Category Archives: Uncategorized

August and everything after (and other things I love right now)

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[Preliminary Note/Disclaimer:  Here’s the thing — I’ve been sick in bed for a full fucking WEEK with the perfect storm of awfulness, i.e., bladder infection, some kind of cold/sore throat thingie, an apocalyptic peri menopausal period (sorry, you know how I am about compulsive disclosure), a pimple the size of a goiter on my neck (this didn’t send me to bed, per se, but I just want you to have the full picture of how my week has gone) and then, to top it all off, debilitating abdominal cramps (to be distinguished from the debilitating menstrual cramps solely by the location of the UTTER AGONY) from, it turns out, unhappy little creatures living in my intestines.  My point is that I’ve been cooped up and on a lot of drugs, ergo THIS POST MAY NOT MAKE SENSE]

[On the other hand it may make perfect sense.  Because drugs.]

[But what you should really know, is that I signed up for NaNoWriMo – National Novel Writing Month – which started on November 1 and which I  never even really  committed to (in my mind)  – partly because of my inner “fuck-you” (I’ve talked about her before, the one that says “Oh, you think I should do “X”, the thing that I already wanted to do?  FUCK YOU, I’m not doing it.”) and partly because of the bad memories from the last time I signed up for NaNoWriMo (to wit: my artistic genius mommy (with great hair) slipped and broke her hip in mid-November (2011) and I stopped writing and then she died a few weeks later and then I never ever wanted to go back and look at what I was writing, or even think about it, really,  because maybe, instead of writing, I should have been spending more time with her in what would turn out to be the last time she was ever happy in her life.  SO THERE’S THAT.  Fuck.  But my point here is that I signed up for NaNoWriMo and it’s Day 9 and I think the part of me that doesn’t want me to write actually sent the perfect storm of FUCKING AWFUL PHYSICAL AILMENTS to prevent any writing  from happening and now I’m starting to feel better physically (Yay medicine!), so instead of doing the NaNoWriMo writing, I’ve suddenly got  the urge to blog?   Right.]

[Just so we are all clear on why I’m suddenly blogging after being a horrible blogger for the past year: I’M WRITING THIS TO AVOID WRITING THAT NOVEL THAT I’VE BEEN MEANING TO WRITE FOR MY ENTIRE LIFE, PRACTICALLY.]

[It just occurred to me that perhaps my next soul retrieval thingy should be to find out who the inner “fuck you” voice is?  Is she the same as the inner avoidance queen?  If so, they are fucking bad ass.  I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to convince them to just fucking COOPERATE and play nicely with everyone else.  It seems they would rather almost kill me (ok, slight exaggeration, but I’m trying to make a point)(it did suck, though) than let me write?]

[And why am I acting like any of this is new?  Isn’t my blog called “avoiding my Brilliant Writing Career”?  Hello.]

[Still.]

I was going to write about how, in my mind, there was August (and it lasted f-o-r-e-v-e-r) and then everything else flew by and somehow it’s now November.  And I was going to write something philosophical about how time seems to be changing and/or my perception of time seems to be changing and how I wonder if this is just what happens when you start easing towards the end of life, rather than springing from the beginning – the trajectory changes and the weight of it behind you serves to accelerate life until it’s all a blur and then there’s an end, somehow. But I don’t really have much else to say about that.   Time.  It seems to be changing.  The end.

So I guess I will write a list  instead (act surprised and delighted, “a list! what an unexpected surprise!”) :

1.  Yes.  Yes, I am using the name of a Counting Crows album as my blog post title today.  I might as well just go ahead and confess that I’ve never gotten over “August and Everything After”…. I still love it.  Serious love.  I listen to it at least once a week.  It’s always on in my car.  (Except when The Cure is on) (but that is another blog post)

2.  And if you must know — I am flat out in love with Adam Duritz (lead singer, Counting Crows) based solely on the fact that he writes brilliant lyrics (and sometimes dresses up in a pink and white bunny costume)(and talks openly about struggling with mental health issues)(and is a white Jewish boy rocking dreads like nobody’s business)(and I’m pretty sure we had a moment (well, I know I had a moment) when he was looking right at me during a show at DU a million years ago)(which I’m quite sure he remembered when I saw them again at Red Rocks, like 10 more times…)(all that aside, it’s his words that get me)

3.   I am a total lyrics person.  I don’t even understand people who can say they like a song, but don’t know the lyrics.  What is the point?  Although, to be fair, there are probably a (very) few songs that I can say that I like, but don’t know the lyrics.  Like that Blinded by the Light song, which seems to say “wrapped up like a douchen of a runner in the night” but probably doesn’t…  Don’t get me wrong, I can sound it out and pretend I’m singing those songs, but I have no fucking clue what they are really saying.  But mostly, in life, I know the lyrics.

4.   Like these:

I step out the front door like a ghost
into the fog where no one notices
the contrast of
white on white
 And in between the moon and you
the angels get a better view
of the crumbling difference
between wrong and right…

(Round Here)

(The contrast of white on white?  The crumbling difference between wrong and right?  Adam fucking Duritz y’all)

4.  Also:

It’s 4:30 a.m. on a Tuesday
It doesn’t get much worse than this

 In beds in little rooms in buildings in the middle of these lives
Which are completely meaningless…

(Perfect Blue Buildings)

(Fucking Tuesdays, man.  Tuesdays and institutions and wondering what the fuck the exact point of all of it is.  I get that.)

5.  And I might stop after this one:

I’m almost drowning in her sea
She’s nearly crawling on her knees
It’s almost everything I need.

(Sullivan Street)

(It’s almost everything I need.)

6.  Sorry.  But did you see the warning/disclaimer above?  I feel like you should’ve known something like this could happen. (Plus I’m barely even scratching the surface of the Counting Crows lyrics that I love.  It feels wrong to stop here.  But I will.)

7.  Everyone should read this book.

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Well.  Everyone who has a sense of humor.  This isn’t any kind of “official” link — I don’t get money or anything if you buy it.  I just really believe most people should buy it and read it.  And laugh.

8.  What else?

9.  All that italicizing wore me out.

10.  I guess I should start thinking about what I’m going to write, you know, for real.  Maybe I should go back and read what I wrote in 2011?  I wonder how hard it is to write a good sex scene?  And by “good” I mean SO MUCH BETTER than that 50 Shades of Grey crap (which I read every word of, in all three books, so …..)  Hmmmmm.  I do have some Captain Kirk fantasies to explore…. 🙂

xoxo

kim

p.s.  Have I mentioned the rain?  It’s been crazy rainy here, pretty much since June.  There were a few weeks in the middle of the summer with no rain, but other than that?  RAIN.  Heat + Rain = Steamroom = Soggy/Grouchy/Kinda depressed Kim.  I’m ready for the amazing weather to come back.  That would be great.

p.s.s. or p.p.s. if you’re an English teacher or whatever… So ya, it seems I have parasites/amoebas/whatever in my gut.  Lovely.  Lucky for me, there’s medicine for that.  I’m starting with an 8 day regimen and hoping that is all I need.  And after this mess, I think I will do the preventative medicine every six months, like the doctor recommended when I first moved here, but which I failed to do, because sometimes I just don’t follow directions very well.  Or at all.

p.s.s.s.  I don’t just love Counting Crows lyrics.  In case you were wondering.  I just have “August and Everything After” on the brain tonight.  And to be honest, I’m not even sure Adam Duritz wrote all the lyrics I quoted, but I’m too lazy to look it up right now.  And it doesn’t matter.  Unconditional love, Adam.  That’s what I’m offering.  Or, you know, just sex.  😉

p.s.s.s.s.  Is it wrong to proposition a rock star via a postscript on your blog?  And then to entertain the fantasy that he has set up a google alert on his name, sees the proposition, proceeds to obsessively read everything you’ve ever written (on the blog), decides you’re fabulous and how interesting that you live in an awesome little town in Mexico (just like the girl in “Holiday in Spain” – avid fans will know what I’m talking about….) and how tired he is of dating fabulous (young) actresses and how you kind of remind him of his one-time lover Mary Louise Parker (in a fluffier, more middle-aged lawyer turned real estate agent/wanna be writer way) and decides it would be cool to reach out and say hello?  Is that wrong?

p.s.s.s.s.s.  I have a vivid fantasy life.  It’s entirely possible that Adam Duritz is a total dick.  Perfect.

p.s.s.s.s.s.s.  Is anyone still reading?  It occurs to me that my post title doesn’t exactly match my post.  I mean, I’m not really talking about all the things I love right now.  But I’m too tired to figure out another title.  Fuck it.

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Filed under Oh Mexico..., Uncategorized, Writing and Not-Writing

30 Things I Love Right Now (a/k/a another damn list)

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I can’t write.

Or I don’t want to write.

Or I am just not writing.

Any way you look at it, no writing is being done.

Except for right now, obviously.

And so I’m going to write.

A list, of course.

Today I’m inspired by T.J. Beitelman’s “30 Things I Love Right Now” (which I’ve been reading and loving for AGES (or at least a year), but have never actually done myself….).

So, here it is:

30 Things I Love Right Now

1.  Sunday mornings.

2.  Pinterest.  Seriously.  It’s becoming a problem.

3.  This elephant.

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4.  Fresh sheets right out of the dryer.

5.  My white fluffy towels.  Which are both a great idea (you can bleach them!) and a horrible idea (I wear fake tanning cream!) and still I love them.

6.  Chocolate.

7.  Especially the chocolate flavor of Abuelita’s hot chocolate.

8.  Which I’ve been drinking quite a bit of lately, despite the heat.  Maybe I should try iced hot chocolate?  Hmmmm.

9.  My treehouse room at the top of the stairs.  Windows on three sides, twin bed, bookshelves, an outlet = everything I need.

10.  My house.  Which is to say my Mom’s house, that I live in.  I love when people walk in for the first time and are blown away by the colors and fun.  I love when I see new things I never noticed before, which is pretty much always, since I mostly live in my head and don’t see things around me.

11.  Dreams.

12.  Specifically, remembering my dreams.  Last night I dreamt about my Mom.  I gave her a really long hug and remembered how tiny she was in the end.  It made me happy and sad.

13.  Lime sorbet.

14.  Lime popsicles.

15.  Limes

16.  Also lemons, but I haven’t been able to find them at the store lately.

17.  Music.

18.  Especially this:

19.  Thich Nhat Hanh.  Everything about him.

20.  Sitting with my friend Sharon in front of her store in the town square and watching people come and go. (Yes, I live in a place that has a town square — and it is awesome.)

21.  Amazon’s book store.  It’s dangerous and wonderful.

22.  My new purple skort.

23.  Skorts in general.

24.  This:

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25.  My friend Kim’s TV series recommendations — she turned me onto Orange is the New Black, The Killing, Luther, The Fall (Gillian Anderson!), Scandal, etc. etc.  (Note:  This Kim is real.  She lives in Cancun, not in my head.)

26.. Also her advice.  Which, to be honest, is pretty much always:  CALM DOWN, YOU’RE FINE.

27.  I’m in love with that moment when I let go of some crap that has been rolling around in my mind for too long and I finally realize it’s not important.  “Oh, ok….” (Sometimes as a direct result of the aforementioned Kim-advice)

28.  Lobster bisque at Las Palmeras.

29.  The silly monkey hanging from my rear-view mirror (the one in MY CAR, which I also LOVE).  He reminds me that I can be silly.  And also that I have big ears, but they’re cute.

30.  Writing.  Having written.  🙂

xoxo

kim

p.s.  this was actually pretty fun — although i was surprised that it was a bit tough to come up with 30 things.  that seems wrong.  i am going to work on appreciating what i appreciate a little bit more.

p.p.s.  my teacher has been out of town for awhile, so i haven’t done anything really spectacular in terms of major breakthroughs (which could happen with or without her, so i don’t know why i’m saying that)(anyway) but i am making space for the four year old kimmy and i’m making a conscious effort to be good to her and not to abandon her.  so far, so good.

p.p.p.s.  mexico is celebrating today!  it’s independence day here and tonight should be fun – fireworks!  music!  food!  Viva Mexico!

 

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Filed under Uncategorized

The elephant in my head is back and this time she is a little snarky, to be honest.

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[Warning:  So.  I’m finally back to writing about what is really going on with me. If you’re new here — you should probably go read one of the funny posts…  This one is uncomfortable and itchy and not as funny as the lists, but ultimately better for me, and hopefully my process/floundering around can help someone else out there who is struggling… or just make you laugh, I don’t know.  Anyway.  This was a hard one to write.]

I need to write.

I think this has been established.

Over and over again.

I need to write. It’s what I do. It’s how I process. It’s who I am.
(it makes me laugh, it makes other people laugh with (at?) me, it makes things better every single time)

And, to be honest, somehow, without even really (consciously) trying — I have built the perfect life for a writer who isn’t really a full-time writer yet — I have a job that is basically seasonal — very very busy for 4-5 months and almost deadly slow the rest of the year, I have TONS of free time, my son is in college and, apparently (sniff), doesn’t need me much anymore, I’ve run out of sick/dying relatives to take care of (OUCH), I’m single, I don’t even have a pet to take care of for God’s sake.  There is no reason why I shouldn’t be writing my fucking heart out almost every single day.

Well, there is one reason.

Remember the benevolent and stubborn elephant in my head who tried to keep me from writing when my mom was dying, because she thought it would be too much for me?  She’s back.  She’s big.  And she doesn’t seem friendly…

ME:  “So.  You’re back.  What the fuck?”

ELEPHANT:  (Refusing to look at me, spraying what I can only imagine is delightfully cool water over herself, because apparently the inside of my brain is as hot as my body at this point….)  “Well isn’t this interesting…. she finally notices the blatantly obvious huge mass that is moi.  And we used to think she was so quick.”

ME:  “Who are you talking to?  I’m right here.  I can hear you.”

ELEPHANT:  (Turning to gaze down at me with what I can only describe as a bemused look on her face)  “Who am I talking to?  Who are you talking to?  That is the real question.”

ME:  (eyes rolling)  “Don’t act like I’m crazy, I’m not.  You wanna know how I know? The elephants in real crazy people’s heads don’t like to point out that they are not, in fact, real elephants.  Everybody knows that.”

ELEPHANT: (cocking her head and chuckling)  “Whatever you say, baby girl.”

ME:  “I’m not a baby and it is whatever I say.  I know you’re not, like, an actual “being”.  But you are big and powerful and once again you’re standing right the fuck in the way of EVERYTHING.  I need to write.  I need to write and I need to process and all this Big Scary Stuff is coming up for me and you know it and you won’t move and you won’t even let me begin to look at it.   I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do this anymore.  Didn’t we have that agreement?  Why are you here again?”

ELEPHANT:  “A.  We did have an agreement. and B.  You broke it.  You’re the lawyer, what happens when agreements are broken?  The agreement is over, that’s what happens.  Law 101.  So I’m here.  And I’ve been here for a long time.”

Me:  “First of all, not all agreements are over if one person is in breach.  It depends on the kind of breach and the kind of contract and it’s all very convoluted and there’s never a simple answer, even though people want lawyers to give simple answers and OMG WHY IS MY LAWYER BRAIN ON RIGHT NOW???  How do you think I broke the agreement?”

ELEPHANT:  I said that I would stop worrying and not get in between you and your creative genius if you took care of yourself and didn’t get overwhelmed and depressed and lose yourself again and you said “of course I won’t do THAT again, look how healthy I am, look how I’m taking care of myself, of course you can stop worrying and protecting me from myself, I will never go down that road again, because I know what it looks like, I’m FINE…”  and you were fine, for awhile, sweet pea and then your mom died and you were still fine because you took care of yourself when you felt the grief turn to depression and you hung in there, but then things started changing and you started to lose yourself again and this time you didn’t see it, honey.  And I could see that you didn’t see it, so I came back to protect you.”

ME:  (trying to swallow lump in throat) “Oh. Thank you.”

ELEPHANT:   “Of course.”

ME: “You seem different.  Bigger.  More…. comprehensive?  I think you don’t just want to stop me from writing, you want to stop me from dealing with, or even looking at, the Big Scary Stuff that is being triggered all over the place for me right now.”

ELEPHANT:  “Yes, that’s true.  It’s too much.  You’re not ready.  If you start writing about it and dealing with it, it will overwhelm you and pull you under again and I can’t let that happen.  Better to avoid it altogether, I say.  Too messy.”

ME:  “I know you want to protect me, but I have to do this.  I have to look at the Big Scary Stuff now and I have to learn new ways to do things and I have to write about it.  It’s time.  I don’t want to keep living like this, I don’t want the Big Scary Stuff to control me and fuck things up and keep me from having what I most want and being who I really am.   Please move, please let me do this.”

ELEPHANT:  “I don’t think so.  You’ve said this before, and look what happened.  No, I think you’re better off avoiding it altogether.  You’re fine now, why change?”

ME:  “I’m not fine.  That is the point.  I’m not fine.  I’m very un-fine.  I am tired of repeating the same patterns over and over and over.  Nothing changes if nothing changes, right?  I’m alive. I’m surviving.  Sometimes I’m happy, but I am most definitely not fine.  And it’s not all hormones – some of it is, for sure.  And I’m working with a doctor to help with that.  I feel like everything (ok, most things) that are Big and Scary for me have been magnified and clarified for me in the last few weeks — in a very fucking uncomfortable and miserable way, but THANK GOD FOR CLARITY…. I know what I need to address, finally.  I really do.  And I am ready to do it now.  I really need you to work with me and help me do this, don’t stand in the way.  Don’t steer me away from what I have to do.  Don’t help me numb out, act out, do what I always do…. Help me change.  Please.”

ELEPHANT:  “No.  You’re not ready.  You know how I know you’re not ready?  You can’t even say what the Big Scary Stuff is out loud.  How do I know that you’ve gained some clarity when you can’t even say it?  Until you can say it, it’s dangerous to let you start working with it.  Like, tsunami of pain and shame and sad type of dangerous.”

ME:   “Fuck!”

ELEPHANT:  “That’s what I thought….”

ME:  (pulling myself back together and dusting off my shoulders)  “Fine.  Here’s what the Big Scary Stuff is — I am a huge black hole of needy insecurity.  I don’t even live in my body, I live in my head.  I don’t see what is going on around me because I’m so busy telling stories about it in my mind.  My mind can extrapolate the most amazing and negative stories that you will ever hear from virtually NO information.  [so I should be an AWESOME writer, right?] They are truly crazy and the best part about it is that I believe them….   And all of the stories involve me being unlovable, unloved, alone, doomed, ashamed, scared, useless, lazy, ugly, empty, dumb, a disappointment, failure, a mistake, an imposter and so on and so forth.  And because I believe all those things about myself, I don’t believe that anyone else could possibly value me.  And if they do somehow seem to value me, I question it and tear it apart and suck it dry.  And I don’t know how to give myself what I need, so I try to get it from other people (and, since I’m being painfully fucking honest, “people” = “men”, usually) — and I try to get it quickly because it’s an urgent need at this point — so I manipulate to get it and then don’t trust it when it comes, because of course I’ve manipulated it, so it isn’t real.  And when I can’t get what I think I desperately need exactly when I desperately need it – I can’t tolerate it.  I have to leave the relationship or keep escalating my attempts to get what I think I need and then I become bitchy and temper-tantrumish.  And if I DO get what I need?  I don’t really believe it, because deep down I am positive that I don’t deserve it and that somehow I was just so good at manipulating that I got it.  So I end up leaving the people who do love me, just as easily as I leave the people who don’t.  Because I can’t tell the difference.  Basically, I’m fucked up.  And exhausted.  And depressed.  And I want to learn how to be different.

ELEPHANT:   “Wow.  That’s big.  I know that was hard to figure out, much less admit out loud, sweet pea.  Do you see why I wanted to protect you?  I’m so proud of you.  I will go now, but I can’t promise not to come back.”

ME:  “I know.  Thank you.”

THE END

So.  There it is.  And here I am.  At least I’m writing.

xoxo

kim

p.s.  This was hard to write.  It’s hard to be vulnerable.  But it’s a process and I know it works for me to write/share.  But I’m not asking anyone out there to fix me, so don’t worry about that.  Support is great, though 🙂

p.s.s. or p.p.s. – whatever – Yes, I’m still doing the anti-antidepressant experiment, but am considering going back on them because this hole feels big and it snuck up on me and getting out of bed is hard.  Part of it is the heat.  I’m not kidding — if there isn’t a DSM for heat related depression, there should be.  This heat sucks the life out of me.

p.s.s.  It’s hot and I’ve been inside all day writing (writing!!!!!) – I’m heading to the beach now.  Somehow it always helps.  Look at this cool thing – from Pinterest.  I love Pinterest.

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p.s.s.s.  How is it the end of August?  Ugh.

p.s.s.s.s.  I’m playing with my wordpress theme again…. don’t worry, this isn’t the final choice 🙂

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Filed under My Big Book of Me, The Great Anti-Antidepressant Experiment of 2011, Uncategorized

Dear God, thanks for the preview of the average daily temperature in Hell. And the hormones. Love, Kim.

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Saludos from Puerto Morelos, Mexico a/k/a the chosen land for God’s latest demonstration project:

“Here’s what HELL feels like, people.  Straighten up!”

Just kidding.

It’s not even that hot here today. Only like 95 degrees with 10,000 % humidity.  I’m sure it’s more hot and more miserable somewhere else in the world at this very minute. And wherever that is, you can be sure there’s some smug person thinking “95 degrees with 10,000% humidity? Ha! Child’s play. That is the middle of winter for us. We start wearing jackets when it gets below 120 degrees.”

And to that person, I say:

“FUCK OFF”

Because I’m assuming that, even if they do live somewhere with extreme heat (but is it humid?  that is my new question….), they are not also simultaneously suffering from wicked perimenopausal HORMONES. You know, the ones that are totally unpredictable and sometimes decide to heat things up from the inside? Kind of like spontaneous combustion only instead of dying immediately, you get to stay alive and conscious and suffer through the heat.  Also, I’m  assuming that the person in question is a man. And if you’ve been keeping up, you know how I’ve been feeling about THOSE kinds of humans these days.

But seriously.  It’s pretty hot.  And it’s NOT a dry heat.

Which means I have ZERO motivation to do, well, anything.  But also, and more relevant to this discussion, I’ve had no motivation to write.  Yet here I am, apparently.  Let’s do this!

LIST OF THINGS I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT and/or DOING WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BEING SUBJECTED TO EXTREME HEAT AND HUMIDITY AND HORMONES:

1.  As a preliminary matter: I know you’re not surprised that this is a list.  When was the last time I was able to post anything that wasn’t a list?  Oh wait — I guess we know when that was….  Here.  The very last thing I posted….  What is wrong with me?

2.  Is it just me, or do other people constantly wonder if they are losing their minds?  I’m pretty sure I have early onset Alzheimer’s.  Well, I was pretty sure that’s what I had, then I looked into it (on the internet, naturally) and decided that I might not have that exactly.  I mean, I have a LOT of the symptoms, but not all.  So I only practically have early onset Alzheimer’s.  Anyway.  Something is up.

3.  And I’m not kidding or minimizing Alzheimer’s disease.  It’s awful.  I really don’t want to have it.  But I do seem to forget things a lot.  Turns out some of that can be attributed to this whole perimenopause thing that I’m apparently caught up in.  Thanks again for the hormones, God.

4.  And then there’s a whole swath of my life which I can barely recall.  I call it the “Lost Decade”, but it might’ve been a bit longer than that…  But Lost Decade sounds dramatic.  I remember some things, but mostly it’s just fuzzy.  That has been really bothering me, so I looked into it and, believe it or not, actually talked to a doctor about it.  Heavy sigh.  It turns out that I can’t remember the Lost Decade very well because I was seriously overmedicating with clonazepam (like Xanax, only longer lasting).

Clonazepam is great.

I liked it, a lot.  But, apparently, you were only supposed to use it short term for acute anxiety and then you were supposed to learn other ways to deal with anxiety….. What?!  I used that drug for years and, consequently, didn’t even try to figure out how to deal with anxiety because the instant I felt even the little tingle of a teensy bit of anxiety (or any other emotion, if I’m honest)  I popped a clonazepam and numbed right back out.  Problem solved!  NOT… Anyway, it took me a full year to get off that medication and I’m still learning how to deal with anxiety/emotion without it (or any substance/person/activity, for that matter).  And the long-term effect of abusing clonazepam is (you guessed it!) MEMORY LOSS.  Apparently it interferes with the mechanism for making memories and with the mechanism for recall of memories.

5.  Heavy sigh.

6.  Once again, I’m writing about stuff that I had no intention of writing about.  At least not today.  But there it is.  I was a SUBSTANCE ABUSER.  It’s been hard to wrap my head around that and actually admit it.  Especially out loud.  And it makes me sad.  My son was growing up during those years and, although I was there physically, I certainly wasn’t all there emotionally/mentally.  Which was hard on him.  And everyone else who loves me or had to deal with me.

7.  Or maybe I’m just losing my mind because I’m getting OLD.  That’s possible, you know.  I’m practically FIFTY.

8.  And my baby will be 21 in just a few weeks…. WTF?  How does that happen?

9.  How am I almost 50 though? (I realize I’m only 48.  And a half.  But time is slippery and 50 will be here soon and then what?  Why is this freaking me out so much?)

10.  Oh.  Well.  In other news related to my early onset Alzheimer’s + HORMONES (and/or me just being a Horrible Person) – THIS will make you laugh/cringe….

Remember when I blamed Mercury for my bitchy behavior towards the Nice (well, mostly nice) Man a few weeks ago?

Well, after I wrote about what happened, I felt pretty bad (duh).  So I apologized.  And for some reason the Nice (well, mostly nice) Man forgave me.  AGAIN. (Surprise, surprise, that little episode was not the first time I had acted irrationally and unexplainably bitchy towards this particularly lucky fellow)  Which totally shocked me.

Anyway.

Almost immediately after the forgiving, the following exchange happened:

[Sitting with some friends, having wine, talking about relationships and how they are difficult under the best of circumstances, and even more difficult with cultural/language/age differences….]

Nice (well, mostly nice) Man:  “Sometimes Kim has these reactions that are crazy!  Like, it’s not normal….”

Me:  “What do you mean?” (instantly defensive and truly shocked that this has been said…)

Nice (well, mostly nice) Man:  “Seriously?” (truly shocked and a bit taken aback at the fact that I appear to be truly shocked…)

Me:  (up in arms) “What do you mean “not normal”?  What does that even MEAN?  Give me an example!” (thinking that obviously there’s some kind of weird cultural difference thing going on here, maybe the women he’s used to just aren’t allowed to have OPINIONS or something like that and he can just kiss my ass if that’s what he’s looking for because I will be DAMNED if I….”

Nice (well, mostly nice) Man:  “Kim…?  Really?” (genuinely confused and starting to wonder if I’m kidding…)

Me:  (really getting defensive now) “I’m serious.  Give me an example?  How are my reactions not normal?” (apparently I’m totally triggered by the words “not normal”)

Nice (well, mostly nice) Man:  “Sometimes you get a little bit crazy, Kim.  Like your reactions are way out of proportion to what has happened.”  (note: he’s very calm, and there is a hint of laughter in his voice, which is only pissing me off even more than being called “not normal” — which is , in itself, hilarious because, in general, I would be offended by being described as “normal”, but here we are….)

Me:  (pouting and wracking my brain for any behavior that might justifiably be called “not normal” or “crazy” and finding NO EXAMPLES…) “I have no idea what you are talking about!  (and now I’m on the verge of tears, probably because HORMONES) “And furthermore,  if I’m such a (using air quotes, because I’m an ass) “crazy bitch” why are you even hanging out with me?” (Note:  I’m the only one that said “crazy bitch”, he just said “crazy”)

Nice (well, mostly nice) Man:  (laughing, because what else could he do?) “Maybe I like the crazy bitch…”

Me:  “Hmmmmmmph!”

THIS. ACTUALLY. HAPPENED.

Yes.  In that moment, I was positively MYSTIFIED by his description of my behavior.  “How could he think that my reactions are not normal?”  Granted, wine consumption may have played a role in my failure to appreciate the humor of this situation, but it shouldn’t have been THAT hard for me to remember that I had JUST lost my shit on this poor guy, for pretty much no reason, a few days prior.

Alzheimer’s?  Hormones?  Horrible Person?

12.  And he’s still speaking to me, so I guess I have to change his name from “Nice (well, mostly nice) Man”.  To, at the very least, “Nice Man”.  Until further notice, of course.

xoxo,

kim

p.s.  OMG I GOT A CAR!!!! I can’t believe I didn’t tell you guys (fucking Mercury….) – yes, after a year of living without a car (remember that pendejo who stole it?  he’s still around and totally NOT incarcerated) I was finally able to buy one.  You’re going to laugh – I am ridiculously happy about this car, but it’s even older than the one that was stolen — it’s a 1999 Blazer — and it has a zillion miles on it and I say a little prayer every time I start the car asking her to hold together for me one more day and so far she has been perfect!  Her name is Blanquita.  And she’s mine 🙂

p.p.s.  I don’t really want to talk/write too much about the man formerly known as the Nice (well, mostly nice) Man because I might jinx it (hello) and also because there’s like a zillion reasons that it will probably never work out (whatever “work out” even means…) and I’m fully aware of all of them and still I’m kind of drawn to the fact that he hasn’t run away screaming and he doesn’t let me get away with much.  At all.  Which scares the shit out of me, but also is pretty good for me.  I think.  But seriously…. who wants to get involved with a woman on the verge of menopause?  I AM CRAZY.  He’s right!  Regardless of whether or not I was crazy before my hormones started flipping the fuck out (ummm, I probably was) I am nuts now.  My emotions are everywhere.  My body is weird.  I never know if I’m going to bleed/not bleed/ cramp/nightsweat/etc.  And I’m enormous.  Also – (WHEN DOES THE DEGRADATION OF WOMEN END, GOD??) – I’m hairy.  What could he possibly see that is at all attractive about me at this point?  I don’t get it.  And so I have a hard time trusting it.  Which is probably the exact wrong thing.

p.p.p.s.  OMG is my blog now about menopause?  How do I not have a post called “Because Hormones”?

p.p.p.p.s.  you learn something new every day — I always thought it was “racking my brain” – but the internet says it’s “wracking my brain” – huh.

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Filed under Oh Mexico..., The Great Anti-Antidepressant Experiment of 2011, Uncategorized

Because Mercury.

Mercury-60584068

Turns out Mercury is in retrograde.

I’m not even really sure what that means, like, scientifically, but, as a practical matter, it means that I’m totally fucked for a few weeks, and you are too, probably.

🙂

Apparently Mercury is in charge of communications and other vitally important things.  When Mercury is in retrograde, communication is wobbly, thinking is less clear, travel is difficult, mechanical things break down and frustration is rampant.  At least that’s what the “experts” say.

I believe them.

And, given what we know about Mercury in retrograde, I for one believe that, until further notice, and/or until Mercury turns direct, we are just going to have to agree that Mercury in retrograde is now an acceptable explanation for all sorts of (arguably) “bad” behavior on, well, at the very least, my part:

Why am I being an irrational man-hating bitch?  Because Mercury.

Why am I unable to converse intelligently with other human beings about everyday matters, such as the weather, sports, and the like?  Because Mercury, duh.

Why am I unable to concentrate on any one thing for more than 22 seconds?  Because Mercury, of course.

Why am I publishing a post that I haven’t really “fleshed out” and is only marginally entertaining, and quite possibly just entertaining for me?  Because Mercury, dammit!

See?  Because Mercury  is totally a thing — statement/explanation/whatever –and here are a few real-life scenarios that I believe Mercury in Retrograde is pretty much entirely responsible for:

1.  My Radical Feminist rant and related feelings of unmitigated rage against all things male (except my awesome son, who (whom?) even Mercury in Retrograde cannot tarnish, for now…).  I’m not backing off my rant entirely, I’m just acknowledging that the rage may be a tad supercharged at the moment.  Because Mercury.

2.  And the aforementioned unmitigated rage then led to this exchange on FB chat (paraphrased) with a Nice (well, mostly nice) Man (ok, he’s not the nicest guy ever, but he’s far from being a total dickhead, which is how I treated him — read on):

Nice (well, mostly nice) Man:  “Hey, I would like to see you!”

Me:  “I dunno.  Things weren’t absolutely perfect the last time I saw you.  Are you going to be a dick again?  My guess is YES…  Well  move along with your bullshit because I’M NOT HAVING IT.  I’m smarter than you, more mature than you and I don’t need you, so fuck right off and go find some stupid little slut who is entirely low maintenance and stupid and actually wants to put up with your BULLSHIT “macho” routine.”

Nice (well, mostly nice) Man:  “Ummmm? What?  Where is this coming from?”

Me:  “What do you mean, “Where is this coming from?”  Remember your little “Hey, I am not going to be sweet, I’m a “macho man” thing?  Whatever the fuck THAT means…. Have you even READ MY BLOG?  I’m sure you haven’t, because why would you?  All you care about is YOU YOU YOU.  If you had read it, you would know that I am not putting up with your male shit. EVER.  I am the LAST WOMAN ON EARTH who needs to waste her time with a self-described “macho man”…. PLEASE…Fucking men.”

[Phone rings – mostly nice man (bravely) tries to call — twice — To be honest, I am trying to get ready for work, but mostly I’m enjoying ignoring the phone and thinking “OH YAAAAA, how do you like THAT?  Sucks to be ignored, RIGHT??!”]

Nice (well, mostly nice) Man:  “OK, I just tried to call you… What is going on? Why aren’t you picking up?  What macho routine?  I made one joke about being a “macho man” — I even wrote “ha ha”?  We are in Mexico?  “Machismo”??”

Me:  “I don’t have time to talk on the phone, DICKHEAD.  (Re-reading what he wrote earlier and thinking:  Oh shit, he probably was joking about the macho thing…)  Go away.”

[15 minutes pass…I’m starting to realize that it’s possible that I’ve entirely overreacted and I’m feeling bad about my behavior, but also, strangely, a little smug about it, because FUCK MEN.)

Nice (well, mostly nice) Man:  “Hey, great blog.  Congrats.  I really would like to see you, but it sounds like that may not happen.  Take care.”

Me:  …… [Inside:  cringe – maybe I was a leetle harsh… Because Mercury?]

3.  And then the unmitigated rage, still unmitigated, led to this little scene:

Email from a professional colleague who is, you guessed it, MALE:

“We can meet at my office tomorrow at 4 p.m. to discuss the presentation. Please confirm.”

My reaction:

“WTF? [shoving my laptop away and dramatically pounding my fist on the conference room table!] YOU are NOT the boss of ME, asshole.  Why would I come to YOUR office?  I have an office, too, or didn’t you think women could have offices?  Why can’t we meet at my office? And who says I’m available tomorrow?  [NOTE:  I did.  In an earlier email I  had indicated that I was available all week and that my schedule was entirely flexible….] and why 4 p.m.? I didn’t move to fucking Mexico to work LATE…  Who the fuck do you think you ARE?  Fucking ordering me to your office?  I am a LAWYER.  I put up with male lawyer bullshit for years, stupid dick-swinging men who treat all women like SECRETARIES.  I AM NOT YOUR SECRETARY and you are NOT pushing me around little man….. This. Is. Not. Happening.”

What I actually wrote back:

“Great!  See you then!”

BECAUSE EVEN WITH MERCURY IN RETROGRADE, I’M A PROFESSIONAL, PEOPLE.

4.  And, finally, an event not directly related to the still unmitigated rage, but probably entirely related to Because Mercury happened like THIS:

I come into the house from the office and it’s hot and humid and muggy and all I want to do is get my work clothes off and a loose fitting mu-mu like garment on ASAFP and I take off my dress and then I can’t get my damn bra undone….. I’ve done this a MILLION times?  Why can’t I get it undone?  Eventually I realize that my fingers aren’t event touching the right part of the bra?  It’s like I’m having a STROKE or something….  I finally actually LOOK at what I’m doing and I see that my bra is on INSIDE OUT.  Yes, I’ve worn it inside out all day long.  I don’t even know how I got it on???  Only women will understand this — I must have used opposite hands in clasping it together this morning?  WHAT??  How does that even happen?  How did I not notice how uncomfortable and INSIDE OUT this bra was all day long?

BECAUSE MERCURY.

That’s how.

xoxo

kim

p.s.  do you guys read the bloggess??  if you don’t, you should.  she is hilarious and she wrote a post about the term “because wine” which, i’m sure, influenced my “because MERCURY” explanation for the weirdness of the past few days.  also, she’s famous and she’s sometimes stabby and depressed, just like the rest of us.  check her out.

p.s.s.  i’m not saying that i regret writing the radical feminist rant, i just think my rage is somewhat MAGNIFIED at the moment and that it’s entirely due to MERCURY and not hormones.

p.s.s.s.  i’m not saying hormones are not an issue, because clearly they are.  i’m pre-menopausal, peri-whatever-pausal and i just want my uterus to be GONE already and to stop fucking with me.  it’s hard enough to be fucking human without also being a human with raging hormones and have things that used to be like clockwork and easy turn into horrifying events occurring whenever they fucking FEEL like it and make you think you’re DYING from blood loss (sorry, gross, but fuck it – fact of life) and/or you’re spontaneously combusting.

p.s.s.s.s.  here’s a handy website to check when things are weird and nothing works and you wonder what the fuck is going on — is mercury in retrograde? check here: http://www.ismercuryinretrograde.com/ — it won’t fix anything, but you might feel better.

p.s.s.s.s.s.  hey, i just wrote another blog post!  yay!

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The worst part about all this is that I’m *not* a lesbian.

get-angry-and-smash-patriarchy-1

*Dear Reader – I say “fuck’.  A lot.  Especially today.  Just a friendly warning!  Also, I’m ranting.  I don’t usually rant.  Well, sometimes I rant.  Non-ranting posts aplenty can be found in my archives over there on the right side of this page.  Kim”

The original title of this post was a somewhat uninspiring “Status Update.”

And the “update” was that I finally felt like writing enough to sit my ass down and start touching my fingers to the keyboard and making words after, like, 5 months of intense not-writing.

And then I felt a list coming on, and then I started the list, and then I started ranting and lamenting the fact that I am not a lesbian and, well, you can read it for yourself.

Anyway.

It appears that today is the day that I stop not-writing.

Yay?

List of Shit I’ve Been Doing and/or Thinking About Since the Last Time I Blogged:

1.  Becoming a Radical Feminist.

2.  So.  I’m not even really sure what “feminist” or “feminism” means to me, much less what it means to other people, but I think I’m becoming one.  A feminist.  FEMINIST.  Maybe even a Radical Feminist.  And I blame the Republican party for pushing me here.  Fuck them.  And really, fuck men.  Who put them in charge?  When was it ever a good idea to let men be in charge?  Maybe during our early existence on this planet when somehow they got better at fighting off predators?  MAYBE.  But then we should’ve reined them back in.  Because now we have zillions of years of being fucking burned at the stake and controlled and patronized and shamed and used and sidelined and double-standarded and, to top it off,  they’ve destroyed our planet.  Not alone, obviously.  But most major money grubbing asshole corporations are controlled by men and the governments who allow the destruction of their natural resources/our planet are primarily led by MEN.  But I digress…  Mostly they have just completely fucked and enslaved women, literally, for eons and now that we are finally inching out way out of it and into a more equal status quo, Republican men (and Republican women, who shouldn’t even EXIST, honestly) are going batshit crazy with rage at our audacity.  Fuck them.  Seriously.

3.  Yes, Mom, I appreciate the irony.  After years of teasing you about being a man-hater, it appears that I have finally seen what you were struggling with.  Not men, per se.  The entire fucking patriarchal system.   I’m sorry you’re not actually alive to say “I told you so, Kimmy!” in person, but believe me, I can hear you.  And I love you.  And I miss you.

4.  And I’m not a man-hater.  I love my son. (Even though he thinks he is a Republican right now, which, I have to say, is a bitter fucking pill to swallow.)  And a few other select men who haven’t been total assholes over the course of my life so far.  I love the possibility that better men will come out of this period in our cultural growth.

5.  I’m serious, I don’t hate men, generally.  But my level of tolerance for their bullshit is extremely fucking low at this point.

6.  Also, my hormones might be acting up.

7.  But fuck that!  Why do I have to apologize for having hormones?  I hate that I even felt like I had to throw that in.

8.  Exhibit A of how they have criminalized BEING A WOMAN.

9.  The worst part of all this is that I’m not a lesbian.  Yep, I’m annoyed out of my mind at fucking men and their fucking attitudes and total bullshit and yet I’m still attracted to them.  THEORETICALLY, I guess.  It’s been awhile since I’ve actually had that twitterpated feeling.  You know, the feeling which generally results in ill-advised casual sex that I rationalize that I can handle because I’m a modern woman unfettered by cultural bullshit expectations that I don’t really like sex and “shouldn’t” be having it outside of marriage and/or the possibility of a second fucking DATE.

10.  Oh.  And I should mention that part of my own personal Radical Feminism revolves around the fact that women have been complicit in our own doom.  We accept.  We ask for fucking permission.  We ostracize and belittle and shame other women who don’t fit into the entirely unrealistic (it turns out….) vision of the perfect woman that MEN have imposed upon us.  We don’t stand up for ourselves or other women.

11.  And the only way we succeed is by pretending to be men. “It’s a man’s world.”  “Don’t show your feelings!”  “Never let them see you sweat!”  And we do it.  WE DO IT.  And we still don’t get paid the same, treated the same, promoted the same.  And if, somehow, a miracle happens and we do succeed?  “She fucked her way to the top.”  “She’s a ball-breaker.”  “She’s a bitch.”  “Her poor children.”

12.  How am I not a lesbian?  Honestly.  If only it were a choice….. 🙂

13.  Deep breath.

14.  I didn’t know that whole “Radical Feminism” thing was coming when I started writing today, I promise.

15.  Well, I knew it was brewing.

16.  What else?

17.  Oh, in addition to becoming a Radical Feminist, or whatever, I went back to Colorado (Colorado!) for a few weeks.  It was AWESOME!  There’s nothing like being with family and old friends to ground you and remind you of who you are, who you were, unconditional love.  That is the hardest part (for me) about living so far away — no one here has known me for any length of time.  They only know the Kim whose life has totally changed in the last few years and who doesn’t know what the fuck she wants to do.  They don’t know Lawyer Kim who worked her ass off for years.  They don’t know Mommy Kim or Married Kim or Kim who lives in her own house, or Kim who drives her own car, or Kim who loves Prince (a/k/a College Kim!) or Kim with a house full of dogs and a cat named Max, who is the only cat she’s ever loved.  It’s ok.  It’s just weird.

18.  When I’m in Colorado, I want to move back there.  And when I’m here in Mexico, I can’t imagine leaving.  So there’s that.

19.  Which doesn’t make anything any easier.

20.  Thinking about moving back to Colorado made me consider the fact that I have pretty much the perfect situation right now, in many ways.  I have a job that, for the first time in many years, isn’t horrifically depressing and doesn’t take up my entire life.  I can do my job and still have plenty of time to do other things.  Like, for example, WRITE.

21.  So that’s what I’m doing.  And I started today.  Yay!

xoxo

kim

p.s.  guess what else happened when i was in colorado?  new baby.  quinn maxine  who is my second cousin, arrived super-early and scared the crap out of all of us, but she is beautiful and is doing really, unbelievably, well and weighs 4 lbs. now!

p.p.s.  i’m not sure where i’m going with this whole “Radical Feminist” thing, i mean, i’m not saying women are “better” than men or that all men suck, i’m just saying that the centuries of oppression of women have totally sucked and fuck you, men for benefitting from all that and trying to keep us “in our place” even today.

p.p.p.s.  i’m pretty sure i’m going to have to re-think this whole lesbian thing, as i will probably never have another “date”/sex opportunity with a man after writing this…. i really didn’t want to become a bitter man-hating woman but the republicans have pretty much forced me into it.  a waiting period and ultra-sound to get BIRTH CONTROL??????  changing the time-stamp on the texas vote on the abortion bill??????? and those are just the most recent events…  fucking outrageous conduct leads to outrageous consequences.

p.p.p.s.  i haven’t even been able to process how i feel about our government spying on us on account of the republicans, but i’m pretty sure i’m a little upset about that too.  stay tuned.

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Filed under My Big Book of Me, Uncategorized, Writing and Not-Writing

One thing leads to another and the next thing you know you haven’t posted on your blog for 5 months and then it’s National Margarita Day and you read something heartbreaking and raw and then you decide to write something yourself.

Margarita step threeOh hellooooooooo.

Hello blog.  Hello blog people.  Hello world.  Hello to the part of me who has always been a writer but who doesn’t always get to write.  Today is your lucky day, sweet pea.  We are writing.

Why now?

Honestly, it has a lot to do with this http://therumpus.net/2013/02/it-doesnt-mean-very-much-at-all/ — not the feminist part, but the part about how she writes and I flinch and my brain tries to cover my eyes but I can’t stop reading because it’s so so so so goood.

And also because it’s about feminism and sexuality and how women are supposed to hide their sexuality, apologize for it, repent, speak in hushed tones, play a game.  What would it be like if we were allowed to revel in it like the boys?

Anyway.

I mean, I have all these thoughts about it (sexuality, specifically mine), but I can’t even write them down and say them out loud because (eek!) I’m a woman! and (gasp!) I have a son! and (the horror!) I live in a small town! and (egads!) what would people think?!

So.

Mostly I just love how that woman writes and she inspired me.  I didn’t really plan on exploring sexuality or feminism or anything.

Actually.

On the other hand, I do have some, ummm, situations that I want need to explore in writing, but can’t/won’t/ok might because of the aforementioned fucked-upness about women and sex (but probably mostly because of the small town)(which I should probably get over, right?)(or move…)

So don’t try to make me.

Other than to say that my entire life might be a cliche right now.

In other news – hello!

I’m still in Mexico, y’all…!

And, in keeping with tradition, here’s a list of shit I’m doing/have done/am thinking about, etc.:

  1. It’s National Margarita Day (in the U.S., but we’re celebrating it here too)(I haven’t started drinking yet, FYI…)(I don’t love tequila, but I do love lime and all things lime-related, so, I guess I’ll have a margarita today…)
  2. Did I tell you guys about how I went back to Colorado for Thanksgiving and my one week trip turned into almost 5 weeks because I was also applying for my visa that allows me to work in Mexico and Mexico just changed their entire Immigration system but forgot to tell their employees how to do it and I just happened to be one of the first people to apply under the new system and no one in Mexico or  Colorado knew what to do?  Limbo.  It sucked.  But was also awesome because Colorado and amazing son and family and friends.
  3. It was weird though because Colorado was warm.  I only saw like 10 snowflakes one morning out of the entire 5 weeks.  I love it here,  but I long for a quiet snow morning with hot tea and snowflake contemplation and warmies.
  4. Anyway.
  5. Then I came back and my first renter arrived (from Norway!) and she turned out to be batshit, certifiably, fresh out of a mental institution and obsessed with the end of the Mayan calendar crazy….  For. Fucking. Real.  She had a lot of names, but one of my favorites was Mooki.  Luckily I’ve had some experience dealing with people who are actually nuts, but Mooki was kinda scary.
  6. And now I play “Words with Friends” (a/k/a Scrabble…) on FB with Mooki’s ex-husband…. ? (Who appears to be terribly good looking but also “in a relationship”… just my luck.)(He’s also pretty good at Scrabble…)(Which makes him even more attractive….. HEAVY FUCKING SIGH.)
  7. I like smart men.
  8. Ha. Oh God.  I can just imagine what you’re thinking.
  9. So.  What else.  My son is IN LOVE for, I think, the first time and it’s very cute.  I’ve stalked the girl on FB (naturally….) and she seems cool/smart/pretty.  He’s funny.  He says she’s stubborn and dramatic.  I tell him that she is perfect for him because he has so much experience with me as his mommy.  He laughs and agrees.  God help me I adore that kid.
  10. It’s hard because she’s probably going to break his heart.  It’s nothing personal!  I just mean,  statistically speaking, she’s probably not going to be “The One”, so I probably should just skip the getting to know and like her part because of the whole “bitch broke my sweet pea’s heart” part, right?
  11. Is being a mother ever going to be less fraught with emotion?
  12. Is that even a proper sentence?
  13.  I LOVE MY JOB.  Remember how much I hated practicing law?  That’s how much I love this job.  I’m making ZERO money so far, but the people I work with are amazing and the clients are interesting/annoying/hilarious.
  14. Ohhhhh, wanna see the Studio apartment at my house?  It’s very cool and people who have visited seem to love it!  I have it listed on FlipKey and Airbnb – here’s a link:   https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/686258?preview=true
  15. Come visit!
  16. My sister and niece came to visit and it was awesome and they left with a DOG that they adopted from foster care here in PoMo… I’m not kidding.  It was a fun visit, but way too short and also, the dog thing??  It took up a LOT of our limited time.  Still.  Everyone is happy now.
  17. My 30th (THIRTIETH) High School Reunion is coming up.  WTF????  Don’t know if I can go yet.  Must diet.
  18. I listen to KBCO out of Boulder, CO every morning via the miracle of the internet — I love it because I love the music and I love hearing the weather report and the traffic report and going “HA HA!” and sometimes they make my whole day by playing one song.  Today it was this one:

How did I get here? Once in a lifetime… 🙂

xoxoxoxo

kim

p.s.  are you happy now irene?

p.s.s.  yes, natalie, i know there is no such thing as a “p.s.s.” but i like it, so i’m gonna use it.  get your rules off my writing!!  xoxoxo

p.s.s.s.  i’m a little giddy because I WROTE SOMETHING!  FINALLY! it’s been awhile and this isn’t even a real post, but still…

p.s.s.s.s.  you were nervous when it looked like i was gonna talk about sex and stuff, weren’t you?  admit it.

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Filed under My Big Book of Me, Oh Mexico..., Uncategorized, Writing and Not-Writing