“Jessica, did you just fart?”

person eating cheetos

Some Apologies

I want to kick it off by apologizing to my favorite bloggers. I ghosted for like a month. I was inconsistent, which makes me anxious (so naturally, I assume it makes everyone uneasy.) I’m sorry I did that, and I’m working on not doing it again in the future. Starting today. (Also, I missed you. 🤫)

Next up, podcasters. I made the laziest list of podcasts immediately after telling everyone how much I love you. My bad. I’m working on creating a separate page to reflect my gratitude better. It will include studios, siblings, and a chart to indicate how I discovered you. (Thanks, Fran.) I’ll also design a system to show how friendly they are for neurodivergent people, and why. For example, The Friend Zone is the highest possible score for neurodivergent-friendly podcasting. It’s also an excellent starting podcast. The conversation is entirely spontaneous, yet they give precise instructions on how to do surprisingly useful things (mental wellness skills.)

You can see why elaborating on why I recommend them is helpful. (/over-explanation) I’m also sorry for the probability my writing about depression might invisibility-pinch people with severe depression. My depression is presently manageable (without non-medicinal intervention.) I already had therapy, and this is significant (because I probably whined about it without elaborating); even the *wrong therapist can be helpful.

Focus on the skills they teach and try not to let your ego ruin everything, like raisins. Quit them when you have enough skills to work on things at home. Repeat (with someone else) if/when necessary. (It’s one of the lessons to which I’m referring.) When I’m in crisis, such as during the nightmare preceding my ex-husbands’ (virtually) permanent incarceration, my depression dips low enough to include psychotic episodes.

muscular doll

It makes me seem intellectually challenged based on the feedback I’ve observed. I don’t smear feces on walls, as media portrays. I check out and run on autopilot scripted by dreams, TV shows I watched recently, conversations I overheard, and such with rules loosely similar to Dominoes. It’s like I’m locked in random access memory, and very little of it records onto my hard drive. So it’s possible I smeared feces and don’t remember it, but I have no evidence. Besides, media lies sometimes.

It sucked so much, but I can barely remember it from a non-robotic perspective. When I’m not in crisis, my depression is moderate, with challenging winters. Exercise is my best tool. I do know from experience how low depression can get: where you can’t muster the energy or skills necessary to off yourself, but can’t think of anything else, very slowly, between barely audible, involuntary moans. It’s where I got the saying, stapled to the floor. It’s a tribute to the people enduring severe depression so heroically, they somehow still managed to read my freakin’ blog. I see you. (I was there for a minute, and I’ll never forget.)

Dear comedians,

I’m sorry I tried to glom on to your privilege earned from getting paid to be funny. You are the comedian; I’m part of the audience. I can’t joke about things I know may hurt others because nobody is paying me to be funny. There is no meet-you-halfway bracing in anticipation of my dancing near or crossing the line with wild, professional abandon going on here. I didn’t think it through. I’m in awe of your abilities and much appreciate your healing talent. I’m sorry I overstepped the boundary.

(you know) 🥰

Person facing away

New Rule

Shame is banned. (Possibly canceled, but I’m not sure I understand the culture.) It’s a con against the human condition. I’m not privy to a single example where it was effective in any positive change. All it ever did was hurt people. What a piece of shit, right? Lay by your bowl forever, Shame. If that’s even your real name, (she added, further proving she’s not a comedian by chasing it with a self-inflicted snort.)

Interesting Stuff

Jesus wept is my favorite line in the Holy Bible. It’s my mantra as I exorcise all traces of hypermasculinity out of me. (I hope it’s not cultural appropriation. I’m still playing catch-up.) In some ways, I copy all the teachers who attract my attention. Jesus didn’t let anyone talk him out of being human to feed imaginary pride. Those two words say it so succinctly. 💜✌🏽

*-Wrong such as; the therapist is going through a crisis without heal-thyself abilities, you brought in oversized luggage, inexperience, personality barriers, are ist/ōbic, suck at it, or stuff I haven’t imagined yet.

“I feel God in this Chili’s tonight.”

Please take your time. There is much to see.

Welp, it’s time to say goodbye to 2019.  There were some fab experiences and connections made, recovered, maintained, and held onto by a thread (at least in my head.)  The Beyoncè Show was technically in 2018, but it was a bucket list item, so it counts forever.  The same goes for the Fleetwood Mac concert in February.  (Just typing that made me smile.)  It was a therapeutic event at a time when I felt isolated from my (geographical) community.  Witnessing Fleetwood Mac perform in my hometown while surrounded by locals (of Sioux Falls) felt healing on levels I didn’t know existed.

It was a fantastic celebration (after taking the risk and actively doing something to help repair the breach.)  Podcasts became my second favorite infotainment after novels.  (Not thrilled with that word but beggars and all that.)  I can watch non-animated TV again.  I’m delighted I reclaimed this ability while Game of Thrones happened.  I love being alive while people produce excellence together and create something so shiny it moves the world.  I don’t have permission to share things related to (non-famous) people in my world.  Suffice to say; there are people in my tribe who share about themselves things that make me look at them the way I look at Beyoncé. 😆

There was a considerable increase in the number of people I adore.  Cool.  (I think it has something to do with going Full Auntie.)  I learned how to forgive myself and others more effectively.  I’ve (mostly) accepted it’s a necessary and inevitable process that’s not improved by delay.  I’m working on what to do after I’ve forgiven someone who won’t outgrow their offense.  For now, gentle indifference.  I firmly believe in post-mistake recovery.  I can’t believe in throwing people away forever.  Social rules and individuals are both (potentially) fallible and ever-changing.

leaves representing harmony

Figuratively burying outcasts landmines where we all walk is weak.  The Trauma Baton we insist on passing from generation to generation is holding us back as a species in a significant way.  From my viewpoint, it seems we’re finally beginning to address this cycle, which gives me great hope for the future.  I love imagining a world full of emotionally healthy people who aren’t merely surviving or reacting to the past but actively creating the present to support a future in which we can all thrive.  We’ll still have strife and challenges.  They’ll be new, and we’ll figure out how to overcome them, too.  We’re sofa king awesome.  Heh.

I continue to practice being present in my body.  Learning this skill involved acknowledging how much I used to dissociate.  I’m alarmed by how long I lived while not existing in my body, but don’t see any need to delve deeper.  I don’t live that way anymore.  It was something I did to survive, and I’m thankful I had the skill when I needed it.  It feels almost like getting my first 4k HDTV.  Everything looks more honest.  I didn’t know my view was blurry until it wasn’t.  I like it.  The details reveal imperfection and beauty in balance, and now I can believe what I see.  (Shivers while climbing out of my Matrix pod.)   🤭

Next year I’m going to drink more water.  I think I’m getting about half of what I need, which is an improvement over 2018.  Heh.  Pretty sure I’m going to nail it.  I watched episode 10 of The Read TV show.  I laughed so hardCHIKA had me on the floor.  Kid Fury and Crissle do a lot of subtle physical comedy that enhances the hilarious things they say.  When Kid Fury abruptly got up and walked off after Young M.A. cozied up to Crissle, I laughed for like half an hour.  Dear Fuse, (or HBO or Netflix in case Fuse doesn’t like money🙂  I love the show so much, and I need more.  (After they recover, of course.)  I hope everyone knew joy while celebrating holidays (or ignoring them.)  I’m off to beat my drums with sticks. ✌🏽💜

p.s. If the season finds you stapled to the floor by despair, please summon the courage to connect with someone who can help. 💜  International Suicide Hotlines

“I was the youngest pilot in Pan Am history.”

statue of anthropomorphized rabbit holding a pocket watch

I’m late, and I’m sorry.  I wrote a whole post, and then WordPress glitched, and the gremlins deleted every word forever.  Now my thoughts are scattered.  Carrie Fisher was like a goddess who made fun of you if you worshipped her.  My friends smirk at each other every time I mention I’m in a band.  Heh.  I can handle the truth, but I prefer to whine a bit while I do it (slowly.)  I didn’t share anything from my study of Dolly Parton because she values her privacy.  (See: nunya.)

I can tell you this:  I love her.  (This is where you act surprised, and proclaim, ditto.)  🤭 I’m saving Curb Your Enthusiasm for a time when I need it.  I love knowing it’s there.  It allows me to risk trying new stuff, even if I suspect it will result in being stapled to the floor.  (I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.)  I’m having so much fun leveling up to 120 in Warcraft.  Yesterday I accidentally walked in the path of an elite monster two levels higher than me.

Picture it.  Sicily, 1922:  the battle of my toon’s life began.  It took an excruciatingly long time, but I survived, and the monster did not.  I’m a tank, which means if I keep my cool, I’m tough to kill.  (It’s a crapshoot.)  The reward was junk, worth like 15 silver.  (Blizzard is hilarious.)  Then, while I was standing there laughing about the insulting loot, it happened again.  The monster had a freaking sibling.  I ran away and lived to tell this tale.  It chased me for a ridic long time, though.  Blizzard.  🤭

Meth.-Were-On-It.-Images_4
It is real.

M said our safe word the other day, which means freeze, you’re hurting me.  (It’s usually a case of playing too fast and loose with words, requiring a break to think about why you’re an asshole right now.)  I was out of balance.  It happens.  I zoom in on a single area and get my geek on, then neglect other things (because time has us all in a headlock.)  Whoops. I fixed it.  I had the urge to punch someone in the face earlier.  It surprised me because the trigger was someone from Sioux Falls talking shit about Sioux Falls.

First of all, what the hell?  How can you know Sioux Falls and not love it?  Who hurt you?  Of course, my inner adult insisted it was a fix-your-face-and-walk-away situation. (‘Sup, Midwesterners? ✌🏽)  But I’m still a little irked.  I’m pretty sure there’s a law that states if you insult Sioux Falls as an insider, it best be funny, yo.  Breaking it all willy nilly might get you face-punched by a local.  (We all have failed-at-adulting days.) What?

Issa Rae was on The Read TV show on Friday.  Is it ist for me to say she’s breathtakingly beautiful?  I’m putting an Issa Rae not-in-the-same-room restraining order on myself because there’s no way I could be in her presence without staring and not blinking (until someone tells me to snap out of it.)  Heh.  So anyway, she’s fabulous.  I also enjoyed the four wardrobe changes in a single episode — logistics flex, alone.  🤭 I’m off to watch it again (and feel incredibly proud of other people’s kids.)  💜✌🏽

“I’m the valet. You have to give me your car.”

person in bunny suit sitting on a bench

I’ve been reading (audio) books by actors of late.  It started with How to American:  An Immigrants Guide to Disappointing Your Parents, by Jimmy O. Yang.  It was so good I finished in two days.  (I laughed so hard, I don’t recommend listening in public.)  It made me fall in love with America all over again.  If you don’t read it, I feel sorry for you.  Next, I listened to The Actor’s Life: A Survival Guide, by Jenna Fischer.  I loved it.

I have no plans of becoming an actor, but she mentioned it on the Office Ladies podcast, and it sounded like useful information regardless.  It turned out to be fascinating.  I learned a lot, and it led to thoughts about defining success, how to recognize it, gather it, and how to continue growing despite it.  Since it means something different to each person, I think Jenna Fischer did a brilliant job of conveying her journey in a manner easily translated to alternate paths.

I loved hearing it in her voice, too.  The authors narrate these books, (and when the reader is an actor, it’s excellent.)  I mean.  Duh.  They’re professional storytellers.  Damn.  I just typed the obvious.  I laughed a lot with this book, too.  (I should probably make a rule about listening to podcasts and audiobooks by funny people in public.)  I’m currently more than halfway through reading The Bassoon King:  Art, Idiocy, and Other Sordid Tales from the Band Room, by Rainn Wilson.

making shadows

I like Rainn Wilson even more than Dwight Schrute.  I saw him on Mom recently playing a therapist.  He was great in that, too.  After reading about how these actors struggled when building their careers, I remember a moment of feeling retro alarmed.  In all three books, they emphasized the significance of seeking out opportunities in areas that correspond to your strengths.  I thought back to when I joined the Army, and how I chose my MOS (military occupational specialty.)

Before joining, everyone takes the ASVAB (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery) test.  It’s a tool you can use to help choose your job.  I scored well overall, so I picked a job that would help me improve in the area I scored lowest, not a job that required skills I already possessed.  To me, it was the most obvious thing in the world.  And I just found out it’s probably the opposite of what most would decide.  Whoops.

Fortunately, I got to learn some amazing stuff I had no idea even existed.  I also got to help pioneer a new job opened for women in the Army (my ego still appreciates that bit.)  Unfortunately, I loved the training and theory but felt no passion for the job, which mattered because it led to my getting into shenanigans with tearful consequences out of boredom.  So I went back to training and did it again.

cliche fake nose glasses

The second area entailed nuclear, biological, and chemical warfare training.  (sings, hated it.)  I decided if there’s ever a nuclear explosion, to run toward the flash.  I don’t even want to talk about the other two.  Guess what?  I went back and trained again.  They called me The Educated Soldier at one point because I was continually going on TDY for school.  It did help me figure out I was destined to be a chairborne warrior, though.  Anything with a computer was my eventual specialty.  Heh.

I don’t regret taking the scenic route. Skill-building does lovely things for my self-esteem.  I love being more capable than people expect.  I think one of the coolest things I learned is there are all sorts of ways to be intelligent, and most of them don’t include what they claimed in classrooms as kids.  I met soldiers who could talk to engines the way I talk to computers.  They awed me; (aside from that time, they sent me out to fill all the tires on the tracked vehicles.)  I’m off to continue my book.  💜✌🏽

“I have another complaint for Jim’s permanent file.”

decorative toys and stuffies

I had a fun Halloween.  I dressed up as a sloth and passed out candy very slowly to trick-or-treaters.  I suspect some of the kids didn’t recognize I was role-playing and thought I was just old.  Heh.  (A few got impatient and went to another apartment, then returned when I broke character after noticing it only amused me.)  The kids were loud, excited, and adorable.  I liked having their energy breeze through.

I couldn’t figure out how to take a selfie while masked.  🤪  M invited me to join him at a party, but the theme included the word haunted or horror.  We both started laughing after he asked.  I’ve never been wired to appreciate the thrill of being scared.  Epigenetics, yo.  I’m a wee bit jealous of the people who can participate in such things (without crying.) I have my Blu-rays of Us and Get Out that I won’t be watching, ever. (I bought them to support Jordan Peele.)

I haven’t even watched American Horror Story, and Stevie Nicks is in it. (!!!) (M said that alone proves it’s epigenetics.)  😂  My mind is running all over the place.  I’m officially a Lizzo fan.  I loved her immediately.  I find out about new-to-me artists from my favorite podcasts lately.  My introduction to American Griots, by Louis York, was terrific.  They performed a song on The Friend Zone podcast, and it was ear candy.  I preordered the album immediately after.  (It’s so good!)

neon sign stating, it was all a dream

XD, from Jade and XD, created a unisex fragrance, called, D’Leau.  I ordered some, and in the process, created two scents of my own.  Both M and I are in love with D’Leau.  It’s officially my favorite at this time.  However, the ones I created reek.  (It turns out; I suck at it.) Fortunately, I don’t care because I have D’Leau.  😆  I’ve had two people ask me about it so far (and you know I don’t get out much.)  😂

It’s World of Warcraft’s 15th anniversary.  I’ve been playing on and off for eleven years now.  I have no plans of quitting, although I did have an unfortunate incident the other day. I was soloing a dungeon from The Burning Crusade, and some toon assassin appeared from thin air behind me.  It scared the shit out of me, and I nearly had a panic attack.  I took a three-day break, then got right back in there and reran it, this time on the heroic setting.

It still startled me when I triggered the assassin again, but I didn’t panic.  I just stood there and let the bastard try to kill my toon until I got bored, then ended him with nonchalance.  (I’m a level 110 tank, and he was level 80 or something.)  I’m so glad Blizzard allows us to travel back to lower level areas to exact revenge.  I don’t do it often, but when I do, I drink Dos Equis I usually have a blast.  I’m going to upgrade because they’re releasing a new expansion next year.  It’ll probably take me that long to reach level 120.  Heh.  I’m off to play.  💜✌🏽

p.s.  Missy Elliot was on The Read TV show on Fuse!!!