repressed feelings

I decided I am going to think out loud over here instead of saying all the comments I really want to say…

No. You are not going to get ebola.

I don’t believe in God, the Lord, and all that invisible man whatnottery. God isn’t great. I am not sorry or a bad person for not believing.

There are a thousand things that look more appetizing than the slop some people post. I have seen puddles of vomit that looked tastier.

No one cares where anyone is “checking in”

Friendship is a two way street that you haven’t traveled on in years.

Doing something one time does not make you an expert.

I really should be doing 1000 other things than wasting my time here.

 

shreds

Amongst my boredom the other night, I fell into the link clicking wormhole. In doing so I stumbled upon a website that I really wish I had never seen. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at: forums where random anonymous people (assholes/haters/mouthbreathers) do nothing but look at the websites of people who blog and then proceed to absolutely rip them apart. And I mean RIP APART.

Curiosity got the best of me and I found myself reading some of these “forums” and I was absolutely saddened and disgusted that that level of time was dedicated for the sole purpose of hating on people you know absolutely nothing about. I vacated as quickly as I found it.

I would like to think that people, “people” being a generalized statement, have better things to do with their time. I guess I am a little naïve in thinking that way. Not sure why I am even posting about it but here I am because two days later, I am still kind of taken back by the whole thing.  It was really bothersome to me.

Long before the days of The Book Of Faces, I felt a natural inclination to share pieces of my life online. I didn’t think I was an interesting person, in fact, I didn’t think much of myself. I was lonely and didn’t have many friends. I have been writing and putting out dribble since my early 20’s. This path is an interesting one… on one hand you open up parts of your life to complete strangers which can be good and bad. It has brought drama of all sorts… let’s face it, when you have a mouth as big as mine, it comes with the territory. On the same vein, it has afforded me amazing connections with people some of which I yet have to meet in person but hold so so dear, some who are the best of friends and some who I wish had never found me. I never did it for popularity, for bragging rights, or even to make a living… it was just something I did because it felt right at the time.

I write to vent, commiserate, share, communicate. It’s a cheap form of therapy. It’s an outlet for me and while I am a grammatical nightmare, it is my place nonetheless… and the idea that someone would come here just to “hate read” while rolling their eyeballs is sad to me.

We all have a spot in the world to dent. I would like to think that my dent, while small, leaves a larger mark than my foot makes. It takes courage to open up about who you are, what ails, inspires and defeats you. To make something from nothing and put it out in the world. Sure, that stuff gets lost in the fold of superficiality but behind all of it is a fucking person. Think about that.

So on behalf of myself and probably other bloggers, artists, musicians, those people who have been on the receiving end of getting ripped apart… I have something to say to you: I dare you to do what we do. I dare you to create something and share a piece of yourself with the world. If you don’t, you don’t have a leg to stand on. Those of us who DO are better for it. There is more reward in shedding light behind the veil, far more some random haters who want to judge will ever receive. So if you’re a doer and a maker, keep at it. Let them stew. You’re doing something right.

And to the cowards, the keyboard warriors who hide behind their monitors of fear? FU.

photo

only

I won’t lie, there has been a lot of bullshit going on in the world and since it is plastered all over social media, it has made me all kinds of rage face. I have literally sat in front of my computer looking like this…

original

I try to avoid the news. It’s not because I like to pretend that things aren’t happening, but because it really bums me out. It’s self preservation. But then I find myself on fb and I get sucked into the vitriol, the comments, the sheer stupidity and ass backward thinking that people have. It boggles my mind dude. How is it that we live in a society of forward thinking, where we are supposed to be smarter, more evolved and have information of all kinds readily accessible to our fingertips and yet people seem to be getting DUMBER?

See Beaker photo up there ^.

I literally have to step away, light some nag champa, and chant my newest mantra: “I will not engage in arguing with stupid people, I will not engage in arguing with stupid people, I will not engage in arguing with stupid people”.

I can’t even get into how sad and revolting it is that people took the time to protest a bus full of illegals KIDS. Criminal, really. I’m the daughter of an immigrant who came to this country to do better for himself. Don’t give me this “speak English or GTFO” crap, ok? I speak it and probably better than most yahoos who probably couldn’t even pass the civics portion of the immigration naturalization test or still don’t know the difference between “your” and “you’re”. I’m sure those 8 year olds are dying to take away your jobs. Assholes.

I won’t get into a full on diatribe but it makes me sick to my stomach that women and what they do with THEIR BODIES is such a fucking problem in this society. We can’t win dude. We say nothing and we’re viewed as complacent, submissive and weak. We say something and we’re labeled as bitches, cunts and whores. Which one is it, yo?

Anyway, I wrote all kinds of mean shit in my Facebook status box and removed it cause all it was doing was pissing me off. So I deleted them and hoarded my feelings to myself, or chatted with Josh because with him I can have a calm, intelligent discussion.

“Tomorrow is another day”, I said to myself. It came and here I am, going off about shit. Ha. I never learn.

And then I got this e-mail from one of my credit card companies. They want me to take the time to complete a survey to enhance their user experience. “It should only take about 20 minutes to complete”. Are you high Clairee? Only 20 minutes.

You know what I can do in 20 minutes or less?

– Take a shower and get dressed to look like a respectable human being
– Call a handful of people and leave “I miss and love you” messages on their voicemail because lets face it, no one answers their shit anymore.
– Play with my kid
– Play with myself if said kid wasn’t on Summer vacation.
– Do shit I am supposed to be doing instead of writing this pointless, disjointed post.

You get the picture. Only 20 minutes. I just really should write them back and tell them that unless I get an offer for a lower APR and a reach around, then they can shove their survey up their brown starfish, or pink if they partake in anal bleach.

So yeah.

See Beaker photo up there ^.

disorder

*click* (blank blog post window appears)

Starts typing out and not only does that opening sentence make no sense, it just sounds stupid.

highlight… delete.

This is how it usually starts and I find when I really want to say something that isn’t superficiality, you always have to find a decent point of entry.

*another sentence is typed, highlighted and deleted*

I feel like I am on the edge of something. You ever have that moment when you get what you want and then you think, “now what?”. That is where it is. For years it seemed that leaving NJ was the goal. So much so that everything fell to the side. And it happened…. and then you realize there were a lot of things that got neglected cause you were focused (read: stressed) to think about anything else.

I haven’t really been mentioning it much but the past few months I haven’t been well. The anxiety, stress and physical demand of the move really messed me up. Pair that with eating out far more than one should and things just happened. I am having issues with my joints, hands, arms.. they feel stiff and overall my system feels like a swollen, unhappy mess.

I was lucky enough to find out that the Tibetan medicine dr. I was seeing in San Diego a couple years back has a practice about an hour from where we are and he sees patients once a month. It’s a sign and just like that I jumped at the opportunity to go under his wing once more. I saw him yesterday and I am about to take on the undertaking of some lifestyle changes. I need to. I am seriously noticing some changes in my body and I know a lot of it is attributed to age. I will be 39 in November and while that is still a young age, I don’t feel that way and things need to change. Damn you nature and your whole process!

Reza going to school full time has been key here. I have more free time and all of a sudden the gates are open for me to do more with myself and for myself. I went from 2.5 free hours a day (peanuts) to full time. I could hear Kool & The Gangs’s “celebration” in my head as we walked back to the car after dropping her off. It sounds selfish as fuck and in the parenting world you’re very much viewed as such cause you want “me” time.

The other day I shared a photo that was going around of a mother jumping for joy cause her kids were going back to school. It was passed around all over Facebook… yes, you know where this is going. Of course I fell trap to reading the comments section, aka where the cesspool of humanity goes to unload on one another. What was supposed to be a joke turned into a parental bashing session and many of the comments summed up: that somehow you aren’t a good parent for celebrating your moment to breathe. You should want to be with your precious nugget 24/7! That is what you signed up for! You like that? Some parents live for this shit, being the taxi driver, lunch packer, nose wiper… good for you if you do. I enjoy it but it isn’t everything I am. I guess this is where I differentiate myself. Before I am a mother, I am a woman, person, wife. If I don’t honor the other roles in my life how am I supposed to be good at the one I am “supposed” to enjoy the most? Balance. Too much focus on one and another will suffer. I don’t suck myself into the role of motherhood the way a lot of other people do and I just can’t allow myself to being condemned for doing/acting in a manner that feels right for me. Newsflash people: There is no model for the RIGHT way. If you think there is, well I don’t know what to tell you.

So the next couple of weeks are going to be interesting. I have a lot of time and I plan on putting it to better use. Getting back on an exercise routine, eating better, getting back into the art, making our space feel more like home. Speaking of space…

We knew that coming to NorCal was going to be an adjustment. The cost of living here is a lot higher and we downscaled in order to make it happen. Apartment living has been interesting, especially when you haven’t done it since 2005. You learn a lot about people when you have to share space, walls and amenities with them. I could do without the smoker under us who really doesn’t give a F her cancer cloud comes into our apartment for one. People can be so gross. You know what else is sad? People who don’t know the difference between trash and recycling. Edumacate yourselves fools! Electric stoves and mini blinds blow. Ha! I get the electric stove part though, the last thing you need is your apartment getting blown up cause the moron next door doesn’t know how to use a stove properly. I do miss cooking over a fire…. electric stoves take away the primal joy of cooking.

I will say one thing, the people here are a lot nicer. Damn. You know how nice it was to take Reza to school and no one looked at us like we got off a fucking space ship? Awesome. It just makes me have a better disposition. Maybe it’s because I appreciate my surroundings that much more, because I know what it likes to feel displaced and incomplete. It is sad that sometimes you need to lose the things you love in order for you to really appreciate them. You feel me? Trust me, I felt and heard it loud and fucking clear. Just trust me on this one.

i’m torqued

If you are in a position to be a hiring manager, or in a position of authority that involves your interviewing potential candidates I am going to give you a huge tip: PUT YOUR FUCKING PHONE AWAY and give your candidate the time and attention they deserve.

Where is this coming from? Let’s just say someone I know had this happen to them. They spend time prepping for an interview with a panel of people only to have one of those panelists not even making eye contact and playing with their phone the entire time they were being interviewed.

If you cannot put your e-leash away for thirty minutes to give a potential employee your time and respect, how can you expect them to:

A) Even WANT to work for you
B) Have any kind of respect for you as a peer should they even be selected. Cause guess what? They won’t.

You know, I am not on the job market but I know A LOT of people who are. Some more hard up than others, some who NEED the job cause they have families to feed and massive amounts of bills to pay, some who have been looking for 1 year or more, some who need the insurance so badly but cannot afford it on their own, some who just need that chance and are probably great at what they do but are blown off cause they don’t look the part. But check this out, just cause someone is looking for work doesn’t mean they are so hard up they’d be willing to tolerate this class of bullshit. Because that is what it is, a steaming pile of rude, disrespectful, BULL and SHIT.

The job market is terrible enough as it is. Breaking news people! It isn’t just the economy. It is also the people who are put in position to make decisions, a position where their choices affect the lives of others. The same people who cannot even send a properly written email even in a world with autocorrect and spell check, a response to say “thank you for your time”, the people who tell you they will get back to you and leave you waiting for weeks and even months on end with a decision only to be told no.

It’s sad that in a world where technology has made it easier for people to communicate, we are falling to the wayside of one liner e-mails or no response at all cause the bot does it for you. Of course these people don’t see it that way cause they’re sitting pretty at the end of a $5000 conference table, dicking around with their phone. I’m sure that game of Angry Birds is that important it couldn’t wait for you to finish your interview, an interview you were being paid to perform by your company.

We live in a world where common sense and the time of another person is treated with such little respect. I don’t know about you but there is something called “dignity” and I know a lot of people who value themselves enough to have it, enough to not tolerate this class of mistreatment and disregard.

Think about that the next time you pick up your phone while someone is talking to you, asshole.

vinegar

I opened this window with intent to go off about how much yesterday sucked. It truly did… I got clawed by the cat in a way that makes me look like I had sex with Wolverine, hit and yelled at by a complete stranger in the grocery store, PMS hit me like a tsunami and the weather went from beautiful to grey winter hell in less than 24 hrs. It was that day where I could not catch a break and it has now trickled in to today as well. I feel like I have been sick since November.

Good news, sunshine, Spring? Come our way yeah? Cause I need a break in a big fucking way. I’m stressed out yo.

And friends, please excuse my distance. I know I haven’t been the best friend lately and it may come off like I am being a self absorbed prick but I got a lot in my head right now that needs sorting out. I hope you don’t think I am being a shitty homie, cause that is so not how I roll.

Something has to give.

/PSA.

back to basics

Recently I read a blog post that someone else linked to and something in it really resonated with me…

“It seems to me like that the last time blogging was fun was a few years ago. Blogs became less of a reflection of a way things are and more a reflection of what people want.” – helenjane.com

Not my words but definitely the right ones.

Let’s face it, the world of blogging has become a vapid hole. Facebook has pretty much paved the way for the lazy to say what they want to say without having to make the effort to communicate their thoughts in a more eloquent manner. Sites are making the shift from feelings and desires, to wants and false sense of need.

I remember when I started my livejournal account well over 10 years ago, I was naive to the world of writing (still am) and really had nothing to lose. I put it out there, the good, the bad and the really fucking ugly. Not sure how but with that honesty I made e-friends and in some cases, more than that… I eventually met my husband and people who I still call friends beyond the electronic box on my desk.

One of my favorite bloggers recently wrote a post, an emotional post full of perfect wording and obvious vulnerability. I watched it blow up from overwhelming comments of “I have so been there” to people judging her for what and how she wrote it.

It’s like all of a sudden we are not allowed to show more than just the obvious: the photos, the fun, the self portraits in our bathroom mirrors. Showing any form of honesty and vulnerability is met with either sympathy or punishment.

As archaic as people seem to think that Livejournal has become, it had something that no amount of social media sites could replicate: Community. Any scumbag can have a twitter and facebook account, but not everyone can be anything like the amazing, smart, witty, sympathetic and quality people I have met over the years via my blog. Sorry chirpy bird and Zuckerberg, your shit has become a necessary evil to many but it will never be my number one when it comes to putting myself out there.

The walls have come down and on many occasions they have been under lock, key and wall… only for a few to know and see. You know what? That stops right now. It changes right here. I say what I want, how I want, about what I want and either you can join in with me, to laugh, cringe and cry, or you go elsewhere.

The last of my family left us today. It has been an emotional series of days where my world shifted from the storm to the calm. As much as I was craving for things to go back to normal, the silence is deafening. It’s going to take me a bit to get my footing back to the steps I was walking in. Reza starts school really soon and I am going to have a lot more time to myself, see it how you will, this could be a good or a bad thing. I will know more when I get there. One thing I do know, the art and the bike are calling me hard and I am going to immerse myself in both.

The Dirty Secret

Last week I was out and about doing my thing and I could feel this poking underneath one of my breasts. I get home and inspect only to realize that the wire in my bra had cracked in half. I pictured something like this…

20120508-165819.jpg

Little guy finally gave up and caved under the mammary pressure.

So I sigh in defeat and throw out one of the two functional bras I own. Sad times. Now, I know you’re asking yourself, “TWO?”. Yes, two. I know it sounds absolutely asinine to own so little.

In my venting the sadness of said wire explosion on Facebook, I came to a realization: I hate bra shopping with an unholy passion and I am not alone.

A) I have big boobs – duh
B) I have a wide back

Because of these two things and a serving of side-boob, bra shopping is defeating and awful.

So in an attempt to replace the broken boulder holder, I do what I need to do and set forth to bra shopping hell: Victorias Secret

I walk in and I am greeted by this atrocity….

20120508-163355.jpg

Not sure when the 80’s came back but it was a goddamn puddle of neon vomit. Who wears this shit? For one, lace looks terrible under t-shirts and a color that bright would strike through anything so unless you’re a go-go dancer, stripper or hooker, this serves me no purpose whatsoever. I like a good “fuck me” undergarment just as much as the next girl but pink that bright would not only blind him but kill his erection instantaneously. Josh is very particular about the visual stimuli.

Then another problem… Everything has padding, some so obscenely padded that it takes up half the cup. Why would I, size D, want my tits to look bigger than they already are? I don’t need help and I also don’t believe in false advertising. Can’t a girl just find a simple, black little number that lifts and separates? Is that too much to ask?

So there I am, among a sea of neon, padded, ill fitting bras… Surrounded by posters of Miranda Kerr or whoever their güera flaca of the moment is, both of which could probably fit their entire body in one of my pant legs. You see where this is going? Defeat.

The sales girl encourages me to shop online. LMAO. Why do companies do this? The larger sizes are available “online only”. Dude! Us girls with the thickness are the one that need to try shit on the most! And so I’m relegated to buy and try on a bunch in hopes that one fits? Right. Who has that kind of money and time? Even when they do have my sizes I usually grab 10 to try on and if I’m lucky, one will feel good. One! And then I grab another 2 in the same style cause I just won’t torture myself into hoping I’ll find another “cute” style.

There are plenty of lingerie manufacturers that make sizes to accommodate the brick houses of the world but one look and you would rather wear a sports bra. Lacey grandma bras that make your tits look like pointy missile gazongas. So damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

I’m sure someone out there is shaking her head saying “oh boo hoo, look at this chick crying over big boobs” and you know what I have to say to you? F U. Big tits are overrated as fuck. Yes, you can use them to get out of speeding tickets, getting the bartender’s attention and they lend themselves for motorboating and hot dogging. On the flip side of that coin they also hurt, my back hurts and they will inevitably serve as pencil holders as they make their way south. How chicks run out and voluntarily get gigantic, globulous implants is beyond my comprehension.

Thankfully I happened to discover that lohemans does exist in the armpit of America and I found a saucy, comfy and black little number by Natori. And for half off! Thank you Natori for delivering where everywhere else failed. And yes, I only found ONE. Go figure.

about “realness”

The other day Josh and I were talking about this image that was making the rounds on facebook. If you are on facebook chances are, you saw it. Here, let me refresh your memory…

He said to me, “did you see that photo?” and yes I had. He asked me how I felt about it, which then led me into discussion similar to this post…

I have a problem with this image. Want to know why? Here we go…

I am what society calls fat. I know this, have struggled with it all my life. By definition of the medical community I am considered obese. 5’3, size 14. I was lucky to be born with hips and chesticles, big ones too! Josh loves them. Now, what I don’t have is ass. I am a pancake back there. So there, I’m the “big girl”.

I could sit here and applaud that image, thinking to myself, “YEAH! Curves are so much better! Real women have curves!! YARRR”. But instead I cannot help but be offended at how much wank goes on about women and their sizes. The sad part is a lot of the time it’s women ripping apart other women.

Let’s look at who was used for basis of comparison, shall we?

Heidi – girl had multiple plastic surgeries to look that way. AKA unhappy with herself, probably emotionally skewed views of her body image.

Keira – Have you seen her ever? She has always been rail thin. She has probably been naturally waifish since she was a teenager.

Have you ever thought that those thin people also feel the pressures of looking a certain way? That they don’t obsess on the insults just as much as we do?

I know what you’re thinking! “ZOMG, the fatty is defending the thin people, aren’t they glorified enough?! What the hell, aren’t you supposed to be on our side?! Traitor!”.

What am I getting at here? I am getting there….

I know women, online and otherwise who are just naturally thin. They have lean, athletic, small boobied, no assed, small hipped bodies. They’re not anorexic, have eating disorders, etc. Sure, there are always going to be those who do but for all intents and purposes, this post is not about those with diseases. That is a whole other animal. But a lot of these naturally thin girls? That is what they are and have been most of their lives.

I defy you to tell me that they are not real cause they don’t have “more cushion for the pushin'”. Seriously? If you really believe that dribble than you are no better than the fashion industry force feeding “thinner is better” into everyone. Newsflash! Meat on your bones doesn’t make you a “real woman”, being more than a B cup or being 36-24-36 doesn’t make you a real woman either.

I am just so sick and tired of all this wankery. You know what the worst part of it all is? A lot of the times these statements are coming from women about other women. Aren’t we supposed to stand up for one another? We expect the perceptions to change and instead you’re posting that lame photo on facebook to justify yourself and make yourself feel better that you aren’t a size 2. Yes, women have changed over the years but last I checked this isn’t the 50’s anymore… and if that was 20-30 years prior all of the women on the bottom row would be labeled as whores for showing too much skin. See what I did there?

So this is me, saying yes, I am a not a size 2, and probably will never get under a 10. I am ok with this. What I am not ok with is seeing this bullshit perpetrated and fed into. Let me tell you something… Your calling the thinner girls “gross” and “skeletal” is just as prejudice and demeaning as someone calling you a “fat ass”. So cut it the fuck out already.

Being honest, truthful, honorable, comfortable, happy and respectful to who we are is what makes us REAL. Being that person and doing it with grace is what makes us a woman. There are things I would love to change and every day I work to change them, to be a better person. By definition, that is what makes me a real PERSON. What makes you real? It certainly isn’t the size of what is attached to your chest.

energy vampire

I understand there are such things as lulls and bad luck, but man, the amount of tragic spice, whining and complaining from a lot of people on my feeds is… wow. It’s sad that people cannot see the value in life and themselves enough to boost them up a little. Look, shit gets bad, god do I know that one but at the same time, it could always be worse.

I am not immune to having moments where things feel overwhelming but I don’t put it out there to get a pity party. When it’s ALL. YOU. DO… You got to wonder, is it bad luck or are you getting dished back what you put out? If all you do is put out the woe is me, why do you act surprised when good things pass you by? If all you do is make bad decisions, then why are you sad that things don’t go your way?

In many circumstances, I don’t like putting so much out there cause there is this whole thing about perception vs. reality. When you do nothing but piss/whine/complain, people are going to believe that is all you are. You destroy your level of approachability instantaneously… No one wants to go into a broken house yo.

I guess I have gotten to a point in my life where my priorities have shifted and holding the hand of people who refuse to help themselves just isn’t part of my M.O. anymore. I spent years getting the life sucked out of me by “friends” who wanted my help and advice and you know where that got me? Nowhere. Cause they are still the same people, doing the same thing.

So I see these people complaining and all it has done is check me. Do people see me like that? Fuck. The last thing I want is people reading what I write and saying, “jesus, this chick is a fucking Debbie downer, get over it lady!”

This post is all crazy disjointed and I don’t care. What I am trying to say is, enough of the whining people. Fuck. There are people who would kill to be in your position!! No matter how broke, sick, jobless, fat, lonely, overwhelmed, etc. you are – there is someone out there that has it FAR WORSE than you do. Have a little gratitude to see the good you DO have and hey, don’t like it? Change it. After all, you can’t win the lottery if you don’t play.

That’s what I am going to do today… well besides, hide and ignore… I am going to take my own advice, recharge, reload, refresh and go buy some damn candles in case Irene decides we need no electricity.