People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"

So, I've got some balls rolling. And now I'm sitting and waiting and packing and waiting and reading and doing paperwork and waiting and eating cake and Oreos in between. Being unemployed is making me fat. I always assumed the opposite would be true. I was wrong. Though the Wii fit is sitting right there mocking me and all my free time....

Yesterday was my birthday. I'm 37. If you didn't already know that, now you do.

Now to the real point of this....any financial wizards out there should chime in right now and tell me if it's better to use credit cards or take some of my 401k out to pay for a move. And do so with the knowledge that I probably already have my mind made up and will more than likely do what I'm going to do anyway but I'm asking for input to feel like I'm being a bit responsible by "doing research." That's what this is. Research. Yeah.

For Nigh On Fifteen Years

I'm basically a person that has always had some sense or need for security. To know that things will be and are taken care of. I'm not one of those risk takers. One of those people that just packs up and moves and does things without thinking it to death. And this has probably held me back in some ways. I've let fear and insecurity rule me a lot. This is a big reason why I'm still in Virginia after all of this time.

Over the weekend, I bought a daisy. I love daisies. They are my favorite flower. And I'd not had a daisy since I moved out of our house and into my apartment. Because I wasn't going to be there long. That's what I kept telling myself. I won't be here very long. I'm going to get the hell out of Virginia and the daisy will be left behind and that would be sad.

Yeah, I know. "Why are you leaving it behind, what's the deal here?" I have a long history of leaving plants behind. I don't know why. I love my plants. I do. But when I'm packing and getting things in the truck the plants seem to never fit! And so they get left. With hopes that the next people moving in will take care of them.

But, here it is like a year and a half later and I'm still here. Still in Virginia. Still in this fucking hell hole of a soggy apartment. So, I said fuck it and bought myself a daisy. And I repotted it. And I've been watering it. And talking to it. I told it as I repotted it, "you just watch. I'll get an interview in Arizona now. And it will be because of you!"

Well....I didn't get an interview. But I did get laid off. Potato / rice crispies, right? No! I'm looking at the rice crispies as if they are a potato. It's not an interview, but it is an opportunity. A chance to make a change in my life. The safety net has been removed. There is no reason for me to NOT be a risk taker right now. To not grab my own life by its horns and do and go and be! So, yeah. That's what I'm gonna shoot for.

I'm currently freaked out. But, I'm also currently believing and knowing that I can do it. I'm smart. I'm strong. I'm independent. And I'm not the first person that has been in this situation. I'm not going to die. I'm not going to be homeless. I'm going to be fine. And I'll be fine on my terms. And I'll be fine where I want to be. And that's just really all there is to that.

Under My Skin It's Just The Same

Facebook is evil. I've always found it quite silly and I block the shit out of any application that I see on my newsfeed or requesting me to accept some something that somebody is sending.

Sidenote - send me a note that says "hi" if you've got some free time. I won't block that. I'll likely send you a note back that says "hello to you!" But I will block your request to see which Harry Potter Character's Car reveals what Color my Aura is as a Disney Princess. OK? OK...

Anyway, overall my experience with Facebook has been mostly positive. I've reconnected and chatted with people I've not talked to in years and that's always nice.

Sure, I have the girly analysis experience that most girls probably have on Facebook. Because, according to the Scrubs episode I watched last night, all women still have that insecure 16 year old hiding inside of them. *gag barf throw up in my mouth a little bit except, oh wait....I do kinda have that....durn* So, yes. I have briefly glanced at a few profiles from time and time and looked at things that are said between other parties and attempted to pick it apart and twist it until it means something about me. Yeah. Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm nuts a girl.

Now, the evil? Yeah. Yesterday a friend posted a link to a story about a man getting familiar with an Australian Sheppard/Border Collie mix. And he wrote a brief note about how stories like this make him stand up and hold his head up high and be happy and proud that he's from Maryland and not West Virginia.

Erm....I'm fairly certain all states have at least one dog fucker. So, being the person that I am, I went on the search. I wanted to find at least one dog fucker in Maryland that I could link to and be all "in the face! Yeah! Proud now?!?" and generally attempt to enjoy being smug for a bit. My day needed a boost.

Be careful what you wish for when it comes to smugness, people.

Why?

Because you can't unsee certain things. And when you have your computer not set for Safe Searches because in general you want to see whatever naked may pop up when you search for random strings of words, you will wind up seeing a woman being fucked by a German Sheppard. You just can't unsee that. There's no way. I've tried. It's been seen. No smug. No glory of letting this dude know that his being from Maryland is no great gift. Just me sitting here scarred for life. Wondering when the police are going to come to my house and arrest me for being a deviant.

This is what Facebook has done to me. Sure, some could say that it's my need to be smug that did this to me. That's put me on some watch list. I expect PETA to show up any time now to take my dogs away lest I decide to molest them. I spent the rest of the afternoon afraid to visit the lolcats. I've been flagged. I know it. Because of Facebook. Not my need for smug. Facebook.

You've been warned. Don't let Facebook turn you into a deviant...

A Heart That's Full Up Like A Landfill

I finally received the diagnosis of my mole yesterday. Benign, as suspected. So that's good news.

And that's all I have.

And why is that all I have? Mostly because I'm a whiny bitch. A whiny confused bitch. That's got to be, like, the worst kind of bitch ever.

{Many words edited out to avoid passive-aggressiveness. Drafted blog posts...helping me avoid therapy since June '09...maybe avoidance isn't the best path.}

But, hey, that whole mole situation turned out well. Maybe this will, too.

She'll Make You Sweat In The Water

I have a recipe for peanut butter cookies that I learned in the Girl Scouts some number of years ago that I still use to this very day. It's a really simple recipe with only three ingredients. Four if you enjoy chocolate chips in your peanut butter cookies. Take one cup of peanut butter, toss in one cup of sugar, and then mix in an egg and there you go. Plop cookie sized portions on a cookie sheet, mash 'em down with a fork and bake 'em about 15 minutes on 350 and you've got cookies.

Simple, yeah? Straight forward. No need to look at that and over think it, yeah?

Wrong.

Through the years as I give this recipe to people, someone along the way will argue with me that I've left something out. That can't be all there is. There should be more stuff. There needs to be more complication to this. No cookie can only have three simple ingredients and be good. You're wrong, I'm wrong, everybody is wrong until we toss in all sorts of other stuffs that this recipe does not need.

But, that's the nature of humans isn't it? To over think. To want things to be more complicated than they are. To take the long way, the around the ass to get to the elbow way. To not believe that things are simply what they appear to be.

Me included. I take very little at face value and with my frustration at people wanting to muck up my cookie recipe with all sorts of stuff that isn't necessary, I'm beginning to kinda see how frustrating I must be to others. Sure, I can sit here and point to all the reasons why. The lies that have been told to me. The lies that have been told about me. The tricks and rug from under pulling that has been done.

Even now, as recent as this weekend I learned that the one person I didn't think to be a liar....is. Over the most asinine subjects. So, if he was lying about that type of stuff to others, isn't it natural that I would then sit here and think he'd probably lied to me? Even though it doesn't matter. But there goes my brain...thinking, wondering, pondering, adding baking soda where it's not needed. Because if he lied to me....who else is? Who else will? Who isn't?

I just need to stop. Everybody isn't a liar. Everybody is not out to trick me and hurt me. All cookies do not need flour!

Simple. Face value. Trust. We'll see.