Over the past 9 days I’ve gone through so many emotions. I’ve felt irritated, empowered, angry,  depressed, and weak. There have been a few days when I haven’t been bothered at all, then others when it was all I could do not to flip out. I’m not gonna lie… I even broke down on Saturday and had a few puffs (after a few drinks) but I don’t think it set me back much. More than anything, I want to be healthier. Eventually I want to be disgusted by cigarettes- but for now, if I can cut myself down to a few puffs a week, then I think I can be ok with that. In fact, more than anything, I’m just proud of myself for not going postal on everyone who smiled at me and told me with their clean teeth and untainted fingernails that they were not addicted to smoking… that, and for not gouging my own eyeballs out with a number two pencil. I’ve also upped my pen chewing 123%, but I think I can deal with that.

I don’t know whether it’s the quitting smoking or the turning into a  28 year old woman, (and I use that term loosely) but lately I’ve been feeling like doing a little more soul searching than usual. For an example, last Thursday night I HAD to go see the meteor shower. At about 10:30 pm I dragged my roommate LA and Moops out of bed and made them drive me 45 minutes out into the country so that we could have a clear view of the sky. We drove forever, and finally found a patch of grass on the side of the highway to spread our blanket on. The three of us lay there  side by side in peace, trying to understand the vast arch above us. This lasted about 7 minutes when we begin to get bitten my gigantic Mothra-esque creatures, which made me remember the podcast I had listened to earlier that evening about ticks and the diseases that they carried. Just as we were gathering up the blanket, I saw 3 shooting stars which sent the three of us back into a trance for about 30 seconds until a cop pulled up.

This cop wasn’t your run of the mill city cop, no siree. This man was old, walked with a limp, and even wore an old fashioned badge. We didn’t freak out as we ususally would in cop sitchyeeatshuns, because for once, we weren’t actually doing anything wrong. He explained that he “had got a tele that some der folks were layin out on der road.” I kind of wanted to hug him because he was the first person I’d seen in at least a few days that could have walked straight out of a movie. Regardless we left, and I was forced to continue my soul searching elsewhere.

 (I took an ambien this evening and the majority of that previous paragraph was written in southern-cop accent, in case you couldn’t tell.)

Later that night, I decided to try to meditate. I put on a guided medidtation cd that I bought a few years ago when I decided I wanted to be a Buddhist, but all I could think about was how hairy my toes were and how much I wanted to go downstairs and eat some tuna salad and maybe even some popcorn… so after about 5 minutes of feigned calm breathing, I went downstairs, shaved my toes and ate a bunch of food. FAIL.

Some friends came in town this weekend and we spent the majority of our time playing Mario Party, which in a way a meditation of escaping reality, but for the most part I forgot about my quest to become a better person. Sunday night we went to see Eat Pray Love, which got me thinking all over again. Not necessarily about the movie… it was ok and all and I kind of want to lick Javier Bardem from head to toe, but all in all the whole thing seemed a bit contrived. I didn’t read the book and I don’t know much about the author, but it irritated me a bit that this whole story was based upon a woman who was most likely paid a book deal to go on the “quest” to find herself. But still, it made me want to do so even more. But what can I do?

I don’t really believe in bullshit self help books (no offense to anyone who uses them) but I was feeling like I didn’t have any other options, so this morning I broke down and downloaded “The Secret.” Yeah, that book that everyone and their great grandmother has read and apparantely became millionaires after reading it. I’m about half way through, and I have very mixed feelings. One the one hand,I agree that positive thinking is a.. well positive way to live your life. The more positive you think, the more active you are going to be in trying to reach your goals (though the book claims that all you have to do is “believe” that you will  become the person you want to be, and that you are that person already, and then acracadabra boom hiss your wish will be granted. )the better chance you have of actually obtaining them. But on the other hand, I have always believed that once you picture a scenario in detail- then there is a 99% chance that that exact scenario will never play out in that exact manner. If it did, wouldn’t that be some sort of deja vu space/time continuim fuck up?

I don’t know, but I think I’m thinking about this too hard. I don’t think these books are meant for cynical, questioning people like myself. I will try to apply more positive thinking to my life, and I do think that I could benefit from meditating more often, but I also think I need begin to work things out on a more rational level. My own way. I don’t have it all planned out. I have goals (see my last post) but I don’t have a clue about where I want to be in 20 years. I would like to be financially stable, but I don’t spend my nights dreaming about being a millionaire. I don’t have a dream job, I don’t have an innate desire to have a family at this point in my life… so maybe I just need to start with my small goals.I’m going to devise my own self-help stragedy. Like quitting smoking. I can do this. I will kick this. (Check out my positive thinking, yo). I’ve quit other things before. So perhaps I shall start with something small to help my cause. Maybe I should list out all the things I’ve quit before.

Here we go.

*I quit chewing on my knuckles at the age of four. Granted my doctor told me if I didn’t he’d cut them off. Also take note.. this was the first clue I had an intense oral fixation.

*I quit going to algebra my sophomore year of college because it stressed me out and cause a 3am breakdown when I ran out of lead of my mechanical pencil.

.*I quit watching Lost after the second season because it was stressing me out that nothing. ever. happened.

*I quit my job at the costume shop because my boss was a misogynistic blow hole, who made me pick up sequins while down on my knees in a mini-skirt and wouldn’t let me go home to get some sanitary help for my lady problem. He also told me I was stupid because I couldn’t work the cash register.

*I quit eating most dairy products because they make me feel like there is an angry, drunken, bowling team in my belly.

*I quit my job at the sandwich shop because I lost a nail in the vegetables and I was  probably going to get fired when they found out.

*I quit caring and talking about politics when I realized both sides are liars, but mostly because I wasn’t sure that I even cared.

*I’ve quit reading the Twilight series, Harry Potter, and every biography I’ve ever started. Mostly because of commitment issues.

*I quit going to my trainer because I had a crush on him and I found out he was like 6 years younger than me and I didn’t want to be a cougar at the age of twenty seven. Also I needed an extra $125 a month. Also because I don’t like people telling me what to do.

Hmmm… I’m sure there’s more but I’m tired and so I think I’ll quit writing now. I think we’ve established that I’m pretty good at quitting things. Especially things that suck. So now I just have to apply that to smoking, I suck on cigarettes, right? So technically they kind of suck (or blow)… Either way, I think this helped. If for nothing else, it’s helped me see that I don’t deal with stress very well, which is precisely why I smoked for so long,

Oye vey this ambien is making this confusing and I’m getting stressed again. More on this later, maybe. I’m off to suck on a lozenge, which is a word I still haven’t figered out how to pronounce.

Tootles.

Image via Wikipedia

At the very least, I would like for the entire world to realize that Nickelback sucks hairy balls!

You know what? That’s not even fair. I am not even going to pretend that I know enough about music to say that they are musically shitty, because I’m sure they have at least a little talent or they wouldn’t be winning Grammys and what not. I do know enough about hearing things to know that listening to Chad Kroeger sing is only about 3 steps away from being literally raped in the ear.

Which is precisely what has been happening to me all week.

I get it Jack FM. You play what YOU want. And that is the exact opposite of what I want about 17 times every day.

Every time I hear those first few chords and his whiny groan of a voice chime out with-”How the hell we end up like this?” a little part of me dies.

And yes, I realize that that this may seem a little hypocritical considering that am writing this a day after posting how horrible of a singer I am myself. But you know what? I don’t get paid millions and millions of dollars to entertain people with my voice. (Though I bet I COULD  get paid tens of dollars NOT to entertain my five co-workers in my office.)

It does please me to see that there really is a lot of Nickelback hate out there. I’ve probably  heard more people say that they hate Nickelback than I’ve hear people say they hate Kanye West. If all the hate, then why are they still all over the radio? I’m starting to be convinced that half the people who say they “hate” this band are just doing it to get on the hateorade bandwagon. Maybe it’s just become trendy to shout out your angst at a band whom you haven’t really even formed a proper opinion about and then go home and buy forty dollars worth of their music on itunes to see what the hate is all about, therefore leading the radio people to believe that people want to hear this Godforsaken music and cause them to play it all freaking day. (I only know this happens because I have fallen for it myself. Thank you Miley Cyrus.)

I’ll be honest. Maybe I haven’t given them a proper chance. It’s not like I’ve heard any of there songs besides the five that are played 13 trazillion times on the radio every day. Nor do I want to.

My hate comes from a very personal experience, one  not even related to their music, (though I still think their music sucks) one that Ive spoken of briefly before.

Back when I was in college, our football team made it to the playoffs  resulting in a bowl game in New Orleans. I was involved in  a drinking spirit organization that went to all the football games and drank cheered from the stands. During After the football game, I went down to Bourbon street to meet up with a friend who had moved away a few years before, and had also come in town for the bowl game.

We met at one of those little stands where they sell the big Hurricane drinks (you know those tall red drinks you can buy on the side of the street with an umbrella stuck in it??) We had  just retrieved our drinks (though I was probably already quite a few deep) when we decided we should take pictures to celebrate our reunion and to show off our Hurricanes.

There were three of us gathered and we all wanted to be in the picture, so I looked around to see if there was anyone around who I could trust to take it.

I approached a group of people nearby who were dressed anywhere from “homeless” to “douche-bag,” but seeing as there was no one else around, I decided to ask them anyway.

CJ: Would one of  you mind taking a picture of us? My friends and I all want to be in it?”

I spoke openly to the group. As I did, the group all shifted their attention to the homeless looking greasy man in the center, who was obviously their leader.

Homeless looking greasy man: “Well sure ladies, I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”

He left his spot in the group and walked past the camera that I held out for him.

CJ: Umm… Nervous laughter.…

Homeless looking greasy man: Where would you like me to stand? As he is already edging himself between my friends and I, putting his arms around our shoulders.

CJ: Tehhehee… actually, we were just gonna see if you could take a picture of us! We haven’t seen each other in a while and don’t really want a stranger in our picture.

The homeless looking greasy man was taken aback. He clearly thought we were joking until we had reposed without him and I was once again trying to hand him my camera.

Homeless looking greasy man’s group finally took notice of what was going on, and all at once started talking.

“Do you know what you’re doing?? one of them said. “That’s fucking Chad Kroeger!!!”

CJ: Okkkkkkk? (and why do I care?)

“The lead fucking singer for Nickelback you bitch.”

CJ: Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhh. (shit!… But still,  who cares? No reason to act like an asshole.)

Homeless looking Greasy man AKA Chad Kroeger: Fuck you, Fuck you bitches.

Then we laughed and ran away as fast as we could.

Looking back, I can understand that he may have been embarrassed to assume that we wanted a picture with him.

Regardless, to tell someone “Fuck you” for not recognizing you? Add in the ability to kill small children with the sound of your voice?

Suck it, Chad Kroeger. I’ll never forgive you.

The fact that I am kind of a walking natural disaster has actually worked to my advantage in some aspects of  life.

I rarely have to carry groceries into the house, as my roommates are quick to grab the bags before I get a chance to shut the carton of eggs in the car door or trip and fall on a carton of milk. People have come to expect that I will naturally forget to unplug my hair straightener, and have learned to routinely check my room for plugged in appliances and lit candles, thus saving me the shame of burning down a building. I’m rarely made responsible for planning anything, and no one ever wants to ride in my car-so I’m never designated driver.

I want to take this time to sincerely apologize to every person in my life who has had to endure  any of these situations. (etc.) I know there are some things that I cannot change about myself, but there are some things that I would be willing to try to work on, mostly for my own sake…but you’re sure to benefit as well.

• From this point on, I’m really going to try to return to practicing the age-old habit of brushing my teeth twice a day.  I do floss quite often, and always brush before I leave home- but seeing that I haven’t been to the dentist in like 8 yrs- (I’m waiting for Obama-care) I feel that I should go to extra lengths to ensure I don’t lose my teeth before the age of 30.  How you will benefit: Talking to me will become a much more pleasant experience and you will not run the risk of death by holding-your-own-breath -for- too -long.

• As much as it pains me, I will quit forcing all the people I know , love, and just met, to listen to me sing all eleven minutes of Meatloaf’s “Paradise By the Dashboard Light.” I won’t even sing my camp version. I can’t take it out of my road-trip play list, but I can vow to only play it one time… (each way.) How you will benefit: No more bleeding ears and you won’t be singing “gonna go all the way tonight” in your head for weeks.

• I’m going to start hanging clothes up after washing them. I will no longer take them out of the dryer and immediately put them on a pile on the floor. I realize now, that when I do this it only takes about two days before they get mixed in with the dirty ones, and I end up wearing dirty underwear to work. I will also try to actually fold my t-shirts and pants before stuffing them into my dresser. I might even go so far as trying to iron one item of clothing a month. This is gonna be a tough-ey. How you will benefit: You won’t really. Except for you won’t have to waste as much energy of pointing out the ketchup stain on my shirt, and you’ll be spared the scene of watching me try to get out the stain with my spit and my finger.

• By foot powder and use it. (self explanatory)

• From now on, I will no longer be leaving half-full cups of water around the house or next to my bed. If I come home to find one more cup of three day old water spilled on my keyboard, ( I HATE THOSE FRICKIN CATS!!!) I am likely to have an aneurysm. I should probably stop drinking liquid all together to save more carpets. Maybe I’ll just lean over the sink and slurp water out.. or buy a sippie cup.  How you will benefit: You will no longer have to suffer the wrath  that comes out when I come home to find water spilt on my make-up next to the bed. My mood swings will become fewer and far-between.

• I vow to not drink wine for one week.

• I’m going to make a conscious effort not to chew on every pin I pick up. I know disgusted you must when I hand back your now unrecognizable  bic , that now has a pen cap that looks like it has been man-handled by the terminator. The same goes for other small pieces of plastic. I am really thankful when people let me borrow a sip from their water bottle, and for now on I won’t hand it back to you with a mangled top. Along these same lines, I will try to wain myself from doodling inappropriate objects on other people’s documents, and I will resist the urge to straighten every bobby pin and paperclip I come across. How you will benefit: Duh, you’re stuff won’t be disgustingly ruined by someone else’s mouth.

• I will try try try not to rub the cab drivers back on drunken cab rides. I will also refrain from using one accent for too long of a time (in public. (See my last post.) How you will benefit: Your dignity will still be intact.

I think this will give me enough to work on for the time being. I’m open for suggestions if you would like to anonomously let me know if there is anything else you would like me to work on. Just be nice, I’m sensitive.