Change...

Things are getting ready to change for me big time. Not writing a lot on the blog, but they are coming.

I'm making some pretty big decisions in my life and it's taking some time away from posting in the public eye that is the internet.

I haven't forgotten about any of you. I'm just making sure I know what I'm posting and being sure to filter things down very heavily right now.

Crossroads

Sometimes, trying to focus on the task at hand is the most difficult thing in the world. Sometimes, it's a very good thing my life doesn't depend on it. I'm going through some random phase - the only phase I seem to go through when I get this urge to write things that I normally just can't express in public forums, but I think this time, I'm going to just let it all out.

Problem with that is, there is so much going on in my head right now that I don't know where to start? Do I put it into story context? Do I lay my life out there for all to read? Do I fantasize my reality and pretend it's someone else? How can anyone tell what's reality and what's fictional though?

What is that path where reality and fiction meet at the crossroads and something pulls you in another direction?


Then, of course, there are those times when you stand at the middle of the road and I'll be damned if nothing comes to help....It's frustrating. It's hopeless. It's futile....

Fast Food - You get what you pay for...

I remember one time when I was very young (like 16) and working at McDonalds a gentleman returned a sandwich to me. I was a cashier at the time and he was very angry. He opened up his BigMac box, slammed it on the counter and said, "This looks NOTHING like the picture..."

Looking at the heap of lettuce falling off the bun and the "special sauce" (read: thousand island dressing) oozing onto every nook and cranny of the bun and box, I felt a little humor as I was standing there thinking, "Do you really think it's gonna look like the plastic images up there, jackass?"

So brings me to today, 2009. (I almost wrote 2007...)

I went to Taco Bell today and got a bean burrito. I love them. I love them without onioins and with sour cream. Probably not the best thing for me - okay...definitely not the best thing for me....but they are filling, cheap, and good on a stomach that doesn't want a lot of "stuff" in there.

First, it aggravates me that people fold both ends of the burrito into the actual burrito. I would much rather tear off some of the bread if there's too much rather than biting into a CLUMP of wet bread.

Second, I used to work at Taco Bell. I know you don't use spoons for the sour cream. So why is it almost everytime I get this, I get a clump of sour cream in the end of the burrito? Generally, since you've been so kind to fold both ends of the burrito over, I generally end up biting into a mouthful of sour cream first. It's disgusting. Seriously.

Now look. I realize it's fast food. They're making it fast. But, can you put a little bit of service into what you do? The job you do now leads into things later in life and if you half ass things as simple as a damned burrito, what's left in your life? I'd gladly pay a bit more money if I knew things were evenly proportioned rather than having to bit into a lump of stuff I already know is bad for me.

And apparently, I'm not alone. Look at this that I found on the internet....

Afraid of grasshoppers?

Yes. I am. Let's be very clear. Not a little scared - but the type of "piss-yourself-while-running-the-other-direction" scared.

And in my defense, it has a name: Acridophobia

A few people know this about me, but I figured I should probably explain why I am barricaded in my bedroom at the moment waiting until Richard gets home late tonight, cowering in a corner covered in blankets head to toe with my dogs praying the towel under the door does its job and keeps the little bastard out...



I wasn't always afraid of these hard jumping thumping little fuckers. I used to love them. I grew up on a ranch where these things were all over the place. And me being like 5 years old, I remember them being as big as my leg. Of course, they probably weren't.

I am pretty sure I didn't develop this abnormal phobia until about 11 years ago. I was working for an advertising firm at the time and it was REALLY bad grasshopper season that year.

I remember driving to work and seeing hundreds of grasshoppers all over the parking lot. The next part of what I'm about to tell you is COMPLETELY true.

I sat outside in the parking lot that day (I chose to wear a skirt) and contemplated about how I was going to get INTO the office door about 500 feet away. The sheer thought of stepping outside and hearing one of those nasty crunchy bastards crunch under me or the THOUGHT (ohmigod, I'm about to pass out thinking about it) of it crawling up my leg or jumping my face made me want to stop breathing. So, I decided to be smart. There were less grasshoppers near the sidewalk...

So, I put my car in drive...parked my car ON the sidewalk, (blocking the door to the building almost) and RAN (like, dead sprint, screaming and flailing my arms in a mad state of fuggin PANIC) into the building. Then I promptly screamed some more, ruffled my hair for like 5 minutes while I freaked out and was hollaring, kept brushing myself off and handed my keys to my boss and said, "If you want business, you'll have to move my car....cause I'm not."

For some reason, people laughed at me.

I can't remember being scared of these damn things before, but just the sheer thought of a grasshopper makes my skin crawl and my eyes glaze over in panic. I found this picture:



Listen here. Let me tell you something, people. If that was me, not only would I not be touching it - much less smiling, I'd of thrown something very large - like - the size of Texas at that damn thing over my head as I was running the other direction.

Which brings me to tonight. I ordered pizza and had the dogs in the office to prevent them from attacking the guy with the food. He was curious about the 3 yapping mutts in the other room, so I opened the door for him to see. In the 2 minutes we were having a dog conversation, a small black (OH MY GODDDDDDDDD) thumping little BEAST jumped into my house! I paniced, screamed, and nearly slammed the door on his foot. He laughed at me a little bit and I tried to play it off. I cordially shut the door, put my pizza down and scooped up my dogs quickly and ran to my bedroom.

So here I am. Barricaded in my bedroom, shaking, pissing myself, and trying to breathe. Mind you, I forgot my damn food. But, Richard is NOT coming into this bedroom until he does the "search and destroy" and assures me that thing is dead by SHOWING me it in a JAR that is SEALED.

Until then, I will sit here and continue to cry in my own pee and pray he returns soon...

Not sure where to begin...

Have you ever looked at your blog or an article you are supposed to write and not really be able to figure out where to begin? It's especially hard when things are more public and you don't want everything divulged, but at the same time...you try to be open about how things are going.

Everything is actually pretty busy for me right now. School has started back, which makes me happy...and yet somewhat manic. The manic part, let me explain...

So, in an online class, these classes last 5 weeks each. Part of the deal is you must post a response to a discussion question. Think of them as "quick pop quizzes." You know...the "make sure you're reading the text" type quizzes. For my class this semester, the question for DQ1 was due on Thursday. No big deal though. I turned it in Tuesday evening. The second one (DQ2) is due on Saturday. Keep in mind now, you must post 4 out of 7 days (with 2 substantive posts a day). So 4x2 = 8. (Your original post doesn't count....)

So, for DQ1, my week should look something like this. (My school weeks are Tuesday - Monday)
(Oh, and I'm going to show you how it looks if ME and every other student turns it in by the designated date.)

Tuesday -Nothing due
Wednesday - Nothing due
Thursday - DQ 1 due
Friday - 2 of 8 substantive posts due (DQ1)
Saturday - DQ 2 due, 4 of 8 substantive posts due (DQ1), 2 of 8 substnative posts due (DQ2)
Sunday - 6 of 8 substantive posts due (DQ1), 4 of 8 substnative posts due (DQ2)
Monday - 8 of 8 substantive posts due (DQ1) - ASSIGNMENT COMPLETE , 6 of 8 substnative posts due (DQ2) -

Now, notice I have only 6 of 8 posts done for DQ2? And umm.. I ran out of days?
So, I thought no big deal.. I'll just turn in DQ2 a day early, right?
Well, I still can't start my substantive posts until someone else gives me something to respond to! So I'm still stuck not meeting it!!!

How is this possible? How am I going to be deducted for not meeting requirements when the assignment is due a day too late and students are waiting til the last minute to turn it in?

ARGH!

Regret...

I don't usually have regrets... but here lately, all I do is watch the "storm" come in. I feel - helpless.

Looking up....

You cannot possibly imagine how very very confused I am. I could try and explain it...put it into words...only to realize I would probably stumble over every single word that came to my brain and trip on it as it came out of my mouth.

I'm struggling with something - and I'm not sure if it's something I'm having to deal with personally - or if it's something I'm just trying to conjure up for myself. My peace is at home with Richard and my dogs. My peace is at work, doing the work I love to do...but then, there's everything else.

This picture reminded me of what I feel like right about now. Standing at the bottom of what seems like an endless climb directly up and no sure way on how I'm going to get there. There's no mountain to scale - no gradual incline to pace - no rope to help me. It's just this stick (this endless, annoying, splinter-ridden, pain-in-my-ass stick) - reaching to the Heavens. And let me tell you - I could not have picked a bigger stick to climb lately either.

What's most frustrating is I'm really about ready to do it my way, cut the son of a bitch down, touch the top branch, turn around and flip everyone off and walk away with my arms crossed, but feeling some weird sort of satisfaction. As if saying "Fuck you" to the tree made me feel better. You laugh, but I'm really at that point.

I've not asked for a lot in my life. I've worked my butt off to get what I have in my life and I know I would be just as happy without it as I would with it. As long as I had my family, my dogs, and Richard - my life would go on. That's just it though and where I get lost. I don't want to become a meaningless switch and just shut things out, but I suddenly feel that is the best way to compromise with unwilling emotions and frustrations.

Retraction Video (Click)

I'm very good at shielding myself from problems. When I feel threatened or like my security is being risked, I immediately suck back into my shell and throw up my walls. We're not talking a gradual process either. It's like running over one of those metal grates and feeling the metal shoot up into your tire. As quickly as you stand there, it's up without you expecting it.

There's not a lot of things I appreciate Richard teaching me - but being guarded was always one of them. He taught me to stand up for myself and to get defensive when I felt like I was in trouble or danger of being hurt. Sure, it doesn't mean I don't cry and don't shed tears. It doesn't mean I don't sit around and wish I could change things, but it means I can bury them deep, throw myself into something else and focus on what I need to - until I can deal with that.



Hurt and feelings of rejection or mistrust have always been things I can't deal with well. I deal superbly well with anger and hatred because I know how to handle them. I get angry in return and I don't feel sadness. It's an easy emotion to deal with. What I can't deal with is the pain of hurt. The way I used to deal with emotions like these was taken from me - granted for good reasons...but it left me with a void I've yet to fill. There are days when I can't focus and think about anything else except telling myself, "Get angry. It's easier, Kristin." And truth is, it is easier. But, this time I don't want to be angry. I'm annoyed. I'm hurt. I'm honestly just through with trying. I read a really good quote last night:

"Burnout is not caused from trying to trying to solve problems. It is caused from trying to solve the same problem over and over again..."


So, here is where I am: