I'm sitting at my desk, knowing I have other things I SHOULD be doing and my phone starts buzzing. (It buzzes because I keep the sound off all the time, which is why I miss most phone calls and texts, but at least the sound is off.) I glance and see it's a Kansas number. Not recognizable, yet I was excited anyway; I don't know why.
Unfortunately, it was an automated voice saying they had "exciting news" for me and I could have a FREE $1,500 security system installed at my house in Kansas. All I have to do is allow them to put a sign in my front yard. So little for all that security, right? (They actually asked a question like that over the phone.) Well, the type of security that'd make me feel better is insuring nothing else will go wrong, nothing else will break, and that the house sort of just takes care of itself. If they can guarantee that with a sign, that'd be great.
And since they probably can't, especially since "they" are just a robotic voice, I hung up. After doing so, I realized, our tenant probably would be okay with a sign. And then I reminded myself there was probably more to it than that, there always is. You can secure yourself with THAT knowledge.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Isolated Occurence
I've lived in what has felt like isolation for over two years. I have minimal contact with other adults. And since most of us spend our communicative methods texting, e-mailing, and Facebook commenting, the time I spend actually talking to other human beings is increasingly rare. What's humorous about this is the poor girl who stopped by our house this morning picking up a shelf I was giving away in a local Facebook group got a lot more than just a free shelf.
She had the opportunity to speak with a reclusive housewife with a lot of nervous energy.
My chatterbox ways aren't anything new. I used to believe what a lot of other people thought- that I was outgoing and liked to talk. Over the years, I've learned that is not the case. I'm actually quite shy and awkward and I talk a lot to get through a situation. Or in this case, I talk a lot because I haven't spoken to other people in a really long while and the chance for human interaction is a golden opportunity. It was a welcomed change. And maybe I should be welcoming change a bit more.
The truth is, one of my most favorite parts of the move is the fact I didn't know anyone and very little would be expected of me socially. I've enjoyed the time alone. The issue with this is that an awkward person like me needs to practice how to socialize with other humans. Something that was already difficult has gotten a lot more difficult over time. However, I think the girl who stopped by today and has a four month old infant doesn't necessarily get a lot of adult human interaction herself right now, so perhaps we were in good company.
I can't be the only one who faces the conundrum of enjoying being a wallflower, but also secretly wishes to be inside the social circle. I can't be the only recluse who still gets lonely from time to time. While I love spending time by myself, there is an occasional part of me that misses visiting with other people. I miss my friends in The Midwest. I miss my coworkers who were also my friends. They both understood that I wasn't a social butterfly, and yet loved me anyway. Probably because they weren't social butterflies either. There were few expectations, other than being in the company of beautiful, articulate souls.
I'm never going to stop having way too much nervous energy. I know that. It comes with being high energy. It comes with being me. I'm going to ramble and talk entirely too much sometimes. There are only a few people in this world that I can sit in absolute comfortable silence with them and say nothing, yet have a worthwhile conversation with them just the same. And unfortunately, those people do not live in my state. And that's okay, really. Eventually, I'll fly back for a visit. And really, it's probably okay to talk someone's ear off on the sidewalk this morning while her little baby boy just listened in delight and smiled at all of my facial expressions and hand gestures. I think instead of calling myself out for being too weird or panicking that maybe I came across as insane, I should just thank my lucky stars that I squeezed in some rare social time this morning because I know can't possibly be the only person to have done so. And even if I was, that's probably okay too.
She had the opportunity to speak with a reclusive housewife with a lot of nervous energy.
My chatterbox ways aren't anything new. I used to believe what a lot of other people thought- that I was outgoing and liked to talk. Over the years, I've learned that is not the case. I'm actually quite shy and awkward and I talk a lot to get through a situation. Or in this case, I talk a lot because I haven't spoken to other people in a really long while and the chance for human interaction is a golden opportunity. It was a welcomed change. And maybe I should be welcoming change a bit more.
The truth is, one of my most favorite parts of the move is the fact I didn't know anyone and very little would be expected of me socially. I've enjoyed the time alone. The issue with this is that an awkward person like me needs to practice how to socialize with other humans. Something that was already difficult has gotten a lot more difficult over time. However, I think the girl who stopped by today and has a four month old infant doesn't necessarily get a lot of adult human interaction herself right now, so perhaps we were in good company.
I can't be the only one who faces the conundrum of enjoying being a wallflower, but also secretly wishes to be inside the social circle. I can't be the only recluse who still gets lonely from time to time. While I love spending time by myself, there is an occasional part of me that misses visiting with other people. I miss my friends in The Midwest. I miss my coworkers who were also my friends. They both understood that I wasn't a social butterfly, and yet loved me anyway. Probably because they weren't social butterflies either. There were few expectations, other than being in the company of beautiful, articulate souls.
I'm never going to stop having way too much nervous energy. I know that. It comes with being high energy. It comes with being me. I'm going to ramble and talk entirely too much sometimes. There are only a few people in this world that I can sit in absolute comfortable silence with them and say nothing, yet have a worthwhile conversation with them just the same. And unfortunately, those people do not live in my state. And that's okay, really. Eventually, I'll fly back for a visit. And really, it's probably okay to talk someone's ear off on the sidewalk this morning while her little baby boy just listened in delight and smiled at all of my facial expressions and hand gestures. I think instead of calling myself out for being too weird or panicking that maybe I came across as insane, I should just thank my lucky stars that I squeezed in some rare social time this morning because I know can't possibly be the only person to have done so. And even if I was, that's probably okay too.
Monday, October 5, 2015
I Was in a Bit of a Funk
In June. I decided to drastically give up sugar. It's something I had considered for a long while, and inspired by Kevin Smith's own personal journey, I too decided just to give it up. But unlike Kevin Smith, I didn't experience massive weight loss. I'm happy for Mr. Smith, thrilled even, but for me, it was an unhappier version of events. My clothes felt tighter, much tighter. And my personality seemed to change. I didn't have some surge of energy or overwhelming sense of joy. About six weeks into this voyage, I broke down and bought a scale. I tend to abuse scales, so I rarely allow myself near one. I felt like the situation called for one, and sure enough, the scale read a number that seemed "off" to me. Now I have no idea what sort of weight I may have added, but I will tell you that another nine weeks after buying that piece of evil, I have gained eight pounds. My fifteen weeks without sugar and processed foods has been an official bust. I'm sure it's a healthy choice for many, many people, with spectacular results, but obviously, my body had other plans.
I'm not telling you this to feel sorry for me, because I don't blame Kevin Smith anymore or the lack of sugar. I know good and well something had to have been wrong before this sugarless coma I've been experiencing. When I'm in a funk, I tend to torture myself, deprive myself of things. Some people cut themselves, I tend to go on fasts. And I do so not realizing I even do it. In this case, I took sugar away from me, sending my blood sugar straight to Hades, and causing my body to store extra fat for the winter. My body has been through a lot over the years, and with my history with starvation and other fun party tricks, my body always prepares for hibernation in case we're having another long winter. I don't expect that to make sense to you, I'm not even sure it fully makes sense to me.
So sugar aside, I've been in this funk of sorts. I can't tell you when it started or the reasoning behind it. I don't want to call it depression, because that's not my style. I will tell you that I knew I wasn't myself, but I had no idea how to be myself again, or who that even is or was. I will also tell you that I've absolutely hated feeling like I'm stuck in this transitional phase on the West Coast. We've been here two years and three months. This is no longer a transition. This is our life.
We've lived in a transitional mess of a bedroom for that entire time and the room has only gotten worse as time has passed. I absolutely hated living in that room. I really hated it. I kept insisting in the last couple of months that I wanted to move into the guest room. Mister Man didn't understand what the fuss was about it, and he even made the mistake in asking what the hurry was, as though two years and three months was a hurry at all. The walls were a mess of textures and colors and chaos. I couldn't stand it anymore. My surroundings were swallowing me whole. The second room I spend the most time in is also still stuck in transition. And frankly, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of living in transition, because no one was meant to live in a transition....
And if there's anything I hate more than change...it's the transition.
One vital fact about me: when I'm drowning, I tend to swallow water, start to sink, and eventually as I'm almost down for the count, I start to push my way to the top with some sort of rush of adrenaline. I'm happy to report that the adrenaline has reached me. The answers to these feelings hit me as I was sinking to the bottom. I needed a bedroom I could sleep in and not wake up and be reminded how much I hated that room and possibly even my life. I needed a headboard on my bed. I needed action to happen. And I needed to be important. And I probably needed some sugar too. But I'm taking baby steps on that last one. I don't have a normal relationship with food. Most former anorexics/bulimics don't.
Our bedroom walls have gone through a lot in the last week and a half. Much like my emotional state, they've been primed, layered with joint compound, smoothed out with a trowel, somewhat textured, primed again, and painted. My skin may never look normal again, but the room is coming together. We have new summer bedding, just in time for fall, the lamps are attached to the wall (which is a big deal, since one of them has been new in its box in our closet for two years and three months), and all the tape has been removed. I still need to pick out new baseboards and trim, paint all of the doors white, paint the furniture, do the ceiling, and figure out what we're putting on the walls. It sounds like a lot left, but you wouldn't know it if you saw it, as most of those things are merely things I want done. Hopefully we'll get to the office in the spring. And there's still the matter of removing wallpaper in our bathroom and sprucing it up. But for now, I'm feeling a bit more ownership of my space I call home.
The problem is that when our first tenant got behind in rent and didn't seem to realize she needed to pay us back (and she never did), I stopped spending any money on this house. I also made the mistake of telling myself I couldn't start any other projects or updates until our bedroom was finished. If Mister Man had his way, we never would have. Then the house in Kansas kept needing new things and it still does, so I was living my life for that house for someone else and not living it here. I think Mister Man was okay with that, he didn't really seem to notice, but it was doing something to me emotionally. Also, I wasn't venting these frustrations properly. I was allowing all of this to fester, and I think you know what happens when things fester....
I'm not going to stop living realistically, knowing we have two houses to take care of. I'm not that type of person. But I need to take care of my needs. Otherwise I'll pull another stunt, like giving up sugar or holding everything in until I drive to an empty parking lot just to scream my head off. Not that I'd ever do that....
There is a part of me yearning to work again. And maybe I will do that. But I also know that the part of me yearning to work, is also yearning to be smothered in chaos to the point I won't be aware anything is wrong. Also, I was ticked that we had five weekends just home doing nothing, which joined months of doing very little out here. I'd rather work than be home every week and every weekend. I felt trapped, like a rat in a cage, and I HATED it. I'm still sore over some of those things, but I'm working on that as well.
In the meantime, I have some creative juices flowing and a potentially new project, which could solve some of my other issues...like lacking an outlet. I'm attempting to figure it all out. The positive point I'm trying to make is that I've recognized there was a problem within myself and I'm trying to get myself back on track. There have been a lot of promises, and with my memory, I haven't forgotten any of them, or especially the fact most of them were empty. I sacrificed a lot for this move, and while I probably don't need to continue pointing that out, especially to myself, it shouldn't be a surprise that the sacrifices would eventually weigh me down. Therefore, I think I need to start unloading some of this emotional weight, because two years and three months is a long time to be storing it and it's only getting heavier over time. Hopefully, that's all that pesky scale was reflecting. I'm ready to purge. I'm ready to be out of this funk.
I'm not telling you this to feel sorry for me, because I don't blame Kevin Smith anymore or the lack of sugar. I know good and well something had to have been wrong before this sugarless coma I've been experiencing. When I'm in a funk, I tend to torture myself, deprive myself of things. Some people cut themselves, I tend to go on fasts. And I do so not realizing I even do it. In this case, I took sugar away from me, sending my blood sugar straight to Hades, and causing my body to store extra fat for the winter. My body has been through a lot over the years, and with my history with starvation and other fun party tricks, my body always prepares for hibernation in case we're having another long winter. I don't expect that to make sense to you, I'm not even sure it fully makes sense to me.
So sugar aside, I've been in this funk of sorts. I can't tell you when it started or the reasoning behind it. I don't want to call it depression, because that's not my style. I will tell you that I knew I wasn't myself, but I had no idea how to be myself again, or who that even is or was. I will also tell you that I've absolutely hated feeling like I'm stuck in this transitional phase on the West Coast. We've been here two years and three months. This is no longer a transition. This is our life.
We've lived in a transitional mess of a bedroom for that entire time and the room has only gotten worse as time has passed. I absolutely hated living in that room. I really hated it. I kept insisting in the last couple of months that I wanted to move into the guest room. Mister Man didn't understand what the fuss was about it, and he even made the mistake in asking what the hurry was, as though two years and three months was a hurry at all. The walls were a mess of textures and colors and chaos. I couldn't stand it anymore. My surroundings were swallowing me whole. The second room I spend the most time in is also still stuck in transition. And frankly, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of living in transition, because no one was meant to live in a transition....
And if there's anything I hate more than change...it's the transition.
One vital fact about me: when I'm drowning, I tend to swallow water, start to sink, and eventually as I'm almost down for the count, I start to push my way to the top with some sort of rush of adrenaline. I'm happy to report that the adrenaline has reached me. The answers to these feelings hit me as I was sinking to the bottom. I needed a bedroom I could sleep in and not wake up and be reminded how much I hated that room and possibly even my life. I needed a headboard on my bed. I needed action to happen. And I needed to be important. And I probably needed some sugar too. But I'm taking baby steps on that last one. I don't have a normal relationship with food. Most former anorexics/bulimics don't.
Our bedroom walls have gone through a lot in the last week and a half. Much like my emotional state, they've been primed, layered with joint compound, smoothed out with a trowel, somewhat textured, primed again, and painted. My skin may never look normal again, but the room is coming together. We have new summer bedding, just in time for fall, the lamps are attached to the wall (which is a big deal, since one of them has been new in its box in our closet for two years and three months), and all the tape has been removed. I still need to pick out new baseboards and trim, paint all of the doors white, paint the furniture, do the ceiling, and figure out what we're putting on the walls. It sounds like a lot left, but you wouldn't know it if you saw it, as most of those things are merely things I want done. Hopefully we'll get to the office in the spring. And there's still the matter of removing wallpaper in our bathroom and sprucing it up. But for now, I'm feeling a bit more ownership of my space I call home.
The problem is that when our first tenant got behind in rent and didn't seem to realize she needed to pay us back (and she never did), I stopped spending any money on this house. I also made the mistake of telling myself I couldn't start any other projects or updates until our bedroom was finished. If Mister Man had his way, we never would have. Then the house in Kansas kept needing new things and it still does, so I was living my life for that house for someone else and not living it here. I think Mister Man was okay with that, he didn't really seem to notice, but it was doing something to me emotionally. Also, I wasn't venting these frustrations properly. I was allowing all of this to fester, and I think you know what happens when things fester....
I'm not going to stop living realistically, knowing we have two houses to take care of. I'm not that type of person. But I need to take care of my needs. Otherwise I'll pull another stunt, like giving up sugar or holding everything in until I drive to an empty parking lot just to scream my head off. Not that I'd ever do that....
There is a part of me yearning to work again. And maybe I will do that. But I also know that the part of me yearning to work, is also yearning to be smothered in chaos to the point I won't be aware anything is wrong. Also, I was ticked that we had five weekends just home doing nothing, which joined months of doing very little out here. I'd rather work than be home every week and every weekend. I felt trapped, like a rat in a cage, and I HATED it. I'm still sore over some of those things, but I'm working on that as well.
In the meantime, I have some creative juices flowing and a potentially new project, which could solve some of my other issues...like lacking an outlet. I'm attempting to figure it all out. The positive point I'm trying to make is that I've recognized there was a problem within myself and I'm trying to get myself back on track. There have been a lot of promises, and with my memory, I haven't forgotten any of them, or especially the fact most of them were empty. I sacrificed a lot for this move, and while I probably don't need to continue pointing that out, especially to myself, it shouldn't be a surprise that the sacrifices would eventually weigh me down. Therefore, I think I need to start unloading some of this emotional weight, because two years and three months is a long time to be storing it and it's only getting heavier over time. Hopefully, that's all that pesky scale was reflecting. I'm ready to purge. I'm ready to be out of this funk.
Thursday, September 24, 2015
My Love of Blogging Escaped Me
Unfortunately, I stopped blogging last year. It appeared I was blogging, but I wasn't. Not really. I censored myself. While I had promised myself I never would, I did. And I took all the fun out of it and eventually, I didn't see the point in doing it anymore. I have all of these blog entries I've started in my head, on paper, on my computer, and even in my phone, but they never make it here because somewhere along the way, I told myself that not all of the people who read this blog are really going to care about those topics. So alas, I didn't blog them. The problem was, I really hate using this blog just for photos of day trips and shopping excursions. It was never supposed to be about that. That was to be a very small part of what my blog was about. But I'm a people pleaser to a fault, to a fault that people don't even recognize that I am a people pleaser. The other issue was, I don't like posting things on this blog that I share on Facebook. And what I share on here, I don't share on Facebook, and vice versa. And then this blog replaced Facebook for a short while, and it was never supposed to do that. And then it bothered me. It bothered me a lot. It bothered me that I no longer felt I had an outlet to put anything. And I'm still bothered by that. Since moving over two years ago, I have been isolated from everyone and everything. And there is a part of me that hates it, I mean, really hates it. This blog was to keep me sane during all of those changes and the isolation, and in the end it hasn't done that. Because I allowed myself to turn it into something it was never supposed to be. And mildly passive-aggressive me then just stopped blogging altogether aside from giving some pity posts; bottling up all those feelings, and until the last month or two, I had no idea how awful of a case that was.
I will eventually blog my feelings again because I need to. I really need to do that for myself. I need to be able to vent politics and family and observations and frustrations because that's why I have a blog in the first place. I will post things that aren't always happy and that people won't necessarily read. I'll post imperfections. I'll post photos, but only if I want to. And if someone wants something else, I'm on Facebook, posting the things on Facebook that Facebook was designed for. I will no longer make myself feel like I have to be something else, someone else or censor myself because that's been going on my whole life and it's not healthy and it's not helping me. I live my entire life for other people, and while I don't exactly expect that to change, I need an outlet. And not having one is killing me. Maybe that seems melodramatic to you, but perhaps you're not that type that is expected to be a million different people. And I am. By a lot of people, as well as myself. And at some point, that needs to stop. But while I work on that, that's why I don't stop by here much anymore, aside from forcing myself to post an occasional series of photos, photos I'd rather only post on Facebook. This entry seems angry, and it's not meant to, as I'm not really angry. But I'm not happy either. And I don't like me when I'm not happy, especially when I realize it's because I'm not giving myself a chance to let out all of the feelings I harbor all day long, the things I never allow myself to say. So while I figure out what's going on in my head, please forgive me for no longer being able to post things I wouldn't read myself.
I will eventually blog my feelings again because I need to. I really need to do that for myself. I need to be able to vent politics and family and observations and frustrations because that's why I have a blog in the first place. I will post things that aren't always happy and that people won't necessarily read. I'll post imperfections. I'll post photos, but only if I want to. And if someone wants something else, I'm on Facebook, posting the things on Facebook that Facebook was designed for. I will no longer make myself feel like I have to be something else, someone else or censor myself because that's been going on my whole life and it's not healthy and it's not helping me. I live my entire life for other people, and while I don't exactly expect that to change, I need an outlet. And not having one is killing me. Maybe that seems melodramatic to you, but perhaps you're not that type that is expected to be a million different people. And I am. By a lot of people, as well as myself. And at some point, that needs to stop. But while I work on that, that's why I don't stop by here much anymore, aside from forcing myself to post an occasional series of photos, photos I'd rather only post on Facebook. This entry seems angry, and it's not meant to, as I'm not really angry. But I'm not happy either. And I don't like me when I'm not happy, especially when I realize it's because I'm not giving myself a chance to let out all of the feelings I harbor all day long, the things I never allow myself to say. So while I figure out what's going on in my head, please forgive me for no longer being able to post things I wouldn't read myself.
Monday, September 7, 2015
Pixie Sticks & Taffy
For the third Labor Day in a row, we found ourselves at the Crocker Museum for their Buckaroo Days. This is important to The Redhead because they have a petting zoo. And today, we only went for the petting zoo. (And for my Favorite Two to laugh at some art, which wasn't fine by me.) We also went to Old Sacramento for their Gold Rush Days. This wasn't really going on last year, but we attended it the year prior. It's hard to believe we've been in this state that long. Sadly, I have no photographic proof we were in Old Sacramento today, but please know we went. We had to go. They have pixie sticks and cupcake taffy. These are two very important details to The Redhead. Much like petting zoos.
Also, I did take photos of The Redhead wearing white while petting livestock. As long as she's not wearing white after Labor Day, it's okay, right?
For the first time, we parked in the Old Sacramento garage and walked to the art museum. It was a short walk and we had a few photo opportunities.
Overall, it wasn't a bad way to spend Labor Day. I'm almost guessing next year will look similarly.
Also, I did take photos of The Redhead wearing white while petting livestock. As long as she's not wearing white after Labor Day, it's okay, right?
For the first time, we parked in the Old Sacramento garage and walked to the art museum. It was a short walk and we had a few photo opportunities.
Overall, it wasn't a bad way to spend Labor Day. I'm almost guessing next year will look similarly.
Saturday, August 29, 2015
The Trolley Cart
On Wednesday, The Redhead got out of school at 12:10. This is only important to mention because we then went miniature golfing. We love to monster mini golf. Under the black lights. One minor snafu- my black shirt doesn't glow under the black lights, but all of the little white doggy hairs I didn't know were on my shirt did. Also, all the primer I smeared on my arms while priming and sealing walls was glowing, all the little dots and smudges, looking like stars in the sky. I was not amused.
After golfing for monsters, we ended up at the neighboring Old Spaghetti Factory for a snack.
That reminded us of two things:
1.) We haven't eaten dinner there in a while and we need to.
2.) We have never eaten in the trolley cart yet. The trolley cart is fantastic.
So this brilliant idea hit me as we had chocolate mousse cake and spumoni at our table. We made a reservation for tonight at 5:30. They couldn't guarantee us a table in the trolley cart, but guess what? We managed to score a table!
So tonight, we dined in a trolley cart, just as The Redhead had so desired. It was perfect.
My photos aren't though, as they are all from a cell phone, but they shall do just fine.
The Redhead glowed nicely. Without dog fur.
After golfing for monsters, we ended up at the neighboring Old Spaghetti Factory for a snack.
That reminded us of two things:
1.) We haven't eaten dinner there in a while and we need to.
2.) We have never eaten in the trolley cart yet. The trolley cart is fantastic.
So this brilliant idea hit me as we had chocolate mousse cake and spumoni at our table. We made a reservation for tonight at 5:30. They couldn't guarantee us a table in the trolley cart, but guess what? We managed to score a table!
So tonight, we dined in a trolley cart, just as The Redhead had so desired. It was perfect.
My photos aren't though, as they are all from a cell phone, but they shall do just fine.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Hello, Sausalito!
It's important that you know two things about our day today:
1.) We finally made it to Sausalito, a place we've been meaning to go to since moving to California over two years ago.
2.) We adopted a seal today. (Yes, a seal.)
There were bikers, Everywhere. And they took over the streets.
We took a really cool one way tunnel to the Marine Mammal Center and Rodeo Beach.
The view from the Marine Mammal Center.
The Redhead was wearing her infamous shark hat, ready to greet the seals and sea lions.
They had these tags hanging all over the place, encouraging you, begging you to adopt a marine mammal. Considering the place survives off of donations and didn't cost us anything to visit, it's money well spent.
Their mammals are mostly just short term visitors. This place serves as a hospital, nursing them back to health and then releasing them back into the ocean.
They currently have 34 occupants.
We loved this story about this kidnapped seal.
And here is The Redhead with her chosen seal. Since we're going to Hawaii next March, she chose a Hawaiian Monk Seal. There is also a Marine Mammal Center on the Big Island, where we're staying. She's really hoping to visit!
This little bird liked the statue's nose!
And I liked taking its photo.
We're so glad we finally made here! We've been meaning to for a long time! And because of our adoption, we now have a membership for a year. That means we must visit again soon!
We really enjoyed our time spent on the beach. It wasn't the cleanest beach, but we liked all of the pebbles and we saw a sea lion playing in the waves!
We ended up in downtown Sausalito. Parking was crazy, but the view was breathtaking!
My camera battery was dying, so I had to take photos sparingly, which is difficult to do when facing stunning views.
Dessert.
And the stairway back to where we parked.
We hope to get back to Sausalito soon, as we still have more to see, but for a day trip, it was an extraordinary day and feels like a foreign city.
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