Finals...

I don't take 'em anymore.  I'm too cool for school.  Ok, not really.  I'm just freaking old.  (Freshman year of high school was a DECADE ago)

That said, I figure I should have finals, too.  And since I just reached 100 posts this week, I thought this would be a good time to kind of "grade" my blog.  

I don't want to be the only one to grade it, though.  I want some feedback.  I'm thinking that this year, my blog has sucked overall.  (This year being 2011 only)  I haven't blogged much.  Mostly it's been about how I don't write anymore and should, yadda yadda.  Some of it has been bitching.  But there have been a couple "touching" pieces.  (That's a quote from a friend...)  I've been more ranty this year... So, overall, I'd say fail.

However, once, a person named "Anonymous" recommend I write about "stuff" rather than me.  That's kind of what Karma was supposed to be and a little bit what Religious Marketing was supposed to be.  Same with a couple others.  Clearly, April 22nd was clearly just a piece of non-fiction.  And since the goal of my writing is to work towards being a better non-fiction writer, I'd say that that's good.  And overall, I'd say in the last couple weeks, it's probably improved.  But overall 2011 grade is F.

I'd like to hear what you people want me to write about.  If you even care.  If you don't, I'll just keep it as I feel I wanna.  I get bored and I write, I get pissed and I write.  I don't REALLY need topics.  But, if you wanna "shout some out," I'll see what I can do.

And thanks for following.  And agreeing that I got an F!  :-P

Threat.

***Disclaimer:  please remember that sometimes my blog is used to vent.  Sometimes it's used to untangle my brain.  This post is untangling my brain as well as making an attempt to explain something that's really nothing.***

I'm a fairly strong, independent person.  My boyfriend described me as a "strong-willed, confident girl."  That said, I'm a formidable opponent - I've been told. 

I'm not likely to back down if I think something should be one way.  I'm not likely to let people walk all over me.  I'll do too much for people, but I have a reason for it.  I'm not being begged to help.  I'm not being used by people.

People have talked shit about me my entire life - and those people have always been female (or girly men... which there are way too many of).  And most of the women who have done it have eventually come out and admitted it was because they were jealous of the fact that a guy was flirting with me (which I seldom notice) or I have a nicer rack (not kidding - that has happened... more than once) or I this or that.  And it's always over petty, petty stuff. 

My FAVORITE one though, is when people finally admit (and I say people, because it has happened more than once), "I was being mean and talking crap because... Well, people like you.  And you seemed to know that, and I figured, like, people might like me more if they know that I know some crap about you.  Like we're close or something..."  And, ok.  Sure, you might get "put on the map" that way, but, freakin A!  You're on the map for being a bitch.  I have lots of friends and a (generally) drama-free lifestyle 'cause I live and let live.



I was recently talking to a friend who told me this, "I noticed that the men are really nice to me, and the women aren't."  And it's (generally) true for her and it's (generally) true for me.  I have a very limited number of female friends.  I don't get along with females.  They bother me.  Their incessant yammering, chattering, and gossip grates on my nerves more than nails on a chalk board.  Thus, my friends that are girls don't do that.  And they're awesome.  When they "gossip," they are really venting - and I think that's healthy.  There's none of this, "He said, she said, that you said that he said," crap happening.  That crap needs to stop.  I hate it.  So therefore, in general, I don't like women.


My "live and let live" and "women suck" attitude is apparent to almost everyone I know.  I say that confidently because people comment on it quite frequently.  I've had many girls tell me that they wish they could get along with guys like I do - play poker, football, watch dumb TV shows, talk about booze, etc.  Guess what?  It's easy.  Just shut up about the frikkin' drama.  Don't hang out with a bunch of dudes and tell 'em what you heard your friend say about your other friend.


Just today, I was told (by someone else), "Remember the Marc Antony complex - most people only get ahead by stepping on others....in this case both X and Y are doing that....you are a threat."  Sadly, it's true.  And it's not the first time it's happened. 

So, cocky as it sounds, I'm a freakin' threat, apparently.  And when people get threatened, they get mean.  And I get pissed.  And I don't handle that so well.


All I'm saying is that people (women, mostly) who get offended by my carefree, while also rather uptight (David has also called me Monica before...), but confident and free-willed personality shouldn't attempt to "take me down a notch."  I'm not cocky.  I'm just not afraid to be me.  That shouldn't make me a threat.  Or an opponent.  Or an anything else that is basically the opposite of team mate.  We're all the same freaking species of human.  I'm just a different one and not all hung up on stupid shit.  And I'll go WalMart and be dressed worthy of the "People of Walmart" site and not give a crap less.

Karma.

Typically, I do my best to be a good person.  Sure, I screw it up.  I’m human.  I’m not too concerned about aiming for perfection.  But I really do make a solid effort to put others before myself – all the time.

Apparently, it doesn’t pay off.

I’ve been learning this a lot lately.  A good friend of mine and I were talking recently about how she does her best to always do her best, help as often as possible, and be there for people, etc.  “What goes around, comes around,” we decided.  If you’re a bitch, probably people are going to be a bitch back.

What I have been learning, however, is this: if you are not a bitch, people just figure you’re ok on your own and you never need attention or help.  Because you don’t demand others do things for you, expect people to do what you want when you want or what have you, you end up ignored and when you do actually have a need (or even just desire), it’s pushed to the bottom because the bitches have bitched long enough.

So fuck karma.  Why should I be super-good to people just to get shoved aside when I actually need something?

April 22nd

Sometimes I sing. I make sure it isn't too often. I love music, though, and love to sing when I'm alone in my car.

One song that will forever be in the back of my mind is "Amazing Grace." It may as well be THE funeral song. It has proven to be so in my life. The somber melody almost creates the ability to ignore the lyrics. Sang softly, loudly, solo, a cappela, by a choir, played by bag pipes, piano, violin; it barely matters. It's haunting almost.

My aunt sang it at my Unca Dave's funeral 12 years ago.

In his honor and memory, I got the treble clef of the first line tattooed to my left wrist this past fall.

Before it had time to heal, an old friend of mine passed away (by old, I mean both in her 80s and having known her for a long time - she was at my uncle's funeral). Her name was Mary.

I was asked to speak/talk/share/sing at her funeral. What I did and how I did it was mostly up to me. As I sat and talked about it with Mary's son and not-quite-daughter-in-law, we shared stories and memories. The one that immediately stood out to me was when Jill (the not-quite-daughter-in-law), Mary and I had been fooling around with my "piano." We were singing along with the preprogammed songs when we came across "Amazing Grace."

I immediately thought of Unca Dave. Mary tried to sing along and teared up a little - I'll never be sure why.

Jill and I talked about a few songs I could sing - I figured singing something generic would be easier than talking about how much and why I loved Mary. We settled on "Amazing Grace."

Deep down, I knew I couldn't do it. I shoved those thoughts and feelings aside and drove around Albuquerque for the rest of the afternoon, tears streaming down my face, iPhone with googled lyrics on the screen in hand, trying to find a key I could sing in and still sound decent if my sobbing became uncontrollable.

I was singing the next day.

I woke up the day of the funeral. Told my boss I wouldn't be coming in until I could (or the next day) and took my time slipping into a black, 20s-style dress and a set of pearls. I threw on some more jewelry - Mary always "got a kick out of my jewelry."

I walked down the hall of my apartment complex (where Mary had lived for years and I had gotten to know her so well). Almost in a daze. I walked to my car. Noticed that leaving then would get me to the service about 30 minutes early.

I wormed my way down to the service instead of taking a direct route. Avoiding singing or humming the song all the way there. I didn't want to get worked up until I had to.

I stopped at Starbucks and told myself, "An iced green tea will help clear your throat of the unending tears of the past days. It'll calm you down and cool you off."

I was sort of right.

I drove the few more minutes to the service and got there just as Jill started pulling pictures, the guest book, a cooler full of beer and other things out of her car.

I helped her.

Still in a daze. My mind was on "Amazing Grace" and my Unca Dave as much as it was on Mary at that point.

Finished unloading.

Talking to some pastor about how special I am for singing in an old lady's memorial. All I could think was, "From what I know, you're not from Albuquerque and never met her. Also, you're awkward and just checked me out. But thanks for the sentiment." I smiled and nodded.

Jill dragged me outside for a quick smoke. Then inside for a quick pee, "so we didn't have to run out during the ceremony."

The ceremony started. I sat with my best friend to my left. His dad (my dad) behind me, with his girlfriend to his left. My grandfather (who had known Mary since college) was across the auditorium. A friend of mine (Matt - Mary's son's employee) behind me to my right. Jill and Pete (Mary's son) in front if me to my left.

The pastor who didn't know Mary blabbed about how amazing Mary was. He had only heard of her that week. Then her kid's friends shared stories about how amazing she was. That was touching.

I was fighting back tears.

I wanted to share why I was going to sing "Amazing Grace."

The lump in my throat only got bigger.

Jill finally mentioned the story - kind of. It was enough.

Suddenly, "And now, Kekky, a young friend of Mary's is going to sing for us."

I stood up. Completely in a fog. Certain I had no idea what I was doing. All I could think was, "For Unca Dave and Mary. They'd both be proud."

Without stuttering, without fumbling and without falling off key, I sang the song. Too high. As soon as I sang the first note, I knew it was too high.

I grabbed my left wrist with my right hand, stared past anyone who cared and set "performing" aside.

I kept telling myself, "Remember the tattoo. Remember Mary's face when you sang. Unca David is smiling down on you."

I finally sat back down after singing three haunting verses; knowing I couldn't have done it without my tattoo, without Unca David.

No one clapped.

Peter said, "Thank you, Kekky," with a glisten in his eyes.

Jill was wiping her eyes. Tissues were being passed around on the other side of the auditorium.

I sat by my best friend and grabbed his arm for comfort. He handed me a tissue and cried himself. His dad leaned forward, patted me on the head and said, "That was beautiful, Kekky."

The tears wouldn't stop. I had no more obligation to the service and don't recall much more.

When it was over, I stood up and walked to my grandfather to help him to his car. He said he loved me and was proud of me. I mentioned the tattoo and my aunt singing it for Unca David. He looked sad, but like it had shaped who he had become.

I couldn't help but laugh and smile at the small talk that ensued on the way to car.

I kissed him goodbye and teared up again because of how amazing he is.

I walked back into the building only to be told over and over how beautiful it was and how much people appreciated it.

I felt almost guilty because of how many of my thoughts were turned more to Unca David than Mary.

I couldn't have sang for her without him. I know she knew that. And I know she loved that I sang. And I knew Unca Dave was proud.

He's been gone for 12 years today. And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I wouldn't be who I am without him.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Religious Marketing

I thought I’d take the time on Good Friday to write a quick post about marketing religion and religious services.  I get it.  I’ve been there.  I worked in a church for three years and was regularly involved in “getting people to church.”  They call it “outreach.”  It can be done with door-to-door brochure/flyer leaving.  Cheesy church signs.  Cheesy banners.  One year, our youth group did it with a Christmas caroling event in the neighborhood near the church.

Now, it’s unending Facebook statuses with links to flyers which are starting to look more and more like posters for concerts.  If it’s not Facebook, it’s Twitter.  And sooo many of the statuses end with things like, “See you there!”  Which is almost like a command to go.

It’s an attempt to get more people in the door.  I get it.

But what’s the point?  To shove religion down people’s throat?  I’ve done the whole alter call thing, the baptism thing, all of it.  When I log in to Facebook, I’m not excited to see “Come to church this weekend!  Let Jesus work in your life and Such and Such Church.” 

It’s often said about Christianity, “It’s a relationship, not a religion.”  K, so I see that on your Facebook profile, but then I see your status telling me to go to your religious service.  I understand the religious service is to help with your relationship, but why does it have to be marketed?  And you’re telling people to go to your service.  If they feel that services are part of their relationship, then they should be fine going to the church the regularly go to.  Why have them go to yours?  Is your church better than another church?  And if they don’t go to any church ever, why should they go on Easter or Christmas?  Why on a regular Sunday?  Just because the music is extra special and maybe the pastor is using a video clip or the drama team is doing a sketch...?

That said, it’s a relationship.  So maybe rather than posting “Come to Easter Sunday at MY church,” say, “Let’s do coffee,” to someone specific who you feel may “need” the Easter talk.  Establish a relationship with that person so they can understand Christianity.  It makes more sense to start a relationship with Christ through a relationship with a Christian.  Since Christ was all about love anyhow, may as well love on someone and then see if they wanna come to church.

This isn’t me saying, “Christians suck” or “Jesus people suck.”  This is me saying that marketing religion seems stupid and doesn’t like how Jesus wouldda done it.  I don’t see a point in marketing church through internet means and billboards that say things like, “Church like never before...”  Just doesn’t seem right to spend money on stuff like that (not that Facebook generally costs), and then walk down the street and see 12 homeless people and determine to pray for them.

Point is: religious media kinda bugs me.  It’s not really the point of a relationship with Christ from what I know and I see little to no reason to create religious marketing when a relationship with a person will do way more than a sign or a status or a what have you.

Reputation

Ever have to engage in combat to regain your previously untarnished reputation?  Sometimes a reputation really is important.  Sometimes it’s not so important.  Problem with that is when it is important, it’s typically really important and may have some impact on your entire future.  Your future at a company, your future in a relationship with someone you care about, your future with your family, and many other types of interpersonal relationships.

Every human is responsible for their own actions and reputations. Regardless of what those around them are saying and doing that effects how they are perceived – whether positively or negatively. 

But, alas, we are all human and have an innate need to have others surround us and we strive to live generally social lifestyles.  Whether that means solely within our family or with almost anyone we possibly can kind of depends on the person.  I’m more of the latter; I’ll talk to anyone and I’ll strive for a close relationship with anyone (who seems worthy – and I do have standards).  No matter who we are, though, we are going to attempt to lead social lifestyles – you know, barring mental illness, vows of hermitage and other such things.  We’re not likely to go into work and not at least exchange some sort of pleasantries with one or more people.  It’s normal, it’s natural, and at this point, it’s pretty much expected.

And sometimes, with tarnishing, comes some major combat.  It's seldom easy and very often very challenging.  You have undo the bad that was done just to get to 'normal' levels of reputation.  And then work up to the untarnished.

That, is what I'm challenged with now. 

Good Sex, Bad Sex, and Rape... Again

I realize calling this post, "Good Sex, Bad Sex, and Rape... Again" could be confusing to some.  However, if you have read all my posts or even just most of 'em, you could have seen one that I've called "Good Sex, Bad Sex, and Rape."  The point of the post was to "announce" that I'm going to write a book and that'll be the title.

For many of you, that's probably a tad shocking that I could write such a book or even think that I have anything to say about those things.  For a few of you, you know exactly why I feel like I have the knowledge to speak on such things.  Sadly, I really can speak to all three (well, clearly, it's not sad that I can speak to one of 'em...).


That said, I have begun working on the book - which explains some of the lack of posts on here.  However, I figure it was time to start giving some more information and details about what I'll actually be writing about.

The title may need to change some.  It's not all going to be based on sex.  A lot of it will.  Being that "putting out" tends to be an issue amongst women-folk these days.  However, it's also going to be about understanding how dudes aren't women.  Or at least they aren't supposed to be.  

One Year-iversary

On this day, the day that I have been involved with the same guy for a year, I have decided to blog about this day, the day that I have been involved with David for a year.

If you know me at all, you know that I have not been in a real relationship in quite some time.  I have had a fling or two.  None of which amounted to much.  But this time last year, the most amazing of people all but fell into my lap and apparently decided to stick to me.  This, by no means, is a bad thing.  I wanted to stick to him, too.  So we are very stuck on each other and it is very much a good thing.  Like Sugarland says, “Stuck like glue/You and me, baby, we’re stuck like glue.”

Woody Allen often says things better than anyone else.  This is what he said about being in love:

To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you're getting this down.

And, honestly, that is very much where I have always stood.  I have never been a fan of this “love” thing and have very frequently laughed at the idea of me “falling in love” and staying with the same person for my entire life.  I have always chomped at the bit about the idea of marriage and have very seldom thought the idea of children was a good idea (largely due to the fact that I am quite certain that I would not make a good mother).

Enter David.

Suddenly, like a hurricane and a tornado and an earthquake all rolled into one, he entered my life and shook everything up.  It just was not damaging like those horrible disasters can be.  But nothing is the same. 

Now... to love is not really to suffer.  And I definitely do not mind loving David.  Actually, I do not think I could handle not loving David.

Then, a few months later, around eight or nine of them, we decided to live together.  One of the best decisions of my life.  We have been living together for four months and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Rita Rudner says this about marriage:

I love being married.  It's so great to find one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.

No, David and I are not married.  But it still applies.  I found the one special person who wants to annoy me and I want to annoy for the rest of our lives.  And trust me, annoy each other, we do.  Not in the he’s-gonna-kill-me-one-day sort of way, but in a he-gets-under-my-skin-and-makes-me-love-him-more sort of way.  I count myself lucky that I found someone like that.  I would hate dating some stuffy, boring, never-purposefully-tries-to-annoy-me type of dude.

Point is:  I’m happy.  I’m lucky.  I love David.  He loves me.  We’re happy.  As far as I know, we wouldn’t change anything.  We both sleep better now that we sleep in the same bed.  We seem happier because we are together.  Many of our friends noticed drastic difference in each of us when we started dating.  And when we were in a spot that was not so great, people noticed that.  I have never really thought that people actually “complete” each other, but, weirdly, we kind of do.  It is definitely weird and scary, but the good kind of that.  I like it.

My Life Be Like...

... I'm not even sure where to go from there.  But lately my life be like some crazy storm zone.  It's driving me absolutely insane and is leaving me barely anytime to handle my actual life.  Work is like a haven to me because I can get completely wrapped up in my job and laugh with my coworkers (at least the ones I like...) and just enjoy ... working.  And to me, that's both really sad and really cool.  I do spend a huge amount of time at work, so that does mean I'm doing ok for quite a bit of my life, but I feel like I should be doing at least as well when I step out of the office and into "life."  But not so.

Here's the deal.  A good friend and I almost had a falling out.  That sucks.  There's tons of drama circulating around that and our relationship is such that it really would not be worth a falling out.

Then a friend of mine passed away.  He was only 30.  They called it "natural causes."  But fuck that shit.  He was freaking 30.  So that sucked.  And what makes that even suckier is he just didn't wake up one Sunday morning.  That same Sunday morning, I had gone to my Facebook app on my iPhone and gone to his wall to write, "I hope you're doing well!  Miss you.  We should get together sometime."  Kinda glad I didn't... 

And on top of all that, my grandfather's health hasn't been great.  Which in and of itself, sucks.  But he is getting better.  But his getting better doesn't mean he's driving or able to do this, that and the other.  It means he needs to be super careful about what he does and how he does normal tasks.  Gramma can't drive.  The whole thing just means added stress.  And to be honest, it seems like the "getting better" he's already done may be in reverse a little.  So who knows what's going on there.  But I end up fairly stressed trying to help them a lot.

What makes it all way worse is that while all this is going on, it's easier to make me mad and it's easier for me to take teasing and playing personally.  And if you know my boyfriend... none of that is good.  And so he's constantly having to calm me down and I go to him for advice on some things, but he is so fed up (rightfully) that he doesn't always want to.  And I get that.  I'm just saying that I'm not "right" right now.  I'm in a not great place and he's getting the brunt end of it.  :(


Point - I have a lot going on.  It's keeping me from having time or energy to write and all I should be doing is writing because it's therapeutic.  But by the time I'm home for the night, have made the boy and I dinner and whatnot, I'm not in the mood to sit with a laptop.  I'm in the mood to watch a sitcom that will take over my overly-easily-entertained pea brain.