Friday, May 27, 2011

The Learning Curve for Us Almost Half-Century Olds

My learning curve is usually two wheels on the wall at 200mph, but don't let that scare you. Here are a few things I have learned in the last 43 years of living:

You WILL use the math you learned in high school. When you're desperately trying to understand your second grader's homework problems.

Reading and understanding maps is a valuable skill. It may be us paper users that killed off the forests, but at least we'll be able to find our way out of the rubble when the aliens attack and shoot down all you techies' gps systems.

Ditto for counterfeiting money. (just kidding Mr. Government)

Being politically correct is for the birds. If I have offended any birds by making that statement I heartily apologize, I never meant to piss you off and will never do that again. You little angry fuckers.

There are no politicians. Just CEOs, CFOs and Godfathers.

It IS how good you look on the outside. Barbie for President.

Speaking of Barbie, and Princesses for that matter, there is NO SUCH THING AS FOREVER! Even old, miserable married people die off eventually.

The little asshole who called  you "thunder thighs" when you were 11 and feeling desperately bizarre and awkward because of the pre-pubescent plague coming upon you is now fat, bald, scabby and miserable. Even if he isn't it's ok to think he is and then let that stupid comment go. FINALLY. *sigh*

With hundreds of millions of people on this planet don't you think the odds of having only one soulmate is a bit daft?

Aaaand, soulmates…they come and they go. Sometimes they come back. And then you wonder "What was all the fuss about?"

You can love someone, marry him, divorce him, watch him get a girlfriend, share your kids with her, watch her take your place in the family you once loved and cherished, realize your ex mother-in-law always hated you and loves her drive the truck you bought with him, finally lose your house, go bankrupt and drive a crappy car into the ground and LIVE TO BITCH ABOUT IT.

You can love two men at one time. But there's only ever the one you're in love with. (Don't associate that statement with my ex-husband please).

Life is about adventure, taking risks and being your own person. Never kowtow to anyone's expectations of who you "should be" and always speak your truth.

At this moment I will break for a Politically Correct statement to cover my ass:
I am a straight woman and therefore all statements regarding love or relationships heretofore and henceforth modus operandi habeas corpus in reference to "him," "men," "man" or any form of reference to lusting after anyone of masculine nature are from  my own personal experiences blah blahbitty blah. Gay Men should have no problem relating to these statements, but Straight Guys or Lesbians should switch out "men" for "women" because it SEEMS I don't think you're smart enough to think of that on your own. And, as with the birds, I heartily apologize for that idiotic inference and will only henceforth be rude to slugs as they don't have the capability of thinking, emotional reaction or suing. Furthermore and e pluribus unum that last statement was made in my "sick, dark and disturbing" humor (mentioned below) and, ergo, has no intention to imply that Straight Men or Lesbians are unintelligent,  associated with slugs, or that I in any way don't like anyone of any nature, which, at certain times of the month or in really bad traffic IS true but not here at THIS time etc., and so forth. Some of my very good friends are lesbians and I think I have made it clear that straight men ring my bell. Besides, Lesbians are TOTALLY smart and awesome because they're WOMEN and we all know straight guys can be a bit dim…. You know what. I am just going to stop here.

I think Latin should be resurrected.

And why is it anything read in an English accent sounds smart? The phone book sounds academic in an English accent. Who gave them the Hoity-toity Pass anyway?

My reality is not your reality. Which may or may not be a scary thing.

I really am a cheerleader. Do you know how painful that was to realize?

That old adage "will this matter in five years?" is very helpful. Except when you file bankruptcy. Then it's "will this matter in seven years?"

The roller-coaster of life only comes to a complete stop when you're DEAD. So enjoy the ups and downs because even the downs are better than DEAD.

Cynicism (see all of the above) can be your best friend when you've been divorced twice and single at almost a half-century old. Fuck.

So is dark, sick and almost-but-not-quite disturbing humor. (See, I told you).

Also on my best-friend list: dimly lit anywheres. And Photoshop filters. I think even the outside should be lit by candles.

"I don't know" is one of the most freeing phrases in all humanity.

So is "God please empty my head out"

Non-sequiturs are the verbal nectar of life.

You can skip through a meadow on a bright sunshiny day with daisies in your hands, or you can skip through the local dump tossing black rose petals. No matter what, just keep skipping.  Because at the very least you're getting some form of exercise.

It's ok to eat more cookie dough than you bake. Otherwise they wouldn't put it in ice cream.

Your body is a finely tuned machine. Look at how perfectly it reacts when you have had to pee for an hour and finally get within 5 steps of a toilet.

What doesn't kill you makes you stranger. I did not come up with that. Please don't sue me if YOU did. I mean you can try, but did you read that whole "single, divorced bankrupt mother of two" blurb?

I realize "single, divorced, bankrupt mother of two" will only get me so far for so long. Someday I'll just qualify myself as a "woman" plain and simple.

I think all my straight guy friends who want to make a stupid comment about linking "woman," "plain" and "simple" should shut their cakeholes before they get a stiletto down their gobs. Gay men feel free to comment because I know you understand what I meant, isn't that right? THAT'S right.

Ya know what? Anyone that is offended by anything I say can just suck it. Seriously. And I mean that in only the friendliest, most loving and caring way possible. I mean, really, you do realize you've been offended by a plain and simple woman, right?

Being abnormal is waaaay more interesting than normal. I feel sorry for normal people. And I'm sure they feel sorry for me. It's almost like walking through this world in two different dimensions.  You can see all the normal people but you can't really interact with them. Yes. My life is much like a never-ending Twilight Zone episode. Or "Inception" for all you sad little freaks of nature that think "Twilight Zone" is about vampires and werewolves.

That would explain why I hear Rod Serling in my head narrating my every move. I said Rod Serling. Not Rob Pattinson.

I think it's perfectly ok to create a "My Life Soundrack" playlist and then be-bop around town like you're in a finely scripted movie because having your own soundtrack makes you arty. And we all know arty is a euphemism for cool. Or insane. Depends on if you're on the "normal" side of town or the "abnormal" side of town.

Speaking of weird, I believe that we are not alone in this universe. Good news for us space geek romantics: That just opened the soulmate pool up by BILLIONS.

That's it for now. I've learned a lot more. There's a lot more I'm on the verge of learning and even more that I realize I don't give a rat's ass about. But I'm sure I'll deluge you with more of that crap sooner than later.

Angry Birds Attack Bank of America

Single mom, newly divorced, trying to stay in her condo, tired of fighting the banks, appealing to their humanity or being enslaved to the home she and her two daughters live in – the home where both little girls were born and raised – straps on massive artillery over her head to toe black industrial leather (and quite sexy) clothing, hops on her Hyabusa and screams at indecent speeds down the freeway to the headquarters of Bank of America in the middle of the night and, with weaponry that would make the boys of Blackhawk Down hopeful, takes out the largest crook in America, single-handedly freeing up hundreds of thousands of Americans grifted out of hard-earned money just to stay in a place they call home. She rides home, makes a midnight grilled cheese sandwich, dismisses the babysitter, checks on and kisses both little girls and then settles down for the best sleep of her life. The end.

With the exception of everything that comes after the "...straps on massive artillery..." that's the plot of my life at this time. Instead of digging my heels in and spending exorbitant amounts of energy and time that I don't have to gather paperwork, make calls, investigate and fight Bank of America, I'm just gonna walk away from my condo. I'm short-selling. Attempting to move to an apartment about five minutes from where I work. Call me a quitter. I've quit lots of things in my life. I have no shame in quitting when the fight becomes irrelevant. I don't know what's sadder...people who fight themselves into the grave or people who consistently give up when the going gets too rough. Both are sad.

I think I'm somewhere in the middle.  I give it a good shot...when something seems impossible and I say "I can't" something clicks in me where I immediately turn into "Oh, but I can, someway, somehow make this work."

Have you ever played Angry Birds? There are some levels that are A BITCH to get through. Even youtubing tutorials can't help and all that you can do to get through the level is keep flicking stupid (but cute) little, angry birds til the walls come tumbling down. But what I realized in some of my quite obsessive almost hypnotic playing, replaying AND replaying of some levels is that every one of them has a way to be beaten. The developer didn't create a level that's impossible to get through. You just have to think about the weak points, aim, shoot and keep trying til you get every single stupid, green oinking pig dead as a package of bacon in your grocer's meat section, crushed beneath virtual wood, stone and metal detritus.

If you have never played Angry Birds, disregard that last paragraph and understand this: There IS a way to get through anything in life. There's a way to "beat" any situation. It just depends on how much you are willing to sit down and assess what's in front of you. Then, from there it depends on just how much you're willing to focus on and devote yourself to winning the game. So to speak.

If you're ready and able to stay in a fight for the long-haul, then great. But there comes a time, *laughs – even in video games!*  when you get sick and tired of trying the same thing over and over then switching up strategies and nope that doesn't work let's go back to plan G... There comes a time when you have to sit down and say is all this REALLY worth it?

Maybe some time has passed. Maybe your priorities are different than they were a week, a year, 5 years ago. Maybe your health is declining (my last two doctor visits I had high blood-pressure readings...I've NEVER had high bp in my entire life. EVER). Maybe you're getting depressed, trying to stay positive most days and some days you're just sad. Maybe your fight seems more robotic than passionate. Maybe...just maybe quitting isn't really about giving up. Even if you know if you had a little more time, a little more effort you could win. Maybe it's just about realizing life is not really about stress and good fronts and status and what we have. It's about happiness. Peace. Serenity. LIVING.

Life is about living. If I'm a slave to anyone or anything I'm not living my life. I'm just existing. I've "only existed" at various points in my lifetime and I much prefer the breathing, laughing, freeing aspect of LIVING today. If that doesn't make sense to you, that's ok. It makes sense to me.

So I am going through the roller-coaster emotions of philosophical contentment to fear of leaving my comfort zone (regardless of how uncomfortable it is)...leaving the town I grew up in, and moving away from family and friends (not far...about 30 minutes) to start a new life in a familiar area. Like I've written before, life is meant to be an adventure. Today I choose not to look at the negatives of downsizing and renting and all that crap. Today I look at the positive: a fresh start, a new life, new chances, new faces, new adventures.

Plus, out here I am told that at night the only thing you hear are coyotes. And an occasional car. I tell you, that does this country-girl-at-heart some mighty good. I'm tired of squealing tires, sirens and the constant drone of the rubber river that runs in front of my condo.

Now...if they could just put a BofA building in the next version of Angry Birds...oh that would be SWEET.