Why I’m scared of big birds. Do not take this statement to mean I’m scared of Big Bird from Sesame Street, him I am not afraid of. He taught me my ABC’s and how to place nice with others. Mostly it is the water fowl with the long legs that hold my terror. I like eagles, and hawks; I have no problem with ducks; but a bird with long legs, those I want nothing to do with. It all started one fateful day when I was around ten. I will tell the story to the best of my ability but time and fear may have impacted how I remember the events.
I had to collect butterflies for a school project, I am sure most middle schoolers had to do something similar, collect butterflies and pin them to a corkboard. I always felt that this was a little bit like torture, but that is neither here nor there. Back to the story, I go to a pond somewhat close to my house. Like most rural ponds it was surrounded by weeds. I was poking my way around, when I heard the weeds rustle. I stopped, waiting to see what would emerge being a semi country girl I was not overly worried. I’ve encounters my fair share of wild animals, I knew that for the most part they are more scared of me than I of them.
For a moment there was silence, and then the most hideous squawking began. It startled me, but not enough to make me run, I stood there, waiting. Innocent and unknowing. More rustling and squawking occurred, I took a step back, as I did this long legged feathered creature came out of the brush. If I was an Ornithologist I would have recognized it as a blue heron, being that I wasn’t and only a child I thought it was something from a nightmare. It stood as tall as me, which granted at that point wasn’t that tall, but intimidating none-the-less, it had long spindly legs, a long neck, beady eyes and a pointed beak. It stood there squawking and flapping its wings at me, science has proven that humans when faced with danger have a fight or flight response. I chose fight, and I swung the butterfly net I was still holding at it. This was not the correct response. Instead of intimating the bird to leave me alone it charged at me, wings flapping, beak squawking and head bobbing. So I tried the other option, flight. I dropped my butterfly net, the one that had offended the bird, and RAN. This bird, this long legged, feathers ruffled, squawking bird CHASED ME. In my mind I ran for miles, but realistically it was probably only a few feet. When I realized I was no longer being chased, I stopped, turned around and looked. The bird was standing there, waiting to see what my next move would be. I thought briefly of going back for my butterfly net, as I would need it to complete my project, then I realized I wasn’t expected to do well in school, so screw the project. That bird was scary and I was going home. As far as I can recall, I never went back to that pond. And my fear of birds with long legs was firmly established.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Truths
I have always kept thoughts to myself, while often brutally honest I have a hard time saying/doing things that will hurt others or put myself at risk(emotionally vulnerable). Yet sometimes it’s hard to not state what I think. Here are some of my thoughts to some of the people that I interact with.
If you have sexted or made actual plans to cheat, you are a cheater; even if you never played I put my dick in it. Don’t try to cover it up with pretty words and insignificant justifications. You don’t love your wife nearly as much as you claim to. If you did, you wouldn’t think with your dick. You have already betrayed her. Someday she is going to find out what type of person you are, best be prepared.
I dislike you, and have no clue why I continue to talk to you. You bring drama to my life, which I don’t need. You remind me of things best left buried in the closet. You don’t know me, even though you pretend to. You use me, even though you say you are not. You have nothing useful to offer me; I’m done with this whole thing.
I’m really confused by you. I don’t get what is going on. I have tried to just go with the flow, but the thing is, I think I could fall for you. And I’m trying hard not to. I don’t know if you like me, in that way. I don’t know that you are willing to catch me if I fall. Yet sometimes I think you would. You make me laugh, and you make me feel safe. I think I could tell my secrets to you. Yet I won’t, you confuse me, I don’t know if I can trust you. I don’t know what this is, and I’m too scared to ask.
Your children learn from watching you. If you are mean to them, they will be mean to you. If you ignore them, they will ignore you. If you beat them, they will abuse you. They will learn from you, so if you don’t like how they are, then change how you are. End of story.
If you wanted to be here, you would be here. Stop making excuses.
I miss you, every day. I miss talking with you, laughing with you, hanging out with you trips, I miss our inside jokes, I miss our randomness, I miss existing with you. I miss the fact that you knew me, understood me, and loved me. I miss the way you would look at me, and the way you would tease me, and the way I could be me around you. I miss your humor, and your smile, I miss your strength and your gentleness. If there is anything in my life I could change, it is the one night that ruined it. If I could figure out how to undo what has been done, I would. It makes me sad that we can’t figure out a way to move forward.
You wonder why I don’t share with you, let me clue you in. It is because when I needed you, you weren’t there. You called on me to help you time and time again, yet never had time to listen to me. So no, I don’t trust you, and I’m not going to turn to you when I need help.
You are settling and you know it. You are afraid of being alone, so you are clinging to whatever comes your way. You are never going to find happiness that way. If you love her, then stop looking for someone ‘better’ to come along. If you sincerely think there is someone better out there, then leave her. You are
If you have sexted or made actual plans to cheat, you are a cheater; even if you never played I put my dick in it. Don’t try to cover it up with pretty words and insignificant justifications. You don’t love your wife nearly as much as you claim to. If you did, you wouldn’t think with your dick. You have already betrayed her. Someday she is going to find out what type of person you are, best be prepared.
I dislike you, and have no clue why I continue to talk to you. You bring drama to my life, which I don’t need. You remind me of things best left buried in the closet. You don’t know me, even though you pretend to. You use me, even though you say you are not. You have nothing useful to offer me; I’m done with this whole thing.
I’m really confused by you. I don’t get what is going on. I have tried to just go with the flow, but the thing is, I think I could fall for you. And I’m trying hard not to. I don’t know if you like me, in that way. I don’t know that you are willing to catch me if I fall. Yet sometimes I think you would. You make me laugh, and you make me feel safe. I think I could tell my secrets to you. Yet I won’t, you confuse me, I don’t know if I can trust you. I don’t know what this is, and I’m too scared to ask.
Your children learn from watching you. If you are mean to them, they will be mean to you. If you ignore them, they will ignore you. If you beat them, they will abuse you. They will learn from you, so if you don’t like how they are, then change how you are. End of story.
If you wanted to be here, you would be here. Stop making excuses.
I miss you, every day. I miss talking with you, laughing with you, hanging out with you trips, I miss our inside jokes, I miss our randomness, I miss existing with you. I miss the fact that you knew me, understood me, and loved me. I miss the way you would look at me, and the way you would tease me, and the way I could be me around you. I miss your humor, and your smile, I miss your strength and your gentleness. If there is anything in my life I could change, it is the one night that ruined it. If I could figure out how to undo what has been done, I would. It makes me sad that we can’t figure out a way to move forward.
You wonder why I don’t share with you, let me clue you in. It is because when I needed you, you weren’t there. You called on me to help you time and time again, yet never had time to listen to me. So no, I don’t trust you, and I’m not going to turn to you when I need help.
You are settling and you know it. You are afraid of being alone, so you are clinging to whatever comes your way. You are never going to find happiness that way. If you love her, then stop looking for someone ‘better’ to come along. If you sincerely think there is someone better out there, then leave her. You are
Monday, February 14, 2011
Love
Ahh love, it is in the air. You watch the commercials and go the store and you can feel cupid breathing down your neck like a stalker. Some will say that we shouldn’t show our love only on Valentine’s Day, some will say it’s a Hallmark holiday. I don’t disagree, per se. Yet there is something sweet about devoting one day a year devoting your attention to your beloved. Sometimes we all need that reminder to make us feel special.
Love is a mixed bag of nuts where I am concerned. I have yet to figure out a way to put into words how I feel about it. So I am going to use some of my favorite love quotes to speak for me. Where ever you are, whomever you might be. May cupid’s arrow be kind.
You make me understand how wonderful it is for little lizards when they find that one special rock that’s perfect for sunning themselves on. You make me feel lizard – happy. Randy K. Milholland
I like you. You’re funny and nicely shaped. And frankly, it’s ludicrous to have those interlocking bodies and not interlock. Please remove your clothing now. Joss Whedon
When I think that something could happen to you, it feels bad inside, like I might vomit. Joss Whedon
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense. Mark Overtsy
For it was not my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul. Judy Garldand
Love is everything it’s cracked up to be… It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. Erica Jong
Passion makes the world go round. Love just makes it a safer place. Ice T
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night the ice weasels come. Matt Groening
Love isn’t a decision. It’s a feeling. If we could decide who we loved, it would be much simpler, but much less magical. Trey Parker and Matt Stone
Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house, you can never tell. Joan Crawford.
There is a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they cannot get away. Unknown
It is only possible to live happily ever after on a day to day basis. Margaret Bonnano
Love is a mixed bag of nuts where I am concerned. I have yet to figure out a way to put into words how I feel about it. So I am going to use some of my favorite love quotes to speak for me. Where ever you are, whomever you might be. May cupid’s arrow be kind.
You make me understand how wonderful it is for little lizards when they find that one special rock that’s perfect for sunning themselves on. You make me feel lizard – happy. Randy K. Milholland
I like you. You’re funny and nicely shaped. And frankly, it’s ludicrous to have those interlocking bodies and not interlock. Please remove your clothing now. Joss Whedon
When I think that something could happen to you, it feels bad inside, like I might vomit. Joss Whedon
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense. Mark Overtsy
For it was not my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul. Judy Garldand
Love is everything it’s cracked up to be… It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. Erica Jong
Passion makes the world go round. Love just makes it a safer place. Ice T
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night the ice weasels come. Matt Groening
Love isn’t a decision. It’s a feeling. If we could decide who we loved, it would be much simpler, but much less magical. Trey Parker and Matt Stone
Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house, you can never tell. Joan Crawford.
There is a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they cannot get away. Unknown
It is only possible to live happily ever after on a day to day basis. Margaret Bonnano
Friday, February 11, 2011
We do not eat Dairy Cows
A friend and mine were talking the other day and he brought up an interesting point, why does Chick-fil-A use Dairy Cows in their advertising? For those of you not familiar, their promotions are Dairy Cows stating ‘save the cows, eat more chicken.’ I’m no cow expert, though I am from the Dairy State, but normally Dairy Cows are not where beef comes from. I’m not saying that when old Bessie dries up she isn’t made into yummy Manwich sandwiches, but the majority of beef comes from beef cattle. So eating more chicken will not have any real benefit for Dairy Cows. Did someone in marketing not understand the difference in cows, did they think Dairy cows were cuter then beef cows? I ask, why are they using them for their advertising? I think we need to get a petition together to ask them to stop using Dairy cows and start showing nice big Longhorn Cattle instead.
Why do people feel it’s necessary to ask every time they have seen me how the job hunt is going and if I have found a job yet? Here is a little hint, if I get a job, everyone will know, it will not be one of the secrets that I keep. As a matter of fact, when I get a job, there will probably be some type of booty dance involved. So no worries, word will get out, you do not need to continuously ask. Also, if you have ever had to hunt for a job, you know that it is a painfully slow process. It’s boring and annoying and frustrating. When you ask how it is going, do you want me to lament about how it’s boring, annoying and frustrating? About how I’ve applied to over 50 places and have not heard back from the majority of them? Cause I can, but I’m guessing you don’t want to hear that. So do us a both a favor and don’t ask these questions. If any funny stories occur I will share, if I job offer comes in, I will share. No need to ask, I will share. I share.
Moving on, why in all the cute cat pictures do they have writing that implies the while cat can talk; it can’t write or speak normal English? It is always ‘youz stole my cookie’ or ‘Ize so cute’. If they are smart enough to talk, I think they would have the ability to talk in English, not some weird broken down uneducated version of it. Especially since there are pictures of babies with machine guns, smoking cigars stating ‘I’m going to kill you Mother Fucker.’ If a baby can handle the concept of English, why can a cat not. I mean I am all for animals having personality, but let’s draw a line and state they can speak English. As a matter of fact all my pets have personalities. Farley is a Surfer dude, laid back and relaxed. He’s thoughts often run along the lines of ‘Whoa, dude, let’s go outside and smell around’ or ‘I’m just chilling on the bed.’ Lou on the other hand is a five year old boy who has eaten too much Halloween Candy. ‘I’m going to run over here, no I’m going to run over there, no wait I’m going to go chew on Farley’s ear.’ Gabby is a prima donna who doesn’t understand why people are not devoting their whole life to adoring her ‘I’m sleeping, why are you not petting me, the dogs are too close, adore me.’ And Perrin is a curmudgeonly man who hates everyone. He sits in his little home, hissing at everyone that comes by stating ‘you put one hand on my turf and I will shoot if off.’ So I’m all for personalities of animals, but the cute cats that talk uneducated English are annoying.
This next part is not really my story. But I love it so much I am compelled to share it, I may not fully remember the conversation clearly, but this is the jist. We are in the bar, chilling out, when Dan comes back from the bathroom and states ‘I’m going to the bathroom when I hear someone walk out the stall without flushing. I craned my neck around to get a look at the guy who didn’t flush as he washed his hands. After I finished my business I went to the stall to verify that he didn’t flush, and true enough there was kids in the pool that he had dropped off.’ As Dan is telling this story he is looking around the bar, to find the guy who shit and didn’t flush. He sees him at the bar.
Points at him and states loudly, ‘That’s the guy, that’s the guy that took a shit in the bar and didn’t flush’
Poo Guy: ‘Wasn’t me’
Dan: ‘No, it was, I saw you. You shit and didn’t flush. Were you just in the bathroom?’
Poo Guy: ‘Well yes, a bit ago, but it wasn’t me’
Dan: ‘Dude, you took a shit in the bar bathroom and didn’t flush. What kind of person does that?’
Guy totally ends up flustered. Thank you, Dan, for being my hero. For calling out the person who doesn’t bother to flush the toilet when they are done. We need more people like you in the world.
Why do people feel it’s necessary to ask every time they have seen me how the job hunt is going and if I have found a job yet? Here is a little hint, if I get a job, everyone will know, it will not be one of the secrets that I keep. As a matter of fact, when I get a job, there will probably be some type of booty dance involved. So no worries, word will get out, you do not need to continuously ask. Also, if you have ever had to hunt for a job, you know that it is a painfully slow process. It’s boring and annoying and frustrating. When you ask how it is going, do you want me to lament about how it’s boring, annoying and frustrating? About how I’ve applied to over 50 places and have not heard back from the majority of them? Cause I can, but I’m guessing you don’t want to hear that. So do us a both a favor and don’t ask these questions. If any funny stories occur I will share, if I job offer comes in, I will share. No need to ask, I will share. I share.
Moving on, why in all the cute cat pictures do they have writing that implies the while cat can talk; it can’t write or speak normal English? It is always ‘youz stole my cookie’ or ‘Ize so cute’. If they are smart enough to talk, I think they would have the ability to talk in English, not some weird broken down uneducated version of it. Especially since there are pictures of babies with machine guns, smoking cigars stating ‘I’m going to kill you Mother Fucker.’ If a baby can handle the concept of English, why can a cat not. I mean I am all for animals having personality, but let’s draw a line and state they can speak English. As a matter of fact all my pets have personalities. Farley is a Surfer dude, laid back and relaxed. He’s thoughts often run along the lines of ‘Whoa, dude, let’s go outside and smell around’ or ‘I’m just chilling on the bed.’ Lou on the other hand is a five year old boy who has eaten too much Halloween Candy. ‘I’m going to run over here, no I’m going to run over there, no wait I’m going to go chew on Farley’s ear.’ Gabby is a prima donna who doesn’t understand why people are not devoting their whole life to adoring her ‘I’m sleeping, why are you not petting me, the dogs are too close, adore me.’ And Perrin is a curmudgeonly man who hates everyone. He sits in his little home, hissing at everyone that comes by stating ‘you put one hand on my turf and I will shoot if off.’ So I’m all for personalities of animals, but the cute cats that talk uneducated English are annoying.
This next part is not really my story. But I love it so much I am compelled to share it, I may not fully remember the conversation clearly, but this is the jist. We are in the bar, chilling out, when Dan comes back from the bathroom and states ‘I’m going to the bathroom when I hear someone walk out the stall without flushing. I craned my neck around to get a look at the guy who didn’t flush as he washed his hands. After I finished my business I went to the stall to verify that he didn’t flush, and true enough there was kids in the pool that he had dropped off.’ As Dan is telling this story he is looking around the bar, to find the guy who shit and didn’t flush. He sees him at the bar.
Points at him and states loudly, ‘That’s the guy, that’s the guy that took a shit in the bar and didn’t flush’
Poo Guy: ‘Wasn’t me’
Dan: ‘No, it was, I saw you. You shit and didn’t flush. Were you just in the bathroom?’
Poo Guy: ‘Well yes, a bit ago, but it wasn’t me’
Dan: ‘Dude, you took a shit in the bar bathroom and didn’t flush. What kind of person does that?’
Guy totally ends up flustered. Thank you, Dan, for being my hero. For calling out the person who doesn’t bother to flush the toilet when they are done. We need more people like you in the world.
Laid Bare
I have never been good at expressing my deepest thoughts and feelings. I’m not good with one on one relationship, not when they matter. The ratio between how well I will do with sharing to how important the relationship is equals Pi. I would rather stand in front of a crowd and amuse them then try and make a real connection in the world. Which is why I find this blog so nice, it is about amusing a bunch of strangers and a few friends. Maybe that is why I find it easier to write down my thoughts and feelings, those deep murky places that live inside of me. As a wiser man than me stated ‘I write because I am too afraid to say some things out loud.’ Very few people know me, the real me. I am an excellent story teller, but few ever see the hidden depths of my stories. I have layers upon layers of complexity in me, but the very basic core of which I am is all very simple. I’m just a girl wanting to be loved. So here are some of my secrets that have eaten away at me. Sometimes I think they are all that I am, yet I’m beginning to believe I am so much more than these things.
I have been so desperate for love that I have forgiven inappropriate touching, a sexual attack, physical, emotional and mental abuse in hopes that I would be loved. I thought that if I forgave them they would love me and treat me right. That if I loved them, they would learn how to love me. For the longest time it never dawned on me that first I needed to be desperate enough to love myself and not forgive those that do harm. That letting people abuse me would not make them love me. That their abusing me was not a form of love. I never understood the concept of loving myself enough to not put up with it.
I am by nature optimistic; I believe that people are inherently good, that when push comes to shove they will do what is right. Yet I feel that people will for whatever reason hurt me. I am often road kill on their way to their happiness. I have yet to figure out why this happens. Though I do spend good portions of my time creating theories. Sometimes I think it is karma, to make up for all the bad things I have done, except I’m not sure what bad things I have done to deserve this life. Other times I think that bad things just happen. And sometimes I have no answer at all.
I lost a baby, which is one of the dumbest phrases ever. I didn’t lose him (yes in my secret heart I think of him as a him), it’s not like losing a set of keys or your homework, where you just need to retrace your steps to find the missing item. My body betrayed me, didn’t do what it was suppose to; create a warm nurturing environment for him to grow. It devastated me. Broke me in ways that nothing else could. If I knew all the words in the dictionary I still would not have the vocabulary to explain. Yet from that, I found something. Myself. It was a long process of staring into the darkness and deciding to turn, walk away to find the light.
I have at various points been diagnosed as being manic depressive, having anxiety, OCD and ADD. Every day is a struggle within my brain. I don’t think they way others do, I don’t feel the way others do. I don’t see the world the way others do. These are neither bad nor good statements, they are merely statements. Yet for whatever reason I have been at various times in my life suicidal. I haven’t escaped suicide because I found faith or something to live for, I didn’t have a moment where I was too scared to die, I didn’t have someone rush in at the last moment before I took action to save me. (Though I did have someone reach out to me once when I was drowning in the darkness, and he is forever in my heart). Every time I sank that low I didn’t commit suicide because I was terrified that the ones I loved the most would not care if I was dead. That I would die as unloved as I felt. So I didn’t in the hopes that someday they would love me as much as I love them. Even when I’m not suicidal, even on my best of days, I worry that I am unlovable. This is my biggest fear, more than snakes, more than being homeless, more than anything in this world or the next I worry that I will be unloved. Which means I reject all those that do love me, and hold myself separate from them.
I am a complex contradiction of emotions. I feel that I am worthless and have no value, at the same time I am incredibly narcissistic and believe that I have the power to control things, and that I am the center of everything. These contradictions often leave me confused and unable to figure out how to move forward. How does one live with the belief that they are worth nothing, yet everything revolves around them? It creates anxiety in me, as I feel that I am required to fix everything yet I don’t know how. I constantly feel like I am letting down everyone.
I eat to hide. I drink to remember to feel. I get lost in imagination.
I tell the truth. I may at times avoid a conversation, but I don’t lie. I may sidestep a question, misdirect your attention. But I don’t lie. Except I do lie. I lie to those that have hurt me, those that I still love. I lie to them all the time. I am nothing but a huge liar when it comes to them. I tell them it’s ok. I tell them it’s forgiven. I tell them what they need to hear so they are not upset. I lie. It’s not ok. They have wounded me. They have disappointed me. They have abandoned me. I have not forgiven and I have not forgotten.
I have been so desperate for love that I have forgiven inappropriate touching, a sexual attack, physical, emotional and mental abuse in hopes that I would be loved. I thought that if I forgave them they would love me and treat me right. That if I loved them, they would learn how to love me. For the longest time it never dawned on me that first I needed to be desperate enough to love myself and not forgive those that do harm. That letting people abuse me would not make them love me. That their abusing me was not a form of love. I never understood the concept of loving myself enough to not put up with it.
I am by nature optimistic; I believe that people are inherently good, that when push comes to shove they will do what is right. Yet I feel that people will for whatever reason hurt me. I am often road kill on their way to their happiness. I have yet to figure out why this happens. Though I do spend good portions of my time creating theories. Sometimes I think it is karma, to make up for all the bad things I have done, except I’m not sure what bad things I have done to deserve this life. Other times I think that bad things just happen. And sometimes I have no answer at all.
I lost a baby, which is one of the dumbest phrases ever. I didn’t lose him (yes in my secret heart I think of him as a him), it’s not like losing a set of keys or your homework, where you just need to retrace your steps to find the missing item. My body betrayed me, didn’t do what it was suppose to; create a warm nurturing environment for him to grow. It devastated me. Broke me in ways that nothing else could. If I knew all the words in the dictionary I still would not have the vocabulary to explain. Yet from that, I found something. Myself. It was a long process of staring into the darkness and deciding to turn, walk away to find the light.
I have at various points been diagnosed as being manic depressive, having anxiety, OCD and ADD. Every day is a struggle within my brain. I don’t think they way others do, I don’t feel the way others do. I don’t see the world the way others do. These are neither bad nor good statements, they are merely statements. Yet for whatever reason I have been at various times in my life suicidal. I haven’t escaped suicide because I found faith or something to live for, I didn’t have a moment where I was too scared to die, I didn’t have someone rush in at the last moment before I took action to save me. (Though I did have someone reach out to me once when I was drowning in the darkness, and he is forever in my heart). Every time I sank that low I didn’t commit suicide because I was terrified that the ones I loved the most would not care if I was dead. That I would die as unloved as I felt. So I didn’t in the hopes that someday they would love me as much as I love them. Even when I’m not suicidal, even on my best of days, I worry that I am unlovable. This is my biggest fear, more than snakes, more than being homeless, more than anything in this world or the next I worry that I will be unloved. Which means I reject all those that do love me, and hold myself separate from them.
I am a complex contradiction of emotions. I feel that I am worthless and have no value, at the same time I am incredibly narcissistic and believe that I have the power to control things, and that I am the center of everything. These contradictions often leave me confused and unable to figure out how to move forward. How does one live with the belief that they are worth nothing, yet everything revolves around them? It creates anxiety in me, as I feel that I am required to fix everything yet I don’t know how. I constantly feel like I am letting down everyone.
I eat to hide. I drink to remember to feel. I get lost in imagination.
I tell the truth. I may at times avoid a conversation, but I don’t lie. I may sidestep a question, misdirect your attention. But I don’t lie. Except I do lie. I lie to those that have hurt me, those that I still love. I lie to them all the time. I am nothing but a huge liar when it comes to them. I tell them it’s ok. I tell them it’s forgiven. I tell them what they need to hear so they are not upset. I lie. It’s not ok. They have wounded me. They have disappointed me. They have abandoned me. I have not forgiven and I have not forgotten.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Long Goodbye
My family makes leaving an Olympic event; you need stamina and training to do it. We don’t just leave; we amble, linger, dillydally and tarry our way out the door. We have whole conversations instead of a simple good bye. It is well known that if you want to leave at 1, you best start saying goodbyes around 12. The amount of time needed to say goodbye is a complex formula. Take the length of time since you have last seen each other. Divide by the amount of children or other family members waiting to leave. Times that by the wind-chill or humidity factor outside. Factor in the importance of the next to do item you have to leave for. Add the importance of the event (such as wedding, funeral, Fourth of July, second Sunday of the month). Times that by the odds of seeing each other within the next month. This will give you a rough estimate of the time needed for a goodbye. Other factors can come into play, if two people are saying goodbye to the same person, length can either increase or decrease in proportion to the relationship of everyone involved.
Now I have recognized that not everyone can leave this way, most people seem to say, bye, catch ya later and walk out the door. I do not know how to do that. So instead if I want a ‘normal’ goodbye I feel the need to say BYE and scuttle out the door like a cockroach running from the light. I’m told that this makes people feel awkward and uncomfortable. I’m not a fan of it myself; I need at least 20 minutes to part ways. Anything less than that and I feel fractured, drifted, at a loss. Yet most don’t want to give me the 20 minutes I need, they get frustrated and are politely shoving me towards the door so they can slam it in my face. I have yet to figure out how to explain to them that I do not do quick goodbyes. That my wanting to linger is a testament to what they mean to me or a testament to my genetics.
Tidbits about me:
I eat my macaroni and cheese with potato chips.
I cannot sleep with any body part hanging off the bed. I think I never outgrew my fear of the monster under the bed.
I have an active and vivid imagination. Often when I am in that gray time between sleep and awake my imagination punishes me. It sends me imagines of snakes, often giant, man-eating snakes that are going to gobble me whole. I’m terrified of snakes, small ones, big ones… they are all the same to me. They send shivers up my spine, goose bumps up my arms; they steal my breath and my voice. During that gray time, my brain sends them to me. When this happens I make my brain send polar bears in. Big fat, fluffy mean polar bears. Polar bears make the snakes go away. Moral: Polar Bears beat snakes and I’m crazy.
I dislike raisins. I feel they are dead grapes and do not understand why people eat them.
Ed Norton pisses me off. His mere existence raises my blood pressure and makes me want to rage against the world. Writing that statement makes me want to punch kittens in their adorable faces.
Now I have recognized that not everyone can leave this way, most people seem to say, bye, catch ya later and walk out the door. I do not know how to do that. So instead if I want a ‘normal’ goodbye I feel the need to say BYE and scuttle out the door like a cockroach running from the light. I’m told that this makes people feel awkward and uncomfortable. I’m not a fan of it myself; I need at least 20 minutes to part ways. Anything less than that and I feel fractured, drifted, at a loss. Yet most don’t want to give me the 20 minutes I need, they get frustrated and are politely shoving me towards the door so they can slam it in my face. I have yet to figure out how to explain to them that I do not do quick goodbyes. That my wanting to linger is a testament to what they mean to me or a testament to my genetics.
Tidbits about me:
I eat my macaroni and cheese with potato chips.
I cannot sleep with any body part hanging off the bed. I think I never outgrew my fear of the monster under the bed.
I have an active and vivid imagination. Often when I am in that gray time between sleep and awake my imagination punishes me. It sends me imagines of snakes, often giant, man-eating snakes that are going to gobble me whole. I’m terrified of snakes, small ones, big ones… they are all the same to me. They send shivers up my spine, goose bumps up my arms; they steal my breath and my voice. During that gray time, my brain sends them to me. When this happens I make my brain send polar bears in. Big fat, fluffy mean polar bears. Polar bears make the snakes go away. Moral: Polar Bears beat snakes and I’m crazy.
I dislike raisins. I feel they are dead grapes and do not understand why people eat them.
Ed Norton pisses me off. His mere existence raises my blood pressure and makes me want to rage against the world. Writing that statement makes me want to punch kittens in their adorable faces.
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