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Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Retina A + hormones + a sprinkle of L. Frank Baum = saga of Wicked Witch

So the last week has been brutal and I am beginning to think the universe has it out for me....Seriously I leave my house everyday wondering if a house will fall on top of me....Which would be a terribly fitting end to the person I am....only instead of glittery red heels I rock some awesome ass hot pink pumps.

I have gone mental and not in a cool biopic tortured novelist kind of way....I seem to be crushing from the weight of the world right now and its all I can do from keeping the seams from splitting and everything to come out in a horrible gush of random discombobulated thoughts and feelings....

From my writer's block to the nagging itch of creative consciousness that is spewing out ideas that I have neither the patience nor budget to keep up with....from personal goals of unattainable svelte figures and small business to paintings to photos to stories with no endings or proper character development to aching longing of a life I never realized further complicated by the one I so vehemently denied and the one I fill space in now. 

If that isn't enough to send someone into a catatonic state or at the least render you stupid then you all have more will power than I have that is for sure. Fact is I want more than anything to find a job that pays the bills well enough to afford me the time to write and not just for pleasure or diarying my pathetic life out because it makes me comforted by the thought that its out there. Let's face it. I do this solely now to feel as if I exist, to know someone is listening, to know that someone somewhere cares. And I want more. I want to have people listen to my words and HEAR them with their minds and souls. I want someone out there to have a visceral reaction. I want someone out there to validate my self worth my letting me know how truly righteously creative a mind I have. I don't want to fade away as some half ass hack who had a ounce of talent and squandered it on a lifeless ordinary. 

But then it makes me a right bitch and cunt to think for one second the life I am living is anything less. Its more than ordinary and if it wasn't I wouldn't be writing this now because I would be too mundane too stupid too fucking ignorant to see the difference.

I guess today this blog is going to be a little meglomaniacish and completely egocentric because I am in that type of mood. The fruit of my womb seem to be doing a OK, so its mommy's turn to have a moment. The kind of moment where I need to have a complete rant or reminisce about things.

I could try and lie and say its needed self reflection, but I don't know exactly what it is I want to reflect on, so let's just take a trip in a time machine and see where it leads us.

All the way back to 1996-the year my parents divorce was final and 2 years following my cousin's suicide.

So let's start out by discussing a pimply greasy faced 7th grader with hunched shoulders trying so desperately to escape the shit life at home and the taunting of blonde, skinny self righteous bitches at school.  Who deep down hoped, prayed, cried for a life so much better than the one she thought she was living.  Now this girl befriended another girl who suffered from the same bullshit junior high politics and together they found solace in knowing that someday they would have the last laugh.   That someday the tables would turn and their clothes wouldn't end up getting stolen during gym class or their bra straps snapped as they sit in class.   Two years of a slow hell was speckled with the most amazingly funny moments, sleepovers, roamings of our local mall and then they were thrust into high school. For one tiny nanosecond there was hope at the end of the tunnel because everyone was an incoming freshman that they were ALL fresh meat, but alas it slowly darkened when they realized it was even worse when you had older more schooled predators with more vicious antics.  Maybe this is an exaggeration, but not too far off.  With high school came new teachers, new pressures, new faces and new humiliation. In the form of that one unrequited crush who with a straight face informs her she should stick to dating people of her own social class. Stick to dating people on her level. And in her mind this equated her fat ass and she set out to starve herself down to a zero only to be rebuffed yet again.  Then the girl's heart was truly broken when the time came for the second girl to move clear across the country, and an aching hole was left in the young girl's heart, and it took everything she had not to burn the whole fucking school down. 

Instead she chose to harden her heart, and rip it straight out of her chest, leaving a gaping hole that no one, nothing could fill, and she liked it that way. The freedom to be void of feeling, to be void of anything because it was easier than having the responsibility of giving a shit to only be knocked down over and over. To be disappointed, to be ashamed of everything she wasn't and horrified by everything she was.  Well, that was way too much heavy shit to lift, so she stuck to coasting through school, and getting the endless stream of criticism from counselors and AP teachers, all the while becoming a human garbage disposal for anything she could get her hands on in the way of drugs. She lingered long enough to make her presence forgettable and then due to a number of bad choices stemming from a number of bad days she ended up graduating without her peers in a school a 100 miles away in a city where no one knew her name. And the funniest part is that stupid bitch two days after graduation packed her car and hightailed it back to the same town she wanted to drop a nuclear bomb on. And so it was the rest is history.

Well that was well over 16 years ago when this tale started, and that pimply faced greasy 7th grader is still trapped in my fucking mind. She still lingers inside gnawing away at my innards for lunch, squirming and wondering if she is ever good enough. I feel it every time I look in the mirror, every time I pinch the fat on my thighs, every time I look at my kids and wonder if I am doing everything I can to be a good mom. With every word that comes out of my mouth I cannot snatch back and every word I write on paper, bleeding through, wondering it its ever enough.

And then I slap that silly little whiny cunt back into check because who doesn't feel the same way? Or at the very least who remembers and holds onto that shit? What about that boy all those years ago who looked down his nose at her? Does he even know who the fuck she is now? Probably not. And that girl who moved so far away is just a plane ride away, the one friend who held on so tightly, fiercely when all others slipped away. Something tells me she isn't dwelling on the past, and she is here because she wants the now, the present of what life has.

Why do you ask am I even worrying about this stuff? Well that little spoiled pathetic self loathing girl has reared her ugly head and is slowly trying to make her way this because I have had a horrible time at work lately with people who act like petty teenagers? Or is it because I am having a post 30 crisis and wondering what the hell happened to me that I worry what others think?

There is this saying that the age you first smoke pot at is the age you stay at. Thus your maturity level is indicative of your first attempt to regress or stunt this said maturity. That being said I should be a 17 year old perpetually-which I would give anything to fit into the jeans I did at 17.

lol. All joking aside, I think about this now because I wonder if this has something to do with my strange digression into memory lane, the paths twisting and turning, but never crossing. I am not blind to the fact I have so much to be thankful for. And the list will never stop, but sometimes its surreal,  words that get lost in an echo down some far off hallway, trying to explain, stumbling, and bumbling how I wish I knew what I was. that I wish I knew where I was going and where I had been. I wish I knew what the world had in store for me beyond this.

I know one thing is for sure. I have been trying my damnedest to find out these last few weeks. And all I can equate myself to is some bitch who carried a broom, and got her life snuffed out by some perky breasted chick with a lapdog and no GPS. And she stole my damn shoes as well. And still had 3 dudes following her around everywhere she went.

High school all over again.

Friday, June 8, 2012

Getting back in the swing of things...and not the black furry sex toy on back order....

I want to start out today's blog with a heartfelt apology because it has over 30 days since my last one and God knows I humor myself into thinking maybe some of you actually religiously check back to see if I post something and then are felled with disappointment because I haven't... If that isn't the case....well humor me anyway and allow me the delusion of an occult following. 

I mean how can I call this Rambling of an Ovary when said ovary has been silent....coincidence that I was over a week late and ovulated twice this month? Probably a little TMI but then something tells me the silence of my womb mirrors the silence of my mind....

That being said, its time for me to get back into the saddle and get my groove back, my mojo, if I ever had any...and I am talking about the charismatic and witty flow of my ingenius postings, comments, and otherwise spectacularly cool diatribes...I seem to have lost it in these recent weeks and I have stuck up those annoyingly grainy lost posters all over town to no here's to hoping it can make its way back to me.

I want to preface what is about to follow with a couple of things. A) I adore, love, would kill, maim and completely eviscerate those who harm my children, and would sail the 7 seas, walk at a fat girl pace through fire for them. B) regardless of what I write, what I say, I am genuinely a kind person who absolutely craves, needs people to understand me and they cannot or choose not to and sometimes it because otherwise problematic especially in my professional life.

That being said Charlotte and I have had a somewhat rocky past few weeks....further disappointment from 1/2 of her DNA donor, followed by doctor's visits, and then a grueling Lemonade Day and she and I both need a vacation from the life that is ours......Like this mini vaca with fun mani/pedi and lots of girly giggling and cuddling and movie watching.....but then there is the fact we would have to come home at some point and that is the problem.

Sometimes I wonder if its not the geography of it, but rather the fact that I cannot change who I am and that seems to be a resounding echo in my personal and professional life as well as my head. Not in a crazy I hear voices, although I admit I sometimes talk to myself, but in a self degradation kind of way where I hate myself, loathe myself, and yet blow myself away sometimes with what I can do. Like I learn to set the bar low, so when and if I succeed I am able to relish in it even more.

Don't get me wrong, I have flaws, I am learning to accept those flaws, and now I am learning to even embrace them.See, I strive everyday to be the best mother I am able to be. That may not be gauged as the best mother to some or reach some marker that is set by textbook standards, but its my personal best, and I give it my 210%, I give it my all. And sometimes, just sometimes, it is grueling, backbreaking sweat work that leaves me simply drained....too drained to even keep my commitments to my family, my children, myself...I keep the ones to my job because its the bread and butter and we would starve otherwise.

So in a nut shell the past month saw Charlotte raise $384 for charity which she selflessly gave away to a homeless shelter and a homeless veterans saw Max putting sentences together....and repeating holy shit from his father. We know I am not the culprit because he hasn't said fuck....that being said he graduated out of ECI services and is doing better at school. I still have vowed not to cut his hair and it flows like golden hippy locks around his cute chubby face....and what a chub he has become....

Charlotte is away at her first week at church camp and loving from what I can see from the pictures online from camp.....she has gotten TONS of mail even from my father and she is going to make tons of can she not with such an infectiously sunny personality?!! She doesn't get it from me...She made it out of the 3rd grade with stellar grades, and is moving on the 4th and is a little nervous and yet stoked. As class parent I compiled a classroom cookbook that kicked ass! It rocked! I stole the idea from another mother and stripped it down to the basics to make it my own. Instead of fancy schmancy recipes I decided I would have each parent submit their favorite kids recipe. Totally worth it....despite some lazy ass parents who didn't give a shit it was awesome! And cute as all get out. Gloating aside, the teacher cried, the kids autographed it for her, and it will be a keepsake for the books for her. And me. Gave me a slew of ideas for family stuff and gifts...

So I took a vow of veganism for the summer and have been cheating...I hate to admit it, but my affair with cheese is getting our of control and I need to reign myself in and break it off.....I mean I am going to lose the last 20 lbs I want to, I am going to go back to feeling good and by God I miss that goddamn glow I had in lieu of this spotty, oily combo skin due to humidity and bad hair.

That being said, I have decided to burden my plate with yet another project....One I hope will skyrocket to the moon so I can quit my job....which since i last left you has only become a tad more intolerable, but less detrimental to my mental health....due in a large part because I don't give a fuck.

So what is this new idea you ask? You didn't? Well-I am going to tell you anyway. I have begun using a ecological-vegan-cruelty free mineral makeup out of Oregon...heard about it on The Kind Life blog...tried it and loved it. Found something so amazing for my skin I could go on and on and on but I am not a least not if I don't get paid.  Anyway-I ran out and had to order more. Its fairly cheap in comparison to makeup counters and Sephora etc. but the shipping is what kills. So I Googled to find a store, boutique, anything with this line of makeup. NOTHING IN TEXAS. Can you believe that? Not even at Whole Foods Market where they'd jack the price up even more and steal my wallet and pension at the same time.  Nope. Not even commericalized hippy hell has it.

So I started brainstorming and thinking and researching. I have not been able to find a "green" makeup store that carries facial products and bath products and different lines of makeup.   I thought even further and got to thinking I could carry hemp clothing or eco friendly hand crafted fair trade clothing along with conflict free artisan jewelry....long story short, the Green Man's Daughter is born. And if any of you fucking jack that name before I register it I swear to the gods I will hunt you down and kill you. Maim you. Poke your eyeballs out. and maybe even gut you.

On top of all this stuff the most exciting personal tidbit I left out....I am going to get to interview and write a piece for the second issue of Act Badd!!!!!!!!!! Totally stoked...something about seeing your name in print is so glorifying and ego stroking.....def beats a good piece of chocolate cake and sex.....ok, so maybe not the cake, but close!

I know this was short, but I will do more later....I PROMISE, I SWEAR-I have mom's been bugging me about it because she doesn't have shit to read in the car in the morning....(and obviously she isn't doing the driving if you all just read that and had a panic attack looking for some woman in Guatemalan pants in the EZ tag lane, Kindle in hand, eyes diverted....)

I leave you with a fortune cookie I found in the bottom of my purse on a day I especially needed this mass produced with lotto numbers included affirmation: