Every so often, things will come up in our lives that are just worth getting over.

Getting over it takes less energy and stress than pondering over it.

Like the time that I saw this gorgeous jacket at a consignment store and didn’t buy it. It could have been my “signature jacket” that Stacy and Clinton so suggest every woman have. Two days later, I went back and it was gone. I pined over that jacket for days. DAYS, I tell you! And for what purpose? It’s not like I could go back in time and buy the jacket. There’s just no point in going over and over and over things…this whole “coulda woulda shoulda” thing doesn’t accomplish anything.

I feel like these things come up all the time, even in our interactions with other people.

For much of my adult life, I’ve found myself to be a pretty accepting person. I won’t force my life on you if you won’t force your life on me. So I’ve always sort of naturally assumed that if I ask someone to do or not do something around me, I’ll be given that respect with the understanding that they can ask the same of me.

So what do you do when someone doesn’t respect your wishes? Get over it. And if necessary, do some purging.

I don’t normally bring the Bible into my blog (as I try to be all-encompassing here), but I have this tattoo on my back – part of which is just embarrassing – that is the Hebrew words for LOVE and SACRIFICE. The whole point of this tattoo comes from my days in Bible college and from a section of the Bible found in Romans 14 (round about verse 19 through 23). It basically gets to the idea that if something is okay for me, that’s fine, but if it’s not okay for you, then it’s probably better and easier for me NOT to do something…and vice versa. It’s a rule that I generally live by.

Case and Point: My sister doesn’t drink. She doesn’t enjoy it and I think it might make her feel weird when I go out with her and get loaded (this has happened only once and I was young and selfish and self-destructive). So instead of forcing her to feel uncomfortable, it’s just easier on both of us if I drink a diet Coke and be done with it. Life without booze is certainly manageable for me.

So what’s my point here?

If I ask you to do or not do something, please respect that. I’ll grant you the same.

I hate doing laundry. Hate it. In fact, when I got married, that was one of the first chores that we ultimately decided would be primarily my husband’s chore (did you catch that? MY husband. MINE). He sort of used it as a bit of a bargaining chip for further chore divvying and, rightly so, continues to use it as such. I really hate doing laundry that much.

He’s good at it too. Sort, separates, folds, the works. Only once has he botched something of mine, but I’ve since clarified the specific items of my clothing that cannot go in the dryer. There are certain things I have that just have to be air-dried.

Sweaters must be air dried (and then tumbled to soften them up again). Denim is the same.
Pricy undergarments never end up in the dryer.
Sweatshirts and sweatpants, in order to maintain the integrity of the length and softness I require, must also be line dried.

But, naturally, all the clothes must first be washed and clean. I mean, what’s the point of airing out dirty laundry?

It’s stinky and it makes you look rather foolish. Nobody wants to see your filthy clothes out on the line or hanging over your balcony. It’s gross (thank you, Billy Bush).

It makes no sense, right?

Even more foolish would be to take someone else’s dirty laundry and air that out all on your own. Frankly, if you have no idea where my laundry is kept or how often I clean it or even when laundry day is in my house, why would you even bother to march into my home and air out my laundry? You have no idea if it’s clean or dirty. In fact, some of it may be stained and I may be waiting for the Tide pen to do it’s magic. It takes time to clean out stains and you have no idea how long I might have been trying to get rid of the stain or how close I’m getting. Or some of my laundry might be in piles so that I can get rid of all the things I no longer want or need in my life (I purge quite a lot anyhow).

So if someone were to just waltz on into my house, uninvited, and grab whatever laundry they wanted in order to air it out, they might be royally fucking some things up.

My point?

If you want to air your own laundry on your own line, that’s fine and I’m okay with it.
But don’t drag my laundry into your mess.

I’ve had roommate before and we’ve combined laundry. It never really ends well. Socks get mismatched and shirts misplaced. In short, once you get laundry all mixed together, it’s really hard to un-mix it. So why even start?

We all have our strengths.

Mine typically lie in the grammatical arenas and occasionally in the creative. I’m a pretty good singer. I do well in the kitchen (especially when I’m baking). When I really feel like it, I can clean a house like you wouldn’t believe. I’m a financial mastermind (just ask my husband) and I can plan the hell out of any vacation you want.

My shortcomings are many, I assure you. But the one that really tends to boggle the mind (or bottle it, if you’re an Anchorman) is my total lack of mathematical skills whatsoever. I rely really heavily on my fingers, calculators, and Microsoft Excel to make sure that every number in my life adds up correctly.
So what do I do when I spill coffee on the one calculator I have at the office?

Divide by zero, of course!

And in a normal world, where doing this would result in black holes, my calculator now tells me that not only is this possible, but that the answer to any math problem I give it is 3, somehow by default.

So I began asking the calculator other questions.

335 + 50 = 387.50
The 6 key now pulls 00
It has decided that I simply do not need to use the number 9 anymore
Clearing the calculator results in a negative number of your choosing.
And pressing the = key is nothing short of disastrous. 123456 x 6 = 914.494591678

So here’s what I can conclude from all of this.
I am not supposed to do math. Ever.

There are things that I want to say, things that keep me awake at night. But I’m trying to put all of that out of my mind. It’s just not worth it. The anger and hatred is only really affecting me and eating me alive so I choose to (try to) push past that.

I have a box of sh*t that I no longer deem worthy of being in my home. Much of it will get broken in a final fit of rage. Some will be given away. And still some will hopefully sell well on Craigslist.

Yesterday was the most painful day yet. Fortunately, I had two lovely women recommend the following two songs to me:

Comfortably Numb (Pink Floyd)

Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?
Come on, Come on, Come on, now,
I hear you’re feeling down.
Well, I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again.
Relax.
I’ll need some information first.
Just the basic facts.
Can you show me where it hurts?
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship’s smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying.
When I was a child I had a FEVER My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I’ve got that feeling once again
I can’t explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.
O.K.
Just a little pin prick.
There’ll be no more aaaaaaaaah!
But you may feel a little sick.
Can you stand up?
I do believe it’s working, good.
That’ll keep you going through the show
Come on it’s time to go.
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship’s smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying.
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
but I have become comfortably numb.

Details In The Fabric (Jason Mraz)

Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling all your threads saying
Breaking yourself up

If it’s a broken part, replace it
But, if it’s a broken heart then brace it
If it’s a broken heart then face it

And hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own
Know your own name
And go your own way

And everything will be fine
Everything will be fine
Mmmhmm

Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I’m doing everything

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you’re shocked it’s just the fault
Of faulty manufacturing.

Yeah everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Everything

Hold your own
And know your name
And go your own way

Are the details in the fabric

(Hold your own, know your name)
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

(Go your own way)

Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)
Are the things that make you panic (Go your own way)
Is it Mother Nature’s sewing machine?

Are the things that make you blow (Hold your own, know your name)
Hell no reason go on and scream
If you’re shocked it’s just the fault (Go your own way)
Of faulty manufacturing

Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Hearts will hold

And another of my own choosing:

Down To The River To Pray (Alison Krauss)

As I went down to the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol’ way
And who shall wear the starry crown?
Good Lord show me the way!

O sisters let’s go down
Lets go down, Come on down
O sisters lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol way
And who shall wear the robe & crown
Good Lord show me the way

O brothers lets go down
Let’s go down, Come on down
O brothers lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol way
And who shall wear the star and crown?
Good lord show me the way

O fathers lets go down
Let’s go down, Come on down
O fathers lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol way
And who shall wear th robe and crown
Good Lord show me the way

O mothers lets go down
Come on down, don’t you wanna go down?
O Mothers lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol’ way
And who shall wear the star and crown?
Good Lord show me the way

O sinners lets go down
Lets go down, come on down
O sinners lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol way
And who shall wear the Robe and crown?
Good Lord show me the way

Music is a huge part of who I am. I’m a terrible lyricist and an even worse songwriter so I use others work as an outlet for myself. It’s not nearly as cathartic as calling her names or wishing hateful things or breaking stuff or crying or a million other things I could do to release, but it’s far more productive to just listen to music and sing along.

So that’s what I’m choosing to do at this point. And I’m throwing in a healthy dose of Owl City because, let’s be honest, how can you not feel good when you listen to that techno pop silliness?

Possibly the heaviest post to date. And this blog dates back quite a way.

I have been asking myself (and the larger Twitter/Facebook community, somewhat rhetorically) how to deal with hate. I’ve never experienced it before though I’ve probably said the word a lot. I mean, I hate mushrooms.

But hating mushrooms isn’t emotionally, mentally, physically, or spiritually toxic.

Pure, unadulterated hatred, however, is.

But when you’ve been so betrayed that it knocks the wind out of you and causes you to just stand there, staring, it’s hard to know what else to feel. It’s hard to know what to trust.

I keep thinking horrible (and somewhat insane) thoughts. I go over and over in my head things I’d like to say.

But none of this really accomplishes anything. Anger, after all, is a secondary emotion. One that needs to be addressed and dealt with, but secondary nonetheless.

I feel anger because I’ve been betrayed. I’ve been lied to. I’ve been hurt in unforgivable ways.

And because I’ve never been truly betrayed before, I’m not sure what to feel or how to react. So hate is where I’m stuck right now.

People with Blue interests like activities that allow them to be creative. This can be through more traditional visual arts, writing or musical pursuits although not limited to these. The creativity is often expressed in thinking of new ideas or strategies that can have a broad range of applications. Blue interests often like thinking about the future and planning for long term benefits. Hobbies include: performing or listening to music, attending theater, story telling, journaling, decorative arts, painting. Career choice often are: Editor, Journalist, Teacher, Strategic Planner, Consultant, Performing Arts, Marketing, Communications, Research and Development.

People with Yellow strengths are good at managing details and creating sophisticated processes that allow them to get complex work done. Once a game plan has been put in place, it is implemented. Their decisions are based on facts and carefully reasoned. When working with other people, they are fair and democratic and always can be counted on to deliver what they commit to.

so there’s that…

I know I talk about stressing out a lot, probably more than is really necessary.

But in talking with a friend over the weekend, I discovered something that I don’t think I knew before: I get stressed about not being stressed.

That’s kind of a messed up way to live life, don’t you think?

I’ve been working on my undergrad since 1999. For people who hate math as much as I do, that means I’m starting my eleventh year of school. Which mean, officially, I’ve been in school for a grand total of 25 years. Non-stop. Well, okay, I took a break for one semester while I got married and there was a little dicking around when I took worthless classes at community college, but I’ve been learning stuff for 25 years. And what’s weird is that since I’ve never known my life without school, I’m not quite sure what to do with my life when I do take a break, forced or not.

Take the last six weeks. I had six weeks or 42 days or 504 hours to do, quite simply, nothing. So what did I do? I jammed that full of 11 holiday parties, one visit to the symphony, and baked nearly 600 cookies. I apparently don’t know how to slow down.

It’s almost like, in order for me to feel like I’m accomplishing something, I have to feel stressed out. It’s totally unnecessary and I’m fully aware of that. The problem is that I’m not sure how to fix it. Honestly, for the next 50 weeks, I have to live in a constant state of stress and I’m okay with that. It’s the “after that” that I’m worried about.

I told my friend that it’s as if I get stressed if I don’t have something to be stressed about. “There must be something that I’m forgetting to do!” I told her. But that’s not at all the case. I live my life in 15-minute increments — another folly, I know — but in doing so, it’s very rare that I forget something. I have four calendars that are actively used. It’s not like it’s really possible for me to forget something (I say, sheepishly).

However, I did make a bit of a pact to myself in an effort to alleviate some of the stress I put on myself, intentionally or otherwise. If I’m asked to do something and I decline said invitation, that’s the end of it. I won’t allow myself to feel guilty for missing an event or party. I won’t feel as if I’m letting someone down for not accepting an invitation out.

Because let’s be honest: When you combine Type A with People Pleaser with Constant Stress Box, the results could be disastrous. Unfortunately, I am all of those things.

Ever have those moments when you just feel like behaving poorly because, for some indescribable reason, you think it’ll make you feel better?

I do this from time to time.

When I’m stuck in traffic (especially in one, very specific area of my city), being angry at the world makes me feel better. I call people names and swear, all from the confines of my vehicle. There is nothing about being in that area that makes me feel “right” so being angry feels not only good, but natural.

Snarky is another behavior that I sometimes like to exhibit. I find myself getting snarky and crappy most often in online discussions and forums. More often than not, topics are related to either politics or religion (and when the two topics combine, WATCH OUT!). World issues is another topic that brings out the snark in me. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know everything there is to know about anything (except the television show, Friends), but I’ve got a good handle on facts, what I believe, and why I believe those things, so it’s fun for me to get involved in those types of rather-heated discussions. Snarky also comes out when I’ve been hurt or somehow wronged. I mostly just want to get shitty. It’s in those moments that I have to be really careful and aware of my propensity for this behavior because, frankly, it’s pointless.

Being melancholy (read: emo) is another one that I’ve been known to display. This is, by far, the most inexplicable of all my poor behaviors. I really have no reason to be “woe-is-me” and yet, from time to time, it just feels good. However, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: at some point (at several points, really) in everyone’s lives, two situations occur: 1) your life, your situation, your problems are undeniably the most important and the world is allowed to revolve around you for the moment; and 2) someone else’s issues are more important for the moment. I could probably prattle on for pages about this behavior of mine, but I won’t.

But it all does beg the question: why, if I know these are crummy behaviors, do I continue to exhibit them from time to time?

I think that as we get older, we all look back and consider all the choices we’ve made and things we’ve done and sort of ponder how all of those things have shaped who we are. We all want to believe that we come to where we are currently of our own accord and while that’s probably true most of the time, do we ever stop to think about why we do certain things we do?

Why do I listen to a certain type of music or a specific band? Why do I write my cursive “a” and “g” that way? Why do I say that phrase? Why do I wear the style of clothes that I do? Why do I love that one movie?

If I really thought about it, I could probably pin each of those things back to a specific person. Maybe even a specific time in my life. I’d be hard pressed to find many of those people still in my life actively (most are mere memories by now), but things I learned from them tend to stick around.

Sure, my family has impacted my behaviors and attitudes in an infinite number of ways, but substantial portions of my life prove the saying that “no person can cross the path of your destiny without leaving a mark on it forever…”

We all have former lovers, grade school best friends, teachers and professors, relgious leaders, random acquaintances, even famous actors/writers/philosophers that we know have marked our lives somewhat indelibly. So it does become a more than a little true that once you’ve come into contact with someone and spent some amount of time with them, chances are very good that your “destiny” will be forever marked by them and theirs by you.

I wonder, then, why I hear of people getting wound around the axle when their current spouse/lover/best friend makes some remark that unintentionally hearkens back to a former life. Is it really impossible to delete a past whatever from one’s being? Take my husband for example. He was married to another woman before me. He exhibits behaviors and probably says and does things that he did when he was married to her. I mean, they were together for nigh on five years. It would be practically miraculous if he never exposed to me that part of his life. She left a mark on his life. I have boyfriends from the past that have left marks on my life. Is it all that odd? Is it even bad?

Life is almost entirely wrapped up in being in constant contact with another person. So how would it be possible to deny that people shape who we are? I think we might all like to believe that we’ve become the person we are at this very moment based entirely on our own choices, of our own free will. But the reality is, people have shaped who I am in the same way I have probably shaped another person.