Binge and Purge...

Well, it's a binge of information for YOU and a purge of years of insanity for me. I want to write about something I never ever write about or speak about for that matter.

My real father.

I suppose the only real way is to go back to the very beginning.

I could hear them arguing again. That's all they did. I was probably 6. My bedroom was right next to theirs so I had to be stealthy. I took all my stuffed animals and most prized possessions and stuffed them into my Garfield sleeping bag. I packed up my parakeet and it's cage. I carefully misspelled every word on my note that told them I was leaving until they could stop yelling. I headed out towards the pasture. I hadn't quite worked out how I could carry a bird cage in one hand, a FULL sleeping bag in the other, and still ride my pony to grandmas house, but apparently the note slipped under the door alerted them to my plans and they stopped fighting for the night.

I never EVER faulted my mom for asking for a divorce. Even at 7 I'd say it was the best day of my life. Not that I understood anything, but I did know the yelling would stop. At 7 you still think everything is your fault and you still trust your daddy even if he's an asshole. After they separated, once he came to the door and I answered. Mom was outside (We lived in the country) and he said he wanted to come in. I innocently didn't know any better. He used me to get in the house and while telling me "daddy loves you" type things, he stole a spare key off the fireplace mantle. He used that key to come back to the house when we were gone and rob the house. My mom had always been a stay at home mom and we had no money. She often went without food so that I could eat. He used me and I thought it was my fault because I let him in the house.

Before visitation had been settled he once came to the house demanding to see his daughter. He had been drinking. I was in the bathtub. He kicked the door in. He pushed my mom down and beat her with a frying pan. He ripped all the phone cords out of the walls. I ran in the spare office, locked the door, and called 911. He ran away before they got there. For YEARS I felt guilt over calling the police on my own father. I thought it was all my fault because he just wanted to see me.

When he got his own apartment in town, he always said my mom tried to keep him from me. She never EVER let me miss a weekend. She actually forced me to go. He had no furniture and 2 yellow striped twin mattresses laid on the ground in 1 bedroom. He would force me to sleep in the room with him, but I didn't get to sleep. He would keep me up all night telling me all the awful things he thought about my mother. What a bitch and whore she was even though she was neither of those things. I will not forgive him for stealing my innocence. For doing everything textbook wrong. He put all of his adult problems on my small shoulders and I carried those for years.

When I was 12 I wrote the courts and was granted permission to make my own decisions regarding visitation. My parents (my mom and step-dad) still made me go so that he could never complain. My dad moved to a town about 30 minutes away. Since my visitation was on the weekends, it really cramped his social life. He would go to the bars downtown and lock me in the car until closing time. It wasn't the best art of town. I've never been so scared. I felt bad for being a burden to him.

(As a side note you should know my father is an alcoholic and also a paint sniffer. Ok, well kinda. He owns a body shop and does custom paint and body work along with specializing in firetrucks, school buses, planes, and diesel trucks. He used to brag that he didn't need to wear a mask. That's called getting high in my book. I'm sure he's just "not quite right" because of that.)

He often antagonized my fears. He openly mocked me for being afraid to fly for the 1st time. After my family was in a debilitating car wreck (My step-dad broke his neck, my mom dislocated her hip and was in a hospital bed for months, and I broke my back) my real father and I went to Carmel for a weekend. I was probably 16? He took the scenic route back and told me it was time to face my fears. He proceeded to cross over the yellow line and drive on the wrong side of the road. Turn after turn on that winding mountain road I screamed and I cried and begged for him to not do this. He called me weak and said I needed to get over it. I finally hit him and yanked the wheel. RIGHT then a diesel truck came around the corner and we skidded off the road, barely avoiding the mountain. He cried like a bitch at our near death experience and I'll never forgive him for that.

Sometimes he would hit me with an opened up wire hanger. I don't even remember why, but he was often physical like that. When I cried he would tickle me. I'm EXTREMELY ticklish and even though it's painful it makes me laugh. Even though I was crying, he would say "See, you're laughing, quit being a baby, everything is fine" To this day, I don't allow people to tickle me. 1/2 way through I always freak out and feel like I'm being manipulated.

During my summers I would stay at his house. He admitted he never wanted a girl. I had to sleep on the floor and get up at the crack of dawn. To wake me up, he would shove me with his foot and them make me fix breakfast for him. Then I would go to work painting and sanding at the body shop. On my breaks he wanted me to go back to the house and bake cookies for him and his workers. It was a weird mix between having to be the boy he always wanted, but needing to know my role as the good little woman. I hated it.

Although he RENTED a 700 square foot apartment that literally used to be a cow barn, when I got my first apartment, he came to my house and white gloved the entire thing. I'll never forget what started out as pride in establishing myself and ended in humiliating disappointment and failure.

When I announced my engagement he DEMANDED to be the one to walk me down the isle. I had asked my (step)DAD. My father made such a stink, my dad stepped aside and said, let him walk you. I told my father, I don't want you to touch me and there will be NO kissing on the cheek. He showed up early, tapped the keg, got wasted, drug me down the isle with such a tight grip on my arm I had bruises on my inner arm and you should see the look on my face in the picture where he's kissing me on the cheek. Fucking drunk asshole.

When I was divorced and disfellowshipped, the BEST thing that ever came from that exile was him not being allowed to talk to me. He would still call. He asked me if I had "fallen to drugs?" (No dad, sorry, my life's quota for drunk paint sniffing losers has already been met) Did I have an STD yet? I don't even know what to say about that one. I'm in the middle of a divorce, I just had to sell my newly built house, my ex kept the dogs and even the bread maker, and none of my friends or family are allowed to speak to me and I AM TRULY at my most vulnerable and alone and you call with your reassuring words that I'm a whore? Fuck you... F.U.C.K. Y.O.U.!

Time and time and time and time again, I told myself Marisa, that is your father. You have to love him. What sort of horrible person are you to not be a part of his life? I subjected myself to insults about my looks, my hair, my weight, my friends, and my home and I took it and I went back for more so that he could never fault me for denying him his right to be my father. There were moments where I thought he had changed. We would have a nice dinner, a lucid (and possibly) sober conversation, and I would immediately default to the THE GLASS IS HALF FULL mentality and think it would be different, he would be better... In between everything I've typed I thought that. I doubted myself. I gave him a million chances. But I can't do it anymore. I have always had trouble setting boundaries. I have always doubted myself. I didn't want anyone to think I was mean or wrong or bad. He loves me so much he says. He misses me he says. He wants me to be a part of his life he says.

After my reinstatement (He remarried about 10 years ago) he and his wife invited me over for dinner. I begrudgingly went and I fell right back into the same trap. He looked old. He looked sad. I experienced INTENSE guilt over my own bitterness and negative feelings towards him. Maybe he's different now..? I shouldn't feel like I do. I wouldn't want someone to feel about me the way I feel about him. I should make more of an effort...

NO.

And you know what's sick? As I re-read this, I keep thinking I shouldn't post this. What if he reads this? His feelings would be so hurt! I'm doubting again as I type this.

NO.

Sorry dad - I can't do it anymore. My life has to be on my terms now. I have to protect myself and my sanity. Do it to me once, shame on you, do it to me twice (or a thousand times) and it's a shame on ME...

I've now written the longest blog ever documenting a LIFETIME of mental, emotional, and physical abuse that cannot and should not be forgotten OR forgiven.

Memories...

So I popped onto Amazon.com today to purchase something and saw the "Daily Deals" button or whatever specials they have. Just guess what was on sale?



I know! Dr Quinn - Medicine Woman. I used to LOVE that show. I used to work taking care of my grandparents back in like 1996... They had tons of health problems and my experiences there I should write about soon. If you've never wrestled your pill poppin, oseteoporosis riddled, emphysema oxygen tube wearing grandma down off a kitchen chair to stop her from trying to find the alcohol so she can make herself a "highball" then you haven't lived, that's for sure! (RIP grandma...)

Anyways, my grandpa couldn't really say much other than "chicken" and "egg" after his heart attack and many salt induced strokes (RIP grandma) but boy did he LOVE watching Dr Quinn - at FULL volume mind you - AS IN... concert quality - hello officer - go take another valium grandma, FULL volume... and it was awesome.

Every day I'd come home from my college classes, and grandpa would yell - Where's the girl? (That's me) I wanna watch the chicken! (That's Dr Quinn) and grandma would yell - "God Dammit LLOYD - Turn that down!" and everything would be right in my world.

I remember it like yesterday and I remember it fondly. :)

Uhhh, Houston - We have a problem...

Well, I don't know. I'm happy... does this look like a problem to YOU?



During times of economic distress, they stop taking your trash out. Apparently this can lead to a very interesting discovery. I'm a junkie. A Mountain Dew and Sugar Free Rockstar loving fool!

Anyone wanna have 15 conversations at once, right now?

Can you see it?

Today I had the realization that I will never be good enough. I am wholly undeserving of the kindnesses given to me. I am beyond touched at others thoughtfulness. And no matter what I do, I don’t think I could truly convey my heartfelt appreciation for the GOOD people I have in my life.

Actually, I am undeserving because I’m not a very good daughter and I’m an even worse friend... I could spend 10 years trying to do something thoughtful and it would never be as nice as what my friends do for me. I let people call me, I don’t call them. All I do is work and I don’t bring much interesting stuff to the table. Maybe a sarcastic story or at least a distraction when I fall down, but in return I’m surrounded by the most stellar group of people I’ve ever met. My friends and family are pricelessly valuable and treasured by me.

The one person I haven’t figured out yet is my mother. I struggle EVERY day with my own contradictions, but now I can 100% tell you, those traits came from her! She’s confusing. I know she loves me, but I’m pretty much positive she hates me as equally with a white hot passion. Read back to Thanksgiving and I posted a picture of a dress I wanted, but they didn’t have my size. I showed up at her house a week ago and she had ordered that dress for me! I think I actually cried when I opened the box! That was SOO thoughtful. SOO nice. We made a lunch date out of it and we went and had it tailored. (I pick it up tomorrow!!!) We get along great at times. Last week we went and had pizza at a fancy new place that’s all organic and environmentally friendly. She buys me little prizes and tries to cater to my every whim. She’ll cook dinner if I’ve had a long day and I call her crying. She’s offered her home to me should I lose my job and need to move back in. She compliments my outfits... and I love SOO MANY things about her. She’s well read, she knows every episode of Judy Judy and Dr Phil. She’s funny and at times thinks I’m funny. We can talk about alternative medicines and NO ONE is a better green thumb. Ask her about any plant and she knows it. She has awesome decorating skills and if you want any help planning a party, she better be the 1st one you call! I love my mother, and despite the price I have paid for the love blood “should” bring unconditionally and for free, I’m so happy to have my family back, it makes me tear up just typing this.

Over Christmas we went to Magic Mountain and their generosity was again so undeserved. They even re-upped my season pass for me. However, in an RV, I don’t know if the 2 of us do so well living in essentially a big giant hallway. Now I can see that my mom does not like ME at all. I just sat there and I saw... I saw it so clearly - I will NEVER be good enough for her. NEVER. All my desperate need for approval stems from right here. She may compliment sometimes, but inside she critiques always. I see... I see it in her eyes. I am a dirty, sloppy, messy, manipulative, disease riddled, rigid, pagan, time wasting, disappointment to her - and that’s all there is to it.

I am 30 years old. Any of you who know me will know I am a fairly clean and organized person. I have a decent amount of common sense and many varied good qualities. Come to my home. My house is clean, even my drawers are organized. I shower and shave and brush my teeth EVERY day. Change my sheets and towels every week. My receipts are filed. I am a functional adult. Yesterday I took apart, cleaned, and put back together my entire refrigerator shelving system - just because... But that’s not good enough. Under her watchful eye, I was copiously reminded of my failings. I sleep in my own filth because I choose bathe in the morning and not before bed. I left my toothbrush on the counter, didn’t rinse a spoon IMMEDIATELY, decided to not wear socks even though it was cold outside. One time I walked through with my shoes on! Also, I basically set up a mobile brothel in the motorhome because I brought along the PG-13 Casino Royale movie to watch and my brother isn’t old enough (16) to watch that type of pornography. I even talk to the dogs wrong.

Once, I almost.. ALMOST.. set my backpack on a part of the bed where it may have touched her sheets. My god woman, I am not the enemy, I AM NOT a Philistine! I take too long to get ready. (No one gave me a time I had to be ready, you know. And last time I checked it was my vacation too... But apparently I almost ruined the trip because my brother wasn’t in line when the park gates opened. He could have gone without me, but he chose to wait. Yet after LITERALLY 10 comments about it {one involving a phone call from a friend in another state!} I was like - tell me how you really feel mom! She doesn’t even ride roller coasters, so I don’t even KNOW what that was about. When I got totally bent about it, then she tries to tell me to lighten up and that she was just kidding... UH NO... you don’t say something 100 times in a row and then get to claim it was a joke... NO. OK, moving on)

I cannot stand being controlled and micromanaged. It grates on me so badly and all my good qualities go flying out the window and I do become a bad person. I look back and I see the error of my ways... I lock up. I snip back. I roll my eyes. I judge. I get mean and dismissive. I see a side of me I don’t like come out.

Really, you see, all of this is about fear and hurt. I try to remind myself that she must be scared inside and that’s where her need to control comes from. That she put herself aside for so many years, now she’s just trying to reclaim some semblance of order for her. And she must have to be extra strong to do it with my dad and brother. They are both fast talking and strong willed, and I’m sure not the neatest or most tidy. In fact, they do need A LOT of direction when it comes to daily life... HOWEVER, that’s not me.

The worst part is... she doesn’t see. She doesn’t see the love and acceptance I have for her. That no matter what she says, NO MATTER WHAT she does, I still love her the same. I still come around to see her. I still want and need her in my life. Even though I know she can’t do that for me in return, I love her. I see the big picture, but I don’t know if she can see it. I see her efforts, her heart, her kindness, but does she see?

If she knows nothing else, hopefully she knows that I love her. I love her even though I disappoint her. I love her even though I hurt her. I love her even though I’m different than her. I love her even though I’m not good enough for her. I love her and NOTHING.. no statement, no injustice, no act of god, no religion, no divorce, no swear word, no amount of time, no announcement, NO NOTHING will change that.

I read this book “The Cult of Perfection” and it said some interesting things. It talked about friends and how “people like me” hold ourselves to this unattainable standard of perfection. We’re ALWAYS trying to be enough... yet, we wouldn’t dare hold anyone else to that same standard. And it SO true. I LOVE the uniqueness of my friends. I love them even more FOR their tragic flaws. Change them? NO WAY... That’s how I know they are true. When you can look at someone and know what their issues are and love them just the same, that’s how you know it’s real. Only thing that I ask is that you do the same for me. Show me that one kindness. That it’s ok to not be perfect and that you still accept me. That’s it’s okay to not be exactly the same. To understand, TO SEE, that everyone does things their own way, for their own reasons... and that’s o.k.

Always with the yen/yang. Always with the questions. Always with the contradiction. See...?

AND THE SAGA CONTINUES...

There is a conflict inside me all the time. Something so good, so bright, so happy that could never be stopped, lest I turn around and see I’m followed closely by something equally as bad and dark and sad! And all with a measure of confidence and doubt added in, nothing is ever easy for me.

I spend A LOT of time trying to really figure out who I am. Not just what the voice in my head says, because she will flip flop on you - trust me, but where my true heart is. I’m always evaluating my intention, my motives, but I never seem to land on solid ground. Every question leads me to another question.

For the holiday’s I decided to bake... (I’ll add my own real pictures later...)

I made these:


and I bought these:


and I spent hundreds of dollars and SO MANY hours baking and wrapping and taking care of every detail in the ingredients and carefully placing every piece of tape and ribbon and I poured my little heart into it (You know, I can only cook with love) I left one for my housecleaner, and I made enough for almost everyone at work... and I passed them out today...

And then I came back to my office and I cried. Cried that everyone would roll their eyes at me for going overboard. Cried that I made THIRTY and was still 10 short. Cried that some might think the motivational book was pushy and presumptuous. Cried that 1 guy is diabetic and I didn’t take the extra time to get him something special. Cried because sometimes people hate me no matter what I do. Cried because I thought my motive was one of warmth and giving and doing something for them that I would want them to do for me, and then realizing my true motive was probably a sad and desperate plea for people to like me - and NO ONE will ever like a sad and desperate girl. UGH...

Confessions of a Klutz

Well, actually - that is the confession. I’m a klutz. A terrible, flailing, bumbling, falling down, spill on myself, CRY ALL THE TIME ABOUT IT - klutz. I’m sure everyone dislikes something about themselves, but mine is so not fixable. ☹

If I had a big nose I could get surgery.
If I was fat I could exercise.
If I was stuck in 80’s perm land, I could get a make over.
Wrinkly people get Botox.
Wine-o’s have Rehab.

But poor sad Marisa...?? NOTHING ☹

I’m the one who turns around from my dresser and walks right into my bed.
I’m the one who takes a drink and immediately dribbles a drop on my new shirt.
I’m the one who bangs her shins on the dishwasher every time the drawer is down.
Tell a funny story and I’m the one who may spit out my drink.
Let me tell the story and I’ll wave my arms around and probably hit you.
I even walk into the occasional door frame.
I twitch and I make funny faces and I snort and I HATE. EVERY. LAST. SECOND. OF. IT.

You want a current story? How about this morning...? Every day I drive about 20 miles to work and I put my make up on. (There’s a certain part leading up to the FWY onramp that is NON moving - so it’s not THAT dangerous) I have on a new all white skirt. I just ask for trouble actually. (WHAT?? I look good in white!) and the mascara wand just flies out of my hand and slow motion bounces across my lap. REALLY? I can’t think of a time this has ever happened - but today, with a white skirt, I have unremovable mascara on it.

I try to be still, calm, slow, and methodical because inside, I JUST KNOW Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn is DYING to come out and say hello. I dream of being the elegant graceful girl that people look at and go WOW. They may say that about me for a second, but then I literally slide like a baseball player slides for home plate right under someone’s table at a Mexican Restaurant or I fall FLAT on my knees in a bar when a friend teasingly pushes my shoulder. Hell, I’m so talented I can fall up AND down a flight of stairs.

Haven’t you read my past stories of when I broke my arm trying to snowboard after some cute boys and fell on a jump? Or when I tried to learn how to spin on my roller blades and broke my elbow? Or when I ran over that lady on my bike, but wound up breaking MY OWN leg instead?

Seriously, I grieve over having to give up the dream of ever being thought of as statuesque or nimble. I talk to my close friends about it and they say “No, Marisa - we love that about you... Your spontaneous and excitable and you tell your stories with such passion and your face shows such expression!” “No no, Marisa, don’t change, that’s who you are, what we know you for!”

OH MY GOD, what? That’s what I’m known for? You think of me and the first thing of endearment that comes to mind is that I’m... THE ABOVE LIST OF TRAGEDY? Is now an appropriate time for sobbing?

I guess when you are in denial of something it sticks with you, so I’m fessing up and hopping this yucky, klutzy, clumsy, goofy side of me will give up the fight and just go away.

GO ON, GET... NO ONE LIKES YOU... NOW SCRAM... and don’t let the door hit you on the wa... well, actually it did just hit you... yep yep, ok that had to hurt, that’s gonna leave a bruise... SIGH - nevermind, come back inside - Let me get the first aid kit...

Feeling the PINCH me this can't be happening...

You know it’s not good when your controller walks into your offices, sits down, and says... “Marisa, at 10 minutes to 12, I need you to come to the conference room...” and then walks out.

O. M. G.

On a regular day this would have sent me into a fit of nauseous tears, but I already know what’s coming.
The boom.
The hammer.
The guillotine.
The PINCH.

Yeah, lets see how peppy people are NOW. haha My post yesterday was well timed, eh? I’m sneaky like that. HA!

Everyone’s wages are being docked across the board - and not a little, A LOT. UGH - punch in the stomach is a little strong, but YOWZA - I feel the pinch. I know they don’t want to, but they HAVE to.

Damn you ECONOMY!

How do you pinch MORE? Christmas doesn’t matter to me. Hair and nails matter don’t matter to me. Brand new designer clothes matter don’t matter to me.

BUT my precious precious Sylvia? (My House Cleaner) WHY ECONOMY?!? WHY?!?!

My TiVo!?!? NO NO, I can’t breath... TiiiiiVooooo!? Say it ain’t so!

My unlimited everything iPhone plan... And all this time I prayed to you Steve Jobs, god of all the nerdy cool people... Sniffle - this tear I shed - not for me - but for YOU... your most loyal customer will have to tithe just a little bit less each month to you now, I’m SO SO SORRY!
☹

I know I know... life’s not so bad - and yes I am SOOO still smiling! Putting down that pettiness, when others have real problems, helps me keep it in perspective.

I’m still sad. Things I’m comfortable and VERY happy with are changing. I still feel the pinch, in fact, this one might leave a bruise... but anyways...

Hi, how are you?

Times is tough... And so's maintaining my composure!

Yeah, things are rough these days. I know it. I feel it. I can hear it in their voice over the phone... I see it in their eyes....

And they don’t even know HALF of what I know. Of what’s coming. But I walk around and I smile. You know why? Because I can and I should! Let me tell you, life gets A LOT worse than it is right now. I know a family who has everything. A Yacht, a plane, RV’s, speed boats, new cars, luxury cars like a Viper and Ford GT... EVERYTHING... Do you think that any of that will cure their 16 year old daughter from cancer? NO. Life is about people, not things. About memories and experiences, not money. About time, not status.

I like to pay attention to my interactions with others.

Have you ever been through the checkout line at the grocery store and left thinking, OH MY GOD, that person hates their life! When people walk by and don’t smile back. When they noticeably exhale and sigh to themselves because they are consumed with negativity? SUCKS HUH? How long do you want to hang around them?

But, what about the person who has a little spark in their eye. Who still takes the time to FEEL, to show concern, to have a positive moment of small talk, maybe share a chuckle? Doesn’t it change EVERYTHING? Don’t you leave feeling good about your experience with them.

I’m talking about friends, workmates, or even the stranger in line in front of you at the airport. Which one would you rather talk to or be around? Which one would you like people to think you are? Life is too short to spend all day sighing and grunting and groaning and complaining. I avoid those people because you can never cheer them up, but they can certainly bring you down... BLECH!

It’s weird because I’m walking around thinking about how much worse things are getting. I’m trying to button down the hatches in my finances because it’s not gonna be pretty. I’m not shopping. I’m not getting my hair and nails done. HarMar doesn’t go to the groomers - he gets a “mom cut”. I dont’ eat out. I’m not doing much. I could REALLY get into a funk over my situation, trust me.

But last night at the grocery store my mind started working and I thought: “ I don’t want to be in a funk, I want to be happy. BUT I can’t be happy if everyone around me is miserable. But, Dr Phil says - “This relationship needs a hero...” and he’s right. I can’t walk around saying YEAH, you be happy so I can be happy. NO, I have to choose to be happy. BUT it’s a lot of work goddamnit! Yeah, but if I have that realization, then I have the responsibility to step up. I can’t sit here complaining about what others do, I have to DO. I want to be the difference, the reason, that people smile. To show little tokens of my appreciations. To treat others how I want to be treated.”

And then I stopped thinking and I just let my pure and honest intention take over... I bought a card with glitter and bumble bees on it and wrote a short note about my sales manager Jeff’s good qualities and gave it to him. Do you know he cried? OMG (I think it was a happy cry... LOL) No 40 year old man who talks with a Brooklyn accent and who spent many a year in prison cries over a glittery bumble bee card... But apparently they do when it’s heartfelt. I took 5 seconds out of my busy schedule and $2 out of my wallet to do something nice and you know what happened? *** I *** WOUND UP FEELING GREAT! A random act of kindness turns out to be almost selfish. I’m not writing that story for Kudos. I only mention it because if you have goodness in your heart and you let it out the universe always rewards you 10 fold. In fact, now I’ve got a million thoughts about what to do next.

How awful to go through life being a good person and never letting anyone else know it! I watched on Oprah last night about secrets to live well into old age. Know what one of them is? GIVE BACK. Be a part of something you believe in.

So, I’m mostly writing this for me... Sort of... I put it out there so you guys can catch me being a moody bitch and remind me of all the stuff I said and shame me back into acting right. ☺

TRULY thankful for the strangest things...

So I re-read my post from the other day and realized it wasn't really a typical post about the things I'm thankful for. And then I realized I'm not thankful for the normal things. (Well, that's not true, I am thankful for EVERYTHING - for every breath - for every smile - for every good intention - every ray of sunlight - for every beautiful sight and sound and smell - for every feeling of good energy - for every still moment, but anyways...)

I can easily get wrapped up in badness, so I keep a gratitude journal. I believe that every day has 1 thing that makes that day worth waking up for. Some days I'm thankful for how happy I am when using my gel pens, for singing in the car when a good song comes on, for the 1st drink of my Mt Dew in the morning, for an unexpected email or text from a friend...

But times are tough for everybody...

What am I thankful for?
I'm thankful that I don't have children and I'm not burdened with the responsibility of another.
I'm thankful that I am not hooked on cigarettes or gambling or booze - whatever is an extra expense to daily living.
I'm thankful that I don't own my home. I've owned homes before, but in this economy and with my job hanging in the balance, I find some sick comfort in being able to pick up and walk away.
I'm thankful for the truly wonderful people that surround me. There are some genuinely good souls in this world and I know I've met most of them. My roommates and my best friend and my pirate and my cousin Sunny and... you know who you are...
I'm thankful for awareness. As contradictory and hypocritical and depressing as it may be... I'm thankful for the light.

I just don't know what the future holds, but I'm thankful for my past. I'm thankful that I know I can survive on my own. That I'm capable. That I know I can start over and be okay. That I'm somewhat smart. That I wasn't hit with the ugly stick. That while I struggle to know what will happen next, that I know it doesn't matter cuz everything will be okay.

I'm thankful for HarMar.
I'm thankful for being healthy and vegetarian and active.
I'm thankful for reuniting with my family.

Now it's 11pm and I'm ready for bed.

Monumental restraint

I'd like to start by saying that I'm a shopper. I've broke many a person at the mall. I met my match today. My mom showed me how it was done AND SHE'S handicapped at the moment. She had a hip replacement less than a year ago Because of some injuries from a car accident. 7 hours at the Fashion Show Mall here in Vegas on black friday no less and I am SPENT! and I didn't buy even ONE thing! That is monumental restraint right there! Although I did lust after this pair of sunglasses: (FYI - $500 is why I didn't buy them...)


I would have bought this dress and it was on sale, but they didn't have my size :(


However, sometimes, if you spend enough time at the mall, you make a discovery so splendid. So wonderful. So fascinating. You must share it with the world! Among other things, I'm also a shoe person. I don't even care if they are womens shoes. I love mens shoes too! But then I came across THIS:

Actually, you may enjoy the many many details here. In case you didn't know, yes, that's velcro! What's your fancy? GOLD? GOLD PLATING? LEOPARD PRINT? JEWELS? THESE HAVE IT ALL!!

I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. The wearer of these shoes is LOADED! And by loaded I mean either or. They are either HEAVILY sedated or high as a fucking kite... OR they have so more money than you will ever understand. When a little old lady comes into our dealership and she's got those gold sequined keds - she's ready to make a deal! And not on a cheap RV! hahahahahaha

Vegas is such a rare city. I can't even count how many times I've been here. Most people refer to it as Sin City and oh how I know it can be, but actually I haven't had a drink since we got here, we don't gamble, and we're all not really interested in the strip clubs... so what does that leave?

EVERYTHING! This place is so grand. There is everything from Picasso to Sharks! Ferrari's to Pirate Ships. Tigers to Volcano's. And EVERYTHING turns into a show. Whether its the marble statues that come to life or the cartoon on the bigscreen over the escalators that talks to you. Shoot, there was some crazy song and dance at the mall. This giant Christmas Tree raised up into the air and santa and all his slight slutty helpers came tumbling and singing out from underneath it! LOL

Here's my brother and I today :)


OHHH, and don't forget the food!!! The glorious food! I pretty much lost my mind yesterday. And I've eaten here many times, but the Buffet at the Treasure Island is SO GOOD! I'd like to start by telling you, I'm not a dessert person. Blasphemy, yes I know, but give me some chips or crackers or french fries. I'm a salty savory carb girl hands down. If you know me, you know this. HOWEVER, notice I was SO moved, I actually took multiple pictures with my dessert!


They had a fucking cotton candy machine!!!! Yeah... that's right, you read correctly. It was phenomenal!



Well, that's my post. Hope your weekend is going great! Talk to ya soon!

Life is good

So, this is probably going to bore the few that read this, but I write for me not you, so it's ok.

It's thanksgiving day. I'm in my parents rv and we're cruising into vegas as I type this. I'm gonna do the typical 'I'm thankful' post cuz life really can be good :)

I have ALWAYS loved RV's. My parents had one all my life and we've travelled the country, stopping at neat places we came across, resting when needed, eating home cooked food, using our own bathroom. Harmar is just crusing next to me on the couch. It is truly a lifestyle I believe in. Hands down I will own an rv someday.

For work I travel a lot. Funny part is we sell the rv's- we don't use them. So I've been to every airport and hotel and rental car place in America. The lines the delays the smoke smell and the expense- it's NOT even close to recommended!

I'm the type of person who needs to LIVE what I do though, so it makes sense. It often means I'm extreme, but I want to be excited and happy and fully enveloped by whatever I'm doing. I'm passionate about food and clothes and computers (stop and recognize I'm posting this from my iPhone which is THE coolest thing ever!) and YES everything RV related. Who wouldn't love sipping on a cocktail, surfing the web, sitting next to ur dog, and cruising towards vegas? And if u stop to appreciate it, get excited about it (whatever 'it' might be) then u can say u LIVED it, u felt it, u experienced it!

We stopped at stateline and went to the outlets. I got some cute shoes. Closed toed flats !GASP! That's never happened before- I'm slightly addicted to open toed high heels. My friend John seems to think I have aspirations of becoming a stripper. Ha! Hardly.

Anyways, as a side note, we were going to stop in Bakersfield last night but it seems they've closed every rest stop in California for repairs. Yeah, that's a good idea on the busiest travel day of the year. And u know cal trans works on thanksgiving day. Uh NOT- LAME! My poor dad wound up driving until 4am to find a Valero gas station we could sleep in.

We also had a 30 minute taco bell experience which left me giggling. I just try not to get too worked up and was THANKFUL I wasn't with one of my many friends who would have blown a gasket. Apparently, I stereotyped the Spanish speaking fellow at the taco bell counter to understand what a taco was. I also assumed that this particular item might be a popular enough seller that it would be easily found on his register. See what happens when u stereotype others and make assumptions? Also, I'm a pretty wordy person but I underestimated the complicated differences between the crunchy taco and the hard taco. I did not know taco bell only serves hard tacos or soft tacos. Ordering a crunchy taco (which is how it is on the menu board btw) is a special order that requires manager approval. Good times right there.

Anyways, we're just getting settled at the rv resort so I'm gonna go. Have a great thanksgiving!

Sent from my iPhone

You can't deny it...

If you work in the automotive industry - especially with salesmen, then this has to be the funniest set of commercials ever produced. HA HA!



Although I think we really do care about our customers, I can say that stereotypes are usually based on overwhelming truth - and I've seen it all! Simply hilarious!

Am I wrong?

I'm a single person. I cook every night for myself. Tonight, I didn't cook. I was tired and I copped out and I made nachos.

I made these for me and me only. I do have roommates however and they seem to think it is the funniest/strangest thing ever that I would just eat these straight off the tray.

Is this that strange? It's not like it's going to reheat. It's not like I'm sharing it and should only take my portion. It's not like I want to go through the pomp and circumstance of putting it on a plate just to impress myself or the dog. That would just make it 1 more dish I'd have to wash.

Someone tell me what you think about that? Am I just a total philistine for eating this straight off the cookie sheet? Or would you do the same thing?

THE CUTEST THING EVER

That's the whole post... Look at him. This is HarMar, my precious little man. AND only god can testify to how much he H.A.T.E.S. wearing his bumble bee costume. Sometime I'll dress him up in his lobster costume and take a picture for you.

HarMar wearing a costume is INSTANT paralysis. He won't move for hours if you leave it on him. I must be evil because it makes me laugh so hard I dress him up for my own sick pleasure.

No mans land...

Most people know a woman's obsession with her handbag. I am all woman. While childless, let me introduce you to my first born. I have NO problem fighting you TO.THE.DEATH for her.

The contents of a woman's purse are usually pretty private, but I think it's time we get personal :)

This is my baby, Burberry.


Since it's slightly overflowing, you can see (from left to right)

1) My Furla sunglasses. COOL!
2) My 2nd born, my iPhone which is always with me
3) My handy canvas bag. I got these cute portable ones at Sur la Table and I love it!



I don't know where to start with the rest of this junk, but I now know why my bag s so heavy.

1) Although I've never used it, I have my passport.
2) Ok, being a woman, I have a handy compartment for the emergency tampon and panty liner... moving on...
3) Comb, compact, random key that I don't know what it goes to, floss, and of course a portable USB drive in keeping with my Nerd Contract.
4) a STACK of credit cards, gift cards, and discount/club cards (See the horror below)
5) Gum and cute box of mints
6) Quick quiz, how many things of lipstick, lip gloss, and chap stick can you count? I count 9 (In case you didn't know, there are 3 more lip glosses inside the black Chanel box)
7) My work name badge, a handy pen, a hair band, my iPhone headphones, my work keys, and spare safety pins
8) Can you find my trusty iPhone bluetooth?
9) My matching Burberry wallet (Somehow this makes me extra proud) and my checkbook with works mission statement on a business card so I can see it.

SO, now are we up close and personal or what?

Know your role...

Heard some EXTREMELY OFFENSIVE interesting things the other day about “Knowing My Role”... I think it just takes some major nerve to SAY that. I’m very well aware that this whole society works on knowing your role. Every job has a boss. Every societal group has a leader. Every family has a head. Every clique has a pecking order. There has to be a defined order to everything, an understanding. But there is a really angry feminist inside of me that psycho BRISTLES at the thought of being told how to be, what to be, what I can and can’t do. There was even one point where he said “WIthout a doubt there are women out there who could probably do a better job, be more efficient, organized, and capable than a man, BUT THAT’S NOT YOUR ROLE...”

Oh no you didn’t just say that!

Actually, I was unable to control my face, but it was probably due to the massive whole body seizure I was having after hearing those words. Yep yep, I’m virtual blogging this from the grave. Ha! For all the things that I have done wrong (and there’s some doozies, let me tell ya) know what my most egregious sin is? “I have headship issues” As I so eloquently explained to a friend of mine, how is it that I could probably suck every dick in America, but it’s worse for me to not listen when a man tells me to do something? LOL I was informed sucking every dick in America is probably a bad thing no matter who you are and a very bold statement. Ha Ha - I know, but I was just rambling. Sometimes I exaggerate to get my point across, ok?

Seriously though, I just want to be reasonable... Actually admitting that a women could do a better job at something but won’t get the opportunity because she lacks the necessary (Between the legs) accoutrements is so mind boggling. Sexism is offensive people. It’s just as bad as racism or homophobia. IE: NOT GOOD.

I’m such a contradiction though. I’m really not a feminist. I love to cook. I love cleaning. I love being a woman. I want to be held. Talked to in a (not condescending or patronizing) soft voice. I want to be taken care of. Treated tenderly. My dream is to find a man who will TAKE all this man responsibility from me so that I CAN truly fulfill my womanly roll. But it doesn’t work for me if I don’t trust you. If I don’t respect you. I have these trust issues, which manifest into control issues... and I pretty much need to know someone is more capable and more strong willed than I am. (Please note, breaking me emotionally until I just give up is not what I’m talking about here - that can be done too, but really not what I’m going for!) To really pry it away from me so that I CAN just melt down, open up, and be this ethereal female creature I want to be. Well, I’m not holding my breath about it. HA!

I’m complicated. I don’t make any sense. I know this now. It’s hard for people to figure me out and my actions give people varying ideas of who I am and what I’m about. Some have said they see my hesitation and they wonder what I’m on the fence about. Hell, even I don’t know sometimes. I live my life on the fence. I’m just always waiting for something to “feel right” and then I fall to one side or the other. I follow my soul.

Read a wonderful quote from the Tao that says “The master observes the world, but trusts his own inner vision”... I’m no master, but I see a lot going on around me - a lot which I can get into my head about and debate which way I should go, but ultimately I have to just look inside and say “does it feel right?” and that’s usually what I do - unless of course alcohol is involved. But we’re just gonna stop there. ahahhaaha

Have a good one everybody.

I think I have reverse anorexia...

Controversial and shocking, I know!

Hang in here with me for this one, will ya? I actually spent like an hour trying to prepare for this blog with pictures and everything, but then I couldn't find the one photo I saw on TV that started this whole train of thought, but I'm going to ramble on anyways.

I'm 30 years old. I'm 5'7" tall. I weigh around 130 lbs. I currently wear a size 8, but I do have some size 10's in my drawer. I would not consider myself fat. I look in the mirror every day and turn around and inspect and I think I'm doing alright.

Then I get to the store and I start trying on clothes and I panic. REALLY? I'm a size 17? OH WAIT, Marisa stumbled into the Juniors section. Let me find my way to MISSES... Really? When I buy underwear I'm a LARGE? Really? Cuz I'm looking at people around town and I'm thinking a lot of them are WAAAY bigger than me. I see a lot of BIG girls cramming their fat asses into a size 10. I want to know where the average woman buys her panties? If the average size for a women is now 14, how is it that I wear a LARGE anything? I know my butt is on the big size, but geez!

Oprah had a show recently about past Biggest Loser contestants. This one lady came out claiming she was a size 10 and she looked 30 lbs heavier than me! (TO ME)

Seriously, I'm sure I have reverse anorexia. You know how anorexics look in the mirror when they only weigh 68 lbs but they think they are all fat? I'm really fearing that all 400lbs of me looks in the mirror and sees a model. ha ha ha

I must just not be good at math because some numbers aren't adding up here.

I have the makings of a fat girl!

Well, no one really has anything to talk about right now, so I'm gonna write a lame post too.

I'm going to admit something to you that will gross out a lot of you. I really like mayonnaise. Like really like it! I put mayo on my broccoli. I totally load up an inch thick on sandwiches, potato salad, etc.

In fact, friends of my family own the Ak-mak cracker place. At the factory, the bread starts out in big sheets like lavash bread. And instead of baking it into a cracker, if you put it in a plastic bag and spray it with water, it's the most delicious soft yummy bread ever. My friend and I would go to the factory, pick up a big bag of the bread, stop at Savemart and buy a jar of mayo and we'd sit there and just dip the bread in the mayo and eat the whole thing. (Will you ever look at me the same?)

I read that Jennifer Aniston used to eat mayo sandwiches. I totally related! My mom totally banned me from mayo for like a year. But I'm an adult now and I just ate broccoli for dinner and HELL YEAH I put mayo on it. YUM!! Do I have the makings of a fat girl, or what?

I just found out my favorite restaurant closed down. I'm so sad about it! Flamenco Tapas of Spain was totally awesome! I'm hoping I can get the recipe for their Garbanzo beans though. I won't live without that!

I totally had something else to write about and then Biggest Loser came on and here I am writing about eating mayonnaise straight from the jar and I sorta lost focus. OH NO!

Okay, funny OCD story. I'm pretty sure there is either a test or a case study or just a plain conspiracy going on in my house. We have a strange sort of bermuda triangle/house of mirrors thing going on in our hallway. It sort of Y's off and there are 7 doors there. A bathroom, 3 bedrooms, 2 closet doors, and 1 to the garage. It's not that I have a thing about doors being closed, but I think closet doors should be shut. EVERY time I go down the hallway 1 or both are cracked. It makes me INSANE. I HAVE to close them. I could shut the doors, walk into my bedroom, go to the kitchen, and head back towards my bedroom and the are cracked again. I'm pretty sure my roomies are running out of their rooms, cracking the door, and hiding again. Do they notice that the door is cracked? Both those closets are not mine and I never open them. So, when they open the door, how do they not shut it all the way? Do they notice that I always walk by and shut the doors? Random, I know, but I'm pretty sure this is comical.

Today was like a crazy busy day at work. I had FOUR meetings and the internet was down. I didn't even leave until after 7 and now I've barely eaten and sat down and it's 9pm. UGH!

Well, Har Mar is frantically trying to talk to me right now. He's pawing at my face, jumping in my lap and onto my laptop and being quite dramatic. I think he wants some food so I'm gonna go feed him. Have a good one my friends.

Slow Ride...

Well, I tried to convince my brother last night that the song Slow Ride by Foghat was a good song. I don’t think he got it AT ALL! He’s so rigid! I played every type of song known to man and not one made him bob his head or even crack a smile. And I rocked out, danced, laughed... NOTHING! At one point, I turned around and he had his iPod earphones in!! THE NERVE!

Overall though, I had a good time HA HA so that’s all that matters I guess!

I was SO locked into what I thought good music was at that age, I was not open to any advice. But with over 4,000 songs on my iPod now I think I made up for the year I only listened to Michael Jackson, En Vogue, and Mariah Carey. LOL That was a LONG time ago!

I just really love music. I love all the feelings it can give you. I love the memories. Don’t you just hear a song and suddenly your mind takes you on the most magical journey to a setting, the people, the smells, the back drop to what you were doing last time you heard that?

It was “Sweetest Perfection” by Depeche Mode. Harmony and I were in the front seat of her car. We had Mt Dew slushies from the Texaco on Shaw/Armstrong. And we were singing. Singing to our slushies. (Listen to the lyrics of that song. We really loved Mt Dew) Sun was out, windows down, a truly PERFECT DAY!

It was “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine. I was 18, home alone for a week at my parents house. I was standing at my vanity doing my hair, music as loud as it could go. Isaacs green duffle bag of CD’s was on the ground. Circle Jerks, Janes Addiction, Sonic Youth, and Music up as loud as it would go...
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
F*** you, I won't do what you tell me!
Motherf***er!
Uggh!
(Ok, so I had some pent up aggression... but I remember it like yesterday!)

It was “Stone the Crow” by Down. San Francisco, me and Richie. Last song of the night. I had gone into the pit alone but that’s OUR SONG and Bam! out of nowhere he appeared beside me. The crowd, the excitement, the crescendo, the crushing surge of energy from side to side as people scream and kick and crawl over top.

It was “Dunkie Butt” by 12 Gauge. On a ranch in Wildwood, Georgia. 76 other people from 18 - 80 in the room that I’ve never met before and a $100,000 sound system and we’d all drank WAAY too much of that Sweet Tea. Drum sticks in hand with only a few rules. You have to be happy, you have to dance, and you can hit ANYTHING except each other. No sleep in 3 days and we were up on the tables dancing, going crazy... I still have those broken drum sticks. LOL

Name any song, I probably have a story to go along with it. ☺ Ok that’s my blog for the day. Hope you don’t think it’s too lame.

She got 9 minutes and she wasted it...

OMG - I would say I feel like I’m running around like a chicken w/ my head cut off today, but somehow that just is 1 more thing I’d need to add to my to-do list.

#16 - Have head reattached
(And yes, I have 15 other things on my list...)

None of which I’ve even remotely got to work on today since 4 other VERY pressing things came up that I had to take care of 1st. I’m not having much fun, I can tell you that.

I leave the house when it’s dark, I get home when it’s dark. I miss working from home. MY phone never rang. I was left to my own devices all day. I’m fine working. I know what to do. It’s not that I wasn’t working. But here, people see you, and call you, and need you, and they need more, and they need it right now, and it’s so important, and you can’t make mistakes. And my job has morphed into dealing with customers and filling out paperwork for state laws.

It used to just be computer stuff. You make a mistake programming, no big deal... Now it’s taxes and peoples lives. UGH.



I’m just juggling juggling juggling. I’m exhausted. So I started out this morning with an energy drink. Then I had a Mt Dew. I think I’m gonna have an apple and then another Mt Dew.

Ooops, I gotta go. Someones calling. No lunch for Marisa today. She got 9 minutes and she wasted it typing a blog.

Yeah...

It’s cold. I hate the cold. I’m cold during the summer so you can imagine how cold I am right now. I’m always cold. I wasn’t meant to be climatically comfortable. It’s the universe giving me the middle finger is what it is. I need to bring a blanket with me to work. I’m an electric blanket junkie. Sigh.

Woke up again last night at 2:20am. UGH UGH UGH! Then HarMar jumps off the bed at 4:15am. That means act quick or he’s going to have a problem... on the carpet... in your room... and you’ll be a lot more awake cleaning that up than just letting him out. So I jumped up and threw the door open and he raced outside. He ALWAYS sleeps through the night, so he must have been feeling sick ☹ However, this did not spare me from basically being awake every 2 hours at 2am 4am and 6am. LAME!

You know, when I was in like 8th grade, I broke my leg. We were at Lake Almanor on the 1st day of vacation riding our bikes through the campground when we saw our friends RV arrive. We were racing back to camp to greet them and through a very unfortunate set of fast paced events I “Sort Of” ran over a lady. You know, really ramped right up the back of her leg and left tire tracks all over her!! As I attempted to exit my bike and put my left leg down it landed funny and on a hill and then i lost my balance and the bike and I fell over but my foot stayed in the same place. POP! broken.... leg.... My brother and sister raced back, got my parents, who brought the RV and we headed off to the hospital. The fracture sort of looked like someone traced an outline around a lollipop. NOT GOOD. This required a special cast clear up to high thigh even though the fracture was just above the ankle.

And since it was day 1 of vacation, you know we didn’t go home. They laid me up in a lounge chair and I got to watch everyone play, bike ride, have water gun fights, water ski, jet ski... I had to sleep in the RV while a gaggle of kids got to stay up all night in “tent city”... Mom was nice enough to let me have the window open so I could at least hear. To this day, almost SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER... There was a joke about chicken nuggets that I will never forgive myself for missing. They laughed until they cried. I just cried.

8 weeks I was immobile. Cast up to my thigh and they put it on so my knee was slightly bent and my foot pointed in just a little. Basically to ensure I wouldn’t be walking on it. Finally the cast came off. And FUCK if I could not for the life of me remember how to walk. I used to sit and watch people walk by and think, how do they do that?! Heel.. toe... bend knee... lift... repeat... It just didn’t come natural! OMG! Weeks I struggled with this. It was embarrassing and mind boggling. Who forgets how to fucking walk? It’s not like I had a stroke or a brain injury. I think really I just put too much thought into it. And my mom gave me a slight complex because she said I was walking pigeon toed. She was right, but it was one more thing to concentrate on that when I walked my feet pointed straight ahead so I didn’t look retarded. And I just kept thinking, when is this not going to be an issue anymore? When will things just be normal again? Will they ever be normal again? OMG...

So where am I going with all this? Clearly one day, I just started walking! Everything came together. I look normal, walk normal, no pigeon toes - NORMAL. But I had to let it all go first. I almost crippled myself literally with over-thinking and trying so hard to get it right and by observing and calculating what everyone else was doing or thinking about what I was doing...

And I think that’s what my life is right now. I’m all wrapped up in nothingness in my head even though everything is normal and all systems are go. And really it should just be natural. Life should just happen. I’m thinking and calculating and waiting on baited breath for things to just be normal again. What happened? Will things ever just be normal? Will I ever not feel like something is wrong all the time? Even though nothing is wrong, I’m not getting it right. I’m watching everyone else and they seem to be getting it right. Maybe if I do exactly what they do it will fix things. Nope, nope... that didn’t work. Think Marisa... Think...

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

STOP! Make it stop. Please - just stop. I’m ok... I’m doing it to myself... I have at least THAT MUCH awareness. I need more time at home, more time alone, more time to read, walk, be with nature - get back to basics and really let it all go.

Nothing to see here, move along.

There’s a song I’ve been listening to lately and the opening words are:

“Call me romantic
But I'm frantically fucked up”

I don’t know why that tickles me so. I think I so am totally frantically fucked up that it just cracks me up.

Anyways, i don’t know if this is vain or not, but I do like to re-read my blogs. I use this thing called “MacJournal” that I write in and then it posts online for me. I don’t post everything. I just re-read the 5 that I didn’t post. WHEW. Those are heavy. I just get really into how well I’ve captured a moment of time in my life. It must just be me, but it’s real, ya know?

Anyways, not too much going on. Just another day. Another day at work. Another day I’m trying to rush through so I can get to tomorrow and see if I feel better.

Went to my parents last night. I made potato soup and we bonded over TV like a true family should. My brother delighted in the new Charmin commercial that came out and used the TiVo against me to force me to rewatch it until I basically said, stop it now or I WILL WRESTLE you to the ground, take the remote from you, and then beat you with it. He handed it over willingly. My mom yelled at the screen because Biggest Loser was on and she got REALLY into it. Heba and Vicki are taboo words in the house this week. LOL My dad ate a double serving of soup and bread (even though he shouldn’t) and then an entire plain head of romaine lettuce to counteract the bread. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that. And I’M THE VEGETARIAN!

So the soup was delicious but pretty heavy and I haven’t been eating much so it was rough on me and today my stomach hurts. I weighed myself this morning. I’ve lost 10 lbs in the last 30 days. It’s annoying because none of my pants fit anymore, but I can’t really afford to go out and buy new ones.
☹ Booo!

I haven’t really been sleeping well either and it’s making me crazy. Never in my life have I had a problem sleeping. NEVER. Like taking more than 3 minutes to fall asleep is total insomnia to me. Waking up before noon is like waking up at 4 am! I pride myself on being pretty much comatose from the time my head hits the pillow until my alarm goes off for the 5th time. Now I’ve been waking up at like 2am and 5am. This morning I work up around 3:30 just DRENCHED in sweat. UGH. It’s cold out too... so why was I sweaty? I don’t know what my dreams were, but it was yuck.

OK, You’re all caught up with me now. Nothing to see here, move along...

PS - to those of you who’ve commented on my blog. Thanks. I need to work on that. I read several blogs EVERY day but I never comment. It’s something I just gotta start doing.

I hate to admit it...

...But at some point in this blog I will.

Had to do some uncomfortable stuff last night with my family. My brother is just not cutting the mustard when it comes to school.

It sucks to be older and have “understanding”... I’m not a parent, but I do find myself saying those parent things (My brother is 15 years younger than me. I was 18 and out of the house so fast, my mom basically raised 2 only children) and it makes me sick to my stomach.

You know, you just want the best for someone. People are handed some bad hands, but not him. He is very smart, charismatic, good looking, and overall a GOOD BOY. Plus, my parents have given him everything. A cell phone, games, big screen TV’s, freedom to leave the house and go with friends, everything. And through my blinding jealousy, I can see he’s being given every opportunity in the world to go and do and be anything he wants to. But he doesn’t get it.

But sometimes when everything is handed to you, you never have that burning desire inside of you to WORK, to EARN, to BE more. You don’t have anything to prove.

Thats why my brother and I are different. I’m the opposite of that. I worked... I wanted... I worried... I wanted to rub in everyone’s face that I was good enough. So even on foggy day schedule, I went to school on time. I took advanced classes. I didn’t need to study, but I did anyways. I died inside bringing home a B... Did you read my blog before last? I’m 30 and still trying to prove something. Fuck, I don’t know.

So yeah... I really want to be the cool sister, ya know? I want to be the person to him that I prayed for every night when I was his age. The friend, the confidant, the savior... (WOW, Ok, I’ve really given myself a god complex here...) I think somewhere in all this though, I blurred the lines. And I made this all about me. I was fighting for me. And he’s not me. I didn’t have a cell phone, or cable TV, or freedom. We lived in the country 5 miles from anyone. What we had was basically a farm. Marisa was out back cutting firewood, and pruning trees, and digging fence post holes, and pulling weeds, and pouring cement, and laying tile, and taking down wallpaper, and painting. She was 15, just recovering from a broken leg and arm, going to school full time, getting straight A’s with a baby (my brother) on her hip. She was cleaning the house and changing diapers and hauling bricks and moving furniture (mom liked to rearrange her full wall length oak china cabinets and entertainment centers weekly :| ) and WORKING. Always working. We had a tractor. I had a tool belt and a pick ax. We had our own cement mixer. This was 2 acres of pavement, pasture, and trees. Over 200 trees that mom wanted raked every day. I mean WORK WORK!

(Please note: Right now I’m not complaining. Those things made me who I am and I’m thankful for that. I was bitter before, but I realize those things made me strong. They made me driven. They made me CAPABLE of anything I put my mind to.)(I would also like to clarify I had a good childhood. I was safe. My parents loved me (A bit too strictly, but...) And we had a good life. We played outside. I had a pony. We had a houseboat and speedboat and motorhome. We travelled and were well taken care of... SO no complaining.)

Moments like this just really remind me why I don’t want kids. I can’t handle it. It’s so serious. It’s their life, their future. And my heart melted when that baby boy and I went outside to talk without mom and dad and he hugged me and he cried. OMG... I just want him to succeed. To be better than me. To take all the opportunities that he has (that I didn’t) and use the system to his advantage!!

But there is a plea here for REALITY. You have to get good grades. You have to work hard. You have to earn trust and respect.

Fascinating

Well, I don't normally write about politics... and I've been reading feverishly about things on the internet these last few weeks, but I have to tell you, yesterday I watched with utter fascination as Barack was elected. I'm not a political person or even a registered voter, but I will now admit I shed a few tears. I don't know if I was just in the crying mood, or if I was so excited about watching history happen, or if I was just overcome with everyone elses emotion at such a monumental event, but yeah, anyways... it happened.

I think it's extra odd for me to be moved by something that, in my world, is no big friggin deal. I'm sure I don't represent the majority of anything, but so what if he's black? My dad is black. My uncles and my cousins and my brother is black. So what? Look at my hodgepodge family...



I guess I just don't see color. Anyways... I just found it really interesting to think about where we've come from. I mean, my dad has talked about being segregated and not being allowed into white movie theaters or just the trials of making the same wages as the other guys at his first job.

SO, what do you think? Is it a tragedy that a lot of my generation doesn't really realize the road that was paved for us? I can say the same about my gender. Women weren't able to vote. They didn't make equal wages. My mom had to wear a dress to school. Those things NEVER cross my mind because they just don't make sense to me. I can't imagine anything different than being able to be independent and do whatever I want to. OR, do you think it is a testament to how good of a job they did that it's just a non issue now.

Did I make any sense? I find this to be a VERY compelling topic. But it's seeming like a lot of work to type it all out right now. LOL

Anyways - I just wanted to write a quick blip in my first ever political blog!!

Well...

The summertime is pretty much over. It’s rainy and overcast today, but with Santa Cruz in my blood, I LOVE IT!

Surprisingly I still have a job and a warm cozy bed with a roof over my head so I can’t complain right? I think I may even have a couple friends LOL

I’ve taken on more work than I ever thought possible, I mean seriously, my job duties typed as 1 liners takes up 2 pages now. And now I know there is a deep sickness inside me because... between you and me... secretly, I like it. I like that they need me. I like the challenge. I like fighting for something I believe in. I want to be thought of as doing something that no one else could do - EVERYTHING! In all honesty, that is unhealthy. But who are you to judge? I have to kids, no significant other, and the only thing waiting for me at home is a TiVo’d episode of Judge Judy, so what do you care that I’ve made this my life, my family, my home? It sucks to take it so personally when business isn’t good, but that’s like extra motivation for me to dig in deeper. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I didn’t give it everything I got. I think I’d look back and say - if I only I had worked harder, got up earlier, read more, was more creative.

The unfortunate part is that no reasonable person can do this much. I can’t please anyone either. Either people hate me because I do the impossible (jealousy is such a bitch) or I’m juggling so much that I don’t get anything done and then they say I’m dumb for trying. UGH. I hate that. I don’t know. I’ve always put my entire life on the line in the chance that someone would say “Good Job Marisa”. It’s never about money. It’s not even about being the center of attention. I know the ulcers I grow inside so it’s not about admiration. I guess it’s about value. I just want people to say “Good Job”. I want that nod of approval. The WOW... the THANK YOU. I wonder if people see that? I don’t know. I think some people think I’m snobby and condescending. No one like miss perfect Holly Homemaker who worked all day and still shows up to the party with a 10 course meal and all they brought was some KFC. But it’s such a double edged sword. I want that approval and surely me showing up with something half ass isn’t good enough, so I go overboard trying to say “Hey Hey, I tried REALLY REALLY HARD, will you like me now? Think I’m good enough now?” but then the opposite happens... and they dislike me because I tried too hard. I don’t know. It’s so lame.

I just signed on to throw our annual company party. In years past when money flowed like water we would spend tens of thousands of dollars on fancy soiree (I have to admit I took 10 minutes to google how to spell that word.. apparently NO ONE knows) at a country club. Well last year I was given the task of throwing that same party for 75 people for $3,000 not at the country club. Yup, I did it with 1 other girl and it was like Jesus walking on fucking water. Of course, they complained that there wasn’t enough meat (god forbid the vegetarian made some NON meat delicacies) and that the drive was too far and that it was only appetizers. (Yeah, chicken skewers and bruschetta and mini roasted red potatoes with artichoke and cheese and crackers and stuffed mushrooms and fruit and veggies and brie w/ apricot jam in a puff pastry and a chocolate fountain and beer and homemade sangria is a real bummer... INGRATES!) Decorations... Music... I even had a photo station last year. I went to Joannes and draped fabric and ornaments and and set up my camera on a tri-pod, it was SO cute. I also made gift baskets for each of our departments employees of the year (Personalized to their likes, of course)

Well, this year I’ve been give the same task, less my other friend/helper, here at the dealership with a full meal for $1,000. Think I can do it? Cook it all by myself for 100 people? Yeah, besides doing what I have calculated to be 3 FULL TIME jobs (5 titles though, but not all are FULL TIME) I just took on a catering position. HA! Seriously, I need help. I’m sick.

AND GETTING EXCITED! WOO HOO! PARTY!! COOKING!! DECORATING!! SHOPPING!! I’m in crazy lady heaven ☺

S.O.A.P.A.!

Symptoms of a Panic Attack

* raging heartbeat
* difficulty breathing, feeling as though you can't get enough air
* terror that is almost paralyzing
* nervous, shaking, stress
* heart palpitation, feeling of dread
* dizziness, lightheadedness or nausea
* trembling, sweating, shaking
* choking, chest pains, distress
* fear, fright, afraid, anxious
* hot flashes, or sudden chills
* tingling in fingers or toes ('pins and needles')
* fearful that you're going to go crazy or are about to die

Ha Ha Ha

I thought that was what they called “Being Awake”...

I’ve had 10 out of those 12 every day for the last 3 weeks.
Today will be no better.
In fact, I’m pretty sure today will be much worse. Don’t ask.

I gotta quit typing though, the fingers on my left hand are tingling...

Censored Title...

Actually I wanted to just write another personal truth. I really do like music. And as cliche and obvious as it is, I’m all about leaving obvious clues for people as to where I am in life. I don’t think anyone ever picks up on all those clues, lol, but I do it either way.

One thing I do is put music that tells my current story on my MySpace. Yeah, I know - LAME - I know. (Please ignore that time I put the new song Swing by Savage on there... I’m not really considering being a stripper whore or a rappers girlfriend... that one was just catchy...)

So, read the lyrics to these songs and see if you can figure out where I am in life. I fear they paint a tragic story. LOL I’m gonna be ok, I swear, but these songs I’m “feeling”... (Hey that’s better than being dead inside, right?)

I’ll start you off with one. This is my new fav song...
1) Car Crash - Courtney Love

There's a ghost on the highway,
And I want to run it down,
There's a phantom in my bed,
And I'm all alone now.
I've seen every hotel,
I've seen every hell,
There's nothing I haven't done,
There's no one I haven't had.

Would you be there when the lights,
When the lights get shot right out?
Would you be there when the roof,
When the roof comes crumbling down?

And I know myself too well,
And the Devil speaks to me,
And he's got me pinned down now,
Telling me I'm so empty.
Oh, just say you're sorry now,
And you'll never do it again,
Take the edge right off and keep it,
Coz you'll never be high again.

Would you be there when the lights,
When the lights get shot right out?
Would you be there when the roof,
When the roof comes crashing down?

Would you be there when the devil,
When the devil comes for me?
Would you be there when the lights,
Go black and empty?

And I live in a box,
And I die in this hole.
And you hold the keys,
To this zip.
And I don't wanna go,
But I can't seem to come,
And it's not up to me,
It's up to you.

And at all tomorrows parties,
I will be there, not at one,
And when you all start to miss me,
Oh, just pass me the gun.
And it's Valentine's again,
And there's nothing here for me.

Would you be there when the lights,
When the lights come crashing down?
Would you be there when the roof,
When the roof comes crumbling down?

Would you be there when the Devil,
Takes me to the underground?
Would you be there when the night,
Is night all year around?

Would you be there in the ice?
In the frost and cold and freeze?
Would you be there any time?
When I'm here, I'm on my knees?

2) Hiding - Beth Hart
3) Kill My Soul - Catherine Wheel
4) Lie To Me - Depeche Mode
5) Danger - Keep Away - Slipknot

Couldn’t resist - this one is just too good. Here’s another:
6) The Same Old Song - Nina Personn (A Camp)

Here's my prayer
I'm getting nowhere
I'm stepping up the stairs
But falling behind, oh
I'm a one-man show
That nobody knows
My body sure knows
I'm wondering why, oh

I can't go on singing this song
That the angels will not hear
The world is a hole from all that I stole
But there is still a little love in here
Few things will last, I did it too fast
But I'm learning to cry

Don't be a stepping stone
Get it all out, deliver it

Here's my weep
I'm digging too deep
I do believe in lies
I've got everything to hide, oh
I'm young, I'm old
I do what I'm told
Cut open, unfold
But there's nothing inside, oh

Hey child, you dance too loud
Here is your limit

Don't be a stepping stone
Get it all out, deliver it

Here's my plead
My never ending repeat
I'm a circular cry-baby
With no one to trust
I'm restless and mad
And anciently sad
If someone wants to kill me
Go ahead but make it fast

7) Lost and Found - Ledisi

Contradiction

Yeah... That always sums it up for me. I am everything. No 1 thing is ever the answer.

I am fighting.
        Yet I’ve given up.
I am strong.
        Yet so powerless.
I am happy.
        Yet filled with such great sadness.
I am love.
        Yet bitter inside.
I am hope.
        Yet numb and dead already.

I just don’t know. I have these moments of clarity, breaths of fresh air, light... But they are always tempered with contradictions. Confusion, trapped, panic, and darkness. UGH.

I would say if people defined me by my passions they would somehow involve work, food, sleep, and music. But all of those have left me for now. And I feel bad for my friends and family. My mom is trying so hard to help. I don’t know how to kindly take this out of her hands. Lord knows what they think of me. I mean, I’m not even nice anymore. It takes so much energy just to maintain my composure, I just show up and grace everybody with my bad attitude. I walk around with my arms crossed and my voice with no inflection. I’m sure this isn’t the reaction they would want from me... Marisa, the most hyper, lively, arms flailing about, talking a mile a minute person they remember.

I know... this too shall pass...
RIGHT?

I guess I don’t write much about my mom. Well, that’s not true, I’ve written a few things about her in the past (years ago), but that was a rough time in my life, and my reactions to her then were simply a product of that devastating time. My mom and I are 2 exceptionally strong willed stubborn women. We’re also extremely passionate and pretty hyper-sensitive to everything. You can only imagine the two of us together. The same, but SO different - it’s bound to be volatile... and usually comical too. But I love her and she loves me. It’s just our thing - our dance. I don’t think she believes I love her, but if only she knew how much I do. How much I’ve changed my entire life, just so she could be in it. Just takes time I guess.

Here’s what I find fascinating about life. We are ALL this way. We are all the same, yet SO SO different. Part of my struggle some days is how to fit in. I want to do what is good and happy and reassuring to others. (without losing myself) But all I really know how to do is treat people like I like to be treated. But some days I think I am totally crazy and so, like some fucked up Seinfeld episode, I pull a George and try to do the opposite of what my instinct says. Ha Ha

I notice this happening alot. I have a friend who is constantly saying and doing things that get me all worked up. That totally drain me. I’m confused as to how he is so confused. However, when I stepped back, what I really heard him saying is - “This is how I would like to be treated. This is what I would like someone to say to me. This is what I need.” We’ve talked about it and he admitted as much. But WOW did I have the opposite reaction! Sorry “friend”...

The same, but so different.

I have another friend to whom I just sent an email. I hope he doesn’t mind me sharing an excerpt of what I said to him. It was basically me saying, “Hey what’s up, I don’t know what to do... so I’m gonna tell you personal truth about me and see if it resonates. Or at least excuses the fact that I might not be reacting how you want me to, but my intention is in the right place and I hope you can see that... and also, since I don’t know what to do, will you to tell me what to do?” I wonder if that’s what he took away from the email? LOL

Here’s the part about the personal truth:

------------
It's weird cuz my reactions to trauma and despair is to be like an injured animal. I want to run off into the woods and lick my wounds until things are better - in solitude. When it comes to my life I have a pretty rigid grip on serious decisions being made by me and only me. I have to do it myself. Learn it for myself (Even if it's the hard way) Make up my own mind. So, that makes friends sort of a dead issue. You can sit there and stare at me and listen to me and hug me and none of it changes anything until I come to it myself, until I'm ready. I like to just SIT thru the uncomfortableness until it passes.

But then I think back on some horrible times and I remember the few people who didn't forget about me. Who checked on me. Sometimes who just left me little things on my doorstep or sent me an email with no expectation of return conversations because I had no energy to do so, or came and forced me out every once and a while. And THOSE few people I will love forever because I was incapable of giving anything back and yet they expended the energy to show kindness anyways.
------------

That is my natural reaction. To retreat. I don’t want to talk about it. Think about it. Have you touch me. Hug me. (Did you see the contradiction in the above too? cuz I kinda do... LOL)

Actually, as I’m typing this I’m thinking how unfair I am. I don’t trust many people. I don’t think many people see much value in me. Well, I think people see value in me when it’s EASY. When I’m happy and fun and generous... When I cater your party... When I spend money on you... But what about when it’s difficult? When I don’t laugh, or go out, or have anything good to say? Who is willing to hang in there with me? I don’t know if that’s a subconscious thing or not, but I’ll apologize now for basically admitting that a small part of my funk is now an admitted “test”... Oh brother, am I that typical of a woman? ha ha

SO, where am I going with all this? I don’t know. It’s all the same old thing. Me just rambling about where I am on the roller coaster of life. I don’t think it’s solving anything, but it does feel relatively therapeutic to write it all out. Maybe part of it is a whisper to my friends to hang in there with me. Let me work it out on my own. We’ll see what happens.