NBC has had some big fails in their Olympic coverage over the years but this was gross. This poor guy has been trying to get to the Olympics for 20 years, is wearing a traditional belt made by his Aunt and actually has a story to share but instead Al Roker shreds his name and then these two creepily interrupt it all to rub oil on him. Switch the genders and file some lawsuits.
In all my travels, I have only hated one city and that city Cleveland, the Mistake on the Lake. Every time I hear the C word, I mutter “f#$k@ng Cleveland” to myself. Every time someone asks me to explain why I hate that hell hole, I see the look of regret on their face as I launch into a point-by-point detailed rant about my time there that often requires ducking to avoid my animated gestures.
Even at this point in my post, my jaw hurts like hell from clenching it trying to repress the profanity.
After my first night there I woke up expressing understanding for Art Modell and The Move to Baltimore. The 13 year old niece I was traveling with did not get the reference but knew I meant something.
Even though I do not follow Basketball, the payoffs were hell. I had to replace my filter repeatedly so as to not spew “f#$k@ng Cleveland” randomly in public. Although, from what I understand of the result, I might have gotten a high-five or two.
And now we have the RNC convention. Between the Trumpcapades and the host city, my soul might not survive this week; I am a delicate flower after all.
I am going to try some breathing techniques, chanting positive mantras, journaling, and enjoy some extra dark chocolate at night as I try to keep me calm. I would love to break my Pavlovian response to any mention of C-town but I probably have a better chance of never eating sugar again…especially since I stocked up.
Wish me luck. F#$k*@g Cleveland!
It has been 4½ months since my crappy text break up. It feels like just yesterday. It feels like an eternity. It was just the right amount of time for his new chick face to sell her stuff and move part way across the country to live with him.
I knew it was coming but that didn’t stop the post in my Facebook stream from feeling like a jolt. Just another reminder, an inconsiderate one, how quickly and completely one can be erased and replaced.
It is a weird feeling being sad about something you no longer want or maybe never actually wanted at all; it is an incomplete emotion but luckily fleeting. She has what I wanted to want but not what I want.
There are things I still miss about him but I don’t miss being lied to and all the nonsense. Change happens at different speeds for different people and I just move a bit slower I guess. I hope he finds the happiness he is looking for…mostly hope…like 95 – 97%.
In reaction to the manifesto from the mass killer in Santa Barbara promising to punish women who had rejected him, my Twitter stream has been flooded with disturbing, emotional and angry commentary and experiences of misogyny tagged #YesAllWomen.
This conversation does not surprise me, as my slice of the social media pie has been sharing thoughts more often lately on related topics from rape culture in college, to bullying and other abuse. There has also been lengthy debates on Lena Dunham daring to be comfortable enough with her body to get naked on screen, the kidnapping of school girls in Nigeria and the subsequent “#BringBackOurGirls” hash tag campaign and discussions on what is feminism including Neko Case’s response to Playboy labeling her a “female musician” and how Shailene Woodley, of the upcoming movie “A Fault In Our Stars”, is wrong or just misinformed on the subject.
Continue reading “Thoughts On #YesAllWomen That Required Many More Than 140 Characters”
It is a special kind of torture when you are at a point in your life when you must tell yourself to “let it go” repeatedly and there is a catchy, uber popular Disney song by the same name playing everywhere. Torture.
I have never heard the entire tune, have not seen the movie but I am tormented by the refrain. Maybe if I see the movie I will finally release myself from its musical grasp, but I am having trouble confronting my fear.
I try to tell myself to “let it be” or “don’t worry, be happy” or even “shut up” but I fail and the song worms into my brain. It is ironic that a tune about letting go, won’t let go of my inner music channel. Torture.
I wish I were one of those people that could put something behind them and move on quickly. Me, I mostly do but there is always this remnant that swirls about until one day it miraculously evaporates and fades from memory as if it had never been a thing at all. If only that could happen sooner and on command I would be a bit more at peace.
Side note: this process is true of everything but my resentment for my mother and her pet killing/giving away tendencies. No matter what I try, I have never been able to fully let that go as evidenced by a recent unexpected outburst. I probably need to let go of the notion that I can let that go.
Right now the swirling is about a friend, also an ex-boyfriend, who sometimes is a total inconsiderate tool. I am annoyed. What I am annoyed about is not worth putting down on paper yet thinking about it makes my jaw clench, my eyes squint and my stomach floppy…and my head full of profanity. I am torn between my desire to write a long detailed explanation of my anger to him and the resolve that it would not matter or change anything. It never has.
I remind myself that people make time for what they care about and what their priorities are not for my expectations and the only thing I can control is my response. I tell myself to accept people as they are, not how I wish they would be. I ask myself if this will even matter in a year, a month or a few weeks. I reluctantly admit that I have not mastered the force and I do not control the Universe even though I really should because things would suck so much less for us all, well maybe not people I get annoyed with.
Ultimately, I tell myself to let it go and then suffer through that damn song swirling in my head along with the various remnant thoughts that just won’t give me a break. Torture.
If you are offended by profanity, this post is not for you. Avert your eyes. Run away!
This morning I woke up cranky, sleepy, sore, craving hashbrowns and with a meh Stevie Wonder song stuck in my head; my dreams were so annoying I couldn’t wait to stop dealing with them.
A year ago today I got back together for the last time with my ex-boyfriend and the fact that I am aware of this date and feeling a bit sad just irritates me. Actually, the whole getting back together thing is what annoys me and I wonder why we ever did.
I have regrets. Knowing where our relationship went, or didn’t, makes the whole exercise feel like a waste of time and energy that could have gone elsewhere; it seems to have served the sole purpose of biding time until he could meet new chick face and move on. Well, I guess we did watch every Godzilla movie so there was that, but now I associate Godzilla with him too so that just rankles me.
Having regrets is stupid and pointless and aggravating and more pointless and even though I feel that way at times, I mostly don’t. I guess. I’d have to go all the way back to never meeting him anyway which I don’t want. Pointless.
It just irks me that I still have moments where I miss him. It is tiresome. I am running out of new words for annoying, which is galling, exasperating and chaps my ass as they used to say.
We text but don’t have real conversations and maybe someday I will get used to that and some of his vexing etiquette, or at least not get pissed off or bent out of shape or miffed. Did I use miffed already?
I tried to walk off my morning crabbiness but it didn’t completely work although it did take care of my sleepiness. I managed to eat some hashbrowns, which satisfied my craving and eventually that Stevie Wonder song went away until I just typed this and it is back and that really gets my goat.
I guess today was I was just meant to be in a mood and, after all these years, that I can’t control my mood is really what angers, annoys, exasperates, galls and ticks me off the most.
Today is the anniversary of my fist break up with my ex-boyfriend; I remember the day since it coincides with other days of note. Our first break was not fun but it was easier since I was ready for it, we had an actual adult conversation, it was about his inabilities to deal and I suppose because I was entangled elsewhere not too long after. None of those things are true this time.
I have had bouts of sadness this week and have been trying to figure out what is behind these feelings. It has been 2 months since our text break up which, depending on the day, feels like an eternity or just yesterday, but it has only been a few weeks since we talked and I heard his truth. In some ways I had to start processing the breakup all over again, blending his truth with mine.
Nearly all of my favorite songs, and others I don’t even like much, have a specific image imprinted in my brain and when I hear the tune that image immediately flashes. Sometimes it is as simple as a color, other times it is a vivid scene from my past. “Something In Common” always invoked a distinct image of the day in Philadelphia when I first met my ex-boyfriend. It has always been a happy image but now it seems my subconscious is trying to to make me sick of it as this song has been playing in my mind for about 20 hours now. No matter what tune is playing in the outside world, my brain is spinning this. Stupid brain.
I first saw Free Energy live at SXSW in 2010, then later in the fall at the 400 Bar (RIP 400 Bar, your new location at MOA just won’t be the same) and finally a third time that year in Philadelphia, their adopted hometown after members moved from Minneapolis. This video is reminiscent of each time I saw them in these tiny bars. I am hoping if I play it enough today, my brain DJ will finally relent.
When I decided to finally put all of my various writing thingies under one umbrella, I knew there might be a clash or some confusion with the different types of posts included, as in stories verses personal thoughts.
Posts about My Crappy Breakup and Operation Suck Less in 2014 are mostly personal thoughts, a glorified journal really, that for some reason I thought would be a good idea to make public. These thoughts are those things rattling around in my head that are demanding time and attention and require that I spit them out so that other thoughts have some room to breathe. While true and accurate, they are not complete. It would be impossible to be complete. Seriously, impossible.
sugar TANTRUM 