Posts Tagged ‘honesty’


Stick your head out the window…

May 25, 2011

I’m finding the hardest thing to do in life is be honest about how you feel, what you need, who you are and what you want. My reasons for holding back are fear of what people think of me and no matter how many times I give myself the “I don’t give a damn” pep-talk…I really do give a damn. How do I know this? Simple, I Twitter. I’ve had my account for well over 2 years and it wasn’t until recently that I decided to branch out and start meeting new tweeters. Little did I know that meant opening myself up to a world of hate and ridicule. After seeing a photo of my 5th grade self you’d think I’d be used to this kind of thing. I’m not. And quite honestly – yep, I’m being honest at the expense of hurting someone – no amount of therapy in North America, Australia or Greenland will ever condition me to handle it. For this reason, I work very hard at not saying anything that someone else might find hurtful or offensive.

This is coming at my own detriment and taking a toll on my creativity.

I’d estimate that around 6 times a week I tweet something that I almost immediately retract for fear of recourse from other tweeters. This makes me a coward and — this is the hardest thing to say — a phoney. I’ve always prided myself on NOT being fake and the fact that I’m allowing a social networking site to slowly erode my character is ridiculous. What is it that I’m trying to prove? That I’m funny? I already know I am. That I’m witty? Yep, I’ve got this one too. That I’m able to communicate an idea or emotion effectively to a large audience? Well now…I might be on to something with that last one. Can I do this? Am I effective? Does anyone else besides me and my mother care what I think, feel or have to say? I’m honestly not sure, and more importantly, I’m honestly not sure it really matters.


This might be the golden suitcase* of Twitter! The elusive thing we’re all grasping at but just can’t seem to wrap our hands around. Maybe we’re trying too hard to not care when the secret is that we shouldn’t care. In the end you’ll be the one faced with yourself and have to answer for the kind of person you turned out to be. No one else is going to be there to do that for you. So what does it matter what someone -anyone- else thinks of you?

*I use this visual reference more often than any other in my daily life. It’s the best thing to ever come from a Quentin Tarantino film. Well that, and, Salma Hayek dancing nearly nude with a boa wrapped around her neck.


She’s the one…

October 4, 2009

Really want to learn something about yourself without spending thousands of bucks laying on some couch in therapy?  Easy.  Keep a journal that goes into every no-one-will-ever-know-about-this detail and put it away for 10 years.  Then, have a large glass of Trader Joe’s Shiraz after taking a hot shower and happen upon it on the top shelf of the master bath the linen closet.  Make the decision to half-pluck your eyebrows* and use the time you’ve saved on sitting down to read what you wrote.  Amazing.

Even though the journal doesn’t date back to the time when I used to sit at home on snowy winter afternoons and watch this movie dreaming of one day having an ass that didn’t hang over the tops of my thighs, reading the zest for life and drama that I packed into a little over a hundred pages made me start signing this song.  I always believed I was someone special and it was only a matter of time before other people clued into the secret.  Call me disillusioned but we only get one spin around in life and I still want to make the most of it — joy, tears, or what-have-you.  Reading those pages only reinforced that.

Look out Monday – here I come!

*Sitting here now I realize that skimping on my normal eyebrow-plucking-time was probably a smart move considering I don’t want to have to draw them onto my face for the next few weeks while waiting for them to grow back in.  Slightly buzzed plucking is not recommended.


I’ll show you my flair…

September 19, 2009

The non-stop rain we’ve been living in down here in the south gives me the perfect excuse to be a little moody (I know, I know…like a need an excuse) so I’m taking the opportunity to remind everyone what is courteous and what is not.

Let’s start with what is.

Leaving the parking spaces closest to the building open for people who just might have small children in toe is.  I can honestly say that when I’m flying solo – I park in the back of a lot.  It’s not like my chunky-fanny couldn’t use a little extra toning anyway.  Walking through the parking lot is a pretty easy way to burn a couple extra calories.  It’s also considered courteous to not block entrances and walkways that are clearly marked “No Parking” or “Drop Off Only”.  Others around you enjoy having the ability to get into and out of places (whether solo or not) without having to pull a Bo Duke in order to gain entry to a building.

Let me show you what is not.


Apparently this ass-clown (yep, it was a guy) believes that it’s not only his right to park as close to the building as he feels is necessary – but he also pays no attention to walkways.  I just so happened to be walking through the opening you notice now completely blocked by his coupe-de-graw when he was pulling into the alcove.  I stopped, and waited for him to pass through.  Uummmm…ok then.  Guess I’ll just squeeze my cheeks around your hood then.  No worries.  It’s all good.  I’m just walking here.  In the walkway.  WALKWAY.

*I will tell you that while I do not park in these spaces – I have no issues with people who chose to take “Expectant Mother” parking even when it’s obvious they are hardly expecting.  Unless you count expecting-to-have-a-heart-attack-from-excessive-alcohol-and-fried-food-consumption as “expecting”.  In that case, those posted signs take on a whole new meaning.


Shit for brains…

April 28, 2009

I’m finally getting the hang of Twitter.  Now that I don’t use it soley for the purpuse of telling anyone who will listen “what I’m doing” and instead share more along the lines of “what I’m thinking” it’s all making sense.  I’ve heard my work neighbor describe it as a *mico-blog* numerous times and it’s just now clicked.  Why should I spend hours posting on this blog when I can express myself in 140 charaters or less?  With tiny URLs included at no extra charge!  FTW!

Funny story to add.  Or maybe not so much funny as interesting.  Or maybe no so interesting at all.  I mistyped the address when logging into Twitter tonight and got a maybe-no-one-will-notice-it’s-not-the-real-thing Twitte.  ‘Twit’ is right.