I choose Happy

Finally, I'm starting to feel more like me. I'm ready to be social again. I want to be active and play.

How can I properly explain the spirit lifting? The weight of grief and uncertainty are loosening their hold and my naturally bubbly personality is on the rise. What's left is nagging doubt that can't compete with my natural inclination to be happy.

I'm determined to be happy. Happy is the choice I'm making. Even when I was depressed and confused and griefstricken, I chose to think positive. Otherwise it would've been a whole lot worse.

I'm choosing to let go of my grief. I'm choosing to be part of the world again. I'm choosing to go forth and sing. And I'm happy about my choices.

I've never understood why happy is abhorrent to some people. Ick. Ugh. Too fricking happy. Happy doesn't equate to dumb. It always annoys me when I'm being happy and goofy that people assume I'm dumb. My intelligence is something I've always had confidence in. I'm a smart cookie. Optimism is GOOD! Negativitity is the enemy. The worse you think it is, the worse it will be. Optimistic doesn't mean I don't see the world for what it is. I just think it's getting better.

Don't worry. Be Happy. Word to Bobby McFerrin.

Proud of my Gays

I have a lot of gay, bisexual, and transgender people in my life. Mostly, because I take them as they are. I even extremely briefly dated a guy who later got the chop. Who cares?

Why do we care what happens in the bedroom? You love who you love.  Love is not a bad thing. Kind of the opposite in fact. I wish there was more of it.

The main opponents of gayness tend to be religious. There are an extraordinary amount of rules and regs lined out in the bible. But where it mentions homosexuality is in the Old Testament. When Jesus came he made a new covenant with the church. The only commandment we have to follow is his. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Gaybashing isn't loving. He also told us not to judge. He who is without sin should cast the first stone.

Jesus hung out with the worst of the worst and he never judged them. He took them as they were and tried to show them through example and story how to live.

If Jesus is your excuse for hate, then you missed the whole point.

I love my gays. The have courage to be themselves and risk judgement. They stand up for what they believe in. And they love musicals like me :)

Horror

I know. I know. I've been slacking on the blogging. Drama and fun have kept me from it. So let me write about something simple and fun.

Horror movies. Love them or hate them. They're here to stay. As you may guess, my favorites are the ones based on a true story. Since I've had my own paranormal experiences, I tend to be blah on the ones that aren't. I tend to like older ones since they're more about the story than the visual effects.

Quick cuts and swipes bug out my eyes and I don't enjoy them. Special effects are amazing nowadays but I want to get a good look at them not just a random screaming creepy face that disappears in a second.

My favorites are definitely horror comedies. I adore Shaun of the Dead.(I'm reading Simon Pegg's autobiography now.Worth a read.) I can't get enough Bruce Campbell in whatever goofy horror movie he's playing in. The blood and gore don't faze me in the slightest. Maybe the reason I like the horror comedies so much is because it reminds us there is always something funny, even when getting chased by zombies.

I am easily startled but not easily scared.  I'll jump but not scream. Nightmare on Elm Street, I watched as a kid while living on Elm St. The movie has fun but not scary to me. The only part that creeped me out was the kids singing while jumping rope at the end. (1,2 Freddie's coming for you, 3,4 better lock your door...)

Psychological thrillers I tend to steer clear of. I cannot make myself sit through Silence of The Lambs. I'm not sure what it is but on 3 separate occasions, I've gotten fifteen minutes in and got up and walked out of the room.

I don't enjoy being scared and I'm not sure why others do. For instance, I was in Salem, MA during Halloween with my friend Jenn McClendon. We went to a few different haunted houses, the kind where people jump out at you. I laughed my way through them while Jenn left fingernail marks all up and down my arms. And going to them was her idea.

I prefer the originals to the remakes most of the time. Amityville is a good one to compare new and old. The old one has more story and better slow buildup. The new one is full of quick cuts and half seen monsters that were nowhere to be found in the original.

What's your favorite horror flick?

My Boss Lady

The owners of my company are a married couple. Good people with a big vision for the company. The boss lady is from Colombia. She's energetic and goofy at times. It's weird working at a job where the boss says "I love you my Kris!" every time she leaves for the day.

Kris? I hear you ask. I know. Only direct family calls me Kris. But it sounds so cute with her accent. The way she says it sounds like Crease. I can't get mad about it.

So today she asks "My Kris, do you have guns?"
"Guns?" I asked
"Yeah. Guns for chewing?"
Pause. The light dawns.
"Yep. I've got some gum in my purse. I'll grab you a piece."

This is an everyday occurence. Makes me smile every time.

Sllleeeeeeeeeeep

I don't know if it's because work has been busy or because of the diet or because of stress. Or possibly all three. But I am tired. I never get to bed on time anymore. I never sleep well while I'm in bed.

I am tired. Exhausted. I may go to bed at 8 pm tonight just to try to catch up on some zzzzzzzzzzzs.

Might have to start up with the melatonin to help me drift off.

I'm starting with cold symptoms cause I'm so worn out. Need to get this kicked and with a quickness.

Written on my 25th Birthday

Once upon a time...
Now that's a classic start. Who can come up with something new when all the perfect phrases have already been used? 25 years old makes something an antique. I'm an antique.  So a quarter century after I'm dead something I do may be a classic. Motivation is what I need. Forget Boy meets girl. Maybe I'll try Boy meets emu. One day I'll be a triumph at something. Just trying to figure out the when and where.

My Temper and why I don't lose it

I've only lost my temper twice. That was twice too many times. I've been angry sure. I've yelled a bit. I argue a bit. But not to an extreme.

The first time I was in junior high. My brother and his buddy decided it would be fun to go into my room and tear down all the posters from my walls. I walked in to my room and saw the posters ripped to shreds on the floor. The boys took off before I could see them. I took a walk around the block just trying to calm myself down. It didn't work.

I came back in the house through the garage and saw the boys in the basement. I grabbed the nearest thing to me, my yellow plastic hockey stick and started hitting. I don't even think I even said anything before I started swinging. My brother was behind his buddy. His buddy was three years older than me and on the wrestling and football team at high school. Also taller than me by at least half a foot. I remember him laughing at me trying to hit him in the head and at that point, the rage took completely over. When I came back to my senses, his hands were bleeding down his arms from protecting his face. I was so shaken at my own violence, I threw down the hockey stick and walked away. I couldn't trust myself not to pick it back up.

The boys got in trouble as did I.  I believe the boys got it a little worse than I did but I don't remember for sure.

I hated that I did it. I hated that I totally lost control. In that moment the only thing I could think about was hurting them. I just wanted blood. That's not me.

It was years later when I was 18 that I lost my temper again. I had my new car that I was paying for and was mine alone. My little Geo Metro stick shift. I miss that car. My brother was home from college for the summer and since he had totaled the Tempo he took down with him, he depended on rides from me and the parents. I was a little annoyed that I had to go out of my way almost every day to take him to work and back but he threw me gas money. And it made it less of a burden on the folks.

He was working with my friend Jen at the coffee shop and asked me to borrow the car to get to work. He wasn't great at driving a stick and I always warned him not to park in this one section of the lot since he could roll into the guardrail if he wasn't careful.  This was my car and I didn't want my insurance to go up.

He asked to borrow the car for the next day and I said no. I would take him in, I had things to do that day. When I woke up, he was gone and so was my car. I immediately called him at work and lost my mind on him. Did he know I could have his ass in jail for stealing my car? Why didn't he wake me up? I told him I needed MY car not his car not the family's car to run errands. How dare he just take my car. I told him he better leave work and come bring it back to me. He said he couldn't leave work it was busy and no one could cover. I told him it would be a cold day in hell before I let him in my car again.

I called my friend and had her drive me over to his work. I had calmed down a good bit by then and my friend Jen was working. He handed over the keys and apologized saying he couldn't wake me up and didn't want to be late for work. I just gave him a death look and talked to Jen. Jen and I started goofing around in the back room and spritzed each other with the sink hose. Then since I was laughing and joking, Bob thought it would be cool to join in the fun and he tried to squirt me. I lost my temper. Grabbed the first thing handy which was a broom and started hitting him while screaming loud enough that the whole block could hear me. I called him every name I could think of and repeated that he was lucky I didn't throw his butt in jail for car theft. I told him where to go and how to get there.

Jen was standing in the doorway just openmouthed and staring. I told Bob good luck on finding a ride home and walked out. I went to my car. He had rolled it forward into the guardrail and torn off the front license plate. I stopped myself from going back down and kicking his butt some more.

I calmly informed my parents that he wasn't getting in my car ever again. He could find his own way around and showed them the damage. My mom and dad tried to reason with me saying it was so much easier for me to drive him to work than it was for them. I told them I didn't care. He had no respect for my property and I was his sister not a chauffeur. He lost his privilege to use my car ever again. It wasn't my problem how he got to work. I got there in my car that I paid for. He didn't set foot in my car for the rest of the summer.

I haven't truly lost my temper since. I'm scared to. That doesn't mean I don't get angry but I don't get physical about it. I walk away rather than throwing down. Because next time I may not be able to stop.