Thursday, May 21, 2015

My Bad Attitude

I've been spinning my wheels for a while now.  Feeling like failure, but also feeling like I have the individual components of what it takes to be successful.  I have talent, I work hard and I'm authentic with good intentions.  So what's holding me back?  My bad attitude.

Not to brag or anything, but I'm really successful at failing.  

See what I mean?  This is my self defeatist mindset.  I'm also ridiculously cynical.  So a while ago, I was nominated for some kind of blog award thing by an anonymous person.  Instead of being flattered,  I just assumed it was some kind of scam.  Because why wouldn't it be?  So I did what any true self loathing skeptic would do, I ignored it, deleted the notification and went on with my life as if it never happened.  But, what if it was real?  

Don't try to give me a compliment or do me any favors,  because I'll reject them.   

I don't mean to be an ungrateful bitch, I swear!  It's not that I think that I'm better than anyone else, in fact,  I'm positive I'm not.  It's just how can I rightfully accept something I don't deserve?   But now that I'm putting it into writing and see it in print on my screen,  I can see how it would turn people off.  To give a gift, only to receive a slap in the face in the return.  Which is absolutely not my intention at all.   

If I'm ever going to succeed, I need to fix my bad attitude.
But what if I have a fear of failure and a fear of success?
What do I do then?

Monday, May 18, 2015


I always liked school and tests.  In fact, I could live quite happily as a perpetual student.  With a syllabus as my road map and my thirst for knowledge driving me to excel.  Not to mention my perfectionism that catapults my drive, bordering on obsession.  So imagine my surprise when I took an evaluation to see how much of a perfectionist I am and I didn't achieve a perfect score.

Translation:  I'm a failure.

Oh, I know being a perfectionist isn't a good thing.  Because all you can do is fail at it.  Setting up unreasonable expectations and then falling short all the time.  Because I cycle through it all the time.  Nothing I do is ever good enough for me because it can always be better.  I have difficulty seeing things I do well because I dwell, ruminate, fixate and obsess on the myriad of things I'm not good at.  

My inner critic is a condescending perfectionistic bitch.

So, no matter what I do, I'm never good enough for me.  But, here is where I failed being a perfect perfectionist on the test, I don't judge others by my impossible standards.   I double checked with my husband just to make sure I was right on that.  Because while perfectionists can be rigid and 
unforgiving, we're also prone to indecision.   Turns out I was right.  Yay!

Being right is like winning.  
I don't know what I'm winning, but does it matter?  
(Perfectionists may also be extremely competitive.)

Then, I felt kinda validated not getting an "A" in perfectionism because if I did it would be even harder on my friends and family to live with me.  Really, when you think about it, I should have scored better because I'm sparing people around me from my harsh criticism and judgement.  So if you take that into consideration and scored on a curve, I would actually have an "A".   Although that "A" would never be enough to satisfy me.  

Because it's never enough.  
I'm insatiable.

Recommending Reading

  Better than Perfect:  7 Strategies to Crush Your Inner Critic and Create a Life you Love

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Acting Normal

My real life naturally 100% weird phone case.
  I didn't think I was good at much of anything, until I realized I'm a fantastic actress.  Pretending to be something I'm not day after day.  Acting like I'm okay, when I'm really unsure and more than a little insecure.  But, yet I seem to pull off acting normal on an almost daily basis.

It's the most popular illusion of our society.  

What the hell is normal anyhow?  It's extroverted and friendly.  But not too friendly because that's called creepy.  Normal has a nice light earthy scent.  Kinda like fresh cut grass.  But not overtly funky like b.o. or garlic breath.  It also votes, recycles, exercises, bakes fabulous cupcakes, not to mention scones, makes thoughtful handmade gifts and volunteers a lot.  Normal is annoyingly perfect.  

Which is why I'm not normal. 

And neither is anyone else.  And who would even want to be normal anyhow with all that pressure and those expectations?  Plus, then everyone is acting like the same person.  How boring is that?  So screw socially acceptable.  Embrace your inner awkward freak.  Unless you're a close talker.  Because no one likes a close talker.  Trust me on this and take a step back and say it, don't spray it already.  

And just remember:   
Stay weird.    

Monday, May 11, 2015

Black Sheep

I grew up in a serious, conservative, large Catholic family.  I realized at a fairly early age I was absolutely none of those things.  I always felt different.  And back then, I didn't think of being different as anything favorable.  In fact,  because I was a sensitive child, I found it isolating and sensed I was misunderstood.

 I was the black sheep of my family.  

So when I became a mom, my priority was to have a funny, liberal, large almost Buddhist family.  But the kids didn't have to be any of those things.  And I didn't expect them to make their beds either. Because I found it a huge waste of time and I didn't want to waste energy nagging them when there were far more important things on the nagging scale, like homework.

I encouraged my kids to be different.

And one of them is particularly different.  Just not in a way that I ever expected.  I anticipated a whole spectrum of contrasting views about a huge array of issues.  I was so mentally prepared to welcome them all with open arms.  Discussing them all over a nice dinner of healthy, organic, sustainable, fair trade lentil loaf.  I WAS THERE I TELL YOU.  Until I discovered, one of my kids is  *gasp* conservative.   Whaaaaaaaaaaattttttt?  Where did this come from?

Maybe it's mandatory that every family have a black sheep.  
To challenge everything you thought about yourself and everything else.

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Third Time's a Charm

I got pink eye three times in a row.  I'm positive I'm done now because the third time is always the charm, right?  Because there's something about three that magically cuts your karmic losses. It is the magic number after all, so says School House Rock.  Or maybe the third time is just the time you decide enough is enough already.  And take things into your own thoroughly washed and perfectly disinfected hands.

A couple of months ago I told you we bought a 1972 Indian Winnebago sight unseen off the internet. In Montana.  From a woman who wasn't forthright about the condition it was in.  Or that it was inundated with cigarette smoke.  And we got taken for a ride.  Which included three trips out to Montana to bring it home.  All of which had to be aborted.  But only after it drained a lot of time, energy and money.

Sometimes the power of three is just knowing when to cut your losses.  
I'm pretty sure Tony Robbins said that.
 (I might have made that up.) 

 I've learned three things from pink eye:

1.  I'm now able to give myself eye drops like a grown ass adult.  (The adult part is a lie.)
2.  I'm ridiculously stubborn.
3.  I'm prone to idiocy.

Ok, so I already knew 2 & 3.  But, while I washed the sheets, towels, my hands, threw out my make-up (twice)  I pondered where o' where I could have possibly gotten pink eye from three times.  Until I finally narrowed it down to one thing, which was the only thing left.  The new oil I started using to moisturize around my eyes.  Which I did sporadically, you know, when I remembered. I mean,  it DID leave them moisturized, in a very weepy, crusty infected way.  Because the oil wasn't intended to be used near the eye area.  Of course, I only read that after round #3 of pink eye.  (Please read #2 & #3 of things I've learned from pink eye over again.)  

Maybe three is just the number you stop believing things are a coincidence.

Monday, May 4, 2015

Delusions of Grandeur

This photo is an illusion,  the way most photos on social media are these days.  First of all, I took it to commemorate the best hair day I've had in like a decade.  I was wearing make-up, which is part of my daily routine.  But, cute earrings and a tunic are not.  I happened to be dressed up to go out with a friend.  And then after I took this picture, in really good lighting by the way, I filtered the hell out of it,  just for this post.  My skin looks flawless doesn't it?  It isn't, nor has it ever been.

It's nothing short of a delusion of grandeur.  

It used to be that you had a camera and you had no idea what the image you captured looked like until you got it developed.  And with prehistoric Kodak instamatic camera,  chances are, it probably looked terribly unflattering.  (Especially with your mullet.)  But, everyone's photos did, so no one really knew how bad they were.  We were all on a level playing field.  And if the photo was particularly hideous, you ripped it up and it simply ceased to exist.  

And then things went digital. 

Which is when everything changed.  The most important of those being, that photo will live FOREVER.  And if you post it on social media, it can be seen by EVERYONE.  The entire world can see you in an instant.  (Especially your mullet.)  So, no pressure or anything, but you probably want to look pretty damn good.  Your best even.  Even if it's a bit fictionalized. Because everyone else on Instagram does.  It just levels the playing field.

I admit I'm as guilty as anyone else.

But, I get extremely frustrated with the lack of realism.  Sure, it's great to take a great picture and feel good about yourself.  But, it's also important to portray reality.  And how we all fall short of that unattainable ideal.  So, when I woke up with pink eye 2 weeks ago, I immediately took a photo and posted it to Twitter and Instagram, unedited and unfiltered.  And it instabombed and twitterflopped.  I left them up for a week, before I impulsively deleted them.  Which I'm ashamed to admit.  I did mention photos on the internet last forever right?  So, I've posted it again here for round 2, to redeem myself.  Forever.

Luckily, I got a second round of pink eye, so I was able to post a second photo my funky eye sans makeup & filter on Instagram.   Because I really want to keep things real.  And yes, those are my real under eye circles and blotchy skin.  So what?  The only person you're deluding is yourself.  Further  perpetuating the myth that you're not enough just the way you are.  Which is the greatest delusion of grandeur of all.

Thursday, April 30, 2015

I Should

I should.  They are two very dangerous words.   Oh they look innocent enough.  But I assure you, they're not.  They're loaded with cultural expectations, unattainable goals and guilt.  Lots and lots of guilt.

How many times a day do you say, "I should...."?

And not just said out loud, but that silent but deadly "should" that lives inside your head.  If you're anything like me (and I'm going to guess you are) the answer is a lot.  I "should" myself through the entire day, every day.  While some of them are completely valid, like I "should" remember to call my dad.  Others, are more outlandish, like I "should" be the perfect mom, sew the kids clothes out of curtains and solve the atrocities in Syria.  

I should stop doing that! 

Dammit...I just did it again!  Or maybe this is my biggest "should" ever.  The one I should actually follow through on.  Because one person can "should" a million things, but one can only "do" so much.  Especially if you're going to do the things you do do well.  

So, you really should give yourself a break.

As for me?  I'll just be over here contemplating that I should have submitted this post to one of those inspirational on-line magazines to get more exposure for my writing.  Dammit....I just did it again!  Oh well, opportunity lost...


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