Sunday, August 23, 2015

The Fine Line

I'm just a girl in the world. 
Isn't that how the songs goes?  
It never ceases to amaze me how our society refers to women as the weaker sex.  We are to be emotional, gentle, sweet, always somehow "lesser".  I'm supposed to be just a girl.  Dainty.  Feminine.  Weak.  Full of love and maternal instinct and sisterhood (as long as no man finds it threatening).   
Yet, I get up every morning and get dressed, sliding on one pant leg at a time.  I know that in spite of all the things I'm supposed to be, I'm still expected to walk out the door and rule the world.   I'm confused by this every morning.  I'm supposed to change the world, rule the world, take care of the world... yet, I'm supposed to be the weaker sex.

This has been a short Sunday Confession. The prompt this week was: Pant.  I hope you'll take the time to read the contributions from all of the great writers who have chosen to participate.  If the prompt inspires you, feel free to link up your own post below or share an anonymous confession in the comments below by clicking the blue linkup button.   Thanks for joining us.
An InLinkz Link-up

Sunday, August 16, 2015

I Can't Spare a Square!

I was 3 years old when the first episode of Seinfeld aired.  As a kid, I found the sitcom boring.  As an adult, I found a genuine appreciation for the series and I find myself often quoting or referring to it.  I am an original fan, staying up watching reruns before it was available via streaming media.  I've seen them all. 
Seinfeld is life.
The beauty and true comedic genius behind Seinfeld were the series of moments everyone can relate to.  From Jerry's dating experiences to George's employment woes, we've all had a Seinfeld moment. We have all encountered our own personal Soup Nazi at one point or another. 
In January of 1994, "The Stall" aired.  In this episode, both Elaine and Jerry are at the movies with dates. Elaine goes to the bathroom only to realize, too late, that there is no toilet paper.  She pleads with the woman in the stall next to her who refuses, saying "I can't spare a square".  The women never see each other, and both leave outraged by the encounter.  Later, we find out that the woman from the bathroom is Jerry's new girlfriend, Jane.  When Jerry hears Elaine's version of the story, he decides not to introduce the women.  Elaine runs into Jerry and Jane at  the diner and realizes Jane is the woman from the bathroom.  When Jane announces she is going to the bathroom, Elaine runs to the door and shoves past Jane on the way.  The next scene opens in the bathroom to find Jane is asking her neighbor if they will give her some toilet paper. The stall door opens to reveal Elaine sitting in the stall with all the rolls.  She exclaims that she "can't spare a square" before running out of the stall with her stash of toilet paper.
I often overextend myself until I feel like I can't spare a square (I wish that didn't sound like a fat joke).  I strive to be generous, but sometimes give so much of my money, time, energy and spirit that I have nothing left for myself.
It is distressing to me that I don't have financial security.  It is more distressing to me when I see someone I care about struggling to make ends meet.  I choose to help people struggle less, even if it means I struggle a little more.  It is a choice I make but doesn't make situations where money is tight any easier for me when I need the same support.  
It bothers me when I give of myself, only to feel like my time isn't appreciated when it is such a commodity to me.  As someone who deals with chronic pain, I have limited energy.  Giving someone my energy means something in my life doesn't get completed that day.  I hate that when I finally ask for help I'm treated as a burden; a burden I wouldn't be if I'd focused on my own needs to begin with. 
 It's hard to see someone take my generosity and abuse it.  When I work for something and have enough to share, I choose to share with the people I feel need it.  It bothers me when I don't get a simple "thank you".  It bothers me when people use my generosity like a handout instead of a hand up as it was intended.   It hurts when I give things to people I could have gotten money for, and they don't use it in spite of "needing" it. 
It's hard when I accept someone only to find they don't accept me because I don't fit into some mold or box.  I hate feeling like I've given someone a special place in my life only to find out I don't hold a place in theirs.  I hate when I've been accepting and gotten judgment in return.  I hate when I've shown compassion and acceptance and in return found intolerance.
 I accept that I don't get to dictate how people use the things I give them.  I also know I should only give what I can afford to lose or replace.  If we teach others how to treat us, I'm failing because I feel like I build one-way roads to other people.  At some point, when I realize that no one is going to spare me a square in return... I stop.
And so when I feel like I can't give any more, when I can't give to people who can't spare a square for me, I hoard the squares.  I hate feeling like I'm alone in my cave, running my fingers over the soft, double-ply roll as I call it "my precious".  I hate feeling like I grow apathetic.  I need to learn how to balance caring for myself, and giving to others in ways that make me feel good.

This has been a Sunday Confession.  The prompt this week was: Square.  I hope you'll take the time to read the contributions from all of the great writers who have chosen to participate.  If the prompt inspires you, feel free to link up your own post below or share an anonymous confession in the comments below.   Thanks for joining us. 

Friday, August 7, 2015

My Huge Announcement

 Are you ready for my big announcement?  It's huge.  You're going to be so surprised and excited.... I just know it. 

MORE THAN CHEESE AND BEER: THE BOOK is coming to a bookstore near you next year. 

That's right.  I have a publisher.  I expect you all to go out and buy yourself a copy using my Amazon Associates code, or steal someone else's off the back of their toilet!

You know I'm joking, right?  Were you excited when you thought I wasn't kidding and this was going to be a real thing you could read the next time you're hiding from your kids in the bathroom under the guise of "taking a poop"?  Did you want to come meet me in a bookstore somewhere so I could sign your copy and you could walk away wondering if you smelled vodka?  Better yet, did you want to be the awesome person who came to meet me in a bookstore and BRING me vodka?

As much as I had aspirations of writing a book when I was younger, as an adult it just doesn't seem like something I can do.  I say this because I do, in fact, read my own blog.  

I am not everyone's cup of tea, and that is fine because I'd rather be their shot of whiskey.  But who ever started doing shots of whiskey with an end goal in mind?  If I were to write a book, I'm not sure what I would write it about.  I once had aspirations of going on the road with my own one-woman show; it was going to be called, "Shit my exes texted me: dramatic messages from the morons who've shaped my bitterness". Could I turn that into something people would actually want to read?

My life experiences aren't without value.  I make people laugh.  I've learned some lessons along the way that might impart some wisdom to someone somewhere along the way.  I know that what I share of myself has inspired people before.  Is that enough reason to write a book?  Somehow, I have this idea in my head that if I want to write about something I should know how it shapes me in an admirable way before sharing it.  For example, my trials in the dating world... I think I need to stop failing first so that I can see how those experiences truly shape me as someone another person wants to actually be with.  Is there any value to reading a book about dating from someone who is still single?  All of these other experiences I've had, I can't help but feel as though I am wholly incomplete and that writing a book in the middle of my story is like making a movie about the making of a movie you don't even have the screenplay for.  

All of the things I am doing and experiencing, they shape who I am right now but have I reached a point where I feel accomplished enough or shaped enough as a person to write a book about it?  I don't think so.   

So my big announcement?  I'm not writing a book this year.

I could always write fiction.  What small, short fiction I've read has been met with rave reviews.  It is the one place I feel comfortable exposing what a dark little weirdo I am, and that seems to be working out for Stephen King.  Maybe there is a future book in store after all....

This a Secret Subject Swap post!  This week 16 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.  

 My subject was “You are writing a book.  Is it fact or fiction? What is the title and what is it about?”.  It was submitted by  Here goes: 

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:                          Baking In A Tornado                                          The Momisodes                    The Bergham’s Life Chronicles                 Stacy Sews and Schools                            Dinosaur Superhero Mommy                  Spatulas on Parade                        Southern Belle Charm                               Never Ever Give Up Hope                                 Sparkly Poetic Weirdo                    Silence of the Mom                      Someone Else’s Genius              Confessions of a part-time working mom                The Angrivated Mom           More Than Cheese and Beer                     Searching for Sanity                           Climaxed