Feeling Guilty: Part the Third

Well, you know I'm going to say that I'm feeling guilty for neglecting this sweet, innocent blog of mine, so I'll have to divulge something else that's kind of eating away at me. There's a fella I've been flirting with a lot lately and I'm liking him a wee more than I should. Nothing has happened (sadly) and if we're both good, nothing will happen (very sadly), and I'm just getting really frustrated with the whole thing. I'm tired of wanting what I can't have, being able to look but not touch and having to look at his handsome face and not be allowed to kiss his very soft-looking lips. Poop. Let's see...other things I'm feeling guilty about...oh, I'm feeling guilty because I should be knitting my nephew's christmas present (Bobbi Intveld's Bobbi Bear...very cute), and all I really want to knit are socks for myself. Yeah, I'm selfish like that.

All I Want is Quiet

It's so loud here right now. It just seems like everyone is pissed off and screaming at each other and I'm just here typing, being ignored. I really wanted to get out of the house tonight, but it seems that I have no life whatsoever and the two people who I could've spent time with had better things to do. I should work on the socks I'm making for Christmas presents. Yeah, go in my room, shut my door and knit. The hermit's perfect night.

Feeling Guilty: Part the Second

Anxiety rules me right now. It sucks...big time. There's a lot of stuff going on in my head, and since I practically live there (my head, that is), it's consuming a lot of my time. I have a lot of weird feelings and thoughts and issues. Neurotic mess would be an accurate description. I don't know what exactly is going on or what will happen, but right now, I hate it. The guilt over feeling and thinking these weird thoughts is killing me. That's about as far as I'm going to go into it for now.

Forgotten

The other day, I forgot to shut my door to my room and the dogs decided to make it their little playland for a bit. When I got home there were bits of polyester stuffing for the bears I'm knitting for my nephews' christmas presents, some papers scattered about and a few balls of yarn here and there (aside from the ones that are always randomly littering my room with their yarny goodness). On the bed, I found the lace shawl I started knitting 2 years ago (I'm guessing at this because my memory of the time I bought the yarn for it is a little hazy). It's a circular shawl (based on Elizabeth Zimmerman's Pi shawl) and each round takes twenty to thirty minutes, as I've gotten to the point where there are 576 stitches on the needle. Since I've gotten to that number of stitches, my knitting discipline with this project has been very lax. I'd knit a round here, half a round there. It was not getting any bigger. Now, I've been thinking about the yarn (it's a silk/flax/nylon blend in a muted salmon color) and was planning on frogging the whole thing and making something comepletely different. Then I got to looking at it and remembering all the work I put into it, especially the section of solid eyelet done with a modified knit 2 together where the needle is inserted purlwise in the first stitch and knitwise in the second stitch, resulting in a nearly perfectly reversable fabric. I thought about the times I had to knit back, sometimes 2 whole rounds, because I was so afraid to take it off and rip back to the place I messed up (I was a fairly green knitter when I started it...I have a bit more experience under my belt now). It was painstaking work, hours of my life, and I felt pangs of guilt at the thought of ripping her off the needles. I just couldn't do it, so I finished the round that was started and knit another and part of another before I went to bed. The next day, I knit on it some more and I'm planning on finishing the shawl, maybe not soon, but some day. And who knows, maybe I'll have enough yarn left over for a different shawl, because it was a pound of thick and thin (or more acurately, thin and thinner) yarn that varies from fingering to lace weight. But that's another time. Right now I have people to see and stitches to knit, so until next time, toodles.

Honest About Being A Misanthrope

Yeah, I've decided I really don't like people...mostly just in general, but some in particular as well. I'm getting really tired of disrespectful assholes that seem to just materialize out of thin air. I hate a certain individual, who shall remain nameless, because he's really nasty to me half the time and the other half I just can't seem to do anything right in his opinion. As if I don't already have enough of an inferiority complex, this stuff makes it worse. Nitwits, all of them!

A Wee Bit Sad

Yeah, I'm a wee sad. The Crocodile Hunter died. Not that I was his biggest fan, but it's still kinda sad to me. He was a pretty neat guy, what with the love of nature and the animals and such. I'm gonna stop talking about it now.

Not Much To Say

What sucks about right now (besides the obvious things that always suck for most people) is that I haven't had a whole lot to say lately. And when I do find something to say, it's when I'm not in a position to write about it, usually at work or some other place where there isn't a computer for me to get my hands on. Poop!

I'm Still Somewhat Distraught

I had a lovely, lovely dream last night that I went to France. Yep, France. It was pretty normal at first. In my dream, I was on a tour of the countryside towns and ended up at a train station. I stepped into the restroom at said station and this is where it got weird. All the stalls were really narrow, as in maybe two and a half feet wide...just wide enough for the toilet and about an inch or two on either side. My hips are rather bodacious, so I was having issues maneuvering around in that teeny stall. Not to mention I had several bags with me, as I was a world traveler. So I'm going all around trying to get situated when I realized that I needed something and I couldn't get it. I yelled for my friend to come and it ended up being my long-time best friend (who, after being my friend for 22 years, has really elevated from friend to family), Penelope. That was strange in itself because I've never had a dream with Penelope appearing before. Weird. What was weirder was her yelling back at me to look in my damn bag because she knew what I needed was in there. She was kind of mean and while she's often very sarcastic, she's never been mean to me (not since we were 9 anyway). It made me sad and then, after I had managed to get squared away in the stall, I got all discombobulated again and couldn't figure it out. Later in the dream, I was at a snack machine and all I had were American dimes so I couldn't get yummy nibblies. It was a very strange dream.

My Ears Are Bleeding

I really hate that Clorox Bleach Pen commercial...you know, the one with Kelly Ripa and her awful, awful singing. That woman drives me nuts. I mean, I don't really understand the appeal of Ms. Ripa. She's obnoxious, only moderately attractive and can't act her way out of a paper bag. Every time I've seen her, she seems to make it a point to perpetuate the "dumb blonde" stereotype (or maybe she truly is a dumb blonde, in which case she needs to go learn something already). But enough is enough! Someone fire her and get her off the air...PLEASE!!!

Soup is Good Food

Doc will tell me that I need to put a different CD in my car stereo because I've been listening to the Dead Kennedys' Frankenchrist album too much. I can't help it, it's good fun for the whole family; that is if the family has a lot of contempt for the conservative socio-political culture of the mid-1980s. If not, I suppose it's less family fun and more Minxy-driving-to-work fun.

Speaking of work, I'm currently debating whether or not to go for this full-time position at my current place of employment. Sure, it would be more money and responsibility, and I'm very, very qualified for it, but I also fear rejection, especially if it's paired with being told that I'm not good or experienced enough for the position when I know full well that I am. Hence, the debate. Poop.

I just finished reading one of Dooce's recent posts, which linked to one of her posts at another site. They were about the rise and subsequent fall of Britney Spears. Dooce was brave and opened comments and I wrote a somewhat lengthy one right before this. Now, I have no interest in talking about Britney Spears' current life situation (since I did that already ad nauseum), but I do have a couple of things to say about my own comment. Sometimes, I'll re-read something I wrote and I'll think to myself: Did I just write that? Did I really just express that thought so well that I didn't even realize that it was in my head that way? Seriously, sometimes I amaze myself with my own words...in a good way, that is. Of course, there are more times where I amaze myself with the lack of coolness in my writing, kind of like now. I think I used up all my god writing on a site that's not even my own. Again, I say poop.

Feeling Guilty...

I feel so bad...I haven't had a whole lot to talk about on ye olde blog lately, so I've been leaving nothing here. Not that anyone but Bunny and Doc ever reads my words of non-wisdom, but still I feel like I'm letting my blog down. How freakin' bizarre is that? Guilt over not typing on something I'm not really required to type on...why do I feel guilty for this? I have no clue.

A State of Neglect

I've been such a bad little Minx, seeing as how I haven't blogged in weeks. Yikes! So sorry to my few readers. I've been working my regular job and trying to start up my Mary Kay job/business/thingy and I've been ridiculously stressed. It's sad when you end a vacation more tweaked than you started it. I'm doubtful that I'll be successful at anything I attempt to do. I'm a total failure at everything else in my life, I wonder sometimes if I'll ever get anything right. I also wonder why the hell I chose to do something so totally social as Mary Kay, because I'm a total introvert. Poop. Anyhoo, I'm just letting anyone who reads this know that I am, indeed, alive. Hopefully I'll be more frequent with posts in the future.

Crazy Folk

Sometimes, you see the weirdest things when you work in retail. Today at job #1, I saw a customer who was proudly wearing a trucker cap that proclaimed "it ain't gonna lick itself," which I found quite charming as I tried to understand him and he tried to hear me. I'm not entirely sure if he and his woman (or possibly mom, who knows...with the age difference was difficult to tell) were from around here. It was a colorful experience to say the least. Then, I saw the fairly pretty and decently put-together girl who had the mile long toenails. I think she was trying to be like Howard Hughes or something. It looked like she even had them filed to sharp lil points. Creepy. And finally, there was the old fella who said to me (after I asked him how he was doing) "everyone I can get my hands on and you're next." All I can guess is that he thought I asked "who" he was doing and not "how" he was doing. I tell ya, shit like this certainly keeps it interesting.

NOAH!!!!!!!!!

My sweet and wonderful nephew, oh how I love this little guy. He's such a happy little dude, too. He smiles like the picture much of the time (you know, when he's not crying because he's hungry...that boy can eat, let me tell ya). He and his brother and parents (and dog, hehehe) came for a visit over this past weekend and the minute he saw me, he remembered me with a smile and a giggle. We played the last time he was here (about 3 weekends), and I got him smiling and laughing so much and he remembered that. It made me so happy. Don't get me wrong, I love his big brother Anthony just as much, but Anthony doesn't get excited to see me like Noah does. Anthony is excited to see Papa and Omma (my mom and dad), and Noah is excited to see his Aunt Manda. They each have their people they get excited for. And that's ok. Speaking of Anthony, he does such cute things. He found my socks on the living room floor and picked them up and put them in his brother's diaper bag. He grabbed my sister's glass of water from the end table and drank from it like a big boy (the first time he'd ever done it) and took 2 good drinks before he drizzled some down the front of him. Everything he does is amazing and special. Everything that both of them do is amazing and special. I don't think I could've asked for better nephews.

Finally Spring!!

It's spring and I'm so glad it's finally here to stay!! No more winter...YAY!!!!!! Happy May 1st, everyone. Just a few more days, Jo, and you'll be 18!!!!!!!! I'm so happy for you!! I love spring!!

Eep!

Yeah, I'm going to be a Mary Kay lady. Yep, it's true. And it scares the hell out of me because I have to start out with some debt before I start making my money with it and we all know how uptight Minxy is about money. YIKES!!! My debut is going to be the weekend after Mother's Day and it's probably going to be like a Mary Kay open house type of deal. Megan, my unit director and the person whose team I'm on, will run the show and hopefully I'll be able to sell some of the large quantity of wholesale items I need to purchase to be able to start this out right. After reading what I just wrote, I realize it only conveys one part of what I'm feeling about this. I'm scared, yes, but I'm also really excited because I love make-up and skin care and the MK products are really good ones. I'm going to be a self-employed small business owner...how can that NOT be both scary AND exciting?

Deathtrap Dodge: The Van of Death

Driving onto the east ramp roadway that runs parallel to route 17 between Elmira's Church and Water streets, there was a van. To be more precise, an early-mid nineties model Dodge Caravan that had obviously seen better days. Doc and I were driving behind this fine piece of high-quality Mexi-merican-made machinery when I noticed the passenger side of the back end was lower than the other side. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that there was not nearly enough air in the tire to keep the van level. In fact, when given the right angles to view, I saw that the only tire that did, indeed, have enough air in it was the rear tire on the driver's side. Doc and I discussed this (while wondering aloud as to how in the hell they had fit 8 people along with all the extra shit we could see through the window) and came to the conclusion that somewhere along the way, that tire was gonna blow. Doc's plan was to get around said piece of shit van as soon as possible. The van, however, had other plans and thwarted the first attempt to pass once we were on the highway. It got quite a bit ahead of us and eventually, we came across it again. I looked and said "Oh my God, it's the van of death!" Doc concurred and said "You can tell it's hard to control by how it's wavering in the lane. I really want to get around it before it explodes and everyone in it dies" (or something to that effect anyway). So he tried a few more times to get by it, and eventually succeeded. As we passed, I looked out the window toward the van (and was tempted to open my window to tell them their tires needed air). I turned my head back to Doc and said "No wonder they were wavering so much; the driver wasn't using her co-pilot. They have 3 nearly flat tires and when I looked, she was looking down to her side for something instead of at the road. Dude, they're doomed."

Doormat No More

Sounds like some kind of spray to rid oneself of errant doormats, doesn't it? Well, I have no errant doormats that I know of. It's more in reference to the fact that I'm tired of how so many people in my life seem to think that I have to have their opinions. Or that I should bend to their will. Screw that! No, no more!

Every day, I'm bombarded with people trying to force their opinions on me. You read correctly, opinions, not beliefs, OPINIONS (which I just noticed that if you take the "p" and first "I" out of, you're left with ONIONS...stinky). People make it their routine to get others to "side" with what they think to be true. I also have a lot of people presenting false information to me as truth, but that's a whole other blog right there. Is everyone permitted to have an opinion? Of course they are. But is being allowed an opinion automatic permission to attempt to make others have the same exact one? No freakin way. Express it and get over it. Don't stand there telling me the same smack-talk over and over again trying to get me to like this or not like that all while assuming that we have the same thought on something, 'cause I can guarantee you that ninety percent of the time, we won't. Which is a nice segue into the wanna-bend-me-to-their-will part.

Here's a story.

I was recently verbally attacked twice by someone who decided it was their business to chime in on a private conversation I was having with someone else. (For the sake of efficiency, the person in question will be referred to in the masculine form.) I stated some opinions about someone else and also said that this someone else shouldn't advocate going against the rules. I wasn't being judgmental, I was stating facts. Well, he overheard the last couple of words of the conversation (the factual part about not breaking rules) and then tried to chew me out about it. The basic gist of the attacks was that this person wanted to assert his self-righteous conviction that whatever he said was right and I was wrong. The goal was to make me feel guilty and ashamed over what I was saying to the other person and to show to the world that I'm a bad person for my own opinions and assertions (which if he had heard the entire conversation, he would've been aware that they were indeed two different things). I was commanded to not pass judgment on people he knows, even though I hadn't. Now, if he had any concept of the English language, he would've known that passing judgment and stating an opinions and facts are not the same thing. Judgment implies one making a declaration of right/wrong and saying one should be praised/punished for the right/wrongdoing. I handled it quietly and didn't bend, which is actually a good thing for me. The point is, was the conversation any of their business? NO!! Did they think it was? YES. Why is that, I wonder? Why do people think that if they happen to overhear something that has nothing whatsoever to do with them, then they have the right to say and/or do whatever they want in response? Also, why do they think that I have to bow to their attack? Why do so many people think that others don't have (or aren't entitled to) a mind of their own?

I realize that's a lot of questions all in a row, but this shit's been bugging me for some time. In my daily routine, it's so easy to get sucked into other people's drama and/or mindsets and I'm so incredibly tired of it. So this is my declaration of reclamation of the Minx. I will no longer be intimidated by small people who use stupid, low tactics in a ridiculous attempt to empower themselves. I will no longer allow people to believe that I will assume their opinions instead of having my own. I will not bend and I will not break. My back will be as if I have a steel spine. My mind will be MY OWN. If anyone doesn't like that proposal, you can fuck off asshole, because it's non-negotiable.

Zzzzzz.....

Yes, I should probably be sleeping. I don't really feel like it, though. I think I'm feeling lost a little, in a spiritual sense, that is. 'Cause physically, I know precisely where I am (which is the corner of the kitchen where the computer desk is). I don't know. I just feel like I'm missing something and yikes, I'm starting to sound like an ad for the Book of Mormon. Not that I have anything against Mormons or Mormonism, it's just that some of their commercials start out that way. What sucks is that I have so many issues with all the religions I've either been exposed to or read about that I've found it nearly impossible to choose a way to cultivate spirituality in myself. It's frustrating. What's also frustrating is that this makes two serious posts in a row. I've lost the funny, I've lost the wit. Please, oh please let it come back soon.

A Thought

Sometimes, I wish I was famous or in charge of a big company or something. I just want to be important. I want to be known and admired for something more than my sarcasm. I mean, sarcasm's good and all, but not much in the grand scheme of things. And sometimes I feel like I'm not much in the grand scheme of things. Poop.