Noise Pollution

I haven't written a blog in quite a while.

Actually, that's not entirely accurate. I've written several blogs over the course of the past twelve to fourteen months (twenty-one blogs to be exact) but I haven't published any of them. They sit in the "drafts" section of my Blogger account, waiting for me to do something with them. I think some of them are decent, but I also know that they're probably going to be controversial to some.

Millions of people across the country are astonishingly brave, especially when they get behind a keyboard. With that said, why do I have reservations regarding my own writing? Why should I care if I may or may not piss someone off? Everyone else lacks the common courtesy filter. Maybe I should look into that.

Most of the time, I bite my tongue when I know in my heart, I really should be speaking up. For instance, I was in the brand new Fort Thomas Panera (yuumm) a few weeks ago, when I witnessed a cranky older man absolutely laying into the two young girls behind the counter. Over coffee. Coffee. Since when did everyone become so disconnected and rude?

I almost spoke up...

If you're going to get nasty with people old man, how about you stay at home and make your own damn coffee?

But I didn't, dammit. There are many other scenarios where I probably should have opened my mouth, but didn't.The less confrontation, the better, right? Unless you're a blatant asshole, I probably won't call you out (as seen in my previous blogs). Or unless I've has a few beers.

Throughout my entire life, I feel as though I've been somewhat of a peacemaker. The type of person needing and wanting to make everyone around me feel as comfortable as possible. To make people laugh. To make them feel great about themselves.

Until now. Something in my mind has drastically shifted over the course of the last twelve months. Maybe it's the endless array of bullshit that I've been forced to endure time and time again. The constant battle to try to make my friends and family - and even complete strangers - happy. Happier than myself, even.

I'm getting to that point in my life where, I'm not biting my tongue any longer. Nothing in this life is safe or secure. Or nice. Or permanent. So stay tuned; this is just the prologue.

Happy Freakin' V-Day

Well, it's that time of year again. Valentine's Day. The season of love. And over-priced merchandise. And even though I'm in a happy and committed relationship now, this "holiday" still gives me a giant case of the ass.

Last year was tragic. My newly-wed brother asked me of all people to run and fetch his delightful little order of a dozen beautiful long-stemmed red roses along with a container of plump, hand-dipped chocolate covered strawberries and place them in their house so that when his newly-wed wife would come home later that day, she would find them sitting on their newly-wed coffee table.

How romantic!

Yes, my doofus little bother asked his older, lonely, and very single sister to run his Valentine's Day errands for him. SHIT!

I walked into Kroger and the place was like a Ringling Brothers production. The floral department was flooded with frantic desperate men, looking to spend their entire savings on marked-up flowers and candy. And of course, they were all shopping at the last possible minute. Typical. All I wanted to do was grab the lovely-dovey crap and get the hell out of there.

Well, that wasn't at all possible. I waited in line for what seemed like an eternity. By the time I finally made my way back to the deli to pick up the stupid strawberries, I was balling my eyes out, and was barely able to muster up the words: I have a pick-up order for Barno. The lady looked at me like I was a two-headed homeless girl begging for spare change. She finally found the order, I ran out of that horrid place as fast as I could, still weeping like an infant.

I never want to re-live that moment ever, ever again.

So, this Valentine’s Day, my heart goes out to anyone that has ever struggled to get through this ridiculously dumb day. Happy Freakin’ V-Day, people.

** But, I still love you, Kim E Sherwood! <3

 

And That's Life, I Guess

As I get older, I miss being that free-spirited, happy-go-lucky kid, with every breath that I take. Let's face it - being a kid was awesome. No responsibilities, no worries, no regret... just pure unadulterated freedom from responsibility and uninhibited fun with likeable friends. I would partake in enjoyable activities all day long: I would ride my bike, roller skate, and when I got a little older, swim at the pool. I would laugh with my friends like there was no tomorrow. And Santa Claus! The thrill of Santa Clause showing up on Christmas Eve, and finding those wonderful gifts under the beautifully lit Christmas tree the next morning; was so very magical. I really don’t think there was anything in the world better than the way I felt at that very moment. I am extremely lucky to have had such a joyful childhood.

As a teenager, my biggest concern was whether or not the Delia's catalog I was constantly ordering from was going to have my size shoe, or if that cute boy in my art class was finally going to ask me out, already (come on, man!!). I ran track, was really big into theatre and acting, and relentlessly flirted with lots and lots of boys. The days where finding a killer Prom dress seemed to be my biggest worry - and accomplishment. Not to mention, I could eat like I was going to the electric chair and I never had to worry about gaining an ounce. Those really were the days.

College finally arrived, and I began to learn what it required to live on my own, was forced to buy things like laundry detergent and stamps (you know, the really fun stuff), and I had to be accountable for, well, um, everything. As a poor college student, I had to live on Ramen Noodles and Pop-Tarts and study incessantly and it was incredible! I was a Delta Gamma, so I got to go to things like mixers and parties, and fundraisers, and dances. Some of the best years of my life were had in that first year of college.

And now - I'm (gasp!) 31. As in, THIRTY-ONE YEARS OLD. I am an adult. A real life, bill-paying, condo-fixing, mother-of-two-spoiled-doggies ADULT. I can't even begin to tell you how saying this absolutely blows my mind. I don’t feel 31. Hell, nine times out of ten, I don’t act 31. How in the hell did I get to be in my 30's?! I go to work every day, deal with butt head complainers on a regular basis, have lots and LOTS of responsibilities - and even more bills. BILLS. Ugh, might I add that paying bills is a completely unfair (and tedious) task? It seems like there was always something that needs to be paid off or even more, repaired, and certainly at a price to me. Car repairs, home repairs, doctor bills, vet bills. I can't imagine how expensive having kids will be (and may I say, kudos to the parents out there working to make ends meet, just to keep their kids clothed and fed and in basketball/soccer/cheerleading/football, 'cause there is certainly nothing is cheap about any of that).

I will tell you that when I turned 30, this uncontrollable feeling of impending doom suddenly took over my once happy demeanor. Oh, and the little things – things that I hadn't really given much thought before - suddenly became life-threatening:

Oh no, could that skipping heart beat possibly be heart disease? Wait, could that constant dry cough be lung cancer? And hold on, what the hell is with all of these lines, wait are those…WRINKLES?! SHIT, maybe I SHOULD have listened to my mother and put on more sunscreen after all, instead of just telling her I did. OK, what's with that spot on my arm?? Could that be skin cancer?? Oh, thank God it's just an age spot. Wait, Doctor, did you just say I have an AGE SPOT? Seriously???

I will honestly but regretfully say that I have been to the doctor more times since I turned 30 than Heidi Montag with all of her plastic surgeries. It's absurd, really. It's amazing what turning 30 can do to a poor girl.

***

The whole idea of aging and growing up just makes me ponder the more profound questions in life. These questions go through my mind quite a bit now, especially when I see horrific things happening in our world today. I worry about things that I cannot control - I wonder why we are here and what our true purpose is. I also question why life flies by so damn quickly. This is especially the case when I am driving in my car for some reason; my mind has a tendency to wonder at that time. I have to wonder, is everyone like this? Does everyone worry about the things that they can’t change also? 

I will be the first to admit that I am terrified of death. I'm even more terrified of losing the people in my life that mean so much to me. I lost my cousin - my best friend - my partner in crime - when I was barely out of high school and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wonder why on earth God could take such a good person (kid, that is) away, and why she didn’t get to grow up and experience the things that I was able to experience over the course of the past 12 years. None of it makes any sense to me. Maybe in the "end", I will finally get to see why.

Time goes back quicker now than it ever did when I was younger, when I spent so much of my energy wishing to grow up. I let it all slip right by me. I don't know that I ever really appreciated being so young and carefree. I will say, that now, everyday, I sure as hell try to appreciate what’s right in front of me. Everyday is truly a blessing.

And that's life, I guess.