Aria'z Ink

Wow I Missed You... OK, Not Really, But It Sounds Better Than Life Happens

2012-01-25T18:42:00.000-06:00

You mofos ain't gonna belieeeeve this shiiiit!

Yes, yes, I know... I haven't been here since August of last year.

Shame on me for leaving you hanging with no follow up to my then current upheaval. It's alright, I got what I deserved karmically for doing so... more upheaval!

I could serve you legitimate excuses ~~the computer died again, I had to give up my internet access for financial reasons, I lost my apartment for the same reasons months later~~, but I won't. Life threw me some curve balls and I honestly didn't feel like chronicling them. Some were incredibly disheartening, others just lessons that I had to learn ~~again~~.

So, did I learn my lesson?

Ummm... kinda...

Survey says: New Direction!

I'm not working... and here I go actually throwing myself into my writing for the first time in years. Doing the "I swear I'm serious about my writing!" thing...even if it sounds like a bullshit cop-out since I haven't worked in three months and haven't written anything of real consequence in longer than that.

Yeah. Well... fuck it, and here we go with the nitrous button broken off; which is just kind of how it always seems to work out for me. So... new...old... whatever. It's the current gameplan. *shrugs*

Like the inspiring tree of life, I embrace my twisty limbs and grow off into something a little different...even though I'm still a tree... or an Aria... same difference.

One day I'll look like Alan Greenspan (we share a birthday...just not the same financial acumen) in that picture up there... Like he's telling a rapt crowd, "HOLY SHIT! I FUCKED UP, but I survived, in fact I learned how to LIVE and look at all of you listening to me like I know something now! HA!"

So the journey begins yet again, and this time I'm writing it ALL down.

Because honestly, if I don't, no one will believe what is going on and years from now when they do my biopic it will be considered a work of fiction and then I'll be accused of plagiarism and be fined instead of paid. See the problem?

So get ready... Unabridged insanity is about to follow... or in my case: that with which the Universe has blessed me ~~even if it sounds mental and totally made up~~ .

Bitchslapped...er Suckerpunched

2011-08-09T12:26:00.000-05:00

Image by dawkeye via FlickrI cannot go into details... mainly because I am not going to cry and die here because it's one sided.

But ya know, it is MY blog, and I do come here to bitch, so I'll give ya enough to get the gist of the situation...

Second reason for the lack of details; I'm not putting the negative out into the Universe right now, cause I've got enough and I don't want any more of it rebounding...

See the picture? Pretend it's the guy thwackin' the girl... in actuality, it felt way more like a sucker punch.

Ok, so long and short of it, mainly short... Tx-ex, despite knowing my precarious financial situation, chose to bitchslap me in the wallet... and the face.

Yes, chose.

And the true kicker for me was that he told me that he had no choice, because we had agreed long ago to not go this route.

And I believed him... that was the sucker punch part.

I believed him partly because I just don't play dirty, so my mind doesn't work like that; and partly because it turns my stomach to think that I gave 5 years of my life and had an amazing child with someone who is that heartless and greedy.

Yeah, I said it. Greedy. Chew on that one as you read it, his allies, you know who you are. And as much as you want to defend him; I promise you my viewpoint is well earned. So tell ya what, in 5 years come back and talk to me about whether or not I'm accurate.

Enough of the stand and defend; God knows what He knows and He will handle this.

I have my responsibility to handle and I will. It just means a total life shift including dropping school and losing what little time I have to spend with my son, but hey, that's just how it looks right now.

I'm human and my view is limited to these options. God's view is Universal and is not bound by such things.

Anyway, this will not dim my glow. This will NOT end me. God has brought me this far and I am walking in faith here.

And I have amazing friends who have held me up when my knees went out from under me this morning. Thank you all... you're incredible and I love you.

God knows what I need, and He will send it... hopefully on swift wings; but whenever it comes, it will be at the right time.

Have a great day y'all... whenever you read this.

Until next time... blessings!

Excuse Me Father, Have You Seen My Habit

2011-07-26T16:47:00.000-05:00

Image by SEOULMAN66 via FlickrWell, I've been living something of a monastic lifestyle these past weeks.

I quit smoking... yes again... and by the Grace of God for the last damn time.

I gave up soft drinks and mix-sweet drinks for bottled water.

I eat quite sparingly and started exercising; at this rate I'll be bikini ready by labor day... ok, for reals, Halloween.

And last night my job was so So SO frustrating to me that I all but flipped the bird at the camera and walked out... which, of course, I didn't do because I enjoy the finer things in life... like a roof over my head and the ability to wash clothes with soap.

But I came home in this funk... this kinda pissy, quick-witted, snapperish, funk.

So when I woke up with it as well... exacerbated by a phone call from child support trying to get more money that I don't have and don't know how to make... yeah, it was time to get off my dead ass and go back to church... for like the third or fourth time this week.

Cause this week's been pretty sucky... emotionally, mentally, psychically, situationally...

And I started back to school yesterday. After a huge long leave of absence that I took when the computer died.

So when I was in church this morning and God told me not to get on facebook or yahoo chat today, in fact not speak to or text anyone other than my one friend who is going through it due to a death in the family, I of course said ~~OUCH~~ Yessir. I knew it was a sacrifice of one day that I had to give God.

So I'm sitting in quiet meditation and cooking quasi-real food for the first time in weeks and this post and my school website are the only places I've actively gone to on the web (yahoo homepage doesn't count!).

And I know that this break from the world will help me... recharge my batteries, reset my priorities, clean my spirit, and increase my glow.

And just like quitting smoking, I'm in full blown day one withdrawals. *eyetwitch* I'm ITCHING to goto chat! I remembered three songs I wanted to look up on YouTube,*eyetwitch* I know certain friends have posted on facebook and I'm fidgeting with anticipation, and to top it off, I promised someone last night that I would call today.*eyetwitch*

But all these things will be there tomorrow... or they will not. And either way, I promised God and He will work it out for my benefit. I simply have to get through the DT's. *eyetwitch*

I'm going to go lie down for a few before I come back to my schoolwork...

OMFG, I can't even go on facebook to make sure that networked blogs picks this up and posts it!

*groankillmenowgroan*

God owes me... this is worse than quittin' cigs....

Impasse

2011-07-19T21:10:00.003-05:00

Image by Guerito via FlickrI found myself in a precarious position this morning.

Then my angels showed me a vision, and I knew I was at an impasse.

I could either take the path to my right, which appeared clean and neat and pulled together. The concrete was solid, the path was lined with shiny store-bought things. It was easily traveled, and appeared to be a safe, well cared for route.

Then there was the path to my left which looked untended. The grey cobblestones missing in places, and the vines and trees grown wild and unruly on the sides. I knew if I took this path, I'd have to watch and take each step carefully. Not many had traveled here because of the way it seemed to be; forgotten and unkempt. And in the situation of it, this path seemed cold and unwelcoming.

Instinctively, I knew that the path to the right, although it appeared easier... led to a dead end.

Whereas, the path to the left would lead to the castle... the dream of the desired outcome.

And I chose the left path.

And in so doing, the path reached up to greet me and make my way easier than it had appeared.

I knew without doubt or fail that the path on the right would have been a struggle and a fight no matter how easy it appeared. I had actually been on that path in my long ago past and was grateful to not have to repeat that journey.

I am happy, and once again sure of my direction. The path is actually quite easy despite looking difficult, because it is the correct one. And instinctively, I knew I wanted the overgrown path no matter what it seemed like.

This all happened in the span of a moment.

In retrospect it was the road less traveled, the one that will bring the true reward. In retrospect, it was a choice that only wisdom would bring me to.... and I am grateful.

Serial Teddy Holder

2011-07-18T11:23:00.003-05:00

So I was over on facebook *shocker* when I saw this pic from All Posters and it got me to thinking.

First of all, everyone needs someone to hold onto even if it is only once in a while.

Secondly, as adults, we tend to eschew teddy bears for the live version and call them boyfriends or girlfriends or spouses or kids.

But when do you become a serial-holder? A so-called teddy junkie.

I guess it's when you bounce from one teddy to the next without taking time to hug yourself.

But how many people out there take the time to hug themselves? Most that I've known, including myself, have gone from one teddy to the next; sometimes quite rapidly...

So I wonder if any of us are capable of laying down our teddies.

When I fought with my ex-husband I had girlfriends I could hold on to. When I got single, I found another man to hold on to. When neither man nor friends were available I have held onto God.

I'm starting to think we all hold something; people, hobbies, money, habits, an online existence... something that, if lost, would make it difficult for us to cope with having to live our lives.

Even when it hasn't appeared so, there is something in the situation that will qualify it as a quick bounce. A person quits living with one person and moves in with another is an obvious one. Someone quits smoking only to start exercising compulsively is considered a healthy one. Someone swears off television but starts spending hours on the computer playing online games. One teddy substituting for another teddy.

I don't know of anyone who doesn't fit this pattern of holding and substitution. Some are less obvious, but are teddies nonetheless. Breakup of a marriage and a guy restores a vintage vehicle while the woman takes up running. Teddy substitutes for the spouse they no longer have.

So, is the human race simply a collection of serial teddy holders?

Electronic Conspiracy (yes I am loosing my mind, thank you so very much for asking)

2011-07-18T01:08:00.003-05:00

Image by ComputerMonger via Flickr
I've been away a long time. Turns out Best Buy finally confirmed what I had long suspected... my shiny, honey colored, beautiful, beloved computer... my Juliet... was a lemon.

Thanks to Tex-ex's neurotic need to have the most Gucci of service warranties on all electronics purchases, I now have a new computer.

I'm grateful.

At least that's what I'm telling myself everytime I want to pitch this *tantrum voice* You-are-not-Juliet! computer into a wall.

Like when I goto log onto firefox, and the background is black with black font and I can't do a fucking thing. Or when I pull up the right click menu in firefox and that is white background on white font and the only thing I can do is shut it down and I have to open the windows task manager to do that cause I cannot find where to confirm the close cause the font is the same color as the background in the confirmation box that pops up....

Mind you this is after it works fine all night and I turn off the computer and come back in the morning to what is essentially a dead program since I cannot read anything on the screen.

Are ya gettin the visual of me loosin my everloving mind? As I uninstall firefox, clear the cache and SSL slate and start over with an entirely new install of firefox... replete with the xmarks and last pass add ons because I have years of saved shit on there that I cannot get into without these programs.

Yeah, you got it.... Fucking nightmare... over and over and over and over for two weeks plus.

But I'm not bitter. Noooooo ~~blatant sarcasm~~. I just miss my gorgeous little dysfunctional lemon Juliet.

I miss her. With all her eccentricities and delicate constitution, I knew how to work her. I understood her programs. I knew what files were where, and most of all, I was fully cognizant and willing to work around her problems... cause I loved her.

I brought her in to be fixed, and essentially gave Best Buy the license to perform euthanasia.

And because electronics have a hidden message system whereby they talk to each other and exact revenge upon a person for mistreatment of one electronic device by the refusal to work by another electronic device, I have been targeted as enemy numero uno.

How shall I put it? The dryers at the laundromat have gone renegade and have all turned against me. And all is not a euphemism. Every single dryer I put my clothes into stops working.

I even fought with the manager the other morning, which really isn't my style anymore, but I kinda snapped because for the third visit in a row, the dryers have sucked up my quarters like starving Lestat on a morally corrupt person and spit me out much time and money poorer.

$5, in 5 dryers on three separate visits.

I was round the bloody bend.

And we all know shit rolls downhill, so I went rounds with the manager. Who finally, albeit reluctantly, reimbursed me for SEVENTY FIVE CENTS (not $5!) and made sure the dryer was working. Then he left and went back to the quickie mart next door.

25 minutes later while the dryer is still spinning, I check on it and IT'S COLD and *Gomer Pyle voice* suuu-prihze suuu-prihze suuu-prihze... not drying.

Shocker. Except to me. I told you these fucking dryers are conspiring and have decided that I am not worthy of heat or dry clothes or whatever, because I put Juliet to death. What I knew was; I was not about to pay to go home with wet clothes.. again.

So I went and got mister manager for the second time that hour, who now with a magnanimous change of heart *coughbitemejackwagoncough* because that dryer was not hot; the dryer that HE set and HE turned on and HE verified 25 minutes earlier as working after he put SEVENTY FIVE CENTS (not $5!) into the cursed, wretched, beast; so he chose another dryer for me, we swapped the clothes over and he fed the ravenous metal beast another three quarters.

Duh. I just enjoy arguing with people so veryveryvery much that I felt the urge to fabricate the quarter eating story about his precious dryers.

In my less enlightened state I mighta winged the roll of quarters at his head when he turned to walk away... Allegedly.

But I don't have time for jail or court, because, as it stands, I still need to find a copy of microsoft office 2007 or higher to install on my *tantrum voice* You-are-not-Juliet! computer so I can start back to school on the 25th. And I don't know what happened to my zemanta add on for this blog either, nor can I seem to find it. (ok, just found THAT one missing piece outta 1000!)

My sister would call it transition.

I call it a pain in the ass that I still have the presence of mind to be grateful for.

*screws on my Barbie smile and looks at Ken for confirmation*

Getting Off the Roller Coaster

2011-06-10T10:14:00.000-05:00

Image via Wikipedia*sigh*

I was tired of the roller coaster... and the whirlwind surrounding it.

I mean really? Have you ever been up at the top of one of those rides in high winds? How about going through one of those monster loops? Even roller coaster enthusiasts will admit that shit's scary.

It's also a little infuriating. To think that God has sent your One and you realize that your evolved, peace-loving life has just hooked up with someone who wants to fight the world, and most people in it... up to and including you.

There's only so long you can live like Cleopatra in that situation... eventually, you have to get off denial... so I broke it off.

But then he fought for me!

Which any romantic comedy movie buff will tell you, is an incredible ego rush and ooohhhey-gooey goes the heart strings and ya fold like cheap lawn furniture.

Yeah, what they don't show you after the first make-up kiss is that the problems that lead to the breakup in the first place still exist. Not only that, since you've been 'won back', you are basically saying that you accept those problems and can deal with them because you have returned.

But I couldn't.

I'm too far gone in my walk to stop and fight with, or even say, "Hi" to everyone I come across. I no longer seek personal retaliation for the slights shown me. I simply pray for them and let the Universe handle them as I move on down the line.

It's a much happier way to live... I know... I used to box everyone. I wore my anger and discontent like an oozing second skin. And when I was released from that personal hell, I swore never to return, and by the Grace of God, I have not.

Not personally, that is.

But it's just as hard for an empath to watch someone they love behave like a Viking in front of them daily. It's kinda like watching an exercise video and feeling the burn while you're sitting on the couch... Again, sounds great in theory, but not so much in the actual.

At first I thought I had found my champion, just like Liz Gilbert... over time, it wore me out. He kept seeing attacks where I saw none, and his foul moods lead to my falling into the holes of his funks.

It's kinda hard to cuddle with someone who always has their swords drawn.

After a brief reconciliation, I broke it off yesterday. I had to. I saw where it was headed... and I'm ugly as hell when I'm miserable... but see, I wasn't all the way there to miserable just yet.

So the breakup sucks as much for me as it does for him... even though I instigated it, even though I know it's for the best, even though my angels were screaming in my ears so loudly I could not buck them anymore.

It still hurts. I still feel dizzy, and queasy, and wobble-legged like I wanna reach out and take his hand to help steady me. But I can't; I won't. Doing so would only cruelly prolong the inevitable.

At least I've learned that much. Painful lesson that it is.

*sigh*

Getting My Ghetto Drunk On

2011-06-02T22:17:00.000-05:00

Image by Jeff Kubina via FlickrOMG I so needed to get drunk last night.

I don't drink anymore... as a pretty general and airtight rule... but I was due.

Oh so due.

Could I afford a case of Michelob?

No.

A 12-pack of Bud Light?

Not quite.

A six-pack of Mickey's Big Mouths, for fuck's sake?

Guess again, chief.

I know I have enough left for something alcoholic, but what? So I go into the quickie-mart next to the laundromat determined to scope out my possibilities. It was hot as fuck and I wasn't buyin anything till the laundry was done, and I could take it straight home and get as plastered as I was capable of getting.

I happen to have a friend that's a chef, so I texted him after narrowing it down to two choices and asked him:

Magnum or Old English?

I know they're both swill, but I was down to $2.25 in laundry quarters and I wanted the most bang for my buck.

Hey, if you hear a noise in your car and you happen to be friends with a mechanic, you pull into his or her driveway while he or she is outside... hoping the mechanic in them will take pity on the friend you are and tell ya to pop the hood.

So when ya gotta pick one ghetto 40 over another and ya don't have money to waste getting your buzz, ya tap into your vast array of lushes or chef friends and ask the question.

Old English won.

It really wasn't as bad as I expected.

As I sucked down three ice-cold coffee mugs *bowls* in very rapid succession...

I'm too white to drink it straight outta the bottle without a friend to pass it to on the porch, ya know?

Note to fellow non-drinkers in need of a little lush time; keeping the 40 in the freezer between glasses both keeps it deliciously cold, and also allows you to gauge your drunkeness as you go back for refills. If you ever go back for a refill and the beer is frozen or you can't find the kitchen, it's time to stop.

Yeap, got schnnockered in no time.

Even passed out and got a full night of much needed sleep.

Best $2.04 I ever spent.

I Blame the Garden Gnomes

2011-05-30T19:23:00.000-05:00

Image via WikipediaI think garden gnomes are beating me up in my sleep.

Nothing else makes sense.

How in the hell did I bruise my foot while I attained my less than 4 hours of sleep last night? It's on the side of the heel back behind the instep, below the ankle.

Whaaaat thaaaa....???

I don't have a bed, so I didn't slam it on a bedpost. I don't sleep next to the wall, so I probably couldn't have done it that way... besides, I think that would have hurt enough to wake me up.

But garden gnomes... yeah, those little bastards are crafty and malicious enough to do something like this.

They know how to be silent and stealthy.

And, they are always posed holding something that looks like it can take out your knees in one blow.

They can return to their daytime poses deftly with hardly a thought; no human the wiser.

But I know.

Truth is, those crafty little buggers are jealous of our height and just itching with their wrinkled-faced-odd-nosed selves to get even.

They're responsible for all manner of quirky unknowns in the human world:

How come only one sock of the pair came out of the dryer?

Garden gnomes.

Where'd that pen go? It was just here!

Garden gnomes.

How the hell did my cell phone bill get so high? I live alone, don't have teen-agers, and really don't remember calling Germany at 3am on what appears to be a Tuesday...

Garden gnomes.

The unexplainable bruise on the weird spot on my heel that seems very unnaturally attainable because of it's odd location...

Garden gnomes.

They're the cosa nostra of weird WTF's. It's a complete network that spans the globe... except for Japan, I don't think they've infiltrated Japan yet because of the Yakuza.

And don't be fooled into thinking you own a garden gnome (or 6). No, you harbor them, and deserve jail time under the RICO law guidelines.

Behind those wry little smiles and sometimes scary European countenances, they're conspiring their next plot and laughing at you. Those wee, glassy-eyed fugitives from accountability.

One day it will happen to you.

So mark my words: Garden gnomes.

Because once you become the victim of their shenanigans, you will remember reading this and I won't seem quite so crazy.

Damn

2011-05-30T00:28:00.000-05:00

Image via WikipediaUggg.

This week I am once again training in receiving at work.

I like this department even though receiving is early morning shift.

There's a fair bit of freedom that I enjoyed when I originally trained for it a while back... before they sold the store and learning the old system made no sense anymore.

Small problem... I've been on swings for so long now, that I cannot fall asleep.

I have lain in the ~~not really a~~ bed for two hours... unexpected texts and phone calls not withstanding.

I have tried to meditate, done reiki and gotten ~~as comfortable as the floor can be~~ comfortable...

I even got up early this morning despite going to bed very late last night in anticipation of needing to be asleep early tonight.

I haven't had caffeine since noonish.

Nothing is working.

I'm awake.

Like bing-bing-bing friggin Ricochet Rabbit awake.

I have to learn how to input UPC codes and scan incoming inventory from multiple vendors among other things for 8 hours not including lunch break... and then I have to do laundry at the laundromat and read at least two chapters for school tomorrow night...

And no, can't do it tonight cause the laundromat is closed and the words of my psych chapters are all just swimming on the page... see, I tried.

Coffee is going to have it's work cut out for it in the morning. I'm gonna be so bleary-eyed I'll be lucky to not miss the toilet.

Coffee's gonna have to get me through the first five hours before I can come home and drink more to get me through the rest.

Thank God it adds IQ points, because with the amount I'll lose in the sleep deprivation, I might, MIGHT, break even... maybe.

Then again, maybe with enough coffee, I'll have a surplus of IQ points...

I'll just have to prove my brilliance from the bathroom.

Guess that beats falling asleep on the loaves of pillowy looking bread when that's delivered.

And to top it off, receiving is going to be HOT (which will make me more sleepy), cause South Texas has been so hot, the native Texans are commenting... and that's just one of the joys of living in this muggy hell-hole... along with bugs the size of Cadillacs.

I think maybe it's just possible I'm getting a little sleep-deprived bitchy.

Sometimes You Have to Duke it Out With Yourself

2011-05-28T13:32:00.000-05:00

Image by nogoodreason via FlickrOh the conflict raging through my head this morning.

Thought it was absolutely going to break me.

The mud... the dank foul mud of my mind... both sides of my wants and needs sparring it out with nuclear warheads of rationality and emotion.

Couldn't seem to find clarity to save myself.

Tears...pain...prayers...and more cigarettes than one person should consume in a week, let alone a morning...

I called in for outside refereeing and got only the help of verbalizing what was tangled up in my skull... the logical aspects of the situation with which I was wrestling, and the emotional doubts and fears that were being hurled back and forth.

And then my ref's cell service broke up.

Cause sometimes God wants it that way... so the decision is your own and not a byproduct of suggestion by another.

A few hours later, in one deft strike of unequivocal clarity... it was over.

I am once again sure of my path.

I was on it all along, I just needed to be reminded why it was the right one.

Cause that 'grass is always greener' stuff is some tricky optical illusion shit.

And to quote a very wise woman: "Sometimes the potholes look like sinkholes, but they really aren't unless you make them so."

My Version of Braveheart

2011-05-20T11:21:00.000-05:00

Image via WikipediaMiracles never cease.

I left the California-ex (Josie's dad) over five years ago.

Shortly thereafter, I met Tex-ex, moved to Texas and found out I was pregnant with our son.

All these many years later, I decided back in February that I was going to get my divorce finalized this summer come hell or high water.

Last night, out of the blue, Cali-ex calls me up and wants to finalize the divorce.

I'm so happy I can't stop smiling, bouncing around... loving the life God has bestowed upon me...

In just a little bit of awe and amazement.

I stand tall, face painted and shout a-la William Wallace:

FRREEEEEEEEEDDOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!!!

Finally... graced with this ending and the new beginnings it signifies.

And then God did something else... He picked me up again.

For those brief moments, sitting in His hand once again... I saw and understood it all one more time.

A reminder of when I sat in His hand while I was begging Him to let me leave Cali-ex.

An affirmation that I am in His grace always, and a reminder of why I was shown in the first place...

Thing about sitting in God's hand; you understand everything.... everything about how the world works and the why... from personal and global relationships to how photosynthesis works. And then He puts you down, and you promptly forget, because such understanding is reserved for God alone; but the experience changes you forever.

And last night, God gave me a much shorter sit... a reminder of that, a confirmation of my path, my purpose, my direction.

Amen and Hallelujah... and Freedom.

...and the happy dance!

Scheduling

2011-05-14T15:49:00.000-05:00

Image via WikipediaSometimes, it simply comes down to a matter of scheduling.

In case you're new, scheduling is not ~~in any way shape or form my forte' and can only be done with mediocre aptitude under penalty of death or exorbitant payout~~ my strong point.

If I look at the entire work schedule for all the employees at my job for a week, my head swims.

And it's put together by a guy who manages to stay under payroll budget while being fair about hours to 24 people and honoring requests for days off Every Week... and the job of scheduling is basically a footnote in his job description.

I have trouble managing to complete a total of 2 checkpoints, 4 discussion questions, and 8 replies to classmates over the course of a 7 day week.

Not because the work is difficult...because I suck that much at scheduling.

Add in daily existence needs like showering, feeding myself, doing housework and going to the laundromat every two days for clean work clothes... or the want-to's like making time for my kids, or my boyfriend, or anyone that is not a customer in my work life, and I'm pretty much a scheduling time bomb with a lit fuse.

Something is going to be forgotten or suffer the consequences of my ineptitude.

People that manage to create a schedule and stick to it with any regularity amaze and astound me... like an exhibit at the zoo or a P.T. Barnum spectacle-spectacular.

I mean, I can do it too, but only, maybe, kinda-sorta, once a week... possibly... probably closer to ~~never~~ once a month.

I don't even own a calendar except for the one that's built into my cellphone.

Oh wait, my computer has one too, I just never remember to look at it.

If it weren't for work, birthdays, and holidays, I'd have no idea what day it was... ever. It's not like I watch TV other than a movie here and there anymore.

No more Matt, Meredith, Ann, and Al informing me of the day and date.

Glee is available for internet viewing when I need ~~a gleek junkie fix~~ to catch up because I cannot manage to even catch the show on television even when I'm not working...

The only problem with viewing back episodes, or anything that does not consist of going to work in order to make money and pay bills, is finding the time... cause I have none... because I can't schedule worth a damn.

Are ya seein' the pattern here?

Maybe I should take a workshop ~~another in a long list of many, many attempts at getting a handle on this crippling defect in my personality~~ on time management.

I'll put it on the ~~non-existent~~ schedule.

Because Sometimes Life Comes Too Fast to Blog It All

2011-04-15T10:24:00.000-05:00

Image by notsogoodphotography via FlickrThis post is such a random summary of what's up lately, that I figured a completely non-specific pic would be apropos.

OK, so to update y'all, the letter to the roomie was a resounding success. We patched things up that afternoon. But I'm still moving out today.

I found one apartment that would make a ghetto look like shangri-la. Seriously. There were bugs in the bathroom, the window unit was so poorly done that I could see the outside around it, and I was going to get charged an extra $10 a month because it had a refrigerator.

Yeah, WTF?

It was so depressing I almost went emo.

Instead I contacted a friend from church about a place he had mentioned, and I will look at it today. I'm very hopeful because it sounds nice. And I'm incredibly grateful because my aunt has sent some funds to help ensure I get it in a timely manner.

I also have gone through some incredible relationship changes in the last weeks.

I have weeded out all that was not working for me and was left with a friend I consider the brother I never had, and a new boyfriend who is awesome.

Managed to finally find one that is legally and emotionally available, I don't have to censor myself in front of, and who calms me... did I mention that he's crazy about me and doesn't play games about it? It's pretty fucking amazing.

And the brother-friend and the boyfriend talked yesterday while I was at work and they want to light the roomie on fire for bootin' me out for his girlfriend.

Which made my day... even if I'd never let em do it.

Been also having some incredible spiritual breakthroughs and I'm sure they will only progress as I settle in to my own place. Having my own home tends to have profound effects on me.

And school resumes on the 25th. Which I'm looking forward to, but mostly because I'm ready to be done with my AA in a field that I wouldn't detest doing for more than 30 seconds.

Well I have to go, I'm moving, looking at apartments, and doing a large number of run-around things while watching my son today.

Blessings to all... and hey, maybe the next post will actually have a point, or a plot, or something more interesting to say than just a rundown of what's up at the moment.

Here's hopin'!

Dear Roomie

2011-04-10T12:07:00.000-05:00

Image by ZedZaP (great to be back ) via FlickrWell readers, I have to move again. I don't have a set place yet, but one is coming, of that I am certain.

My time here has set and a new day is dawning... yet again.

I'm about two weeks from having funds to get settled. That doesn't worry me as much as the way my awesome roomie has decided to behave over the last 10 days. I am leaving him this letter in response to a post-it that he left me this morning telling me to be out on Friday 5/15/11. He meant 4/15/11, I had no need to check the calendar.

Dear W~

I do not know what I have done to deserve your hostility. I guess it's because that is the only way you have ever had anyone leave your home. But you have no need of it with me. Rest assured, I will leave as I came: Grateful-for your kindness, generosity, and hospitality; and Hopeful- that I have not been too much of a burden. Everything that I have brought into the house to replace what I have used is yours to keep.

I only pray for your happiness, and if that is being with S, then I pray that God gives you both many years of love and joyousness together.

As far as details of the move; I only have off Monday 4/11 and Friday 4/15. I will do my best to remove my items during the week, but may have to leave some items until Friday. I hope that is alright; but I will be vacated by Friday afternoon at the latest. If you are not here, I will leave the key on the breakfast bar and lock up when I go.

Thank you again~
Aria

Pray for me readers... I'll write as I can until I'm re-settled. Blessings!

Not Failing to Communicate in Education

2011-04-01T11:11:00.000-05:00

Image via WikipediaSo, thanks to my wonderful friend Joan at The Retirement Chronicles, I have an appointment with my academic advisor this morning to discuss changing my major.

Joan made a comment on the last post and suggested journalism...

I was like *heel of hand pop to the forehead* I Shoulda Had a V-8!!!

I guess at the time, Health Care Administration seemed like a great fit. I grew up with two excellent nurses, so we had a medical encyclopedia in the house, and medical terminology was commonplace; not to mention that we would watch those graphic 70's PBS specials where they did eye surgery on film.

I hated those things, and yet they entranced me... kind of like car wrecks on the freeway.

So, I knew nursing was never an option, but the paperwork side of it, yeah! I mean, if I'm trained on how to handle certain paperwork, I'm a friggin savant at it.

Hence, the bookkeeper position at work.... but I digress...

Therefore, the admin side of health care seemed to fit; take a lifetime's worth of informal training and match it with something you're naturally good at... No Brainer!

And that's why no brainers can be a bad idea.

Well, now that my brain has engaged, it's time for a change.

And writing just makes me happy... I guess that's why I like texting and emailing as opposed to talking.

So my advisor has turned me on to communications.

Which sounds like it will right up my alley.

Hopefully.

I know it can't be worse than insurance forms.

It may even give me an excuse to be online every waking moment that I'm not at work.

Which totally works for me.

So we'll see how this goes... and I'll keep y'all posted, because I'm a natural born communicator.

A Crisis of Education

2011-03-26T12:37:00.000-05:00

Image by pirate johnny via FlickrWhen I started school, I loved it.

What's not to love?

I was living in tight quarters with a man I was constantly at war with, a child who was completely out of control because he's psychic as hell and was living in a war zone, no job, no friends, and a desperate need to not put a gun in my mouth.

School seemed like a productive escape from all of it, with the possibility at the end to rise above where I had been in my professional life.

And I was good at it...

Well, as good as a person in extreme stress can be when they add more stress to their life...

But I racked-up a GPA of 9.96 without really trying.

I managed to get the assignments in on time and just write in my normal fashion for the rest of it. Although, I'd start my 100 point, 1500 word, Sunday assignments on Sunday morning with my coffee and stress everyone else out because I waited till the last moment (what can I say, not my finest set of hours).

A's... even in Critical Thinking... and I was calling my academic advisor scared that I was tanking the class (to which she laughed, and asked if I currently had a B).

I made plans and set goals to have my Master's by the time I turned 45 and be a hospital administrator until I retired.

Then my life blew up, and somehow, by the Grace of God, I passed Pathology without a final. Then the next round of classes came up and... I got through them, but not well.

I was living in my car without electricity and working around the library's schedule for internet access. It was something to maintain my focus, and again, keep me from going completely kazoo. It gave me an obligation, and I needed it, so I muddled through.

I absolutely detested my Management of Information Systems class. The reading would put an insomniac to sleep in 12.2 seconds, and I don't care the least little bit about the intricacies of IT an how it relates to a business structure. I passed (surprising me fully with a C-) but by now my GPA was down to 3.39.

Then I started this block. And I decided that GPA didn't matter, I wasn't going to stress myself out anymore about school and rocking awesome grades like my sister who is milliseconds away from obtaining her bachelors degree with a sterling GPA and recognition from the college and it's faculty members alike.

I just wanted to get through it... get my AA and see where I stood from there.

But I don't have a miserable life anymore. I have a nice place to live, a job I enjoy, friends to visit, the possibility of love out there somewhere, a son that's become even more incredible and amazing and a real pleasure to be around since he's not living in a war zone, a daughter who is a few months from 13 and needs more time input from her Mom, and Joy, and God, and a healthy relationship with myself.

And my classes are Algebra and Insurance Claims Forms Billing I.

Algebra, no problem, I can breeze through that if I want to... problem is, I haven't wanted to.

And Insurance Claims...? That personifies what I find wrong with most of the medical profession in a big fat billion-dollar nutshell. And it's easy, but I hate it for it's implications on the world that this American lives in.

So I completely rocked week one, and have been checking in ever since, only making the attendance requirement. Still enrolled, but not actively participating.

Or giving a damn, for that matter.

And I woke up this morning because this was the planned day to get my scholastic self together and get back to it; to somehow salvage this week of grades, and do enough to pass the classes and move on.

Except, I realized something: the only thing left in my life that was really making me miserable was school.

The only class that I actually enjoyed, the entire time I've been doing this...even when I was getting straight A's, was World Religions.

I don't enjoy school, and what's more, I hate Healthcare. It's a mess of bureaucratic bullshit that has the temerity to call itself helping people, when what it really does is give the barest essentials of help to real people, for a staggering amount of money that winds up breaking the financial lives of anyone that truly needs help.

Don't get me wrong, some of the doctors and nurses are still good people with a real desire to help others.

But, most of the tech's in the offices just wanted to stop working as cashiers and make more than minimum wage, and only focus on showing up, to make their paychecks, not on the patients as people.

And, the system of it, is a greedy corporate machine and it makes me want to spew obscenities and hurl things with great force.

I have no desire or passion to be in that. Unlike my multi-degree'd sister, who feels like she finally found her calling, and her degrees are a means to an end of doing exactly what she loves doing.

Conversely, the more I learn about the intricacies of medicine and health care, the more infuriated I become at the system.

And I know the saying about keeping your enemies close, but it's just not working for me.

So I'm having a crisis of education. And I'm in turmoil about it. And I just want it to be over, but I'm not sure I have the will to plow through to the end.

Prayers are appreciated... Pray that I get this crisis of education figured out before it breaks me. Because it is either going to break me financially, mentally, or in the area of self-esteem depending on whether I stay or go.

And right now, I'm so on-the-fence, that my butt hurts.

Out of Control and Back Again

2011-03-25T12:54:00.000-05:00

Image by JDB Photos via FlickrI know there was a planetary thing going on. Was it all due to Super Moon? I have no idea.

Whatever it was, I could feel it.

I was off the chain, and so were a lot of people I know.

That which was buried deep within us, was rearing it's heads, fully, wholly, and uncontrollably.

Some were angry and frustrated with the world to new heights, some were depressed to new depths of low. Some took areas of interest and ran unchecked head-long into them. Some were unable to control their libidos...

It was a virtual frenzy of internal shit-storm that rose to the surface and swam over our lives; our own crashing into that of those around us and causing a swell that wiped us all out in one fashion or another.

Then last night, it was over. With the flick of some cosmic switch.

And we're all left cleaning up the disaster areas that our thoughts, words, and actions have spawned.

Consequences to be faced in the light of renewed control.

Personally, I can look at my frenzy and accept that those things sprang to the surface from somewhere buried so deeply within myself that I was unaware that they existed.

A purge of sorts... of the heart and soul and spirit... and not a pretty one.

Leaving me today to deal with what I have wrought with some embarrassment and regret. Regret not for my actions or words, because I was helpless to do or say or be otherwise.

The regret is for the effects I have had on others during that state, and the inevitable changes to dealing with those effects with the return to normalcy.

So I go through, apologetically, cutting ties and making amends and trying to put the pieces back together in a healthy and productive manner.

However unsure I may be as to the long term outcomes and what I must face about myself; my own wants, needs, desires, and head-space.

The key for me is forgiveness of self. Acceptance of that which bubbled forth from my depths, and contemplation of how those things fit into the visions I have for my existence; and how to go forward with this new-found knowledge of myself...

As uncomfortably revealing as it may be.

Sometimes, I guess, the only way to grow as a person is to surprise yourself to a level bordering on shocking...and occasionally dancing over that line.

So, whatever you have experienced during the planetary shift... learn from it. Use it to grow into a more fully realized image of yourself.

May God show us all the purposes, and guide us while we are picking up our respective pieces.

Sucking Down a Cuppa Awareness and Trying Not to Choke

2011-03-22T11:12:00.001-05:00

Image by Stuck in Customs via FlickrSo I was over on facebook (I know, shocker!) and my friend made a comment on one of my statuses that both made me laugh and made me stop dead in my tracks...

She offered me a cup of awareness.

Ouch, Hallelujah!

How fucking clueless have I been? Oh only this much *stretches arms wide like a little kid*

My evolved may not be so evolved in some areas... one in particular.

Love relationships.

Although, the last three months has taught me a lot about why my past relationships form a pattern of similarity, I still haven't gotten to the point where I'm able to stop making the mistakes.

Even though I recognize them now and can express them clearly, I still fight with myself about the follow through when it comes to changing the behaviors.

But, it's time for change... I've undergone so many so fast, I guess I just expected them all to happen that quickly... but God only gifts ya so much before you have to do the actual leg work.

Sometimes, you have to suck down that cup of awareness and admit that the one you think you want is incapable of giving you what you need.

...that, for whatever reason you think you want to hang on, it simply will not work. That person is not your one, because it is simply too much frustration and work.

I know what happens when it doesn't work for me. I get ugly. I become hostile because the person I have chosen to hang on to does not do what I need him to do for me.

He doesn't communicate in the way that I need for my heart to feel safe and then my communications shut down as well.

He isn't there when I think that a partner should be there to support me in my times of pain or weakness, so I stop showing that side of myself.

In short, the walls of protective anger grow up around my wounded insides and the moat of hostility grows ever wider and deeper until it becomes wholly impassable.

Except, I always want them to cross it, and scale the walls; charging in, colors flying, sword held high and I fall for every attempt they make wanting so much for it to be different.

It never is.

Once the pattern is set it's done for. All back-tracking and lovey times from then on are short-lived and doomed to failure.

Don't get me wrong, I've learned that if we (me and Mr. whoever the hell you are, where the fuck are you anyway?) can discuss issues as they arise, communicate well and healthily and the behaviors are changed as they come up (cause sometimes you just don't know you're dancing all over someone's issues until it is discussed), then the relationship can stay healthy, and caring, and loving, and connected...

All the things that grown-ups need to build their real-life version of the fairy -tale relationship... the one based in reality, that has its ups-and-downs because life isn't all Skittles and beer, but is still solid, safe, comfortable, respectful, and yes, even lusty... even when you're doing the laundry and taking out the trash.

I just haven't found the one that can do that with me.

But somewhere, somehow, I know he's out there.

Because the Universe is a creature of balance, and balance comes in pairs.

I guess I just haven't evolved enough to find him...

YET.

How Many People are in That Body of Yours Anyway?

2011-03-19T13:05:00.000-05:00

Image via WikipediaI'm starting to wonder that very question.

To say, "one" is to limit yourself, to say higher numbers draws the attention of mental health professionals.

But really, aren't we all more than one person?

We have our private side, that is known only to us and whatever universal force we subscribe to (mine is called God, and is a He...what can I say, I was raised Roman Catholic... feel free to substitute whatever moniker rings with your truth). We have our intimate relationship side that only our significant other sees. We have our parenting side, our work persona, our under the influence side (pick any type of personality altering drug or drink), our in-real-life public side, our online public side... the list goes on...

So it is with a great amount of amusement that I face raised eyebrows for being so admittedly spiritual and still having a fair number of 'bad' habits.

How can I have God in all of my life and still smoke, or cuss, or want sex, or any other thing that religiously repressed people consider unGodly?

Well, that's easy (for me anyway)... I allow for the complexities of myself.

The good and the bad ones.

Some things about me are evolved and advanced and I am grateful for them.

Other things about me are in need of change... I simply accept them as part of myself until God starts dealing with me about them.

I don't hate myself because the Bible says that I should not do something that I do.

I work with God to build, hone, and maintain my own personal moral compass.

I think, so far, it's a pretty good one... but not perfect... I can stand to change and in some areas I should... eventually.

But everything we see as an imperfection within ourselves, is not there to make us look in the mirror with loathing. Even those imperfections are put within us so that we may follow our journey, our path, His call for our life.

If I hadn't been such an angry energy in my earlier years, maybe I'd have been open to attacks that would have changed the course of my life. Maybe that black-tar of hostility was actually a shield for me to walk through my life.

I'm glad that it is gone now, and I only have occasional bouts of situational anger, but all those years that I was vibrating with viciousness, it probably saved the life that I now enjoy.

So I will not shy away from ranting when it is warranted, just because God has brought me through to a different state of being.

He didn't want us to be doormats for the world to wipe their feet upon. A little anger can be healthy. So can a lot of other 'bad' things when they're kept in balance.

So accept yourself; gifts, faults and everything in-between.

The life you save, may well be your own.

Life Isn't Quite the Suckfest It Once Was... An Update... Finally

2011-03-18T23:36:00.000-05:00

Image by Getty Images via @daylifeWell, well... it only took two months to update again... But this time it's a new dawn in an internet connected place to live... for real... for a while... until I can get my own.

For those of you who do not do facebook (or follow me there), let me catch you up... quickly...

Which is probably not really fair to those of you that only know me here, and for that I apologize for the gyp, but rehashing two months of this crazy life of mine, as fun as that may sound, is boring as hell for me, so I'll give ya the highlights and hope you can forgive me and follow along, since I will be blogging much more regularly once again...

In between working, and school, and spending time with my son (who still lives with his father but visits regularly now), and trying to piece together an actual life that does not solely consist of sitting in front of the computer on my days off.

What can I say... I'm a rebel.

I still believe in Real Life beyond the screen despite it's many pitfalls and the insanity of the world at large.

I've changed... reborn you might say... but you already knew that... so let me tell you what you may not know....

I got a place to stay with a friend of Tx-ex's. I moved in on Valentine's Day night. He gave me a key to the house the next morning. He's the best roomie ever.

EV-AR. Hands down... and that includes my sister when we were kids.

We are not a couple.

It's one of the healthiest non-relationships of my life.

I got a job two days later at the local grocery store. I was hired as a closing bookkeeper and cashier. The people are awesome and a month later, I still love it... in that 'below my capabilities so I totally rock this job' kind of way.

Don't care. I'm eligible for benefits and a 401K in two months and I make more than minimum wage... added bonus; it's literally a two minute drive from the house... with traffic.

School.... *sigh* what to say? I still want my degree, but I have been slacking. An easy thing to do when you work till late and have no internet.... but I'll buckle down now that I have a solid place to do it... at least until I get my AA. Beyond that, who knows?

Truth be told, I love learning, and hate schoolwork. So...we'll see. Not super thrilled about having to learn the intricacies of insurance rules and regulations either. So I'm totally passing, but no where near giving a damn about my GPA at the moment.... and 5 more years of classes for my Masters... who the fuck knows.

The guy? Well, we're "in talks". I'm not even going to go there, other than to restate a couple of my facebook statuses and the issues behind them:

Lack of communication: Your silence speaks louder than a pimp's golf pants.

The on again off again nature of our still-long-distance-relationship: I miss you even if you are the butt-crack sand in the bathing suit of my life.

My daughter is doing beautifully, although she has been throwing me some definite teenager 'tude and has been dripping sarcasm all over me... of which I'm kind of proud... 'cause I'm from Jersey.

And my son and I turned 4 and 40 respectively on the 6th. That picture is now my facebook profile picture and I only even have it because A both thought of it and had the patience to get a great shot of us.

And that's all I've got for the updates. I'm better than fine, but not spectacular. I pray every day and send out blessing texts most mornings to my peeps. Some days they come from me, and other days they come through me...

Either way, makes no difference to me. I'm just grateful to be alive, with a car that still runs, a job that I don't mind going to, a place to live with my own room, shower, and house key, friends and family that stood by me, and two kids that I love no matter where they are, how they act, and how they still make me feel in awe that God would entrust their amazing selves to me of all people, and most of all, a deep, strong relationship with God, who makes me learn about myself and fix what is fucked up with me.

In old-Aria terminology: Life isn't quite the suckfest it used to be... but it is far from being a completed journey.

Blessings!

Twilight Zone or Sanity? Wait, Don't Answer That.

2011-02-05T23:15:00.000-06:00

Image via WikipediaThis has been the most bizarre week... possibly in the history of my existence.

Everything that was up fell down, and everything that was down rose up.

On the first I was set to watch my son all day at Tx-ex's house. But on Monday, after giving me an awesome new haircut in the morning, I get a call from Mrs. Tx-ex asking if I can come that night because the weather was coming in and they wanted to get on the road.

Hmmmm, more time with my son, in a house I know so well, with unrestricted internet access. Oh, um let me see... YEEEEES!

It's a great night, an even better day and the weather outside is frightful when Tx-ex and Mrs. Tx-ex come home. It's late and the front had arrived leaving 20+ degree weather in its wake. So I stay the night again.

The next day, the weather is worse... and the kid and the company are even better. And there's this comfortable comraderie that grows between us all.

Jas is in heaven... and hell, cause he's now got three parental figures to love him, as well as keep his little hind-end in check.

That night, again in the 20's now with freezing rain... I'm on the couch sleeping next to my son for another night... and Mrs. Tx-ex and I start talking after the boys have gone to bed...

And she's awesome. We would have totally hit it off in the outside world had we met there... But we met here, under the circumstances we did.

She's my son's step-mother now. She's wonderful at it, and Jas loves her as much as either his father or I.

She's married to Tx-ex, and they are in genuine fairy-tale love... which is a little humbling to witness up close and personal with someone you spent over four years living with... in a relationship that he and I both knew was never like that for either one of us.

For some reason we trust each other, Mrs. Tx-ex and I... and she stops being Mrs. Tx-ex and becomes A... and the more we talk... and share... and bless each other through Universal Design... A becomes my friend.

I forgive them everything, and pray that they forgive me... but some things take time...

Tx-ex and I are still us...

So I left the next evening.

To make sure that we all stayed cool with each other and the dynamic that has unfolded before us.

Jas has three parents... because my son is just lucky like that.

And by extension, so are we.

Even if we all look crazy...

We're comfortable with that.

Because Sometimes I Remember That I Have A Blog...

2011-01-29T16:06:00.001-06:00

Image by DR000 via FlickrI know, y'all.

I'm sorry.

It has yet again been an obnoxiously long time since I have posted.

Life and its many ups-n-downs just keep rolling along, and sometimes I don't feel things are appropriate to share, cause I'm good like that and I suck like that. Which may be why y'all keep reading... I'm not easy... in more ways than one.

I'll try to catch you up... nutshell version, cause I have more to tell you than what has already been.

I'm still homeless, but I have a set place to park, and the owner is totally ok with it (SCORE!) I'm still unemployed, but have apps in EVERYWHARE! Also, the owner of where I park is interested in getting me a job with the sheriff's department as a dispatcher (which is right up my job-history alley, so SCORE again). My daughter moved with ex-hub back to northern California and is doing brilliantly (SCORE), and my son, who is living with the Tex-ex and his new wife is doing very well also and growing-up so fast (SCORE).

OK, and now for the huge news... I met someone... online...

*pauses so my mother can stop hyperventilating and shouting at the computer because we've been here before*

...and he's awesome as far as I'm concerned, which is cool, cause I'm awesome as far as he's concerned...

Turns out, I'm so damn awesome that he's coming down here... to stay.

*tosses Mom the smelling salts*

To be honest, he was already looking at coming to Houston~ish cause our economy isn't as fucked as the rest of the country's.

But, that's all I'm willing to share here about him and all of this... for now.

As I get myself back on track and into the real world, I will expound further and more often, but for now, I'll leave you with this:

I'm Happy. Super Happy. Uber-goober Happy.

And I am well aware that this is the honeymoon phase, and I'm not giving up my goals or the future I've already been working on and planning... I'm just adding him to it... the vision I have of what my life will become.

And for now, that is all I need... and God will provide the rest.

Blessings until next time!

*sits back and waits for the phone to ring cause Mom wants ALL the dirty details*

6 Things I've Learned Since the Last Post

2011-01-06T12:38:00.001-06:00

Image via WikipediaIt seems like a month of Sundays since I've filled you all in...

Eh, life got better, then worse, and now I'm back at ground zero starting my rebuild yet again.

Must have been messing up... or God shut those doors to open new ones, which is my personal hope.

School started up again, so I'm back on the computer regularly after taking most of the holiday season to not even crack the laptop bag open. Which, I have to say, was actually kind of nice.

More than two days of unplugged suited me... and depressed the hell outta me. Nobody comments on my journal. And God isn't always the best conversationalist.

But here's what I've learned since I've last been here:

1. Beauhunks hate Yankees more than they hate bad meat.

2. My ex is Sybil, and my friends are golden.

3. I'm stronger, tougher, more frightened, lazier, more greedy and more full of love and faith than even I realized.

4. It's tougher than I knew sometimes to find people that I don't annoy.

5. You have to acknowledge the feelings you want to throw in the garbage or they won't go away.

6. Having a set place to sleep at night is priceless.

Blessings and a beautiful Happy New Year to you all... I'll write with actual details again soon. =D

It's Not a Tuuumor

2010-11-30T15:15:00.000-06:00

I kinda looked like this, but with better teeth.

Well, I should be doing my schoolwork but I wanted to catch y'all up... you've been so patient, because from my perspective, that last post was lifetimes ago.

Holy cats y'all. I didn't go any further. I made a decision to come back to the little ole town Texas that I used to bitch about.

I got out there and realized I really missed this quiet little place.

I know y'all are thinking I went back to the ex...

But I did ~~try like a begging dog and got shot down~~ not. Instead, his ex-flame from forever ago was already there before I even wrote the last post, and they got married yesterday morning.

I went kazoo.

Even though I found out about it as I was leaving church, after helping out and being all kinds of Good Child of God and such.

It wasn't even remotely pretty. I went ghetto... and by ghetto I mean I went through that house like a tornado and removed everything I bought that I could fit into my pea-sized car. I took every thing from the bed except the mattress, up to and including my revenge pillows and poured water on the bed. I found her overnight bag in the bathroom and poured water in that when I removed the shower-head. Her computer was all set up where mine used to be and to keep myself from dousing that, I soaked the seat of the computer chair. Then I jerked the phone clean out of the wall and proceeded to forget the receiver. I was gonna take the microwave but it wouldn't fit in the back seat. I left the deep freeze and the front door wide open and jetted; shaking in adrenaline fury.

I had gone off the deep end and I knew it.

Then I went back to church and shook there in my favorite parking spot... for like two hours.

And I calmed down. And God showed me what I needed to see.

Total Ouch Hallelujah time! My behavior in the relationship and his behavior in the relationship and what I need to do now and how the only thing he could do to get me to back off was get married. I saw everything. I saw my three big hideous ugly behaviors that I have to work on. I saw the root causes of all my current problems.

I got it... and it healed me.

And I'm over it. And happy going forward. And happy for them. It was the frying pan to the skull that I absolutely needed to get off my dead slug ass and live.

So am I still broke, and jobless, and homeless. Yes, yes I am. But I'm happy and looking forward and fixing it all one task, one day at a time.

And happy makes all the difference in the world.

Rollin Me Down the Highway

2010-11-28T06:43:00.000-06:00

Image via WikipediaGod, where did I go?

I used to be fearless.

I crossed state lines last night and have found myself this morning in Duson, Louisiana. Farther East on I-10 than I ever went before...and quaking in my Keds the whole way.

I pray constantly that God has me even though I'm not really feeling it. Trusting in God and having faith, or lunatic with a brain tumor?

I don't know yet. So far, I'm still willing to go with the brain tumor theory.

I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Texas.

I miss driving with X-2 and feeling confident that we'd get anywhere we wanted cause he was driving.

I detest not having a destination or a home to return to.

Freedom isn't always what it's cracked up to be.

Sometimes it's just scary and lonely.

*sigh*

So barring a miracle, or possibly because of one, I will head on down the highway some more when I check out. Following I-10 E farther, mainly because I don't have any better ideas.

Prayers would be great.

Dear God,

Please send money and courage. Preferably in that order.

Amen

Time to Move On... Kinda

2010-11-24T08:07:00.000-06:00

Image via WikipediaI swear, that I understand that, I look crazy.

God is not telling me to re-up my room again.

No. God is telling me to give almost half my money to Darrell. I'm supposed to put the amount HE told me to in his bank account and then go over there today and give him my bank card for good. Get this, I also have to get my not-exactly-cheap Prilosec and my son a backpack.

This better be one hell of a bounty coming.

It is, and this I know even if my flesh is trying to scream, "what, What, WHAT?!?" Sheila Broflovski style.

It's a test.

I was never a tither. Can't lie. But whenever I have had money in my life, I tried to be good to those around me. That has always been my tithe.

So, without a set place to call my sleeping space tonight, I will do as I am told. Give what I must to be faithful to God.

And tomorrow, I will, with these people that I'm about to leave, give thanks; to all that we did, to all that we were, and to all we're going to be separately.

And I am thankful, because everything brought me here. To this incredibly good, even if a little scary, journey of fully walking with God. In every aspect of my life.

Time to go out into the deep so I may receive my larger haul. Whenever God says I'm ready for it, I will receive. Yes, I will.

So a happy and bountiful Thanksgiving to you and your family. Thanks for reading~ stay tuned.

And That Was That

2010-11-22T19:01:00.000-06:00

Image by ken mccown via FlickrWhatabunchaDRAMA.

But hey, what's a breakup without some drama?

Every major break-up has to have some drama.

Ours started about 48 hours ago.

I came back to the house and could not stop myself from spouting some hard truths. When I was with my first ex, I called it Will-Tourette's cause I could not stop spouting at that man. Nor this one apparently, on that night anyway.

I may need to work on that.

Anyway, he did not handle those truths well, and by yesterday morning, when I said, "Good Morning" *big smile actually feeling pretty happy* he went kazoo.

Threats, and angry epithets from one end being met with nothing but blessings and requests of friends to pray for his angry-tornado-headed-self. And you can believe it, cause I saved the texts... just in case. lol Been through the ex that goes off the rails bit before.

Anyway, I have moved out...and life is beautiful. My living quarters have definitely been upgraded.

I am officially in transition between that existence and the life that is to come.

My dear readers, I have stepped into my future.

It's bright, beautiful, and blessed.

AP Ziedoü

2010-11-21T09:30:00.000-06:00

The future is scary.

The past is comforting.

Choose the future,

It is more rewarding.

-AP Ziedoü

Icky

2010-11-18T13:33:00.000-06:00

Image by G & A Sattler via FlickrPeople ask all the time, "How are you doing?"

At the grocery store, at the gas station...

when you're going through a break-up...

Today, my answer is "Icky."

I feel like hell. Every time I enter the house I want to cry.

It Sucks.

I thought I'd be happier. I was so miserable for so long, I was sure breaking-up would be easier.

I didn't expect the pain. I thought being in was painful; being out is currently worse.

Rationally, I know it will get better. I have faith, I do what God tells me to do, even when it seems insane to other people.

"Be good to him."

That's what I'm being told to do.

"Seriously, God? I'll do what you're telling me, but then how am I supposed to..."

"Be good to him. Give him everything I tell you to."

So I do... and I am... and I'm exhausted, weepy, and hurting. It sucks. The one thing I'm not, is angry.

But it's icky.

And I'm being told things that explain so much, but I'm not allowed to tell him, cause it cannot come from me now. He wouldn't accept the information.

Icky.

Lord help me. You know what I need better than I do. I am grateful that you are sending it on swift wings and I accept your blessings. Amen. *sigh* Amen.

Alone Again, Naturally

2010-11-11T15:22:00.000-06:00

Image by melilab via FlickrFor those of you who have managed to resist the temptation of facebook, I'll catch you up to speed.

I'm single~ish.

Let me clarify so as not to confuse my long-time readers.

I'm married, still, by some cosmic joke to the person I have always referred to here as ex-hubby.

I never married, because bigamy just isn't attractive, the man that I have always referred to here as Hubby.

Make sense? I didn't think so... but I'll move on anyway.

Hubby, the man that I moved to Texas for, and the father of my son is no longer Hubby (he's now X-2)... we have decided to call it quits... for real, and for good.

I see myself as Colin Firth in Love Actually, when he winds up in France for his annual writing get-away alone after leaving his cheating ho of a girlfriend.

Hubby didn't cheat on me, but I connect with Colin's delivery of the line (and title of this post) much more than Eric Carmen's wailing of this line from his song by the same title.

And now that I've managed to, despite being completely sober, write as confusingly as if I were stoned to the bejesus belt, I shall continue...

This is actually good news for you, my dear readers.

No longer must I edit out what is going on in my previously boring life because someone doesn't want to get phone calls from his friends asking him pointed questions about something I've written.

Gotta tell ya, as a stay-at-home 'wife' and mother, that puts a HUGE crimp in what I can write about.

But those days are gone... so, beware, be warned, strap-in... I'll be writing uncensored from now on.

And I'm also getting a new look, because the header was a sunset taken from the front yard of X-2's house and obviously, that will cease to be my view sometime after Thanksgiving, since I haven't moved yet.

Therefore, without further ado, this is my notice to you, my readers: Aria'z Ink is about to change...a lot... for the better.

Blessings!

Just Give Me A Freakin' Break Already.

2010-11-08T10:30:00.001-06:00

Image via WikipediaI just don't get it.

Some chick on my facebook friends list just updated her status with her dietetic breakfast menu.

Seriously?

Can we file that under I don't give a shit?

I'm pretty sure she's a fellow blogger too, so it doesn't bode well for her writing skills that the most pertinent, and by pertinent I mean funny, thought provoking, witty, or interesting, the most pertinent thing this woman has to post is her dietetic breakfast menu.

Turkey bacon is a travesty of epic proportions, I hate cottage cheese. I don't mind blueberries, but measuring your food before you eat sucks balls... and then posting the menu with measurements?

That is just sad.

I mean, it's like the big cue to your brain that says, "Hey, heads up, we're dieting again. Feel free to make the stomach think it's hungry All. Day. Long. Even if we eat the dietary fiber equivalent of cardboard and tree bark salad. Thanks!"

It was like a tweet one time from David Faustino, that's Bud Bundy from Married With Children to those of you that don't have a freakish amount of actual names of actors floating around their heads, which said he was on his way to get a haircut. I answered him in a manner similar to this post... and he answered me *squee!*.

Thing is, with all this social networking via the internet, have we gotten SO LAZY that we can't even manage 120 characters of interesting anymore?

Come on people, thanks to the Internet, we can chat with friends without make-up, minty-fresh-breath, showers, or even pants. Can't we at least be interesting?

Witty, pithy, inspirational...? Funny, smile-inspiring, thought provoking...? Movie-quoting, YouTube-showing, passing along a chain-post ~~that is total bullshit and probably a scam, but~~ I have it as my status right now anyway...?

Hey, what do you expect? I'm pre-coffee, and by that I mean that I've only had 6 oz. of this 20 oz. coffee that I expect will be into it's second go-round as I wash down 1 whole wheat bagel, 2 slices Kraft American cheese, two eggs fried in way too much pure canola oil, or as I like to call it; cooked Southern Style.

Later on today I plan to consume 10.9 oz. crunchy Cheetos for lunch with a side dish of 32 oz. Coke Zero over 8 ice cubes. Then for dinner I'll ~~scrounge desperately for something sweet~~ have 3 hot dogs, nuked well, 3 low-grade white bread buns that almost certainly have whatever the latest food no-no is in them, with liberal amounts of mustard, and for late snack, I'll remember there's some of the grade C Halloween candy left up in the kid's basket on the top shelf of the cabinet.

Along the Same Lines...

2010-10-22T12:59:00.000-05:00

Image by milesizz via FlickrWell, since the last time I was here, I had a little more experience with the whole non-friend friendship thing.

We went to Austin and saw a girlfriend of mine earlier in the week. She's only been in Texas for a few months, and over my school break I went to visit her alone. This time I brought the whole fam-damily.

Hubby was trepidacious. He can barely handle one California-Yankee woman let alone a pair of them plus family.

I got told as we pulled-up to their house that this was going to be a short visit.

Two hours later, he and my friend were talking and laughing and hubby announced that we would hang out until her hubby got home so mine could meet hers.

Boo hasn't gone a day without mentioning her or the Spongebob video she put on for him, and that he wants to go back. Every time he makes this announcement, he brings me his shoes to punctuate the fact that he means now.

This friend was one that I chose all those many years ago, and we still like each other, and we're still similar, and our families get along well. CHOSEN.

Then I get home, and to contrast, a friend that I had at another high school (I attended three in 4 years) was one that I fell into. She was a friend of my step-sister from grade school, and when my step-sister moved out, I moved-in and kind of took over the friendship.

I thought we were good friends, but I recently realized that I was always a little bit out of the group. She (friend 1 to keep the story straight) posted pics this week of another friend of mine (friend 2) with her, along with the other friend's group (friend 2's group). Then Friend 1 posted pics of Friend 2's group members at Friend 1's parent's summer home.

I had been around long before Friend 2 and was a full-time friend for over a year. Friend 2's group were once-in-a-while show-ups.

I never garnered an invite to the summer house. I wasn't in any of the pics that were being posted. I don't remember ever taking pics at all with Friend 1.

It hurt. I had considered Friend 1 and Friend 2 good friends. But I was totally outside the loop.

I pulled up my Wonder Woman Underoos and recognized the relationships for what they were; convenient... and no where near as 'deep' as I had thought at the time. I should have realized that when I was always the one initiating contact. Always the one making the first move of kindness or consideration or any other earmark of general friendship.

I was chasing them... a friendship stalker of sorts. Like Rose on Two and a Half Men. Tolerated, but not taken seriously in any frame of reference.

Sometimes you are awesome, just not awesome for that person or that group.

I told hubby about it and that I felt like a mallard trying to fit in with swans.

He responded that maybe they were the mallards.

Be still my heart.

I unfriended all of them.

Then I thought about my friend in Austin.

We are definitely the swans.

Realizations

2010-10-11T13:49:00.000-05:00

Image via WikipediaI've been coming to a lot of realizations lately.

Some of them after a lot of thought and consideration.

Some of them simply smack me in the skull while I'm washing dishes or playing Bejeweled Blitz; which mentally are the same thing~ a task to focus the surface mind while the inner mind can run free-range unchecked and give you answers you've been searching for... even if you didn't know you were searching for them.

Long ago and far away I would have smoked pot for that mental state.

I'm glad I finally found the upside to washing dishes... aside from a lack of insect & vermin and the ability to eat off of or drink out of whatever I want to without fear of contracting hepatitis or some other equally gnarly disease.

It almost makes me enjoy doing them now...Almost.

Yeah, not really.

Like last week when I realized why most marriages split up.

If you're in a relationship, envision this: If you were completely financially set, and for the rest of your natural born life you had on call for any time or place; a maid, a chef, a hooker (male or female), a nanny, and a nurse... would you still be with the person you are with?

The amount of time it takes to get to an answer is unimportant, but if the answer is, "No." then the relationship has an expiration date.

The one that hit me this morning was a little bit uncomfortable and less global. Upon seeing pictures a friend posted on facebook, I came to the realization that this person never really liked 'me' but I was convenient and tolerable.

And I wondered how many friendships I've had like that over the years. Where I really enjoyed someone's company and thought of them as a friend, but given the choice and other options, that person would have chosen to hang-out with someone else.

So while I can be cool with that person now, I definitely am not going to bend over backward to make contact, keep contact, or consider him or her in any of my decision making processes.

God called me for other things. I have the personality I have for a reason and it's being put to good use elsewhere. Expending my precious energy on this (or any) person who is a casual acquaintance at best, and who has no desire to deepen the relationship beyond that, is a waste. And continuing to do it is a roadblock in my own personal advancement along my path.

Another revelation I came to when talking with my sister last night was how COMPLETELY GRATEFUL I am for unanswered prayers.

How different would my life, or yours for that matter, be if I had been given some of the things, or relationships, or the situations that I had asked for?

I shudder to think. I thought about a few of them and scared myself so much I had nightmares!

OK, not really, but I should have.

So see, Bejeweled Blitz is a THERAPY TOOL, not a waste of time!

*shut up right now about the dishes, wiseass!*

My Island

2010-09-30T15:43:00.000-05:00

Image via WikipediaSome days I feel like an island.

Not Gilligan's Island, cause it had years of company, granted it was reluctant, but still.

Not the Survivor island because I'm not being trampled on by camera crews and people doing the guerrilla-version of Biggest Looser mixed with Fear Factor.

Just an island. The Isle of Aria.

Like Lovey without Thurston.

Ever have one of those days? When even your go-to gals don't get where you're coming from. And you sound a little odd to yourself, but aren't sure if that's really you or the you you're seeing from the eyes of your not-in-sync observers.

So it is with me this week.

I quit smoking... Yes, again.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I've been a little stabby.

But when the first day of quitting falls on top of four hours of sleep and PMS, and I didn't wind up being indicted for first-degree murder, I'm willing to call that a win.

Yesterday was a little better, even though hubby took the second day just as he had the first... like he was trying to poke an alligator with a sharp stick with the sole intent of pissing it off so that it would charge.

Then he got mad at this alligator for charging.

How is someone who, for the last four years, has not uttered more than a total of four sentences without some cussword in it, going to tell me to watch my mouth?

How do you explain to a person that his or her actions are ones that would make you wanna knock 'em in the noggin with a cast iron skillet even if you'd gotten a full 8 on a TempurPedic Cloud, had balanced hormones, a cup of fresh coffee, and a Cheech and Chong sized green-bud joint while hooked to a Valium IV.

What do I know, I'm just acting like this cause I'm a snapper.

And on top of that, I say things to my girlz that I think they're gonna take one way, and they go in a whole other direction.

I'm left feeling like the island where one day they're going to find Amelia Earhart.

But an island without a fire since I'm smoke free.

And I don't miss smoking. I'm actually not craving cigarettes. I miss the excuse to go take a 5 minute break. I miss the camaraderie that happens during those smoke breaks. But I can't go there right now, cause I'll be tempted to cave.

And if an island caves, it disappears. Swallowed by the ocean.

And I don't want to be a sunken island because then I'll be a landing zone for whale shit and half-eaten shark meals of dismembered body parts... and that's disgusting.

I want to be a happy island with beautiful views and a peaceful demeanor... and if I can achieve that, the tourists will come.

Mommy Needs a Time Out

2010-09-22T19:44:00.000-05:00

Image by un point c'est tout ! (Les chicos) via FlickrAny parent with a shred of honesty will admit that sometimes their kids drive them street-rat-bat-shit-round-the-damn-bend crazy.
If they don't, they're either liars or highly medicated.

My son has no off button. He's not a lap-baby. He doesn't sit and watch TV. He's in constant motion. He even bounces around while playing video games.

And so are his lips. He never stops talking, and to his ears, "Be quiet." means speak louder. If he's not actually talking, he's making noise; motorboat, gun blasts, raspberries, machine gun fire...

And when he wants something he comes at you like a cattle auctioneer until you give in just to get some peace even though that's poor parenting and my daughter would never have gotten away with that.

I ~~still smoked pot so it was easier to tune out~~ was stronger then.

I know this about him. I'm not new. At this point in his life, it is who he is and how he behaves.

He's adorable and everything I could want in a son: hard-headed, strong, smart, full of curiosity and energy, and has moments of pure sweetness that melt your heart.

Today, the cuteness is not enough.

I want to play Bejeweled Blitz without having machine gun rat-a-tat-tat's shouted in my ears while he hangs on my mouse hand.

I want to read my homework assignment without rapid-fire requests for milk and mac-n-cheese.

I want him to stop doing something, anything, without having to be yelled at before he cops a clue that I'm actually addressing HIM even though I said his name each of the five times I made the request before I turned into Psycho Sally.

I want him to not use my computer chair to reach things on top of the fridge the second I leave the room to use the toilet.

I want to take something away from him without him picking it up the second I lay it down like he has every right in the world to do so.

I want him to not play with his cars directly behind me on the kitchen floor while I'm at the stove, because I have told him he's not allowed in the kitchen while I'm cooking more than I have said my own name... in my entire lifetime.

I want to not have to play the antagonist in a game of keep-away to get the TV remote from him when I finally sit down to watch a show and he's had Qubo on ~~all day~~ for a few hours and doesn't want to share cause Miss BG is on.

Maybe I can convince Hubby that I've been really, really, really bad and need a long time-out to think about my behavior... or just have a single uninterrupted thought today.

All. By. Myself.

Wish me luck.

Too Tall

2010-09-20T16:11:00.000-05:00

Image by aussiegall via FlickrSo, I'm sitting at the computer... I know, newsflash... and my son, who is now 3 1/2 (which I taught him to say and sounds totally adorable) is standing still in the middle of the living room.

This is monumental for two reasons.

First, he's STANDING STILL. Yeah, it's so he can watch T2, and shoot Robert with Arnold and Linda, but none the less.

Second, and more importantly to me as a mother, I just realized how tall he is.

As in just now.

Seriously. I thought he was standing on something.

Normally, I'm sitting on the couch and he's trying to jump on me like a bounce house, so it's hard to gauge the height.

Plus it's summer and he's either running around in nothing, pull-ups or shorts.

Not like I put pants on him and realized that they were half-way up his shins, but if I did, they probably would be.

I feel for him. Tall is not always easy.

In grade school the other kids will think he's been held back because no normal Kindergartner is already four feet tall and out of his car seat.

And the teachers always want you to get stuff off the top shelves for the short kids, who resent you for being able to grab what they can't.

Plus you're too big for the normal kid sized toys.

Which really sucks when you want to climb into the red tube and play with all the petite little girls that even the boys think look all cute, but there's no room for you cause you take up the same amount of room as two of them.

Or maybe that was just me.

It might be cool being that tall as a boy. As a girl it was awful.

All the cute boys wouldn't even look at me in grade school. Probably because I was always talking to their hair.

Although they didn't mind nearly as much when puberty hit and they were eye-level with my burgeoning chest.

But it seriously narrowed the dating field when I got old enough. How could I date someone that could look up my nose?

I couldn't.

So I wound up with tall guys.

And thanks to that, my kids never fit in age-appropriate sizes.

My daughter will be 12 next month, and she's already up to my nose. My son is an inch past my belly button.

I'm probably going to have to stop calling them my munchkins.

Why Naps Are Not a Good Idea In My House

2010-09-16T16:39:00.000-05:00

Image by Sean Molin | Photographer via FlickrSo yesterday, after my unfunny post about my instructor difficulties, I managed to get a hold of my academic advisor and she dropped me from that class.

Unfortunately, it was while I was still on the phone with her, so I couldn't go back and tell the guy ~~that he is a sanctimonious, narcissistic fucktard~~ what I really thought of him.

I'm chalking that up to the Universe making sure I didn't ~~get kicked out of school~~ burn bridges.

After that beginning to my day, and my adorable son using up every cute point he possessed to stay alive; I decided I needed a nap.

I was drained.

Seething hatred and parenting a toddler with the energy level of a meth-head with a Starbucks Double Shot in one hand and a to-do list in the other will do that to ya.

So I corralled the kid and told hubby that I was done for. He said that he and the roomie (yes, we still have him, just not in the house...usually) were going to go fishing... or BBQ; they hadn't decided yet.

I suggested fishing for two reasons.

A: The obvious peace and quiet that one cannot achieve when practically deaf people play video games.

B: I hadn't done all of the dishes yet, so I didn't want to add to the pile that was being effectively diminished throughout the day.

He and roomie left, and I went in to take my nap.

I must have needed it, because I fell asleep DEEP... for three hours.

John Phillip Sousa could have practiced in my bed during a tornado, and I would have only been the wiser because of the tuba tracks on the sheets in the tree across the street.

Apparently, that was long enough to go get three kinds of meat... burn the shit out of it, and eat as much of the charred remains as possible.

And to destroy a kitchen so completely that I would have paid the tornado and Sousa to destroy it rather than try to clean it.

Seriously.

There was a bath towel on the counter... W...T...F... is a bath towel doing on the kitchen counter?

FIY, the kitchen towels and the paper towels were put up in the now-empty cabinet above the counter.

*the look on my face at this point is reminiscent of what a 6 year-old looks like when Stephen Hawking has been speaking to the child for over an hour about quantum physics*

Every... E.V.E.R.Y. dish of every size was used and left wherever there was room; which wasn't in the sink btw, because the mopping sauce pot and all of the two-foot-long BBQ implements were sticking out of the sink.

Hey, at least they can't say that they didn't know where the sink was. They found it at least once.

Under the bath towel I found a counter with dried liquid-of-some-sort, liberally sprinkled with 11 herbs and spices and a few steak knives. The cutting board was moved over, so as not to get it dirty.

The stove looked like Madame Curie's lab puked on it... violently (cause you have to cook the mopping sauce on the stove, Duh!).

They left me steak. Which was awesome, cause I love steak and we haven't had any for a really long time.

Except it looked like it lost a bout with a very, very angry flame-thrower.

My jaw still hurts from dinner last night...and my eyes are bleeding from the sight of the kitchen...

And there is not enough coffee in the world for me to not envision a postal, blood-soaked ending to this scenario.

Allegedly.

Back to School Blues ~ Grown-up Style

2010-09-15T10:11:00.001-05:00

Image via WikipediaSo, after a wonderful week off full of doing nothing, unchecked facebook time, and a day-trip to see my girlfriend from high school that was mentally, emotionally, and gastronomically AWESOME, it was time to return to school this week.

Sunday I got online and posted my bio to both classes and downloaded the respective syllabuses (yes, it's more accepted as grammatically accurate than syllabi; I checked) and appendixes and reading chapters... etc. I was actually a little excited about going back to classes despite the loss of free time. I was scheduled for a class in pathology and another in world religions.

Now, not to toot my own horn, but in order to provide proof that I am not some fly-by-night student, I will tell you that I currently have a GPA of 3.96. I have not always liked my instructors, nor have I always thought that they were doing the best of jobs teaching the classes I have attended; however, being both a Jersey girl and my mother's child, I would simply roll my eyes and get through it. Class is only nine weeks long... Fuhgeddaboutit.

So even though the pathology syllabus had the longest preamble of class rules and expectations I have ever seen, I thought, "He's precise".

Then I get to the course materials section for pathology and where most instructors post about four items. One being the syllabus for the class, another being the appendix with all of the instructions and recommended timeline for the final project, another being a class calendar, and lastly, any words of advice and recommendation that he or she forgot to put into the syllabus.

Pathology instructor: Six...TEEN. Not including the post from Academic Services about student workshops that is in absolutely every class' course materials section.
OK, that started to tip me off a little.

I made sure to read everything. Obviously the instructor is a detail freak, which probably bodes well in pathology, so note to self: read EVERYTHING this guy posts.

Then he misread one of my postings and left me a message telling me not to tell another student whether their posts were substantive (I was talking about my own post!) and then proceeded to give me unsubstantive on both of my participation answers.

Here's the thing... I could tell that they were revenge U's.

I had, because he MISREAD my posting, stepped all over his toes...with cleats (because he's a complete and total narcissist). And I knew from that moment on, this guy was going to tank my grade because I had offended him, and he was unable to remain professional.

So I wrote him back to correct his mistaken judgment in the most polite and respectful way that I was able to along with asking him why my answers were deemed U's (cause I wasn't about to let that drop)...And then I called my academic advisor to find out about getting out of this and any future classes being taught by this instructor.

She asked me to give it a day or so. Turns out that by answering him, I had fulfilled the attendance requirements for the week, so even if she dropped me immediately, I was still financially responsible for one week of this class.

However, as long as I didn't post after Sunday, it was still within the week and I wouldn't owe any more money.

My academic advisor is awesome, so I promised to wait for his responses. I got it last night.

After which, I proceeded to email my advisor... this is a small piece of that letter:
I copied and pasted below what I wrote back. It was literally as nice as I was capable of being, because what I really wanted to say was, "Listen, you narcissistic *bleep*, you have the longest pre-amble class rules section of a syllabus that I have ever seen. In addition, you posted (literally, I could not make this up!) SIXTEEN items in the course materials section (not including the Academic Affairs post about student workshops) that deal with everything from one suggesting we take the basic essays workshop, to one that specifically deals with what constitutes substantive posts. I have read them all and NO WHERE does any of it mention word count. So, is this just a requirement for students that do not bow down and kiss your hind-quarters? You have one course materials posting on grammar and punctuation, and I have read at least four postings by other students with multiple glaring errors; but I come away with U's for not meeting an unposted word count? You JACK!"

Again, that's what I WANTED to write... What I actually wrote was:

Hello *deleted name of instructor*,

This is the first time that I have heard anything about word count minimums for participation requirements. From your exact posting in the class materials section:

Posts that do not count for credit:

1. “I agree” or “Good idea..” or “You’re right...”, “ I understand” are not substantive posts. I do value those kinds of posts but these do not add to the classroom discussion. Supportive posts you make to your fellow classmates that add something substantial to the classroom discussion will receive credit.

2. Repeating what another student has already written without adding

something of value to it also is not considered substantive.

3. Offering an opinion or experience on something unrelated to the goal of the learning objectives of the class is not substantive.

4. Posts that are not in some way directly related to the objectives listed for that week or a prior week and/or the course readings may also not receive credit.

As you can see, no where in there is a word count mentioned. I have gone back and re-read the syllabus, but it is not mentioned there either. Week one being a discussion week, I would expect word count to be listed in the lengthy pre-coursework instructions of the syllabus or in the first week instructions, but I was unable to find it in either place. So where would one find this Quality Checklist, instead of the version I have?

*end submitted post to instructor*

I promise you my tongue has been bitten in half and crazy-glued back on so I don't sound like John Merrick. This was As Kind and As Polite as I was capable of; forgive me, I know it's not up to respect requirements. I went back to my syllabus. I went back to the course materials and RE-downloaded the syllabus in case it had changed. I went through the post specifically dealing with DQ requirements, and I know the spacing looks funky, but I SWEAR that I did not tamper with it, that was nothing more than copy and paste into the response post directly from his original post in the course materials section.

I would consider $1050 to drop this class (way more accurately, get rid of this instructor!) a bargain.

Please remove me from this class. And please, as long as I am a student in your care, please make sure that no future classes have this instructor. I'd rather quit Phoenix entirely than work with him; yes, my instincts are that vehement about this issue.

*end email to advisor*

It is like I was hired by human resources to work directly under the boss while the boss was on vacation...

Then he comes back...

And it's Hitler.

Something to Say

2010-09-08T12:05:00.000-05:00

Image by wallyg via FlickrSo, I was over on Yahoo reading about the US Presidents that have topped the best-seller list... and agog that they're calling W.'s book 'Decision Points' a best-seller.

It hasn't been released yet.

I mean, it takes a long time to reproduce that many pages written in crayon.

Besides, the only ones that didn't cringe at what the guy had to say while he was President were Jon Stewart and David Letterman...they were too busy taking notes because W. made their jobs so damned easy.

Back to Presidential best-selling authors, what got me about the list was how many of the presidents were on it.

They make a big deal about only 13, but the list only started during FDR's presidency.

It's not like Washington and Lincoln tried and failed to get on the list.

Besides that, how many United States Presidents have we had since April 1942?

Fancy a guess?

Thirteen.

Seriously, I looked it up.

FDR died in office before he could do his presidential memoirs. Kennedy died before memoirs also, but Profiles in Courage got him into the club, and Obama has already had best-sellers even before his presidential recollections.

Then there were a few that tried and didn't make it.

Truman, which isn't surprising if one studies his life.

Nixon, who tried 12 times to make the list, but his books probably suffered from his permeating air of desperation and conspiracy theory, and that only works as as sad A&E Biography.

And Bush Sr., who probably had a boring-ass 12 page memoir after editing and blacking out by the CIA, considering his dead-pan delivery.

So, I'm not sure how they came up with 13 on the list when there have only been 13 since the list and three of them tried and didn't make it.

Nevertheless, they all had something to say. Something above and beyond their (usually) majority elected any-time-I-want-to-I-can-garner-unlimited-on-air-time-to-gargle-On-Top-of-Old-Smokey-and-they-will-watch term.

Which got me to thinking... if I ever want to be a famous author (and by famous, I mean VERY well paid, but still able to eat at McDonald's without someone trying to cut into my McNugget time... OK, maybe that is a bad example, I mean seriously, I never go in to MickeyDee's cause that's what drive through is for! Duh! You'd think I grew-up in a time before microwaves!... oh, wait...), then I need to have something to say.

And so far, not so much.

But seriously though, aren't fresh-outta-the-fryer-and-salted McDonald's fries the absolute best?

Where was I?

Oh, yeah... so I think AP needs a fact checker; or someone better at doing math. Because only 13, but total of 13, including the 4 that were never on it? I'm confused. And this probably wasn't the point I originally intended, but now I'm totally craving MickeyDee's fries (admit it, you are too, huh?) and completely forgot the point I was going to make.

Come to think of it, MickeyDee's fries may have contributed to Clinton's downfall; I mean you get distracted thinking about their golden-deliciousness and you forget things... like reminding Monica to drop off her dry cleaning. Just sayin'.

Battles in Pottydom

2010-08-30T15:32:00.000-05:00

Image via WikipediaSo, we've finally gone all commando on the potty-training.

And I mean that literally.

My son is WAAAYYY late potty-training. Turns out, he's just super lazy... or we are... whatever.

He knows how to use the toilet. He's good at it. When he does not have a butt-cover on; if he does, he's not using that toilet to save his life or hit the lotto.

To be fair, he has no concept of death or money yet. Well, aside from 'killing' everyone with any makeshift toy gun he can find, and when he plays McDonalds drive-thru with his father. Jas charges hubby $1000 for two McDoubles, a small fry, and two large Diet Cokes; all of which are on the value menu, btw.

We have a budding Republican, obviously.

So the kid has been running around the house without any type of butt-cover... and using the toilet.

However, he has decided that if he doesn't get to wear a diaper or pull-up, he's not wearing ANYTHING

... and he likes to follow us outside.

If I put Diet Coke in his sippy cup, he'd be textbook Redneck Child.

So then we try to dress him before coming outside or bedtime rolls around, and we try to put a pull-up on him and he gets really, REALLY offended about it.

As if we forced nakedness upon him and now clothes of any type are a crime against nature and his incredibly evolved sensibilities.

Great, so now he's a toilet-using, nudist, budding-Republican.

I'm never getting that Mother of the Year award.

Getting On With It

2010-08-16T14:24:00.000-05:00

I woke up today with a monster headache... the kind that instantly has you close-eyed groping for Excedrin... or *beg pray beg* morphine, whichever you lay your hands on first (damn, it's Excedrin), and then you call your primary care physician for a referral to a neurologist cause you're positive your brain is milliseconds from exploding inside your skull like Gallagher thought it was a watermelon, or you stumbled onto the set of a Michael Bay movie.

Yeah, one of those headaches.

And yet, it still was a better day than I was having last week, so ya know, trying to be grateful. Because my friend from elementary school kinda scolded me on facebook earlier for not be thankful that my Environmental Science teacher seems to no longer be reading my assignments, but simply giving me hundreds with mini-comments like great job.

While I'd like to think that I am a decent writer, that last assignment was phoned-in at best, so getting the hundred was almost saying to me, "Hey, thanks for taking the time to do the research and write 1000 words in APA format with a title page, citations, and references on a topic that you'd rather eviscerate yourself than give a scintilla of a damn about, and turn it in on a Friday instead of a Sunday like every other class you've taken, all during the week that your cousin died, but I just can't be bothered reading this cause I have 20 some-odd students, so GREAT JOB!"

So I said that next time, I'm going to write about the problem with bodies of salt water is that there are too many Salt-Water Taffy manufacturers out there; just to see if this guy is paying any attention whatsoever. And my friend reminded me to be grateful.

And she was right.

Even if I wasn't in the 'grateful' frame of mind. I was a little ashamed for bitching about a full point scored paper.

To quote myself, "If that's the worst thing to happen to me today, I'm in great shape!"

But sometimes, you are just not in the place to take great advice~ even if it's from yourself.

Sometimes when your brain goes into Inspirational-Poster mode, you just want to tell it to shut the hell up cause your Give-A-Damn went running from the building like it's hair was on fire and you're not sure you've got the give-a-damn left to make coffee.

And yet, surprisingly... I had enough give-a-damn left to bitch at people.

Sometimes, I amaze me.

Fly With Angels

2010-08-08T17:38:00.003-05:00

My words, so ineffectual in their condolence.

They cannot change what is,

or help those left behind to grapple with their grief.

They cannot make up for the years of lost chances

to catch-up...

or check-in...

or offer a helping hand...

or a shoulder to cry upon...

or a story to share.

So many memories, left to the survivors

serving as both security blankets and daggers.

Wretched mortality... only in its wake do we see

that living our lives as best as we are able,

so profoundly affects others.

With love and sorrow in my heart,

I bid you farewell.

That you may fly with angels.

In honor of Mary Ellen Trickel Kulesa 5/21/63-8/7/10

Change

2010-08-06T11:54:00.002-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

You know you need a change in your life when you watch a trailer for Eat, Pray, Love and you start crying.

And even though I wasn't expecting to cry... At All... I knew as soon as I did, why it was happening.

I need a change. And more of one than just lopping my hair off in my own bathroom... which I did the other day to avoid heatstroke; or so I told myself.

The hair chopping, the crying... I'll give some credit to hormones, but that's just exacerbating the core issue. I need a change.

A total life change.

And I'm a little stuck as to how to go about it.

So I'm going to take my sister's advice and start small, and personally positive.

Not good for him or them or us positive.

Good for ME positive.

Transformative, small, positive changes or actions.

Selfish... and I'm totally OK with that.

I've been on automatic pilot for too long.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go re-read Eat, Pray, Love. It really is an excellent book that contains some incredible life wisdom. And I need some of that.

The Definition of Irony

2010-08-03T15:37:00.001-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

The irony is, I quit smoking pot years ago and my coffee consumption is less than one-fourth of what it used to be. But see Mom, I was trying to look out for my brain all along! *coughbullshitcough*

I mean, I know this guy is a professor at a well respected college, but guessing from his age-appearance, it is entirely possible that he's attempting to qualify all the pot he and his girlfriend smoked in the sixties and trying to make it socially acceptable in the now.

I wonder how far this will go toward national legalization... probably no where if the tobacco companies have anything to say about it; then again, it was the tobacco companies that lobbied to make it illegal in the first place. Haters.

And here I was totally sober all through July when I could have totally used the marijuana vindication.

Sometimes it feels like the whole world is out to get ya. lol

July Sucked!! No Wait It's Better! Nope, It Sucks Again

2010-07-28T11:25:00.000-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

I'm trying to be classy this time. Like Judi Dench would be.

However, what I really want to do is be petty and nickle-and-dime this jackhole until his eyes and ears bleed.

In short July kinda sucked, but then it got better for a minute, and then it sucks again.

Let me explain. We started the month by finding out that the tier three unemployment (that we were told we would just roll-over to) had not been approved by the government yet. So, you know, that bill paying check that you were waiting on because you're family is still dependent on unemployment and you pay bills with one check and the other bills and buy food with the other check and you have nothing left saved at all...

That check? Yeah, ummmm well keep filing and when and if the fucking Republicans get their heads out of their greedy tight asses, you'll get back pay. Until then, good luck... no wait, this is a government agency; no good luck. We rescind the good luck statement and replace it with fuck you, your call has been disconnected try again later. So no money coming in from Hubby's end. (I only mention this specifically because it will become important later.)

And my daughter came amidst all of the unintentional poverty. Which we were graciously pulled out of the depths by the kindness and generosity of unexpected help by a couple of family members. And to them I bow down and kiss their pumps or heels or asses (whatever they prefer).

So we were able to get my daughter from the airport with a registered and insured vehicle and had the money for tolls and gas both to and from the airport both ways. Hell, we even had enough left to feed her while she was here... cause yeah, it was looking that bad.

And then my grandmother came through one last time in the final disbursement of her estate which was enough to actually pay all the bills up including the current due. Which was nice cause trying to do internet college on library computers sucks donkey rocks. And having to wait till you get all two-hours-of-drive home to call the people involved with your daughters travel plans sucks. And wondering if you're going to wake up with electricity and home phone service sucks. And getting phone calls that they're going to repossess tool-boxes sucks. And all three of your husbands credit cards are now over-limit thanks to fees so now we can tack on more fees, sucks. And trying to concoct something edible out of 4 day old baked dry-ass chicken breast for a man that's doing Atkins for his diabetes and totally ungrateful for your culinary inventiveness sucks. And Gran's estate disbursement took care of all of that.

I have 5 dollars left in my wallet. That's all. But hey, the bills are all paid up and we won't start getting 'hey where is our money' calls until the first week in September when they'll be over-due again. YAY!!!

Except that yesterday, hubby... Prince that he is, told me that when his back-pay and all that comes in from unemployment since the Republicans unclenched, he's going to change the oil in my car and give me $500 and I need to move out.

Here's the kicker; he's been thinking about it for months.

MONTHS.

And the sorry, no account mother fucker let me spend all of my money paying bills for what is soon to be ONLY HIS house.

I'm trying to be classy here, so I will stop myself before I rant. And I'm not going to call him out on facebook this time. Why would I, this did not originate on facebook this time.

I'm livid. I'm also aware that it's time for me to go, so it's not that painful, but to quote M from James Bond, "He's got a bloody cheek!" (You really need to put that into a British accent to not have it sound like he needs stitches.)

I have faith that God will allow me to leave here well, very well. But, that's why I haven't been writing; better to blurt it all out in one OMFG blog post than drag all the crap out for the entire month post by post.

Any prayers would be greatly appreciated; cause July has really sucked.

Apparently, My Computer Hates Holidays

2010-07-09T14:46:00.002-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

I'm sure y'all are wondering where I've been... "Did she start back blogging only to drop us all like hot potatoes again?"

No, I thought long and hard about quitting and then longer and harder about resuming my blog to leave y'all in the lurch yet again.

However, my computer has no such moral compass.

The bitch that I named Juliet died on July second. Yeah, the week of finals. Nice, huh? ~~I swear I'm gonna sledgehammer this bitch the second I am able to replace her~~ Don't talk bad about her though, she may rebel, and I have a 2000-word paper for my new round of classes due on Sunday.

Nice Juliet. Good Juliet.

By the grace of God, I turned in my finals on Thursday night and even stayed up late enough that I was able to submit my final two answers for my participation requirements (which had to be posted Friday). However, my classes are such that the old classes end on a Sunday and the new block of classes begin on the very next day, Monday.

So it was that, even with my finals submitted, I was frantic when I got up Friday and tried to wake up Juliet, but was greeted by the blue screen of death.

A little side note... the same thing happened to me on Good Friday, this recently past Easter weekend.

Juliet, must have had a cousin who suffered a life-altering motherboard incident during a holiday... or something, cause W.T.F?!?

By the way, have you ever tried to get service done to anything on a holiday weekend?

Fucking Nightmare! 'nuff said.

Turns out, after a few hours speaking with ~~many, many, many, many,~~ many people who pronounced words with a lilting Indian-English accent, I finally got someone to not transfer my call after informing him or her that my hard drive went bad, dead and tits-up.

Since I just went through this three months ago, I knew all the tests to perform and the numbers that HP tech support would need, but they still made me do all the legwork with them on the phone, ~~cause I couldn't possibly know what I was talking about~~ so that they could ~~in a marginally understandable accent~~ tell me that my hard drive went bad, died, and was tits-up. *eyerollmaskedbyfakesmile*

Shocker.

I had to let it go for the weekend ~~otherwise I would have gone into an apoplectic rage and murdered all manner of people with accents and electronic equipment~~ which allowed me to read three books and two magazines and still have time to clean the house and do the laundry, and write in my actual pen-and-ink journal, and play with my son and watch my husband and our roommate shoot off some fireworks in the driveway ~~cause that is the one of the few rare benefits of living out in the country~~.

Amazing how much time the computer eats-up when one doesn't just do school and blogging, but also starts playing games on facebook... anyway...

Hubby insisted that I not ship Juliet off to HP, but to take it to his beloved Best Buy.

Somehow, God called in a favor and I got the computer in to Best Buy on Monday, and back from Best Buy on Wednesday morning. Which was wonderful, except that I was a full day behind from the holiday weekend and all of my assignments for this week were turned in a day late, until today, cause now I am actually aware it's Friday and not Thursday.

So I go to work on my participation due today and find out that Juliet has dropped her 'T'.

The fucking bitch no longer has a working T on the keyboard... and I have a 2000 word essay due for Ethnic Diversity class, in which I have to pretend to be a person from a subordinate group and write the paper in journal form with required APA formatted references, due on Sunday.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!? NO 'T'?!? It's not like it's the 'X' key for Pete's Sake!

Luckily, hubby remembered that we had a keyboard in the back, so I am able to blog this and do my schoolwork over the weekend, but obviously, the bitch is going to need to go back to the 'puter doctor for repairs...

Again.

I just keep reminding myself that this and all of the other problems we are currently facing (that I have not covered here) all came on at once. And the only time we (people) get hit all at once is when we're about to come up higher.

Come on God send me the good! ~~right now, as in: this very minute, would be great, thanks.~~

Natural Causes (of pain and insanity)

2010-06-29T09:36:00.023-05:00

Image by BrittneyBush via Flickr

I'm pretty sure I'm dying.

Yesterday, I woke up after two overnight charley-horses. The first one was in the middle of the night and struck my hamstrings; the second hit my calf just as I was getting out of bed. So, I brilliantly decided that I needed potassium and took one along with my morning vitamins and Prilosec OTC.

Then I got to work busting my ass cleaning the house cause it looked like ~~a ghetto shack,~~ ~~a tornado landed and did all it's damage inside my house,~~ ~~somewhere CPS would take children from,~~ a disaster, and I also had to work on my 15-20 slide PowerPoint presentation for medical language class...

Which, btw, I thought I had a week to do. Cause ~~I'm logical like that~~ ~~I don't plan for shit~~ nowhere in the syllabus ~~that I read briefly the first week of class and have barely looked at since~~ did it ever say that a rough draft of this presentation would be due on TUESDAY after a separate, completely different 12 slide PowerPoint presentation assignment that was due on Sunday.

I was a little stressed... I thought.

It turns out that I was a lot stressed.

So I went through the house like Mr Clean on crystal meth for about five hours straight.

My new House Beautiful came in, and I didn't even open the cover! That's serious dedication yo!

When I was down to the last ~~three or four~~ two loads of dishes ~~that were just cups I totally cleaned out all the coffee mugs and that's all that matters any damn way~~, and the last of the laundry was in the dryer ~~never to be seen again~~, I stopped the housework and got to working on my presentation ~~that I hadn't even started yet~~ around 6 pm.

I worked on it for 5 hours straight.

I didn't notice that hubby was watching Avatar again are you fucking kidding me?!? or that the A/C was blowing dead on me as I collected pictures and their references to create my big-ass, 250 point, 20 slide presentation.

Until about 11:30.

When my right trapezoid muscle contracted...strongly.

For those of you without medical terminology under your belt, the muscle between my neck and the back of my shoulder knotted up so severely that I wanted to ~~kill myself immediately~~ cry and it felt like my arm would drop off my body.

I stopped the computer work and took two Tylenol cause we've been out of Advil for two ~~months~~ weeks and two more potassium because I figured that my shoulder locking up like a Brinks truck was an extension of the charley-horse thing I had in the morning. After two more hours of pain, and a massage from hubby that ~~didn't help at all and you're fucking hurting me you ham-handed Goliath, I said rub out the muscle, not pinch it together more *bleeeeeeeppp*!!!~~ was very sweet of him to do, I went to bed.

A little side note here. I got new pillows at Anna's cause they were cheap and because the old ones were completely collapsed, and because the first time I went to buy them, hubby told me, "No." so I decided that the collapsed pillows were the Antichrist and went back and bought the new pillows as soon as I had money in my hot little hand. Except I bought king-sized pillows ~~cause I'm an idiot~~ and they're too big for the queen-sized bed, and they slide out from under my head and there is no way that I'm going to admit that I ~~hate hate hate~~ don't like the pillows ~~cause they were a revenge purchase~~.

So when I woke up this morning, my head had slid off the pillow there's a fucking shocker *grumble* piece of shit pillows *grumble* and I was laying on my right side. So now I have a crick in my neck and my left shoulder has locked up too cause it didn't want to be left out.

Did I mention that although I got the images and the general idea for the storyboard, I have about ten slides left to write.

Ten little scripts that include no less than 3 medical terms from each of the other 8 chapters and I need to incorporate a total of 45 (minimum) medical terms into the presentation, so that actually equates to 5 words apiece from each of the nine chapters.

And I've only had about 6 hours of sleep and now I can't remember if I took my vitamins and Prilosec and Tylenol and potassium with my first cup of coffee because I'm on my second cup.

Kill.Me.Now.

Dragged by Wild Facebook Horses

2010-06-21T17:12:00.002-05:00

Image by gem66 via Flickr

Do you ever just feel drug-out?

Like maybe you forgot to take your B vitamin this morning, but you are sure you did, cause you pulled a total witless-wonder by getting your Prilosec pill out of that blister-pac over the garbage can and it popped right into the trash so you vividly remember being super-careful with the rest of the vitamins and Excedrin that you had to take for the Headache That Ate Manhattan you woke up with.

Do you? Or is that just me?

Along with just realizing that you haven't accepted a single facebook request since Thursday, and now it's Monday so you have what seems like 1400 of them to go through.

I know that's not just me.

Every facebooker has had that experience.

And it takes so unbelievably long to go through all of those requests, that you swear you're NEVER EVER EVER EV-AR going to let them pile up again as long as you live, or until facebook deactivates your account; whichever comes first.

But then a ~~week~~ few months go by and you do it again. And you realize on day two that those requests are piling up, but it already seems like too much work, so you don't even bother till day four and then it takes longer to answer all the requests than it does to slow-cook a 30 pound brisket.

So, you already feel all blah, then you say to yourself, "What the hell, it's not like I've got anything more pressing to do, let me get rid of these *bleeping* requests before it gets any worse!" And the blahness of answering a buttload of facebook requests makes you feel even more blah,and this is where the whole cyclical blahness comes into play.

Because let's face it, requests stop becoming 'gifts' when they number more than 10. After that, they're a pain in the ass.

And that's even for games you like to play, or networking or any of the other billion apps that looked like so much fun or seemed like such a good idea when you started doing them... you know back when you were in the full throws of health and caffeine and vitamin B-complex.

Which only exacerbates the recognition of how blah you feel today as opposed to other days. Until you feel like you've been dragged by wild facebook horses through your 'relaxation' time, and it turns out to not be all that relaxing, but more like another chore on the to-do list.

And relaxation time that isn't relaxing in the slightest sucks basketballs through a garden hose... and not in the good way.

Cause blah feeds into more blah and before you know it you're clinically depressed and eating entire tubs of Breyer's and telling yourself that it won't effect your ability to fit into your mu-mu.

OK, that too, might just be me.

This Year for Father's Day...

2010-06-18T21:09:00.019-05:00

This year for Father's Day, I'm going to give hubby the best presents ever.

I'm going to wash, dry, fold, and put away all of the laundry so when he takes a shower he won't have to dig in the hamper of clean clothes to get dressed.

I won't even complain about the condition of the bathroom when he is finished.

I'm going to give him the big cup of coffee.

I'm going to clean the house on Saturday so he'll have dishes to eat off of, glasses to drink from, a clean floor to walk across, and somewhere to sit on the couch.

I'm going to take him to Denny's so he can eat all the eggs and sausage and bacon he wants without hearing me bitch about doing the dishes again.

But, I'll let him drive so I don't give him heart-failure. I also won't ask where he's going or correct him on how to get there.

Then, I'll take our son out for a while so he can jam to his music at airplane-engine decibel levels without having to concern himself with the future deafness of the boy.

When we come back, I'll cook for him so he can dine on something other than leftover microwaved BBQ.

I'll let him choose a non-animated movie.

And I won't vacuum if he takes a nap.

I'll take Jas every 4.3 minutes to the bathroom because he says he has to pee even when he doesn't because he just wants to flush the potty.

I won't kick him off the computer because I have to "do something right quick, and it's important".

I'll let him know that sex is an option, but by no means mandatory.

I'll kill my own spiders and tree roaches without screaming like a limb is being amputated without anesthesia.

I won't eat potato chips in front of him, because he's on the Atkins diet.

I won't roll my eyes and make little huffy noises when he makes me crazy.

All that, and a card too. What more could a Dad want for Father's Day? See, best presents Ever!

Somewhere Between Dedicated and ADD

2010-06-17T14:55:00.002-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

I want to update my blog. I even had a couple of ideas, but they all stemmed from other things that I had written for various reasons to various people or for various assignments. OK, now I've overdosed on the word various.

I think I operate somewhere between ADD & dedicated. It may depend on the people I'm surrounded with... or it's just cause sometimes I'm really ~~obsessive! No, neurotic. No, well yes, but not in this way... wait maybe I am. Obsessive is actually more accurate but overused.~~ interested (such as when I read a Malcolm Gladwell book in 24 hours or less), and other times I couldn't give a shit if I had 6 bran muffins and a pot of coffee.

Like now, I have an assignment due for my medical language class. The thing about this particular class, since I'm taking all of my classes on the Internet, is that I have to do audio submissions to particular questions and the responses to my classmates. I am sure this is because the teacher needs to make sure that we are capable of saying the words correctly. I mean, some of these words are uber-super-complicated with syllables that make my tongue tie into knots worthy of waist-length, conditioner-free blond hair. You know, words like choledocholithiasis... or nostril. It really just depends on the chapters we're doing that week.

And right now, because I detest the sound of my own voice, I have six tabs open and just realized I need to open another to check my email and yet another to make sure the house I want is still listed, and when I get the dialogue script written in the Word document I have open in the other window, I will have to open another window to record it. Oh look! Calista Flockheart and Harrison Ford got married. I should send them a congratulations email and a gift.

I may have situational ADD. It's a highly specialized form of ADD; probably not, but that's what I'm telling people. It's SO special, they don't even make drugs for it yet... well, not legal ones anyway. Take that Bloggess!

And I know why so many kids are diagnosed with ADD now; They're In School! Fucking Duh! If they were tested by having to sit in front of a Road-Warrior-of-Stolen-Cars-and-Guns-and-Hot-Lara-Croft-Looking-Drug-Whores-on-a-Search-for-the-Princess-and-the-Treasure-While-Eluding-Cops-and-Goblins video games, the numbers would be much, much lower. Someone is going to take that idea and make a million bucks off that game; I better copyright this.

And would you look at this house? I just Wonder-Woman cleaned it on Monday, how the hell is it such a disaster already? Oh, yeah, it's Thursday. I need to hurry up and get off this computer and clean this ghetto shack. And damn, I stink! I need a shower, but I should clean first cause housework makes me all sweaty. But first, I really need to update my blog so I can comment on Bloggess and get the backlink and do the homework and update my facebook status and call my sister and it's already almost 3 pm.

I'm exhausted.

Maybe I should just go back to bed.

A Good 'Ole Gibbs-Style Slap to the Skull

2010-06-14T11:51:00.000-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

I think I may have to start a new series. Those that need a good old, NCIS Leroy Jethro Gibbs style slap to the skull.

I know I've mentioned before that my idea of relaxation is perusing the real estate ads.

Online is SO much fun, because now I can go through the listings and check out the multiple pictures and map where the house is, and really figure out which home I ~~can obsess over for weeks~~ want.

However, I have a few problems with the way a lot of homes are being built. And the super-kicker is how much they want for these homes that contain, to my mind: Major Design Flaws. As in, spending serious money to remodel, design flaws. Now whenever I see one of these I stop looking at the house. Hey Jack, it's not edgy, it's stupid.

Take this for example:

Do you see the problem yet? It might take a minute, but as a mom of a toddler, it hit's me the second I look; you got it...

THE COOKING AREA IS DIRECTLY ON THE ISLAND WHERE SEATS ARE!!!

I see second or third-degree burns in my son's future with that set-up. And they're popping up All Over! What dumbass came up with this idea?!? Whoever they are, they need to go to designer hell.

Or how about this slick 'modern' bathroom:

Do you see the problem here? They have spent all the time and money on creating this nice bath area, which is fine, I like a bath a few times a week...

BUT I LIKE A SHOWER EVERY DAY!!!

And here they've given the occupant a shower the size of a sardine can! If you wash your butt, you're sure to hit your elbow on the door and pop it open, or with the other arm, slam your elbow against the tile. I am not Twiggy or Kate Moss, people! I want room to put my arms above my head (you know, for shampooing my hair!) without damaging myself. And God forbid I put a detachable shower head in there! It will come out so far that I'll be unable to stand under the spray unless I back all the way against the wall.

And I see hundreds of homes with both of these problems Every Time I Look! Is it really too much to ask for a stove away from where my children will sit or a shower big enough to change my mind in? Edgy doesn't mean, make it so dangerous that the occupant walks the edge of damaging themselves every time they use one of the main functions of a room!

Can we line up everyone who has designed a home with these particular design flaws and give them all a huge NCIS Leroy Jethro Gibbs style slap to the back of the head, please!

What I'm Supposed to be Doing... UPDATED

2010-06-10T11:05:00.003-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

I'm supposed to be writing my introduction and conclusion for my final essay in research writing. I'm having trouble concentrating because hubby is watching some horrible movie with either aliens or dead people communicating with 'normal people' and there's a whole lot of screaming and scary music. Predictably, the cop doesn't believe the victim and her world is ending.

I hate that crap.

Scary movies are not my thing.

I have trouble concentrating on writing about anything, much less the propaganda machine that is American media when I'm confronted with terrified shrieks and music that reminds me of The Shining.

That movie scarred me forever and ever, Amen.

Hotels kinda freak me out, especially if I'm the only one walking down a hallway. Rum instantly translates to redrum in my mind. And you couldn't pay me enough to go into a shrubbery maze, unless you paid me enough to buy the land it was on so I could have it torn it down while I recuperated from my mental breakdown.

Halloween made me scared to babysit.

Omen made me leery of 10 year-old brunette boys with blue eyes and doberman pincers.

The Exorcist turned me off pea soup.

Poltergeist made me set the sleep timer on the television so there would never be snow on the screen, and check all my meals for maggots.

Scream made me afraid to go out to the garage for more beer, and thankful that I didn't need to go into school bathrooms anymore.

Thanks to Silence of the Lambs, I assess the motives of anyone that invites me to dinner.

And yet, I wound up in Texas with a man that owns a chainsaw.

Hubby loves those movies.

I, however, love Godfather I & II and Goodfellas and Casino. Hubby hates those movies. He doesn't 'get' them. I understand that he has no context for those movies. I understand that movies these days require an explosion every 3.6 seconds, and by comparison, Godfather seems 'slow'. Because back when those movies came out, the storyline, the dialogue and plot progressed the story, not the number of times things could be blown to smithereens or how many of the central characters could be made to bleed or scream.

I gravitate towards comedies, because I want to fill my life with laughter and use movies as happy escapes.

Maybe if I focus my essay on how the word 'terror' was used by the media during the Bush administration I could write my essay. Or maybe I should just wait till this movie is over and insist on watching The Hangover to rid my mind of the ugliness that is currently forced upon me.

Or maybe, when he goes outside to BBQ later, I will confiscate every scary movie in the house and hide them somewhere he'll never find them... with the dish detergent.

**UPDATED** OK, not really sure what the heck just happened there, but this post disappeared and I had to re-post it~ Which is why, kiddies, you always email yourself a copy of your blog posts! Since I had to go all deja-vu this morning, I decided to enhance the post with a picture that will make your skin crawl for the rest of the day. Cause I'm AWESOME like that!

For a While I Didn't Think I Was Still Me, But I Totally Am

2010-06-07T23:36:00.002-05:00

So I had the big revelation. And the vision. And got the purpose.

And I'm still here.

And that bright, shiny, happy person lasted about a month ~ give or take a week or two.

And then I read Barefoot Foodie and The Bloggess and got inspired, but didn't want to write here cause I said that I was done here.

I started a controlled, cuss-free, spiritual blog for the new me, that I didn't really publicize cause I had no idea what the heck to write there.

I wrote two posts.

One was an introduction; the other said I'd quit smoking (again) forever.

I'm smoking again. I'm irritable again. I yell again. I laugh inappropriately at things that aren't funny to anyone with a sense of common decency. I'm a little less angry. Kind of. I argue with my husband again.

My vision hasn't come true yet. I still haven't hit the lotto. I still hate housework and have no dishwasher. My give-a-damn depends on the day. I'm getting sick of facebook.

I'm still me. My 'reputation' may be more tarnished toward the crazy side, but I'm still me. And I miss writing something other than research papers... and the processes of the different systems of the body (criminitly! It's a medical LANGUAGE class, lady, not med school!)

So, I'm back, if y'all will still have me. I can't promise punctuality. I can't promise weekly rants or features, but I'll be around.

And, fair warning... I'm still me.

Let There Be Light

2010-03-27T09:12:00.000-05:00

It has been a long time readers, and so much has happened in this life of mine that I scarcely know where to begin.

For the third time in my life I have been touched by God and am beaming with light. For those of you that don't follow me on facebook, I won't go into details but this last week has been one of sewage upheaval and transformation unspeakable. I won't bore you with gory details; the time for that is over.

I will say that I have been living in a room with a twenty-five watt bulb, and Tuesday night I wound up three inches from the sun.

I am blissfully happy even though not much has changed in the outward appearance of my life. I live in the same place, with the same people, doing many of the same things I have done for years; but the life I knew is over and I am reborn yet again.

This will be the last post for Aria'z Ink. At a later date I may choose to start another blog, but I am finished with the past and the rants and image of myself that has come to be through this particular entity. I have run my course here and elsewhere in my life, and I am moving on to a new horizon.

I want to thank all of you who were here throughout the many incarnations this blog has taken. Your comments and presence have taken me through some dark times.

May blessings touch you all.

In God and love and light~
Aria

Y'all Are Messing With Me, Right?

2010-02-12T05:15:00.003-06:00

I must be important as far as blogs go, because I get an obnoxious amount of spam comments now. And then there are the comments were I think they're just fucking with me and the comments sit in the moderation folder because I can't decide if they are real comments or not.

Like this one from Anonymous on my last post: "Cool post as for me. It would be great to read a bit more concerning this matter. Thank you for sharing this material."

It could be someone from one of my college classes. Probably the communications one. How else would they know where to misplace the period.

Then there is the academic-online-class-response-to-a-discussion-question tone to it that says, "I didn't even read what you wrote I'm just trying to pass this fucker so I don't have to pay back my student loan yet."

Even though we are in the last couple of days of week 7 in a 9 week class and what you read above tends to be good grammar and punctuation in the "English" class despite many many grammar drills and boring first-year stuff that makes my eyeballs bleed.

It goes right along with how I can not manage to make a graph in Excel despite taking an extra workshop about the use and functions of MS Office programs so that we could use these programs to hopefully pass our classes.

I managed to make a graph that was supposed to chart the amounts spent by month of an annual budget.

The horizontal axis was not months January thru December, but the numbers 1 thru 13.

The bars were not bars, but one single bar, which was the average of the monthly budgets.

I know this because somehow I screwed around long enough with the program to wind up with a little box next to the single bar that told me that the single bar represented the average of the budget for each month and oh-by-the-way, the numbers 1 thru 13 are actually indicative of months.

I didn't know there were 13 months in a year.

In order to turn it in on time I titled the graph, "Messed Up Graph" and posted it as an attachment.

I got a certificate that says I completed the workshop satisfactorily.

Apparently turning assignments in on time is the main goal of college.

I Need to Slap Myself, But I Can't Seem to Get Me From the Right Angle

2010-02-05T05:25:00.002-06:00

Lemme ask y'all this: did you ever make yourself sick. I mean like, if you were seeing someone else do whatever it was that you are doing, would you wanna bitch-slap them with a brick or a cast-iron skillet?

I am about to that point with myself. If I weren't me; I'd flatten myself with a punch dead in the face; then I'd kick my own ass for good measure to wake me up.

I have let things get entirely out of control in my own household. I was actually sort of doing an experiment. Sort of. I wanted to see if my husband would decide that it is not illegal in the state of Texas for a man to give a damn about any of the day to day have-to's of daily life: dishes, laundry, paying bills, etc. I also wanted to see if he would notice that he was living in a ghetto shack with a woman who was as nasty as the surroundings.

Turns out that the answer is an unequivocal, "NO."

I performed this experiment because I wanted to see if it was just me. If I was overlooking the fact that he really was respectful of the housework that had just been finished... I wasn't.

I also got told that I didn't do anything so I wanted to prove to him what NOTHING really looked like.

Just because I choose to almost never leave the house, to brave the Texas outdoors with it's humongous bugs and mud up to my ankles because our yard is made of clay; a clay that when it is rained upon in copious, nearly-never-ending amounts for months at a time, turns into sludge that damn-near takes your shoe off in the trek to the car, does not equate to the fact that I do nothing. When I leave the house, I am REALLY leaving it; not just going to hang about outside trying to get the neighbor's banty rooster to play Frisbee.

Y'all can keep your two week camping, hiking, fishing vacation. I'll take one week in a five star, full room-service luxury hotel. Fuck a continental breakfast. That is who I am love it or lump it...even if I smell like three day old Limburger cheese in August.

I want Evian air piped into my room. I want to go to the spa and be slathered with volcanic mud and sea salt scrubs while I meditate to the sound of Tibetan gongs. And for fun I want to do something that will benefit the entire world, like keeping Diana Krall from ever singing Girl From Ipanema again. Because, let's face it, the only way to get that sheet music is to be a talentless lounge singer from an airport Howard Johnson's.

But I digress...

The reason that I have made myself sick, is not my own stench or the gargantuan mountain of dishes that I must scale today in order to find my kitchen sink. No. The reason I'm sick of me is because I fell into this fuck-it-all frame of mind way too easily. Way.Too.Easily. And I liked it; except for the filth part.

And that made me realize that I am prone to laziness.

Which in turn, meant that I agreed with my husband.

Which means that I am now in training to play Edward Norton in Fight Club. But there is no way that I am burying my face in Meatloaf's man-boobs.

Share on Facebook

Facebook and Universal Timing

2009-12-27T21:00:00.002-06:00

It's called Universal Timing. That thing that happens when you do something and it all falls together beautifully despite the many details and places available for making a mess of it all. Kind of like a Julia Child recipe.

It's also when you want to kick yourself for not doing the thing sooner, but then you realize that if you'd done it way back when, you'd have burnt down the house... or something akin to that on a life choice level.

That's how going back to school tomorrow is for me. For all of you wonderful people that commented on the last post with encouragement, well wishings, and a curiosity for what I'm going to be doing; first of all, let me say thank you from the bottom of my twisted-like-a-corkscrew-heart. As for my major, it will be Health Care Admin with a concentration in Pharmacy Practice. And again I say, I have no idea how I came to that decision. Why I picked THAT major. It's fuzzy in all the details. And yet, so fits me that I can't say one thing against the choice.

I know I was on facebook and saw an ad proclaiming that Moms Could Win $10,000. It all goes gray-fuzzy from there. So it is that I credit my unnatural ability to be on facebook for more hours than I spend on anything else, for being used by the Universe to send me where I needed to go. And because of that, I can't quit my beloved site.

I also had to make a tough but clear decision that until I get used to my new School Schedule I have to stop facebooking to that degree. So, I've decided that the only game I'm going to actively play will be FarmVille. I just really like that one.

But I'm also aware that games like Mafia Wars and Sorority Life require you to have "friends"... mobbies, sisters... so I'm not going to completely block those applications. However, gifts sent to me from these apps will be wasted. I appreciate your game-friendship and thinking that I'm worthy to be one of your 20 people gifted today, but honestly, until I am comfortable in my schedule, I will be ignoring any and all gifts from anything other than FarmVille. If I have extra time I will send out gifts from time to time, please don't reciprocate. Also, don't ask me to join any other games. I'm sure Fish Isle and Farm Town are very enjoyable for you, but I'm not anticipating having time and those too, will be ignored.

Please don't take these declines personally. Working FarmVille the way I do usually takes me about an hour a day. Add two classes to that and a toddler, a husband, a long-distance daughter and a house to maintain, not to mention my own personal care and hygiene needs, and I need to give myself a clear cut game plan of how I'm going to spend my time. Those of you with real lives understand, I'm sure. This is the first time in a long time that I've had definitive "have to's" in my life with deadlines and everything... In other words, A LIFE, and yes, I bought this life online... to answer the bumper sticker.

I was going to put all of this into a facebook email and just send it to my 200+ friends cause that would have been the courteous, unobtrusive thing to do, but facebook hasn't caught up to me and wouldn't let me send the email to my group called Everyone, but wanted me to put in each person separately. Honestly, I do not possess that kind of patience. I use it all up putting my many chickens into rows on FarmVille.

Share on facebook

No Rant Just Rave

2009-12-21T12:24:00.004-06:00

Image via Wikipedia

So, for those of you that have been on facebook you know where I've been... playing FarmVille and writing pithy mini-commentary on my life.... Ok, I'll stop lying now, only the FarmVille part is true.

Well that and watching new Star Trek and The Hangover, both of which are soSoSO much better than I ever anticipated and I could just watch them back to back on a loop until New Year's... which you'd know if you were on facebook.

But a few weeks ago, I realized that my computer time consumption is off the hook. As in, Holy Hell woman, why don't you go offline and actually pay some attention to that cutie pie son that doesn't include you pointing out virtual farm animals. Fucking pathetic.

Then I was also thinking that I really, REALLY needed to do something with my life. Cause... well, quoting movie lines and acing flickster movie quizzes is not going to bring home the bacon... even if they make it a game show cause I just don't have the competitiveness to pull out my own tooth... sorry, I got sidetracked by The Hangover again.

So, you see what I mean? I needed some real, honest to goodness, bankable purpose in my life. I didn't know that, but the universe did. And somehow, seriously, somehow, cause no, I wasn't drugged, but I still can't quite tell you how it happened... I wound up applying for college through University of Phoenix.

Yep, y'all, twenty long years on the twisty road that has been my life, after I grabbed my degree and parted high school with my head and my bird held high, I am going back to school.

I am a Phoenix.

I'm both excited and wondering what the fuck I just did to myself all at the same time. But no matter what I'll at least get my AA, because I promised the universe that even though I'm gonna hit the Mega Million jackpot, all by myself, for Christmas 2009, I would still complete my schooling, because I know the universe put this in my lap, and the universe gets way pissed
when you discount one of it's leadings.

I know this cause three and a half years ago I quit the job the universe gave me and it hasn't given me shit since. And no, my son doesn't count cause I was pregnant before I quit that job; I just didn't know it yet.

Anyway, I'm off to celebrate by watching The Hangover again, followed by a load of dishes and a pat on the back by way of new Star Trek. Cause I'm ~~a homebound movie junkie looser~~ silly like that.

So, I just wanted to let y'all know that I wasn't ~~only~~ wasting my time while I've been away from here.

I wish you all a wonderful set of holidays, whatever you celebrate.

As for me, I'm hoping Santa brings me ~~Chris Pine and Bradley Cooper~~ notebooks cause I start classes on the 28th.

God Bless, Y'all! Happy 2010!

I'm Not PC, But I'm Still People PC, Apparently

2009-12-05T12:30:00.002-06:00

Be honest, you missed my rants, didn't you?

So this morning I got up on the post-sleep side of 8am for the first time in what seems like forever. And I'm doing dishes, cause that is the joy that is my Saturday morning, when the phone rings... at not even 9am.

This kind of irritates me, because it's not one of the distinctive rings that I've allotted to my many friends, family and admirers (ok, I made up the admirers part) but the 'unknown number' ring.

See, I was raised in the days when it was rude to call someone before 10 am. My mother would sooner let us wrestle in chocolate pudding on white carpet than let us call ANYONE friends, family, 911... before 10 am.

And yet, here I am hearing a ringtone that is sure to signal some sort of bullshit call at not even 9 am... while I'm washing dishes... pre-coffee. They obviously didn't know who they were about to deal with.

So I get the Oh-So-Mood-Enhancing computer generated voice telling me that my People PC account was past due to the tune of two months and did I want to speak to a representative. Oh, Skippy, you bet your ass I do!

You see, when we first got the high speed internet, we were going to keep the dial-up account with People PC as a back-up. It was on the desktop in the back room where we couldn't get any bars for the high-speed, so we used the high-speed with the laptop in any other room in the house than the designated computer room. My life is full of ironies like this.

Well, near the end of October we had a thunder storm that caused a big rig to go off the road and take out an entire electrical pole. Snapped it clean in half. Wire was on the wet road shooting massive electrical sparks 20 feet in the air. It is so comforting to know that people driving 20 ton trucks with the capacity for snapping electrical poles like toothpicks can't make a 10 degree turn on a wet road. Does so much for the confidence in life factor with Mr. Big Rig coming up in my side view mirror at mach 12.

ANYWAY...

So, this accident and it's ensuing power outage shot a power spike through the system that must have been like a gadjillion (real word) watts cause it blew out the computer even though it was plugged into a surge-protecting power strip. Yeah. Hey Walmart, I want my money back!

Anyway... again... Thing is, all this happened on like the 22nd of October. Well, People PC calls me last month and I tried to cancel the service. Don't need the dial-up in the back room when I have no computer in the back room. Savvy? These internet nazis, try to say that I used their service and needed to pay my bill so I could cancel.

What? I didn't use your service for this cycle I'm not paying you Jack! Now cancel my shit. I've been getting billed on the 28th of the month forever. The last day the service was used was the 21st. How is that billable for this month when I pre-pay for my service?

This Indian-accented man (dot not feather) talks all over me and tries to tell me that my billing cycle is thru the 21st so I used one day of service and have to pay the full month so I can cancel. I tell him ~~to fuck off and die~~ that I'm not paying it and to cancel me. I hear nothing from People PC again. Problem solved... Not Quite.

So this morning, the second I hear Mr Indian-accented man (dot not feather) on the line butchering my name I tell him that I want to speak to his supervisor immediately. Cause the second Ms. Recorded-Computer-Voice tells me I now owe TWO months I'm seein' more red than a tomato festival and I know these call center lackeys can't help me worth a damn until I get to a supervisor and go all phone-postal so I can get this handled cause I'm not paying for ANY service I didn't use. EVER. Cause I'm hard-headed like that. The People PC phone nazi wants to 'verify information' before I can be permitted to talk to a supervisor.

Oh Skippy Habib, I think not.

I came a little unstuck.

He thinks that he just needs to keep talking over me and making the same request to verify my information and I'll acquiesce to his request. Uh hello? You.Called.Me. At not even 9am in the morning. What the hell do you need to verify?

I wanted to threaten to feed him cow parts.

I didn't. I was politically correct and just cussed him out with a string of blue foulness that only a true vulgarian could have made a coherent sentence out of, cause I have skillz, and no class.

In between my filth-strings of speech, I made sure he understood that if he wasn't going to listen to me, I sure as hell wasn't going to listen to him. I was getting so ~~postal~~ riled up that my voice started quivering. In the world of me, that's like DEFCON 42.

I said his mother did things with farm animals that a crack whore wouldn't admit to and hung up.

I'll bet you next month I get a computerized call saying I owe three months.

A Thanksgiving Weekend Post

2009-11-28T14:38:00.004-06:00

It's Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend.

If y'all are like me, you are sick to damn death of turkey by now. The pies and mashed potatoes are gone but you still have stuffing and too much gravy and holy-hell-are-you-serious-I've-got-so-much-more-turkey-to-go-that-I-could-feed-both-my-own-household-and-a-third-world-country-for-about-a-week.

However, I for one am too poor to send said shitload of turkey to any third world country, so in my fridge it will sit, being eaten slowly so that it has the maximum potential to mock me every time I open the fridge. "HaHaHa Aria! I'm STILL HERE! And I, Mr Gobbles, know that you can't in good conscience eat other food while there's enough of me to feed starving children all around the world, so plate me up again and do your damnedest to control your gag reflex... like when you're giving head." That's what the fucking turkey says to me.

Mind you, it's not entirely accurate. I broke down and made an egg & cheese sandwich last night because I couldn't take it anymore.

Being broke is also THE BEST TIME IN THE WORLD TO GO TO THE MALL ON BLACK FRIDAY. Seriously. I know you're scratching your head and wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Moneyless people, such as myself, should be at home cowering under the kitchen table trying to hide from the talking turkey in their fridges not at the mall!

But you're wrong. Pack yourself a turkey sandwich or six and a big ole thermos of spiked egg nog (or just a bottle of rum cause you can buy a coke at any vendor in the food court) and find yourself a comfy bench or resting place. Preferably in the mall near the entrance to Best Buy but near the center fountain works just as well...you'll probably be right by the Santa setup and oh Nellie, 'Kids Say the Darnedest Things' has nothing on perusing the line to see Santa.

Then sit. And wait. And try to take small bites of those sandwiches so you don't choke to death and become some other people-watcher's laugh of the day... just sayin'.

You will see an assortment of the most hilarious stereotypes on God's green earth. Wild-eyed frenzy will ensue all around you as bargain-hunters fly from one store to another determined to get the best deals, their wallets so worn out that they scream like someone in need of back surgery every time they're opened. These people laden themselves with so many bags and packages that they can scarcely see the walkway in front of them, never mind something else to buy. And if they stop for a rest they're dead cause it would take Schwarzenegger in his prime to hoist all that loot back into carrying position.

Sometimes the pros will bring a lackey, IE: a spouse, to run items to the car once they become unwieldy. This too is fun because after the first car-run the lackey will return in frantic search of his or her shopping maven only to discover them already carrying another full load to go to the car. These shopping-psycho-type-people should rent U-haul trucks for Black Friday. After the third return trip from the car as their Shopinista refills their arms full, you will hear something like, "How'd you find so much more stuff ALREADY?!? I was only gone for ten minutes!" The Shopinista's eyes will roll at their lackey as they refuse to dignify the comment with a response while they're 'in the zone!'

It's comical. Almost enough so that you forget that you're eating your billionth serving of turkey in under 24 hours. A tip for this Black Friday turkey diversion; make sure you take a cab, cause you'll never get parking with all the SUV's in the lot and you also don't want a DUI after downing all that rum. Just be sure to not be so shmammered that you can make your way back to Macy's so the cab can get you there. Cabbies feel safer outside of Macy's than Best Buy.

This Black Friday people watching will now work for you up untill Christmas, but won't be quite as eventful again until Christmas Eve after 2 pm.

Almost forgot that you were having turkey for dinner again, didn't you?

You're welcome.

Is It Too Late To Turn In My Homework Mr. Done?

2009-11-23T21:55:00.001-06:00

I have just finished a fantastic book, called Close Encounters of the Third Grade Kind by Philip Done (pronounced like phone).

I was sent this book several weeks ago with the agreement that I would do a review. Normally, I'd have finished it in a day, because it was funny and smart and had heart, in other words, a great and easy read. Then my personal life went a little sideways and it took me over three weeks to read it, which was ALL ME and nothing to do with the book.

Being that it was written by a veteran teacher, I need to find out if I'm going to fail for not turning in my assignment in a timely manner. I should. I can't do this wonderful tome to 'teacherhood' (Mr. Done's word) justice.

First of all, the chapters are short. For any parent, this is a huge bonus, especially if, like me, you like to stop reading at the end of a chapter and have a toddler running around. It also made it easy to find my place again when my son repeatedly removed my bookmark.

There were passages so humorous that I insisted on reading them aloud to my husband. There were observations on the behavior of 8 year olds that brought me back to both my own experiences and that of watching my daughter's school existence at that age. There was a chapter on one student named Michael that I dare anyone to read without tearing up.

Philip Done loves teaching and children in a genuine and unabashed way. His honesty while describing his own embarrassing moments is refreshing and humanizing. You are with him during the telling of these tales as opposed to watching from afar. You can tell he is able to draw his students in as naturally as he does us, the readers.

It touched me in ways that few books are able; in my nostalgia zone. The smiles spread across my face often during reading.

Philip Done is the kind of teacher that kids want to get and that parents pray their children will get to spend a year with. Although he never really 'toots his own horn' so to speak, his gift for teaching is obvious with each passing page.

You will not be disappointed in spending your time in the pages of this book. I dare say, you'll be quite glad you did. Personally, I found it unforgettable. Things I know will creep up on me in a few years as my own son hits third grade running, and most likely acting very much like Mr. Done's student Trevor.

Whether you're a parent or a long ago student, don't miss this terrific book.

You can thank me later. ;-)

LMFAO Friday ~ I Could Have Lost An Eye Edition

2009-11-13T06:00:00.001-06:00

Image via Wikipedia

So yesterday, the water was being all temperamental and it kept going out on me while I was trying to wash dishes. Even the well doesn't want me to wash dishes. So we had to keep messing with the points to get the water to come back on... and when I say we, I mean, I went to the edge of the back porch and shouted, "water's off again" to hubby who would go fix it.

Until the last time, when hubby was mowing the lawn so he sent Sam over to fix it.

The well doesn't like Sam.

No wait, the well doesn't like Hubby. Sam it LOVES.

I found out we were having water pressure issues when I went to use the bathroom that I had scrubbed and flushed the toilet in about 15 minutes earlier, only to come down the hall and found I had to swim into the bathroom where the water was shooting out of the top of the tank in order to shut off the water valve and use the rest of the clean towels along with the freshly swapped towels in the dryer to sop up Lake Toiletwater from Potty Tank Geyser.

So when hubby comes in from mowing I tell him about my interior rowboat needs, and that he now needs to fix the toilet. Hubby, being the mechanical type that he is, first briefly re-soaks the bathroom and then goes out and checks the water pressure with a gauge. Yeah.

145 pounds of pressure and a quick walk over to the landlord's later...

Basically, if I'd put my head in the sink and turned on the faucet I could have lost an eye. And making pasta for dinner became a test of patience when I had to use Brita-filter water to fill the cooking pot because all the pressure, aside from almost busting holes in the water lines, loosened all the silt and nasty shit on the inside of the pipes and I was not cooking pasta in third-world water.

Do y'all have any fucking idea how small a Brita pitcher is? Seriously. A camel could die waiting for a refill.

Anyway, the water pressure still isn't right. Apparently, the problem decided to wait until almost dark to happen, so it will get worked on today.

I hope.

In the mean time, since hubby removed the restriction plate in the shower head eons ago, I have no need of a loofah. In fact, if I had gone paint-balling I could have sand blasted myself clean in the shower...

or degreased an engine.

Happy weekend y'all LMFAO Friday officially begins now.

see more Epic Fails

You don't think they'll notice, do you Jack?

see more Epic Fails

I'm thinking that editor is like 3 days away from his two week vacation.

see more Epic Fails

And y'all thought the zombie thing was a joke.

see more Epic Fails

OK, the human goes to bed around 10. That's when we get our revenge...

see more Epic Fails

What.
The.
Hell.

see more Epic Fails

...as opposed to taking off and landing...?!?

see more Epic Fails

This is the picture that got the American auto makers the bailout.

see more Epic Fails

Our tax dollars at work.

see more Epic Fails

Vegas is still working out the kinks in it's 'family' personna.

see more Epic Fails

And another life-long therapy goer is born.

see more Epic Fails

Ooooohhhhhh! Oooohhhhhh! Mr. Kotter! I can spot the terrorist!

see more Epic Fails

Those southerners; so polite.

see more Epic Fails

That's when you know; you are karma's bitch.

see more Epic Fails

I told you facebook quizzes were written for zombies.

see more Epic Fails

...or you will be on the next episode of Law & Order SVU.

All The Way To The Craptastic End

2009-11-11T08:48:00.003-06:00

I betcha all are wondering where the heck I went off to.

Well.

You see.

Aside from doing the two book reviews that I've committed myself to doing, I'm going to be very sporadic from here on out... As in maybe only LMFAO Fridays for a while.

As in, I'm not totally ready to throw in the towel, but I am tired of fighting to be here and fighting after I've been here.

Like when I bitched repeatedly about ~~hubby's wannabe girlfriend~~ the roommate I call Sam, and how much I had to hear about it when he got back from "Talk Trash About Aria Day" at our blog reading friends' this weekend. Or how he complains that I'm ALWAYS on the computer even though those of us living in the grown up world know there is no such thing as always or never.

Also, he has let me know, by way of argument, that after living with me for over three years, he doesn't get me one little bit, but only throws his own issues all over whatever I do and say.

Beyond hubby, I have been going through some major crap because I'm working through my own issues in an effort to get past them. In an effort to not bury them so they can grow out of control like a disease and cause problems throughout my life.

This has been misconstrued inside and outside of my home and I'm really fucking tired of defending myself to all the people that think they know, but can't even ask a question, thereby coming to the wrong conclusion and then holding me to their misconceptions.

Which, by the way, is a total bitch.

In other words I'm working on some personal shit... and as all parents know; shit is nasty, it stinks, nobody wants to be around it or help you with it, and whomever has the misfortune of taking care of the shit cares nothing about anything other than getting the shit off of them.

In short, coming up with funny ha-ha posts and trying to censor myself out of more trouble is so far down on my list of priorities since I'm trying to shuck off my shit.

So there you go. My craptastic~ness may or may not continue here or somewhere else.

Only time will tell.

I do have two book reviews to do (which I already mentioned, but am trying to reiterate to soothe my frowning readers) as soon as I finish the books. I'm on the first and it's wonderful, so I hope to have that one to you next week at the latest.

If Friday rolls around and I'm not sticking my head in the oven, I'll do my best to maintain the LMFAO Fridays. It's the best I can do right now, people.

In my absence, I hope that karma is kind and God blesses you all. I'll see you around as much as possible.

And let me just close with a huge thank you for all the support you have shown me since this blog's inception. I am so grateful for your generosity in commenting and encouraging my spoutings. Thank you.

Aria'z Ink

Wow I Missed You... OK, Not Really, But It Sounds Better Than Life Happens

Bitchslapped...er Suckerpunched

Excuse Me Father, Have You Seen My Habit

Impasse

Serial Teddy Holder

Electronic Conspiracy (yes I am loosing my mind, thank you so very much for asking)

Getting Off the Roller Coaster

Getting My Ghetto Drunk On

I Blame the Garden Gnomes

Damn

Sometimes You Have to Duke it Out With Yourself

My Version of Braveheart

Scheduling

Because Sometimes Life Comes Too Fast to Blog It All

Dear Roomie

Not Failing to Communicate in Education

A Crisis of Education

Out of Control and Back Again

Sucking Down a Cuppa Awareness and Trying Not to Choke

How Many People are in That Body of Yours Anyway?

Life Isn't Quite the Suckfest It Once Was... An Update... Finally

Twilight Zone or Sanity? Wait, Don't Answer That.

Because Sometimes I Remember That I Have A Blog...

6 Things I've Learned Since the Last Post

It's Not a Tuuumor

Rollin Me Down the Highway

Time to Move On... Kinda

And That Was That

AP Ziedoü

Icky

Alone Again, Naturally

Just Give Me A Freakin' Break Already.

Along the Same Lines...

Realizations

My Island

Mommy Needs a Time Out

Too Tall

Why Naps Are Not a Good Idea In My House

Back to School Blues ~ Grown-up Style

Something to Say

Battles in Pottydom

Getting On With It

Fly With Angels

Change

The Definition of Irony

July Sucked!! No Wait It's Better! Nope, It Sucks Again

Apparently, My Computer Hates Holidays

Natural Causes (of pain and insanity)

Dragged by Wild Facebook Horses

This Year for Father's Day...

Somewhere Between Dedicated and ADD

A Good 'Ole Gibbs-Style Slap to the Skull

What I'm Supposed to be Doing... *UPDATED*

For a While I Didn't Think I Was Still Me, But I Totally Am

Let There Be Light

Y'all Are Messing With Me, Right?

I Need to Slap Myself, But I Can't Seem to Get Me From the Right Angle

Facebook and Universal Timing

No Rant Just Rave

I'm Not PC, But I'm Still People PC, Apparently

A Thanksgiving Weekend Post

Is It Too Late To Turn In My Homework Mr. Done?

LMFAO Friday ~ I Could Have Lost An Eye Edition

All The Way To The Craptastic End

What I'm Supposed to be Doing... UPDATED