Boy has this one been a long time coming.

If anyone ever reads this, I may be out here. Alive, sometimes kicking. Thinking about writing. Thinking about our world and my place in it. Thinking about our connections and our similarities and the way we should love each other.

Wishing I was running, watching Teen Wolf with my teenager, crocheting like a mad old cat lady. Desperately trying to muster the strength and courage and motivation to write here again.

Aging.

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Piper Kerman, I like the sound of your voice…

Dear readers…
Please read this short article…
“Orange is the New Black” author: Prison wastes time, human potential and money
BEST OF NEWS | FRI, SEP 6
http://pulse.me/s/q2h7GImage
(Credit: AP) “Weeds” creator Jenji Kohan’s new Netflix series “Orange Is the New Black” became an instant hit this summer, due at least in part to th… Read more

Then read this;)

I wanted to remind (if I’ve already harped about this to you) or recommend (if this is the first time you’re hearing this from me) or beg/coerce/threaten (for those who fall into the category of righteously stubborn, piously indignant, mired down in a surface level understanding of existence) you all to buy AND READ this book.
I AM NOT REFERRING TO THE SHOW, WHILE I AM SURE IT’S VERY GOOD, IT IS AN ADAPTATION, NOT THE REAL STORY.
This book is representative of a conversation people in our [or at the very least, my] socioeconomic environments are not having, but should be. We are tragically uninformed and ‘blissfully’ blind to what is happening to those who find themselves dealing with the incomprehensible labyrinth that we laughingly refer to as ‘criminal justice’ in America.
This is the truth of what our inherent desire for retribution, and its pervasive impact upon legislation, means for our incarcerated Americans.
We live lives permeated with bitterness and a desire to see suffering in those who have wronged us and this attitude becomes culture and that culture becomes our justice system.
We puff ourselves up and bolster our indignant self-righteousness with balustrades hewn from our certainty that everyone is capable of behaving and making good choices because we did. Or, we are bitter little children crying ‘If I have to follow the rules… so do they’ which just seems sophomoric in an existence rife with inherent unfairness.
Everything happening in our nation is a result of our lack of education and lack of empathy and lack of foresight in favor of our drive to see bad behavior punished in whatever way seems like it will make us feel better at the time.
A perfect example is my run in with the idiot employees at Bar 3 BBQ in Belgrade the other day, and my gut wish to see them suffer for their poor treatment of me, and COME ON, it was just bad (OK, exceedingly careless and unnecessarily lazy) service at a restaurant, they didn’t kill my best friend.
BUT… writing this little blurb helped me realize that I’m as guilty of perpetuating this pathetic mind-set as anyone. I will absolutely give myself a bit of dispensation since I am actually mentally ill and it precludes me from appropriate behavior and response at times and yes, sorry, it’s unfair that I get special treatment because I have these issues but… life is inherently unfair REMEMBER? If you aren’t mentally ill, simply chalk my perspective up to my overdeveloped sense of balance… I may get special treatment (ok I may deserve, not always get, dispensation) and allowances might be made for my behavior because of my issues, but hey, YOU get to not be mentally ill – so – it seems like it shakes out pretty evenly to me.
 I do like to think I am more capable than some of reevaluating myself and my thought processes in pursuit of enlightenment and my desperate desire to better my corrupt and irreverent and excruciating and irrelevant existence.  If you strive for these things in yourself, keep in mind…
that confinement doesn’t rehabilitate. Are we really so bloodthirsty a society that our desire to see people ‘pay’ for their behavior blinds us to even a shred of what our humanity (and often our ‘religions’) would demand of us with regard to our fellow man?
Instead let’s try introspection and education, conversations with sincerity, and a broadening of our small minds…
Maybe little reminders like this lovely memoir will spark something in us… maybe these things will help us work toward removing our blinders and coming together in kindness and humanity so that we can attempt to treat our fellow man with dignity… rather than contempt born of our own pain, insecurities, and bitterness.
This will be my last post until I return from what I hope will not be a crushing and defeating experience from which I cannot recover, but instead will be an enlightening, illuminating, and motivating decent into the bowels of our society which will prove a treasure trove of heartening observations, deep learning opportunities, and a few outrageously campy tales – Federal Corrections here I come!
Thanks for reading and I hope some of you are still here when I get back… my stories will undoubtedly be hilarious if not spectacular;)
Yours,
Crazy Liah aka despoticloset.
Sent from my iPhone.
“No matter where I get, I fail to appreciate my arrival” – thejackieblog

Musings for my minions…

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‘high-maintenance’ girl shit…

Was just perusing a decent little article about the splendidness of our misogynistic culture and realized with a perfunctory slap to the forehead that I might be missing something important in my interactions with men… are they really looking at my nails? I mean, they’re generally tidy… clean and filed, but never polished or quite ‘done’… does this make me less sexy?

I don’t hate a nice manicure, I have nothing against gel nails or shellac or any of that super-fun chick crap. I just think it’s expensive and time consuming and I really hate making awkward small-talk with ‘salon-person’.

Plus, am I delusional or wouldn’t men everywhere prefer I utilize every extra second of my existence cultivating my blow-job skills?

Project 50K

Update:

21 Miles as of Thursday.

Everything hurts. Knee is pretty uncomfortable… tried to sabotage today’s run but I prevailed!

My bingo wings chafed my side boob for an amazingly painful and humiliating side-effect during today’s run.   A newfound respect for and awareness of spontaneous combustion has developed.  I am considering relocating one of the fire extinguishers so that it is within reach of my treadmill.

Project of the Week: 50K

ATTENTION:

Fatgirl, who exercises somewhat regularly, is attempting to run approx. 30 miles this week.  

DYK? Fatgirls don’t make good runners? No kidding, it’s true!  Now don’t go getting all offended by the Fatgirl term.  I could say curvy, voluptuous, bootylicious, the dreaded ‘plus size’ BLECH!, or a number of other things about my figure, Fatgirl is simply the most motivating for the current project. Back to the running… I used to run a bit when I was young and thin (in my early 20’s) and never really put much effort in and never really got very good at it though I was in great shape.  I was simply not built for it.  I started again when I hit 30 and got much better at it with much less to work with strength and youth-wise and much more to work with flab and booze-wise. I ran for a few years off and on, doing a few 5K races (as I said I was never very good at running) and pretty happy with myself for doing it.  Then I had another baby and zzzzzzzzz…… well you know how that goes.

Now on the downward slope toward middle-life crisis (or smack in the middle of it) I am out of shape, and REALLY not built for it.

FYI: Running is HARD.  

I see those little cuties running around the world, doing marathons and smiling and looking cool and I want to smack them.  Sure, I might smile and wave and wink and blog while running too if I weighed 118 lbs.  My joints wouldn’t ache, my flab wouldn’t jiggle me off the side of my treadmill, my boobs wouldn’t require two + sportsbras in a size too small to keep them contained, my yoga outfit turned runners gear wouldn’t be soaked with sweaty fatgirl sauce, and my hair and make-up would remain perfectly in place so that the finish-line photos didn’t look like some longer haired slightly feminized version of Nick Nolte’s mug-shot (to be fair, my outfits are much cooler).

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Sure. If I weighed some 60 lbs less. But I don’t. I rock a fluctuating 180 – 188 (it’s not uncommon for my weight to change 5 lbs in a day) and most of the time I think I look pretty great, but there are those days. When I say pretty great, I don’t mean great in the same category as pre-kid, pre-stress, pre-heartbreak, pre-chaos great. Not like those years in my 20’s kinda hot, (boy, if only I could convince that girl to keep running) but still hot enough for me. I may never get to a point where I am a good runner, but that isn’t going to stop me from hurtling my tired, heavy, old, sweaty, achy, flabby body through space at whatever break-neck speed I can pull off. Wish me luck!

As of yesterday she is at 13.69 miles. 

Current Status:

Sleep – 4-6 hours

Left ankle – swollen and sore

Right knee – pinches when bent and straight and walking and running

Lower back – Tight 

Mid back – Tight

Upper back – Tight

Shoulders – Tight

Neck – Tight

Hips – Sore 

Stomach – Still flabby

Boobs – Still too big

Morale – Stable

 

 

Champagne Thought Bubbles…

Love is the ability and willingness to allow those that you care for to be what they choose for themselves without any insistence that they satisfy you. – Wayne Dyer

This is a stunning concept which I wholeheartedly believe would change the face of all our relationships were we to embrace it and commit to it. Sadly, our uncontrollable desire to see our own needs satisfied and our inability to conceptualize in everyday life thwarts us.  Perhaps a bit more effort… or just a bit more Cabernet?