turkey and a shrink

Thanksgiving, lets give thanks for this meal mom slaved over while we sat and watched the parade. Well it might be morbid but lets face its the truth. Right around the time dinner is hitting the table listen real close and you will hear everyone suddenly say 'Oh gosh golly gee can i help with anything.' Quite frankly i'm not saying there is anything wrong with this, would it be lovely if people helped, yes. in some sick twisted way is it borderline tradition to not help with shit on thanksgiving, yes.

Thanksgiving is one of those times where whether your like it or not you're about to spend sometime with some people you probably spend a lot of time avoiding. You get to listen to Grandpa complain, sister snuggle into her boyfriend, boyfriend answer the same questions that he has answered a hundred times, mom slave over the turkey. With some variation it is just about the same in everyones house at that moment.

There is always the person who has that token phrase that they thought up ahead of time. This is their go to phrase to use when attention shifts away from them. The ultimate of these phrases what coined by my sister. 'Have a Trip-ta-fan-tastic Thanksgiving'. Get that little play on words, its like i'm wishing you a happy thanksgiving and making a classic joke about tryptophan in turkeys. Oh man thats rich.

Thanksgiving is a holiday steeped in tradition and uncomfortable situations. Its that time of year, the holidays, where you have to come up with a bunch of shit to put a nice think sugar coating over whatever shit is going on in your life that you do not want to share.

Do I know what the fuck i am going to do with my life. NO! I have been a journalism major, a political science major, a music major, a major of just about everything my school offers. So yes i am the resident 'she will be in school forever' member of my family. This year I had the ultimate plan. I would the shut the question down with no questions asked.

so whats the latest major, my answer - psychology.

No one wants to touch psychology with a fucking ten foot pole. Psychology by nature is scary, psychologists will always find something wrong with you. Even worse are people that are just interested in psychology. These readers of psychology textbooks that feel empowered by it. The type of people that like to diagnose you with shit that they cannot even spell, let alone properly pronounce.

I decided this year lets not just leave it at psychology, lets spice that pot up, lets say i have a five year plan to do psychology, graduate and get my fucking doctorate. Now i'm not just going to be a shrink, i'm going to be a shrink with a prescription pad so if I decide now that you are sick with some mental fuckery your screwed because i am going to recommend you come in for a visit at my office and i will get you on some medication you will be paying out the ass for just to cure you of this embarrassing condition that you didn't even know you had.

Wow, this was perfect, not only would this get me out of talking about my life for the rest of the night, it would probably get me out of talking about my life for the rest of my life. or having to hear what anyone else had to say about their lives, lets face it no one wants to have their head shrunk at a family occasion. What i did not take into account was, I am the queen of the college majors and what my current major is really has to validity to anyone because by the next family occasion i will have a new major and new brilliant and life plan.

so at the end of it all, the biggest hope i have is making this blog work and telling them by christmas that i am a writing that has two people reading my blog on a semi regular basis. because really how fucking cool would that be.

until then, if you read this and your not my sister or mother, follow me comment me that would be swell.

keep on sneezing with open eyes

pulled a plumpy

Candy Land, a game intended for children, but lets face it, loved by adults. Grab your little plastic gingerbread man and pick a card we are off to save King Kandy. (off topic - but is it not a bit odd to spell a word wrong in a child's game, is that not teaching them at well whatever i can spell candy with a K if i want, King Kandy does it and he is a fucking King. Ms.(insert first grade teachers name here) if you were a King then maybe i would give a shit about your little spelling lesson.)

Candy Land should not be marketed as a frivolous game, that game is practically a candy coated version of daily life. Start at the beginning, a good day and you will cross the Rainbow bridge, get a Queen Frostine card and win the game and bragging rights. The average Every Day you never get any special characters and poke along but eventually make it to the end. Crappy day, you get the Queen Frostine card, make it all the way to the end your sailing past Gloppy and throwing up a high five your so close to the king, thats the moment when you pull the Plumpy card. Well your life fucking sucks your all the way back to the beginning sucker. and lets face it, you lost you are never seeing the end and King Kandy.

Who hasn't had a Plumpy kind of day. If you say you haven't well then this blog probably isn't for you. (but please pass it on to your friends and family i would love to gain a following!)

hoping no one Pulls a Plumpy tomorrow or in the future,

until then keep on trying to sneeze with open eyes.

first day - second blog

over zealous people tend to give me a headache. this was my first thought when deciding to write a second blog on my first day in the world of blogging. I, quite frankly don't have much of a place in the blogging world. My grammar for one thing in terrible and I put commas where I pause in sentences, not necessary where the sentence deserves a pause. I do have a lot of opinions about a lot of things, but my opinions are commonly those types of opinions that offend people, so i like to keep them to myself in most public arenas. A friend of my blogs and she explained to me that it is the perfect way to say all the shit you want to say that you cannot say in public. Because what I have learned is that even though most people are thinking all the same shit as me, it is not publicly kosher to say it out loud.
so posting a second blog in one day, quite frankly another post within the same hour, got me thinking about how much of a headache I get just by thinking about over excited people. The truth about these people is I wish I was one. But waking up in the morning makes me tired. I am more tired by eight in the morning than most people I know are at eight at night. (eight at night, forget about it I am practically a zombie) People with massive amounts of energy make me even more tired. Where do they get all of that energy. They must be on something right? No one can be that happy and ready to go all the time.
What are they taking? Where can I get it? Why hasn't the FDA outlawed it?
These energetic people tend to get things done. They are not the procrastinators of the world. My philosophy is do what I have to do. The rest can be put off until I'm too old to do anything but learn how to knit, or take up some other wonderful hobby that I would love to be able to say that I have.
I go out and buy the craft items sure, I sit with the yarn and needles and pretend like i am actually going to learn how to do something with  my time. But do I, no i dont. I sit and watch another episode of Will and Grace, or the latest in MTV teen trash.
This is my life, doing what needs to be done everyday. Spending my free time vegging by a television and going to bed.
Where do these go getters get the stamina to do the above and beyond.
If you know what they are taking, please let me know.
until then,
lets just keep on trying to sneeze with our eyes open

A Sneeze with Open Eyes

I want to be a writer. That's a simple sentence right, but within that sentence is a massive goal. I goal which probably is unachievable. The odds of a clinical procrastinator sitting down and writing a book are low, the odds of a consistent scatter brain stringing thoughts together that makes sense are low. So me writing a book, probably never going to happen. Me writing a book anyone could read and comprehend, probably never going to happen.
I enjoy odd things, I don't like things that are normal. On this the day I decided to begin writing my own blog I did the oddest of things. While driving I felt a dreaded sneeze coming on, it was not dreaded because I had to sneeze, it was dreaded because I was on the highway and of course my eyes would automatically shut while I sneezed. I tried with all my might to keep my eyes open and I achieved it. An open eyed sneeze. This was the oddest of things, why do your eyes close when you sneeze, what happens in the world that your eyes are so compelled to shut and miss that moment in time.
Being a self proclaimed worry wart, I convinced my self that my eyes began to hurt, a twitch came on. Whether we think about it or not the world has taught us that our eyes will shut upon a sneeze. Our eyes should also shut when we kiss, if they don't your a freak. Why is that?
So I ask you the perhaps two people that might glance on this rambling of a post, try to sneeze with your eyes open. May it be a random sneeze or may it be a forced sneeze (try some pepper), try to keep those peepers open and see what happens in the world during that moment. See if your eyes twitch when the sneeze is over.
Try the unthinkable, the impossible, Sneeze With Open Eyes.