Hello, again, Stranger.

0

Why, hello.  It’s been a while since I’ve been around these neck of the woods.

In fact, it’s been so long that I actually forgot my username and password. #facepalm

It has been 5 months since you’ve last heard from me.  School is out.  I survived — granted the last few weeks had lots of drama, tension, and tears — but I survived.  Now I am on 2 1/2 months of vacation and I don’t know what the heck to do with myself.  I’ve been working so hard, non-stop, that I am literally having trouble sleeping at night.  My body is exhausted, but my mind is still racing with all these ideas and thoughts about work/school, that I can’t get it to stop.  I spent 90% of the night tossing and turning and getting frustrated that sleep is eluding me.  Even Melatonin isn’t working for me.  #fml  I know working out is supposed to be helpful.  But come on.  You know that ain’t happening.

Besides getting a break from work, not much else has changed.  Except for the fact that 2 weeks ago, I turned 31.  That’s right.  I’m now living IN the 30s.  My biggest epiphany with this new age is that I literally don’t care anymore.  That seems to be the underlying theme when something comes up.  “I don’t care”.  I’m tired of caring about things that I don’t need to care about anymore.  I think that makes me even more crotchety than I already am, but it’s just where I’m at mentally.  Looking back over the last, maybe, 19 years of my life, I’ve always cared too much — about what people think, about what people will say, about what other people want me to do, be, look like, feel like, think like.   I’ve spent too much and given too much value to people’s opinions about and for me.  It’s because I listened to all the noise, that I feel like I’m in this place now, where I’m 31 and just now finding my own.  So, I don’t care anymore.  You don’t like what I’m wearing?  I don’t care.  You think I’m too fat?  I don’t care.  You think I’m too bossy?  Too old?  Too rude?  Too mean?  Too snarky?  I….don’t….care.

So…..there’s that.

I truly wish I had done a better job of blogging as things happened.  There was the “girls night out” that I should have avoided with my coworkers, where I was the designated driver as my coworkers got piss drunk.  There was the family wedding (who, if you’re a faithful reader, I did not attend the engagement of this family member) that we attended that was not as awkward and painful as I thought it would be, although it did make me sad.   There’s the fact that I deleted ALL my coworkers on Facebook.  After that hot mess of a night with the other coworkers, I quickly realized that coworkers were not meant to be friends.  They were meant to be coworkers.  I didn’t want them to know about my personal life, or lack thereof, and I really didn’t care about theirs.   I like being an enigma, sort of speak.  The less they know, the better.

So now I am left with 110 friends — all family and close friends (or people who I want to know about).  My Facebook is officially the most boring account on the planet because I get updates from said friends and family or celebrities.  It’s quite nice.  I deleted EVERYONE under the sun.  I’m sure it’s offended tons of people, but I really don’t care.  None of them were my friends in real life and if they’re upset about being deleted then I’m sad for them.  Because, what do they get from being friends with me?  It’s not like they were emotionally invested in me and my well-being.  It’s a numbers thing.

Meanwhile, summer plans consist of nothing.  Although, I do have plans to travel to Denver for a weekend, which will be nice.  My sister will be gone for 5 weeks to DC for something work-related, which I’m jealous of, but we have both agreed that it’s needed for both of our sanities.  Otherwise we’ll kill each other by August.

6 months in to 2014 and I’m still wondering and waiting for something to happen.  I’ve been told multiple times that it won’t “fall into my lap”, which I understand.  But if someone can just tell me what step I need to take next to MAKE the next thing happen, I’ll take it.  I think God and I are still on the outs, so as soon as I figure out how to fix that, I’ll get back to ya.

I hope you’ll stick around for the next couple months.  I’ll try to keep you entertained with all my wise words of wisdom.

It’s summertime, what else is a girl supposed to do?

Say Hello To My Little Friend, the “F” Word.

0

As of late, I have taken up a bad habit of mine that I thought I had under control for a long time.  But it’s crept back into my life and now I feel powerless to stop it.  It’s like a part of me.  Second nature.  I do it without a care in the world.  I love it, but I hate it.  It’s freeing, yet a burden.  

What is it you may ask?  

Cussing.

I have been swearing like a drunken sailor and  I can’t stop myself.  My favorite word to drop is one of the worst ones of all — the “f” word and all variations of it.   The good Christian, the wannabe praise and worship leading girl in me hates this about myself.  Hate is an understatement. But for some reason, I can’t find a better word to adequately describe situations, people, circumstances, etc., without dropping the F bomb.  I’m not going to lie and pretend I’ve got it all together.   This whole idea that Christians don’t cuss or get angry makes me even more angrier.   I know swearing is a bad thing, and quite unnecessary if you’re a good Christian, at that.  

But man, when I’m venting, that F word sure does me a lot of good.

I hate to say that it probably brings me as much joy as chocolate and rom coms/hindi movies do when Aunt comes to visit every 4 weeks.  (And, by aunt, I am assuming you’re able to piece together who THAT is).

To be honest with you, 3 things have stayed loyal to me in my life — God.  My sister. And the F word.   None of those have let me down.   Forgive me if I choose to not turn my back on it either.  

Do I want to stop?  Of course I do!  I want to be a model citizen, woman, role model, and leader.   

But does it make a horrible, terrible person if I say it?  

I mean, it’s not like I bust it out in casual conversation.   It’s not like I’m at the dinner table with my parents and say, “OMG this is so f—king good!”.   I mean, c’mon.   I’m not THAT bad.  And if you know my mom, then you know that would NEVER happen.  She freaks out when I say hell.   She’d have a heart attack if she ever heard me say the F word.   I only invite the F word when I’m really mad or when I am venting about something that makes me really upset.    I would love to hear what all these other perfect Christians say when they’re mad.  I can guarantee that none of their words can hold a candle to F.

I’m torn on whether or not I should feel bad about the fact that I’ve taken up cussing again.  I’m sure when this blog becomes public and I’m famous and leading worship in places, people will bring this up and try to haunt me with it.  But, I’m going to own up to it.   

I cuss.  I get so mad and frustrated about things that sometimes I have to cuss.   Sometimes I say it a lot.   And at the end of the day, if my cussing is the WORST that I’ve done all day, considering all the other things I have been accused of doing/being/saying, then it’s the least of my concerns.