You Only Get It If....

You know how sometimes you'll talk about something to someone trying to explain some shiz and they don't get it because they haven't ever experienced it? Yeah, something like that on here.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

You're Exhausted.

Mental and physical exhaustion is the shittiest thing in the whole entire world.

aaaaaaaaaaaaand thanks for reading my blog.

During mental exhaustion it is very hard to stay on task and not just do whatevs-the-hells you want to. I would go so far to say: Insanely hard. <Yeah, allusion to a past post, whoo!> Mental exhaustion creeps up on a person. Have you ever noticed that? I have never like all the sudden noticed that I am really frikkin tired of concentrating. It's usually like this:

 5 minutes into project:
Outloud: All right, bitches. Let's do this.
Mentally: All right, bitches. Let's do this.

10 minutes into project:
Outloud: Hell yeah! Look at how much I've accomplished.
Mentally: Ok, it's ten minutes in I've done about 18% of the work so I should be finished at about, ooooooooooh, seven ish. That's plenty of time to play COD: Black Ops and watch that movie was suggested two months ago. Yes!

15 minutes into project:
Outloud: My eyes are soFRIKKINSICKOFSEEINGTHISTHING. *Deep inhale* Just maintain for another ten minutes. Get this halfway done and call it a night.
Mentally: whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?

45 Minutes into Project:
Outloud: Bleeeeeeeeeeh *drool*
Mentally: *drool* {Side note: Someone draw that picture for me. Your brain drooling. Heh. I'm hilarious.}

Physical exhaustion is arguably worse. Getting bored is fixable. Hop on facebook every two to three minutes; refresh page; get annoyed that there are no new alerts and stare at word processor again with pure rage. :D However, physical exhaustion is only (usually) resolved with sleep. (KEEP READING! I'M SORRY I SAID SLEEP. I'M SORRY! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE.) Sleep for a person within my circle is like a four letter word. Only it's like a four letter word that actually offends them; not the four letter words that they spout off in greeting {Patrick}. This being the case: sleep is never a fix to physical exhaustion. Staying up as long as possible and pumping chemicals into the body is the only reliable tried and true method of myself and those about me.

Often times mental exhaustion leads to physical exhaustion and the test that I like to use on how exhausted someone is, is how accepting they are to the idea of coloring. {Say, what?}

Yes, coloring.
Kind of exhausted: Yeah, I'll color in a minute.
Exhausted: I guess.
Totally exhausted: Oh, maaaaaaan, coloring sounds so great right now.

Coloring is creative which alleviates the stress of the mental exhaustion and is extremely easy to pick up and put down. Coloring is not strenous so physical exertion is never an issue. This is also true for someone who is completely and totally wasted.

Next time you see me at a party; I'm carrying crayons. :D

Saturday, February 26, 2011

You're Crazy.

Everyone is a little crazy.
That's a pretty well known FACT ABOUT LIFE and also quite obviously there are different levels of crazy. Continue reading - hilarity ensues shortly; it's going to be funny...because it's true.

Everyone has tiny episodes of crazy. Some express said crazy by creating a empirical and shocking change to themselves. For instance, nail polish color; hair color; piercings; binge drinking. These tiny bursts of crazy are often accompanied by short or enduring stress. Totally logical: when things are so out of your control it is desirable to control *something* within your control.
Oh noes! The friends of my friends are teasing me. I cannot control people's actions but I can control the color of my hair. Hello, blue!

Everyone can have prolonged crazy. This is often the direct result of manipulation or lying. I, for instane,  thought I was in love. Whoops. This is reasonable because lies can sometimes define your decisions. It's cool. Eventually you forgive yourself and people stop gloating.
No scenario needed.

Most people have a good ole fashion 'crazy.' Which, I think, is needed for most people. Some times you just got to let loose and go all crazy-nuts for a night. It's cool just own up to it when you're down the whole: I just went crazy - excuse is lame. However, the I went crazy - excuse is spot on. :D
This always seems like a last resort kinda thing. Like oh-shiz-all-of-this-stuff-just-needs-to-escape-my-body-before-I-blow-into-a-million-pieces-let's-drink!-drink!-drink!-and-beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-crazy-for-a-night. {My gawd, I crack myself up sometimes.} This can be a good or a bad tension releaser but ultimately it doesn't stick for more than ...oooooh....somewhere between one night and four months. :D :D
I kinda did the scenario thing already. This format isn't working like I had planned. Tee-hee!

There are a few people that are just constantly crazy. Which sucks. Constant crazy is an intense insanity. There are actually philosophies out there that challenge the acceptance of reality which asks of you to be paranoid and examine details closer. Can you imagine that not being a choice? To constantly question if what was presented to you as factual. To doubt every choice you make. Well, don't imagine. That's silly. Just know: It sucks reaaaaaaaaaaaaally bad.

The funny part: Crazy is ok.
There is a huge stigma against mental health issues and that's bullshit.
The other funny part: Everyone goes crazy a little bit; so you're not alone. There's not shame in it.

I think I may have lied a little bit and pulled an after school special on your ass. {Which cracks me up.}

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

You're a Hypochrondriac.

Actually, you only get it if you're a hypochondriac; a worrier; a pessimist and a person who hasn't had health insurance for a bit. {colon capital letter 'd'}

I think the health insurance program gives a person a sense of comfort. With insurance if you feel as though you have a bug you can just go to your doctor and they can pretend to run tests and give you some antibiotics and bim! bam! boom! Don'cha feel so much better?

However, for such a short period withour insurance it creates these pangs of paranoia.

<Go with me on this train of thought>
Shortness of breathe? Did I get that on the job? Is it all this dust I'm inhaling? I know I should've never started smoking - but I don't have any other stress relievers! - Is it "PNEUMOTHORAX, a condition in which air gets between the lungs and the chest wall, or a PULMONARY EMBOLISM, in which a blood clot may have moved from a leg to the lungs, or ATELECTASIS, a collapsed lung." {Taken from} IT COULD BE ANYTHING AND I DON'T HAVE THE MONEY TO FIX IT.
<OK, thanks for following>

Now that I have insurance I *want* to go for everything but I am TERRIFIED of what it could be. This is where being a pessimist gets a hold of me. Not only is it a shortness of breathe but it's what happens to me if I can't get better? What happens to my bills and then my child and then my life?

I can't imagine it being different for other people. Having no insurance breeds fear. It's hard to gain confidence when you're own health is not in your hands. The posistion leaves you powerless. Sure you can try to heal yourself and 'wait-it-out' and pray that you are healed. However, certainty is not given.

I believe that when you let it rule you; you let it it.
If you let fear rule your life; you let fear in. You are no longer in control.


If you let hate rule your life; You let hate in.
If you let jealousy rule your life; you let jealousy in.
Does it make sense?

Lemme further explain:
You need to own your hate; so it cannot own you.
You need to own your jealous; so it cannot own you.

Life seems to be a mental game. Life also seems to be about responsibility.
Ha. I'm not sure. I'm a hypochondriac pessimist and I have numb hands.

You're a Wall.

I am not a wall. Walls are the best listeners in the world. Walls hear everything: creaks, little pitter patter; television; crying; laughter and they never ever tell your secrets or yell at you for being a botard. Yes, walls are excellent listeners.

As mentioned above, I am not a wall.

I like to have conversations and I like to gossip and make those 'uh-uh's and 'aw, nah, he didint' motions during a conversation. I also like to ask questions to reinforce to the speaker that I am listening. I also like to talk about things that happened to me and my opinions on things. I like to be critical and funny. I will have  conversation at any time and love it. I am always there for anyone who needs to talk.

I do not like to sit there and listen to people talk...and talk....andtalkandtalkandtalkandtalkandtalk. The first time, sure I understand, I get it. The second time, ok, annoying. However, at about EVERY time I never want to hang out with you EVER.

There needs to be a word of people who have a story about everything. EVERYTHING reminds them of a funny story about themselves.


OTHER PERSON: Oh my gawd, that's so funny you said that because I... <endless story about how their animal someone channeled their spirit and it was magical.>
ME: Neat, I had a dog once that...
OTHER PERSON: Oh, my gawd, this one time I had something similar happen to me but it was completely different I just noticed that we weren't talking about me.
<ME accidentally smother OTHER PERSON with a Spanish pillow.><END SCENE>

And these stories last forever. If you allowed a word in it is quickly overran with another story that has the same word. Like the world 'like' or 'the'.

I have noticed that these people can acknowledge and point out people who 'only talk about themselves' and they steer away from them and blah blah blah.

What's that saying if you don't know what I'm talking about then I'm talking about you.

I'm blessed that most of my friends are legit and have intelligent convos. However, there are those select few that just can't get over themselves.

What I'm getting at is: Please remember: People are not walls.

Monday, February 14, 2011

...You've Been Dating Awhile.

I love my boyfriend. He knows everything. He has the same sense of humor as I do and he lets me get away with all my crazy bullnanas (Side Note: I'm trying not to cuss as much. I actually do say bullnanas irl but I just wanted to give you a heads up). He takes care of me and my son and we all love each other very much. I never would have ever thought I could be this happy and this much in love. I can't even explain how lucky I am that he let me dig my claws into him. I never want to let go. He makes me smile just with a thought and I could hold his hand until we turned into phantasmagoric dust.

Ok, get it?

So Log-en dazs and I have been dating for almost eleven months now and we've spent almost all that time together being very happy. So happy, in fact, the only thing to do at this point is small things that just annoy the shiz  outta one another. For instance, Log has the loudest sneezes in the world. Like I know completely that this is something not within his realm of control and yet when he sneezes I shoot him a glance like he just cussed at me. Or how sometimes Log-en dazs (is it bad that at the moment he's being adorable and I'm having issues with tying to find things that annoy me? Yeah, I figured) will not only walk into the house, but shed like a leper into the bedroom to hop on This leaves this disturbing tale of 'long lecture'ly tossed backpack in the middle of the room; crumpled jacket beside back pack along side one black sock that says 'paper due in two days'; a random shirt draped over a seat that smells like him; two stolen lighters that let's me know Dal Dal is coming to visit soon; that other sock -that really doesn't tell a tale just kinda finishes the story- and finally the love of my life. Yet, I will still ask him: How was your day, darling?


Now don't be fooled and think this is one sided. Oh-my-heavens-mercy-me-no, I sometimes do shiz just to make him go bullnanas (Not one cuss word so far! Hell yeah)! For instance, I make the dumbest jokes I can...constantly.

Scenario One:
<Log cannot find his keys>
LOG: Have you seen my keys?
ME: The ones hanging on the key rack by the front door above your homework you were s'posed to turn in two days ago? That one? Nope. I have not seen it

Scenario TWO
<Log cannot find his keys>
LOG: Have you seen my keys. Oh wait, here there are under the couch...
ME: (at the same time) ......................................ere are under the couch, I found them baby. What would you do without me? You'd never find your keys again that's a fact.

SceNARIo three
<Log cannot find his keys>
<Oh forgot to mention I took them out of his pockets two hours ago without telling him and left them in my jacket pocket>
LOG: Have you seen my keys?
ME: Not recently, baby. Did you check under the couch?
<minutes of searching>
ME: Ooooooooooooooooooooooooh. They're in my pocket.
LOG: {Hulks out.}

The best part about all of this is: it's not hateful. It's not vicious. It's just so damn cute when Logan throws up his shoulders and is all annoyed at me. IT'S SO DAMN CUTE!!!! Yeah. We've been together for almost 11 months. Soak it in.

I didn't know Valentine's Day could be so awesome. Thank you, Logan. I love you.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

...If You're A Parent.

A while back Logan bought me a baby monitor so I could guilt free leaving my sleeping child in my apartment and travel down to his apartment to use interwebs. Unfortunately, it now seems like the worst best idea ever. {As opposed to the 'best worst idea ever' which would not have made sense right there. Hm. Ponder that.} The baby monitor was actually his idea too; at first, I was completely on board. I would be able to leave the hum-drum-suffocating-nothing of my house and travel down to be on facebook for an hour while listening to the serene slumberings of my small s'child. However, that is not how it was. Have you ever heard a baby monitor? You know those scenes from like mockumentaries? YEAH LIKE THAT. It's a dry static sound that seeps into your bones and races ice cubes down your spine. Yeah. Yeah. I went there. There is no feng shui place to put a baby monitor to attempt to appease the spirits of static; it has two volume settings: squealing or screeching.  Anyway, around Giftmas time Logan-honey bought me the baby monitor and we used it for the first time and it went a little something like-ah dis:

<Open Scene: Lights are dim, a movie is playing, JAMIE and LOGAN are at the couch ferociously eating popcorn, baby monitor has a dull buzzing uninterrupted and loud, over-powering the movie, some would argue, sound>

JAMIE: (Anxiously) .... (Stares at Baby monitor)

LOGAN: (paying no notice to anything about him)

JAMIE: (fidgets and actually pays attention to the movie for about 14.5 seconds and then messes with the baby monitor) Are you sure it's on the right channel?

LOGAN: (Without taking eyes off movie) Yeah, it makes this absolutely terrible sound if it's on the wrong channel.

JAMIE: (sets baby monitor down, munches popcorn, feels incredibly guilty) (and sighs)

LOGAN: (drinks half a can of Root Beer and loudly) Ahh.

JAMIE: (calmly, eerily calmly) I, mean, I can't even hear him coughing. He hasn't made a sound, in like, thirty minutes.

LOGAN: (Oh, look, interest piqued) Yeah, he's sleeping. (Pondering: Surely, she's not that insane.)

JAMIE: Is he sleeping? *Is* he sleeping, Logan? I JUST NEED TO KNOW IF I'M LISTENING TO A BABY MONITOR OR A CORPSE MONITOR. (Eyes mist)

LOGAN: (In that voice that everyone has heard when Logan has to do something) I'll go check on him. 
(Thinking: My gawd, she is that crazy.)

<LOGAN goes upstairs, JAMIE sees the cool stuff in the movie>


...If You Have Ears and Have Half a Brain.

So this pretty girl comes up to you and she's like: Oh, hi. Do you like music?


Until she starts to talk about current music. :/ Like Bruno Mars. Like Grenade by Bruno Mars.

I drive for a living. As a mother and as a delivery driver; I drive all the time and I listen to the radio. Long boring story short I heard the song by Bruno Mars called Grenade and I almost ran my car into oncoming traffic.

If you've never heard it....

Allow me to walk you through this insanity: Lyrics will be in regular font and my voice of reason will be in something different.

Easy come, easy go
That's just how you live, oh
Take, take, take it all,
But you never give
Should of known you was trouble from the first kiss,
Why were they open?

{Ok, here we go. So the narrator is speaking to 'you' like 'me' 'you'? Because I don't like this 'you' character. They sound selfish. My emotional eggs are going into the narrator's basket. Also, if you knew from the *first kiss* then you only get one emotional egg, you bo-tard.}

Gave you all I had
And you tossed it in the trash
You tossed it in the trash, you did
To give me all your love is all I ever asked,

{LOL. Right so I didn't graduate with a math degree but lemme try some maths on you: ALL I HAVE = LOVE. What? How does that work. This love equation is extremely one sided. If I give you everything that I have [money; time; material things; emotional heart consumption] and it is tossed in the trash but you still just want wub. [Wub me. Wub me. Say that you wub me. I'm a de-lus-ion-al fool]. And what does that mean 'your love' maybe that is her love. Do you think love is the reciprocal of money, time, material things and emotional heart consumption because I think you do. I'm beginning to think that this narrator is insane and is an unreliable source...and he sucks.}

{Oh gawd my favorite part to over-analyze.}

Cause what you don't understand is
I’d catch a grenade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’d jump in front of a train for ya (yeah, yeah , yeah)
You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh, oh
I would go through all this pain,
Take a bullet straight through my brain,
Yes, I would die for ya baby;
But you won't do the same

{HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Ok, this guy is an idiot. Hands down. I'm sorry I gave you that single emotional egg. You didn't deserve it. This song is about schmucks. HAHAHA. Ok, now to the serious analyzing part. *snort; chuckle; pain in side* He's describing how he would die for this chick who hates him. He would blow himself up, he would severely cripple his limbs, he would splatter himself and he would do 'anything' [I hate that word. He says 'anything' and 'everything' and it brings up this sensation in the heart of 'a lot' and yet he is actually saying nothing. I see what you did there...but I'm not fooled.] but basically he would end his life for this girl to treat him like shiz. SO DUMB.}

No, no, no, no
Black, black, black and blue beat me till I'm numb {Oh sweet, she abuses him.}
Tell the devil I said “hey” when you get back to where you're from {and he doesn't even like her, haha}
Mad woman, bad woman,
That's just what you are, yeah,
You’ll smile in my face then rip the brakes out my car {Note: this is bad in real life too}
Gave you all I had
And you tossed it in the trash {Reiterrations means it's important to him. This really bothers him.}

You tossed it in the trash, yes you did
To give me all your love is all I ever asked
Cause what you don't understand is
I’d catch a grenade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’d jump in front of a train for ya (yeah, yeah , yeah)
You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh, oh
I would go through all this pain,
Take a bullet straight through my brain,
Yes, I would die for ya baby;
But you won't do the same

If my body was on fire, ooh
You’ d watch me burn down in flames
You said you loved me you're a liar
Cause you never, ever, ever did baby...
But darling I’ll still catch a grenade for ya

{And this is what sets me over the edge. It feels like this entire time that he has been upset that she treats him like trash and yet he knows [HE KNOWS] that she will never change and never treat him better and he will STILL kill himself for her. I was laughing before but now I'm just pissed.} 


Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’d jump in front of a train for ya (yeah, yeah , yeah)
You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh, oh
I would go through all this pain,
Take a bullet straight through my brain,
Yes, I would die for ya baby;
But you won't do the same.
No, you won’t do the same,
You wouldn’t do the same,
Ooh, you’ll never do the same,
No, no, no, no

Here's the part that gets to me. People actually listen to this song and relate to it. There are some teenage boys or girls out there thinking :Yeah, my complete obsession with this person is validated by this song because this person is famous and I mean it speaks to my broken heart.


This is so juvenille. Teenage boys and girls can totally think that. They don't have a brain. They have hormones and feelings that no one in the entire world has ever had before. I've seen a picture of Bruno Mars. He looks like a preteen but I'm pretty sure he's an adult. So he should know better. It's IDIOTIC to sacrifice for someone who only says they love you. Love is a mutual thing. Now, go through the insane part of your life sacrifice everything you have for someone; SKIP THE DEATH PART; and welcome to half a brain. 

I've Made a Blog...{hilarity ensues.}

I've got lots of things on my mind and I want to write them down. I was thinking: Man, if only I had some format to facilitate this desire to write. Then "BOOM; KAKOW; CHIRDLE; CREEK" I steal Kaycie's idea and head to Blogspot. :D

Basically, I feel as though a lot of the things I think I cannot convey correctly. For instance, my constant fear of the baby crying so hard that he chokes on his on vomit and actually the silence in the next room is the silence of a dead baby. (Uh-oh, I've already made a dead baby joke. -_-) I notice that when I begin to audibly convey these thoughts, swimming around my brain and wisping around the corner of my eye in vague glimpses of lucidness, they often get tripped up by my tongue. I think my lips are too big and my tongue feels threatened by them. You'd understand if you were in my mind.

My mind. *sigh*

You know it's amazing. We have twenty six letters in the English alphabet. Those twenty six letters make limitless words ranging from a single letter to a 'shit-ton' of letters to convey an idea and to create sentences to create paragraphs to create blocks of ideas. It's a mastery of those letters that I feel as though I lack...or have not kept up my training...or just suck at eitherwayI'mworkingonitsostfunoob.
Anyway, back to 'my mind' ; My mind sucks. Haha. It's an enemy of mine. It's a hostile attraction, I think. Sometimes, I wow myself with some of my clever turns of phrases (the amalgamation of letters I've thrown together, the appetizing pleasure of the aesthetical sentence, *squeal; giggle; smile BIG CHEESY*) and how I see things deeper within a story 'between the lines' so to speak and at the same token, - my. gawd. - some of the shiz I come up with is outrageous and blatant and relentless. uck. It's disturbing how gross I can be with the English language. *shiver ; weep; guilt* Yeah. Yeah. My mind sucks even if it is outrageous pretty.

But, yeah. I have a lot to say about lots of things. Music; movies; parenting; girlfriending; housekeeping; job hunting; school searching; word building; syntax; addiction; indulgence; etc; etc; etc; and I will like to get started soon. Mwahahaha.