Sorry, not sorry

I've seen the phrase "sorry, not sorry" quite a bit in these blogging parts of town.  At first, it annoyed the hell out of me.  Think about it.  How are you sorry for not being sorry?  Doesn't that just mean that you're apologizing for the act that you claim your aren't sorry for just to admit that you are sorry nonetheless?  I really thought it was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard (for that week, cause lets be honest, the amount of ridiculousness that is encountered on a weekly basis is overwhelming).

Continuing on, I didn't get it...until one day it dawned on me.  I am sorry, but not sorry at least 75% of The events, thoughts, actions and words that I speak on a daily basis.  I am unapologetic for the things that most people should probably apologize for.  And the best part (worst part?) is that I am so disconnected and desensitized that I (at this moment) don't find anything wrong with that.  Lets reflect shall we?

I'm sorry, not sorry...

That I am obsessed with my hair.  Truth

That I choose to take time away from people when I have reached my "emotional overload" rating.  I am always available to my friends when they need me, but on the very rare occasion that I have my own emotional crisis going on, I've learned to take time way so that I can better myself and thus be better for them.  I do not apologize for taking a mental health break, even if it means that something gets damaged in the process.

I love the color orange to the point that my purse, work bag, cell phone case, wallet, work laptop case, portable mouse, notebook, pen, pen pouch, stylus, and headphones are all various shades of orange. It's ridiculous.  But I don't care.

That your chewing will drive me crazy and I have to fight the urge to refrain from choking you.  Misophonia.  It's real.  I have it.  Look it up.

That I exaggerate and can blow things out of proportion.  True story: I got a bug bite on my leg and I panicked for a week straight (clue#1) because I thought I got bit by a brown recluse spider.  Did I go to the doctor or set up an appointment?  Nope.  Did I look up everything on google that clearly indicated that I did not have a gaping, flesh eating bite on my leg (clue #2)?  Yep. Did I still believe that it was a recluse?  You betcha. Not enough of an example?  How about the fact that I got a knot in my neck (probably from sleeping wrong) and I swore up and down that I broke my collar bone.  The thing is that I believed it, even though I knew that I'd done nothing to cause such an injury.  I guess that's the thing...I'm sorry, not sorry that I believe stuff like this even when I know them to be impossible.  

I can admit that I have a small network of friends.  Real friends.  I may be hurt if one of these friendships ends, but I'm sorry, not sorry that I will get over it.   It is a hard part of growing up.  

That I really wish that I had a wand, tiara and cloud of glitter rain to use at my disposal.

That every 28 days or so I will complain about the unfairness and brutal pain that I experience for not being pregnant.  Thats a week of whining, crying, yelling, cramping, eating, munching, sweats wearing that I am not sorry for. (Understand that I am referring to the actions resulting from that week and not the problem itself).

I'm sorry, not sorry to admit that when I meet someone for the first time, I intentionally look at their eyebrows and base my interest in the conversation on said eyebrows.  Shallow?  Not really.  I don't judge that person for their eyebrow grooming skills, or lack there of, it's just that I have a very short attention span and its hard for me to *Squirrel* focus when their eyebrows are erased and drawn on, perfectly arched, or a hotmess.  Once I'm over the shock (good or bad), I can focus on any subsequent conversation.  Flash me your eyebrows before you try to carry a real conversation with me and all will be good.

For wanting a hippo named Franchesca, a pig named Winston, a manatee whale named Marilyn and a a Lynx named Slick Rick.  

I am pretty sure this page will continue on.  So tell me, what are you sorry not sorry for?

February: Selfish, Not Selfish

You are probably wondering what happened to my daily count down.  Well, it wasn't tickling my creative fancy, so I dropped it.  I liked looking back and seeing what occurred over the month of January, but the method of delivery was a bit too white rice and chicken broth for me.

So instead, lets just sum up the month of February with a little Valentines day story:

I call this story: Selfish, Not Selfish.

I like to refer to February as the Hallmark month of love!   Now before anyone jumps down my throat for calling it that, lets get one thing straight...Hallmark isn't the only company making a killing...chocolates, flower shops, leather and lace...red and pink over kill...all of it.  It's big stuff this month.  

Do I find it a little sad and silly?  You betcha.  Am I one of those people that say "you don't need a month to show your love" and "you especially don't need to do it when EVERYONE else is being told to do the same thing."  Oh for sure.  I am one of those people.  Not because I am bitter or "so above it," but rather because I think it is true.  *hold your breath while I become a hypocrite*. I think of Valentines Day as a day that people 1) go out of their way to buy something that is expected ei: flowers, candies, something pink, red and covered in hearts 2) people without a significant other are forced to witness the madness 3) its a red, white and pink version of the "my genitals are bigger than your genitals" equivalent.  Total lame sauce. 

I love chocolates, flowers, cards, letters and all that jazz..but maybe my Taurusism is too strong because I prefer to receive stuff like that when no one else is receiving it.  I want the attention on me...i am not ashamed of being an Attention Whore.  It is who I am.  

*This is when you can stop holding your breath* Now, with all that being said...I ordered chocolate covered strawberries and roses for my husband and had them delivered to his job on two separate days.  Yep.  I sure did.  Why you might ask?  Simple...I wanted to embarrass him with love...and i wanted some Shari's Berries.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Here's the thing, my husband is not one to attract attention.  In fact, he prefers to sit back and blend in with the wall.  He is pretty reserved (for the most part) and gets embarrassed rather easily.  So, what better way than to have chocolates delivered on Thursday and Roses delivered on Friday...to the front desk...at his job...a major Home Improvement Store...that he manages...with over a hundred employees...that he has to pass...in order to put the stuff away...in his office...in the very back of the store.  Totally premeditated and thought out.  I even had some of his employees help me plan.  *you should take note...don't get on my bad side*

Needless to say, my Thursday consisted of UPS refreshing...until I got the "Delivered" notification!  Oh wait...mind you, I was also texting little hints throughout the week...like "I love you Berry much" and "roses are red..."  And "sign, sealed, delivered..."  He never caught on.  Was it cheesy and totally unnecessary?   Absolutely.  Anywho, once I saw that they were delivered...I could not contain my excitement.  *Psycho path tendencies* Then my phone rang and this is the first thing that I heard "seriously!?!  So freakin embarrassing, De'Aura.  Wow.  At my job, too?"  Let me tell you that I laughed for a minute straight.  Little did he know, that was part one of his two part gift.  And just for kicks and giggles (and because I actually did want a chocolate coved strawberry) I wrote a little message on the card "Enjoy! (FYI, only five of the are yours). With love"

That evening, he thanked me and said "I'm just glad you didn't send me flowers."  *insert the most evil laugh you can imagine*. It took everything in me to not break my cover.

Now it's Friday, and I am back at the UPS refresh...refresh....refresh....repeat 5 billion times...and I get a "Delivered" message.  *insert uncontrollable laughter* followed by *ring ring Mr.PSL: This is ridiculous.  Now I have to walk through the building, again, but with a giant box that says ProFlowers on it?!  You are too much."  Week.  Made.

I didn't get to snap a photo of the flowers, and I am kicking myself for being lazy about it.  They were beautiful....lime, coral, lavender, and yellow colored roses.  

So in the end, my " Valentines day is for the unoriginal and easily influenced " tangent was really a two fold event.  One, I got a great laugh from embarrassing my husband with Chocolates and flowers and two, I ate some delicious chocolate covered strawberries and woke up to beautiful springs flowers for a week straight.  Selfish, not selfish...

No radio? No problem.

Let me start off by putting out some good o'l positive energy...my car runs, it is safe (I think), and it gets me where I need to be.  My car is good to me and I will be good to my car.

Phew.  Got that out so I can continue on with the rest of this post.

My car is like a little old lady that has lived a young, beautiful and adventure filled life.  She has gone to concerts, parties, and witnessed a birth or two.  She ate McDonalds at 2 o'clock in the morning with no concern for weight gain.  She has sipped beer, wine and tequila in the same night...and never complained about the after math of that cocktail concoction.  She has been over mountains, through rivers (floods) and valleys.  She has survived snow storms and has tolerated the stings and shatters of rocks and branches.  She is reliable and driven.  And when she was really needed, she was there...no questions asked, no delays or hesitation.

Then, as the years passed, she started to show her age. Years of rolling her top down and allowing the warmth of the sun to beam down on her tan skin has taken its course.  Her once smooth leather skin is now wrinkled and cracked.  Over the years, her cloth covered floors are now permanently stained from her young party days and disrespectful weather.  The sun patches and discoloration, scratches and dents are nothing but scars that held a story more interesting than the next.  Like little photographs of original content.

Ava, my 1995 Toyota Avalon has 194789 miles of love on her.  Fortunately, she err I...we (?) haven't had "major"problems.  I say "major" because some people may consider a broken radio to be a major problem.  That's right, Ava no longer has beats.  We ride in silence.

At first this really bothered me.  I felt a little salty.  I didn't know how to function in a car of silence.  I mean, what do I do (aside from drive)?  What's going to keep me calm while I drive the mean streets and mentally run over half of the drivers that I encounter?  There was no way I could convince the makers of Xanax to create a liquid form that I could put into a drip line...let alone find someone to install the IV and drip.  Life seemed grim and I didn't know how long I could take it.  I loved tuning in to the local station to hear the latest song from some artist that I hated.  *insert major side eye* I really loved when I found a cassette converting thing that I could put into the deck and attach to my iPod.  What!?  Yes.  A cassette deck...with a cord...that I connected to my iPod.  It worked.  I was happy.

Eventually, I started to Depeche Mode and enjoy the silence.  I had time to think, regroup, and focus on my day ahead...or plan for dinner.  I had time to myself and I really enjoyed it.

The interesting part was when Mr. PSL and I took Ava out for a drive.  That was when I learned how much fun a drive could be without the annoyance of someone else telling me how to back that thing up, or some whiney teen singing about a breakup, or girlfriends or calling people, Maybe.  It was peaceful and freakin awesome.  (Notice that I can't even think of a recent song that was played on the radio 9357491385779645591 times in the same hour).

So awesome that Mr. PSL and I started creating games.  Little acts of trivia and what not.  You know how back in the day you would play Slug Bug or I Spy?  Well, we took it up a notch...

Name that movie- say a quote from a movie and the other person has to name the movie that featured the quote.  Bonus points of you can name the actor and scene involved.

Alphabet words - select a theme, then you have to name a word that starts with the corresponding letter.  Example: if the theme is fruit, the first answers could be Apple, Banana, Cantelop etc.

Name that song- pick a word and the other person must come up with a song that uses that word in a lyric.  Ex: The word is Pillow Answer: "(Lay your head on my) Pillow" by Tony!Toni!Tone!.

So if you ever find yourself driving in silence, or have a radio break down on you, get creative and get your brain going.  Break up the mindless music that seems to be on constant repeat.  You can really create a game out of anything.  It's simple, but it keeps things fun and interesting.  Just make it challenging.

No radio, Ava?  No Problem, boo.  I gotcha.

After all that sharing, you may be thinking that Ava seems like a junk of a car that needs to be sold for scraps.  Believe me, I've thought about.  But to me, she is a gas sucking, fluid leaking, skin frying, dimple having vessel of memories.

The best part about Ava is that she is mine.  I know this because her seat no longer adjust...as in it is permanently adjusted for me (Read: the motor died and I can no longer slide, tilt or add lumbar support).  I bet your car won't do that for you.  I guess your car just doesn't love you as much as Ava loves me.  Grab a tissue so you can go cry yourself to sleep.

Here's Ava:

I know, she's a gem. :)