream fashion (I like to "wing it" when it comes to style and class) my feet are huge, my hands are unmanicured, my hair is blah, and my personality...not that great.
There are times when it feels like we, as a society, are moving in a different direction. There are times when it feels like there is room for every person and all their uniqueness. There's that whole thing with the Dove Ad's who are actually capitalizing on the fact that everyone is flawed. By using real woman of all shapes, sizes, and colors, they are appealing to all of those who feel they don't fit the bill of the standard woman.
There was that video going around about that artist who had blindly painted women as they described themselves  and then as a different person described that same woman, then the artist compared. It proved that we all see our selves much worse than everyone else sees us. Actually, that was done by Dove, also. I think.
Every now and then these people emerge to tell us we are all beautiful, blah, blah. And actually, it's not blah blah, I love it, don't get me wrong. However, it can't seem to shut up that voice in our head that whispers all of our insecurities to us.
That little voice that receives validation every time I'm in a checkout aisle and see the following

Trick yourself into going to the gym
Get that shape you want
52 sex moves that will blow his mind
The diet that actually works!!
15 minutes a day to perfect abs
"                         " to a perfect butt
"                          " to perfect skin
Is he lying ?
Is he cheating?
Is he listening?


Then there are the ones that target moms and there is always some celebrity on there that talks about How I managed to get an even better after baby body and be a much better mother than you and have it all. Ok, maybe it doesn't say that verbatim, but you get the idea. And I know exactly how she managed to do it. Personal trainer, Full time Nanny. Perhaps I'm just being bitter. I get that a lot. I'm actually not trying to be, but it just flows out so naturally, like sweet sarcastic brown sugar. Speaking of which. I need some more coffee.
It's no secret that marketing reinforces the problem just to be the solution. Rinse. Repeat. Its subtle insults cling to our insecurities and feed off them like a parasite. I mean seriously.
They don't say you're fat - but they tell you to get into shape
They won't say you're sex life sucks - but here's what you should be doing.
They won't say you're not good enough to keep your man happy - but is he lying? Cheat? Listening? Will he ever marry someone like YOU? The reason they fall back on men is because finding a companion is the great answer to life's biggest question: What's the point? Answer: To find Love (a man. Lesbians, I'm not sure how marketing affects you. Actually, I'd be very interested to find out).
So now, here's where it gets worse. Either Men have been so brainwashed by media (or their mothers have overloved them) making them believe that this is actually what they are entitled to - the perfect woman, OR, they are the type that really don't care about that sort of thing, but OUR insecurities have led us to believe that they DO care so we spend so much time and effort worrying about these things that we don't actually stop and enjoy the relationship. We may put too much pressure on them to prove that we have achieved all of the 'must haves' on America's "Perfect girlfriend checklist" and when they don't, then it's either because
- We have fallen short of the standards of an acceptable female companion
- They aren't worthy of US.
I said it in my last blog, and I'll say it again - ridiculous transferences can take place any time.
If we stopped and thought about it, we could find out how insecurities have caused some ridiculous "I don't really know what we're fighting about" arguments like this....

"You didn't go to Jared! It's because you don't love me. Is it because I'm fat?  It's because I'm fat. I need to go on a diet and go to the Gym. I'm going to lose all this weight, and then I'm going to post pictures of myself all over facebook (not before editing them with a photoshop app) and I'll show you how much better I'm doing without you! I'm going to find someone who appreciates me"
A wonderful cycle of - Get fit, Get a man, oh your man don't appreciate it, ditch your man, be independent, get fit, get a man...

I feel like I could make a really valid and organized point if I actually took the time to organize my thoughts. However, that's not my style. Not enough time. Not enough coffee.

So let's get to the real point. What I really wanted to say.

 

This is what I look like every morning. And nearly every morning, my boyfriend will make it a point to say "You're beautiful" or some form of it. Now, all evidence would suggest he's lying. All media evidence, all my insecurities, my mean little voice, and that picture above that I just posted.

It is sad that we live in world where I can't just take the damn compliment from someone I claim to love and trust. Just be beautiful. Just radiate it and be it.

Right now I can pretend I have had some grand epiphany and from now on life will be better. I will show off my stretched mark belly in a bikini with pride and burn all my push up bras. FALSE.
No doubt that some time this week I will be in front of the mirror, sucking in my gut, covering up my blemishes, and desperately wishing I was prettier.

Maybe I can just start by reminding myself not to tell my boyfriend to shut up every time he tells me the words that every woman claims they want to hear. We should all do as my boyfriend says and "taking the F***ing compliment." Instead, I'll tell the magazines to shut up every time I'm in the supermarket aisle.
Then the cashier will look at me funny.
Then the special people in the straight jackets will come.
Then I'll be in a padded room reading a magazine about  " 8 amazing ways to prove to your doctor you're not crazy..."



 

 

 

 

 

"calling it hate is hating that I don't accept gay people"

As happens so many times on this earth, I came across something completely ignorant (I've been told I overuse that word, however, it could just seem that way because there is such an abundance of it) and I just couldn't keep my fingers shut up about it.
Lately, I have been trying to see both sides to an issue and think about the effectiveness, or lack there of, of my knee jerk reactions. It never does any good insulting a person because that won't make them want to hear or accept anything that I have to say. Insults are a quick go-to for someone lacking control. Similar to a person throwing a punch because they can't handle an uncomfortable social interaction.
Listen to me my high horse. I have an abundance of flaws and ignorances myself. I can be a smug know-it-all when really I'm just a know-something-about-that-and-have-an-opinion kind of person. Let's just say I don't have a soap box, but I borrow one from time to time.
Yesterday I was scrolling along Facebook and saw a post that left me a bit conflicted. I'll post it below:

I'm done being quiet. If you are gay, stop whining and complaining because people don't like your CHOICES. I am a Christian and believe that it is incredibly wrong but like I said that's your choice. If you keep posting gay Crap I will simply delete you from my profile. I don't care if you want to call it hate. In reality, calling it hate, is hating that I don't accept gay people. I just read some Crap about gaytm's (atm's that have had a rainbow gay pride makeover) Seriously, what would happen if we posted scriptures from the Bible or crosses all over atm's. If we are going to accept people for who they are, then stop freaking when u see a kid with a bible in a public school, he just might be the only one praying for that school.

I get annoyed by things. Sometimes I get in one of those bitter moods where I'm just like "Ulgh, I'm so sick of seeing this or that" and really it's an over-reaction. It doesn't mean there is anything wrong with "this or that", it just means that I'm in a pissy mood and I attached all of my anger towards something that I'm sick of seeing or whatever. There isn't a perfect science to people. Ridiculous transferences can take place at any time. We get annoyed. We get angry. We get bruised egos. We act like babies using big words. I've been guilty of it plenty of times.
So I took a moment to register that's what this person must be feeling. I also thought "This person seems to be capable of thought and reasoning, they've made it this far and He claims to be a Christian. If I respect his point of view, why wouldn't he at least hear or accept that mine exists."
Then I thought "Hmmm, maybe I don't want to stir it up. Maybe I should just walk away." However, I later thought about indifference. In certain situations, allowing something to occur is just as damaging as doing it. So I decided to write back.

I began with saying something along the lines of " Sorry you're frustrated. Hopefully you feel better now that you've vented" I then went on to say that "I'm sure you know that not all gays are whiny and complaining in-your-face and flamboyant about their issues, just like not all Christians are gay hating, bully Republicans. However, I'm sure that the gay community wouldn't mind one bit if you posted a bunch of scripture from the bible like this: ..."
And then I went on to post scripture of love, tolerance, not judging others, and some that could even support the gay lifestyle. I didn't do this to "get in his face" or anything. It was because I thought he, claiming to be a Christian, would recognize these parts of the scripture and reconsider his hate.

If I wanted to be a bitch about it I could have attacked him for not doing research that the "GayTMs" are specifically for a celebration at a specific location, it's not like they are everywhere.  I could also  point out that the connection between GayTMs and Prayer in school is..what? What the hell is that? And let's not get started on the "It's a choice" thing.

I left it gentle.

His response was to delete my comment and just keep a string of comments from all of those giving him kudos for speaking up.
My first knee-jerk reaction was to type my comment again and again and flood his page with Gay and Lesbian pride and support memes. However, that's just fighting ignorance with ignorance or intolerance with intolerance. I'm not part of a movement or anything. I'm not committed to a cause. I'm a regular person, consumed in my own shit. However, this experience made me think a little more about the shaping of the LGBT community.
This person had deleted everything I had to say, as is his right. However, what does that say?
For one it says that (to him) whatever I had to say was wrong, or wasn't worth hearing, or I wasn't worth hearing, or I was right and he had no way to refute it so he just pretended it didn't exist. Hell, maybe it was all of the above. His solution was to insult and avoid.
Now, I'm sure the gay community has it's fair share of assholes and douchebags, just like every other group of people out there. However, I'm mostly going to be talking about my perspective on the group as a culture.

As individuals and as a culture, LGBTs have made an existence while emerging from those circumstances. Obviously, I'm not comparing my facebook comment to a person's existence. I mean those were the reactions to them in everyday life just for existing. Just for being. They were treated as my deleted comment. Deletable, ignorable, wrong. It must take so much work and pain and strength to exist in a world with so many people who don't think you should be you. I get some shit from time to time, but it's not like there are people out there protesting about that single white woman dating that single white man. There aren't these ridiculous circumstances and roadblocks preventing me from just doing what I do.
I think it's a beautiful thing to see how the community has grown through all of those everyday obstacles, and around them, and eventually, above them. It seems such a simple and obvious concept, like another underdog type of story, but it's so much more complex then "misfits Vs Cool Kids".  These are individuals who overcame so many things to actually create a culture. The people who come together to make up the LGBT community have their own unique journeys and it forms a sort of living mosaic art piece.
While that is beautiful, it must also be exhausting sometimes.

And all of that to still encounter narrow minded haters Every.Damn.Day.
It bothers me when other people can't see things like I do and in a way that makes me just as bad as them, I suppose. It's the hypocrite calling the hypocrite a hypocrite. I want to be all Zen and pretend I'm way cooler than I am, and "Hey you can have your hate and I'm sitting on the side of Peace and love" and self-righteous blah blah. I would like to be that person and let the haters hate and keep my opinions to myself and not want to force people to see my point of view.

 But fuck them, I'm right.

Have you met Gus?

I've been putting off blogging. Why? Because I feel I have nothing worth saying.
Is that true? Or do I feel that other people feel I have nothing worth saying? Nevertheless, I let fear and insecurities get the best of me.
I emailed Gus and advised him that I can't think of a damn thing to say! Nothing clever or interesting. Not a flipping word. I think I need a writing flush. It's like when pips rust and sit there for a long long time; if you do get the pipe running, a bunch of crap is going to come out before anything good does.
Perhaps that is what this blog is. It's the crap. I'm crapping all over you.
Back to that email. So, I emailed Gus and requested he just give me a bunch of random words and topics to discuss and I'll just keep writing and writing until something good comes out. Wishful thinking, I know.
Let's talk about sheep.

In my email, I also told Gus that I would be sending a gift to him for his birthday.
Ok, before I can talk about sheep, I should probably explain about Gus.
Gus is in his 50s; not an old 50s, but quite a young 50s. He hikes and bikes, he reads and writes (not like a child can "read and write", I mean that he reads a lot and writes stories and blogs, etc), and appreciates a good drink and even better food. Gus is anything but materialistic. I think if he could have his way he would live on a nice chunk of land out in the country, growing his own food and meat as organically as possible, tinkering in an old wood shop, writing on a deck he built, overlooking a river with his hand-made canoe tied to the dock, while sipping a brew and contemplating if he should start making his own beer. Of course, he would live close enough to society to go socialize, people watch, and make conversation with any person having a worthwhile personality or rack.
Gus hates "the man". His political views are quite left, bordering on radical, however he still has too much common sense, decency, and a love of the simple, to ever become radical radical. Unless there was a revolution. I'd like to think Gus and I could handle a revolution. That's for a different blog.
Now that you have a tiny understanding of Gus, I can continue my story.
From my description, you can probably gather that Gus is a Whole Foods kind of guy. He's the guy that shops at the Mom and Pop store and wouldn't be caught dead in a Wal-Mart.
And the eyes roll. I saw it from some of you. You're wondering "Does he wear Birkenstocks and have clothes made out of hemp?" You know what? I don't know enough to say yes or no on that.
Anyway.
I ordered a gift for Gus, and as it has not arrived yet, I can't tell you what it is. I can tell you that I ordered it from Wal-Mart! I think he'll like the gift. I closed my last e-mail to him  with this line

Best of luck to you with everything. Any birthday plans?
I have a gift coming to you. Just a little something. Nothing big. I ordered it from Wal-Mart because I know the shame you will feel by the whole neighborhood seeing a Wal-Mart Box on your doorstep. What will all your hippie friends says then, you SHEEP!! Bwaaahahahaha!

Hugs!

Sometimes I like to tease him when I feel his soap box getting a bit tall. I agree with almost everything he says, but I also cave a bit easier under the pressure of a busy life. I mean, Come on Hippies! We all can't afford to stuff our hemp stockings with organic cheeses AND buy diapers and college textbooks.
Just some playful jabbing. I like to tease him about being one of those pretentious people. It's quite fun to exaggerate his opinions and views and then call him out on it, but in reality I respect it all and I'm a bit envious.
I had taken my 2 1/2 year old son, Eli, over to Gus' place. After about an hour my son says "Wheres da TV?"
 I said "Honey, they don't have a TV"
This didn't make sense to Eli one bit. He looked over and said "No TV at all?"

After we left, I imagined in my head what Gus and his other half must've been thinking. There they were, sitting in their TVless livingroom, filled with books on shelves, rather DVDs stacked upon gaming systems.
Gus would be sitting in a chair peering over a book at his wife and comment "Did you see that Emma's son is already a slave to that (smug tone) Idiot Box?"
"Oh, I know" she would agree from the kitchen.
"You know her parents are republicans, right?"
"Well, obviously." She would say as she brought him a plate of organic fruits, nuts, berries, and cheeses. "Now, let's finish lunch and prepare for the Black Friday shopping at Wal-Mart tomorrow."
Then there would be a brief shocked silence as they both stared at one another, than each threw their heads back laughing.
"Haha, Indeed. Black Friday at Wal-Mart" Gus would laugh, " And then maybe we can go pay our taxes"
Then they would both erupt into uncontrollable laughter.

Gus had an idea that I could start writing about our unique relationship. I think I may do that. Where do I start? Is our unique relationship also a bit to fragile to handle such in depth analysis? I feel like going down this road while change the tone of my blog.
I also don't have time to go into such things. Right now by red headed son is throwing a tantrum because I will not allow him to watch any more TV. He found a mirror and is now practicing his tantrums into the mirror. I think I should be expecting quite the rehearsed protest for nap time.  Awesome.

Fare the well, Kittens. Until we meet again.

Sans Pants From June 2007

Subject My demise.

DateCreated 6/5/2007 3:47:00 PM

PostedDate 6/6/2007 4:12:00 AM

 

Good afternoon my 3 devoted readers.  You know who u are.

My name is Emilee and I am a walking example of Murphy’s Law.  That's right. Everything that could go wrong, is going wrong.  I fear it will continue on this tumultuous path, stopping at nothing short... *(Dramatic pause)*... of my demise.

I'm not going to go into every detail beginning from 2 weeks before the move out here up until this point.  I won't bore you with the little things that have added up such as my car not starting on my first day of work at my new "job."  Or how it's been nearly 2 months since the bid was put in on our house in Michigan and now the supposed buyer is MIA and still hasn't come close to closing...leaving us to continue paying an undisclosed amount on that house as well as this one.   I won't elaborate on the constant headaches that no medicine can subdue - everyday suffocating my brain, or the immobilizing pain that is constantly taking its toll leading me to believe that my sinuses and allergies have banded forces and are hijacking my nasal cavities...also seizing at nothing short of my demise.

Nor will I ramble on about the long lonely drive to and from Wisconsin next week in which I am to drive my vehicle with its questionable mechanics ( it sometimes doesn't start...) and also no cell phone. But I'm sure if I happened to be stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere there will be some nice, hairy, imbread, not psychotic in the least, Billy Bob there to help me out...

Let's not talk about any of those things.  That'll only depress and bring down. 

Instead, we are going to turn our attention towards the positive.

I returned home from an exhausting three hour shift at Applebee’s.  I'm glad the shifts are short because breaking in my New, uniform required, slip resistant, Wal-Mart shoes was a job all in itself.

Upon entering thru the garage, I surveyed my not so clean house and realized something needed to be done...And it needed to be done Sans Pants (If you don't know by now the distain I have for pants, than you don't me at all.  Accept it or get out).

I first walked around the house - made sure the blinds were done - and decided to have a little fun with myself.
NO! WRONG!

Completely incorrect wording. Not like that.
I decided to have some completely appropriate ME time (sans pants).  I put on my favorite girly mix C.D.  I had a plan.  I was going to blare the chic music and during each song, clean one room.   If I finished cleaning before the song was over - I would then proceed to grab an object within my reach and use it as a microphone in front of the nearest mirror.  You know u may think I'm weird, but haven't you seen Charlie's Angels?  Cameron Diaz had so much fun making her bed in the morning while doing a little dance. You want to know why all that was fun? No pants. 

I have to say, it was wonderful.  Now, I have relaxed Sans Pants before - it's always enjoyable- but I don't think I have ever completed typical household activities in the middle of the day.  How liberating!

I decided to take it to the next level.  I called my friend Sami, unbeknownst to her I was in as little as possible (it would just freak her out) and I decided to head outside for a smoke. That's right, Ladies...Sans Pants, Outdoors style.

I poked my head out the backdoor for a quick look and decided it was safe to move to my "smoking chair."

You know, it kind of felt like streaking, but with a more cool and confident dignity. Plus I have a tall fence around the back yard. If anyone wanted to, they could easily open the door or look through the cracks.   I risked it. Why? Because I'm a risk taker.  I often venture into the unknown for the sake of exploring what man (and woman) kind are too afraid to know.  Christopher Columbus, Napoleon, BuZz Aldron, The Emma.

I felt like I had reached a higher state of mind than the rest of ignorant society - no offense.  I'm not gonna lie. I became a little arrogant whilst resting majestically in my backyard. Sitting outside in my tank top & bottoms on a really freakin hot Mississippi day felt wonderful.  And my legs are blindingly white.  

So far, just a typical day, Sans pants.

I headed back inside to load the dishwasher, singing as a worked "To the left, to the left, ohhh. To the left, to the left. U must not know 'bout me, U must not know 'bout me" Yeah, Beyonce ain't got shit on me (except talent, But talent is in the ear of the beholder, and at the moment I was that beerholder)

I then decided it was time for a little Donkey Kong...Sans Pants.

That's what I've been doing up until now, but my Nintendo thumb gets callused when I play to long so I'm giving it a break.

Also I hear the garage door which means I must return back to my fully clothed state and once again conform with the rest of clothed society.

But there is a lesson, ladies, and I'm going to point it out for you.

Many of us don't really have the time or money for a vacation whenever we need it.   Many of us deserve one every week or so, but that's not realistic...or is it?

I have discovered a new world! A world where you can set your problems aside, be a whole new person, a world Sans Pants!  I believe a world Sans pants is a world Sans Problems!  Leave the problems in the pockets, I say. 

However - A couple rules. 

Don't abuse it and don't bring your friends with u. That's just creepy.

7 Years later...

The other day I was writing a letter to one of my dads (we'll get into that later) and I was trying to express my frustration of feeling creatively hindered.

I closed my email with these words:

What am I doing this weekend? Great Question. I Don't know.  But I sure hope it's something amazing, some how.  I'm feeling all my creative energy being shackled. Before I had excuses such as work and school and motherhood and responsibilities.  Now, I have other distractions. I keep offering to help Jason with his creative projects, but feel I'm getting little return. I need to do something for me or I'll go nuts.  I need to either write, or film, or create. I need to climb something amazing or I need to hop in the car and just drive and drive, stopping only to take a photo or a video or reflect on something profound. I need to travel the globe in search of Wines and beers and cheeses and other amazing pleasures and then I need to paint a word picture of it to the world. I need to be inspired. I need to lock my self in a little room with a bottle of booze and write and write for days. I need to write to the brink of insanity,then crash hard.
I need to shut out all of my worldly obligations and focus on the writing. That's what I wish I was doing this weekend.
However, I'll probably just wake up, make food, do dishes and repeat. Throwing in a bit of laundry here and there. That's almost just as good..right?


I am 30 years old now. I have a boyfriend, a 2 1/2 year old son, and everything else that revolves around it. I told Danny ( my boyfriend) that if I didn't do something creative I may just explode. I wish I had the time to sit and write this the way I want to, but I can't. I need to finish dishes, take a shower, and head out to babysit and do laundry.

I spoke to that same Dad again today and said:

I need to accomplish something. I'm climbing the walls of my brain. You know, after I wrote to you yesterday, I tried to explain that feeling to Danny.  I said "you're a musician of sorts. Did you ever have those days when you felt like all you want to do is sit down and write an amazing song? just sit and play your music until you come up with something brilliant?'
He said  "Nothing as much as you're describing"
In a way appreciated that he didn't underestimate my passion, but I felt a little bummed that no one could understand this itch. It's like a need -  a fix or something. I think this is why creative people are considered crazy or actually go crazy. Writers block or even "creative block" (c) feel like being placed somewhere on the autism Spectrum. It's like trying to communicate, but not being able to. There is this creative monster inside of us and if we don't feed it properly - it may destroy us. However, if we feed it too much, it may gain too much strength and consume us. We creative geniuses walk a line of story telling and blasphemy.  Now I'm just sounding all dramatic for the fun of it ;)


I'm sharing all of this so you may understand where I'm coming from and why many of my thoughts and rants will seem scattered until I get a good hold on them.
Now being thirty, I feel I haven't had the time or correct desire to mold all of this creative ambition into something worthwhile.

The first thing I decided to do in my journey to rediscovering my creative self was to track down my old blogs. They aren't well written one bit, most of what I write won't be. However, I feel by looking at them, I can gain some perspective.

The blogs start on The Start of the year 2007.  At that point in time I was living with my then fiancé, Chris. I had just quit my job and moved to Michigan to be with him. He had been relocated there months earlier. We found out that we were being transferred to the Memphis area soon. He worked a lot and I bounced between part-time jobs. In 2007 I was about 24 years old and still hadn't really experience life. I was constantly putting my life off and then all of a sudden I was engaged and taking the next steps.
I was insecure and sarcastic, Hell, I still am.
Looking back at these blogs it all seems so obvious. I should've realized that the marriage was a bad idea. Hindsight is 20/20 - right?  However, in the bitter, confusing, terrifying moments of our lives is where most writers find inspiration. They find that kick they need.
Writers would be miserable if they were happy :)

Today, I happened to find a blog that perfectly mirrored the creatively frustrated emotions that I am currently having. I thought it appropriate to post and compare notes between the then and now.

Subject: Big things

Date Created 5/18/2007 12:47:00 PM

Posted Date 5/18/2007 1:50:00 AM

Being a human I am constantly wandering and wondering.  I am twenty-four years old and what is this all for? Why can't we get a second try, knowing then what we know now?

Feeling completely restless creeps up on you - it starts with an inkling and then smacks you in the face.  Pretty soon you're lying on your back, relentlessly keeping your eyes from blinking while you stare at the sun.  Why? Just to see.  Because the restlessness has sank in, the fear that you will never do anything great. The fear that all you are destined for is a life of trying to get ahead, and for what?  What is at the ahead?

Why are we all programmed with this mythical belief that at some point in your life - you will "be ahead" and it will actually be good enough for you to just relax?  Really? Stop and think about that, how logical is it to work your ass off just so you can sit on it? 

I love my fiance , but at times - I feel that he thinks so little of me and doesn't realize it. Well he doesn't think little of me, that's wrong to say, but I think that he thinks simple of me, even if in his mind it's a good thing, in mine it isn't.  Sometimes I feel like he doesn't know me.  Most of me knows that what I am mistaking for his underestimating me, is simply him caring so much.  I do know that...somewhere inside.  But Why do I feel like this? I'm pent up and anxious. Excited and Bored.  Being in a new place I have no one to blame except myself...and that won't do.  Enter Scapegoat fiance.  And he unwillingly becomes my poor unknowing frustration release tool. Sorry Pumpkin.

It's little things.  Very little things.  That make me want to pull my fucking hair out.

Like how he feels the need to constantly say things like.  "Hey do you think you could do the laundry”, or “hey I got a project for you - how about you get this cleane?"  Little things like that, and all I want to do is sit the guy down and say I love you but....Don't I keep the effing house clean, I clean the effing thing every damn day, I do the effing laundry and excuse me for putting your stuff nicely folded and on hangers in a basket for you instead of putting them away, but since we moved in I don't really know where your shit goes and you’re all anal about that.”  Those things, bother me.  It just makes me feel like he is under the assumption that I am an irresponsible lazy child who otherwise would not do my typical "wifey" house hold chores if he wasn't there to remind me and keep me on track.

And in actuality I do know why he does that.  Chris is a working man - he does a lot of work at home - he doesn't punch in or out and then that’s it, he works as long as he needs to.  So, often he talks to me as if he is still working.  Many a time when we are going over our plans for the day he will sum them up in a way very similar to the way he ends a conversation with a client.  It took me a while to notice this. But now every time I'm on the phone with him I notice when he is still in work mode - it's almost like completing a transaction.

Example "Okay, I'll see you around 7 pm and maybe catch a bite to eat while we go over the available movies playing.  If you see anything you like we can definitely talk about it and see what our options are for pursuing what you choose as viewing pleasure"  ( I may be exaggerating a little...but the tone of voice gives off a very businessey air)

The other thing - I want a motorcycle; I have for a long time.  Just something small, like a little 250 Ninja or something.  I don't want it for racing or going fast.  Just to be able to ride on one, feel the wind, see the outdoors at my own speed.  I used to ride on the back of Chris's, but I just hated being a passenger - especially when he would speed and I would ask him to slow down, just while I was on, and he wouldn't.  He always said - I'm not going fast, I know what I"m doing, calm down.

Immediately it turned into me being one of those female backseat drivers, but that's not it.  A lot of people just can't be passengers, and I can't with him.  I used to ride with my old boss, Tim from Valvoline, and I never had any problems with him.

Anyways, Chris says that I probably shouldn't have a bike, because I am to Jumpy.

I cannot be treated as a sideline girl in the game of life.  I am not here solely to cheer on someone else.  I need to do things, or I will get restless and I will explode.  I thought it might be fun to get into roller blading - like eventually I would like to be able to do jumps and tricks and all that fun crap. I am not dumb however.  I am currently just learning and I won't even go to fast or down a big hill until I buy all the equipment.  And these are just rollerblades. I could tell he was edgy about my even rollerblading on the street, and that made me feel like a child.

I am not a stupid little girl, trying to be tuff.  I'm not tuff.

I may be ditzy, but I'm not dumb.

I think there comes a point in your life where you demand respect and if you don't get it, you may just go ape shit.  But if you’re a female you know what that is called?  It's called being bitchy.  Am I right?

I know that everyone feels this way.  I am sure that it is mostly females, or maybe younger siblings, or maybe just smaller people, or those who just didn't succeed somewhere in life.

Constantly being underestimated - even if it is in the most polite and courteous why, even if there is some merit behind it, even if it is just from a caring point of view, can really play on someone’s self esteem.  There are a few ways that a situation like this can carry out.

1. The underestimated party will submit to the fact that they most likely should not attempt the difficult feats that lay ahead.  This person will probably continue to submit in the future. End of Story.

2. The person will do it anyway and get really fucking pissed off.

3. That person won't do it, and will still get really fucking pissed off and hold a grudge for all things left incomplete.  Even though it is their own damn fault for not doing it, they may take it out on said person who underestimated them in the first place.

Please don't take this as some sort of criticism on my fiance, he just gets pulled into stories as a basis for a starting off point when I am trying to create an example.  The poor boy is constantly getting dragged in just to be a means to my end. Also, I am a writer, to some degree, and it is my way to embellish on certain things.  Of course you all know me, so I really don't need to explain myself.  Just so no one gets the wrong Idea.

What I am trying to do is talk and relate to anyone out there like me.

 

Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage

 

Is it everyone, or just a few people who have this tug inside of them? The urge to do something big, great, or something fucking awesome.  I don't want fame or any of that crap, but there are some people who need to accomplish something that is big for them - no matter how small that big thing may be to anyone else.

I know that it is responsible to plan ahead and all that crap and I think that's what I may spend the next year doing. 

All I know is that I cannot let this be what I have waited my whole life for.  I think that I slowly need to train Chris to not be so Thirty.  He loves me, but I think he keeps forgetting that I am still starting off and didn't get to do all the things he did. I never got to go to a real higher educational institute and live like a real college kid.  When I should've been at that point in my life I was working 2 full-time and 1 part time job, just to pay rent and survive. 

I cannot sit on the sideline and watch another year go by.

I have my napkin (A list of things I want to accomplish before I turn 25).  Once that list is complete...

Or maybe this is all my mid-twenties crisis and my PMS working against me to create a large, long-winded, piece of grammatical bullshit, eh?

End

Back to 2014:
 

At some time I'm just going to post all of my previous blogs in order. However, I thought I would lead with this one because it explains the whole purpose behind my starting THIS new blog.

It's the frustration. The Itch. The clawing in your brain that screams "Write" "Create" "Achieve" "Do SOMETHING" "Do fucking ANYTHING! Time is running out!"

So it is.
What to do?