a darker kind of lemonade

i haven’t been much on my Accidental Happiness blog for quite some time.  i don’t want to make myself out to be a liar, you know.  it’s a lot to live up to; the title.  i could see it as a mission statement of my life, as though i’ve commissioned myself to go forth and capture all the unexpected good things that are out there glimmering hope into the dark and dreary world, and sit and ponder them over a good cup of coffee and share them with all of mankind.

and that’s a good thing.  and i do that!  i find little awesome things that bring me sudden joy, that other people walk right by and fail to notice.  i share and post when i come across all those things on the internet that make you cry your eyes out; stories of strangers helping out homeless vets, and children saving puppies from destruction.  but lately my “spontaneous happiness” and my “grim reality” have been duking it out in the ring, and i’m very uncertain who’s going to get the KO.

my friend at work (hey you!) likes to say this before she goes in: “Well folks, time to go make doughnuts”.  i’m not sure where that came from or why she started saying it – cuz she doesn’t make doughnuts for a living.  but that’s how i feel i’ve been living forever:  going in circles, trying to sugar coat everything.  something difficult happens, and i find the sliver lining, the chance to grow in the situation.  someone blows up in my face, and i try to calm them down and steer them to a calmer level, make them feel they’ve been heard, understood, and when they apologize i just say, hey we all have bad days.  the whole “when someone hands me lemons, i make lemonade” rule.  it seems like i’ve been that way forever.

but the reality is this: i’m a darker brew than just that.  i might even be a Palmer.  you know, half lemonade half tea.  good thing he came up with that whole flavor marriage, and how is it possible no one thought of that before?  or did he just market it first?

anyway, not my point.  the point is, life is kind of a bad dance class.  it’s all two steps forward, three steps back, a stiletto on  the instep and an emergency ride to hospital.

something out there – Hollywood, Sweet Valley High, or an angry, violent, alcoholic parent – has convinced me that there is an eventual happy ending to the story.  that if i am good enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, or positive enough, life will right itself and give me all my dreams tied up in a pretty bow.  but there are ants on every picnic, and thorns on every rose, and believe it or not, i’ve actually cut my fingers on ribbon before, so even my pretty dreams might eventually injure me.

my life right now is full of trying to merge the side of me that seeks love, happiness, fulfillment and joy with the side of me that is stark reality, depressive, prone to cutting and emotionally unstable.

so my accidental happiness blog may seem more like a dark hole for an indiscernible amount of time…but there is much beauty and worth in the pits of man, and i intend to find it.

look out Darth Vadar; i’m coming to the dark side.

skelly 1

 

Advertisements

just a thought

ok, just a warning to anyone who has read previous posts on this blog, and might be expecting something positive, uplifting, or inspiring, because this blog does have happiness in the title there.  well, warning: this is a rant!  stop now if you fear you may be brought to your knees by my candid observations…

the new giant headphone phase is sort of causing me angst.

beats

image via Target.com…get them there in all kinds of colors!

i love that people are into their music. i love that it is contained, and piping through their headphones to only THEIR ears, causing them to be deaf and not me, as opposed to the loud, bumping cars that drive by and rattle my windows and make me feel nauseous, as though i’ve just flown MACH 5 down the airstrip.  so yay to the very cool headphones for lowering my impulse to murder my fellow man!

that said, now that everyone in the area has these headphones on, i feel like i’m in a continual “American Idol: the Worst of the Worst” episode.  with both ears receiving full volume tunage, one cannot fully hear the degree to which one is completely off key.  all these people walking around singing at the top of their lungs sound like drowning cats!  today – and what prompted this rant – i wasn’t sure if the person walking down the street was singing, yelling at her honey on the phone, or actually on fire and trying to draw attention to that fact.  actually i’m not even sure it was a woman since i didn’t actually see this singer/drowner with my own eyes.

so … wow … kudos to whoever invents the future headphones that allow you to hear your awesome music but also hear yourself and adjust your tonage appropriately, or synthesize yourself like Cher.  now THAT would be an awesome product!

floundering up the company ladder

ladder tat dh

mess of life; 6.14

accidental happiness

 

I wasn’t planning on writing today. I wasn’t planning on thinking or pondering, or searching the vault for the right word to describe something.

What can I say? Some days there is no way to process life but through writing.

My morning walk started so beautifully, with the overcast sky, the cool air, and the scent of flowers on the wind. A beautiful mourning dove hovered over my head, looking for her nest, I thought. Unless she was hovering over me to bring me a message, which is quite possible because these birds are connected to my grandmother. I saw it as a good sign, along with the three silly squirrels who were playing a fierce game of tag, and a happy black butterfly that smiled at me as she flew by.

The second park I try to visit on my morning walk is something of a fairy wonderland…

View original post 1,390 more words

maybe tomorrow i can save the world…

i may have just resolved an ongoing dilemma i have struggled with for years.!.

i don’t want to call myself a perfectionist.  my house looks like a tornado touched down, or a collectibles paradise, depending on your perspective.  i screw up at work all the time, forgetting things i should remember, making messes here and there, and hearing selective bits of instruction rather than the whole.  seems to me a perfectionist would be doing all these things, well… perfectly!

but like a perfectionist, i am very hard on myself.  i expect great things from me, and on a sort of unrealistic scale.  not that i should find the cure for cancer, because i’m not in the medical field; or that i should discover the fix-it-all for global warming, for same reason.  i just always have this nagging, overhead feeling that i am responsible for … stuff.  that the world is waiting for me to do something amazing, and if i fail to live my day properly, the fragile balance of the universe will be thrown off balance and must just kill not only mankind, but God as well!

but since i’ve never really figured out what my “calling” is, or what i’m “supposed” to be doing with my life, i have the constant pressure of rescuing everything around me, and the ever-present feeling of impending doom and failure.

some people might say i have a Messianic complex.  or point out that my alcoholic father and whack-a-doo upbringing clearly make me just an “average”  stereotypical kid from self-destructive, narcissistic parents.

true, that.  but hopefully, maybe, i have come up with a miraculously easy mantra for myself, that is both ridiculously obvious, and impossibly profound.

this hard and long winter i have been lazy and enjoying my couch more than my workout videos.  oops!  but today i was actually engaged in my yoga practice!  now, having become a flesh bag of mashed potato instead of muscle, my yoga experience this morning was nothing like it could be, or is normally when i am consistent.  and normally i would chide myself for this, and yell a bit about how un-fit my thighs are, or how i can’t believe i don’t work out more consistently, or what a blah blah blah blah blah.  you know, just little reminders that i still haven’t saved the world or managed to change the oil in my car.

but i sort of out of nowhere said to myself: “this was a good workout for who i am today”.

now this may not sound earth shattering to you, although it is a nice warm, fuzzy kind of bullshit sounding new age type of thing you can throw around when you feel like crap but really want to pretend you are enlightened.

but for me – someone with multiple personalities – this is the greatest thing to come out of my brain since that last really cool dream i had!  because honestly, i never know what each day will bring…

for someone like…NOT me, it might be different.  you might have a goal, like going back to school, or running a 5K, or whatever, and meeting that goal can be tough.  kids to feed, bosses to please, classes or schedules or house cleaning…tons of stuff shoves its importance into your face and it takes a strong will to reach and complete a goal set for oneself.

for me, it’s kind of an amusement park, or a crime scene.  because i have more than one distinctive and developed personality, i have different interests.  and i might really really really want to work on a book i’m writing, but if i wake up a little fella – well i might just have to play video games all day instead.  or i might wake up a grumpy one, and then i want to be physical, or active, or just watch Dexter all day.  or i might just turn into someone who can’t spell or think very well because she doesn’t have the same language skill set that my writer mind has.

goal accomplishing becomes very tricky for me, and i walk around feeling like i haven’t done much of anything ever, because every one of my personalities feels stunted or gypped out of some really rewarding END of the task.

but at least this mantra addresses that; i can just acknowledge that for THIS day, for THIS me, i have done well.

and then maybe tomorrow i can save the world…

go back to bed

today i’m feeling worthless.

i’m feeling a fool.

i fall in love for no reason, with people that can’t be loved by me.  i hope for impossible things and believe in a mish.mash of curios.  i spend my time on things that i wish really mattered and impacted people, but in reality probably just comfort my anxious soul that feels like it’s wasted its life on stupid things like paying bills, fixing vehicles and dealing with crazy people at work.

i’m feeling broken, and tired, and as though i have finally recognized that i’m only a speck in an ocean of life, so now i have to ask myself if what i do or think or feel really even matters.

but really, when it come right down to it, i just need another cup of coffee.

hidey holes and such

Thank you to all of you who have started following my blog since the post “Flying Ford Anglia” was posted.  I’m glad you all enjoyed the post and started following, but a fair warning…you may not know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

I like to write, and I like to imagine myself a writer, and sometime I manage to come up with something that is witty or curious or just off the wall enough to make someone laugh.  However, this blog isn’t all full of crafted phrases and thought out ideas; it isn’t always something that deserves a thumbs’ up or a LIKE.  It is full of angst and swear words; crabby responses that can’t be voiced in front of a real person; minor ponderings of a soul gone astray.  It may interest you, it may not; but I wanted to let you know right off that it is ALL over the place.

But primarily, this blog is about my struggle and/or ease finding happiness in a crazy mixed up world.  This world is so chaotic now – what with random terrorism being more common place than shocking, and children mowing down their playmates with semi-automatics.  I don’t really know how anyone manages to go through this life without an occasional panic-attack, but I’ve been assured by some that they’ve never experienced one.

Not true for me.  In fact, lately I’ve been having all kinds of anxiety.  My heart pounds in my throat, and I can’t sleep through the night.  I’ve developed dark circles under my eyes, and l have a haunted face that I wear around the house.  You probably can’t tell this when I’m at work; I try hard to keep a stiff upper lip and carry on.  I smile and laugh and offer friendly service.  I go out of my way to help or nag, and sometimes complain about people that annoy me.  But inside lately is a belly of acidic juices churning to the beat of grumpy music.  Inside I’m a bucket of nerves that are like little live wires cut free from the electrical pole, squirming around, sparks a’ flyin.  I walk around looking like a normal (albeit odd) adult human being, but inside I’m raw and just a little thing.  In fact, I’m scared to death.

I sort of suspect that this is because of the third grade.  For those of you new to my scene, I have multiple personality disorder, and I’m struggling with working through that rather large can of worms.  Presently the worms are all coming from third grade, I think.

Third grade is an elusive situation.  I can’t really remember anything.  I have pretty much blocked the whole year out, and know only primary basics; like we lived with my grandmother that year, and my older sister chose to sleep and hang out in the garage, up in a pile of boxes that were stacked on top of each other reaching almost to the top of the garage ceiling.  We had moved out of a house we were renting, and whatever we could stuff of our belongings went into my gran’s garage, and my older sister buried herself in there like some kind of little mouse nestled in wood shavings.  And I only know this fact because she recently told me about it.

The stuff I know from that year in my life is that I was sleep walking a lot, and the next year I developed an ulcer, chronic headaches, nose bleeds, and asthma.  And the fact that pretty much the whole year (minus one or two vague memories) is obliterated from my memory makes me think something was pretty scary at that time in my life.

So all of that to say, right now – with my heightened anxiety over nothing, or little things – I sort of think that third grade personality is wanting to come out, wanting to deal with her stuff.

And it’s freaking me out.  I’ve spent my whole life squishing down bad memories and scary monsters.  I’ve spent a great many years lying to myself that there are no skeletons in my closet, and bolting it up just to be sure.  I am scared to death of the memories of a little nine year old girl making their way into my life, and making a shambles of my existence.

But I guess, to be who I need to be, and to embrace the beauty of the darkest side of my soul, I must.

So hang on if you want, follow if you dare, the ride may be bumpy, I just don’t know…

i was going to do a different blog than this one; a zen-do-da blog (see link for more on zen-do-da if you don’t know what that is)

i was all set to be blissful and encouraging and uplifting.  i’ve read The Secret,TheSecretLogo you know, and other books like that.  i DO believe that we have the option and power to make our lives what we want.  sort of.  i mean, i believe that changing our thoughts for the better equals finding and receiving better things.  but this blog went south on me…sort of literally.

so i’m in the bathroom (hey we all poop, there’s a book about it)

Everyone Poops by Taro Gomi

Everyone Poops
by Taro Gomi

and i’m reading one of these happy books, telling me that i’m in control.  usually in these situations (moments of … reclining in the restroom) i’m working a Sudoku puzzle.  i know, i know, TMI.  whatever.  but i’m out of puzzles for this purpose, so i’m reading this feel good book and making notes with my little red pen.  and i’m all “la la la, life is good” when i drop my pen down the toilet.  for real??

and i’m wondering to myself: how does an artist or writer apply the ideas and beliefs of the Secret to his life?  and i’m hoping any of you followers out there will join in on this as a discussion.  because The Secret poses a dilemma for those of us in the art industry.

if i were a professional bowler, or a mail delivery agent, or a worker in any one of a million different fields, i could see how The Secret thinking could improve my life and my productivity.  but for those of us who are writers and artists, how do we make this work?

if you haven’t read The Secret, i highly recommend you do.  otherwise you will have no idea what i’m talking about here, and that’s no fun at all.  basically the premise is that what you think is what you get.  if you put out a bunch of negative thoughts and energy, that’s what you are bringing right back to you.  if, on the other hand, you are putting out love, and happiness, and good thoughts, you will be getting back same.

ok, you may or may not agree with all that.  that we will save for another blog.

this blog wants discussion.

if i’m a writer, i can’t just sit and write about a girl picking daisies all day.  boring. then she goes and walks along the beach, and finds a million dollars in a packet of 10’s and 20’s, non sequentially numbered and wrapped in a pink bow, so she doesn’t even have to claim taxes if she doesn’t want.  and along came mr. right, you get the picture.  i can’t do this.  as an artist, i CAN’T sit and look at the beautiful all day long, because that isn’t where all the heart tearing emotions lie.

the heart tearing emotions, the things that MOVE us are in the dark!  they are lying in a gutter, homeless and underfed.  they are sitting at the table with a morning cup of coffee, crying over their mashed up marriage or their dying soul.  they are tying themselves up in sheets at night from tossing and turning over their nightmares.  THIS is where the interest is for a writer, or painter, or a poet.  the angst.  the pain.  the agonizing loneliness of life.

because we all feel it at times, and tapping into that commonality is magical, and links us all together till we are one spool of thread.

so all you blogging authors and feely artists out there, how do we make The Secret work for us, without losing the inspiration that grief and sorrow provide?

discuss:

MAD Monday

I can’t believe it’s been a whole week since my life-changing day of MAD Monday.

explanation:

I’ve been doing a recurring blog that I think has made a huge impact in my life, and I wanted to share just in case – you know – it’s a magical formula for world peace or something.  Of course, if it is I probably should have Trade Marked it and bottled it for maximum financial rewards…ah well.  I must be a philanthropist at heart.

Every Monday on my blog “Luv Lansing” (that’s where I live, Lansing) I do a feature called “MAD Monday”.  This stands for Make A Difference Monday.  There is a Make A Difference Day, and I just decided, hell…Mondays kind of tend to suck, so why I’m I waiting all year to Make A Difference when I could just waste a little lousy Monday time making a difference.

And then, lousy Monday started making a difference on me.  In my Make A Difference Monday blogs,  I tend to post approximately four different volunteer opportunities for people in my area to get involved with.  Usually I find out about these on Volunteer Match.  These might be things like volunteer as a sign up reception person at the Red Cross, or help out at the YMCA.  And then I post a little information about the group, a picture or two, link to them so people can go right to the source, or direct them through Volunteer Match so they can check out MORE opportunities if they like.

Well here’s the thing: I’ve always wanted to do this kind of thing.  Volunteer here or there; donate monies to worthy organizations; travel the world working with doctors in underdeveloped countries or helping to save the dolphins. Or some other far reaching idea that is equal to raising unicorns on a sandy beach or having a barn full of dragons.  You know?  Because I am a civil worker, and live on a very meager income at this point in my life.  And I live FINE, but it’s not like I’m able to contribute to all these groups I would like to contribute to, or pick up and go to Africa for a month to help re-establish the dwindling cheetah community.

makeamon

MAD Monday
photo by Molly Kearney

So I’ve sort of been putting off contributing…until I had all the extra millions I will make from being a smart ass, once the world decides it really should financially support those of us who are caustic, wry and smart assy.  I’ve been wanting to donate, but I guess waiting for … extra.

And doing this weekly article about volunteering has suddenly made the leap in my brain.  Even if I can’t volunteer myself today, I can help someone else volunteer.  Someone who maybe doesn’t have to go to work, because they have a sugar daddy, or they are retired, or they just have oodles of cash they found in their previous job as a pillaging pirate.  And now, every week, I look forward to that crappy Monday morning, because I know I’m going to get this buzz from the blog.  And it’s OK that I’m saying this all wrong, and not magically, so that you think “Oh My God, this is the most awesome thing ever, and I will do this in MY community!”  Because I’m a little crazy right now, cause I’ve just done the MAD Monday blog, and it makes me a little hyper, and excited about life, or it makes me sit and cry all day, like last week.  And luckily for me, it builds my karma points, so that I can go to work the rest of the week and deplete all those karma points and still come out OK in the end, cause my MAD Monday gave me so many extra.

Weeee…see?  It’s good for you!

Go here to see my blog, and maybe you’ll do one in your own city??  MAD Monday rocks!

all of me

was this really my very first blog? whew…

accidental happiness

Denelle Hobbs

I’ve been thinking over some words of wisdom from a friend. Things like ‘don’t get upset’ or encouragements to not get tied up in my emotions. And while I appreciate the thoughts, and the hope that I will be well, I disagree with the overall ideas. I love my emotions. I’m not a very Zen person. I can’t wrap my mind around the idea that I must let go of my attachments to people, things, ideals that I love; or situations that anger me, or that I think should be altered toward a better outcome. Why do I need me to stop feeling in order to grow as a person? I don’t believe I do.
I won’t be beaten into submission by a God that is afraid of my emotional outbursts.
I won’t be tricked into complacency by a religious system that prefers numbness to the powerful and…

View original post 91 more words