Post Secret

Shh...don't tell anyone.

It'll be our little secret.

Yes, I'm at work.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!  I mean it!

I have a friend who is completing a 30 day blog challenge.  Asshole.  (Just kidding, Richard!)

Maybe I'm doing a 30 month blog challenge...once every three years.  Forget the fact that my last post was five years ago.  Shut up, I don't need your negativity.

I'm just sitting here typing.  Nothing to say, and I don't care.  Guess what the point of this exercise is???  Yep, just write some shit.  Write it down.  I can talk about anything!  I mean, my last post...really really hilarious to me right now.  I remember that well; Charlie Sheen's meltdown.  I still feel for him.  At the same time...DONALD TRUMP, I HAVE YOUR RUNNING MATE!!!

It's an angry world out there, people.  I recently participated in my first ever protest at the ripe young age of 44, wielding a poster that said "Hate won't make America great."  My ever-supportive life partner/fellow cat-lover/favorite unicorn was so excited, he placed said poster in the front window of our first floor apartment.  It sat there for months.  At first our neighbor complimented us on it.  But then...just last week, he asked if I'd be willing to take it down.  He'd seen people scowl at it, and one night someone backed up and shined their headlights at it to get a better look, presumably.  

WTF, people.  What the holy effing fuck.  Just mentioning hate and anger brings it out, apparently.  And there are people freaking out about predators in public bathrooms, except they're not talking about Republican Senators.  They're actually referring to transgendered people using their bathroom of choice, the one they identify with, and pretending that these vulnerable trans people are a danger to children.  No, YOU ARE.  Not you, dear reader.  You know what I mean.

I don't have words for this.  I don't know how to counteract all of this hate and twisted thinking.  I didn't even set out to write about this today, but here it is.  So I took the sign down, to which dear unicorn love responded "Are you fucking KIDDING me?"  Not aimed at me but at the situation, the reason for the request, and perhaps a little bit towards our neighbor.  But what are we to do?  Yeah, radiate love and all that shit.  Doing it.  OK, I'm kind of not, because now I'M angry too.  And a little hateful.  Which means the terrorists are winning.

I'm ending here.  This blog doesn't have to make sense, it just has to exist.  For now.  Amen.  :P

I meant to do that...

Holy shitfire and brimstone, man.

You know how you should think before you speak?  Why do we seem to still remember that bit of sage advice but then fail to take pause before we send texts, post our crazy bullshit status updates, click that "like" button...?  And by "we" of course I mean "me."  I bet I'm the only one, right?

It's all Charlie Sheen's fault, really.  Let's go there.  Yes, this is about America's current most talked about celebrity (give it 5 minutes...wait for it...wait for it...AND there, he's over).  As most of you likely know, excluding all cave dwellers and/or anyone who doesn't watch tv, listen to the radio, read the papers, go online, or talk to anyone - hang on...if that's you, what're you doing here? - Charlie is having a very public, heartbreaking meltdown.  Or, as he puts it, winning!!!  ,

Well, I may have posted a status update making light of some of Mr. Sheen's recent utterances.  I by no means did so to make light of either substance abuse or mental illness (it's my belief that he suffers from both).  What is happening to Charlie Sheen is not funny.  Not in the least.  However, some of the things he says, especially singularly on their own?  Yeah, I've chuckled a few times.  I've not heard or seen any of these interviews in their entirety.  I have just been subjected to clips and quips thanks to morning radio and nightly news.  And in my own brand of nuttiness, my brain seemed to want to translate his words into lolspeak.  So I posted my translation.  Without thinking.  I can certainly understand that it may have appeared insensitive, and I had a moment where I thought to delete the post.  I ulitmately left it standing, and the ensuing dialogue that took place in the comments was amazing and inspiring.  So there.  I meant to do that, really. 

Maybe I'm not the only one who feels like a bit of a looky-loo, craning my head as I drive by the accident.  Damn, this bit of "news" is all over the place, all the time.  It's hard to avoid.  I read a great article on, of all places, yahoo news that pointed to us, the public, as Mr. Sheen's codependents in this situation and that the media is just doing it's job - reporting news.  It seems to me more like a two-headed beast; it takes both the consumers and the media to decide what's newsworthy.  It is elemental of our culture to find celebrity newsworthy, and the demise of the "great" also newsworthy.  We are watching a man self-destruct while he believes the exact opposite is true, which makes it even more astounding and it's hard to look away. 

But paying attention to what's happening to Charlie Sheen does not mean that we're not all totally messed up, depraved, twisted beings.  Many of us look on in shock, horror, sadness, and deep empathy.  So yes, we're looking...we're listening...but I'm not sure I would say we're exactly being entertained.  And even more hopefully, maybe we're even being educated.  At the very least it's given me pause, though I'm not sure I WILL think twice before I post whatever drivel and nonsense passes through my filter-challenged brain.  Why not be a lightning rod of controversy?  Look at where it got Charlie Sheen. 

Oh, wait, oops...

This is it.

Can we please not even mention anything about the fact that I haven't posted a blog in over a year? 

Oops, there, I did.  I already mentioned it.  Not going to make excuses.  I've experienced a phenomenon where the more time that passes without writing, the harder it is to write.  Something.  Anything.  As time goes by the more I feel like I have to explain, or have some reasonable excuse.  Expectation ~ my own, my friends, the unknown public ~ stifles all impulse to tap these sexy little laptop keys on anything other than facebook.  And maybe Sephora.com.

Not to blame anyone, but I know where it began.  In my very first post here (four whole posts ago...wow, impressive!) I talked about "going public" and blogging for a wider audience.  BIG MISTAKE, in a lot of ways.  First there's the self-created performance anxiety.  Typically I can get the hell over that all by myself no problem.  Friendly advice thrown in with meeting people who wrote actual, "real" blogs (and an awesome one at that) combined to create a severe lack of follow through.  If you only knew how many posts I wrote in my head this past year...so much wasted entertainment...moment of silence for the lost blogs...

ANYWAY, it was suggested if I wanted to be taken seriously as a blogger I had to write, like, alllllllllllllllllllllllll the time.  Or on some sort of regular basis.  Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh, nooooooooo!  EXPECTATIONS!  Rules!  Yikes!!!  I was encouraged to research other blogs.  Someone pointed out to me that my writing is great - if you're someone who knows me well.  I realized I needed to stop writing just for my friends and family.  OK, all reasonable suggestions and actually do-able. 

*SIGH*

You mean, work?

That brings us here, kinda I guess.  And let me tell you something.  I have no plans to be taken seriously as a serious blogger.  Seriously.  I have no agenda.  I will not be making promises to blog at certain time intervals; that just smacks of a New Year's resolution.  We know how those usually turn out.  Yeah, I thought about it a lot and ohmygodcanyoubelieveit I really just want to write for fun.  For me.  And maybe for you a little bit too.

But only if you don't give me any crap about having to wait (and wait, and wait) to hear what I have to say next.  That day may never come.  For all you or I know this could very well be the only thing I post until the next time Haley's Comet comes around.  Or double asteroids hit. 

Happy NOvember.

I cannot post a blog without acknowledging how long it's been since I've last posted. Wow, I feel like I should be kneeling in the online confessional..."Bless me internets, for I have sinned. It has been 6 weeks since I've last blogged."  That one was for you Catholics, both practicing and recovering.  Yes, it has been awhile and without going into a long story, I will just say that I haven't been 100% well.  When my gas tank is low, the first thing to go is typically the writing jones, sadly. 

But here I am making the effort because damn it, I have something to say.  I bet you're thinking given the title and very recent events I am going to wax political about the state of our (civil) union.  You are incorrect.  Indeed, I am deeply disappointed in the election results.  This blog is not about that.  NO-vember is not about that.

NO, it's all about me.  Never expect anything else from my blogs and you will not be let down.  Well, geez, it's not YOUR blog, is it? 

Moving along...to an actual point...

Has anyone ever suggested to you that you need to learn to say "no" or to do so more often?  It's not something that has come up for me a lot, given that I have over time learned the value of good old boundaries.  Yet I was recently asked, "what would happen if you said no to everything for a week?"  I responded, "A week?  Not much...it would probably be a week where no one asked me anything.  But what about a MONTH?"

And thus it has been decided (the trash heap has spoken!) that November is the month of NO.  I'm serious.  Just...no.  No excuses or explanations tagged on to the end of it.  It's a blanket policy applying to all aspects of my life.  My intent is for my default answer to be NO all the time.  I do, however, maintain the option to change my mind after careful thought, after I consider said request or action's potential impact on my energy, psyche, health, life.  I need to explore whether it's something I truly want to do and have energy for rather than letting guilt, obligations, or lack of a "reason" rule my decision making.

This should be interesting.  You're wondering how this plays out in the real world. Here are some scenarios I envision:

Message on my voicemail: "Can you give me a call back?"  Me: No.

Friend being supportive: "Have you thought about talking to your doctor?"  Me: No.

Employer:  "Would you like a promotion and raise?"  Me: Fuck yes! (What you think I'm crazy here?)

So please, my friends and family...be prepared.  I am going to make every effort humanly possible to just say no.  It will sound abrupt.  We're so used to "Well, I have to blah blah blah so I don't know, blah blah blah," am I right?  No one ever just says no, there is always a long story, an excuse, an explanation.  Are you ready for this?  I am. 

Happy NO-vember everyone! Feel free to hit me up for anything; I'd love to be tested on this.  I promise a full report at month's end.  At the very least...great fodder for my next blog! 

Ground Control to Major Tom

Here I am at long last, living on my own for the first time in my life.  I am stuffed into a two room studio (kitchen, bedroom, bathroom) wondering where to put all my clothes and toiletries.  In a effort to make the situation sound super cool, my dear friend Cindy has referred to the new place as a Space Station.  "Pretend you're in outer space," she said.  "It'll be fun!" she claimed.  So here we are, me and the two kitties, exploring the far reaches of the galaxy from Space Station ______________.  There, I officially just started a contest to name my apartment. 

Last night I'm sitting here chatting with a friend, and it goes something like this:

Friend:  How's the view from the space station?
Me:  I don't know about my view, but the neighbors might get a decent shot of mah bewbs.
Friend:  Like giant asteroids hurling through space!!!

*Sigh*

Yes, I need to install a mini-blind.  Just one.  No biggie, right?  Well...I hate to admit it, but somehow along the way of my adult development I have become one of those women who feels the need for a man to hang things up for her.  I mean, when I even THINK of  hanging up shelves, a picture, mini-blinds, my head goes all fuzzy.  All pink and fuzzy and blurry. 

I thought about how I might get some help with this, and what does everyone do these days?  Craigslist!!!  Can you imagine...I post an ad on craigslists looking for a man to help me hang things in my apartment.  Some poor little damsel in distress, welcoming strange men into her home.  The very most optimist in you might see the beginnings of a really bad porn film here.  My Mom will see her dear baby girl bloodied and dying from grisly power tool wounds.  I see something in between, and a little bit of both:  super creepy guy comes over to find me and at least two of my girlfriends waiting.  He's thinking porn film, we're poised and ready to stab the bastard over one wrong move. 

Then I think, does it have to be a guy?  I know some serious bad ass women who can rock some power tools.  If any of you are once again seeing the opening of a slightly less cheezy porn film, I understand.  Please don't get too distracted. ANYWAY...hanging things on walls does not equal brain surgery.  Shouldn't I be able to do this myself?  Well of course I CAN.  Everybody knows I'm capable.  It just seems like an enormous effort.  I don't even own any tools.  And no way I am going to go buy those stupid PINK ones just because I'm a girl. 

But I will do it.  I will find a way.  Because even though I enjoy the view of Andromeda from my space station window, I'd like to keep the two giant asteroids (not to mention the MOON) covered up.  Indeed.

Turning Over a New Leaf.

How appropriate for fall, and I didn't even plan it that way...

Let me begin with a WELCOME!  Holy crap, people.  I'm going public!  Those of you who have followed my myspace blogging adventures understand what a big step this is for me.  It means that I may have to edit myself a bit more carefully, but that will only spur my creativity!

So why now, why the new blog, why the new leaf?  The new more public blog - it just about TIME, damn it.  No more contemplating the move, just do it.

As for anything else...again, if you've followed me on facebook, myspace, or the actual (GASP! ohmygoodness!) REAL world, you have seen nuttin but angst for the past couple of months.  Every time life throws a curveball, does Catherine make lemonade???  Nooooooo.  She cries out to the masses for support and validation.  Nothing wrong with that...we SHOULD ask for support when we need it.  But I was seeing a pattern, and it was a clear sign that I was not myself.

This is both excusable and understandable.  The calendar year 2009 has been not so friendly to me and mine.  It has been, to say the least, a rough year filled with losses both literal and figurative.  I have had to regroup, realign, and find a way to ground myself when everything around me was in flux.  I moved TWICE.  My relationship of 8 years ended.  My two most precious...died.  This is the short list.

And though I brought my struggles to others, I never once played the pity card.  No one ever said "Wow, let's go easy on Catherine, she's had a rough year."  No one ever thought they should protect me from any harsh realities, because we all know...I can handle my shit.  And yours, and theirs, and everyone else's.  Right?

Wrong.  The new leaf has turned because I finally see that I need to STOP.  In the words of a wise friend, "You seem to be like the boxer who just got knocked out and then climbs back into the ring with a better opponent without taking the time to heal and train harder.  Give yourself a chance to recover from the blows you have been hit with...Give yourself time to heal."

Amen, brotha.  So, I'm going into retirement.  I don't even think I really know how to step out of the ring, so to speak.  But I damn well know how to take care of myself.  I know that it's time to stop and look, really look at what happened this year.  Process.  Process some more.  Begin to heal. 

And then...ONLY THEN...move forward.