It crunches under my feet like the hardened snow. It makes crispy, annoying sounds that interrupt the silence of everything else that is not going on.....I have been kicking it around for so long that sometimes I could swear I have literal bruises on my toes...I am a warrior and conqueror of only that which can not be seen...on the outside I am just ordinary. On the inside I am a phoenix rising from the ashes.
So let me wrap my toes in ice and bandages. Let me put away my sword an shield. Let me spread my wings of fire and rise..........
Let me close my battle scars with kind words and bits of string. Let me rip the stitches from my mouth. Let me scream about the injustice of it all. Let me breathe and spread my wings of fire and rise....
Let me wash the soot from my armor. Let me tattoo my sins on my breast with permanent marker and fountain pen ink . Let me grieve the pain of lost battles and victories and of all that lies in between. Let me cry and spread my wings of fire and rise....
Because I am the conqueror of my fears....I am the imaginary warrior....I am the phoenix rising from the ash.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Unique and Uniquely Broken....
Do you ever feel like you were born in the wrong time? I love old things. Vintage table cloths, old architecture, old tea pots. I prefer vinyl records over cds. I prefer old blues, old jazz, old swing music. I like the new stuff too, but I always go back to Billie Holiday, Perry Como, and good ole' Frank. When I was kid, I listened to the oldies channel over the pop music my friends listened too. It is how I got a love for Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper, and Aretha Franklin. In my teens, I was rocking out to The Glenn Miller Band and big band swing music. I love vintage clothes and vintage furniture. Antiques make me extremely happy. Nothing bums me out more than going into an old house that someone has stripped all of the original character out of and made it "modern"....shudder. I mean, some things have to be modernized but leave the molding alone!
Right now, I am obsessed with old feed sacks. They are just so freaking neat. I also have an issue with old signs. I have a whole wall of them in my living room. My husband thinks I have enough, but just like books, I am not sure you can ever have too many. Of course, that could be my slight hoarding tendency trying to come out. I have to be careful or I could totally end up with a basement full of cheap vintage signs and old flour sacks....
I also love old typewriters, old radios, old cameras...ect. I just tend to feel like I was born in the wrong time. Or maybe, I am just weird. At this point, I can't tell the difference anymore. All I know is, I always prefer something old over something new. Like my great grandmother's chipped fruit bowl...I love that damn thing and it isn't worth anything. Except that it was hers and it was special to her because she grew up in the Great Depression and she got it around the time my grandmother was born. It is my most prized piece of china. It is my only piece of china but even if I got the most expensive china in the world, I would still only love this one chipped bowl. I love the vintage tea pots my grandmother gave me. They have lost all of their silver plating. One was from an old hotel in Texas that was given to her by one of her grandmother in law's husbands. Or the other tea pot that was made in the 1800's but has a huge dent in it, is no longer shiny and the lid hinge is completely broken so the lid falls off if you even breath while looking at it. They are worthless monetarily and yet they mean so much to me.
I love old, antique and vintage things so much that even my wedding ring is over a hundred years old. I picked it out myself thirteen years ago because it was unique, hand tooled, lovingly crafted for someone, and old.
Maybe, I like old things because they are no longer run of the mill, cookie cutter objects. They have a history. I don't want new hardwood floors, I want hardwood that has been worn down for decades by the feet of living, breathing, loving, happily families. I don't want new furniture in my dining room. I want the table that has little scratches where the silver wear was placed for a century. I don't want the things that have no story. I want to add my stories to the things that already have one. I am fascinated by everyday objects that have little mars and scratches and marks from owners past that are a testament of their life experiences. A sign that they were here. I love the history of it all.
Obviously, some things have to be bought new but whenever possible I always go for the old. The down trodden. The underdog. The flawed and less desired because it is not perfect. I go for the tarnished tea pot, the well worn flour sack, the broken typewriter, the rusty sign and I utilize them to been seen in my home. They are my little artifacts of history. Worth nothing to most but so much to me because at one time they meant everything to someone else.... Maybe I like them because I see myself in each dented and cracked object...flawed, sometimes overlooked, bizarre, unique, broken, rusted, and well worn. Maybe these things bring me comfort because I feel we share a sameness. Our value is hidden but still exists just waiting for the right person to recognize it, not only in my little artifacts but in themselves as well. Maybe I like them because they are like tiny mirrors of what I see in myself. Maybe a bit dinged up but still beautiful, still interesting, still worthy of being seen and loved. I like them because they remind me that we are all unique and yet uniquely broken....and we all should be treasured.
Neurotic Nelly
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
This Means War.....
I have never had a problem with birds per say.....I even had a pair of "love birds" a few years back. Except they more tolerated each other rather than loved each other. They were decent pets although, you didn't really do much with them and they had this talent for being able to poop outside of the cage even when their butts were inside the cage....as an OCD sufferer this was so not cool. I gave them to my grandma after a few years because she loves birds and birds for me, seem like they should be free. That way if they hate each other they don't have to actually be forced to lived together forever and no one should have to poop in a cage.
None of this has anything to do with my current problem except to prove that I am not a bird hater.
For the last year or so my front porch has been covered in bird poop at any given time. Mostly in a straight line all the way across my red brick porch half wall. It never fails, that at some point, I will be out there with a wet broom and hot soapy water scrubbing away like a ship's deckhand, trying to remove it all. It is unsanitary but even more than that, it is just fucking gross. And it seems to be happening more and more often and at a higher poop percentage.
And they have gotten even more devious and sneaky about it. You never see them actually do it, but let's be real....someone is using my front porch as a public toilet. Before you start thinking I am paranoid, riddle me this.....a couple of days ago, I went outside to get into my car. On the passenger side because I don't drive. And what do I find? Apparently, the birds decided to dive bomb my car but only on my side and only on my window. So while everyone else was bird poop free, my window had giant splotches of bird crap all over it. My kids thought this was just hilarious.
I blamed the red breasted robins innocently (or so it appeared) in my neighbors yard. I mean, what else am I going to think?
And then yesterday we had gone out to the Home Depot to get some paint and when we pulled up to our house I saw them. No, not the red breasted robins, I had falsely accused of barraging me with poop, (sorry robins) but black birds. Little evil black birds lined up on my porch wall, twelve to thirteen of them. And there were more on my actual porch floor. I had finally caught them red handed.....
And here is where I developed the crazy old man-get off my lawn mentality. I swung open my car door cursing at the little evil porch poopers and they flew away. My oldest ran up to the porch flapping his arms in the wind to try and help disperse them and I asked him the loaded question....how bad is my porch? Well, I will tell you just how bad my porch is.....it's covered. There are literally hundreds of blobs of bird poop over every square inch of this damn thing. And there is the tell-tale straight line of doody on my half wall.....bastards. It appears that some horrendous poop massacre had occurred while we were mindlessly traipsing around the Home Depot and we came home in the middle of it.
And to make matters worse, I even have an outside cat, so one would think that would be a bird deterrent. But no, they aren't the least bit bothered by something as paltry as their natural enemy lazing around on my porch.
This is causing me to obsess and my contamination fears are through the freaking roof. I mean, it's poop. Ewwwww.
So, last night as I laid there trying to sleep, I was plagued with thoughts as to how I am going to solve the bird poop debacle of 2015. If live cats aren't a deterrent, I doubt plastic owls would be anything but poop fodder. A scarecrow would be odd and kind of creepy sitting on my porch all year round. My friend suggested a fake snake but I am not certain they would be intimidated by that. She also suggested mirrored balls because birds don't like shiny mosaics. I am currently entertaining the idea of hanging hundreds of aluminum pie pans all over my house, like a big shiny disco ball circa 1975. I don't know what I am going to do but the one thing I am certain of is this can't go on....these feathered jerk faces can not be allowed to crap all over only my porch...and it is only my porch. I have checked. (not sure what that says about me.) It is the line in the sand this means war.....
So if you drive by a red brick house covered from roof to foundation in pie pans, it's probably mine, unless I can come up with a humane but yet kick ass deterrent to save what little is left of my sanity. Although, at this point that may be a moot issue....
Nature's for the birds, and apparently so is my porch.....have a great week guys.
Neurotic Nelly.
None of this has anything to do with my current problem except to prove that I am not a bird hater.
For the last year or so my front porch has been covered in bird poop at any given time. Mostly in a straight line all the way across my red brick porch half wall. It never fails, that at some point, I will be out there with a wet broom and hot soapy water scrubbing away like a ship's deckhand, trying to remove it all. It is unsanitary but even more than that, it is just fucking gross. And it seems to be happening more and more often and at a higher poop percentage.
And they have gotten even more devious and sneaky about it. You never see them actually do it, but let's be real....someone is using my front porch as a public toilet. Before you start thinking I am paranoid, riddle me this.....a couple of days ago, I went outside to get into my car. On the passenger side because I don't drive. And what do I find? Apparently, the birds decided to dive bomb my car but only on my side and only on my window. So while everyone else was bird poop free, my window had giant splotches of bird crap all over it. My kids thought this was just hilarious.
I blamed the red breasted robins innocently (or so it appeared) in my neighbors yard. I mean, what else am I going to think?
And then yesterday we had gone out to the Home Depot to get some paint and when we pulled up to our house I saw them. No, not the red breasted robins, I had falsely accused of barraging me with poop, (sorry robins) but black birds. Little evil black birds lined up on my porch wall, twelve to thirteen of them. And there were more on my actual porch floor. I had finally caught them red handed.....
And here is where I developed the crazy old man-get off my lawn mentality. I swung open my car door cursing at the little evil porch poopers and they flew away. My oldest ran up to the porch flapping his arms in the wind to try and help disperse them and I asked him the loaded question....how bad is my porch? Well, I will tell you just how bad my porch is.....it's covered. There are literally hundreds of blobs of bird poop over every square inch of this damn thing. And there is the tell-tale straight line of doody on my half wall.....bastards. It appears that some horrendous poop massacre had occurred while we were mindlessly traipsing around the Home Depot and we came home in the middle of it.
And to make matters worse, I even have an outside cat, so one would think that would be a bird deterrent. But no, they aren't the least bit bothered by something as paltry as their natural enemy lazing around on my porch.
This is causing me to obsess and my contamination fears are through the freaking roof. I mean, it's poop. Ewwwww.
So, last night as I laid there trying to sleep, I was plagued with thoughts as to how I am going to solve the bird poop debacle of 2015. If live cats aren't a deterrent, I doubt plastic owls would be anything but poop fodder. A scarecrow would be odd and kind of creepy sitting on my porch all year round. My friend suggested a fake snake but I am not certain they would be intimidated by that. She also suggested mirrored balls because birds don't like shiny mosaics. I am currently entertaining the idea of hanging hundreds of aluminum pie pans all over my house, like a big shiny disco ball circa 1975. I don't know what I am going to do but the one thing I am certain of is this can't go on....these feathered jerk faces can not be allowed to crap all over only my porch...and it is only my porch. I have checked. (not sure what that says about me.) It is the line in the sand this means war.....
So if you drive by a red brick house covered from roof to foundation in pie pans, it's probably mine, unless I can come up with a humane but yet kick ass deterrent to save what little is left of my sanity. Although, at this point that may be a moot issue....
Nature's for the birds, and apparently so is my porch.....have a great week guys.
Neurotic Nelly.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Blinded.....
My mom always says,"There are none so blind as those who will not see." And I sometimes think that is where we are. This divisional line in the sand crudely drawn with broken bits of lumber and long crooked pieces of driftwood. I sometimes feel like I can explain it until I am blue in the face and yet there are not enough words to fully paint such a horrific picture. I could go on and on and on and yet you would not get it. Not totally. And sometimes I wonder if that is because you are unable to understand because you do not suffer from it, or if it is simply because you can not see it. Or maybe it isn't that you can not see it but rather that you will not see it. Because seeing it means having to acknowledge the depth of agony, fear, and frustration that rules my life. And honestly, who wants to see that in the one they love?
I sit there in a quiet room and I hear you not meaning to trivialize, but doing it all the same and I want to scream....I want to yell......that yes, OCD can cause all of this pain. Yes, OCD can screw everything up and no, it doesn't necessarily matter what else is going on at the time. It is not that the triggers cause the anxiety as much as the OCD causes the triggers to be there in the first place. Without the mental illness there would be no triggers, just everyday things in life that no one notices except people like me. So, it is in fact, just the OCD being the culprit and to pretend it is not such a big deal or that somehow I am blowing this all out of proportion is frustrating...not to mention, dangerous. Because OCD is a killer just as much as any other mental illness is and people need to remember that.
And I want you to understand my mental illness because if you did then you could understand me better. Because it is what makes me act the way I do, and it is what shapes my decisions right or wrong as they may be, and it is part of who I am. And since my youngest also has it, it would help you to understand him. It would help you to know what he will go through like I know what he will go through, because I have been in that hell for so long, I chose the wallpaper.
I really wish you could see. I wish I could explain it in a manner that didn't frighten you and that made more sense. I wish that you could see it as it is. It just is and like everything else, it is just something you have to learn to live with. I wish that it came with diagrams and maps and charts and picture books. I wish that it came with movies that depicted all of like it actually is and not the silly parts of it. I wish it came with warning labels and soft fuzzy blankets and posters to hang on the wall....I wish it came on coffee cups and in shadow boxes so that everyone could be familiar with it and understand it. So that everyone would know that it is a struggle and that struggle is real. That it is not an excuse for not doing something. It is not a fad or passing phase. It can get better but it never goes away completely. It is manageable but it is not "curable". And he and I will be just fine although we will have bad days. We will also have good days. And there is always hope that things will get and remain better. Nothing in this world is hopeless as long as you make sure to always keep a positive attitude.
I don't know how else to put it. Maybe I fail at describing it in a way that makes it understandable. Maybe I fail at showing you how it works but then again I can not always understand the things you have gone through. Even though, I try really hard to. So there is that. Maybe I too sometimes can not see the struggles you go through for the very same reasons you can not see mine. Maybe that is what life is.....trying to see others and their lives with complete honesty and compassion and having love for them just the same....
Neurotic Nelly
I sit there in a quiet room and I hear you not meaning to trivialize, but doing it all the same and I want to scream....I want to yell......that yes, OCD can cause all of this pain. Yes, OCD can screw everything up and no, it doesn't necessarily matter what else is going on at the time. It is not that the triggers cause the anxiety as much as the OCD causes the triggers to be there in the first place. Without the mental illness there would be no triggers, just everyday things in life that no one notices except people like me. So, it is in fact, just the OCD being the culprit and to pretend it is not such a big deal or that somehow I am blowing this all out of proportion is frustrating...not to mention, dangerous. Because OCD is a killer just as much as any other mental illness is and people need to remember that.
And I want you to understand my mental illness because if you did then you could understand me better. Because it is what makes me act the way I do, and it is what shapes my decisions right or wrong as they may be, and it is part of who I am. And since my youngest also has it, it would help you to understand him. It would help you to know what he will go through like I know what he will go through, because I have been in that hell for so long, I chose the wallpaper.
I really wish you could see. I wish I could explain it in a manner that didn't frighten you and that made more sense. I wish that you could see it as it is. It just is and like everything else, it is just something you have to learn to live with. I wish that it came with diagrams and maps and charts and picture books. I wish that it came with movies that depicted all of like it actually is and not the silly parts of it. I wish it came with warning labels and soft fuzzy blankets and posters to hang on the wall....I wish it came on coffee cups and in shadow boxes so that everyone could be familiar with it and understand it. So that everyone would know that it is a struggle and that struggle is real. That it is not an excuse for not doing something. It is not a fad or passing phase. It can get better but it never goes away completely. It is manageable but it is not "curable". And he and I will be just fine although we will have bad days. We will also have good days. And there is always hope that things will get and remain better. Nothing in this world is hopeless as long as you make sure to always keep a positive attitude.
I don't know how else to put it. Maybe I fail at describing it in a way that makes it understandable. Maybe I fail at showing you how it works but then again I can not always understand the things you have gone through. Even though, I try really hard to. So there is that. Maybe I too sometimes can not see the struggles you go through for the very same reasons you can not see mine. Maybe that is what life is.....trying to see others and their lives with complete honesty and compassion and having love for them just the same....
Neurotic Nelly
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)