“I’ve only kicked one person in my entire life.”
“That can’t be true, you were kicking your mom before you were even born.”
“Exactly, who did you THINK I was talking about?”
Welcome to my morning, after a nice breakfast sandwich, a coffee and about an hour long cry, things seemed to settle into place. Even getting my coffee was a learning experience.
“What about your girlfriend, doesn’t she want a coffee too?” Barista at Starbucks
“No, she is only pro-gas station coffee. She won’t drink this stuff.” Good looking dude in front of me.
The guy leaves and my favorite barista says to me “You know, I should really go into giving people therapy. He’s been coming in here for years and is very particular on his coffee. Doesn’t he see that this gas station coffee thing is going to trickle down into other parts of their relationship?”
I nod, smile, and think. Think, I’m always thinking.
The message to Jim this morning “I’m an emotional wreck”. I get to work his response, “Well, which way is the wreck heading today?” There wasn’t a good answer, but there was a very good response, “On track, no derailments allowed.”
Then we got on tangents, about how men have too much pride to realize sometimes they can hurt feelings. We talked about wanting to give up and run away from problems, then we talked about football.
What do I know about football, let me think. Nothing except there is the kicker, and he’s got a stressful job. Just like in the big Clemson game a few weeks ago, the kicker choked, and choked again. He didn’t run away though, his team would have thought him a coward and that would be the end of his career. The kicker kept kicking, even though he was having a bad day. Who knows why, he just did. He wouldn’t have been put on a team with that sort of reputation if he wasn’t good at kicking at least ONCE in his life. It wasn’t like they picked a random dude out of the horticulture department and said “Hey, dude, come kick for us.”
That kicker kept kicking. After the game, did he give up kicking all together because it suddenly became “too hard” or because “he sucked” or because he was booed at. No. My guess is he went home, tail between legs and practiced even harder. He knew he had it in him, he just didn’t have it at that time.
I forgot to keep on kicking this morning. I was reminded I’ve been through some ridiculously tough times in life, and although I wanted to quit kicking, I didn’t. I kept on, I still miss the field goal but I keep kicking. One day, I’m telling you, one day I’m going to kick that field goal and then, well, bam, I’ll have it.
This is important why you ask?
*insert plug for book here*
Because my book, the Noodle, The Noose, and the Nectar is about kicking. I didn’t realize it until this morning, but I wrote an entire book about kicking.
So my advice to you, keep kicking, oh and read my book.
I sit confused in life wondering where the path that supposed to lead me in the appropriate direction is. Is it this difficult for everybody. My gut says run away and try again, my brain says I’m too smart for that. I find myself in very interesting situation that I remember from years past, I don’t want to go home.
It’s not the fact that I don’t love home an that’s where I belong, it’s just the feeling of wanting to be by myself. Alone, no static. No questions or answers. Just me, and Zips, and a dark rainy night. The same types of nights I used to get in my non water tight purple punk mobile and tear through the back roads of Pickens County. The same rainy nights that I would find myself driving up sheridan road along the shore of Lake Michigan. Rainy nights and headlights.
Each set of headlights, to me at least, reminds me that I’m not alone in the world. There may or may not be another lost girl out there driving through the rain hoping for the path to blow wide open for her. Is it going to happen anytime soon, probably not. But then what’s wrong with this path that I’m on now. I just need to have more confidence in myself.
Chin up, chest out, toughen up, damn it. You’re a weed.
There was once a time that I could sit and listen to the same album over and over. A few come to mind more than others, Pink Floyd had an amazing one called “meddle” that I could sit and listen to until my ears grew weary. Something about the melodic tones and the fact that it wasn’t main stream The Wall business that everybody else thought was the bees knees.
I’d listen to it, of course having favorites, but one song sticks out still to this day, Echoes…
“Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can”
It special enough that I would song along without even thinking twice as to what the philosophical meaning of it was, or really if it mattered. It does matter, and it does make sense, at least to those who struggle on a regular basis with self identity.
You see, meeting a stranger in the street is no different than looking into the mirror with a distortion of ugliness and bad self perception. In most circumstances you’d probably feel safe talking to a stranger in the street than actually taking the time to see what your own self talk is. By self talk I mean what you really think, not what you think other people want you to think.
If you were, however, to happen Upon yourself in a street and realize that it’s actually you talking to you (sounds bizarre) would you talk the same way you would as if it were somebody else? What do strangers actually give to us as far as self development goes? Are we really just longing to be all the strangers we see in life.
Tough enough, I’m struggling, but keeping my head up, when those lyrics came to mind. It was a crucial moment, due to the fact that I was being greeted by an old friend of mine, on that may not have gone on a few dates with me. This in fact was awesome, I saw him, I saw his new wife and wiggling baby. I don’t want any of those things. Although that attractive young lady was kind of in a position that I could have found myself in, she was still a stranger. I didn’t want to be her.
I did, however, want to ask her a bazillion questions, not to be nosy, but to learn what it’s like being married with a child and such. Being married to that particular individual must make her pretty happy, and although she is a stranger to me, she is like me, but different.
Cut the ramblings short, I think if people were to take a moment, set down the preconceived notions of right and wrong looks, behaviors, attitudes, etc, and find out what’s really going on behind the scenes, the world would be a more interesting place.
I for one am struggling, not only with self, but with my car. He’s intent on becoming an E36 M3 in estoril blue. As much as I try to tell him no, he doesn’t get it. Then I realized it’s just like me wanting to be gorgeous, but I just don’t get it. He’s a 30 year old car that has issues, I’m a 30 year old girl that has issues. We go well together, although, I don’t want to be estoril blue.
I’m bouncing off every single wall and tree and flat surface that I can find. I received the email this morning saying that my book is now available for purchase on Amazon.
Hold on, let me catch my breath.
This doesn’t just make a big deal for me, this makes a big deal for everybody out there. Think about it, chances are you or somebody you know is struggling with some inner demon but don’t know why. This book is targeted at eating disorders in general, but can easily be transferred over the realm of addiction, recovery, relationship improvements, and well, you get to read interesting stories about me.
Let me know what you think from the sample, and I’d love to answer any questions/comments/concerns you might have.
Happy reading, y’all.
Then I wait some more. It’s actually okay though, I feel like I’ve got a strong head on my shoulders and am ready to bulldoze through the obstacles that are fixing to present themselves to me. Outta my way, I say, I’m going to make progress.
Progress for me, right now, is in the form of realizing that I have been sitting on a book that I have poured my heart and soul into and haven’t done a lick of work to try to get it out to the masses. After sitting here fighting with the “user friendly” self publishing program through Kindle, I’m only 12 hours away from having my book MY BOOK, online and ready for the world to read. I’m not sure exactly how much that means, and truth be told if I see that just one person reads my book it’ll tickle me to pieces. There were a few revisions that I wanted to make, but then again, I didn’t seem them being absolutely necessary.
I do want to give thanks where thanks is due, the one and only photographer (actually kind of by default cause he sent me a wicked cool picture and I decided it’d be perfect – in a metaphysical way of how our minds change gears just like a transmission.
Thanks also goes to those that have stuck with me through my ups and downs. Most notably, the ever handsome Mr. Bee.
I’d also like to thank the academy….(joking).
Most of all I’d like to thank Zips, my buddy that always smiles, never lets me down and doesn’t mind to get a bit crazy with me at times. We’re not great influences on each other at times, but we still hang.
It’s a crappy picture, yet, something about it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. As much as I hate to admit it I am, in fact, from this great state, Wisconsin. Although as I’m here now, I feel about as disconnected with it as ever. It’s not necessarily a bad disconnect, it’s more like hanging up on bad phone call and realizing, “whew, I thought that’d never end”
The end, actually is a beginning for me. As stupid as it sounds to most people, driving five hours across Michigan to simple have dinner with my mom and burn shit with my sister was about the best therapy I could have ever asked for. Being here, it’s teaching me that the person I was when I was here is an entirely different person than who I am now. I’m happy about that, I really am.
I’m able to enjoy the simplest things in life like bad fortunes in fortune cookie and burning shit, but at the same time I can’t stop at that. I must adventure on to find out what life is really all about. It doesn’t stop after you come to a conclusion after reading your fortune cookie, it begins when you realize you don’t need a fortune cookie to tell you what you want in life.
What is it that I want? Acceptance, worldwide acceptance of everybody for everybody. In other words, just let me be me and you be you and live on. Who’s to say that what makes one person happy is wrong? My sister likes to burn shit, hell, so do I and if I could do so more often I might get out aggression. I have a friend that likes to sing at bars, good for her.
Me. I like to adventure, both physically and mentally. The only way to push your comfort zone is to accept that the comfort zone you’re used to is only there because others have conditioned you to be that way. Like saying you’re afraid of skydiving, how the heck do you know unless you try?
Personally, I love skydiving. It’s almost like setting your body free in the air.