My whole last week was ruined. Its a stupid story, but nonetheless, I must tell the stupidness of it.

We were invited to a friends home for Chinese New Year last week.

First, its a huge family of Chinese Americans, and we are white, so of course there is the whole not belonging there thing.

Second, I have terrible people skills, so I’m always a total social misfit anyway. I feel grateful if I manage not to spill or break anything during the evening and talking to people is beyond painful, at any gathering.

Third, I gained back a bunch of weight I lost last year. I knew I was doing it but it was the holidays and a bunch of other crap that I won’t go into now, but I’m overweight and over the overweight I find acceptable. I know this and its my issue.

Fourth, my boyfriends friend and girlfriend of his best friend has a multitude of personal issues, but for some reason, since I moved back to be with him, she has made it her project to help me lose weight. Now, I never asked her to help me. I actually asked her not to help me a couple of times because it really isn’t helpful and its none of her darn business. She decided anyway that I just really needed someone to encourage me. So she’d text me early in the morning and ask me if I’d gone for a walk. She avoided stopping to get me a treat at a bakery on my birthday because I should have sugar, even though as we left the restraunt for my birthday dinner we had agreed to drive there, she turned to avoid it and my boyfriend followed her. Oh, yes, and we were on a camping trip and she was in the front of a group of 8 of us biking. She was going really fast to set the pace for all of us to get a good workout. The group behind her were all complaining to her boyfriend, so he finally went up and asked her to slow down. She thought it was just me, so she came back to me, slowed down to such a slow pace that I could barely keep my bike upright, and seperated me from the rest of the group.
OK, I just wrote this, along with a bunch of other weird ass crap off as her deep rooted problems. Then she just totally blew it last week.

Her boyfriends niece has boxes of girlscout cookies to sell at the dinner. There were 3 cases there next to the front door. Now, if you’ve had kids in Girl Scouts, you know that the troop gives you your quota to sell. If you don’t sell them you end up stuck with a couple hundred bucks worth of cookies. So I figured that since it was a big family party, mom had decided to hit up the relatives to unload some of the cookies. As we were leaving, I offered to buy a box. One box.

It turned into this massive scene with half the family standing there. I wasn’t really choosing, so I asked my boyfriend to pick a box. Then she said it. She said, “Well make sure you pick something she won’t eat”. Seriously, in front of a bunch of people that I felt uncomfortable with anyway, thats what she said to the whole darn group. So needless to say, I didn’t really take it that well.

So let this be a lesson to anyone out there that seems to think they are “helping” someone lose weight. You aren’t unless they really have asked you to “help” them. Otherwise, you’re just being a jerk. 2 months ago

My daughters wedding didn’t go as it was planned. There were lots of “wrongs”. Most had to do with too many people thinking they were suppose to do something and not listening to the bride and groom. I was one of those people.

I’m so disappointed. It meant so much to me to help her in the way she wanted. In the end, I had too many people to please and I ended up not supporting her. My heart is broken.

It was beautiful and some people didn’t relax and enjoy it. Such a missed opportunity. I missed the closeness that was suppose to be there and in our family. Thats all she wanted. It didn’t happen and it hurts. 7 months ago

Watched back-to-back episodes of “So You Think You Can Dance” this evening. All I can say is that I was born knowing I was a dancer. By age 8 I knew I was in the wrong place on earth. Gave it an effort for the next 12 years but thats history and petty drama now.

I watch the artistry of the dancers and the choreography and know thats were I should have been but my flower is wilted. Its in my spirit, not just my dna. I’ve always wondered if other arts are the same. I think there are no age limits for painters, musicians or poets and I resent them.

I have to believe that maybe I can come back again as a bird or something else with equal agility and intelligence to dance on earth. A corner of my mind would find satisfaction even a dandilion seed.

Maybe its false to think I could never come back as a human and move with expression. What do I know about eternity anyway. 8 months ago

Today I thank Deborah Henson-Conant of burnedfoodmuseum.com for design skills that somehow made me a little less serious about my serious lack of social skills.

Damn you Pinterest and all the perfection and ease and impossible beauty you allow misguided souls like me to partake of.

I’m trying to make fun of a mistake I made on so many levels. First, I had made a plan not to go to a party. I knew I would feel like a social outcast, and I did and I was. But to make matters worse, I spent the whole day making terrible food to bring to the party.

I’m not even going to describe how misguided I was. It was not the place to try out recipies for the first time. I’m usually successful but this was a disaster. Runny frosting, soggy veggie chips, stringy pork loin, and well, the salad was OK except I lost the feta somewhere in the kitchen so instead or red, white and blue, it was just red and blue.

The cupcakes looked so bad that the guy whose birthday we were celebrating called them a lab experiment right before the crowd. Almost everyone was drunk but yes, I was mortified.

Then to make matters even worse, nobody ate them because they are all such narcissists that they couldn’t possibly eat sugar at a party in front of people. They just wait until later at home when nobody is watching. Snobs.

I’m tired today. Over sensitive and embarassed. Yes, the rule is not to try out recipies for potlucks. Yes, if it doesn’t taste that great at home its not going to get better magically in the car on the drive to the party. Cream cheese frostings need to be refigerated.

The thing that tops it off though, besides not getting through one single conversation without feeling like an idiot, is that I wore the worst outfit ever. At least if I had worn something nice they would have just thought I am a bad cook. Now they all think I’m nuts.

darn. 9 months ago

Sometimes talking things over makes it better. Just discussing the issues resolves them. Sometimes it doesn’t. I find that having some methods of getting into a flow state will turn the tide from saddened to accepting. Sometime its walking and looking at how plants and flowers just exist. Sometimes it listening to birds and realizing there is more than I notice. Looking at photos of my family and remembering how much I care for them.

My daughter took this photo of my grandaughter in the tree. It is called “The Daydream Place”. Yes. Thats the tree in my blog about missing them, missing her, feeling like my flowers are all gone and I’m just a shadow. There she is in the tree, hugging the branches. I understand that she’s daydreaming and thats a good place for our minds to go for comfort.

But today, I haven’t gotten back to happy, calm or grateful in an easy way. Not there yet. Maybe its just that talking didn’t resolve something that won’t change. There is no misunderstanding that needed to be cleared up. There is just a sad reality that can’t change. Only my understanding of its importance can change. Only my attitude can change.

I’m grateful that the universe provides us moments and opportunities to learn even when the lessons are unpleasant. I’m very grateful when there is a beautiful answer like this photo to tell me that we’re all connected. But I’m just not happy. 10 months ago

But doesn’t have the honesty or personal integretiy to admit it. You know that they are because they keep slipping up and asking you about things that you NEVER F#*JUBG said to them. So you know they are reading your online stuff with out being HONEST enought to admit it. Yes, that. 10 months ago

I was trolling around the internet today and found these great lamps that a guy is making with repurposed plastic containers. My first reaction was that I am going to make some too. They are selling for $150 and they’d be even greater with led lights.

Then something hit me. I made one of these as a kid. It didn’t have a light in it. I used a clorox bottle.

The sad thing was that I loved it so much and my mom hated it. When I was working through “The Artists Way”, this was in one of the exercises.

She hated it so much that she threw it away when I was in the hospital getting my appendix out when I was 8. My little artist heart was broken then.

It hurt a little to remember. Made me sad. But I still like this lamp and I’ll make one. 17 months ago

This is my favorite blog. The author just got back from being depressed. Its awesome. I you or anyone you know are or ever were depressed you’ll really like it.
http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html 19 months ago

The airport in Reno has several dioramas with large animals that have been taxidermied and posed to allow people to enjoy their natural beauty. I don’t think this was such a party for the animals that are participating. The only thing that would have made this photo more hideous would have been if the sign was for a casino.

They opened up Bear hunting this year and gave out 40 permits in the state. People protested. Somehow I’m seeing or noticing more news stories about people shooting each other in hunting accidents. hmmmm 19 months ago

I’ve been participating in an online discussion of my home town. A few posts have been unpleasant but there have been hundreds more that were wonderful to read and I was flooded with good feelings this week.

A couple of posts this week had special significance. Some long forgotten insult was sort of jokingly resurrected and swearing ensued. A true level of lack of class was revealed. As would have happened when I was a kid, people shouted down the insults and goodwill returned.

It made me reflect on how families support the badness. Maybe an older cousin or sibling, or a narcissist of a mother supports a sort of dark legacy. In one case, all the hurt and hate caused by an older sibling had been heaped on a younger one who probably had no idea and probably didn’t deserve any of it. It was years ago but it still hurt someone deeply.

In another post, someone took offense and although they are so proud of their age and profession, they resorted to middle school sniping and talking about someone elses looks “behind” their backs where they could be “overheard”. Fifth grade mentality and maturity level. It seems that their weapon of choice was their perception that they are “trophy wives” with a beauty that is only skin deep if that. They know they have a flaw and lets say were born with big fat lips that need plastic surgery. They should either get it or stop trying to post pictures of themselves online like they’re a supermodel. In your head you have to say, “You aren’t pretty inside or outside, dear.”

In both cases the worst of them was revealed. I sort of blame it on their alcoholism or drug use, but the basic core problem is that they are bullies. Always have been and apparently always will be. Some people have an inner pain that will always go to a mean place. They are ugly.

So how does that effect the rest of us? We hide from them if we must. Or else we try to please them as we look at ourselves deeply. Maybe even try to find out how to make the bullying stop by changing ourselves. They used to make us miserable.

For years I’ve tried to feel sorry for them. The love they didn’t get and all that….

What I’ve discovered though is that it really isn’t worth the worry. Sometimes the bully is really just a waste of energy. 21 months ago

Its the anniversay of my mothers passing. Sometimes the gifts that you recieve from them from beyond are concrete, like a feather dropping from the sky just as you recall their memory. Sometimes they are more complex and unfold over time. You miss them if you don’t pay attention.

We lived in a small town. As with any, there were good and bad things. I was bullied as a little kid and it taught me to accept and defend others. I tried to be kind to everyone because I realized that not everyone had the best times in their homes. I didn’t even know that the town was segregated because I was friends with everyone in school and we were all the same. My dad always told me “don’t let the bullies get you down”. He said it with such sadness that even though everyone I knew loved him, he had some hurt I didn’t know.

One of the reasons for the bullies was this idea that some of the kids were the “rich” kids. I told my mom about it one time because the reality of whether I was one or not was skewed. My family wasn’t rich. People make choices in their lives.

My parents both worked hard all day, all evening, most weekends. Other mothers didn’t work but mine did. She didn’t want to be rich. We had family she and my dad helped. People didn’t know that.

My parents didn’t drink, didn’t gamble, didn’t even go out to dinner. Never had an expensive vacation. My mom made our clothes. Everything she bought was on sale. My dad always bought groceries on sale. We even ate plain. They said that they worked too hard for their money to waste it. I see that in my daughters now. Growing up with less makes you more aware of whether material things really matter.

When my parents moved to a our little town, they worked the same bomb stacking jobs as everyone else. They grew up in the depression and understood hunger. They took every opportunity to learn new skills from classes offered at work. They didn’t go to college and there weren’t any community colleges back then but they understood that they needed to learn to advance in their jobs. They took pride in working and education. My mom worked up to an office job but she still didn’t make much more than anyone else and certainly not as much as the men who were her supervisors. It was the 60’s and even in our small little town women weren’t suppose to take mens jobs because even though they did the work, they didn’t have to support a family. Yeah, she knew that wasn’t fair. Unfortunately it hasn’t changed.

We had a nice house in a middle class neighborhood because my parents went without and had the same opportunity as most to move when the new houses were available. I think it cost $15,000 back then. They kept up a nice yard. Made improvements by saving up for them, bought everything on sale, did all or most of the work themselves. It was hard work and they were tired every day.

I remember when my mom found out about how I was bullied for being a “rich” kid. She explained all of this to me then. Sometimes you don’t understand what people did or what they stood for until decades later.

I have her in my heart today. The house was sold when she died and apparently has been neglected. You see, its not the house but the people in it that make it a home. Its not what people are given that makes them rich. Its whats in their hearts. You can achieve whatever you want if you work hard, stay focused, live with values. 21 months ago

A friend sent me a link to this site that is organizing local groups related to economic collapse. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Common-Security-Club/162629384504

search Rsiliance Circles. Its about knowing your neighbors and helping each other. Very interesting use of the internet I say. 22 months ago

All my good, happy and fullfilling goals were raptured away like true believers on May 21, 2011. If you subscribe to me you may have noticed them gone, not on May 21 though, just metaphorically on May 21. I had a bad moment and my goals list was the victim.

Depression is like a pit. You dig a big, big hole and sometime walk around the rim for a while. Sometimes you sort of slip in like if you were on a hike and you slid down a cliff. You cling to branches and rocks that may be stable enough to hold your weight and not pull out of the sand, try to get a footing and push yourself upwards. Sometimes there is nothing there but crumbling sand and you have to dig your toe in until it hits something hard, a hidden memory or attitude, discovery, painful maybe but what allows you to climb.

So armageddon hit my goals. I hated losing them. I know they are still there under the “I’ve Done This” tab. They can be reclaimed. Its time for me to reclaim each one when its time. 23 months ago