I've really needed to blog for a while. I've been having really weird thought and super trippy dreams. We're talking Lucy in the sky with Walter bishop trippy. So, I bequeath to you a sampling of gems from the past time period.
I noticed that all old people everywhere look like old people. Like no matter where you're from, you're going to end up looking like a gnarly apple when you get old.
Dogs don't like taking selfies.
Neither do cats
I was in a play. It was a great experience and super fun. However, it's not something that I'll be doing again. It made me bat crap crazy! Between having real kids and pretend kids, I almost lost my crap. The good news though? I totally looked like mrs. Patmore.
I swear there was more and you all were going to love it, but it seems I'm old and so I can no longer remember the dumb things I was gonna talk about.
On another note, I deduced the crap out of someone based solely on the knot of his scarf. If by deduce, you mean I could tell he has a Pinterest account because I've seen that knot zillions of time on there, then get me a Watson cause I'm amazing!
The boy is a big fan of Xbox. And by big, I mean that he'll throw a freaking fit if he doesn't get to play every single day. It's like Dudley freaking Dursley up in here. But recently he's been talking to this one kid who sounds like a kid. Either that or a foreigner or a munchkin from The Wizard of Oz. But this kid, we'll call him Gamertag, talks to other punk ass kids/teens in their nerdy little xbox Live parties.
One day these punks said something to The Boy like that he was a baby or something. He comes running in crying because these kids are picking on him. A few things popped into my head at this.
1. Punk ass punks need to check themselves before I wreck themselves.
2. That's life, son. People suck. Learn to deal.
3. Oh god, life is so weird with internet kids.
Seriously, why is there not a guide book for what to do when your seven year old learns about talking to other people on the xbox? Internet exposure has seriously screwed up my parenting style. Though to be fair my style is more of a rough guideline than anything.
I've noticed while living here in turkey that being unplugged is relaxing. I don't own a cell phone right now. And strangely enough, it's freeing. I'm not worrying about talking to this person or that person. I'm not being constantly bombarded by texts and information and crap. I can just be in the moment. Now if only I could get my kid to unplug and get in the moment.
So, we're getting ready to move to Germany in... roughly the time it takes an adult female human to gestate a tiny human. My therapist has had much to say on this topic. You see, much like crotchety old men and people with certain disorders and stuff, I don't dig change. When we moved here I immediately spiraled rapidly out of control so badly in fact, that I'm only now back on track after what? One year and a few months. No big right? Totes cool? Nope. Not remotely. It was a circle of Hell I wouldn't wish on Nancy Pelosi.
Anyway, my therapist gave me some homework. Hey, she knows who she's dealing with here. She wanted me to make a list of the most important things I've learned here. In regards to dealing with bouts of crippling depression and super spazzified anxiety episodes. So, I thought I'd share some of these gems with you. I went to Jared.
Ah hem...
I have learned while here that I don't react well to change. It makes me wonky. But the important part to remember is that sometimes it's okay to be wonky. You don't have to totally freak out because you'll never be happy again and the world is worthless and there's no point in living in a world if this is all you have to look forward to and blah blah blah... Emotions ebb and flow and that's all right.
I've learned that I'm worth a damn.
I've always had abominable self esteem, and it turns out that most of my problems stem from me not thinking I'm worth it. Like a make up commercial. I still don't wear make up or whatever but I'm starting to really feel like I deserve good things. I deserve to do something good for me. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have the great relationship I have with my husband. I deserve way more hugs and kisses and gratitude than I get from these little freeloaders I couldn't live without. I deserve to be successful and I deserve to be...
And dangit, people like me. Just last night I found out that an acquaintance of mine, when trying to figure out who I was knew me by the description "the squeaky one". Thanks for that hubster. Anyway, it turns out, she loves me. When I'm all like "Let's do this!!!" She's all like "Yeah, now I really want to do this." And while that might just be a goofy little thing, it meant a heap of a lot that someone I barely know thinks something nice about me. It's really hard to get out of thinking that you're just a giant hunk of crap, and sometimes it's nice to just get that little boost along you know.
Another thing I've learned is something I picked up a long time ago from a kung fu master I was familiar with. I've always thought it was terribly clever, but never applied it to my life.
And it's truth. It's one of the truthiest truths of any truth that ever truthed. Mindfulness. It's a psychobabble term as well as an easterny philosophy. They're a bit different, but essentially the same. Live in the now. Take the time now. Don't spend today worrying about yesterday or tomorrow. You'll tell yourself, I'll deal with life tomorrow, but there's always another tomorrow and another tomorrow and another tomorrow. Which ironically is the day I plan to go to the gym... Regardless. Just be present. Accept what is around you. It's like the serenity prayer or the beatles song. Do what you can with what you've got and the let the rest go. You are only human. I am only human, and as such, can only do so much. I can't change the weather, speed up the harvest, or teleport you off this rock. But I can do something about some things.
I learned that to be happy is not to be manic. To be happy is merely to be content. Let me say that again.
To be happy is merely to be content.
Those people who walk around constantly smiling and bubbly, they're medicated. Seriously. In some of my worst times, people would tell me how bubbly and outgoing I was and I'd be like WTF?!? Sometimes the façade is cheery but the inside is melting away. I used to wonder why I couldn't be like those people, you know the ones who have their shit together. They're all "I'm fantastic" and I'm all like "I hate you. Why are you so perfect? Why can't I be like you?" Which I guess leads us into another thing I've learned and that's to not compare yourself with anyone else. We're all messed up in some way, shape, or form. We've all got something. That perfect mom, she lost a baby. That cheery kid, she wants to waste away and die. That skinny girl, she just threw up a hamburger because her dad called her fat. And maybe not all that extreme, but everybody's got something. The point is that when you realize that you are you, it frees you up to, back to my first point, be content with your lot. Just be content with it all. I can't change my circumstances, so I accept them. That was such a freeing revelation. The entire world is not my problem. I'm not responsible for the manic happiness and wellbeing of every entity on this damn rock. I'm responsible for me. I'm responsible for how I feel. I can't do a damn thing about a lot of things, but I can change how I feel about them. And how I feel about them is content. I just let the things be what they will. It only makes me crazy and cuts weeks off the end of my life, so just chill.
I've learned a great deal about love also. Not like whoooo romantic love. Friendship type love. Love your friends. If you love/appreciate someone, let them know. Just be kind. Be a good person. Believe in something. Love someone. Those are important things. If you can do something nice for someone, do it. It doesn't hurt you at all to check on a friend or to say thank you or to just hug someone. And it certainly won't kill you to look a service worker of any kind square in the eye and say thank you. Be one with your fellow man. After all, once you skin us, we're all the same.
That's right, folks, tis the season! It's the annual, non-festive first showing of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Now before you go telling me useless information like the date, let me just say that y'all are lucky I've held out this long.
Every year, we watch this movie way too many times. And every year, I take something different out of it. Last year was "Merry Christmas. Shitter was full." You really should make sure to check your shitters at this, the Yule loggiest season of all. This year for some reason, it's the part at Clark's office when he tells the line of suits merry Christmas. It's just the funniest thing for some reason.
So our weather just changed over here, and if I pretend the palm trees don't exist, it's almost like being home. And that's another thing. You really can't go home, but by golly, once you've been gone for a while it seems like the happiest place on earth. Sorry Disney, my mama's house is cheaper and the food's better. It's not like its any less crazy than the last time you were there or that somehow your family morphed into the Cleavers. I mean let's face it, we're all way more Griswold than all that. But I just keep feeling the weather and thinking off all these horribly romanticized memories of Christmases passed.
I think of the time I got a puppy in my stocking, and all the other stuff like that. But it's not just the big things or even the things. It's the feeling of the heater running in an old farm house, curling up in flannel Jammie's, the Christmas Story marathon, and just being together. It's not like we liked each other more, it was just too damn cold to be anywhere else. But it was Christmas, dammit! And now I have to try to make these faux memories with my kids. It's all about the experience, Russ.
No, no, not Quentin Tarantino Fan fic or something weird like that, but actual fiction in the style of pulp. I was always under the assumption that I was at least moderately good, which in my head meant I was a complete freaking genius and the world would soon bow down to my word smithing prowess.
Guess not. Cause today I stumbled upon the first review of anything I've ever written, and while I'll admit, pulp is not at it's core supposed to be award-winning, this jerk was a jerk. That's not really what I want to call him, but whatevs. Rise above it right. Yeah, that's what I should've done. What I did do was go hunting for more reviews, still convinced that this guy was a hapless douche and my brilliance would shine through on something else I had written. Bollocks! The lady that reviewed the other stuff actually used the phrase, "the plot was terrible and horribly executed". Ass hat. I've been told by the hubs that all amazon.com reviews are shit, and that's what I'm going with now. Besides if I don't make it as a writer, I could have a very lucrative career making granola!
Hey, since you bring up granola, I made some groovy granola that I'm going to have with my almond milk tomorrow morning for breakfast. In case you didn't notice, I've become a bit of a hippie. But it's seriously great granola. Chocolate with chocolate chips and local honey. Mmm... And something funny happened to me on the way to eating dinner tonight. I freaked out all the hell over a bag of chicken breasts. All I could think of was that this used to be a living chicken. I was cutting up dead animal tissue. I was a mutilator. O.O It really wasn't as cool as Dexter made it seem.
And then it made me really sad. I was kinda flailing around like a freakshow, mumbling about chickens.
I'm not sure that's what my dad had in mind when he let his hippie-ness rub off on me. Though I was thinking today that he did kind of raise me to be a hipster.
Hysterical book, btw, if your dad still did things like wear waaaay cut off shorts and stuff. But he always had on some kind of groovy tunes. The first one I can remember is Arlo Guthrie.
"The Pause of Mr. Claus" by Arlo Guthrie
He starts by hassling the FBI, making very astute observations about society and then sings a song about Santa Claus being a Communist beatnik. Winning! I even discovered it on a basement expedition on a freaking 8-track, the only one left. You might say it was fate that lead me to this...
Oh, hey, I said Communist while talking in a round about fashion about my dad. There's a funny story about that. So my dad came to visit me on base. Like a military base, and we're getting his gate pass so he can come on base, and he looks at the cop guy behind the counter and goes, "I am not now, nor have I ever been a member of the Communist Party."
And hey, speaking of Communists, didja hear about how Vladimir Putin said stuff about peace and whatnot? Then people are all, "Dude is ex-KGB (as far as they know...), how peaceful is he really gonna be?" To this, folks I have the answer. He got it out of his system and now relies on his reputation. It's like me and this one poor gangly kid that used to work for the hubs. He was kind of terrified of me, it's only because I get the mother of all Napoleon Complexes when I drink. Regardless, I was never gonna beat him down or anything like that, but he knew if I felt the need, I'd probably just smack him. It's the same thing. I'm cool like Vladimir Putin.
Look at that, I covered my day, my dad, and even threw in current events. WHAT!
On this edition of A Hapless Foodventure, I'd like to talk to you about a subject near and dear to my heart and probably the brain tumor I'm gonna find out I have: Aspartame.
This is where the intro music goes. It's something between the NBC Now you know thingy and the PBS Masterpiece music.
So when I was in high school, for one of my small town snooty so not so snooty science classes, we had to write a paper, APA format, 6-8 pgs, double spaced, size 12 Times New Roman, on a controversial topic in science. First I thought about time travel, but it totally tripped me out, man. Then a friend suggested I investigate the topic of Chi Energy... I leaned over and gingerly rested my chin upon the molded plastic surrounding the most sacred of beverages and then it came to me, like a beacon in the night. I would write my paper on the Aspartame that sweetened the Diet Coke I already drank with frightening frequency.
My science teacher was actually impressed by my not memorable essay proclaiming the dangers of Aspartame from it's weird combinations of Amino Acids, to it's forming formaldehyde. She commented though that it made her think twice about giving her kids Crystal Light all the time. Not enough to stop poisoning them with yummy fruit flavors, but she thought about it. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but it's the thought that counts.
I was thinking though, I haven't heard much about Crystal Light in the past few years. Aside from their weird commercials with women dancing with scarves or something that happened to coincide with the rising popularity of the Mio liquid water flavor enhancer thingy. I'll admit, sometimes water is boring. Nothing but two Hydrogens mushed to an Oxygen held together by a weak nuclear force or something laced with chemicals to make it more palatable. Kinda boring right? But you throw some burst of flavor and color into that and suddenly...
And the part that nobody seems to notice or care about is that there's Aspartame in Mio, too. It's not healthy. It's not a good food option. Really, it probably has no "food" in it. It has a chemical sweetner to start out with, and a weird color. And don't let them fool you with "natural colors", they're just the ones they put in a corn base. But that's not what we're talking about here. What I'm talking about is how I've been totally duped! Duped, I say! Into thinking that drinking Diet Coke will keep me slim and svelte like the logo, didja notice??? But really, it freaks out your system making it think it's getting sugar and therefore energy but it's not so it's like WTF and stuff. On top that, the part that plagues me most is that it can give you headaches, anxiety, depressed feelings, a bad attitude, and a brain tumor.
So my Diet Coke induced anxiety and headaches that are probably precursors to the brain tumor pushing on my be nice and tolerant to children I didn't birth gland are going to part ways... I hope.
Today, I'd like to address a fact of my life that is glaringly apparent. I'm a chunky monkey.
That being said, I also feel like cat dirt most of the time and my ... times of the month... are a bear. Not the cute little Coca-Cola polar bear from my youth, like a ravenous, man eating, blood thirsty grizzly bear. So I was thinking... Self, do you suppose that perhaps, eating all this chemically derived shit posing as food has something to do with the fact that you're fat and losing your marbles? Why yes, Self, I think that may be the ticket. And so here we are... stuck between a Tastycake and a hamburger.
I have a friend who recently did this whole 30 thing where you like only eat whole foods but no dairy, gluten, or sugar. It worked out well for her so I thought, what the hay, hey! Then I went, waitaminute, Self, What are we doing? And Self, who was moderately freaking out, replied, I DUNNO MAN, I DUNNO. I'M FREAKIN OUT MAN, I DON'T THINK I CAN DO THIS BRO. THIS IS A BAD IDEA... And so here were are again. Twinkies and potato chips
But this time, I thought, Self, you can't just sit on your fat arse and do nothing, and clearly the post-it note you put on the fridge ordering you to "Walk Away Fatty" hasn't helped, so you should take a step. So I've decided to cold turkey quit Diet Coke. ZOMG!!! I'm pretty sure I'm gonna go into convulsions any time now, and I may or may not have been disowned by my othermother. It seems to be my nicotine. I quit, then I fall off the wagon, then I quit, then I swan dive off the wagon into a Coca-Cola factory and drown in the stuff. But this time is different... Yeah... Different.
I used to be a vegetarian/vegan. It started out well enough, but did you know that French fries and Diet Coke are vegan? I did... So I consumed. If there is a stereotypical example of the American plagued by junk food, even though she knows way better, it is me. I am that example.
So here I am, stuck in the middle of sweet tea and some spaghetti. That's burning right now.
