This Is a Real Post. I am not funny...today.

I originally titled this "not a real post" but it occurs to me this sort of...confession, I suppose, is more "real" than the snarky commentary posts. Someone asked me once why I write anything personal and put it out there for consumption, the argument being that it's intended to elicit emotional response. I maintain it's a way for me to be open in a way I'm often not able to in person. Shrug. I don't need a response. I don't really need anyone to read it. I post these sometimes because I've been helped in the past by people sharing their struggles, and I need to pay that forward.

I caught part of the Kardashian show today (it wasn't on purpose: I was making grilled cheese and didn't realize the show I'd been watching ended...Don't judge me!). Anyway...I came to a fairly uncomfortable conclusion.

I don't understand ambitious people. I really don't: I don't understand entrepreneurs of any kind (and yes, the Kardashian clan has made money off of their modeling, sex tape, and basic socialite reality TV, but there's no arguing they are a successful brand). It's not the work: I can work. It's not about the glitzy life or the big money: I'm not jealous watching anyone's life on Reality TV (or social media). It's the "making" opportunities, the energy for constant "doing" that I don't understand in my guts. I've always been a planner, not a doer. It's getting me nowhere. Let me explain.

I have a book to finish. A book I really think I can write (when I manage to hogtie and gag the internal editor in a basement room of my mind). A book that is me taking a step toward getting out of a job I don't love, a step toward making income that could potentially help us not worry so much about money all the time. A book that I'd write to get it out even if I was guaranteed it will never make money or even be published, because I have to write it. I have a plan. I have an outline. I have characters. I have a plot...but I perpetually find other things to do instead of writing, knowing (and feeling guilty) I'm putting it off.

I trap myself in my own inertia.

The amount of weight I need to lose to be healthy is somewhat overwhelming, even if I think of it in 10 pound increments. Or 5 pounds, or even just 2. More importantly, I need to eat better and exercise more to FEEL better. I know this, and so I make a plan. An easy plan: 30 minutes a day, eating more fruit and veggies (which I LIKE: it's not a hardship).

So far, I've actually done the opposite of everything on said plan.

I have a home to unpack, a desk to set up, cleaning to finish. Cleaning to start.

Those little guilts are the terrible, insidious worms that crawl within the depressions that hit me. Like the proverbial thousand cuts, all they irritate and build and distract until I'm overwhelmed and bleeding out, energy-less and unable to actually DO any of the activities that would make me feel better. 

Today, I didn't leave the couch except to take care of the dogs, wash my sheets (so I'm comfy in bed later) and get unhealthy fast food for dinner. I didn't work on the short story or the book. I KNEW I was sinking and couldn't do anything to stop it. Or, I just didn't do anything to stop it.

Recently I won something really cool. Something so cool I didn't actually believe my name was called. I didn't speak up, didn't claim the prize I'd won, because I found myself physically unable to respond AT ALL. I couldn't raise my hand, couldn't get a word out of my mouth, and it was all for NO FUCKING REASON AT ALL. I stood in the crowd, anonymously allowing an opportunity a lot of people would fight over to go to the next name called. WHY? I don't know. I couldn't really explain it to Husband (who wasn't in the room and couldn't speak up for me, which I'm sure he would've done had he been there). He was disappointed in me: I saw it. I was disappointed in myself.  I still am.

I don't know why I sabotage myself: it's the most fucked up sort of self-harming destructive behavior I do: it's like I'm rebelling against anything positive even though I WANT those positive chances. And every time I squander one, or waste time, or find I've lost a day to stupid shit I wonder just how many chances I'll be allowed. And I feel guilty and ashamed for being frozen, and inertia is followed by depression.

It's a goddamned cycle of ishy.

Sometimes it feels like I'm stuck in a giant, sucking spiral...Charybdis inexorably spinning me faster and deeper into the black nothing at the bottom, waiting to swallow me whole.

I'm unbalanced and short sighted and scared, and it's just so damn tiring. I WANT to understand ambitious people. I WANT to understand entrepreneurs. I WANT to be successful at my own goals. It's frustrating as hell to battle this crap, and I know it'll be better soon (maybe not tomorrow, but within the next few days...usually these pass within a few days as my energy returns over a weekend) and I'll work on the book again and get my house in order and get back on the daily walking thing.

But just for tonight, I wish I understood.

This is not a corpse speaking...no really, I'm somewhat alive.

I've been offline quite a bit lately working on FINALLY finishing my first book (rough draft only). I'm not done, but I'm not dead.

Yet.

I figure I need to finish, because my excellent friend Sarah did a Tarot reading for me recently that was essentially a GIANT COSMIC WARNING that I'm "excessively fertile."

I suppose it could've been a universal-warning about an impending apocalypse babies, but I choose to think of it as a not-so-gentle-reminder that I have NOTEBOOKS full of characters and plots just waiting to break out of my overstuffed brainpan and ravage the world.

Also, I've been wasting time looking for a house to rent in Florida, because FUCK THIS WEATHER. Oh Minnesota, I will joyfully leave behind your backstabby version of passive aggressive nice AND your never ending cold.

Oh, you think I'm kidding?

"What's with TODAY, today?"

I have nothing for a real post today.

That's a lie. I could probably entertain someone with some random stream-of-consciousness-crap that bounces around like a superball on speed in my cranium. However, I am lazy. And it's election day (NO MORE Romney supporter calls to my house: yay!!). And therefore I give you the posts I've seen recently that made me cry, either through excessive laughter or well written sentiment.

(Please note, the mental image I get when I write "sentiment" is Johnny Depp as Willie Wonka...remember how he looked like he swallowed a bigass frog every time he tried to say "parents"? Yeah. That's the face I make...also, I just got COMPLETELY distracted looking at pics of Johnny Depp on the interwebz.)

Work, shmerk, people.

Anyway, read these. Seriously.

Cerebral Milkshake: I Will Inject You With Kindness
Superbetsy: Star Wars Kinect
Rubypearl: I Wonder Who Does Laundry at Castle Greyskull?
Non-Girlfriend: Loss is Loss
HyperboleAndAHalf: GOD OF CAKE

Honestly, I could put pretty much anything Jenny writes up as either funny or touching (there's that frog face again), so I'll just say: if you aren't already, read The Bloggess.

That's all I have. Go forth and have a fabulous Tuesday.

PS: spellchecker HATES this post. Mwahahaha.

Pays nothing...may Traumatize Christmas Baby Dragons.

Today I spent quite a bit of time screwing off (in a non-sexual, work-appropriate way). As has been my usual MO for the past week or two...because projects have been delayed by forces not in my control (I SWEAR I didn't wave that wand toward work!!).

Therefore, I spend much of my afternoon fucking around on Craigslist. Since that phrase could mean quite a few different inappropriate behaviors, oh DO let me share the best DOD: Distractions of the Day.

Witness: Kiss Car. Note it's for sale to only the ULTIMATE fan of Gene Simmons. I sort of expect to see it tooling around St. Paul soon, since KISS is playing the MN state fair this year. Apparently bloody demon music is excellent family entertainment. (Wait Kiss Army! I've been to a few Kiss concerts and my husband's a huge fan. I think they're fucking fabulous. It's called sarcasm...stop threatening me and for fuck's sake PUT YOUR TONGUES AWAY.)

In other news, I firmly believe this is the BEST CAR AD EVER. I mean, it made me want to grow a beard AND drive a '95 goddam...erm...grand am. Plus, any ad that uses "Jesus Tap Dancing Christ" is a fucking winner in my book: told Husband he can't sell my truck until he comes up with an equally entertaining ad.

I also seriously considered quitting my job as a business analyst for a health-care-company in favor of becoming a dragonslayer, except that brought up the Dilemma of DragonSlaying. It sparked a whole ethical dilemma in today's email session:

Me: Being a fucking weirdo, my first thought was "but what if the red and green dragons are husband and wife dragons? I'm not killing someone's spouse. For FREE. WTF dude?"


C: what if they have little baby Christmas themed dragon-ites? That's not cool man.Also if it's green there's a solid chance that it's Puff the Magic Dragon and, dude, that is nothing but good news. Seriously.
Z: Do I get to keep a trophy of this dragon? Because I would mount it's wings on my car, that would look so fucking cool. Husband and Wife or Brother and Sister, either way I'm not risking encoring the lifetime wrath of a Dragon for no pay. The only way this would work is if the Dragon gave me half his heart and was actually Sean Connery. Although I still wouldn't kill it then.

Yup. That was my day today.

JESUS TAP DANCING CHRIST! I MEET JENNY LAWSON TOMORROW!!

UPDATED: Warning: This Post Contains Coworker GIBBERISH

Writing doesn't pay any of my bills: I write because if I didn't I'd wither away into bitterdom. Yes, I just invented a word. I'm that awesome. Or mental. Probably mental.

In my I'm-paid-to-sit-at-this-computer hours, I'm a business analyst in the medical insurance industry. Sounds boring as hell, doesn't it? Sometimes it is (generally those are days when you get multiple blog posts during the day and I'm on twitter/facebook/interwebz WAY more than I should be). Case in point: I'm writing about 10,000 UAT (User Acceptance Testing) test cases for software functionality.

Ok, I'm exaggerating. It's 1,000. I'm not kidding. Sound exciting? It's not. At all. It's tedious and nitpicky, but still better than starving my dogs to death, so I do it.

Sometimes it's challenging, interesting, and even a little fun even though I'd always rather be writing.

Or watching Xena: Warrior Princess.

Or bellydancing, which is the only hobby I've ever had that pays a little bit, and that's a neat little bonus to the fun of it. But being inherently lazy, usually I'd rather be watching Xena.

The past few years I've had a couple higher-stress gigs (one required a lot of travel which I bitched wrote about plenty already), but they were small companies with a "family" feel to them (if your family is high-drama and a lot of work). The current gig is delightfully low-stress: partly because I'm a contractor (therefore I don't EVER work over 40 hours because they'd have to pay me overtime) and partly because it's a large company with all the requisite bureaucracy.

And the requisite gossipy, snarky personalities. During all that time with nerdy developer-types I forgot hilariously annoying that many women working in the same space can be.

Of COURSE I have examples, silly! These are all from the same girl who I can only assume is a spoiled brat attention whore simply because she's so fucking loud and repetitive I'd like to ball-gag her that her inane comments make it through my headphone-filter. Oh sorry, was that snarky?

• I hate when I see people treating their kids like pets: kids shouldn't be on leashes, that's just cruel. Because clearly she's never lost a child anywhere and is a judgy bitch.
• It's like $100 for cable and internet. I'm not paying for HBO when all I watch is "The Young and the Restless" on Soap Network every night.
• I can't believe you lost your kid! What kind of parent ARE you?
• NAME REDACTED put an APB out on her kid in Macys! (please include a bitchy, snotty tone and loud self-important giggling when you read this for full effect).
• NAME REDACTED! LEASHES ARE FOR DOGS, NOT KIDS! (In caps because she yelled it. Repeatedly. I'm only partially kidding when I suggest ball gagging her.)
• Name Redacted, my elbow just burst. Can my elbow burst?
• OMG YOU HAVE TO GET THEIR FRIES (again, yelling and went on about Smashburger fries for a good 10 minutes. Irritating, actually).
• Well I'M not coming in early! Upon the supervisor asking for volunteers to work on authorized overtime. Said supervisor replied, "We already know that, Twit Coworker Name Redacted. You said so three times. We heard you."
• UPDATE: Why are you always isolating me? (upon discovering the person across from her cube is moving out) Supervisor: "Oh Twit Cowroker Name Redacted, if we were going to isolate you we'd put you in a padded room. Or the basement where no one could hear your whining." Fucking AWESOME.

In other news, the new Starbucks guy gave me a fork with my oatmeal today. A fork with my oatmeal. WTF?

To fix my day I've ordered 4 Unicorn Fart Lip Balms from Etsy. They smell like thin mints. Fucking tubes full of AWESOME. Also, Etsy may be the devil...
This whole post was totally random and if you made it this far I love you a lot. And you may need some professional help...just sayin.

UPDATED: Unicorn Farts are on their way! WOOT!

Turns out I AM a slacker

Yesterday, the worst flash flooding in 40 years hit my hometown, causing likely tens of millions of dollars in damage to commercial buildings, roads, and homes in the area. See pics here. It's strange and awesomely horrifying all at once, and apparently my brain is avoiding worrying about my relatives up there (a few are trapped in their farmhouse right now because the water washed out the road on each side and the river rose to within 40 feet of the house) by focusing on stupid shit. It's selfish and dumb and there you go: if I think about the pics of my hometown too long I get teary eyed, so I do this instead.

For example: the current Mayor is only a couple years older than me...in fact, I went to high school with him. Now I was utterly unsurprised when he ran for Mayor, and even less surprised when he won. The man was class president and the poster child for a future in politics: he gave a shit about stuff going on in the community. I applaud him for that, because while I like to think I wouldn't panic in a disaster situation (I don't really know, to be fair), I'm pretty sure I'm not a good choice to lead a city through a disaster. Mayor Ness, however, seems to be doing a fine job so far: kudos to you dude!

That was the second reminder of my slacker-ness today. First was digging out my college transcripts for my current job, because apparently the background check doesn't actually go into the school records like everyone else does, so I need to prove I went to college. Sigh. It took me six hours of digging through papers to find the damn things.

And when I finally found them, I was slightly ashamed. I was a solid B student in college: not because I couldn't get A's...because I was lazy. Seriously, there's NO reason I should've gotten a C- in an English Literature class, or a C in Cultural Anthropology. Those were part of my majors, for Gods' sake...meaning I was relatively INTERESTED in them. Sigh. I never thought of myself as a slacking gen-x-er, but the proof is in the transcripts after all. If I could go back, I'd apply myself.

The way I'm applying myself now, to my current job, by writing this blog post. And pointing out that the Red Cross of MN always accepts disaster relief donations and I'll be watching for the offical call for volunteers when cleanup efforts begin.

Thank goodness the seals and polar bear survived. I wonder if they have counseling at the Como Zoo for them?