One word to describe the last few days: Dysfunctional.

I will write a longer, less ambiguous post about this in a day or so when I’ve fully processed and digested the repercussions of whats gone down.

Suffice to say I have some thinking to do.

I just spilled my guts to my grandma.

And she, eloquent woman she is, said “Well, shit, life gets so fucking complicated sometimes.”

You want to  know a secret?
Underneath this facade of charming unemotional goodness, I am really a big drippy mess just like the rest of you. There is no place where that shines through more than my blog.

And I swear to God, if another man tells me that I’m strong and independant and “not like most girls” I am going to scream. Because your so wrong.
The more accurate statement is that I keep my cool better than everyone else, because I’m secretly a disaster.

Just like most girls, I have my nights when I’m antsy as hell, and I don’t sleep because everything in my life has become overwhelming.
Just like most girls, I sometimes stare at my phone and wonder why in the hell it is not ringing. And then curse profusely when the wrong person calls.
Just like most girls, I cry occasionally. The difference is, I do it alone in the car with the music blasting and I pull my shit together before I leave my vehicle.

I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m a cliche just like everyone else.

And I’m not that interesting unless you spend some time getting to know me.

I keep writing this, and then deleteing it.
UGH.

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some things in this world, man they don’t make sense

My function level the last few days has been low.

It’s been a rough week.

My uncle is in town, and the unfortunate part of being an adult is that your perception of someone as a child is completely wrong, and the older you get, the more you realize that. My uncle is pretty awesome guy, but he’s as fucked up as the rest of us, and as a kid, the man was my hero.

And the reasons he is here are not good. My greatparents have managed to get themselves in some trouble, and suffice to say that’s more than needs to be said about it on the interweb. It concerns me.

My ass is in trouble too. Not serious “go to jail” trouble, but “go to court and hope the judge is in a good mood” trouble. I’ll be the first to admit that I am absentminded, unorganized and downright irresponsible sometimes but it’s come back to bite me in the ass and it looks like I’m going to have to have to learn my lesson from this one.

So I’ve had a lot on my mind.

I have so much I want to accomplish. I’ve been spinning my wheels too long on this school thing and I feel like I have not enough to show for the amount of time I’ve had to do something. I’ve pretty much come to terms with the fact that I am not going to have my B.A. until I’m 25, and who the hell knows if it’s even going to do me any good. I’ve cooled my heels on the dog training thing for a while here because I did not feel like getting kicked while I was down, but I’m not done, just temporarily in stand still until I find someone else in the mood to teach (which, it’s becoming quite clear, is no easy feat, but I’m a patient gal and I’ll find someone eventually). I’m under serious pressure to declare a major and it fucking sucks in a nutshell.

The fact is, I spend most of my life being five steps ahead of everyone else, and right now I’m behind. It’ll be fine, one way or the other. Even if it turns out I really am a grapefruit. Grapefruits are low function, and therefore don’t care about being grapefruits.

See? Everything will be alright.

they call me her, thats not my name

WANTED: FEMALE COUNTERPART (SOMETIMES REFERRED TO AS “BEST FRIEND”, “BESTIE”,  OR “BFF”)

REQUIREMENTS: Must be attractive, eloquent, intelligent, have a love for tequila, blogging, older men, possess the ability to “get down with her bad self”, enjoy dancing, good music, and shoes.

The ideal candidate’s children would (someday) call me “Auntie Mychal”.

Candidates with excess baggage are welcome to submit an application. We’re a little fucked up too.

Those with low self esteem, cardboard personalities, in perpetually bad moods,whiners and virgins need not apply.

boy, you walk this world like your a ghost

“See what your doing right now? Your feeling all of your feelings right out in the open and you need to stuff them back in.”

I’m going to do something now that my father hates, and write an ambiguous post about a boy. Man, rather.

Look, I’m just going to come right out and say it because I’ve not said your name, and you’ll never find this blog- I like you. And I know I’m not supposed to, and I know this will ultimately end badly, but it’s a fact that I have to acknowledge it before I can deal with it- I like you.

I couldn’t help it. Believe me, I tried really hard NOT to like you. And I know, I know how I reacted the one time you spat some warm fuzzies in my direction, I know how many times I found an excuse not to let you take me out for my birthday, I know what a bitch I can be. I scare easily, and I had a lot going on at the time. If this was a TV show, I’d have come to my senses and told you all of this while the reception was still warm, but it’s not a TV show, and the reception is cold these days.

I know you see other people, I’m not stupid, and you don’t hide it. And I know your unlikely to ever give that up, and I suppose that’s what makes you you, so when I say I’m not looking for anything from you, I’m being sincere, because even if you did, I’m not right for you-the odds are stacked against me. It’s just emotionally draining for me to keep doing this. I told myself, “only once”, and then “only twice”, “a few times”, and here I am, shit, almost eight months later.

I could say I’m going to quit, but I’m only kidding myself.
Look at me, writing a blog about you.
How lame am I right now?

the ten commandments/the rules of attraction

I believe in chocolate as a form of therapy.
I believe in sitting in the sunshine.
I believe in yelling at the television when watching scary movies- fucking morons always manage to lock themselves in with the killers.

I believe…
…that’s okay to leave the house with wet hair sometimes, no matter what your mother told you.
…in wearing high heels whenever possible- but tennis shoes facilitate speedier travel and sometimes that’s necessary, not to mention it’s a bother and totally unsexy to be bitching about your feet.
…in being maternal but not motherly.
…that people who do not want children should not have children.
…that “Naked” by The BoDeans is one of the sexiest/romantic songs ever made. Also in this category- “Stellar” (Incubus) and “If you could only see” (Tonic)
…that driving an ostentatious mercedes/bmw/shit what is that other luxury car that no one cares about? Oh yeah, a lexus- does not say to the world “I have made it”, it says “I am an asshole who double parks my car and thinks I own the road”.
…(speaking of vehicles) that anyone who drives a hummer should kill themselves now. I can practically see the dollar bills leaking out of your tailpipe as you piss them away in your 4 miles a gallon TANK. We all know that hardly qualifies as a car.
…in being there for your friends 100% of the time- even if that means letting them puke in your car because they are shit drunk, because you remember the time they let you sleep in their bed for a week because your family gave you the boot.
…that most men are not worth wasting serious emotion in until they have reached the age of 25. I don’t have anything against guys my age, except that they are all over the place and don’t know what they want, and frankly those are not qualities I seek in a relationship. Obviously there are exceptions.
…that manhood is not reached by age, it is reached by maturity and wisdom. I know some 40something year old BOYS and some 20something year old MEN.

I believe in lost causes.
…in tequila.
…that it is a task to get to know me well, but once your in, your in until you take yourself out, and I’ll put my ass on the line for you.
…in second chances.
…in blogging (obviously).
…in proper kisses- girls, you know what I’m talking about, when your all pressed up against something and they’ve got just the right amount of force, but also the right amount of gentleness- anyone who can achieve this is a keeper.
…that sex is never just sex, unless you never ever see them again.
…in TV on the internet.
…in dreaming a lot.
…that I have an emotional IQ of about 2, and I don’t always know how to act or know what to say when I feel something.
…that I’m grateful for the people in my life who know that and are patient with me.
…that we’re all a little fucked up.
…that if you really don’t want something, you won’t put yourself in a position where you could be convinced to let it happen anyways.
…that sometimes people come into your life for a brief and intense time and leave it just as fast as they came into it- and even if your left picking up the pieces for a long time, it still happened for a reason, if for nothing else, to teach you something.
…that the best way to not feel guilty or sad or about something is not to think about it.
…that girls who wear ugg boots with shorts are stupid and have no fashion sense, ditto tights/leggings worn with shirts that don’t cover your ass- hello, asking people to mock your camel toe!
…that big man hands, shoulders and backs are god’s gift to women and gay men.
…that I might be a little bit lesbian for Annalynne McCord (the bitch from 90210 & Nip/Tuck), we have the curly haired kismet!

I believe dancing is good for you.
…in Grey’s Anatomy, even if everyone says its about to jump the shark!
…in little moments- the ones where everything seems perfect even if your life is crashing down around you.
…in nice guys- I know they exist, I’m privileged to know a few .
…that it takes a lot for me to ask for help, and if I feel passed off or unimportant I will never ask that person for help again.
…that I’m a raging bitch if I don’t eat every 5 hours.
…that I probably spend too much money on starbucks.
…but you will never get me to concede that I spend too much money on my hair- it’s worth every penny.
…that people who spend more than two minutes a day discussing people’s lives who are not present seriously need to get a hobby.
…but my guilty pleasure is celebrity gossip blogs.
…that you can never own too many pairs of shoes.
…that there is something out there bigger than myself, but I don’t know what I believe in terms of what happens to us when we die. I’d like to believe in heaven, but the most likely scenario is that it’s just over.
…that men who are looking for a wife and a mother for their children are the most likely to be calling up hookers or fucking their secretaries in a few years- I will eventually be someones wife and I will eventually be someone’s mother but that will not be what defines me.
…that a lot of people get boring as they get older and I don’t want that to happen to me- I don’t mean that I want to party all the time, I mean that I want to have substance still.

I believe that anyone reading this blog and it’s various truths (from my eyes) has every right to disagree with me, that’s what makes us people and that’s what makes us interesting.

Ugh

My grandma showed me where she keeps her dead husband.
He used to live on the shelf above her bed, and yesterday she informed me that she moved him into the closet in an attempt to get on with her life.
She said to me, “Here, let me show you where he is, in case you ever need him for something.”
The man in the closet is/was husband number seven.

This is not nearly as bad as Shaun’s mothers dead cat curio cabinet.
She’s collecting dead cats. When a cat dies at the sanctuary that she enjoyed, she has them cremated and put in a small box, like you might expect to find jewerly in. And then they live in the curio cabinet. And I’m not talking about one or two, I’m talking about a LOT of dead cats.
And this is in addition to the fifteen or so living cats that inhabit her home.

I’m sure people judge me too. I have no doubt about it. But my oddities mainfest themselves in much tangible ways, theres not as much to known if you don’t take the time to get to know me.

For whatever reason, these two things really sat with me.
Shortly after my grandma showed me her dead husband, she proceeded to ask me why I never liked him.
How do you answer a question like that, especially when you get blindsided with it?
I tried to answer it delicately and blame in on teenage hormones and not understanding his Jewish humor, but the truth is, I never had a problem with him. When my grandma wasn’t married, she was the shit. We’d hang out at her apartment and she’d take me places and we’d go to lunch, and I’d spend a ton of time with her in general. I was blessed to only remember 2 of her marriages and one didn’t last long. But the man in the closet? She seemed to really like him. And once they were married, it was like I ceased to exist. Don’t get me wrong, she still turned up to family events.. sometimes. And I still saw her sometimes. But never alone.

As a kid, this was difficult to comprehend, and as a teenager I was just bitter and pissed off.
I spent a lot of my teenage years hating a lot of people.
I hated my father for not being around. I hated Larry for being an asshole. I hated my mother for choosing Larry. I hated Larry’s mother because she always made it very clear that I was the black sheep of the family. I was not Larry’s offspring, and therefore I was not good enough. She took my brothers places, and bought them CRAP. She adored my mother because she “saved” Larry. She was never warm towards me, she never liked me much, she never went out of her way to do anything nice for me, and that stupid bitch actually encouraged my mother to kick me out.

YES, I am still angry. And I am still bitter and resentful.
The day I got kicked out of my house the second time (and the time that was actually permanent), I was eighteen and in trouble for something stupid. Not to say that I shouldn’t have been in trouble, but it was a trivial matter that got blown out of proportion (I think I didn’t clean my room before I went out). And somehow or other, this matter turned into an outright BRAWL with Larry screaming and calling me an ungrateful bitch, and somehow it escalated into him actually coming towards me. My mom held him back and since he couldn’t get to me, he spat in my face instead.

Do you know how degrading and insulting it is to have someone elses spit on your face?

I got enough things together to survive the night and I went out the door. I had no car, since it was in the shop, so I took off down the block, bawling. I had a blanket and a pillow, and I can’t imagine what the cop was thinking when he pulled over to check on me. He insisted that I show him my ID, and since I was 18, he couldn’t make me go home. He offered me a ride somewhere, but I turned it town, as riding in the back of a cop car was going to be the icing on the cake of a horrifying day.

That was the first time I called Shaun. I hardly knew him, having met him a handful of times, and his expressing a timid interest in me. I asked him to come pick me up, and he agreed.
In the end, I let my best friend pick me up instead, because I was a mess, but we back to his apartment and thats where I lived for the next three months until he and I got our own place.
So I am fiercely loyal, to both Shaun and Michelle because that was easily the lowest point in my life.
Shaun and I may not be together, but I will never think badly of him. He and Michelle spend a lot of thier time cleaning up my messes.

The day I came back to get most of my things, Larry’s mom was there. And she was convincing my mother that this was the right thing to do, and I was going to have rude awakening and realize I couldn’t do, and maybe it would give me a little perspective. 

Stupid. I did just fine, until the economy went to shit. Now I’m in debt, and I’m living in a small bedroom and bathroom of a senior living community.

So yes, I’m still bitter. And I’m still angry. And I probably will be for some time.
There is reasons I do the things I do.

I’ve grown up enough to know that my mom, Larry and his mother are fucked up too, and there’s reasons they do the things they do. But somehow, that doesn’t make it all that much easier.

My mom is convinced somehow that I have a normal functioning family. That little snapshot is a mere sliver of my life the last twenty years. And it only took place two years ago, and I have not given them the oppurtunity to do it to me again, because I outright refuse to live with my parents again.

My mother is a good lady, and I love and adore her to no end. And Larry, despite everything, makes her happy, and he is the father of my baby brothers who I would do anything for. So it’s hard for me to continue to be angry, but it’s hard for me to let it go.

I’m getting on an airplane to go see my family in two weeks. I’ve not managed a trip out there yet without some kind of meltdown.

Welcome to life, please take a seat and enjoy the ride.