Rage Against the Machine

I just now decided to check in on my good ol’ blog, as I was having a conversation with a coworker last night about writing. She suggested I started a blog so that if the chance of exposure ever arose, I could direct future interested parties to my website. I started pondering whether or not this particular blog would be appropriate for most audiences, when I discovered that…the last one I wrote (on June 17th) did not even post! This had nothing to do with my original purpose for investigation, and a whole new conclusion was reached. Computers are my arch nemesis.

I just got a spiffy MacBook Air from my friend, I paid $500.00 cash for it and worked my tush off to be able to afford that, I had to sacrifice purchasing a Gucci purse that I really wanted and a pair of Armani sunglasses. Who am I kidding? Those would have been $500 a piece, and since it was an all or nothing kind of accessory day, I went with the computer instead. Besides, I REALLY needed one, because:

A) I was headed for a foreign country in a matter of weeks and

B) I had two computers break on me in a matter of 2 months.

When did these computers start transpiring against me? I think it was right after I started dating a computer geek. That’s when s*** hit the computer fans. You would think with such a technological family, a home life that has no less than 6 laptops, 2 iPhones, 4 iPods, and a newly acquired iPad, I would have a grasp on at least how to turn the television on or to change the channel from ESPN to NPR. Wait, now I am confusing the radio and TV…and YouTube consequently.

I’ve had the same cellphone (which is ringing at this moment to some of Bob Marley’s finest (don’t ask me how on earth I discovered your phone could play popular music written by dead people)) for 4 years now. I get to “upgrade” tomorrow, June 27th. And I think I will just upgrade to the same exact thing because I still can’t make my finger type on those finger typing phone keyboards. In fact, the touch screens at work have me touching my own computer screen trying to get it to navigate the world wide web with my index.

The mouse on my mothers’ computer, which I am using right now, has me all discombobulated. Do I use the left clicker or the right clicker to go to the next page? Whoever named it a “mouse”??

The batteries in my digital camera die every three photos, making it difficult to travel light and inexpensively.

Like the next normal person living in a bubble of misunderstandings and misleadings, I love the possibilities of Facebook, Pinterest, and the fact that I can type this up and anyone from here to Timbuctoo can read it and know how much of a dork I am. Today I am going to pretend for a moment that I don’t hate technology. It hates me. Kinda like all the dogs in my neighborhood. Can’t imagine why…

A Little Bite of Sentence.

I reread the blog I wrote last week while swimming 18 minutes, ok a couple hours, in my sea of misery and self-loathing. This morning when I woke up (don’t ask why I set an alarm for 6 when I don’t have to work until 11), I noticed I had fallen prey, captive to, victim of, a common and current compositional conundrum. The overuse of the “.”. That’s right. Those short. Sentences. That require you to stop and take a breath with every. Last. Thought. As if it was to make you truly think harder about what you’re reading.

Is it working? Are you thinking really hard about what you just read? Well you shouldn’t be, because it was of little to no value. But perhaps this sentence will be. Oh, no that one was not either. I have noticed this trend popping up all over the internet, blogs everywhere no longer grappling with the classic run-on sentences and instead reverting to the path of the short sentence statements. Here is an elephant picture that has nothing to do with anything like most of the sentences in this blog. But, it sure makes you think, doesn’t it? 

I would love to write a few good run-on sentences to counteract my desire to stop short in the middle of typing and insert one of these. But, alas. I have forgotten how. My pinky finger just swoops in to grab that period whenever there is a little open space in a place I want you to think about what you just read. Or I want to make myself seem really artsy and fun as though I haven’t planned what I am typing before I am typing it. Well, that’s because I haven’t. I am a go-with-the-flow kinda girl. See. Look. Going. With. The Flow. Wow, I had no idea I was going to type that.

Thank goodness for pinkies.

Thank goodness for periods.

Happy Father’s Day!

What other short fragments, tidbits, and bobs do I have? Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (is the sound of that not atrocious?). Antidisestablishmentarianism. No, I looked neither of those up on Google. I am just that good at one word sentences.

Following this path of deep affinity
the magnetism of DNA

The truth of openness
The delight of discovery
The invention of new taste sensations
kindred souls

Find each other.
in this vast universe

You do exist!

I Want to Run A Way.

My life is so depressing. I am a waitress. I bring fattening food to people. I print their checks and put them on their tables. I serve them 100% against that which I value. I cater at trashy weddings. I watch as sloshed brides and grooms dance their wedding night away into drunken oblivion. I disassemble their tacky centerpieces with fake glowing candles. I try not to judge, but my brain sometimes gets the best of this resolution.

I have always want to write a book about how to stay healthy as a waitress/ in the service industry, but I have no idea how to accomplish this feat because as I write this, I am up at 12:16am, a glass of red wine in hand, trying to get myself to calm down emotionally and physically after the evening. I had my fingers in chocolate frosting and did not indulge, despite the fact that my blood sugar plummeted to it’s lowest depths. I have firmly resolved to EAT NOTHING from this particular restaurant. My hands are raw because I obsessively wash them during my shift, disgusted by the sight (never mind the FEEL) of Ranch dressing. My feet and legs are killing me, begging for a yoga inversion of some kind. My hair is a greasy mess, I got a new pimple on my face today. Why on earth am I 26 years old and back here? This is not only affecting me, it’s affecting others as well. Others whom I love, they hear my daily sob stories, but most of all they contend with my ridiculous schedule, that changes on a dime, and then changes back again. They probably are looking down at me and thinking, “Why can’t this girl get a real job?” Well, I am wondering the same thing.

Why can’t I find my True North?

Get my act together?

Well honestly, they judge though they may, they don’t have to feel the deep and agonizing inner pain that I am going through at this moment, judging myself, beating myself up, and then tearing myself to pieces and spitting myself out. They don’t have the mascara running down their cheeks that I do right now. I want to run away from all this. This haunting past life that holds me down, that binds me to finding something that keeps me from doing the very thing I want to do the most. To just live and love my life.

But that is all I do is run. Isn’t that what we all do when we don’t like a situation?
What does it look like to stay? To pay the price? I guess I will find out. Tomorrow. Through tear-blurred eyes.

What I Learned in the Ladies’ Room

Due to unforeseen circumstances and an unpredictable turn of events, I find myself in the throws of the service industry yet again. This time determined to work out all that bad waitressing karma for good so I never have to repeat this stage of life. One of the places I work, Luna’s Living Kitchen, known for it’s bright and artistic presentation of raw, vegan, foods has me in a nirvana of like-minded people and an upbeat environment. Change scenes to the dark, glum, ho-hum country tavern where I am waitressing. Or, at least, I am attempting to waitress but mostly that consists of bringing food to people who are looking either a) up at a television screen or b) down at their iPhones. I literally feel like it’s a crime to smile at place #2. I tried it today to a few customers and received several death looks, and probably scored myself a place on someone’s hit list.

Fast forward to lessons from the ladies’ room…

I had to go to the bathroom, so I took off my apron and sauntered into the one-stall bathroom/storage room of the raw foods cafe. I hear the distinct sound of someone peeing echoing through the walls, and I did not know if I should leave or awkwardly stay and pretend to be distracted with my reflection in the mirror, or washing my hands. I chose option two, staying and noticing for the first time that my eyes are BROWN! How fascinating. Who walks out of the stall while I am busy making googley eyes to myself!? It’s Claire Danes. We’ve met before. Only last time, I was a fellow customer and I did not say a word to her. This time, I decided I would muster up the courage to speak. I have no idea what I said. All I know is that it was entirely peppy, jibbery jabbery, and not even worthy of being considered small talk. She was QUITE short in her response, she looked really annoyed, and then I felt terrible for even bringing it to her attention that she was famous. I should have said something cool and nonchalant. Or played my funniest card. Is it the awful hat I am wearing? I know I have a small forehead. It was then that it struck me, people do not necessarily LIKE when other people walk around smiling all the time if they are not. They don’t really like people who are not in their bubble to talk to them. And furthermore, famous people probably get annoyed with everyone wanting to talk to them simply for the fact that they are well known and having nothing to do with their actual personhood. I felt like Claire and I could’ve been friends, had she juts given me a chance. But I sort of blew it…

I also feel like happy people make unhappy people even more unhappy. Or at least they use the happy people as an excuse to be more unhappy outwardly. Are you following all of this? It makes a happy person feel guilty.

The other thing I learned, and I learned this because I had to visit the ladies’ room about 20 times due to drinking one too many liquids, was to balance one’s blood sugar with PROTEIN and real food, and not just drink veggie juice on an empty stomach. I literally tossed myself into a celery coma today while drinking entirely too quickly a liquid dinner in an effort to rush back to work. 

Looking forward to seeing what happens when I start getting more and more raw!

Changes are abounding. Patience. Discipline. The tricky keys that will unlock the doors! It’s exciting to see. And it’s about time. So exciting, it makes me want to smile….

Even though everyone else is either grumpy or stuck to their mobile communicators.

 

No Easy Way Out

I know it’s from 1989, but please watch this video:

Last night, I had the opportunity to make a visit to the outback. No, not like the one with kangaroos, blokes and sheilas, and decisively Australian cowboy hats. This was the Outback, outback. As in, the restaurant. Prior to this evening, I have only ever been once in my life, and I did not order anything there. I can fully recall not enjoying the experience  although there may have been some sort of onion involved that help to assuage the situation for me. This time was no different, I tried to pull out last minute, to alter the plan according to my vegetarian and vegetable cravings, but alas, it was to no avail. And there I was, a patron of Chili’s, Carraba’s, Applebee’s, or at least what I felt was equally as soul-selling as if I had gone to one of these international houses of chains. Allow me to reel this  in by unveiling to you my three observations while there:

1. Everyone walking in and out of the restaurant at the moment of my arrival had a humungous belly and other appendages of their body. I was not judging these people per say, just wondering if I was in the right place and worrying about what on earth I would order in a place where guts are filled to this level of abundance. I had to drive home in the same car I arrived in, and I am not sure if it could handle that kind of extra load.

2. The waiter was a little disheveled and out of sorts, which got me to thinking about my latest application at a few restaurants and worrying about these similar feelings creeping up on me.

3. My friend whom I met, we’ll call her, Sheila, provided me with one eye-opening revelation after the other. We chewed the fat and shot the breeze, all the while my brain trying to determine the “Everything Happens for a Reason” aspect of this particular conversation. The conclusion, as I lie here awake at 3am realizing, being that which I keep coming back to and avoiding. Well this time, no one, nothing, can keep me down. I’ve made up my mind and I won’t back down. When I made up my mind a few days ago, things began happening that could have only happened with a choice like that made. Yesterday is officially gone and whether today be the turning point or another place I will return when I have fallen yet again, I at least know what I want now. I have decided. And don’t worry, Dad, I have not decided to marry the guy on the right, here, though he did propose…..with a pretty little ring from a Cracker Jack box.

Sometimes, in life, we make stupid decision upon stupid decision, we incur what seems like an endless load, we have sunk ourselves so low, built our walls so high, destroyed every bridge behind us. Literally, the only way out seems bankruptcy, wiping the slate clean. Begging for mercy and the keys to forgiveness. All done in secret, the exchange is made, a temporary loss for a long term gain. Fleeing it all and not telling anyone where you came from or how you got there. Within 24 months, you’re back, living the life you always intended to. Not even realizing it will all come crashing down as the lies follow you from town to town. The truth will outshine the darkness each time.

How long can I continue to sign up for the same liposuction surgery, the gastric bypass fix, the bankruptcy, the ignoring it all together technique, only to stuff my face and wallet with what brought me there in the first place? There is no easy fix sometimes to getting to that True North Star of yours. It’s the knowing what you want, realizing there are a series of changes that will occur, realizing that the pain of the unknown far outweighs the pain of the know. And realizing that this is the last time you will have to be coming out of that anesthesia, that numbing feeling will be worn off soon and you will be awake to the pain.

I am fully aware this is not going to be fun, at first. But I cannot put off hopping onto this bus that has gone out of it’s way to stop for me anymore, especially not because of my own piddly excuses.

And, what is “fun” nowadays anyhow?

“Our finest moments occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable or unfulfilled. We then start searching for truer answers.” -Unknown

Quit Cha’ Lyin’

I have been traveling around to and fro for awhile now. A few cities here, a couple countries there. It seems to be a common theme, a frequent occurrence for people to hide the truth from one another. Especially when interacting with one another with the goal of monetary exchange. It all makes perfect sense, we have to force ourselves to be cordial and nice sometimes to make things in this world happen. Unlike you and me, most people are not naturally nice and wishing the best for you in every possible moment, but they do not want you or me to know that, so they play an innocent game of pretend.

They mask their true feelings behind a practiced facial expression and body language that, to the untrained eye, matches their words. It seems to me people dabble with fakeness for the following reasons:

1. Power

2. Money

3. To be liked, which hopefully eventually equals power and money.

Just the other day, I accepted a job offer while lying through my teeth that this was what I wanted to be doing. This was days after telling myself I would never do this particular job and not work for this particular company. Now I am faced with a double moral dilemma, not only must I unravel and untangle my mistake of saying “yes” when I really meant “no”, I also must be true to my word and show up and do it in person. Is this the lesson? Or is the lesson to go through that which I have been through before and this time to show up with Grace? Is this lesson to figure out what I want rather than what I do want? To stop changing my mind every five seconds about what I do want? To stop taking advice?

I am so trying to be change my life and just be straight up honest with myself. Preferably BEFORE hitting rock bottom, though that is about to happen any moment here. Lying to myself is a downward spiral, and I am on the fast track down this water slide, indeed.

To conquer and pursue my biggest most baddest dreams. And to steer myself in the right way this time. As we begin to follow through on our promises, both to ourselves and to others, it is an upward spiral.

Today I read a quote: “Not even for a million dollars would I paint a tree.” The quote is by the artist – Willem de Kooning, 1968. Considering his abstract style and eclectic ways, I take this to mean that he would not succumb to the pressure to paint anything than that which he fully owned as his own. His own true North Star.

It’s so easy to be true to oneself when you want chocolate or ice cream, to chug whiskey solo in a dimly lit bar (a frequent activity of mine), or to lie basking in the sun all day working on your skin cancer….but when it comes to conquering and pursuing your dreams, and taking the real steps to make your goals happen…being true to yourself sounds like walking across hot coals. The known pain is so much more comfortable and warm than the unknown pain, isn’t it?