Send in the clowns...

Few things shock me. I may have been absent or maybe I just skipped school that day. Oh wait, it's possible I may have been choking on my own bile and coughing so hard and loud I didn't hear my guidance counselor mention it. I mean can you imagine, all the marvelous things I could aspire to be.

I never really understood clowns. I did dress up as a clown once, for Halloween, unrecognizable to my own family. My own mother shut the door in my stupid clown face when trick or treating with my son in my arms. And we all know how terrifying clowns can be!! I watched Dumbo enough times with my younger brother to have the movie memorized, even now some 35 years later. I never liked the clowns. I thought they were stupid and goofy and uneducated and ridiculous. Maybe that was the point, but I never understood it. Bottom line, they're creepy. Creepy as all move bitch get out the way, I'm running for my life, AND I will never hire one for a child's party. I've seen too many terrified children and adults when faced by some creepy clown. Yes, even the ones some people think look cute. It's just creepy, man. I digress.

Did you know there was a school for clowns, some sort of legit clown college that people are stupid enough to actually pay thousands of dollars to get a clown education. But wait, there's more. There are also conventions and get together's and real creepy clown camaraderie where they all meet and pay homage to John Wayne Gacey. (I actually don't know if that part is true or not), but John Wayne Gacey is one of the most infamous serial killers of all time. All I know is, I'm not about to start emulating him.

So in closing, send in the clowns, because only a clown would pay for a clown education at a clown college.

*I don't really care if clowns everywhere are offended by this blog, in fact, I hope they are offended, because I find clowns offensive*

Hail the rapids...

I return to you, dear friend. Truth is, we share some pretty amazing moments. Unlike most people, I am comfortable here. Relying on you, knowing you won't let me down. Problem is I keep forgetting you're here.

Until that moment when I've flipped the raft in daunting white rapids and I'm drowning hoping to catch another breath before I go back under and praying I feel a hand reaching for my own. Alas, the hand I sometimes feel too often can't hold on to me or just decides to let go. As I get pushed further and farther under, giant rocks are appear everywhere. Some close enough to grab but too smooth to hold onto, some I nearly crash into that are sharp and blunt, so it rips through my skin and bruises my body. I just have to keep holding my breath, waiting for the troubled waters to return me to the surface where I can gasp for air and try to swim to safety on my own. Eventually, the troubled waters calm down and I manage to stay afloat. I'm exhausted, but now I'm treading water and breathing, it's all going to be okay. I've been here before. Maybe not the same river, maybe not the same rocks, maybe not the same current, but I've been here. I see the shoreline, just a little further is all that is left. I can make it. I can make it, but this time I'm going to be better prepared for the rapids. I'll wear a life vest. I'll master this fucking river or die trying. You don't know me. If you did, you'd know better. If I hadn't been flipped out that boat by that huge rock and I was the one on safe grounds, I would never have let go of your hand or I would've ridden the rapids with you, so you wouldn't have been alone.

I don't know how often I actually think of writing, but it's certainly not as often as I'd like. You could say it was laziness, or maybe being overwhelmed. I make no apologies for my life. I live it day by day and that evidently aggravates a wealth of busy bodies. I don't care. I'm tired of having to explain myself or validate my choices. It's my life. At least I'm living it!

It's been a while, since I could lift my head up high. Honestly, quoting a song - does me no justice. COnsidering some of the life experiences thrown my way - I'm usually much more resilient, but I attribute this one to sheer exhaustion. To admit this weakness, one might think I'm weak. Strangely, if you've ever met or know me - you know different. My ego and wallet have taken some major hits. I'm finally starting to feel like I can almost see the glassy surface of the water above. And, that is progress! I'll refrain from giving the tiresome boring details.

I will pen a few thoughts, as I feel it healthy and needed. I am simply thinking out loud. If I hurt anyone's feelings, so be it. My goal isn't about tip toeing around anyone else's feelings, but to help myself. Misunderstood, but who isn't?! Far too often, I find that I help and/or give of myself so much, that I ask for nothing or very little in return. It is my understanding that because my heart is so big and because I am often willing to be so giving, that I place no value or very little value on myself. People tend to take advantage of my generosity. Traditionally, this would be referred to as making myself a rug. I've often been asked why I'm always so ready to pick up my sword to defend myself. Strangely, this would be after a anger fueled argument or heated discussion that has resulted from my being tired of being said rug.

I find that many people (myself included) have a propensity to project our fears and suspicions on each other. We carry so much weight from the negativity, that often the glass doesn't even appear half empty. We sometimes don't even see the glass. Why do we have such an initial reaction with negativity. Have we begun to lose hope, have we all become pessimists? Finding ten minutes out of my day every day to be thankful for what I have, helps me. I start to realize that a lot of the things I think I need are really just material things I want. Material stuff never made me happy. But knowing I have a job, when so many are unemployed, or a place to live, when so many are homeless, or having my parents around that drive me crazy, when so many feel orphaned as their parents have passed away, or that my kids are healthy and can laugh, instead of wondering when their next meal might be. The simple things that we all forget. We become so consumed by our own lives and goals that we forget how to live, we forget our friends or our family. Quality over quantity. Still it's so easy to fall into the rut the masses follow, to become one of the sheep being led, instead of the shephard or leading others. I don't want to be like anyone else, and I think I can say comfortably, I'm not like anyone else. I want to wear a label, I don't need to and it isn't going to make me anything different than who I already am.

I also learned that standing up to the same people that say this are typically the very offenders and are shocked or beside themselves when I ultimately lash out. I would agree that perhaps my approach or style in choosing my battles has not lent itself to a worry-free life, but I was able to get what I had to say out. Whether or not it was heard, in some cases still remains to be seen.