Writers Write, Dumbass.

I pray.

A lot.

One of my most common prayers is, "Father God Almighty, what do you want from me? Please help me. In Jesus' name, Amen."

I've prayed this same prayer many times and when I've been sat on my ass, yet again by life and circumstances, the answer has usually been: Write.

Lately, that's been the only answer...aside from "Breathe, it'll be alright."

I've been using a pen and notebook since my computer went belly-up several months ago. Then Friday,  my super-basic cellphone died.

I was forced into an upgrade.

Sometimes the Universe is awesome like that. More often than not in my case.

For some reason,  if I can chill when things appear to be going as wrong as wrong can be; allow the situation to unfold,  it resolves itself in a way that surpasses what I'd hoped for as an outcome.

I am not going to lie and say that I don't show my cracks when tested.

Friday when my phone went out,  I had more than my normal irons in the fire. Stress over the situation was high and I was completely unable to communicate. At all. With anyone.

Cut. Off.

I was not...at my spiritual best by any stretch of the imagination. Cussing,  raising hell in my empty house,  and finally throwing the offending dead cellphone into a wall out of sheer frustration was how I behaved.

And yet, within a few hours, I had a working upgraded phone with more memory than a few of the replacement computers I had researched.

***mouth hung agog head hung in regret for my behavior***

These are the little faith tests that force one to grow as well as sit up and take notice when you're being told to do other things.

Things that maybe you've been shrugging off because of the limitations your mind has built up instead of seeing them as the purpose for which the Universe has intended.

Maybe, if you pray and the answer is always the same,  you should listen to it and trust that the way will be made if you just do the part asked of you.

So,  here I am with my unintentionally massively upgraded computer-phone, and writers write, Dumbass (me Dumbass not you Dumbass).

Once Upon a Time...When I Had My Computer and Give-A-Damn at the Same Time

Once upon a time... you know, like last year when I had my computer and a pretty healthy dose of spare time and give a damn... I swore that I was back. 

I updated the look of things and I wrote and I was doing really well, writing-my-blog-wise.

Then the money went away.

And then the computer died.

And then, because of the last two lines, the spare time went away... and now it's been a while fucking forever, quit lying to these people!  since I've posted and life is all different kind-of, it's not like I moved to Nepal again.

Good news is, I'm back to writing. Bad news is, it hasn't been here.

I think it's going well... but, we'll see.

Somehow, whenever I profess an upswing, life takes that as a personal challenge to blow up a bunch of stuff and I wind up sounding like I should be committed for saying that things have been alright.

Anyway, it's July 2016. I haven't posted since November 2015. And if anyone other than spammers still show up here AT ALL, it's a miracle.

And I've been writing this almost exact post for nearly five years now, so I'm considering whole heartedly giving up the ghost and quitting Aria'z Ink.

Mostly because I almost never have access to a computer when I feel like writing a post, which is no where near every day anymore, but also because I'm not even close to being the person I was when this whole experiment started in 2008.

It's like having a child, pouring everything you've got (time, money, attention, affection) into it for three years, and then neglecting it until it winds up in juvie for18 murders and a crack habit at the ripe old age of eight while you've run off and married someone the kid hates.

You kind of want to wash your hands of the whole situation, but by the same token, it's your love child and you put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into it. Besides, the kid is cute and has one hell of a personality even if she did develop a murderous crack habit

So what do you do? 

Call Johnny Cochran and set up a payment plan? Which probably won't work because Johnny's dead, but he's one snake-sharp lawyer, and if anybody could come up with how to charge money from the other side, it's Johnny. He'd probably get a shit-ton of tax breaks for his newfound other-side income since he'd pull the "I'm Dead" card  just like he waived OJ's gloves around.

But then the Feds would figure out how to charge income tax on the people that are dead, just like they did to some poor New Jersey mother who is now responsible for all of her deceased son's student loans.

Then John Edward and Amy Allen would be completely overrun by people asking them to file their deceased tax forms! I wouldn't give a shit if they bothered the hell out of Zack though, because he's a tool.

Plus, it's not going to matter anyway, because we're still going to wind up with either Hillary or The Donald in office and we're pretty much fucked after that regardless of whether we're dead or alive.

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The Box of Miracles - Day 30

I have completed an entire month on the program.

To be fair to the program, I must give you MY disclaimers.

Number one. I did NOT exercise. I kept feeling better and had more energy and saying that I was going to exercise... aaannnddd it never happened. My house is a little cleaner because I could go longer and get more done, but truly, aside from the laundry & housework & errands that I do everyday, I did nothing.

Number two. I did not eat sensibly for any of my meals. I did my two shakes a day, and then I ate whatever we were making for everyone else for dinner. I ate lasagna, sausage & potatoes, tortellini with meat sauce, and Chinese buffet (to give you some examples). I maybe ate 3 salads all month (which is totally normal consumption for me).

Number three. The super-magic-melt-you concoction is the Cleanse product. You can do a one or two day cleanse per week.  I did two 2-day cleanses in 30 days; not four.

Number four. I only did program-provided snacks about half the time. The rest of the time, I ate things that were approved by the program or not at all. You're not supposed to skip snacks, I did sometimes. There were days that I was not hungry between shakes. Yeah, never thought I'd EVER say that phrase!

And, Number five. I didn't always drink all the water I was supposed to in a day. Before the program, I might have slugged down 2-3 bottles a day (less than the 4 that makes your normal 8 glasses). I started at 283 lbs and according to the program, especially during cleanse days, optimum is about half your weight in water. There was no way in Hades that I was going to get 141.5 oz of water a day every single day. That's 9 bottles a day. Sometimes I made it, sometimes I didn't. If I got 6 I was more than satisfied with my water consumption.

Bottom Line: The program did ALL the work.

End result of 30 days on an amazing program and doing it like an actual human being who breathes, not a robot having to stick to a billion rules, regulations, and calorie counters... *drum roll please*

I lost 16 lbs (pretty good for 30 days on a traditional diet--ie. rabbit food, starvation, and killing yourself at the gym 5 days a week). So to eat what I wanted around the program and still have these results is amazing.

BUT THE WEIGHT LOSS WAS THE LEAST OF IT!

I lost 35.5 INCHES off of my entire body in that month. (that wouldn't even happen on 4 months on the traditional diet!) PHENOMENAL.

Best part is, that wasn't the best part. Seriously! It's the most visible part, but the best part is how I feel.

My joints don't hurt anymore. My hips were so bad before this program that I would literally get into the car and commute all of 15 minutes for work, and get out of the car like I was 80; barely able to walk. That's gone.

My hair and nails grew more quickly, and my hair got super shiny. My skin isn't a disaster area anymore. No breakouts even during hormonal times.

Speaking of which, my hormones got their shit together. I rarely have hives anymore (which was a daily struggle) and my hot flashes have literally disappeared (previously between 6-10 daily).

My mental clarity has returned and I haven't had coffee in 30 days. I used to need two coffee bowls before I even made it to work in the morning. Then I would drink 2-3 cups and a 44 oz. Coke in the afternoon to stay awake. My ex-co-workers can back me up on this.

My body recovers from strenuous activity more quickly. Yesterday I woke up after 5 hours of sleep. I hand-washed, dried & put away two loads of dishes. Washed, line-dried, folded & put away two loads of laundry. Cleaned the kitchen. De-cobwebbed the ENTIRE HOUSE; vacuumed ceilings, ceiling fans & light fixtures, walls, cabinets, and speakers. Dusted. Cleaned floors. Cleaned out the fridge. Bagged and took out garbage...The whole whammy with a lot of overhead work. A lot of shoulder use and strain.

I woke up this morning in no pain. Last month, I wouldn't have gotten all of that done in one day AND I would have been in bed damn near dying with an Advil-mainline drip today.

And last, but not least, my immune system is much stronger. Over the last two weeks, I've had Honey and two kids here, sick, and cared for by me.  They had fevers. They threw up and slept for hours on end and looked like death warmed over. I DID NOT GET SICK. I felt a little run down for about a day.

What I didn't feel like all month long... Like I deprived myself or had to work to achieve the results I got.

I really should have pulled my shirt tighter for the day one pictures, but I was pretty much filling it out without a lot of leeway in the shirt (plus I felt terrible about how I looked so I really wasn't able emotionally to show all the rolls)

Day one

Day 30

Day One

Day 30

My final 30 day analysis: Worth Every Penny and Then Some.

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Chronic Hope Junkies With Schitzophrenia

Writers are crazy.

What you really mean when you tell someone that you're a writer: Hi! I am a self-absorbed, chronic hope junkie with passive-aggressive attention issues and schizophrenia. 

We say that we're writing for us and that we don't care what other people think.

The first part is kind of true. It is a sort of therapy. I mean, how else can a person cope with having multiple characters talking inside our heads in multiple story-lines other than getting them out on paper and expanding them to make cohesive sense of the insanity? 

However, the second part is a complete and total lie. We are neurotically desperate for anyone who reads our work to like what we've come up with. We live and breathe on that hope.

Every time we publish something we become Sally Field at her most embarrassing public moment. Because, in our heads, we've realized glory, fortune and the sort of fame that still allows us to go to the grocery store, even though we could totally send someone else if we wanted to.

We have as much of a chance of realizing that reality from our writing as we do of hitting the lottery.

Our interpersonal relationships usually suffer because we're better at communicating on paper; and you have to seclude yourself to write. But we love company. But we can't stand being in public. But we need other people to bounce ideas off of. But we're extremely emotional and too much companionship hinders us.

We're subject to random sparks of inspiration... All. The. Time.

There is no such thing as a normal conversation with a writer. We jump track and go boldly where no man, woman, or child has gone before; and sometimes, there's a good reason why no one has. Because we're crazy.

In our heads, we're re-writing what you're saying and collecting your features and mannerisms to incorporate into our characters. We're expanding on your story line. 

You tell us that you went to the gas station, bought gas and cigarettes and drove back to the house. 

In our heads there was a robbery, a car crash, a turf war and a love story with pyrotechnics. It all plays out on our mental screen as we sit with a plastered-on-smile and a dim far-away look in our eyes 

We can't help it. It's an addiction that lives in us and has been there since we were as itty as a bitty gets. I've been writing since first grade. Even when I walk away from writing and live my life, I always come back to it...because the addiction calls me. 

I can't imagine what Stephen King's elementary teacher had to go through reading his creative writing assignments. She probably called his parents in for a conference concerning his mental state and what was considered appropriate material for a school essay...right after she peed her pants.

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Box of Miracles-Day 21

So, what else can the Box of Miracles do?

It can give you a professional life that saves you from a J.O.B.

I always wanted to help people. I had a vision years ago (a post for another time!) that I was going to be a philanthropist. I never knew how, but I had faith that one day I would hit the Lotto and be able to fulfill my calling.

I didn't realize that being a philanthropist is so much deeper than handing people wads of cash. It is truly helping others.

The Box of Miracles made me confident in my ability to help other people.

Whether they are simply looking for the best program to accomplish their physical goals or they want to transform their financial life, I have a solid answer for them. I have no reservations about telling people that I personally know (and would have to answer to if they weren't happy!) about this program. 

And that is ALL I DO.

I talk to people and share what I know.

I earn excellent compensation for my time and knowledge when I'm just running to the gas station and seeing someone that asks me about my Facebook posts. I go to the grocery store and run into someone who remarks on the fact that I'm melting and I'm able to help them with their physical struggle. Easy. As effortless as recommending a movie or cell phone.

It allows me to earn more in one week than I used to make all month.

I no longer need overtime nor do I calculate my earning potential by the hours I punch in to someone else's time clock. And here's the real kicker, instead of trying to keep me from earning additional money, this company is dedicated to helping me increase my income.I do not have to wait for six months for a raise. I will never be told again that my raise is not in the budget. I have the power to increase my income any time I choose. 

Let me repeat that for all of my hard-working friends with J.O.B.'s.

I have the power to increase my income any time I choose.

HOW?!?

This company takes all of their advertising budget and through the process of direct marketing, gives it to the people that sign other people up. We do not price gouge. There are no hidden fine print loopholes to payouts. It's all up front and is the same for the millionaires and the "I started last week" people alike.

Multiple people just like me have become millionaires by doing what I am doing in two years or less.

I now have concrete, ATTAINABLE goals of joining their ranks... actually being a millionaire before age 50 after 20+ years of doing low to mid-level customer service and administrative jobs.

I wanted to loose weight while I was looking for a J.O.B.

I found both in one product from one company that delivers bigger and better than I could have ever imagined before I started.

Win. Win. WIN.

I'm so glad I stopped procrastinating and made the one decision that changed everything.

Can I get a Hallelujah for the Box of Miracles?!?

Hallelujah!

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The Box of Miracles-Day 20

There is one "complaint" that I hear in Facebook groups full of people that have also found the Box of Miracles:
"I wish I had started sooner!"

I use this product. People I know use this product. We have had astounding results. The science behind the results is verifiable.

Every single person on this product becomes a healthier version of themselves because all of the targeted programs cleanse away years of toxicity and replenish the body with scientifically proven nutrition.

Long story short, it takes the crap out of your body and refills it with what your body actually needs to perform the way it was designed to perform.

It is a novel concept here, in modern day America, with our fast food and chemically processed and enhanced raw ingredients. Our government sold out for higher profits years ago, and our bodies (along with the rest of our lives) have paid the price.

Despite the corporate climate of America, there is a company that CARES about people. All people. That caring translates into products that assist everyone in building healthy cells despite the environment in which they live. And make no mistake about it, if you are breathing, your body is building cells.

Every person that uses these products benefits from them.

A bold statement in this age of disclaimers, but a true one.

Now, I started the weight loss program because I'm a tank ass. I released from my body over 31" and 16 pounds in 15 days (yes, it's my day 20, but I don't weigh and measure again till day 30 so these are my most current numbers). My son simply needs the correct nutrition for his growing body. My parents would focus on healthy aging. A finely tuned athlete would concentrate on muscle growth, stamina and quick recovery times. There are different programs targeted toward addressing your own individual needs.

You have one body to get through your entire life. 

Make sure yours can go the distance you want to go.

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Apparently When I Leave the House I'm In Colorado

I know about the upcoming full moon, but I'm pretty sure the real problem is that everyone is on dope. Mr. Hand was right.

Yesterday I had to pick up one of the kids at school and people all along the route had gone completely and utterly I swear I am going to wind up in jail behind these people stupid.

First everyone not exaggerating was driving so slowly that we were consistently 8 mph below the speed limit. 

I make a turn by the school and find myself behind an older gentleman what the hell are you doing Grandpa Higgins in a truck who is barely rolling what the hell is he stopped for... in the dead center of the street you are in town around the corner from the school at prime pick up time and I can't even get around your ass... texting faster than I do WTF... in a school zone where are the fucking cops I'd have already been pulled over and ticketed. I'm certain glaucoma medication was involved.

Then I'm going 60 mph on a road out of town slow speed for that stretch of road and a huge brontosaurusmobile welding rig pulls out in front of me and goes 5 mph WTF! Brakes don't fail me now!!! OH Holy Christ on a cracker!  wheew we're not going to die until we're both passed by another car now I can see the road ahead is clear around your brontosaurusmobile. So then I also go to pass because he's still going 5 mph Fucking Seriously Miss Daisy?!? and the jackwagon speeds up to keep me from passing him This motherfucker is trying to kill us! we're almost in the curve now! but I get around him You no account sorry son of a bitch trying to kill us! Don't you see I have a child in the car?! Howd'ja like that birdy, ya bastard! and turns off as I stare incredulously into the rear view mirror immediately. I'm convinced that he too was indulging in herbal remedies.

And finally, to top it off, I come upon a pair of non driving country redneck fucks gentlemen who were performing attempting to perform is more like it a right hand turn sweet Jesus help me he's turning on the street I need to turn on  from the left lane  you are in a short bed pick up not a semi with double trailers, genius going, I kid you not, 2 mph how is he even doing that? My car goes faster if I just take my foot off the brake. He finally; my deceased grandmother drives faster in reverse completes the turn and proceeds along his merry little way totally staring at me the entire time in the side view mirror like he escaped from Deliverance at the self same 2 mph again, seriously, I can't get my car to go slower than 5 mph without breaking down the center taking your half of the road right out of the middle like the little piggie you are of the road which, while a country road, has a lot of traffic and it's not like I don't see you seeing me in the rear view mirror which is so super creepy that I'm pretty sure you're a serial killer. In fact, you look like Ted Bundy. Plus there is traffic coming towards us so I can't tell if your homicidal or suicidal because of the hour. We finally get past Ted Bundy's copycat killer. Pretty. Damn. Sure. this guy and decide that he must need some antipsychotic drugs with those crazy eyes be a stoned serial killer.

The rest of the trip was uneventful Thank GOD! How much more can one woman take in a single trip? Now I want to get stoned.

We finally make it home and my Honey asks, "How was the drive?"

My first thought was, "Everyone on the road is stoned out of their fucking minds, and I faced a serial killer!"  But he's been telling me lately to tune it down on the drama which makes me envision shanking him in his face. Allegedly.

So I simply replied, "It was normal for this time of year. in Colorado maybe!"

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The Box of Miracles- Day Eight

Let me tell you a little story about a woman from New Jersey.

She got married out of nursing school to her high school sweetheart, had two children, and acquired a house with property and relationship misery that resulted in divorce when her children were six and three years old. She'd grown heavier, and newly single, she began to experiment with dieting.

She tried them all; Weight Watchers, Lean Line, Overeaters Anonymous, Optifast, among multiple others. She would last a few months or a year or so and not get the results she wanted or would stray because they were difficult with her single mom life.

The house revolved around these diet and nutrition changes.

Year after year it went this way. The woman's sister also battling with her weight. Sometimes they'd go on the same diets. Then both sisters' children grew up and they too had weight issues. The children started going on the same diet programs; they commiserated as cousins the failures and successes they were having.

And collectively, they all gained and lost many, many times. They stopped telling each other about their diet programs. While they all perpetually dieted and fell-off diets, none of them found something new to share. The results were always the same, after water-weight loss, the scale moved at a glacial pace and they were exhausted and sick to death of whatever they'd been eating. They were basically all a waste of time and money, but hey as long as they were dieting, there was always the hope that the miracle would be found. Even surgery wasn't the miracle. Talk about a let-down!

Fast-forward to early 2015.

Karen, one of the cousins, started a new program. She heard about it from her friend Denise. They had been co-warriors in their respective battles of the bulge for many years. Denise was getting jaw-dropping results. Very, very quickly. Karen bit. Karen started to get jaw-dropping results too! Also very, very quickly. She told me about her success months ago.

I was hooked! I wanted in! Now!

*SUPERLOUDSCREECHOFTRUCKTIRESBREAKING*

It's how much? HOW MUCH?!?

I won't tell you what I said, but I will say that it involved the services of both a masseuse and a gigolo.

So I sat by the sidelines; watching, waiting...trolling Karen and Denise on Facebook, drooling over their photos.

And I knew how to get there, but I had other financial commitments! I have kids and a house and a car and phones and...

Just. Like. Everyone. Else.

The first time buy in for the package I needed was a full paycheck (if I didn't have deductions and did have overtime). Yeah, every month after that would be less, but that first chunk was hard to wrap my head and my wallet around.

NOT HAPPENING. TOO MUCH. CAN'T DO IT.

But the program and its promises, the visible results from Karen and Denise haunted me. I saved up. And I started showing My Man the posts. And we got excited together and talked about doing the program the way people talk about what they would do if they hit the lottery.

Labor day weekend done, I return to work to find I no longer had a job. I filed for unemployment and was awarded less than half of my net income for a 40 hour week.

Now we're REALLY broke.

We find out there's a business side to the program.

Denise works the full time business side of the program. She announced on Facebook that she had replaced her corporate salary where she was employed for 20 years--I don't know the math, but living in Texas is a lot less expensive than living in New Jersey.

The dollar signs flashed in my head.

We did more research, and the business side of the company has created 136 millionaires in 13 years. I like those odds! People are becoming millionaires by doing something that is good for them, feeling better, gaining lean muscle mass, dropping inches, erasing wrinkles...and simply telling other people what it has done for them...BECAUSE THE PRODUCT WORKS. It DOES all of that, and more. Everyone has their own transformation story.

Now, I'm not just buying into a "weight loss program" but a business which has as much income potential as I give it, because all I would have to do is tell people the truth about what it has done for me and people that I personally know. I would help people achieve concrete change in their bodies and anyone that does the program can get paid to do it... by a reputable company.

I drank the Kool-aid.

We finally managed a way to order the program. Secure in the fact that it came with a 30 day money back guarantee (because I was still jaded and wanted a way out in case it didn't work for me like it did for Karen and Denise). I started the program on October 16, 2015.

Today is my first measure milestone--Day Eight. I have been on the program for seven full days and I have lost 23.75 inches. I have energy. My skin is glowing. I'm thinking more clearly. Every inch of my body inside and out is improving because I'm doing this.

Every failed dieter mantra that I have heard in my own head over my 36 years of dieting is evaporating in the glow of concrete results.

Everywhere I go people that recognize me are asking me what I'm doing.

I still have two and a half weeks to go before my 30 day money back guarantee expires...

THEY CANNOT HAVE MY BOX OF MIRACLES BACK!!!

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Back By Popular Demand (yeah, I know, I don't believe it either)

So, here I've been, living a quiet life in the country. 

Staying busy with work and home and kids, staying off of Facebook (other than sharing memes), returning the satellite, and kissing the internet goodbye (other than my cell phone)...

Unplugged.

Paying attention to real life and real people.

Working.

All with, to, for, by, and about people that didn't even know I wrote...well anything other than warranty submission stories. When I would tell them that I had a defunct blog it was like I was talking about someone else.

Nobody in real life cared, and I was too tired to consider spending time on something as frivolous as a blog.

One day, *poof* job is gone.

So, I started a home business with complete approval of my man otherwise he would have killed me about eight ways and buried me in several undisclosed locations. Allegedly. where I get to help people with an amazing product that CHANGES LIVES! Truly. Including my own! 

I started a home business; now I have to do network marketing.

So I got back on Facebook.

And I started reconnecting with people that have known me for so long that they knew me under other names. 

Now for some insane, unfathomable, you've got to be fucking kidding me reason, the Universe has decided it's time to resuscitate my deader than Hillary Clinton's scruples defunct blog.

But I am hugely flattered that I recently have had more people ask me about this blog and my writing, or tell me that I need to breathe life back into that which I had given up for dead.

I don't know why. The Bloggess herself, the NY Times Best Selling Author of Furiously Happy, Jenny Lawson used to read my blog.True Story.

So here you are, my fans Jesus Aria, you sound like a total douchebag. I pray that I do your exalted you're hallucinating! are you on fucking LSD? memory of my prior work justice.

For better or worse, over two years later, I'm back.

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Myyy House

Come over to My House (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Myyy house is a very, very, very fine house *fine house*......

No cats in the yard though... because we have a house full already.

One amazing, hard-working, super social, Superdad Man. One amazing, hard-working, kind of OCD, NotEvenCloseToSupermom Woman. Four amazing, super social, GoodGradeAcheiving, athletic, church active teen-agers. And on a part-time basis; one amazing, super curious, JustFlatActive kindergartener... in one house.

We should be a reality show...with some Jerry Springer shit thrown in by the universe.

So, Easter Saturday *c'mon people you know what I mean, try to keep up with the story! My calendars run on real life time. Easter Saturday. Mom's Birthday Monday. Sally's Stageplay Friday...anyway, I digress* I was graced with a day off. 

To top it off... I had off the next Sunday morning.

My first YouDon'tHaveToGetUpAt5amToBeToWorkAt6amSundayMorning in an entire year of working for Timewise...  and my man was home for his first Saturday off in a good minute too.

Just us. How romantic.

I spent it cleaning.

It had reeeeeally gone to pot over spring break. All of the kids were gone for the weekend, and it was time to R E C L A I M  the house. 

For just us. For a day.

Eight and a half hours later: All the used cups, dishes, bowls, and utensils were collected from the far corners of the house, and the kitchen was cleaned down to the last dish, counter, and corner of the floor. The bathrooms were all freshly stocked with toilet paper, towels, and washcloths; they were both swept, mopped, wiped, scrubbed and bleachy smelling. The garbage cans were empty AND replaced to where they had begun the day *a feat around here*. There was no laundry of either the clean or dirty variety on the couch or the floor, and the hardwood floor was swept in its entirety. I washed one load of my work clothes and told laundry mountain to fuck off... cause enough is enough.

My wonderful man fed me well and did all of the run-around errand list; bringing back supplies and sustenance while I was on my HormonallyFueledOCDtearassFrenzy mission to restore our home to rights. We each splurged on a two liter of soda that we liked and knew would be there in the fridge...untouched...until WE finished it and threw it away; and each of us got our own separate, favorite large bag of chips that WE could eat to our heart's content and go back later and eat AGAIN without the bag being empty or disappeared all together. 

Call us selfish.

With five kids, pretty much anything you put down is subject to use and or total removal.

Anything.

I ate Ruffles and drank Coke on my breaks from housework. When I went back to snack on them again that evening after dinner... They were there... just as I'd left them... In my clean house.

It was glorious.

I left for work just as the kids returned home Sunday mid-afternoon. By 12:01 Sunday night, various items were strewn about the clean house...the Ruffles and Coke were gone... reality had returned.

I kept up with the housework through Wednesday mid-morning before I left for work.

Today is Friday.

It should only take me four hours to clean house today.

WHY?!?!?!?!?!?

...because adults see a clean home and think: Oh thank GOD! All I have to do is pick up after myself and it will stay this way. 

...but kids see a clean home and think: Hey, if I've got maid service, I'm making the most of it. She's going to earn her maid-pay today!

I may give up the valiant fight... for a nap.

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Reality

HAVE TO: Be to work @ 2 pm.

SHOULD: Hair-dye; face masque; mani/pedi with polish; shave; shower; tweeze.

NEED TO: Laundry (two loads minimum); dishes, dinner prep; straighten whole house; wipe down all hard surfaces; sweep; bathroom garbage can in from outside; create weekly budget; download check stub; write contract.

WANT TO: Catch up on sleep; fuck; get stomach pains to quit (eat, dumbass!); have an amazing, life-perspective altering, wonderfully awesome break-through; goof-off on facebook.

CURRENTLY: Smoking and drinking coffee while sitting down doing nothing @ 9 am. 

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All the Happy Changes...

Love and Money (album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Long ago and far away a blog post was written... and the writer was never heard from again.

My postings here have become undeniably sporadic (at best) and for that I do apologize (to those of you who still even read my rabble).

I've largely unplugged.

Due in part to willingly giving up my computer most days to the teenagers in the house; due in part to living a life full of people and doin's that don't involve my spending time on the computer.

I know... ME... the woman that wrote a love post to her 'puter. 

But sometimes when prayers are answered, they take you in directions you could not have predicted in your happy little scenario of what you hoped for... which is actually better.

I'm one of those people who never seems to get exactly what I had envisioned, and most times instead, I get exactly what I really needed.

I had been praying quite simply... for love and money. There it is God, do with it what you will; that's what I want, please handle it Father.

I got a man with four children at home that took me into his life. And the five of them healed me in ways and places that I had forgotten were, in shards, broken. They help me grow. I am undoubtedly a better person than I was before him... before all of them.

I got a job... with potential... who knew? God and my man knew. Because of them both, and my age and experience, I am doing well financially... for me anyway. I have a long way to go, but I finally feel strong and centered enough to run with the ball that I'm blessed to be carrying after all this time.

Between the love and the money, getting what I asked for couldn't be sweeter. I work hard, put in a lot of hours and enjoy the people in my life beyond the keyboard. I'm looking at houses for rent. I'm looking to replace my 12 yr old car because I commute now and need one with less wear. I'm looking forward to building a great life with my children front and center in it, so they can see how Mama rolls... when she hasn't let her life be run by someone other than herself.

Which is something I had done for a really long time. 

I don't know why I was so afraid to run my own life. I kept handing it over to my men... and let's face it, when it comes to picking the right guy for me, I suck at it.

Until now... but that was mostly due to my angels taking the reins out of my hands... Thank GOD! Because the man I have now doesn't even try to run it... he just helps me run it, and that makes a huge difference.

So it's Good Friday... and all my Fridays are good now... and getting better every week.

Thank you God. I love you too.

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Media Lemmings and the Demise of Veracity

Image via WikipediaSeriously?

The Today Show showed a segment about pets being kidnapped (obviously someone in the writers room deciding to scare couples who have pets instead of kids). Springer had two women wrestling in BBQ sauce over a guy (kudos to the girlfriend who jumped out, slapped the man and said that he wasn't worth it... in a much more colorful way than is portrayed here; even if she went along at first.)

So again I ask, "SERIOUSLY???"

We are such a populace of lemmings, willing to follow each other over the cliff into the death of mental reasoning.

A people willing to reiterate whatever they hear from the bought-and-paid-for media as absolute truth without doing any follow-up research on their own as to the veracity of the content. Yet, we're convinced to the point of passing along news that we have no idea about (beyond an Ann Curry report) as if the fate of the free world depends on our conviction as we reiterate what we think we know.

Let's be honest here, the integrity of the media went out the window long ago, but we have the temerity to showcase William Randolph Hearst as if his pioneering tactics in controlling the news were so insidious because he was one man.

Now it's being run by conglomerates... but the same tactics are employed. Control of the perception of the public with a slant toward consumerism.

We denounce all of the cover-ups of the past as so scandalous, but we fall for the ones being perpetrated today with no thought whatsoever.

The news makes you fear rapes, murders, and war; then conveniently shows ads for home security systems during the commercial breaks.

Duh. Wake the fuck up, People! It's pathetic.

Aren't we better than this? Or are we simply so complacent in our mental atrophy that we have nothing left to think that isn't programmed into our media-laden lives?

We just don't want to know? No, we don't. We have jobs to do, and kids to shuttle around as we let government preside over more and more of our lives because it's just easier to shout outrage at the laws they're passing than to accept responsibility for our own actions.

Seriously! (again!) Let's pass seat belt laws because someone I know chose... CHOSE... to not wear one and I miss him or her and no one else ever on the face of the earth should go through this pain so let me regulate that everyone else in the foreseeable future to keep another horror like this from happening, and let's fine anyone who doesn't tow the line to pay for my $20K a year raise from my brand new designer desk.

A potentially good idea turned to a money making enterprise because people aren't willing to take responsibility for the actions of themselves and/or deal with the actions of the others in their immediate orbit. Emotional projectile vomiting on the public with an eye on turning a profit.

Stupidity used to be the survival-of-the-fittest way to weed out the population, now we HAVE to keep EVERYONE alive!!! But the only way to do this is to lower our standards until most people are stupid and let the government, through it's media outlets, decide how best to run our lives... let's face it, more people means more money and greed rules the day, under a thin disguise of compassion.

Think I'm talking crazy? How long have movie stars and the rich and famous 'sold' various fashions? How far fetched is it to think that the brainiacs of this country, under the multi-trillion-dollar financed company, called the federal government, tapped into this mass-mind-control method and decided to sell their ideas to the public this way?

Step one: Reduce the IQ of the population by feeding it nothing but mental junk-food; Springer has been on the air for 20 years... Survivor, American Idol... nothing thought provoking. Nothing topical. No Meat and Potatoes for the brain.

Step two: Drive the country into the ground like ya stole it cause you did George W. Bush by inflating emotional response and inciting war with your co-conspirators, because emotional responses reduce critical thinking. Fill our heads with keywords like 'terror' to put us in that fearful mindset year after year until we beg our leaders to do something to 'protect us' because we're so scared we can't think straight.

Step three: Sling shit and sell, sell, sell until we have a completely complacent society that we control with our earning potential through what we tell the media to portray. More people means more money and more money means that I can afford to survive when Earth reaches it's carrying capacity and people start dying off in droves because I'm rich through the aforementioned tactics and I've got the means to afford the Gucci insurance.

*frustrated eyeroll*

I guess what I'm trying to say is, "Quit Buying In". Stop the apathy and think beyond what is said on facebook or the 5 o'clock news.

I won't say any more because I don't want to be targeted by whatever government agency it is that assassinates those who think freely and try to pass along some iota of common sense. CIA? FBI? NSA?... Nah, I'd probably be gunned down by the FCC.

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Breathe

Image by Getty Images via @daylifeWell, I've gone back over to an old site that pays (very little) for writing online articles to order.

It's just as mind numbing as I remember. For one thing, the article topics never seem to be of interest to me, even when they're in fields in which I have knowledge or interest. I guess that's what they're paying us poorly for... to illicit interest in topics that sound as thrilling as watching paint dry in a room with no lights.

However, where I have had some good fortune lately as far as my writing goes, is in my long threatened book. That is going more brilliantly than it ever has. Buuuut, not exactly lucrative as of yet.

So I have to breathe. Like Faith sings, "...just breathe"

It's both harder and easier to breathe these days. Easier because things are going quite well in almost every area of my life; except financially. Which makes things harder on my man, and by proxy (and conscience) on me.

He doesn't complain. He doesn't make me feel bad about it. Which is incredible per my past experiences, but it does make it very difficult for me to not bring in money. He deserves better, namely help with some zeros after it.

Earning has never been my strong suit. Never.

Budgeting with what is available, that is my strong suit. But it's a bit brassy to tell someone who is earning the money how to spend the money better when you aren't earning any yourself. No matter how good the advice is, it is counter intuitive to accept it. I operate best on OPM, mainly because OP have more M than I could ever hope to have. Knowing this, as sure as I'm breathing, makes it difficult for someone with my money hang-ups to speak up.

And writing isn't even paying my bills, much less contributing to his.

So I'm going to have to juggle more than I have in a very long time: a good relationship, a full time job (one of those elusive buggers has to come through eventually!), his kids, my kids, and serious writing time and effort in order to fulfill my destiny.

When God loads your plate, He loads it full. Now I just hope He also gave me enough mental, emotional, and manual dexterity to not lose my balance and dump everything on the carpet as I'm walking through.

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Hormones Rear Their Ugly Head... Again

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I don't know about you, but my hormones are making me crazy.

Yes, some of it is age, but most of it is that wretched bitch, Florence...and yet again, I do not mean Italy, and some of it is situational.

Hormones plus bad past life experiences plus current issues can raise hell even in the best of relationships; one of which I currently happen to be in. Even so, what my hormones are telling me I am hearing is not what is being said, and I am in the process of imploding.

One would think that seeing the implosion as it is happening would mean that I should be able to stop it cold and get back on track. It should mean that.

However... what it does mean is that I speak and act and project my issues... unabridged... and that can get ugly. Fears and insecurities seeping out for anyone wise enough and with enough give-a-damn to recognize them wrapped in their armor of bitchiness. Those that are not or do not, find themselves run through with my rapier. While those that are or do get the nicks and cuts all the same.

My sharp tongue doth cut a swath! (sorry, I'm reading Girl With A Pear Earring by Tracy Chevalier... It's returned my thoughts to my thrice ingrained Shakespearian training)

Seriously though, my mother has told me for years that my mouth was going to get me into trouble. I'm a verbal mess. Which is probably why I prefer to write... I can edit myself.

So I find myself feeling incredibly precariously positioned even though I'm in less danger of messing up than I think I am; if I get off my ass and do what needs to be done without the snarky comments. My past is just rising up to meet my circumstances and slap me around a little.

Ah, the vast landscape that is the battlefield of my particular mind. Its a battlefield we all face though, in our own way. But the committee in my mind has grown wise... and sneaky. Instead of shouting at me until I was nothing more than a vessel, bursting forth with exact phasiology from inside my head; now it whispers gently, almost imperceptably... but with greater manipulation.

So I am left to tame the shrew as it were, and not behave as one.

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Generosity of Spirit Movement

I used to post LMFAO Fridays because let's face it, I had an aecerbic wit.

That particular brand of wit only comes out once in a while now... just not feeling all that aecerbic.

I'm too happy for aecerbic. Which is a little bad for writing comedy, because there's no tension, except for the conditioned drama inside my own mind...and even that has become infrequent and easily quieted. Life's good. Makes writing snarky comments hard. So instead, I'm changing to a new program.

Kudos Fridays are more along the line of my current thinking... a Generosity of Spirit Movement if you will.

Inspired by a picture I found on facebook this morning. Thank you to the 'PUNK' in the picture for your showing of joy and consideration for another human being; may we all be as generous during our respective days.

Taken from  Kristine Grandt but only because it was reposted by one of my facebook friends, and of course I then turned around and reposted it as well...

Psst... let's all pass this one around and start a Generosity of Spirit Movement! Isn't it all about being the change you want to see in the world?

Took me 40 years to get that one concept.

What you put out there (to the Universe) comes back to you. And I for one could stand a world full of people that are generous of spirit. Seems we (as a whole of humanity) have forgotten to treat other people as... People.

We've forgotten the Golden Rule (refresher!): Do unto others as you would have done to you.

And it shows.

Everywhere.

In the cart-blocking lady at the grocery store who couldn't give a hoot that she's taking up the entire lane, but expects you to go around her... let me break that down:  EXPECTS... you... to go around her... so that she should not be bothered having to show the slightest bit of consideration for other... human beings... while she makes her selections.

When did RUDE become the American standard INSIDE AMERICA?

Apparently, obviously, this is how we got the world reputation of 'Rude American'.

Like it or not, that's our proper title internationally.

I'm sick of it being indicative of any trip out of the walls of my own home... Thank God it's not the way I live...anymore. I sure spent my fair share of years in hostile environments that I called home.

I've found a new way. Kindness, generosity, thoughfulness, and consideration for others. And it comes back to you. So put out there what you want back. If you're tired of your situation, change your attitude and things WILL improve... and let me say to the microwave, video-game, instant download generations... It takes more than one act, or one day, or one week... If you truly want it to change, INVEST- in your future surroundings... by being generous of spirit everytime you are able for the rest of your days.

I promise; smiling from the inside out is so worth it.

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Sometimes You Get What You Asked For

I feel this urge to write... feels like forever since I was able to get onto my own computer. Well, that's kids for you... which is a good thing.

I...I...I...(gosh I sound selfish!)...I...I...I... (oh thank God! some me time! Oh shit, what do I do with me time anyway?) who am I kidding... I'm going to wind up doing for me by doing for others around me. It makes life a whole hell of a lot more pleasant. Like belting out Fall Into Me by Sugarland full throat with no one home...

WHOA! Buh-sted! Of course I was singing it for my man...who was at work, but came in to me 'killing cats'... I HAD THE HEADPHONES ON!!! Talk about mortification! I asked for it *hugeburgandyblush!!!*

And when I say that I asked for it, I mean that even before I hit preschool I used to sing to Sesame Street cast members in my living room... I've been asking for someone to sneak up on me and catch me singing forever...most notably when I was belting it out alone...to someone in particular...who would, of course think I sounded phenomenal...but I was killing cats

Which isn't exactly the way it turned out... but I got what I asked for. Sometimes it turns out better than I expected, and considering... eh, I'll take it. He wasn't mean about it (and I've had that before!), he didn't interrupt me (I've had that before)... He let me belt it out in full and then made his presence known and in no uncertain terms let me know it was bad, but gently. I can live with that.

Oh well, Baby! It sucked rocks, but I meant every word.

Blessings, and may your long ago wishes be granted; even if it makes you uncomfortable.

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Oh What A Beautiful Moooooorning...

I feel like...Gordon MacRae...

"Oh what a beautiful moooooorning! Oh what a beautiful day...."

It was from the movie Oklahoma, and my father used to sing it in the car when we'd drive somewhere. He also used to sing Zippidy Do Dah, but I knew that was from Song of the South because I loved that story about br'er rabbit tricking mean ole br'er fox and br'er bear.

Guess I always loved the underdog that became the top dog stories; or maybe I just enjoyed being in on the joke. Maybe life is finally letting me in on the jokes...a little.

Because it is a beautiful morning, Mr. MacRae... Despite all kinds of life circumstances that should probably have me on my knees, I'm standing tall and smiling from the inside out.

I'm happy. Truly, deeply, light-filled happy; and I can tell you, that hasn't happened in so long I didn't remember what it really was like. Oh, I've had glimpses of it over the last several years, but achieving it for any length of time just didn't happen. Until recently.

Being surrounded by Divine connections will do that to a person, regardless of what the world throws at 'em.

Did you ever find yourself in a conversation and all of a sudden snap-to, realizing that a question had been asked of you, and answered by you totally absent of your conscious thought?

I haven't had that happen very often, but it did four months ago. A regular customer at the store whom I had had slightly more than the standard-customer-banter with came in and asked me out. He asked me if I had a boyfriend and I answered him, "No." before it even registered.

Those were my angels. Making sure I didn't miss my blessing.

I'm a romantic, so I'll spare you the hearts and flowers and just put it like this: I've met many people who have made me want to be a better person; he helps me be one simply by being himself.

Everything he saw as a personal detriment in himself, is something I see as wonderful about him (or at the very least, doesn't bother me in the slightest). He feels the same about me. He fits... in all the ways I asked for, even when I had no idea what getting them would look like in real life. It's mind blowing in the best sense.

But Wait!!! There's More!!!

I know I posted last year about my unlikely friendship with Mrs. Tex-ex. Well my girl came through with such a major blessing and total friendship that we have literally become bff's, in the high school equivalent of grown-up friendship... up to, and including sleep-overs and help moving when I lost my apartment a few weeks ago. A long lost soul-sister that heals me as I heal her over morning coffee and cigarettes after Jas goes to school.

Sometimes it's by marathon texting sessions when the weight of the world seems too much; too inwardly, intimately, brutal to trust anyone else with the details of the vicious inner workings of our brains as they shred us to pieces. We share them without fear of condemnation; exorcising the darkness by examining it with the light produced when the two of us get together.

If I ever finish a book, one of the dedications will be to Tex-ex thanking him for having the good sense to throw me out and marry his wife. It was the best thing that could have happened to all of us.

Want the kicker? My boyfriend, Tex-ex, Mrs. Tex-ex and I are all on great terms. Like hanging out and having dinner and the kids all playing in the yard kind of great terms.

Is this a great life or what?!?

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