The End....of 2011 that is

I don't really have anything to say.  Actually, that's not true.  I have a lot to say, however, most of it I should keep to myself.  I can't be bothered to reflect on 2011.  It wasn't the worst year of my life, but it wasn't the best, either.  Lots of good things happened - I've reconnected with family that I had run away from.  I've almost finished school.  I've started coaching again.  All of these things are good.  There's been bad things too.  Friends getting sick - and by sick I don't mean the common cold.  That's the big one and the only one I'm willing to comment on at the moment.


I also can't be bothered to make any resolutions.  I find them pointless.  I make a resolution and stick to it for about a week and then give up.  So, instead I'll go with, I hope 2012 is good.


I'm in a funk today.  Mostly because of all the things that I want to blog about that I can't.  The things that frustrate me or piss me off - people who owe me over $2000 that completely fucked me over.  Being out $2000 because of that.  Other frustrations mostly in regard to money.  


Here's to hoping the next blog will be better.  Happy New Year.

Effing Shipping

Ok, we all know the holiday season brings out the "best" in people....this includes myself.  I know a lot of people who do all of their shopping online.  Many of these people swear by it.  As much as I hate shopping, I'm still a go in the store and grab shopper.  And, at Christmas time, I don't mind shopping because I love buying for other people.  Anyway, every year I end up purchasing a couple things online.  For the most part, it has not been an issue....until this year of course.

I ordered three items from a business that for the time being has to remain unamed.  I paid through the nose (and gave up an arm and a leg) for 3 day select UPS shipping.  I placed the order on December 13 and was GUARANTEED delivery by Friday, December 16.  Well, on December 16, I received two of the three items.  Of course, my little receipt shows that my order has been filled.  I called the business and spoke to a lovely young lady who explained that the third item is shipped from a different location so I should give it until Monday. 

Yesterday came and went with no delivery.  Today, our friendly UPS guy came in but not with a package for me.  So, I called again.  The same young lady told me the same damn thing.  I asked her for the tracking number.  She finally emailed it to me and it shows the package will be delivered tomorrow (of course it's being delivered to work and I have tomorrow off...*sigh*).  Ok, here's the thing - I ordered this on December 13.  I paid almost $30 for 3 day select which guarantees it here by the 3rd business day.  If the order was not placed until the 14th then they would have had until Monday - I was willing to give on that.  No big deal.  However, it clearly shows on the UPS tracking site that the third item order wasn't even placed until the 16th.  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?  WHAT THE FUCK DID I PAY $30 FOR 3 DAY DELIVERY.  I'm annoyed.  Yes, it will get here before Christmas.  That's great.  However, if you were going to sit on it for 3 days before placing the order, why the hell did I hack off my arm and leg to pay for your stupid shipping. 

BAH-FUCKING-HUMBUG.

Motivation...

Motivation comes in all forms doesn't it?  For example, I was motivated to blog today....by two separate things actually.  First, my sister posted a link to a blog on my wall.  The woman's blog is SPECTACULAR.  She's hysterical and realistic and pretty much made my day.  I felt I should blog because well, I don't know, it just seemed right.


The second thing was an "experience" we had today.  Now, most people who know me know that we do our Christmas shopping last minute.  By last minute I mean that normally on Christmas Eve, we are finishing our shopping.  This is normal for us.  It appears this year we are a bit ahead of the game.  I now know why it is that I do the majority of my shopping on Christmas Eve.


We went to Best Buy today to exchange my Harry Potter Lego game because it's jacked up.  So, we toodle in and wait in the line for the customer service desk.  It wasn't really a long line.  There were two people being helped in front of us and then us.  


We get up to the counter and the guy says we can just go grab another game and then bring it back up to exchange.  He told us not to wait in line, to just go straight to the counter. We went and got the game and walked back to the customer service desk.  The line at this point probably had about 20 people in it.  Not real sure what happened in the 5 minutes it took us to grab the game, but obviously a crap ton of people walked in with issues that could only be handled at the customer service counter.


We waited off to the side by the counter because the guy was helping another customer.  Their transaction was taking a while - which was no big deal for us, we were in no hurry.  He said to us, "I'm sorry, I will be with you in just a minute."  We told him no worries.  It was at this point that my utter hatred for dumb asses popped up yet again.  This moronic douche bag that was standing in line pops out his hip (much like Megan does when she's got an attitude) and shakes his puny little head and shouts, "NO, YOU WILL HELP ME NEXT. I was here first."  


Let me paint a picture for you - imagine Steve Urkel only white with skinny jeans and a receding hair line.  Definitely sexy - and yeah, he knew it.  *vomits*  Anyway, the employee looked at him and said very calmly and professionally, "actually, they were here first, but they had to go get their exchange."  The Urkel wannabe sputters for a minute and then tries to back step his obnoxiousness.  He failed.


Seriously??  Ok, I get that you're frustrated because you think we cut in line, but can you at least ATTEMPT to be an adult or do you just automatically go from nerdwholivesinhismomsbasement to douchebag?  Just curious.  I, of course, looked at Phil and said, "I hate people." 


I love Christmas.  I love giving.  I wish I had millions of dollars so I could spoil the hell out of all my loved ones.  I just can't stand people.  

Just STOP.

People spend a lot of time complaining...myself included.  I know that I am incredibly bad - I whine and complain constantly.  Sorry - I'm working on it.  Sometimes, though, we get little reminders about why we shouldn't whine and complain.  As of late, I've heard a lot of bitching from both kids and adults.  To be honest, I'm pretty tired of it.  Here's the thing...put your bitching in perspective.  Is what's going on in your life really that bad?  I've been bitching a lot about being busy.  Like today - I work from 7-3 and the go directly to the gym for practice from 3:15-5 and then I have 2 floor routines to choreograph and then a hair appointment at 7 and I still have homework for the new class AND our Christmas tree STILL isn't decorated.  Whining?  Yep.  Necessary?  Absolutely not.  Why?  Well, let's look at a few things...

I have two friends battling cancer.  They truly have the weight of the world - granted, their world - on their shoulders.  They both have great faith, which helps, but still.  I am not even going to mention what their families may be experiencing because I think sometimes people forget about the actual "sick" person.  I feel for their families, but I feel more for them.  Stand in their shoes for a moment - see how you feel....THEN bitch. 

I know a beautiful 12 year old girl also battling cancer.  I cannot imagine what her parents are going through, let alone what she herself has to endure, and yet they do not complain.

I just heard of an 11 year old boy who is battling cancer for the THIRD time. Wow.  That makes my exhaustion look pretty pitiful doesn't it?

What about my friend who just now in her adult life decided to speak out about 7 years of child abuse?  The strength and courage that took is beyond me. 

How about my friend who just laid her brother to rest?  Loss at any time of the year is hard but near the holidays it's even worse. 

Then there's the young lady my daughter's age struggling with an eating disorder. 

My point here is not so much to make you feel bad for these people.  Each person is obviously amazingly strong.  The point is that sometimes we seem to think our lives are so bad when in reality, it's really quite fabulous.  I want you all to know I know how fabulous my life is.  I know it appears that I bitch a lot....I would hope if you know me that you know that a lot of the time, my bitching is in good fun.  I love my life.  I have a husband that adores me, beautiful, intelligent, well-mannered healthy children, a mother that loves me, a couple other mom's who keep watch over me, a family that is huge and full of support, a best friend (or 2) that I can go to if all else fails, and endless love from friends.  My life is GREAT.

How about yours?  Just STOP for two seconds - look around you...look at the people who are actually TRULY suffering and decide right now, is your life really that bad?  How about just for a moment you forget about your trivial bitches and embrace someone who is really hurting and in need?

Disgusted.

I realize I can be, ummmm, well, ok, a little bit (a lotta bit) overly protective of my children.  I know that some people disagree with the things that I do NOT allow them to do.  I'm sure there are some that disagree with the things I DO allow them to do as well, but whatever.  It is what it is and I am who I am.  


Both of my children have facebook.  Both of my children are well aware of the fact that I stalk their facebook.  Not only do I stalk their pages from my own, but I also log in under them from time to time and stalk.  That is my right and those are the rules.  Why do I do that?  To keep my kids safe primarily.  Also, to find out what is going on in their lives that they don't tell me about. 


For example, learning of the raging parties where the alcohol and drugs are distributed freely.  To learn by seeing their friends pages who is taking part in the alcohol and drugs.  To educate myself so as not to be completely blind-sided when I find out my child is taking part.  Obsessive?  Some may say yes.  I say protective.


Here's the thing, I know that one of my children has a mouth.  Well, both do, but one is far more vocal.  Anyway, I am also not blind to the fact that that mouth is not always "clean."  I'm not stupid.  I know said mouth is probably as bad as mine.  Said child knows that I know this.  All of that said, both of my children know that it is considered absolutely completely and totally unacceptable to be cussing on their facebook pages.  SERIOUSLY?  I do not allow "slang" cuss words either - "eff" is not allowed.  "af" is not allowed.  NONE of that is allowed.  Why?  Well first of all, that's just inappropriate.  Intelligent, well-mannered children do not cuss and swear in public - which facebook is regardless of how "private" you think your profile is.  And secondly, it makes the parents look like disgusting trash.


When your child posts something on his or her facebook page that says something along the lines of "bitch, ur ugly 'af" and you let it go, not only does your child come off as trash, but so do you.  YOU look like a bad parent.  YOU look like you have taught your children NO manners.  What really irritates the hell out of me is when the parents respond to such a post and say something like "haha, so true."  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?


Ugh.  I love facebook.  I vent on facebook.  I play on facebook.  I hate facebook.  I hate that I gave in and allowed my kids to have facebook.  I wish facebook didn't exist.  I wish parents paid attention.  Since that is not the case, I wish parents took the time to stalk their kids.  I wish they could open their eyes and see that even though your child says, "he did this and she did this, but I didn't do this" that that is utter bullshit.  You think your child tells you everything, I assure you, that is not the case.  You heard rumors about what another child did that floored you.  The reality is, it was your child, but no one wants to tell you.  


At what point are parents going to parent?  WAKE UP AND PAY ATTENTION!  You only get to  instill good morals and values for a limited period of time - then it's up to them.  Don't you want better for them?  Sheesh, be selfish - do you really want to look like trash?  Like the parent who agrees with their child when he/she calls someone else a bitch.  Ugh.

*sniffle*

So, I've spent some time coaching.  I'd like to think I was a good influence in their lives, but of course, I don't always know.  I've got a bunch of kids on my facebook and love it.  This conversation I stumbled on today that pretty much brought tears to my eyes...yes, I'm a sap, but it's moments like these when I realize that at least for some of the kids, I made a difference...


Gymnast 1's original post on Gymnast 2's wall - "i misssss youuuuu' (:"

G2 - "miss youuuu too"

The post goes on for a bit with them discussing when they can get together and then...

G1 - "have you talked to anyone from gymnastics"

G2 - then names a couple she has spoken to and a couple she wishes she had contact with

The conversation goes on a bit with the reminiscing about gymnastics and then

G1 - "omg, i miss jamie!  i haven't seen her in forever! she was my fav coach (:"

G2 - "i'm friends with her...i miss her too...it was so sad when she left she was the best"

That whole conversation COMPLETELY made my day.  I love all the girls I have coached over the years.  I miss them more than any of them can imagine and I hold them all dear even now.  I'm certainly NOT the best coach - no where near it, but I appreciate that they loved me and still think of me.  I feel special <3

My perfection

So, I spend a lot of my blogging time bitching about some thing or another.  I would like to think that those who know me know that I am not that person.  I'm actually a pretty happy person, I just prefer to share the stupid and annoying stuff mostly because it's funny and I love to make people laugh - even if it is at my expense. 


Anyway, I was pondering last night how blessed I am.  My life is perfect.  By perfect, I mean it's flawed in all the right ways.  I try to keep some parts of my life private.  There are some things that don't need to be shared.  I'm also not one to be a blubbering sappy fool in public.  That said, I want to take a moment to share why I think my life is perfect.


11 1/2 years ago I married my soulmate.  I am sure when we got married there were a great many people (some of my family included) who never thought this marriage would last.  In all honesty, I'm not sure Phil and I thought it would last to begin with.  This man is by far the absolute most perfect man for me.  Is he perfect? Absolutely not, but guess what - neither am I.  Does he have annoying habits?  Absolutely, but so do I. Does he occasionally piss me off?  Sure, but you guessed it - I piss him off too.  The thing is, he is my everything.  He loves me like no one else on this planet can.  He takes care of me.  He listens to me bitch.  He's been through hell with me.  He tolerates - and even likes - my family....most of them.  He's intelligent - so I can have intelligent conversations with him.  I find him incredibly handsome.  I, honestly, cannot ever imagine my life without him.


I have 4 beautiful children.  Although, 2 of them are adults, they are still my kids.  Like Phil, they are not perfect, but they are mine and they are perfect in every way that is important to me.  They make me laugh.  They make me proud and they even make me cry.  They are worth every breath I take. 


I have a beautiful home that I love.  I have a job with an amazing boss.  I have an obnoxious little devil dog.  I have all the creature comforts that I need and most of what I want.


I have the most amazing support system on the planet.  I have the best friend a girl could ask for.  Trista is my rock.  She is and always has been there for me.  She is my lifeline.  My family is amazing - both sides.  I think I'm pretty lucky to have two different families.  Some might find that annoying - I see it as more people to love me and my husband and kids.  Do they drive me nuts?  Sure, but like with Phil - I know I do the same to them.


I've got some kick ass friends.  Those that I spend a lot of time with and those friends that even though I don't spend a lot of time with them that I know are there for me if I need them. Who can ask for more than that?


My life is crazy and busy and hectic and stressful and annoying.  My life is perfect.

QUIT. EFFING. JUDGING.

I should forewarn you, this blog is probably going to be R-rated mostly because of language.  So, if foul language offends you, stop reading now.

I'm pretty pissed off at the moment.  I'm actually beyond pissed.  I'm sick and fucking tired of people judging me.  Now to be fair - I'm a judgemental bitch too, but sometimes ya just gotta let the fuck up.  The worst part, is the people who judge me act like they are friends.  By act like, I mean exactly what I say - they pretend they are my friends.  They are the type of friends that have to tell you all about what's going on in their lives, but never fucking once ask you about what's going on in yours.  They actually know very little about you because they are so self-centered and self-involved that it never even crosses their little pea brain that they should ask about your life.  Chances are you have very little truly in common with these people - and you should know since you know everything about their life.

Here's the thing - I'm not a good friend.  Just ask my bestfriend, Trista.  I don't call often enough.  We rarely see each other and we only live about, what 25 miles apart??  The thing is, I know a lot about her life - I won't say everything, but a lot.  I will tell you that she knows everything about my life - everything.  She knows my dreams and goals. She knows my issues and demons.  She knows it all.  She is my best friend.  That said, because she does know and understand me and my life, she knows that I don't have time.

I know there are people out there with way more going on then me.  Shit, I know some of those people.  I guess they just handle it better.  90% of the time, if I tell you I'm busy, I'm frickin busy.  I'll be honest 10% of the time, I'm probably bullshitting you - not because I don't want to see you, but because I'm so fucking tired I just want to sit.

I am the kind of person that can't tell anybody no.  If you ask me to do something for you - especially a friend in need, I'm going to say yes even if I know it's going to end up wreaking havoc in my life.  It's a huge character flaw actually and drives Phil nuts.  I end up taking on way too much, but it's what I do. 

So here's my bitch....if I tell you I'm too fucking busy to do something for you - DON'T FUCKING JUDGE ME.  Here's a sample of my Tuesday schedule....

Up between 5:30-6 to leave the house by 6:30 for work. 
Work from 7-3
Bust ass to get to gymnastics practice from 3:15-5
Home by 5:20 for dinner and downtime
Take Meg to dance at 6:15
Home for homework
Pick Meg up from dance at 7:30
Home for downtime
Take Meg to and pick Jay up from basketball at 8.
Home for more homework
Bed by 10.

That's NORMAL.  Again, I realize there are people who have much nastier schedules and I'm sure they do it just fine.  That's mine and it fucking sucks and I wouldn't change a damn thing.  I am also aware that many people blow off my "school."  Oh yes, I am aware that I am attending a cracker jack box school.  I'm also aware that my degree means jack shit to all of you.  That's cool.  Cracker jack box school or not - it's college. College = flaming asston of homework.  DON'T FUCKING JUDGE ME.  The really funny thing is that those people that judge me - yeah, most don't have a college education.  There's some irony there somewhere.

Welcome back...

Well, today was the day.  This was the first day of true gymnastics practice.  I had some of "my" girls.  It's funny.  I've never been the best gymnastics coach.  That's not to say I wasn't good at what I did, but I was certainly never the best.  My biggest asset to the kids I coached (I think) was that I loved them.  Yes, I have a gymnastics background, albeit a poor one.  I have years and years of dance.  I have a passion for this sport and I love kids.


Being in the gym today was a bit of an eye opener for me.  High school is definitely different than club.  Then again, most clubs are completely different from the last one I was in.  I knew there would be adjustments for me, but I actually felt out of place today.  


I've been out for so long.  It doesn't seem like it's been that long.  In fact, there are days that it feels like I just left.  The reality is though, it's been a while.  I have to basically re-learn how to coach.  I have to remember everything that I learned while coaching and I have to figure out how to relay what I want to these girls.  It's different coaching high school girls in a high school gym atmosphere.  These girls, while dedicated to their high school sport, are entirely different than the girls I have coached in the past.


I have to learn how to speak to them.  I cannot bark at them like I did the girls in the gym.  I have to make sure they are comfortable enough with me that it is ok for me to touch them.  As a gymnastics coach, there's a lot of touching going on.  I do not want the girls to be uncomfortable with me putting their bodies in the appropriate shape.  I have to learn how to function with far less equipment than what I am used to and I have to figure out how to teach them the skills they need without treating them like babies.


Yep, definitely an adjustment period.  I actually questioned my abilities today.  There are only two other times that I felt so unqualified for this.  The first time was the first day I ever coached at Great Lakes and the second time was the first time I coached my own class at Twistars.  I know that it will get better and I know that I will find my niche again, it's just hard to not be the coach I was at Twistars but still offer the girls the same level of instruction.  

Who can't write?

So, I bitched early on about this class that I am currently taking.  (Thank goodness it's over in a week.)  My big complaint was that I have been in school for a little over 3 years and have NEVER received lower than a 90% on a paper - actually, I do not believe I have ever received lower than a 95%, however, we'll run with the 90%.  Anyways, this "instructor" SLAUGHTERED my first paper.  He gave me a 79% and informed me that I needed to take a course on how to write papers as mine was full of fluff and grammatical errors.  If you know me, you know first of all that I grew up around a bunch of well educated adults.  Both my mother and grandmother were teachers and my mother majored in English.  Needless to say, grammar, spelling, punctuation - ALL of that was beaten into my head at a very young age.  So, I was pissed.  Well, below is an example of the way this fantastic instructor writes...I have posted my comments in red - red as in YOU SUCK JACKASS.




Hope all of you are doing. (Hope you are doing what? Jumping jacks? Eating your veggies? Pondering the price of tea in china?) Before you know it, the course coming to an end. (The course coming to an end?  Do you proof read Mr. Know-it-all?) I know that this course was challenging to some of you, but I am sure you have and will benefit from the knowledge gained from this course.

This week will be a quiet week with no participation requirements so that you can focus your time and energy on the final paper and exam. No DQ responses or participation of any kind will be required, but feel free to ask questions. Please also a post ( as a team ) a summary (I'm sorry, what was that?  "Please also a post a summary?"  Is that English?  Do you need to eemprove your Inklish?) of what you learned from this course under the weekly summary thread as well as the Assignments Folder.


Mmmhmm, and this would be why I don't much care what my grade is in this class.  Obviously teacher be edumacated some country else.

True. Story.

Ignorance is bliss...true story.


So, Rachel answers the phone today while I'm chatting with Carri.  I notice Rachel turned to look at me at which point I assumed there was a moron on the phone.  What I did not know at the time was that Rachel was looking to see where I was because she thought it was me on the phone playing a prank.  I have NO idea why she would think that - do I look like a prankster?!?!?  *snicker*  Anyhoo, the phone conversation was odd and she finally put the person on hold and gave it to me.  This is how the conversation went....


"This is Jamie.  How can I help you?"


"Do you want to help me eemprove my Inklish?"


"Excuse me?"


"Do you want to help me eemprove my Inklish?"


"Do you have an account with us?"


At this point there is unintelligible random babbling.  It may have been "inklish" I don't know as I am not familiar with this "language."  After a couple minutes of random babbling, I interrupted this person.


"Is there something I can help you with?  Do you need to pay a bill?"


"Do you want to help me eemprove my Inklish?"


Obviously, while I am highly amused, it's a little bit annoying.  So, I said, "Do you need to pay a bill?  Do you have money?"


"I have money."


"Are you going to pay?"


"Yes, I pay."


"What's your account number?"


"Do you want to help me eemprove my Inklish?"


Please insert large amounts of eye rolling and sighing.  Really??  So, again, "Do you have money?"  


"Yes, I have money." 


"Ok, let's pull up your account.  What's your name?"


"Ok."


And of course, he hangs up.  WTF.  We laughed and laughed.  What an idiot.  Yep, 10 minutes later he calls back.  I answered and of course it begins.


"You help me eemprove my Inklish?"


"Look, you're calling a business.  You need to call someone else to help you with that."


"What's your name?"


Really?  I already told the idiot my name.  "You need to call someone else.  This is a business."


"What do you do?"


Creeper is now annoying me.  So, I busted out some pig latin....same sentence 3 times, fast, just for kicks.  All I said was "do you speak pig latin" in pig latin of course.  He says, "You say it slower."  But of course - I repeat it again, just as fast, cuz I'm an asshole.  Again I point out to him that he needs to call someone else.  I could have just hung up, but the truth is, I was having fun being an ass.


"You can give me phone number."


WTF DO I LOOK LIKE?!?!?  A DAMN TELEPHONE BOOK???  So, I said, "No, you need to either look it up on the internet or use a phone book."


"You can give me number?"


"Nooooo, YOU find it. K, have a nice day."


That's it, that's the end of my story.  You have a nice day too.

Gymnastics, Gymnastees, Gymnicetics

I am well aware of the fact that the majority of the population doesn't get gymnastics.  I am well aware that the majority of my friends don't get gymnastics.  I am also well aware of the fact that I cannot ever make someone understand my passion for this sport.  Only those people who have a true passion for something - anything - can truly understand.  If I could, I would live and breathe the sport. If I could spend my life in the gym - minus the time that I want/need for my family - I would. 

I don't think most people understand the benefits of the sport and the work those kids do and how unforgiving it is.  I know a lot of people who read this aren't going to have a clue about what I'm talking about and I will try to explain.  I think that gymnastics is probably one of the absolute most unforgiving sports out there - save maybe figure skating - and I still think gymnastics is worse.  This morning, while most of you were sleeping, a highly talented, intelligent, all around amazing young woman from DeWitt, Michigan won gold at the World Championships for All Around.  Jordyn is 16 years old.  Jordyn won by .05.  That's not much. 

I had the blessing of coaching in the same gym where Jordyn normally trains.  I had the privilege of watching her go from a little tiny mass of muscle at 9 years old when I first saw her to the amazing young woman she is now.  But I digress, this blog isn't about Jordyn (although you would all do well to either yahoo or google search her and read about her).

I was talking about it being unforgiving.  If you haven't seen the movie Stick It, you should rent it.  It's a cute movie and points out some of the deductions the girls get in competition.  For example, the bra strap hanging out, or not hitting a perfect handstand while swinging around the bars, or stepping out of bounds on floor.  You also have no idea the pain these kids go through.  Try running full speed at a vaulting table only to miss the spring board and smash into the table instead of going over it.  How about doing a simple skill on beam like a split jump and missing the landing so that you end up "crotching" the beam. Let's not forget their hands - the endless bleeding blisters from swinging around the bars and the face plants on the mat when you miss the bar after a release move.

Out of all of that (and so much more....the wrist bone sticking out of your arm after missing the beam on a backhandspring and the broken ankle for landing a tumbling pass wrong) arises the most amazing group of kids - young adults - that you will ever come across.  These kids define discipline and respect.  Do they think they are better than you?  Maybe a chosen few of them, but for the most part, these kids are humble. 

I watch some of the school sports practices on occasion and want to laugh.  All of the parents bitching that "these kids are only 4th/5th graders" or there's no need to push yet, they're only 13 makes me roll my eyes.  I had 5 and 6 year olds busting their asses and crying their eyes out in the gym.  Did their parents bitch?  No.  Why?  Discipline and respect.  If any of my kids had EVER spoken to me the way I hear these kids in (insert sport here) soccer, football, basketball, baseball, cross country, track, volleyball, cheerleading talk to their coaches, I can promise you, they would only do it once. 

Maybe that's part of the reason I keep going back to the gym - well, other than the fact that I absolutely love it - I like the discipline and respect.  I don't ever have to worry about obnoxious snotty kids or whiney parents. 

Bottom line - I love gymnastics (and my all time favorite gym in the world is Twistars) and I love every last one of the gymnasts - past and present.

Damn Tuesdays.

I think it's pretty common knowledge that I hate Tuesdays.  If I could skip them altogether, I would.  It's a wasted day that generally leaves me wanting to cause people great bodily harm.  Today is no exception.  The damn shame is, there's not really a good reason for me to be crabby today.  I just am - it's like the Tuesday curse.  At least at this point I can sort of laugh about it.  So, some of you may know that I have had a bad case of the exhaustions lately.  We're not talking kind of tired - we're talking I can sleep for 10 hours and then turn around and take a nap because I'm still tired.  No, I'm not depressed.  Yes, I realize this is a symptom of depression, but I can assure you that's not my problem.  I've also been a dysfunctional water faucet....as in at any random moment I may burst into tears for no apparent reason.  Now, I am pretty sure I know what's causing both, and I will deal with it, but for now, let's focus on the exhaustion and tears, mostly because it will probably amuse you.

Last night after procrastinating on a paper that was due (of course) last night, I finally managed to take myself to bed at around 10.  Yeah, I know some of you stay up until midnight or later, but I read this study once that said people with larger more active brains need more sleep - so stick that in your pipe and smoke it, biotch!  Who's laughing now?!?!  Anyway, I went up to bed and get all cozy and as per the norm, my daughter comes flouncing in about 20  minutes later.  She tells me she's going to get up at 6:15.  Sounds ok, right?  WRONG, but there's nothing I can do about it so I rolled over and went to sleep. 

Of course, I was awakened at just after 3 this morning as my lovely daughter was sleep walking/talking again - only this time in my closet.  -___-  Frickin kids.  Got her back to sleep and I went back to sleep.  My alarm went off at 5:30.  I shut it off - as is also the norm lately since I can't seem to get enough sleep.  I got up at 6. 

If you know me, you know I am not a morning person.  I'm like a raging dragon in the morning.  It is best to leave me the hell alone until I give you the all clear.  That's why I like my mornings at home - everyone is sleeping and I have roughly 30-45 minutes to pull my shit together.  Right, so, I'm in the shower working on the getting nice process and my daughter comes in to go to the bathroom. *sigh*  Fine.  She finishes and goes downstairs.  I carry on with my morning routine only slightly perturbed.  Until she comes back to get some lotion.  Yeah, totally jacking up my routine which makes me fail in the getting nice process.  After the 3rd visit to the bathroom I gave up.  I half-assed put my make up on (read:  looks like the bride of frankenstein today) and rush to the bedroom to find clothes. 

Well, of course, nothing can go right, right?  So, I can't find what I want to wear so I pull out some of my "fat" clothes.  You know, the clothes you wear when you feel like a beached whale.  EPIC FAIL.  It's a great feeling when you put your fat clothes on and they cut off your circulation.  Right, so now I'm too fat for my fat clothes.  F.M.L.  Can you see how my day is going??

I walk downstairs to leave.  Phil notices that I am off and asks if I'm ok.  I think I sorta shook my head or something, idk, but I left.  Got in the car and decided to call him - who better to talk to when having a rough morning than the love of my life, right?  Yeah, that would have worked if he had answered his phone.  *shrugs*  I figured he was probably going to the bathroom so I gave it a few minutes.  In the meantime, a coworker/friend, shot me a text that she wasn't coming in...BOO and people were driving slower than normal.  I called Megan to see if she could get her father for me, but of course, she didn't answer either.  I called Phil about 3 more times and then walked into 7-11 to get a Mt. Dew.  HAHAHAHA, so the guy that hits on me in there ALL the time looks at me and says, "rough morning?"  He's so lucky I didn't sucker punch him.

I get back in the car and call Tracy - my friend and neighbor - to ask if she can have her boys let Phil or Megan know to call me.  Megan finally calls me and I tell her to get her dad for me.  At this point, I'm pretty irrate.  I just needed someone to talk to.  So, I snapped at Phil and hung up on him and then walked into work and had a mini-tantrum.  Thank goodness no one was here.

I'm calm(ish) now, other than the fact that I can't breathe because my fat clothes are too tight.  I could use a nice cold glass of wine, too.  And yes, I realize this blog makes me sound manic and slightly unstable, but the reality is - I probably am. 

You're welcome for your laugh for the day.

The "L" Word

Oh you know what word I'm talking about.  Love.  Is it that hard to say?  It seems now that it is a word that is either left unsaid or that is over used and not meant.  I have no problem with it.  I grew up around of a bunch of people who constantly told me they loved me.  I know that I tell my kids that I love them about 100 times per day.  No, I'm not exaggerating, I really do.  I know that when Phil and I started using the "l" word he had to get use to how often I said it.  I am a firm believer that if you truly love someone, you need to tell them.  Why?  Isn't that obvious?  You never know if you'll have another chance.

I am an incredibly complex simple girl.  Haha, yes, you read that right.  I also love with my whole heart.  If you are someone special to me, chances are you know.  If I haven't ever told you that I love you and you think you're someone special to me...you might be wrong.  I want people to know that I care.  I need those that are special to know that they have impacted my life in some way. 

I, however, cannot stand how these young kids run around telling all the girls in their class that they love them when they turn around two seconds later and tell one of their other friends how much they hate the one they just said "love you" to.  Really?  DON'T SAY IT IF YOU DON'T MEAN IT.

BUT MEAN IT WHEN YOU SAY IT.

I've experienced some tragedy.  I've held back and not told people that are special to me that I loved them.  I've stood over their caskets and said it...too late.  It's not a bad word.  Say it.  There's nothing wrong with telling a friend that you love them.  So, for those of you that have not heard it today, for those of you that I would do anything for, you know who you are....I LOVE YOU.

Prayer

Dear Lord,


So, we've had this kind of odd relationship over the past, oh I don't know, 20 years, but it sorta works for us.  Anyways, recently we've been talking more, mostly because I've been kind of, well, lost again.  It happens, I know and thanks, by the way, for the guidance.


Here's the thing, I need to ask a favor now and it's a pretty big one.  I know I ask the same basic thing pretty much every night, but this time I'm going to be a bit more specific.  I've got this friend, one of my best friend's actually, probably the best guy friend I have.  He's a bit outspoken and I jokingly call him my boyfriend and he's just a really great guy.  He loves you and his family and is the kind of guy that would give you the shirt off his back if it would help you out.


Anyhoo, you kind of threw him an obstacle.  We all appreciate your obstacles as we realize they make us stronger, but this one is pretty hefty and he - well all of us actually - could use your help.  Please take hold of John and his family and hold them close.  Please keep him safe and guide him through this.  Help us all to help his family through this and let them know that we love them all and will do anything in our power for them. 


Finally, I realize this is selfish and totally unfair to say and I also realize that there are many many people who have experienced far worse, but please please heal this man as he means the world to me.


Thanks.


Amen 

And it continues

It doesn't seem to matter how much I try to put up a good solid brick wall, some people still manage to break through it and hurt me.  I'm pretty good and keeping people out.  There are only a handful of people who actually really know me.  There's a reason for that.  I'm way too sensitive.  I'm a firm believer that if you let people too close, they will inevitably hurt you.  So, I keep most people at arms length.  Chances are if you think you really know me, you're wrong.  There are 3 people on the planet that I tell everything to - and that's it. 

I determined that as much as I try to bury the little girl begging for acceptance that it will never happen.  That little girl doesn't want acceptance from everyone, just that one person.  You know, the one person she will never get it from.  I see the relationship that Megan has with Phil and am jealous as hell.  What little girl doesn't want that adoring father? 

18 years have gone by since I met him for the first time.  Why it took until I was 17 to meet him and why I had to go looking for him is annoying in and of itself, but it is what it is.  The fact that over the past 18 years I have spent more time hurting because of him is ludicrous.  And just when I think that I'm ok and that nothing can hurt me, it happens again.

Why I allow this to continue happening, I don't know.  I'm obviously not as strong as I pretend to be.  There are some people who will read this and defend him.  The thing is, you can defend him until the day you die, but the bottom line is - it's bullshit.  He "loves" only those that are constantly in his face.  That's why he loves you in his own sick and demented way.  That's why he loves the youngest and the oldest two - they are around him.  The rest of us are not. 

It's funny that the ones he probably hurt the most are the ones who are for the most part at peace with it.  I'm the odd ball.  I'm the one that as hard as I try that can't get past it.  I'm the one that continues to question (like a two year old) why?  What is wrong with me?  Why am I never good enough?  I busted my ass for a while to try and make him love me.  In the end, it's never enough.

And then today - when for the first time in almost 35 years he shows up for a court hearing and speaks with my mother he never even asked how I was doing.  He didn't even think to ask about my kids - his grandkids that he hasn't seen in years - or my life.  Why?  Well, that's pretty obvious isn't it?  I still don't matter.

And, as usual, my heart breaks and I cry.

Dear Mel,

You would think that I would forget the little things.  I wonder if normal people do?  It is hard to believe that it has been two years.  There are times when I wish I could have said good-bye.  Then I remember what that's like and am glad I didn't.  I remember the last time I spoke to you.  You were still in the hospital and your voice was barely a whisper.  The thing that sticks out in my mind the most is that you were still fighting.  As weak as you sounded, you still refused to give in.  I can honestly say, you never gave in.  You did make the decision to go home and I'm glad.  As much as it hurts to say that, I'm glad you did.  I know in my heart that you are no longer in pain and that you're happy.  I think it seriously stinks that your home now is so far away from us, but it's best for you.

Two years ago today I received that dreaded text message.  Two years ago today I sat on the phone with Sally and cried.  Pretty sure I also cursed you for me leaving me to figure out how to raise "our" son.  Two years ago I ran away to Grand Haven with my sister and her boyfriend with Phil and the kids to try and escape the hurt for a few hours.  Then I hopped in the car and took that dreaded trip to Texas.

I miss you, girly!  I wish you were here.  I know in spirit you are and that you will always live in our hearts, but there are moments when I sure could use your peppy positive attitude and outlook on life.  I'm sure you are amazed and proud of Eric.  He definitely did a lot of growing up over the past couple of years.  There are still moments when I wish you were here to help me figure out how to guide him.  Not that he needs it, but it's what moms do.

I am so thankful that we went to San Diego and had that time together. Those are memories no one can take away from me and that I don't have to share. 

Rest in peace, my friend, you may be gone, but will never be forgotten.

I love you.

Love,
Jamie

Motorcycle Irony

So, most of you know I've spent years (almost 20) having issues with motorcycles.  Obviously, those of you who are friends of mine on facebook have seen I recently had a change of heart.  I find it ironic that in reading the required text for my current marketing class that the example they used had to do with Harley Davidson.  I'm going to post it here because I find it insanely interesting and so true...


"Who rides a Harley?  You might be surprised. Motorcycles are attracting a new breed of riders - older more affluent, and better educated. 'While the outlaw bad-boy biker image is what we might typically associate with Harley riders' says an analyst, 'they're just as likely to be CEOs and investment bankers.' 'You take off the leathers and the helmet and you'll never know who you'll find' says one hard-core Harley enthusiast, himself a former New York City producer. 'We're a varied lot...America, at it's very best...a melting pot.' The average Harley customer is a 47-year old male with a median household income of $82,000. Today, women make more than 12% of Harley purchases."  


It goes on for a bit and then, "The research revealed seven core customer types: adventure-loving traditionalists, sensitive pragmatists, stylish status seekers, laid-back campers, classy capitalists, cool-headed loners and cocky misfits."


Not sure where I fit in all that, but whatever.  I just thought it was funny and rather ironic that the girl who swore off bikes and now loves them is also now reading about them in a marketing class. 


Ref:  Armstrong, G., Kotler, P., 2009. Marketing. An Introduction, Ninth Edition, Prentice Hall, Inc.

Where were you?!

Do you know where you were a year ago today?  I do.  I was in Midland for a soccer tournament.  I also got to spend a good part of the day with Carolynn.  I also remember where I was 8 hours from now a year ago.  I was in the car with Phil and Meg on our way home from the tourney.  Why do I remember?  Well, Alleysha called me first.  She had been on vacation and was in another state - although on her way home.  She said, "Have you talked to Carolynn?"  which honestly I thought was a pretty stupid question cuz I had just spent almost the entire day with Carolynn, but Alleysha didn't know that.  So, we chatted for a second and then I asked her why she asked me that.  She said rather nonchalantly that Chad had gotten into a motorcycle accident, but he just broke his leg or hip or something.  No big deal.

I didn't really think anything of it.  I remember getting off the phone and telling Phil what a moron Chad was for being a dip shit on his bike.  Right, then Carolynn - the one not prone to random hysterical outbursts - called me...hysterical.  She couldn't remember what road Sparrow hospital is on.  She was yelling and crying into the phone.  I finally got her to tell me what was wrong.  All she could manage to spit out was that they couldn't get him stablized. 

I remember hanging up the phone that time and gradually increasing my normal 80mph highway speed to 85.  I remember running through my head all the reasons why I had taken a hiatus from the family.  I remember thinking about everything I had missed.  I remember thinking my brother was going to die and I wasn't going to get there in time.

We all know I don't deal well with death.  I have never in my life felt so totally in control and in a complete state of sheer panic all at once.  I drove my car in silence crying.  I had no idea how I was going to push my way back into a family that I had pushed away 5(ish) years before, but I knew that I was going to try.  At that moment I needed them more than anything.

We got home at around 7.  At that point Carolynn had told me Chad was stable enough for them to airlift him to U of M.  We still didn't know what all was wrong with him, but we knew it wasn't good.  That may have been one of the longest nights of my life.  The multiple phone calls from sisters giving me updates or at least information or even just calling to cry.

Where the following 3(ish) weeks are a bit of a jumble, I still remember some of it.  I remember seeing him for the first time laying there with tubes sticking out everywhere and frickin metal bars poking out of his head.  I remember when he said "I love you" for the first time after the accident.  I have to tell you, nothing is more beautiful than those 3 words coming from someone you think you may never hear it from again.  I remember Jay - the most amazing nurse EVER - giving full information on what was wrong with Chad.  I remember the day they moved him to a different room - and crying my eyes out that he could actually look at and talk to us.  I remember the endless hours sitting in the waiting room with my sisters and knowing that even though I pushed them all away that they were still my sisters and that they loved me. 

I wish the accident had never happened - for all of our sakes but especially Chad's.  The thing is, that accident brought me back to some people that mean the world to me.  I don't want to think about how things would be if the end of the story was different.  All I know is my brother is alive and doing damn good and I have my family back.

The Three F's

I'm the kind of person who will give props to companies who I feel earn it.  That said, I am also the kind of person who will tear a business apart if they screw up.  So, let's talk.  The three F's for today are:  FANTASTIC FINDS FAIL.


Right, so I've been in a few weddings...*snicker* Let me first say, I have no idea why anyone would want me in their wedding.  I'm not the nicest person on the planet.  However, in these weddings, there have never been any major mishaps.  We might have had disagreements on the colors or styles of dresses or disagreements about other little things, but never anything that was potentially disastrous.


Please fast forward to the current wedding.  My little sister, Alley, is getting married on September 10, 2011.  I am blessed and honored to have been asked to be a bridesmaid in this wedding.  On May 1 we ordered and paid for our dresses.  There are only 3 of us - shouldn't be that difficult.  2 dresses are chocolate brown and 1 is an olive/minty greenish.  


One month ago, Alleysha found out that the chocolate brown dresses had been ordered in the wrong color.  MIND YOU - they told us that we were going to be pushing it to get the dresses in in enough time to have alterations done.  Fine, accidents happen.  Whatever.  The issue was taken care of and they corrected the problem, right?


Alleysha sent me a text today to let me know that my dress was in.  Scuse me? Why did they not notify me?  The best part - they didn't call her either.  They called my other sister.  They did not call the bride or the maid of honor.  They called the other bridesmaid. (please note the raised eyebrow)  Yeah, I was annoyed.  If my dress is in, you need to call me. I paid for the damn thing.  You charged MY credit card.  NOTIFY ME.  So, Alley gave them hell for being stupid as she was told that they had "sent out letters" to notify us.  You're kidding me, right?


The last wedding I was in, when the dress came in, I got an email AND a phone call.  So, I called the morons.  I am told that they do not make phone calls.  I asked if that is the case, why did you call one of the other bridesmaids??  The response??  Nervous titter "Ohhh, I just don't know."  Fine, whatever.  I will pick it up.


I drive to Fantastic Fuck Ups this evening to pick up my dress.  The woman brings me a dress.  It CLEARLY states on the label that it is "mocha" colored.  I don't know where these people learned their colors, but the dress is OBVIOUSLY NOT mocha.  It's no kind of brown whatsoever.  So, I fix her with the stupid stare and state, "that's the wrong color."  She gives me the deer in the headlights look and says, "it is?"  Because I obviously have no idea what I'm talking about.  She then rushes to her computer proceeds to hmmmm and ohhhh and mmmmhmmmm.  She informed me that she would contact them immediately but not before she does a little gasp and says, "Oh dear, this is an early September wedding."  


Well no shit, ya damn genius.  That is also clearly labeled on the stupid tag.  So where are we at now?  I have no idea.  The dress is the wrong color.  The wedding is in 6 weeks and I'm apparently just going to have to pray that my fat ass will fit into whatever I end up wearing.


Did I mention that my sister is a complete and utter basket case right now (and rightly so)?!?!?  *sigh*  Love you, Alleycat.  This will work out.

Self-Hatred but not to the extreme...

I'm going to say this to get it out of the way.  No one needs to respond to this.  I don't post my blog because I need a response.  I post a blog because I need to vent.  If you choose to read it, great - but I'm not asking you to comment.


There are only a chosen few people who really know me.  I think I've done a pretty good job of keeping most of me hidden for the most part.  I have managed to construct some damn fine walls to keep most people away from the parts of me that I do not feel the need to share with just anyone.  That said, most people who are at least relatively close to me know that I have self-image issues.  This is nothing new.


My self-image issues are not much different from those which all teenage girls go through.  The difference is that where most teenage girls find ways to get past it, I never did.  So, here I sit in my mid-thirties still struggling and in some ways struggling far more now than I did 20 years ago.  I'm sure I could give all the reasons why it is that I am this way, but I won't.  I don't want to share them all and to be honest, I probably don't know them all.  I think I'm just wired wrong.


I hate myself and have for so long it's stupid.  I try not to say to much about it at home because I don't want my kids to be this way.  But I can't even begin to tell you how hard it is to get ready for work in the morning and look at myself in the mirror when all I want to do is cry because of what I see.  I don't tell people how bad it is because people often think that those of us with this self-hatred issue just do it for attention.


I would like to assure you that this is not an attention getting ploy.  Most of the time, I would much rather people not look at me.  I don't want to draw attention to myself for fear of hearing the insult or seeing the look of disgust on their face.  Many of you will sit back and read this and roll your eyes or scoff at me for being stupid, but you have no idea how much this hurts.  


Self-hatred is not something I am making up.  It's very real and often overlooked.  It's also referred to as "autophobia."  It is the name for someone having an extreme dislike of or a terrible rage against oneself. I don't know why I felt the need to blog about this today.  Probably just because I'm having one of "those" days, but whatever.

Bill collectors that can suck my A$$

So, back in the day, I may have had some issues paying some bills.  As in I never had any money and never paid medical bills.  All this resulted in my credit being in the toilet.  I realized (a bit later than I should have) that my credit being in the toilet was not doing me any favors.  So, for the past, roughly, 9 years I have busted my ass to repair my credit.  It's pretty good now - not great yet, but pretty damn good.

Medical bills I am pretty quick to pay along with the normal day to day stuff.  Why?  Cuz regardless what people tell you, medical bills DO make a difference on your credit.  Those looking at your credit to consider whether they want to loan you money WILL look at those medical bills. 

Right, so, the purpose for my blog (because I'm rather pissed off at the moment - of course) is this woman that called me today.  I understand that it's not her fault and she's just doing her job, but if you're going to call me and harrass me YOU BETTER FUCKING LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY.

Here's the scenario - in January of 2008 we ended up at the hospital for a child.  It was nothing major - but some of the services had to be done at the hospital.  I, being the loyal employee that I am, chose to go to, um where I thought I should? (F.A.I.L.). Never in my life have I come across more incompetent billing staff.  I've got no beef with the doctors/nurses, but GOOD FRICKIN GOD YOU ASSHOLES, IT'S NOT THAT HARD.  Anyway, I received a bill for a portion of my deductible.  It was around $66.  So, I called them to make a payment over the phone as I thought that would be easier than sending a check. *insert hysterical laughter here.*

I call.  I speak to some dumb ass twit who takes my credit card number, expiration date, cv code, street address, and zip code.  Fabulous.  So it's all good, right?  No, this rinky dink backwards jacked up hillbilly run billing office does not run the card with you on the phone and give you a confirmation number - why?  WELL DUH - because their employees are incompetent jackasses of course.  So, a few weeks later, I get a call from said dumb ass twit.  She tells me my credit card was rejected.

Ok, 5 years ago, it would have been entirely quite possible and pretty probable that my card would be rejected.  Now, absolutely not.  I'm not bragging - we're far from rich, but we make damn sure that there is money in there at all times.  While speaking with the dumb ass twit, it comes to my attention that she is also hard of hearing.  For when I gave her my street numbers of 1560, she heard 1506 and is therefore what was put into the credit card machine.  *sigh*  Fine, accidents happen, no biggie.  So, she once again thanks me and hangs up.

Two weeks later - oh yes, a new dumb ass twit calls me.  My card has been "rejected."  Please refer to the previous paragraph.  Once again we have to go over all of my information and oddly enough, they have fouled up the expiration date.  Right, at this point, I'm slightly annoyed and I told the girl that.  She apologizes profusely, assures me it will be taken care of and hangs up the phone.

Unfortunately, the story does not end here.  We got at least 3 more bills and at least 3 more phone calls from these blithering idiots.  They fouled up the credit card number, the expiration again and something else.  I finally informed them that I was done.  I have attempted to pay the bill multiple times and that the fact that they are stupid is not my problem.  I'm done.  NOT. PAYING. THE. DAMN. BILL.  Eat your stupid $66.

Fast forward to today - I received a phone call at work - which always pisses me off from some woman who started off the conversation after I said hello by saying "Put Phillip on the phone."  Ha.  Yeah, you obviously don't know who you are speaking to.  First of all, don't call me and then dictate orders, bitch.  You want something from me, you better speak nicely.  Second, who the hell is this crazy cow asking for "Phillip" - there are about 3 people on this planet that can get away with calling him that and this unknown elephant on the phone was not one of them.  I, being my polite and kind self said, "Excuse me?"  To which she asked who she was speaking with.  Yep, that annoys the fuck out of me too.  YOU called MY phone.  If you don't know who you're calling, I'm not interested.  Peace out, biotch. 

Of course, right before I hung up - she dropped the "magic" word - debt.  So, I (still being nice-ish) asked what she wanted.  She references the above issue with Ingham.  I started to explain to her the issue and she said - "Whatever your pointless excuses, I am not interested.  I am collecting a debt and none of your foolish sob stories will work on me, I have heard them all.  You need to pay your bill presently or we will take you to court."

Well, as you can imagine, with my calm and quiet tendencies, that went over REAL well....my response to her was - something along the lines of "Go ahead and take me to court for $66.  I documented every conversation I have had about this bill. It's going to cost you more to drag me into court than it will to send me another bill. Do what you have to do."

Here's where she really pissed me off. Her reply?  "You deadbeats are the all same." 

I'm not going to post my reply on here as it was not overly polite.  So, my advice - never ever try to pay a bill local hospitals using your credit card - always send a check.

Homophobia

I am so annoyed with this bullshit I am currently hearing on the radio.  I know that there are people out there that are homophobic and that's ok.  I'm not.  I have no issue with homosexuality.  I am a "to each their own" kind of person.  I don't like the flamboyant obnoxious displays of affection - but I am not a fan of that from heterosexuals either.

So, I'm listening to this morning show on a local radio station (that I despise as I feel it is totally inappropriate for anyone under the age of 18 and yet the station targets the younger kids - I digress...).  Today is "free advice Thursday."  This always involves some form of trash calling in to get advice - i.e. the first lady who needed advice on how to get her significant other to "give it up."  *sigh* REALLY?!?!?!  Who calls a radio station for that shit?  Again, I digress.

The second caller is the one that has me all pissed off.  This "mother" calls in about her son.  She is angry at her husband because said husband has not gotten their son involved in sports.  (Apparently it is solely a father's responsibility to get a boy involved in sports).  The son (I missed the kid's age) wants to go to a band camp and some other performance camp.  This woman called in all concerned and asking for advice on what to do because she doesn't want to send her son to band camp because SHE DOESN'T WANT TO ENCOURAGE HIM TO BE GAY.

You have got to be seriously fucking kidding me.  I'm so damned tired of people judging others.  IT'S NOT YOUR GOD DAMN PLACE.  You don't "catch" homosexuality.  Not every guy that plays an instrument is gay.  Shockingly enough, not every guy that acts is gay either - WILL SMITH YOU MORONS.  Gonna tell me he's gay??? 

What the hell is wrong with people??  What's wrong with gay people??  I have a few gay friends and quite a few gay/lesbian acquaintances.  SO FUCKING WHAT.  They are people - just like you and I.  The only difference is their sex life and to be completely honest with you - I don't want to know about yours, or theirs anymore than I want you to know about mine. 

Yes, there are those of you that are going to ask me if I want my son to be gay.  Duh, of course not.  I hope that both of my kids grow up as heterosexuals, get married, have kids, blah blah blah.  Why?  Not because I would be embarrassed.  NO NO NO.  Because life will be so much harder for them if they are homosexual - look at the number of people reading this judging homosexuals right now.  THAT I do not want for my kids. 

My point here is - if you want to spew your bullshit, don't do it on the radio.  Just makes people like me want to call in and tell you what a low life piece of judgemental garbage you are and to send your husband a check to pay for your son's band camp/music lessons.

Emotionally and Mentally Exhausted

So there's pretty much only one other time in my life that I remember feeling like this.  Oddly enough, it was right before we left the gym.  I'm overwhelmed.  Now, before you all start talking about how you know how I feel and that you totally understand or telling me to just buck up and deal with it.  SHUT THE HELL UP.  Very few people know what I'm talking about.  I'm not saying my life is any worse than anyone elses.  As a matter of fact, my life is pretty damn good.  All I'm saying is right now - at this moment - I am just shy of a breakdown...again.

Those of you that were around when we left the gym know what my "life" was like then...7-3 at the "real" job, home to change, 4-9 in the gym.  Doesn't seem like a big deal except for the fact that I NEVER saw my family unless we were in the gym and I did it 5 days a week for about 6 years.  I missed all of Jason's first year of soccer.  I missed all school events.  I forgot what my husband looked like...ok, maybe not but still.

Anyways, I'm there again. I'm THAT overwhelmed.  Work, school, kids' school, kids' sports, etc.  I know there are plenty of other people out there that do the same thing and probably handle it better.  It doesn't help that I just (sort of) finished taking what my advisor said was the hardest class I will take and had to spend days (as in all day long and well into the evening) studying and doing homework.  It doesn't help that I was in a group (for school) with people who couldn't be bothered to do their work so on top of doing my own I had to do theirs as well.  It doesn't help that I feel like I have to be there for everyone else all the time. 

I've always been that way - if you need me - call me, text me, email me - whatever.  The catch is, though,  who's going to be there for me?  Who's there for me today when I am so close to tears from exhaustion and frustration that if I blink they will fall?  I can count 11 people who will respond and say that they will be there...the reality of it is, though,  there are pretty much only 2 who will actually listen and get me through.

Yes, I'm having a pity party.  I'm beyond tired.  I hate school.  I want to be done.  (PS kids - go to college after high school...don't wait until you're an old fart like me).  I want to be able to relax.  I want to be able to enjoy spending time with my kids.  I want to be able to go on a summer vacation before they are too old to appreciate it.  I want to be able to go on a date.  I would love to be able to have the time to dance. 

Instead, I will go home and cry myself to sleep.

No Tears in Heaven

I've been accused of loving too much - of caring too deeply.  I didn't think that was possible, but I'm beginning to think it's true.  Anyone who really knows me knows that when I love, I love with my entire being.  If you are a part of my life - truly - not just a casual acquaintance chances are, I would do damn near to anything for you. The flaw with this is that tragedy or loss cuts me right to  the core.  


I would like to think I can handle just about anything.  I've had multiple obstacles thrown in my way over the past 34 1/2 years and I've handled them.  Maybe I haven't handled them in the best way all the time, but I got past it.  The one thing I don't or can't seem to figure out how to deal with is death.  It is my biggest fear and one that hovers in my mind all the time.  I'm sure there are any number of reasons for this, and I am well aware that everyone dies, but that does not make it easier for me.  It is the one thing that cuts straight to my heart and is almost debilitating for me.  


My mom and I moved "up there" when I was almost 13.  I don't have hardly any good memories from the 5 years I spent there.  As a matter of fact, I despise it so much there that I avoid going there if at all possible.  The first three months we lived there I cried just about every day.  I wanted to live with my grandparents and go back to school with normal people - you know, people that didn't think it was a treat to go to the mall and "see a real live black person."  Yeah, this is the hell I lived in.  


Anyway, there were a chosen few people that made my life there easier. I made friends with our neighbors out back pretty quick.  I suppose some might think it odd as they were an elderly couple (my grandparents' age). BUT they saved me more than they will ever know.  I enjoyed sharing hot chocolate with Bill and Edna and had a great time chatting with them.  I helped them out around their yard.  They saved my dumb ass dog from her suicide attempts multiple times and they watched out for my mom for me after I moved to Lansing.  


I know my mom is a big girl and can take care of herself, but I'm kind of protective and I hated her living up there all by herself.  Bill and Edna were like my surrogate grandparents.  They treated me like a little adult and a grandchild and made me feel loved in a place where - other than my mom - I felt hated.  


I lost contact - or I should say, I stopped calling, quite a few years ago.  Basically, when I stopped going up there.  My mom kept me informed of how they were and any exciting news.  On the rare occasions that I did go up, I always stopped to say hi.  


My mom told me this morning that Bill passed away.  I am heart broken.  I know he is in a better place and that he is at peace, but as always, I crave that one last hug.


RIP Bill, you will be greatly missed and forever loved.