10 Phrases I Can’t Respect

I’m gonna start backwards from #10.

It’s just the right thing to do, according to David Letterman.

10.  A bird in hand is worth two in the bush.

Additional comments: If I have to apply an algebraic equation to dissect your advice, maybe you should opt for just saying WHAT YOU’RE TRYING TO SAY.

9. It is what it is.

Additional comments: Oh, it is? Are you sure it isn’t what it is? Or perhaps, it isn’t what it isn’t? What happened to the the birds? Are they still hanging out in the bush? Or are they in my hand now?

8. The cream rises to the top.

Additional comments: So, let me just clarify -who’s da cream? From what I understand the ‘cream’ is supposed to be the better man, yes? But, in this scenario, the ‘better man’ will also lead to clogged arteries and therefore, ultimately cause a possible myocardial infarction. Please reconsider the philosophy behind this phrase. Or, just don’t say it cause it’s gross.

7. Take the bull by the horns.

Additional comments: So essentially, you’re assuming that I’m the stupidest person alive?

6. Dance like no one is watching, love like you’ve never been hurt, sing like no one is listening.

Additional comments: Quick! Someone SAVE MY EARS!! P.S. Do I have your permission to use my hairbrush as a microphone too? Cus that is about the only thing that could make this scenario more awesome.

5.When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Additional comments: Oh what a sunshiny outlook on life’s difficulties! But lets not set ourselves up for disappointment here. If all you have are a pile of questionable lemons, when you squeeze them, you’re only gonna end up with a cup of lemon juice with a bunch of pulp and seeds floating all up in it. Now, if life gives you a lemon, a pint of sugar plus a gallon of filtered water, then I’ll accept the legitimacy of this poorly thought out suggestion.

4. It takes more effort to frown that it does to smile.

Additional comments: It also takes you more effort to say that, than to not say it. Just looking out for you, chatty.

3. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Additional comments: Interesting theory, young Watson. But from what I’ve seen so far, absence only makes the heart grow fonder of people that it probably shouldn’t be fondling.

2. There is more than one way to skin a cat.

Additional comments: There is? What a relief! That narrows down the chances that I might have been doing it incorrectly all this time! Well, hot dog!

1.  The only thing to fear is fear itself.

Additional comments: Okay. I hear what you’re saying. But somehow, I feel like you’re failing to remember all the snakes and monsters and Osmond TV specials and stuff?

Honorable mentions: Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. Three sheets to the wind.

Use your best judgement,

Blunt

Am I Too Late For A Thanksgiving Post?

Your guess is as good as mine why two “loving parents” would allow their only daughter to eat corn on the cob directly off a dirty picnic table. Or to wear that Little House On The Prairie getup, that was clearly too small.

I was going to title this post: That Time I Tried To Run Away [OR Why I Hate Dogs]. But the truth is, there isn’t much to say about running away. I didn’t get very far. I have rather protective parents and an overly paranoid mother who is a very, very light sleeper. Plus they live on a dead end street in the middle of nowhere. Just saying, it was probably my most unsuccessful idea ever. Aside from the lemonade stand and the time I asked my dad for a horse and he scammed me into raising sheep.

Oh, and the whole dog thing is a mystery. I just hate them with a fiery passion. The smaller they are, the more unjustified hatred is directed toward them. Don’t get your panties in a bundle trying to figure it out. And please don’t use the word “panties.”

As usual, I’m fashionably late in getting to the Thanksgiving post. Despite my looming depression over the past year, I have a lot to be thankful for. You, for one. I realize I’m a horrible blog owner. I hardly post. I don’t always comment on your comments. And I’m an altogether frustrating mystery.

But you, you’re so forgiving of my wayward actions. You love me in spite of my disappearing acts. Truth be told, this blog has been a great source of inspiration for me in the past year. It’s been a place where I could honestly vent my frustrations and hopefully, you could too. The fact that any of you take the time to read my incomprehensible ramblings is more confusing than why my mom collects all those free gold-lined address labels that come in the mail, yet she refuses to use them because they are so ugly.

Although I often fill these virtual pages with rants and sarcasm, I am a very blessed individual. 2009 may have given me a round house kick to the stomach, but I have quite a few things to be thankful for:

photography

florence

best-friends

medieval-church2

parents2

babies

So there you have it.

Now stop labeling me a Crabby McUnthankfulPants. Next post we will be returning to BitterTown and your regularly scheduled whining.

 

Dear 2009, I’m Ready To Forgive You For Your Bastardly Ways

You know how when you meet someone for the first time and there’s just that instant connection? As they explained on Sleepless in Seattle: magic. The stars align, and in that moment it’s as if the whole universe existed just to bring the two of you together?

Well, that is not what happened when I was first introduced to 2009.

The year began with me laying in the darkness of my room, unshowered [for what might have been days], surrounded by leftover holiday candy wrappers, recently unemployed, and staring at the ceiling while listening to news anchors give unbiased coverage of the upcoming election make virtual love to Obama.

I thought about making resolutions, but then remembered I had just published my first story in Chicken Soup for the Soulwhich talked about precisely how much I hated resolutions.

As the year went on, I started devising a list of things that I’d never forgive 2009 for:

  • stealing my best friend away and shipping him to San Diego
  • the extra 15 pounds I put on by working in a bank office for 2 years but always justified with the fact that I made lots of money
  • losing said bank job and no longer having an reason as to why I was toting around an extra 15 pounds
  • making Illinois not only one of the most corrupt places to live, but one of the hardest places to get a job
  • causing various family members to get really sick and/or lose their minds
  • that spot on my carpet I couldn’t get out, even with the stuff that Billy Mays told me to buy
  • Billy Mays dying
  • my air conditioning bill
  • all of those people who rejected my story submissions thus deepening my depression and making my goal of becoming a full time writer seem impossible
  • turning 27

The list goes on, but the point is: it was just one of those years. Unfortunately, I felt like I’d been in “one of those years” for nearly a decade. It didn’t help that everyone around me was talking about CHANGE, yet I knew nothing was going to be different for me. Every passing year that I was working some random job instead of doing what I was passionate about, I found it harder to put on a happy face. Then, depression’s finest looking wing man, guilt, strolled in wearing a nicely coordinated suit. I started to feel guilty for being depressed. Cus, I mean, hey, I’m still breathing right?

Wait, hold on a second.

Oh, okay. Yes. The answer is yes, I’m still breathing. And on top of being able to breathe, the second installment of the Twilight Saga was released. There were things everywhere to be thankful for. Yet, I still struggled. I didn’t even put up a CHRISTMAS TREE, which nearly resulted in excommunication from my own family. If we were Catholic, that is.

But then. Irony struck my life again, when a routine email inquiry turned into a meeting on a snowy morning during Christmas week [that I almost blew off cus I love sleep too much and my car sucks in the snow and I had procrastinated all my shopping but mainly I just like sleep too much]. That meeting turned into a job as Senior Editor for a new magazine, in which I will be able to be as creative as I want. Which by the way, never happens in real life jobs. And, she found me in a random Google search in the middle of the night.

And now if you’ll lay back on the counseling couch, I’d like to say that dreams are a tricky thing. They can be the only driving force that keeps you going at times, yet the constant pursuit of dreams -accompanied by disappointment- can also destroy you. But here’s the good part: when you finally take just one small step towards fulfilling that dream, which you eventually will, it makes all of the rejection letters, and sleepless nights, and financial stress, and waiting tables, and writing about things you hate seem just… not important.

So hey, do me a solid and hang on to those dreams in 2010.

You have nothing to lose but your sanity.

My dad stole my Polaroid camera. He took this as I was walking through his backyard. He’s always been a big fan of my dreams.

dreams