Brick House of Cards

I pride myself on my ability to read people. I'm usually pretty accurate but today I realized something that has been in my face for years. It wasn't an "Ah-ha!" moment either, more like a "Wow, I'm an idiot!" kind of thing

The cliche ton of bricks hit me on the head while I was out walking my dog. Luckily she's so cute and I was distracted from my figurative head wound.


Now I feel like so many things make sense, like a reverse house of cards, they are all falling into place so clearly.

Adulting hard today.

No speed limit

So I realized today that I can go from being completely upset, hurt feeling and all, to not giving a shit in less than 24 hours. The things that hurt me, really hurt too, sit with me, I dissect them. Mull over them and rather quickly decide what to do with them. This time I decided that honestly, I just don't care. I can brush myself off and move on like a boss. I know who I am and I know my value. If I'm not valued that's OK, you probably don't deserve me anyway. No conceit, just reality. I get that I'm a lot to deal with. Hot headed Gemini chicks usually are.

Does that mean I am on my way to adulting? Maybe.

More than maybe.

Trust

I don't lie, mainly because it's just another thing to have to remember. I will however, tell small untruths to spare feelings but for the most part I am pretty honest. My life is usually an open book and that's OK. It's pretty boring anyway, who would care. If I had anything to actually hide I'd probably just tell everyone because at least it's something interesting.

Lately I feel like people around me are not being truthful, calling anyone out on this is useless. I look for actions to find the truth. Hiding and avoidance are telltale well, tells. If you can look me in the eye and with absolute confidence say your truth then that's all I need.

 Like Larry David.

If you make excuses, get mad at me for your untruths or simply disappear then I know your truth or lie. It's that easy.

OK?

OK.

Hide and reek

What is the deal with people hiding behind excuses and vices as a way to be a truly vile person? Friends who act like bitches and then blame it on PMS. Husbands who lash out at children because they are under deadlines. To me, the worst of these are the fine folks who go to church on Sunday and then hurl insults and hate with a sweet smile. Like going to church makes you a decent person. That's like saying walking into a restaurant makes you a chef. I sat at my car dealer last week, should I call myself a mechanic?

Do us all a favor, either listen to the words of the bible and shut the fuck up or stop hiding behind a place of worship and just out yourself as an asshole.

Thanks.

I see the light!

Small rant or funny story from yesterday.

After spending the day watching movies on my couch while I tried to update my website I told my mother I was dropping my kid off at the mall and we were going to walk around and wait for her. It gives her a chance to get outside and saves me from driving back and forth (and back and forth). My kid was pissed, I mean what's more embarrassing than your mom at the same mall? You mom and almost cartoon like grandmother. It was an ugly fight which I took in 12 rounds.

So we drop off the kid and make our way into the mall (a giant outdoor shopping mecca that's actually really cool, a personal favorite) After about five minutes it's clear that my mother doesn't want to be there and she feels sick (which might just be from the fresh air her body lacks) so I ask if she wants to leave. She does. Great. Now I need to let the kid know and find a way home for her. I'm so pissed at this point because I fought for this mall trip. Wasted energy.

I throw my purse in the back seat and plot my way home on the now jammed surface streets. I turn onto Santa Monica Boulevard and I am immediately blinded by the sun. My already light sensitive eyes cannot deal with this and I literally cannot see a thing. I yell "SHIT!" quite loudly and tell my mother that I can't see a thing, she reaches into her purse, grabs her sunglasses and puts them on (her). Doesn't say a word. I cut over the right and pull over. She asks why and I tell her that I can't see. I blindly search for my purse in the back seat and find my sunglasses, get back into traffic and drive home.

This reminds me of the flight safety instructions: Put your own oxygen mask on before helping others. I truly believe that my mother took her life motto from that but only heard the first part.

This shit only happens to me.

Family picks.

So my mom is visiting. In a normal person's life this would be a good thing, a fun thing, a visit. In my ridiculous life it's like an unpaid babysitting job. I grew up in one of those homes where the kid raised the mom. I was free range and latch keyed. But not free range where I had fun and got to explore. More like I was out there on my own figuring it out by myself. Good times.

So now I get to sit around and do nothing as I hear how hard raising a teen is because she was a difficult teen. In all the stories I hear the references to children are about her and her sister. Never about me. Ever. Not once. Not kidding.

So I let her sleep in my recently done over bedroom, my sanctuary. My perfect zen space which I am quite proud of. She walks in and doesn't notice a thing. Nothing unusual there. This morning after she wakes up she says she has a question and we look at my memory board (like the one in the photo) I have memories of concerts, events, political stickers and other various things I find cool. She points to an old family picture of her, my dad, my sister and me. I love this picture  not for the memory (I don't remember it) but for the 70s awesomeness. It is also the only picture I think I have of the four of us. Never a happy family the pic is just cool. The closest I have to normal.

So anyways, she points to the picture and I'm waiting for it, a memory, a story, a something! Nope, she proceeds to tell me that she remembers taking the pic because she remembers buying her outfit. Yup. That's it. The only thing she had to say about my perfect zen bedroom is that she remembers the outfit she wore in a tiny picture.

I just keep quiet. It's not worth it. Hold your breath and it will be over soon.

I tried to talk my husband about why I don't bother and he said I was still angry. Nope. No anger, just sadness and a complete lack of understanding how a person lives a life with her head in clouds.

For now I will keep my stories to myself and put them here because it's like talking to audience even if that audience is me. I'm an awesome listener.

R-E-S-P-E-C--- Bite me.

Why do people demand and expect respect based on age, relationship or title? Why do I have to respect someone just because they are older than me? When did that become a thing? Why is it rude when I treat someone older the same way they treat me? If someone older is a shit to me it's OK? No way. Tired of that. I don't give a crap how old a person is, anyone treating me with respect will be respected and anyone treating me like shit will, well, you know. I feel the same way with my kid. If you aren't respectful to her, she is going to react in kind. If you are interested in her life, she will reward you with an invitation to her world.

Demanding respect because of your position on a family tree? Sorry but that shit went the way of land lines and dial up.

That is all.