Happy day my ass. This day sucks the last word of the last sentence. Go through it, they say. This too shall pass, they say. Look at the bright side, they say. I say phooey.
My heart is so broken this morning from yesterday and days before that which lead to the final KABOOM.
I told people yesterday that I was done. I told people how I saw the relationships. The people simply replied with okay. What else are they expected to say at that point? Oh no Steph...we want to spend time with you and what do you mean we are not friends? Steph, you don't feel we're friends because we don't like the same stuff? That's crazy talk.
I'm done ranting and rehashing. I'm also done saying people when I mean person.
If I were to listen to one of friends speaking the way I have been, I'd tell her this:
DUDE! I get you 100 PERCENT! And so today sister, you're going to start on your personal training program specifically designed for you, by you and about you.
1. Read something fun and something for growth for 10 minutes everyday for the next 5 days.
2. Smile every morning before you open those pretty brown eyes and laugh for the next 5 days.
3. Help one person everyday for the next 5 days.
4. Work your company per your new found schedule everyday for the next 5 days.
5. Hit the gym HARD per your new workout schedule everyday for the next 5 days.
6. NO alcohol everyday for the next 5 days.
7. Clean one part of your house everyday for the next 5 days.
8. Eat RIGHT everyday for the next 5 days.
9. Watch things that make you belly laugh everyday for the next 5 days.
Repeat these steps everyday for the next 5 days. And repeat again. And again. And again...ya follow? All of a sudden a month is going to pass and this day you started this journey will be in motion and you won't be able to stop the train :)
Love you, love us
Sunday, November 3, 2019
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Stained
It's been awhile...as the band sings...that I have felt this way and I just felt my tears of joy, accomplishment and gratitude.
I've been studying and committed to getting my Broker's License and today I just scored 87% and 82% which means I PASSED! (And side bar, I thought committed was one t because isn't commitment one t? The rule...the rule...double the consonant before ed or a vowel? Whatever, moving on.)
I saged my house and smudged myself last week. If you haven't done it...DO IT.
I giggled over a friend of mine dating someone that NO ONE is on board with, (no I'm not talking about myself) and shook my head because if you're gonna Melissa Etheridge this relationship and "be the only one" then you're missing the big picture. Don't date people that your circle, your crew, your tribe, your gang, your whatever questions. DON'T.
I'm feeling so calm and peaceful right now. I may even take a shower today. It's been two days. No, I don't care. It's kinda liberating in a weird way.
I'm going to take a study break. Then come back to it. I'm speechless to become a Broker of California. Sincerely elated.
I've been studying and committed to getting my Broker's License and today I just scored 87% and 82% which means I PASSED! (And side bar, I thought committed was one t because isn't commitment one t? The rule...the rule...double the consonant before ed or a vowel? Whatever, moving on.)
I saged my house and smudged myself last week. If you haven't done it...DO IT.
I giggled over a friend of mine dating someone that NO ONE is on board with, (no I'm not talking about myself) and shook my head because if you're gonna Melissa Etheridge this relationship and "be the only one" then you're missing the big picture. Don't date people that your circle, your crew, your tribe, your gang, your whatever questions. DON'T.
I'm feeling so calm and peaceful right now. I may even take a shower today. It's been two days. No, I don't care. It's kinda liberating in a weird way.
I'm going to take a study break. Then come back to it. I'm speechless to become a Broker of California. Sincerely elated.
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
protein bars
This day is hard. Trying not to resist it but it's just hard.
I feel lonely. I feel rejected. I feel the other person feels the same way. I feel like bashing a rock into my head. I feel that I won't. I feel like why bother. I feel sad my kid is growing up and old enough to move out. I feel this day is going to get better. I feel that's a crock of shit.
Today just blows. I'm rolling with it and staying on point with my diet, my attitude, my work. Sometimes days just suck.
I feel lonely. I feel rejected. I feel the other person feels the same way. I feel like bashing a rock into my head. I feel that I won't. I feel like why bother. I feel sad my kid is growing up and old enough to move out. I feel this day is going to get better. I feel that's a crock of shit.
Today just blows. I'm rolling with it and staying on point with my diet, my attitude, my work. Sometimes days just suck.
Wednesday, June 19, 2019
Chicken soup with chicken
Sounds redundant but alas it is not. I made some stupid chicken soup with a speck of fake noodles and added real chicken cut up into bite size pieces. I did this to help me imagine they are frozen whiskey cubes that I'm ingesting.
June 17 I decided to begin my weight loss adventure with the help of Lindora. So far, so completely shitty. No wine. No beer. (As if they differ and they do...) No whiskey. No vodka and that's even the skinny girl go to. Why in the world am I doing this?
Do I really care if I have a smaller ass and more energy? Smaller ass for no one to touch and give it a go team tap because it's delicious. More energy to wash more dishes or work more hours to make more money to spend it on me? WHO CARES. A size six is just a number, right?
It's quite possibly the best number out there next to a mother fucking four. Six and four are numbers of my "old" pants that I keep in a glass case. No, not to break in case of emergency but more of a shrine. I miss them. I miss feeling little. I miss people staring. Don't get me wrong, they stare now but it's more of an "is she pregnant?" type of stare.
A size 16 is huge. Let's face it. The current revolution of we can be whatever size we are meant to be has got me spinning. I don't wear things that highlight my size. It's rude. That's just how I feel about it. A size 14 isn't as huge but at my height it's a close second.
No drinking. No Sweet Italian Creamer. No spaghetti.
One day I'll slide into my tens again and it will be neat. One day I'll slide on a pair of eights. Then...and then after I'll be a sweet six on a "heavy day" and a glorious four on the regular or on the daily, as the kids say.
I'm writing to tell you this is one fucked up adventure that I apparently am choosing. I'm choosing to challenge myself and take it to the limit. I need to learn to be patient. I need to remember that one can never be too delicious and that's where I'm going. Non stop ticket to DeliciousTown.
June 17 I decided to begin my weight loss adventure with the help of Lindora. So far, so completely shitty. No wine. No beer. (As if they differ and they do...) No whiskey. No vodka and that's even the skinny girl go to. Why in the world am I doing this?
Do I really care if I have a smaller ass and more energy? Smaller ass for no one to touch and give it a go team tap because it's delicious. More energy to wash more dishes or work more hours to make more money to spend it on me? WHO CARES. A size six is just a number, right?
It's quite possibly the best number out there next to a mother fucking four. Six and four are numbers of my "old" pants that I keep in a glass case. No, not to break in case of emergency but more of a shrine. I miss them. I miss feeling little. I miss people staring. Don't get me wrong, they stare now but it's more of an "is she pregnant?" type of stare.
A size 16 is huge. Let's face it. The current revolution of we can be whatever size we are meant to be has got me spinning. I don't wear things that highlight my size. It's rude. That's just how I feel about it. A size 14 isn't as huge but at my height it's a close second.
No drinking. No Sweet Italian Creamer. No spaghetti.
One day I'll slide into my tens again and it will be neat. One day I'll slide on a pair of eights. Then...and then after I'll be a sweet six on a "heavy day" and a glorious four on the regular or on the daily, as the kids say.
I'm writing to tell you this is one fucked up adventure that I apparently am choosing. I'm choosing to challenge myself and take it to the limit. I need to learn to be patient. I need to remember that one can never be too delicious and that's where I'm going. Non stop ticket to DeliciousTown.
Sunday, May 19, 2019
So...
Friday went to my first Quinceanera and had a BLAST! Logan came with me and we ate, laughed, danced, laughed some more and then went home. Saturday went out for Mother's Day with my Mom to dinner and a Prince tribute band. That's all I have to say about that. (Mom's company was unparalleled along with a tasty dinner. The music at the Canyon, however, was iffy...I was angry and not able to enjoy my beloved music by Prince. Ugh...Erotic City cover band should just do covers and not say exclusive Prince music by calling themselves such. I won't say anymore.)
So...
Then I get home and as far as the sixth stair just before the landing and drop. Not a cool mic drop but a very dramatic drop to the floor because you are about to flood the house with your tears of pain. Apparently, you have a good day, then a bad day, then a good day, then a bad day. Rinse and repeat. This process is a surprise at times, too. I wasn't thinking it'd be too devastating to go home at 10pm on a jumping Saturday night. I was thinking how responsible I was and I'd make tea, watch a movie in my favorite jammies and maybe...just maybe paint my nails. But nooooooooo...not tonight sister. Tonight we are going to cry like a mother fucker. ( I just inhaled and exhaled big as I wrote that sentence.)
As I lay there sobbing talking to God, I thought, "Well at least I don't want to kill myself...that's cool. I don't want to put back the liquor or smoke cigarettes, either...also cool."
Dim lights. Cue music. Speed. Action.
Enter God
God: What's up princess? Something got my kid a little down in the dumpsies?
Princess: Nothin...just kickin it in my tears waiting for you to tell me everything is going to be aight.
God: Awww...everything isn't going to be aight, though.
Princess: Huh? What? Are you fricken kidding me?
God: (laughing) Yes and no...it's going to be BETTER than aight, silly.
Princess: Uh huh...sure...you're just saying that cause you have to.
God: Umm no, I actually don't HAVE to say anything
Princess: You know what I mean
God: Yes I do. I know A LOT (chuckling again)
Princess: Ouch!
God: What happened?
Princess: I could literally feel your head getting bigger and it hit me
God: Well you should have ducked
Princess: Seriously, how long does this last? It's the worst pain that can't be stopped and borderline unbearable...I hate asking you for help because I know it's always best to ask how can I help...but I really need something
God: It is going to last as long as you need.
Princess: As long as I need? I don't need this...no one needs this...what the fu...
God: Watch your mouth and you absolutely beyond a shadow of a doubt need to go through this because it's the only way to NOT go through this again. Everybody hurts sometimes...
Princess: Oh Lord
God: Yes?
Princess: Ugh not oh Lord like oh you...it's an oh lawd like all exaggerated because you can't quote REM at a time like this
God: Yes I can
Princess: No you can't
God: Yes I can
Princess: Not now
God: How about now?
Princess: Sheesh...go on...I yield. And spare me the victory trumpets please this one time?
God: Fine. You're no fun when you're lonely...no victory trumpets...lame.
Princess: You just said lame
God: Ya? So? I did make up the word so why not use it
Princess: (laughing) because dude, like you're like...God
God: Like totally for sure I'm like God (head bobbing) except I AM GOD (thunderous show off voice) and did you just dude me?
Princess: No Sir no way I'd EVER dude you...swear (big cheesy grin and then a yelp) hey!
God: Don't swear dumb dumb. It's rude (big amusing laugh)
Princess: Sorry. I thought it was funny
God: It was (grinning)
Princess: So this will go away one day? For real?
God: It already has my sweet girl...get some rest and see you in the morning
Princess: And that's why you're the Man. Good night
I proceeded to crawl to my bed, listen to some sad awesome music including but not limited to, "Say Something," "Without You" and the growing popular diddy of, "Always On My Mind" which all tore me apart. Like Alice Cooper looking makeup running down my eyes with no end in sight.
Flash forward to me pulling it together, checking the house to make sure it's locked, brushing my teeth and removing said makeup. My jammies felt good. My head found the pillow with a thud. We shall do this again tomorrow...this whole waking up thing and it will be good. Oh yes. It will be good.
Friday went to my first Quinceanera and had a BLAST! Logan came with me and we ate, laughed, danced, laughed some more and then went home. Saturday went out for Mother's Day with my Mom to dinner and a Prince tribute band. That's all I have to say about that. (Mom's company was unparalleled along with a tasty dinner. The music at the Canyon, however, was iffy...I was angry and not able to enjoy my beloved music by Prince. Ugh...Erotic City cover band should just do covers and not say exclusive Prince music by calling themselves such. I won't say anymore.)
So...
Then I get home and as far as the sixth stair just before the landing and drop. Not a cool mic drop but a very dramatic drop to the floor because you are about to flood the house with your tears of pain. Apparently, you have a good day, then a bad day, then a good day, then a bad day. Rinse and repeat. This process is a surprise at times, too. I wasn't thinking it'd be too devastating to go home at 10pm on a jumping Saturday night. I was thinking how responsible I was and I'd make tea, watch a movie in my favorite jammies and maybe...just maybe paint my nails. But nooooooooo...not tonight sister. Tonight we are going to cry like a mother fucker. ( I just inhaled and exhaled big as I wrote that sentence.)
As I lay there sobbing talking to God, I thought, "Well at least I don't want to kill myself...that's cool. I don't want to put back the liquor or smoke cigarettes, either...also cool."
Dim lights. Cue music. Speed. Action.
Enter God
God: What's up princess? Something got my kid a little down in the dumpsies?
Princess: Nothin...just kickin it in my tears waiting for you to tell me everything is going to be aight.
God: Awww...everything isn't going to be aight, though.
Princess: Huh? What? Are you fricken kidding me?
God: (laughing) Yes and no...it's going to be BETTER than aight, silly.
Princess: Uh huh...sure...you're just saying that cause you have to.
God: Umm no, I actually don't HAVE to say anything
Princess: You know what I mean
God: Yes I do. I know A LOT (chuckling again)
Princess: Ouch!
God: What happened?
Princess: I could literally feel your head getting bigger and it hit me
God: Well you should have ducked
Princess: Seriously, how long does this last? It's the worst pain that can't be stopped and borderline unbearable...I hate asking you for help because I know it's always best to ask how can I help...but I really need something
God: It is going to last as long as you need.
Princess: As long as I need? I don't need this...no one needs this...what the fu...
God: Watch your mouth and you absolutely beyond a shadow of a doubt need to go through this because it's the only way to NOT go through this again. Everybody hurts sometimes...
Princess: Oh Lord
God: Yes?
Princess: Ugh not oh Lord like oh you...it's an oh lawd like all exaggerated because you can't quote REM at a time like this
God: Yes I can
Princess: No you can't
God: Yes I can
Princess: Not now
God: How about now?
Princess: Sheesh...go on...I yield. And spare me the victory trumpets please this one time?
God: Fine. You're no fun when you're lonely...no victory trumpets...lame.
Princess: You just said lame
God: Ya? So? I did make up the word so why not use it
Princess: (laughing) because dude, like you're like...God
God: Like totally for sure I'm like God (head bobbing) except I AM GOD (thunderous show off voice) and did you just dude me?
Princess: No Sir no way I'd EVER dude you...swear (big cheesy grin and then a yelp) hey!
God: Don't swear dumb dumb. It's rude (big amusing laugh)
Princess: Sorry. I thought it was funny
God: It was (grinning)
Princess: So this will go away one day? For real?
God: It already has my sweet girl...get some rest and see you in the morning
Princess: And that's why you're the Man. Good night
I proceeded to crawl to my bed, listen to some sad awesome music including but not limited to, "Say Something," "Without You" and the growing popular diddy of, "Always On My Mind" which all tore me apart. Like Alice Cooper looking makeup running down my eyes with no end in sight.
Flash forward to me pulling it together, checking the house to make sure it's locked, brushing my teeth and removing said makeup. My jammies felt good. My head found the pillow with a thud. We shall do this again tomorrow...this whole waking up thing and it will be good. Oh yes. It will be good.
Wednesday, May 8, 2019
Go through it
Over the last twenty four hours, I've experienced some fucked up heartache. There. I said it. Experienced. Oh ya the heartache word, too.
Things we go around include traffic, road construction, lines at the buffet and planets, to name a few. We tend to go around heartache, as well. Going through traffic makes sense because otherwise we'll hit something. Going through road construction would also cause us to hit something, come to think of it. Shit, even buffet lines and for sure a big, old planet are really good things to NOT go through. This leaves us with our cute little muscle the heart. ( I want muscle by Diana Ross just played in my head and wanted to make sure you knew this tidbit.)
My adorable 11 ounce muscle has the ability to annihilate (who knew there are two n's in that word) me with one beat. One itty bitty beat and I'm stopped dead in my chucks. I've been walking for a long time...sober and hammered and nothing stops me like this does. I'll be walking, singing a happy tune and then BAM BOOM BONK Batman style my heart goes with a latina accent, of course, "Meha...psst...jou know how jou feel all peppy? Member that time jour man broke up with jou? In case jou forgots, don't worry...I member for both of us" And there it is...my heart is broken.
I'm learning to go through this bitch. Sometimes like a tornado and other times like a big, old sack of potatoes that have already been mashed and left for dead. Not the best analogy but you get the point. Today, I'm going to "member" to write as much as possible and give myself the gifts of knowledge and time. Knowledge in the fact that this too shall pass. Time in the sense of people just need some fucking time.
Like right now sounds like a good time for a latte. And yes, to my reader's that's straight up code for a shot or three. It is after 5pm somewhere, right?
Things we go around include traffic, road construction, lines at the buffet and planets, to name a few. We tend to go around heartache, as well. Going through traffic makes sense because otherwise we'll hit something. Going through road construction would also cause us to hit something, come to think of it. Shit, even buffet lines and for sure a big, old planet are really good things to NOT go through. This leaves us with our cute little muscle the heart. ( I want muscle by Diana Ross just played in my head and wanted to make sure you knew this tidbit.)
My adorable 11 ounce muscle has the ability to annihilate (who knew there are two n's in that word) me with one beat. One itty bitty beat and I'm stopped dead in my chucks. I've been walking for a long time...sober and hammered and nothing stops me like this does. I'll be walking, singing a happy tune and then BAM BOOM BONK Batman style my heart goes with a latina accent, of course, "Meha...psst...jou know how jou feel all peppy? Member that time jour man broke up with jou? In case jou forgots, don't worry...I member for both of us" And there it is...my heart is broken.
I'm learning to go through this bitch. Sometimes like a tornado and other times like a big, old sack of potatoes that have already been mashed and left for dead. Not the best analogy but you get the point. Today, I'm going to "member" to write as much as possible and give myself the gifts of knowledge and time. Knowledge in the fact that this too shall pass. Time in the sense of people just need some fucking time.
Like right now sounds like a good time for a latte. And yes, to my reader's that's straight up code for a shot or three. It is after 5pm somewhere, right?
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Mango
Dear Mutha Fucken Diary,
It's a Tuesday and I promise to be true to me. I promise to be happy. I promise to tell someone that we don't work well together FOR REALSIES. I promise to tell everyone about mixing a dark beer with a Mango Margarita.
Sincerely,
Well....us.
love you love us
It's a Tuesday and I promise to be true to me. I promise to be happy. I promise to tell someone that we don't work well together FOR REALSIES. I promise to tell everyone about mixing a dark beer with a Mango Margarita.
Sincerely,
Well....us.
love you love us
