Sunday, July 31, 2011

Sunday Sound-Off


I decided that, being the rampant narcissist I am, I'd do a weekly round-up of the best blog posts I've read, pretty pictures I've gazed at, and (for shits and giggles) the top things I was grateful for this week. Because I just know you're all dying to know this crap, right?!?  :D
 
 
Linkable:
  1. This tip from @foodlush on preventing moldy berries may just be my favourite (berry-inhaling-self's) thing I've ever learned in my entire 33 years. (Big thanks to @karensugarpants for pointing me in the right direction!)
  2. @ohjennymae stated exactly what my Self-Acceptance board on Pinterest is trying to counteract. As I stated in my comment on her post, it is NEVER okay to make ANY joke about ANYONE’S body - bodies are not a laughing matter, period.
  3. The ever-amazing @jettsuperior wrote an amazing post (seriously: if you're not reading her blog, you should be - she's a sorceress with words <3) about how wasteful we are with one another.
  4. @kekibird shared this really, well, relieving post from Whatever, Etc. about how none of the clothing celebrities wear is off-the-rack: EVERYTHING has been tailored to fit their body shapes. It's no wonder so many of us have struggled for so freaking long wondering what is "wrong" with our bodies for them to not fit in clothing. GRRR!
  5. And because I'm a) that asshole, and b) kinda proud of this post, go read my take on the hierarchy of blogging.
 Likeable:
  1. High praise for a job done well
  2. Purple shirts
  3. Getting contracts done with no errors/reprints
  4. Not worrying about things outside of my control
  5. Freshly painted toes in OPI's Pamplona Purple:  
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Thursday, July 28, 2011

This Is Why I Love You: Reason #49



#49:  You rub Icy Hot on my back with no complaints, even though it leaves us both smelling like Pep-O-Mint Lifesavers.

P.S. Now I want Pep-O-Mint Lifesavers. Make a note, m'kay?



Explanation Pin It

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

The hierarchy of blogging

 Please to be noting that this is not written with any specific person(s) in mind: it's my asspinion of an overall impression I've gotten of Cyberia (head-bob to @jettsuperior for that term) for a long, long time. And since the shingle outside my door states this is my little corner of the universe, I'm entitled to my asspinion in this space. In turn, you're entitled to completely disregard it and close said door.



I've spent my morning skimming over the latest innertubez dust-up and thoroughly reading some freaking amazing posts that, if not directly in response, certainly seem to fit the situation. Now, lest anyone think I'm trying to link bait or ride on coat tails, I'm not going to link back to those posts (however, if you are friends with me on facebook, twitter, stumbleupon, or digg, I'm sure you can figure it out cuz you're all smart like that). There have been accusations of big bloggers vs. little bloggers, who is "A-list" and who isn't, and shocked "How DAAAAAARE yous!" when a small-time blogger has the *cough*balls*cough* to speak to someone in a higher rank. I... *heavy sigh* Yeah.

I haven't been involved in the whole blogging/twitter scene for very long (three years, I think?), but I've been heavily involved in all things interwebby for over ten years - I'm not a newb (but SO WHAT if I was? Didn't we ALL start out that way at some point or other, for the love of Pete?). However, there seems to be a completely different set of internet politics when it come to blogging and twitter: holier-than-thou, self-righteous indignation flows through nooks and crannies, soaking everything in pissed offedness and hurt feelings on either side of the line drawn in the sand.

Reading all these things about "who does he think he is, posting that THERE?" is forcing me to recall my own entry into the twitter/blogosphere. Now, I did have the benefit of message board culture and knew that it's best to test the waters before jumping in feet first (although a lot of people will tell you to completely forget that line of thinking and do a fucking cannon ball into the pool); I just didn't know that this rule was somehow amplified with bloggers. I'm sitting here torn between cringing at the thought of some of the "popular kids" rolling their eyes at my pathetic @ attempts and saying who the fuck cares.

Three years later, I still don't understand what, exactly, makes someone an A-list blogger. Is it who you know? Where you write? The number blog/twitter/facebook fans you have? The traffic you get? The money you make? To me, that boils right back down to "the little people": much like a singer or an actor or a best-selling author, you very well might have the talent to make it big, but would you have gotten to where you are - or been able to stay on top - without the small-potatoes fans? And how the hell is someone who just happened to accidentally stumble across your blog, stuck around to read it enough to grow to like you/your content/your writing style, and *gasp!* found it acceptable to "talk" to you supposed to know that they're not supposed to look the Emporer in the eye until they've reached 4,000 blog hits and 300 twitter followers? I don't know about you, but I'm still waiting on my Blogging Hierarchy Flowchart, yo.


All I know is that if I ever got so freaking popular (HAAAAA) I was all "WHO does s/he think s/he is, talking to me?!? *sneer*" I'd be pretty disappointed with and disgusted by myself. (I kinda want to be all "Check yo'self before you wreck yo'self," but I don't know if I can pull it off... *grin*) As I've said all over the place for years - inside the computer and outside - it's about the Golden Rule, kiddies: treat people as you would like to be treated. It's really not rocket surgery.

And I swear to Ceiling Cat, if I hear/see/read one comment intimating that I'm "jus' jelus," I'll stick my jealous foot up someone's ass.

Kidding.

Mostly.


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Monday, July 25, 2011

Broken resolutions

No, I'm not talking about the ones I made earlier this year (although I could be... *side eye*).

I've been working through Rosie Molinary's book "Beautiful You: A Daily Guide to Radical Self-Acceptance," which consists of 365 simple exercises to help us to accept ourselves as we are.

A couple of weeks ago, the exercise was to ask a loved one to make a resolution for you, the thought being that a loved one may see something you don't (or will focus on something more important than doing 100 sit-ups before bed).

Chebbar took a moment to consider my request, but wasted no time in issuing his edict: "I will not be so hard on myself." It took maybe an hour of my jackassery (read: "joking" that is barely above self-degradation (NOT to be confused with self-deprecation! I honestly didn't realize they were two different things until recently - I thought my nasty-ass self-talk was self-deprecation: I've long operated under the assumption that if I crack the joke about myself first, YOU can't...)) before he amended my resolution to "I will not be so hard on myself AND I will love myself." Oof.

Because of my penchant for being a First Class, Grade-A Asshole to myself - and out loud, so EVERYONE has to hear it, no less - I was understandably daunted by this two-pronged resolution. I tried to figure out how to do these two things that have been a foreign concept to me for 33 years: I figured I'd just stop saying it... out loud.

Last night, during a conversation I will not repeat due to its personal nature *cough*it may have been sex-related*cough*, Chebbar got (understandably) frustrated as I did my usual Chibi-put-down dance. He accused me (and rightly so) of not even trying to stick to his resolution for me. I was completely taken aback - not because of his accusation, but because I had completely forgotten the exercise and subsequent conversation. Ouch. It was not a proud moment for me to admit that to him.

I think it was so easy for me to forget because I didn't take it seriously. I think I didn't take it seriously because a) the self-degradation is something I've done for so long, it's become a part of my identity, and b) deep down, I doubt my ability to stop beating the ever-loving hell out of my perfectionist self every time I "fail." I apologized and promised I would try harder; he told me that he wasn't the person I needed to be apologizing or making promises to.

I am going to work on it, though, starting with a visual reminder:


I've written across the top of every page this week. I'll keep doing it until I don't need the reminder.

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Sunday, July 24, 2011

Sunday Sound-Off

I decided that, being the rampant narcissist I am, I'd do a weekly round-up of the best blog posts I've read, pretty pictures I've gazed at, and (for shits and giggles) the top things I was grateful for this week. Because I just know you're all dying to know this crap, right?!?  :D
 
 
 Links I Loved
  1. The Awakening (via Body Peace) is so freaking powerful, I want to print it out and plaster it EVERYWHERE I might possibly glance - this is seriously a must-read, folks.
  2. This made me laugh far more than I should probably admit. No, I wasn't high: shut up. (via @weknowawesome)
  3. @amazinggreis writes about her weight loss surgery journey on Curvy Girl Guide - she's inspiring, yo!
  4. We explore the break-down of pop vs. soda. vs. Coke on We Know Awesome. For the record? It's NEV.ER just "Coke." That's like calling all TV's Sonys, all vehicles Fords, and all people Bob fer cryin' out loud!
  5. Love this picture via Internal Acceptance Movement:


Gladly Grateful:
  1. James Vincent McMorrow's music - LOVE!
  2. Clean sheets
  3. Pretty new notebooks
  4. Keeping a promise to myself
  5. Strawberry milkshakes and aimless drives on sunny days


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Friday, July 22, 2011

UPDATED: The grandmonster rides at dawn!

My poor mom called me not 15 minutes after I got to work this morning. Mom calling me at work is almost NEVER good news - last time she called at work was to tell me Gramps was in the hospital.This morning wasn't much different. She'd gone outside to have a smoke (I know, I know: so does she), and when she went back into the house, there was a message on the machine from Grandmonster (who I think I'm going to have to start referring to by her name (Bev), because since letting go and moving on, calling her "Grandmonster" feels very petty and childish).

To break in with some back-story, my aunt and her daughter wasted no time in each asking Bev for a "deal" on Gramps's still-pretty-damned-new truck. From what we've heard from Nick and Taylor, there is already infighting over money (which is patently ridiculous considering Bev would be the beneficiary of Gramps's will as the surviving spouse - my money-grubbing relatives need to just cool their god damned greedy jets, for the love of Pete). Mom, being the good person she is, told Taylor to let Bev know that if she needs help determining a FAIR price (for her) to ask for the truck, Brad would help her out.

We probably all should have expected that this would be seen as an "in" with Mom: Bev has wasted NO opportunity, from my great aunt's funeral, to Nick's hospital stay, to Gramps being in the hospital.

The gist of the message was that she needs Mom in her life and misses her terribly and feels like she's already lost one family member - she doesn't want to lose two. She also made a comment about how what happened at the hospital was "bad," but that she would be the bigger person and forgive and forget.

*deeeeep, calming breath*

First off, the whole she would be the bigger person and forgive and forget thing? Excuse me? She and Donna were on the attack the second they left their chairs as we approached, even though they knew we were on our way because THEY asked we be contacted. Secondly, as Mom pointed out, Bev's technically lost three family members - she made no mention of me, though. As I said to Mom, they've ALWAYS seen me as a no-mind, brainless idiot with no opinion of her own who will just follow blindly along with whatever Mom does. Too bad they have no IDEA who I am and don't realize how untrue that is. According to Mom, it doesn't matter: if it were to come down to choosing between Bev and me, she said that her and I are more of a "package deal" than anyone realizes - it's not like she's going to go to Bev's house for Christmas dinner while Chebbar and I are "home alone."

Mom's a mess. She has no clue how to handle this situation. She feels for Bev - making that phone call must have been scary as hell - but she so doesn't want to get involved in this situation again where she's used and abused (and it really is an abusive relationship). At the same time, she has no idea how to tell the woman who gave birth to her who just lost her husband that she has no interest in having a relationship with her - even after all these years and so much abuse, she doesn't want to intentionally hurt the woman. Never mind the fact that regardless of what Mom does end up saying, Bev will twist it to suit her purposes.

I have no idea what to tell her: it seems very much to be a damned if she does, damned if she doesn't situation - there's no win for anyone here. Grah.

Update: Mom had apparently decided to give Bev one more chance. She was half way down the stairs before she realized how ill she felt and asked herself what she was doing. Right then and there she decided she didn't want to ["fucking," heh] do it, and called her instead. The call went okay - Bev was polite. Mom told her she didn't think a visit was a good idea and Bev told her that she would "always" be there for her (like she has been for the past 11 years?). So, yeah. No toxins re-entering our family! Pin It

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Tired and uninspired

I have a bee in my bonnet. A bug up my ass. Someone peed in my Corn Flakes. I got up on the wrong side of the bed.

Yesterday involved really low self-esteem. I felt fat and frumpy. Gross. Sad. Tired. Pathetic. I *knew* the best way to combat those feelings was through a workout and treating my body with kindness; I chose to do neither.

This morning, I woke up tired. Sore. Achy. So damned fed up with this constant, nagging back pain.

I'm cranky. Sad. Moody. Miserable. Apathetic. Maybe a little depressed (even though it scares me to say that out loud). Touchy. Quick to take things the wrong way. Don't know why: just am. Don't like it: just don't particularly care to do anything to defunkify myself right this very second. Could be the grey "summer" weather. Who knows?

Emotional eating started last night with an ice cream cone, and continued this morning with an iced capp and some dark chocolate. Aside from tasting great, none of those things did anything to improve my perspective after they were finished.

I'm playing the role of Eeyore today, right down to the grey clothing. Waah, waah, waah, right?


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Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Growing pains




This is the post that Studio Thirty Plus published yesterday...

I'm going through some kind of... change. A metamorphosis, if you will, that finds me feeling cramped and stretching to test my outer limits all at the same time. I've lived a lot of my life hating who I am - how I look, how I think, I how I feel. Recently I decided that I was done, that I'd had enough of being angry and embarrassed, ashamed and terrified, all the damned time. Fearful of growth, of my own potential, but mostly of failure.

It's so much easier to be angry than to be scared or hurt. I didn't realize I was using anger as such a crutch until two months ago. It's easier, but damned if it doesn't eat you up inside. It's a lot of work to be angry. You let a lot things suffer just so you can continue to stoke the flames of ire. It takes a lot out of you to harden your heart and maintain that wall, shutting out the source of your pain along with a lot of other enjoyable things (or worse: people).

So, yes. Change. Time to get with the program. Stop hating myself. Stop hating those that hurt me. Stop worrying and stressing and trying so god damned hard to be enough. I started on that stereotypical "journey" to try to learn how to forgive, to love myself, to make peace with the world around me. I'm making progress - not in leaps and bounds, but in inches and baby steps, and I'm okay with that. Even these tiny changes and realizations leave tender spots of realization of just how much damage and pain I've caused myself for so long.

There are so many things I want to see and do and try - secret desires that I'm petrified to even voice lest someone mock me or I end up failing - that I get completely overwhelmed by all the possibilities before me and the sheer enormity of it all and just... stop. Give up. Quit before I even start. I end up paralyzed, mostly by that fear of failure (rampant perfectionism, anyone?). I want to be able to push myself out of my safe, little, boring bubble and just do something already, but it's so much easier to remain stagnant. I can't fail if I never try, right?

What a sad way to live.
.
.
.
.
.
.






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Sunday, July 17, 2011

Sunday Sound-Off

I decided that, being the rampant narcissist I am, I'd do a weekly round-up of the best blog posts I've read, pretty pictures I've gazed at, and (for shits and giggles) the top things I was grateful for this week. Because I just know you're all dying to know this crap, right?!?  :D
Linkalicious!
1. @michonblog wrote an amazing letter tonight: Dear God
2. A heart-wrenchingly honest post about adoption by @barbsobel
3. @karensugarpants's post about her son's diagnosis of Kawasaki's Disease made me cry
5. And some eye candy to round out your weekend from @weknowawesome:


Gratefulicious!
1. Sparkly new sunglasses (with RHINESTONES, bitches!) 
2. M & Ms
3. A great book
4. Abandoning a not-so-great book with no guilt
5. Great deals

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Thursday, July 14, 2011

Challenge: An Exercise in Self-Acceptance

My friend Lynda (with a Y!) from Taking Less Space threw down and challenged her readers to do the self-acceptance exercise (as issued to her by Christie from He Took MY Last Name) she completed on her blog. I had commented saying I was going to give it a shot; she *ahem* gently reminded me on Twitter that she hadn't seen my post yet (I'm thinking I should hire Lynda to be my personal trainer... ), so I'm giving it my best shot!

Per Christie, "Think about how your best friend would compliment your best features. I want you to think of five great things about your body. FIVE. And no Christmas-tree ornaments/negative riders on this. Five 100% HONEST, POSITIVE things you love about yourself."

*gulp* Christie's tough! O_O

1. I have pretty awesome green eyes
2. My smile is nice, and I use it often and easily
3. My rack is attention-worthy (hehe)
4. I have strong, yet soft arms that are great at giving comforting hugs
5. I have cute, little feet

Lynda also wrote about five non-physical traits for extra credit; as a fellow over-achiever, I'm game...

1. I am very empathetic
2. I am fiercely loyal
3. I love easily
4. I am a good listener/person/friend
5. I have a goofy sense of humour

The rest of Christie's challenge involved choosing five non-physical things to change to feel better about ourselves (like reading one more chapter of a book per day, or taking an extra ten minutes in the shower):

1. Take care of my back
2. Practice mindfulness and self-compassion
3. Start meditating on a regular basis
4. Keep trying yoga: I *know* I can do it, and I *know* I'll enjoy it - I just need to stick with it and cut my perfectionist-self some damned slack already
5. Get creative (yes, including that secret desire I haven't breathed a word about out loud because it scares me)

I DID IT, LYNDA! So, who's next? ;)



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Wednesday, July 13, 2011

How do you help someone who doesn't want to be helped?

I know, I know: you CAN'T. It just goes against every fiber of my must-fix-ALLLLLTHETHIIIIINGS!-being to throw my hands up in defeat: trying to fix things is one of the ways I show love (which is kinda screwy, but there it is).

I was talking to a friend last night on the phone: what was meant to be a quick call with a simple question turned into 2.5 hours of her talking about how unhappy she is, how much she hates her life, how disappointed she is in... everything. She started asking me questions about my antidepressants - how long did it take for them to start working, DID they start working, what difference did they make, etc. (I don't think she realizes that, not only am I still on them, but Dr. GP issued a prescription refill for another nine months, which will put me at a year and a half on them (which is... weird for me to wrap my head around)).

I answered her questions the best I could, interjecting with snippets of the conversations I've had with Dr. GP. At that point, she burst in to say that she doesn't even feel like "bothering" with her doctor because he's SO hands-off: he doesn't ask questions, he doesn't explain things - hell, he doesn't even use a stethoscope when she complains of chest pains, just writes another bloody prescription. I got a little tough with her at that point and told her that it's up to her to be her own advocate (thanks again to @beautifulwreck2 for that extremely helpful kick in the pants <3), because no one else can (or will) do it for her. More excuses.

She talked about how she feels like her whole life has been a waste and how she feels like such a failure. When I chimed in to commiserate, she told me that my perfection issues and low self-esteem aren't "as bad" as hers, while saying in the next breath that "it's not a competition." Oooookaaaaay... O_O

To be completely honest, I don't think she wants help or a solution: this is the same refrain I've been hearing for years - her life "sucks" and she "hates" it, yet she's not willing to do anything to fix or change things. When I make suggestions, they're shot down with comments of "that's not going to change anything." To be even more honest, I have a (guilt-inducing) feeling that she... well, not likes having something to complain about, but really identifies herself by her problems and is likely afraid of what life would look like if she did make positive changes. At the same time, I feel slightly judged (and sometimes ridiculed) by her reactions to the things I've tried or done to improve myself and my outlook on life; while I know that I'm the only one who can control how I react to someone, it still makes it hard to continue wanting/trying to help when I'm feeling embarrassed by my dippy-hippie exploits.

It's hard and frustrating and emotionally draining. It makes me question myself and my issues and the work I've done. However, no, I can't just wash my hands of this "friend" - it's not that easy. But then, stuff like this never really is that easy, is it? Pin It

Monday, July 11, 2011

Great Grandpa's Chair

Awhile back, I was scrolling through Instagram and came across a picture by @studio816 of a rocking chair at an airport.  I commented that I don't sit in my rocking chair enough...

When I was 18-ish, my beloved great grandparents moved from their retirement condo to an old folks' home.  They had two adjoining rooms: one was their shared bedroom and the other was used as a sitting room for visitors.  Because they had to downsize so much, they started giving back gifts they were given over the years, and so on (which I thought was weird at the time, but it's kind of cool now to have things I'd given them).  I was still sleeping in the twin-size daybed I'd had since I was 12, so I was super-excited to receive the 3/4 bed from their guest room. 

I was also given my Great Grandpa's well-loved rocking chair.  That chair was GRANDPA'S chair and everyone knew it; he sat in it every night after dinner to watch the news on CBC (the only channel they got, because they didn't have cable - hell, I'm not even sure they knew about cable).  He'd had it so long, the material had been recovered at least once.  He would sit, distractedly rubbing at the decorative wooden facings on the arms of the chair.  Over the years, he rubbed the finish right off.  He loved that chair.

It moved into my bedroom in the old house; even though I also had a hide-a-bed couch in my room, I always sat in Great Grandpa's chair.  When we moved into the new house and I stayed in the teeny, tiny den until my bedroom was built, I was heartbroken that the chair didn't fit; it didn't take me long to start moving things around, determined to find some way to CRAM Great Grandpa's chair in the room.  It ended up between the foot of my bed and my TV, up against the window, facing the opposite wall; it was impossible to watch TV from it comfortably, but I still sat in Great Grandpa's chair.  When my bedroom was finished, I sat in Grandpa's chair every night with my laptop perched on my knees.

It moved into my first home with my admonishments to "Be careful!  That's Great Grandpa's chair!"  It took point of pride in the little corner of my living room, set back out of the way, protected by the L-shaped walls of the kitchen and hallway.  Every time company comes over, I hope that I am somehow able to be the one who sits in the chair because I'm so worried about someone being "too rough" with the chair.  When I can't, I watch like a hawk, holding my breath, hoping I don't have to tell someone to be gentle or not rock so hard.  (I was worried enough about it after my very first guests that I tried to figure out if I could fit it in my bedroom: sadly, it was too wide for the door frame and I didn't have the tools to take the door off its hinges (nor the strength to muscle it through the door).)

I don't sit in it very often anymore.  Somehow I've come to view it as an ornament, something decorative, but not special enough to catch my attention on a regular basis.  That makes me sad.  It's a comfortable chair that is easy to rock; if you rock just so, it gives a very pleasing creaking sound.  If I bury my nose in it, it still smells like my Great Grandpa.

I need to spend more time in Great Grandpa's chair. Pin It

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Sunday Sound-Off

I decided that, being the rampant narcissist I am, I'd do a weekly round-up of the best blog posts I've read, pretty pictures I've gazed at, and (for shits and giggles) the top things I was grateful for this week. Because I just know you're all dying to know this crap, right?!?  :D

Schtuff I Shared

1. 3 Body Image Myths by  Margarita Tartakovsky at Weightless

2. I'm SO bad about spinning yarns: are you?


4. The Demoiselles share an amazing video regarding advertising's objectification of women - definitely worth the 5 minutes...

5. If you're not reading Daydreaming Fool's blog (or following her on twitter), you're seriously missing out: girlfriend is FUNNY.



Grateful Grazing
1. Costco bills under $100 (a freaking MIRACLE)
2. Brownies and whipped cream
3. Same-day chiro appointments
4. Baby steps
5. Midol

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Saturday, July 9, 2011

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Where I'm From



I am from small towns and churches and farmland.

I am from cornfields that stretch on forever; from sniffing Great Grandma's flowers; from cold water and warm earth and muddy toes dug into Great Grandpa's vegetable garden.

I am from an even smaller, back-woods town, from logging and hard times, from alcohol and apple pie.

From the bonny hills of Scotland, from porridge and scones and scotch and tea time.

I am from many moves, many times, many homes, many schools, many fresh starts that felt stale and awkward and uncomfortable and lonely.

I am from Dairy Queen ice cream birthday cakes and unspoken love.

From 97% scores on math tests, "Where's the other 3%?" and never being enough.

I am from stubbornness and grudge-holding, from being mad so long, anger loses all meaning and transgressions are forgotten, but rifts remain.

I am from a long line of child abuse that ended a generation ago and statutory rape and teen pregnancy.

From "you're the oldest: you should know better" and "set an example" and "go to your room"; from yelling and silent treatment, but never hitting.

I am from swinging my feet while church members sang, looking around at women's hats, not comprehending what I was witnessing.

I am from photo albums dusty from lack of attention, of carefully written descriptors long forgotten, of faces no longer recognized.




I've read a few posts this week that use Fred First Floyd's form prompt and really enjoyed them. If you would like to do the same, link up on Schmutzie's blog. Pin It

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

[enter witty title here]

  • I feel like I've lost my funny. I'm deep in this whole body-acceptance/self-compassion thing, so it's all I can think about, which makes it all I can think to write about, but I don't particularly want to be one-note (at least, not in a I-dedicate-my-blog-to kind of way right now). 
  • There are so many things I want to do and see and try that I get overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of it all and just... stop. I end up completely paralyzed (mostly by the fear of failure). As the wise @VickiLikesFrogs said, if I never start/try, I can't fail, right? But that just depresses me and makes me feel like MORE of a failure. *sigh* Life is tough, yo.
  • People are funny. And, yes I mean that in a totally sarcastic, passive-aggressive way (much like the people who talk about how "lame" passive-aggressive people are, like they're not being passive-aggressive themselves).
  • Also? If you tell me to do something ("Smile!" or "Cheer up!" or "Stop using LOLcat speak!") I'm almost guarandamnteed to turn into a surly teenager and do the exact opposite of what you demand just to be a contrary little asshole. #justsayin
  • Chebbar has some kind of weird... nose... herpes? (He suffers from cold sores.) On Sunday, he had one pus-filled... thing on his nostril that he thought was a zit, so he popped it. When he woke up Monday morning, he had a CLUSTER of little, tiny, pus-filled... things on the outside AND inside of his nostril; yesterday, that nostril was visibly swollen (he looks like he got very neatly punched on only one side of his nose). To top it off, the gland on that side of his neck is a little swollen and hard. I want him to go to the walk-in clinic like, um, THREE DAYS AGO, and he's all "*shrug* We'll see." GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
  • I finally lost my resolve to just keep scrolling and got into it with someone on Pinterst today - surprisingly, it was NOT a th1nsp0 (sorry: don't want ANY links back to my blog on that topic) post, either. In fact, I kinda gave someone shit for being all "Zoh Em Eff Gee! Kate Middleton is SO GROSS because she's too skinny!" I wish people would realize that it's not their place or business to pass judgement on how others look, regardless if said "other" is in the public eye or not - that person still has feelings, for crying out loud. When are we going to learn that bodies are not objects to be judged, FFS?  Again, GRAAAAAAAAAAAAH, I say.
  • I grabbed Chebbar's lunch by mistake this morning. This was not a good thing, and resulted in me having to make a run to Timmy Ho's. Which has nothing to do with anything, but mmmmicecapp.
  • In case you hadn't noticed *snort*, I'm combative and pissy today. You can thank Aunt Flo for that.
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Tuesday, July 5, 2011

SO WHAT?!?

So what if my body never gets smaller/tighter/better? Is that going to kill me?  No.
So what if my shape/weight stays the same? Is that going to be the end of the world?  No.
So what if I stay the same size? Does that keep me from finding nice clothes to wear?  No.
Does anyone who loves me love me less because of how I look?  No.
Should I love myself less because of how I look?  Hell no.
Should I concern myself with what strangers might think of me based purely on my looks?  Screw that!
Am I perfectly okay the way I am, right this very second?  Hell yes!

(The realizations are slow and happen in baby steps (and yes, Chebbar, usually after someone wiser and unbiased points it out first *wink*), but they're happening, and for that I'm grateful.)

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Monday, July 4, 2011

This is who I am

As part of a self-improvement exercise I did back around Christmas, I asked by friends and family to describe me in three (positive!) words. Not long after, I took inspiration from Operation Beautiful (sent to me by the lovely Princess Jenn after my "Ugly" post) and wrote myself notes of encouragement. As well, because I need the boost sometimes, I kinda sorta started keeping a list of compliments people paid me so that when I'm feeling particularly awful and being not-so-nice to myself, I can refer to said list to remind myself that other people think I'm kind of okay.

Today, after seeing a great idea for a teacher's gift, I decided to play with Wordle. This is who I am...


Kind of a nice, visual reminder.  :)
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Sunday, July 3, 2011

Sunday Sound-Off

I decided that, being the rampant narcissist I am, I'd do a weekly round-up of the best blog posts I've read, pretty pictures I've gazed at, and (for shits and giggles) the top things I was grateful for this week. Because I just know you're all dying to know this crap, right?!?  :D

1. To make you think, Insert Clever Marketing Slogan Here; Actually, Don’t, Because Bodies Are Not Products by The Rotund.


2. To make you laugh, "Featherpussy" via We Know Awesome (my home away from home):



3. To be philanthropic, how you can help Band Back Together, a site near and dear to my heart (aka my other home away from my other home).

4. To make you think, a quote from Og Mandino via Optimistic Minds:


5. To make you feel, "Dear You" by Julia Fehrenbacher via Kind Over Matter.


And now for the best/funniest/weirdest/most random crap from my daily gratitude journal over the past week:
1. Freshly-painted toes
2. Ice packs
3. A new box of Q-Tips (there's nothing quite like opening that lovely, orderly, all-lined-up-in-a-neat-and-tidy-row box of cotton swab stickamajigs) (and no, I'm NOT misusing them by sticking them in my ears) (please don't tell my mom) (or my doctor)
4. A good poop (sorry, but it's true and you know it)
5. Being included in things that are important to me


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Saturday, July 2, 2011

On gratitude

Once upon a time, I participated in Schmutzie's brilliant "Grace In Small Things." Originally, I started doing them here, but when she started the community, I moved over there. Unfortunately, things would come up that would make me feel less than grateful; I would struggle to come up with a list, fail to post, and then it would just become easier not to post. After my third or fourth months-long absence and trying to explain and apologize for said absence, I kinda slunk off with my tail between my legs (however, NOT because of any sort of disapproval or lack of support from the community members: they were always so welcoming and accepting - they're a fantastic group of people).

Part of it had to do with inadequacy issues on my part: I'd read these really phenomenal lists - either phenomenal things people were grateful for, or phenomenally written - and I'd feel really silly talking about a sunny day or a hot cup of tea. So, I did what I always do when I'm feeling less-than, and I withdrew, both into myself and from the community. I do regret leaving the community to a degree, simply because it really was a wonderful place to hang out; however, what I do now feels right because my gratitude journal feels very private and personal to me.

I have a daytimer that I no longer use for its intended purpose because I use Google Calendar, but I have this really lovely red, leather cover for it and I'm loathe to leave a book full of blank pages neglected and unused. What I started doing was writing anything and everything that was bothering me each morning; once I was done bitching and moaning, I would write five things I was grateful for to end the page. Once I was done writing, I'd close the book - the magnetic clasp would give a very final, satisfying SNAP, and I'd put the book away. Writing it out (see: hug it out) helped me, well, get it out of my system, and closing the book felt like a symbolic way to move past whatever my gripe(s) happened to be - I found it much easier to move on with my day in a lighter, more positive frame of mind.

I started doing this sometime in late 2009; I still do it on a daily basis, and I can't imagine stopping at this point, as I find it really helpful to me.

Do you have any sort of daily habit you use to practice gratitude, or to get the cranky out? Pin It
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