Thursday, March 31, 2011

I got 99 readers (and a bitch ain’t one)!

If you may remember from last week’s post, I promised I would post a naughty pic if I hit 100 readers. Not X-rated or anything (my mom reads this!), but something more like “hayyyy!”

It’s like this, but I’m laying in hamburger wrappers.

I wanted to talk about readers and following my blog today. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! But more than that, I need to let you guys know that, at the moment, I gave myself a moratorium for following new blogs. At one point not too long ago, it was taking me over three hours to read a day’s worth of blog posts from my blog roll-and that was just reading them. To be honest, I was skimming over them and not commenting because I had so many more blogs to read.

About a month ago I cut out over half of my blog list. It was a very tough decision, since a lot of the bloggers I stopped following were ones that I have a kinship with. It wasn’t personal! It’s hard for me to identify with mommy/daddy blogs. It’s hard for me to follow religious blogs. It’s hard for me to follow topic-specific blogs I have no idea about or have no interest in. Even now I am still weeding some out. My hopes are that I can rotate blogs once a month so I am not missing out on any content.

If you’re a blogger, you know un-following blogs (or being un-followed) is a touchy subject. There are a lot of people (myself included when I just started out) that will follow you and expect you to follow them in return. I get why we do it, but it’s not the best practice in my opinion. I like to read and absorb a story. If I feel like I can contribute somehow, I like to comment. I don’t think it benefits anyone if I press the “follow” button and never, ever read the blog. I would hope that you read my blog because you enjoy it, not because you feel obligated to! That would suck! The minute writing feels like a job I know I am doing something wrong, you know?

Now, if you happen to read me and say to yourself “holy crap we think alike!” or something like that, by all means send me a link to your blog in a comment or e-mail me. Like I said, I don’t want to miss out on something great!

One last thing: I usually bounce around with the crap I talk about. I would love to answer any and all of your questions if you have some to ask. You should know by now that I’m pretty damn honest, and no subject (I think) is off-limits. My e-mail is Hed@hedabovewater.com. Give me some brain food, people!

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Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Hed vs. Australia-Argument one.

First of all, I was chosen as Copyboy's new blog of the day! Sweet! If you haven’t been, check out his site and sign up for his nifty promotional website Bloggerdise-where you can team up with craftspeople, artists, and the like to set up some kick ass giveaways and specials.

I should probably let you all know that my husband and I are in talks. Talks about us. Talks about me to come back to Australia-eventually. As most of the world knows, America is going to hell in a handbasket and the economy sucks ass, whereas Australia is thriving. J is almost done with school, which means he will be scouting around for IT jobs in the big cities soon. Plus I miss the shit out of him. It’s been almost four months since I have done seen him. Hell, seeing any man shirtless at the moment makes me break into a cold sweat. I NEED HIM!!!

Jared Leto…hipbones…nooo…stay away!!! Can’t…breathe!!!

Anyway, J likes to use logic more than I do (can’t…stop looking…at Jared Leto as I type…!). He knows that in the long run Australia is overall a better bet for us to settle down and restart our lives together. I told him this time we needed our own place before I come back. Not because my in-laws are monsters-on the contrary, they are saints and the best human beings on the planet-it’s because of all of my issues. I can’t live around essentially strangers who don’t understand me-J has a hard enough time as it is. Plus my food woes increase about a thousand fold Down Under. I just need my own space in order to assimilate in a proper way.

Here’s the first issue I am trying to overcome: If you will remember yesterday’s post, there are a hell of a lot of animals in Australia that I can’t come to terms with. This is a HUGE argument between my husband and I.

Me: Doesn’t it bother you? I mean, you guys just leave the doors open all willy-nilly and ANYTHING can just walk in. For God’s sake Jasper [the dog] almost died from a snake bite in the yard! That could be ME!!!

J: It’s not that bad. Geckos in the house are good! They kill the mossies [mosquitoes] in the house and other bugs. They are helpful and inside dwellings is their habitat.

Me: Doesn’t that strike you as STRANGE?!?! I mean, you have LIZARDS! IN THE HOUSE! ON THE CEILING WAITING TO DROP ON YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAMN NIGHT!!!

J: No, not at all. What is weird is YOU GUYS. You seal up your houses like they are sterile, and freak out and kill EVERY living creature you come across in the house!

Me: THAT’S BECAUSE THIS IS MY  HOUSE! Those bitches are coming into my home turf, and they deserve to die! They are like home intruders coming to rob yo shit! Babe, you really think WE’RE the weird ones? Really?!?!

J: Uh…yeah! I mean it’s a freaking bug! Who cares!

 

I CARE!!! But it’s just an example of cultural differences. It would be like if I was raised to worship Satan and he worshiped Jesus. You wouldn’t be able to sway me because it would be all I knew. Does that make sense?

As for the animals…I know America has scary spiders and snakes of death. I know they dwell in houses (like black widows can). But my point of view from living in a populated state where there is virtually no landscape left, these animals are RARE and in the wild. All of Australia is wild (in my opinion, except the larger cities-and even J tells me geckos hang out there too-DAMN IT!), and the land is fully integrated into the cities. When I say J lives in the bush, I really mean J lives in the damn bush (sounds dirty).

Let’s compare, if you will. First, let us talk about spiders (shield your eyes if you are afraid, folks). When was the last time you saw a tarantula casually walking around your house? That is the only way I can explain the size of a Huntsman spider, a harmless but GIANT spider. I stole the first picture from Mynx's post about finding a dead Huntsman….on her COUCH. Her living space!!! Imagine if you walked in the house and LAY DOWN on the couch without looking!!! *shudders in fear*

Here’s another picture to try and give you the actual size…

See, J may be able to go “hey, a Huntsman. I will grab it and take it outside and release it into the wild”, but if I saw one of these I think I would tend to react more along the lines of this:

Next, we have snakes. Yes, I know we have snakes in California-even the dreaded Rattlesnake is here. But I live in tract housing, folks. Pretty sure the only wild snake I would see walking down the street is a ball python that got loose from its tank in some creepy dude’s house. Let’s say I walk in the house after J left the front door wide open and some DEATH ADDER is slithering on the damn tile. Then what? Oh yeah, DEATH!

“Hey! Let me in! I got PIZZA, BITCH!”

I’d like to take this moment and share with you a lovely picture of  The Strand, a strip of ocean I would be living closest to (you can open your eyes now, no scary animals! Promise!)

Isn’t it just gorgeous? Here’s the thing: See that white square in the center extending from the sand to the sea? That’s a stinger net. That is essentially the ONLY safe place to swim or even step foot in if you choose to get in the water, due to the box jellyfish. Even then there has been known to still be stings because parts of the jellyfish sever off and get through the netting and still have the ability to sting you-causing intense, searing pain and sometimes death. Also on The Strand are cute little mailboxes every quarter mile (kilometer?) that contain jugs of vinegar. Have fun at the beach, kids!

Lastly we have the animal that most people think of when they think of Australia: The dreaded KOALA or what the locals call “Drop Bears”.

No, I kid. I mean the crocodile. Crikey! (Seriously I think Mynx and my husband are going to kill me for this post) I love fishing. When I first visited my future home I was taken fishing on this secluded strip of land on the Anabranch River. You had to drive off-road to get there, and its undisturbed. The entire time I was there I was thinking a crocodile is going to shoot out of the water and eat my leg! Does this look romantic? This is me and J on the river. Aww. I hope I don’t die…

So you can’t swim in the ocean due to jellyfish. Okay, I’ll swim in the lakes! No can do, my friend. Crocodiles are EVERYWHERE!

Are you freaking serious?

I took this video myself during the same trip as above, and I’m even scared of the ones they have enclosed…IMAGINE if I came across one that WASN’T in a cage! (Yes that’s me talking)

”What if he MOVES???”

So yes, this is one thing I have an issue with when moving to Australia again. J may laugh and scoff, but I’m serious when I say these things frighten me! I would love for my American and  Australian friends to weigh in on this issue!

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Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Redbacks and brown snakes and crocs, oh crap.

I was going through posts on my Australia blog today, and I came across one that I wrote after being there for a week. I was cracking up reading it, because I seriously was SO FREAKED OUT by the animal “situation” they have in Australia. I thought you guys may like it.

(Dated September 3, 2010)

 

Last night my father-in-law yells, “hey Hed, there’s a gecko in the bathroom, come look at it!” I slowly walk in and he points to the window. “See it, it’s just right there!” and I go, “huh? Where?” and get closer until I see this tiny little lizard camouflaged into the background. I yell for J to get my camera, and laugh like a mad scientist at the size of this animal. His body must be comprised of 92% lungs. Their call is LOUD. When I went to bed last night and heard their mating cry, I mocked them as I fell fast asleep.

I got a comment from a friend who lives in Brisbane that read, “Geckos? Nah they're cute. It's the redback spiders you need to be wary of.” Huh? Didn’t Steve Irwin teach us that all scary deadly Aussie animals live in the Outback? I don’t live in the Outback! So, of course, I Wiki “Redback spider”, and am happy to see that it’s just a sister to the ever-present Black Widow spider in California. No harm, no foul. I reply, “oh! we have those! I’m not TOO worried about those little guys :)”, to which he replies, “Ah yeah the funnel webs will get ya too. Literally... They move really fast so don't go near a nest if you see one :)” DAMN IT!!! WHAT THE HELL IS A FUNNEL WEB SPIDER?!!?! I go back on Wiki and look up “Funnel-web spider”. Wiki reads, “Funnel-webs are one of the three most dangerous spiders in the world and are regarded by some to be the most dangerous.” Oh, Jesus. Now I’m looking under the toilet seat when I pee, turning on the light to walk down a hall, wearing shoes in the house, lifting up the pillows before I go to bed…now one irrational gecko fear is conquered, I have to now be afraid of SPIDERS??

If I ever see one of these I’m going to poop myself. 

Casually I ask my mum about snakes. I remember last summer Jasper, the Jack Russell Terrier, got bit by a snake and was near death. She tells me, “ah, you only see brown snakes in the summertime, and you kind of just know when they’re about”. You do? You have a snake sixth sense? I don’t think I have that. Is it learned? Can you teach me BEFORE SUMMER??? But alas, “Brown Snake” isn’t deadly or dangerous sounding, right? I think of “Kill Bill” and their Deadly Viper Assassination Squad: Black Mamba, Sidewinder, Cottonmouth, etc. No one was named “Brown Snake”. That would sound gay. (Poor Mr. Pink in “Reservoir Dogs”, but that’s another movie altogether.) For my own knowledge, I Wiki “Brown Snake”. BAD IDEA. The second sentence states, “It is one of the world's deadliest snakes. This, combined with a native habitat which includes the well-populated east coast of Australia, has resulted in fatalities.” DAMN IT!!! Does it make a warning sound like a Rattlesnake? No! Will they strike only when in danger? No! Do they live far away from farms and houses? NO!!! WHAT THE HELL, MAN! Now I can’t walk outside, I’m keeping all the doors and windows shut, taping my pants to my leg so nothing can slither in as I sleep! (No, not really. But I might.)

Silent AND deadly? Grr!220px-Eastern_Brown_Snake_-_Kempsey_NSW

The only decent ending to this story is that I live nowhere near water. Crocodiles and alligators and jellyfish and stingrays, UP YOURS!!!

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Monday, March 28, 2011

Thank you.

You know how there are times where you are mortified/scared/ in pain/embarrassed and then you look back and laugh or say “it wasn’t that bad?” That’s how I now feel about Friday (and no I’m not talking about that waste of life song-it will ALWAYS be bad).

Mind you, I was in the throes of anxiety that night, and experiencing the after burn of it as I was writing my blog post-but reading all of your words and thinking about the night, I am much better today about the whole situation. Panic attacks throw logic out the window. As much as I would want  to tell myself that everything was just fine at the very moment I started to freak out, the fight or flight reflex kicked in and I just wanted the feeling to end as soon as possible.

Anonymous wrote: ‘Two weeks ago, I was invited to see “Sucker Punch” and have dinner. Dinner was kick-ass. Fun and laughs and great seafood. I have had four “good” days in a row.’ :) Cool!

Kage wrote: I think it's great that you got yourself out there, boo, and stuck with it for a whole evening. it's hard to even accept the invitation when you have social anxieties, but you did it. la you :)

Deus wrote: …Yes, yes. I know that feeling. No comforting words if you don't want them, but know that for us, what you accomplished was a victory.

And Mynx topped it all off with: Don't care if you don't want it. I am sending you hugs anyway and you will just have to have them. You are a strong beautiful young woman who had 4 great days and one bad one. That is 80% positive. That is a pass in my book. Hugs

You guys, all of these words, no matter if they were said just to cheer me up or said in passing, left a giant impact on me. Serious. I have to remember the “glass half-full” frame of mind when bad thoughts come or I am feeling uncomfortable. I know it won’t always work, but since my depression hit, it’s felt like one step forward and ten steps back. It’s a struggle every day just to tell myself to get out of bed. But you guys are right: I did it and I should pat myself on the back for it, not bring myself even further down. And for helping me with that you have my deepest respect and love, y’all.

PS-I think I looked cute that night (which is RARE!) :) I wore a polka dot shirt with my polka dot headband. Holla!

Pardon the emo bangs….

Since this blog is titled “Thank You”, I wanted to catch up on a couple of awards I was given-I’ve been slacking!

First of all, Pencil Girl awarded me with the “Blog With Substance” award two weeks ago! She is unbelievably sweet-she wrote: If I had to describe Hed in a word, it would be honest. Her blog is simple and sweet. Almost the exact opposite of my melodramatic, attention-seeking monologues. :P You have got to check out Hed's blog, you're sure to love it. :)  Thanks!

There are no rules to this award apparently, so I am going to throw it out to one other blogger-Mynx at Dribble... She always has something great to talk about, whether it be about her job at the castle mail post; her family foibles; the addiction she has to her IPad (I will beat you at Words With Friends one day, sucka!); or answering questions about anything and everything. She is definitely a blogger you should be following.

And last week my girl Heather over at Sugar Free Thoughts gave me a repeat of “The Versatile Blogger” award!

Here are the rules to this bad boy:
- Thank the person who gave it to you 
- Share 7 things about yourself
- Pass it along to whatever amount of bloggers you feel like passing it on to


First of all, Heather is the bomb diggity (yes, I just said that). She is the Cal Naughton Jr. to my Ricky Bobby.

Ricky: From now on, you're the Magic Man and I'm El Diablo.
Cal: What does Diablo mean?
Ricky: It's like... Spanish for like a fighting chicken.

Second, I hope you will forgive me for cutting and pasting my answers from when I won the award on my Australia blog:


1. I am phobic of cockroaches. Phobic! (a persistent, irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to a compelling desire to avoid it.) I hyperventilate and start shaking if I see one-I can’t even watch them on TV.

2. I bite my nails like a crackhead. They are really bad! I knew J was my soulmate because his nails are as bad as mine, and he wouldn’t be like my mom-smacking my hand out of my mouth!

3. Not only did I get kissed by Fred Durst, he signed my boobs (mind you, this was in 1999 when Fred Durst was relevant). Other celebs I have met: Drew Barrymore at Magic Mountain, Pauly Shore, the bands Staind and Kid Rock’s crew, Wes Borland, Robin Finck and Danny Lohner from Nine Inch Nails, Josh Freese, and Chuck Fucking Norris. I once stood next to Tommy Lee and Mark Wahlberg and was too chicken to talk to them!

4. My favorite TV show of all time is The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (followed closely by Grey’s Anatomy and The Simpsons).

5. My son’s name was supposed to be Bowie, but everyone hated it. My grandma kept pronouncing it “Boy”, because she’s from Oklahoma. If I ever have another kid, his name will be Bowie (or maybe his middle name ha ha).

6. Random hairs drive me crazy (like eyebrow, chin, arm, greys, etc.). I have been known to monkey out and literally rip the hairs out with my fingers-my poor best friend is always getting his hairs pulled out by me!

7. I have 23 tattoos. Okay to be fair 17 of them are stars on my back (for my birthday), two of them are matching bows near my collarbone, one is my nickname on my wrist, one is a dragon at the top of my back, one is a Virgo girl in the middle of my back, and my first tattoo is a rainbow dotted pinwheel at the base of my back (tramp stamp).

So there you go. As for passing this along, please check out all the lovely bloggers over on my blogroll -----> OH! And while you’re there, vote on this week’s poll!

Thanks errrybody!

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Sunday, March 27, 2011

Hed’s Sunday Shortlist.

I haven’t done a shortlist in ages, but I have spent the last five hours watching VH1’s “100 Greatest Artists of All Time”, and it got my gears working. I have a LOT of ideas for the next few Sundays.

This weekend I’ve been also thinking about love. I miss the hubs so much. I’m usually on an even keel when it comes to the longing, but there are times I will watch a romantic movie or see a shirtless dude and I get all bent out of shape-what got me today was the scene when Andie was afraid to go into the prom, then Duckie shows up and she runs to him and they hug. “Pretty in Pink”, people!

Remember???

Anyway, the mix of love and music got me reminiscing about young love-and how there is that one song that you hear even years later and it reminds you of that one moment you shared with someone you loved were infatuated with. Here are my picks.

Carl-“Black”, Pearl Jam
Carl. Omg that’s a name I haven’t written down in ages-not since ALL of my notebooks and binders had it scribbled all over as  “Mrs. Carl Z” and “HLG loves CDZ”. He was my first crush, and it was intense and crazy. It lasted two years-from grade 6 to grade 8. I was an ugly duckling during those years and Carl was…well looking back, Carl wasn’t a prize or anything, but he was my WORLD. The three hours a week we spent together in our bowling league (I’ve always been a dork) were what I looked forward to more than anything else. If I couldn’t go or he wasn’t there, it was a BIG FUCKING DEAL (as pretty much everything was with me when I was a pre-teen, to be honest).
 

One day he and I sat in the back of his friend’s car alone and the radio was on. “Black” came on the radio, and since we were both huge Pearl Jam fans, we just sat there in silence listening to the song. If those five minutes could have lasted forever…

Jason-“Something I can Never Have”, Nine Inch Nails
Jason was one of my first boyfriends, and I worshipped the ground he walked on. He was prettier than me-he had long sandy blonde hair and always carried a brush in his black pocket. He was the original emo. He painted his nails black and when I would ask him “how are you?” he would tell me “I’m content”.

Taking a picture of a picture sucks ass, but here is Jason and I circa 1994.

He was the one that really got me into Nine Inch Nails (and early Marilyn Manson). I mean anything he said or liked was pretty much his lips to God’s ears. One day he wrote me a note-in the center of it was a heart drawn in black ink and filled in so roughly that the ink bled through to the other side. All that was written was “you make this all go away”. I still have the note.

Ryan the First-“Don’t Fade on Me”, Tom Petty
Ryan. He was my guy. He was the one I gave my precious flower to (lol). He was a bass God. He was so musically inclined. All I wanted from him when we were together were hugs, kisses, and amazing words, but instead he would pick up a guitar and play what he was feeling inside (come on, I was 14-of  COURSE I thought that!). For some reason a lot of my memories with Ryan draw a blank, but this song doesn’t, even though I literally haven’t heard it in fifteen years. We would lay in his waterbed in the dark, and he would put this song on and we would just hold each other. Ryan found me on Facebook a few weeks ago and my heart almost jumped out of my chest from the giddiness. That’s normal though, right?

 

Ryan the Second-“Lightning Crashes”, Live and “The Background”, Third Eye Blind (tie)
Ryan the second was who I consider being my first true love. We had a kid together. But before that, we were just two kids who LOVED music. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be listening to a lot of the music I do to this day-Tool, Metallica (old stuff!), The Misfits, and many others. He would sing his ass off and I would do back up vocals on long drives. It was a blast, and our musical moments are my favorite memories I have of him.

On April 19, 1996, he asked me to go out with him (serious-when was the last time someone asked you, “will you go out with me?” I miss that!), and at that very moment “Lightning Crashes” was playing on the CD player. I told him “yes, as long as this becomes our song”. It was so. To this day I can’t listen to that song, even though the album “Throwing Copper” is spectacular. Too many emotions.

I added this video and tried to listen to it. Started to cry.

Ryan and I broke up for six months, and when we got back together he played “The Background” for me because he said it reminded him of our relationship and how much he missed me during our break. I can’t listen to the lyrics and not think of him.

”The plans I make still have you in them…”

 

Robb-Gregory Page, “Fare Thee Well”
During Ryan the second and I’s break, I met Robb a.k.a “The one that got away”. He was unlike anyone I had ever met before. He was a laid back 20 year old, whereas I was a crazy 17 year old drama queen (ha! Some things never change). He liked all this underground music that I had never even heard of. He worked in a coffee shop. He was the coolest thing since sliced bread to me. He could have very well been the inspiration for “Hipster Kitty”:

We ended up only dating for three months, but I still remember him and the time together as just freaking awesome. Last year he randomly popped in my head, and I was trying to remember one of the songs he played for me by a local artist, Gregory Page. I ended up e-mailing Gregory Page himself and practically telling him my life story. He wrote back, and sent me the .mp3 for “Fare Thee Well”. I was jazzed! Unfortunately he’s so underground I can’t find the link for the song. As for Robb, we haven’t caught up in years-I wish we did, because he was an amazing guy.

 

Angel-“Let’s Stay Together”, Al Green
Talk about a volatile relationship. We had some good times, but it was INTENSE. He was a talented musician (maybe they are my thing?), and loved, loved LOVED Smashing Pumpkins. When I thought about adding him on this list I contemplated using a Sigur Ros song, since he is the one that turned me on to them-I’m going to add the song anyway because it is literally magical:

If you don’t listen to any other song on this post, listen to this one. The whole way through.

But no! The one that gets me every time is “Let’s Stay Together”. One night in a hotel (sounds dirty) we were in the bathtub (even dirtier), and he sang the whole song to me. That’s the kind of memory that is like an indelible nugget that will stick in your brain until the day you die.

 

SS-“These Arms of Mine”, Joan Osborne

(He was expecting this one, I’m sure of it-it’s a close second.)

I have never had a longing for someone more than I had for SS (yes, long complicated story-he is my best friend, but he was also the object of my affection for a long time). He played Joan Osborne’s cover of Otis Redding’s “These Arms of Mine” for me and it blew me away. Her soul is in her voice on that song. I felt what she was feeling, and I transferred it to what I was feeling for SS. I can’t find a damn link for it, but if you like that song originally, go download it by her and you will probably be like, (Keanu Reeves’ voice) “WHOA”.

 

J-“If You’re Not the One”, Daniel Bedingfield
When we started dating, our song was “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol. One day I was working and “If You’re Not the One” came on the overhead speakers. I ran into the lobby and started listening to it with one of the hostesses and literally started to cry in the middle of my work (I’m a crier, what can I say?). I called J later that night (he was still in Australia waiting for his visa) and told him this was it. This was our song. This is what I was walking the aisle down to.

And I did.

I don’t know why you’re so far away
But I know this much is true
We’ll make it through and I hope
You are the one I share my life with

And I wish that you could be the one I die with
And I pray that you’re the one I build my home with
I hope I love you all my life.


I want to know about your songs now. What songs give you pangs in your belly? Why?

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Saturday, March 26, 2011

This is how it goes.

I wanted to be this guy tonight.

Instead, I am this guy-with tears attached.

I’ll start from the beginning.

Two weeks ago, I was invited to see “Sucker Punch” and have dinner from a friend of one of my best friends, The Owl. I automatically think to decline, since that is a social event and I can no longer do social events due to anxiety. A few days ago, my best friend SS says he and The Owl may be coming up from where they live (which is an hour away) to come to the dinner/movie and they want me to go. I say I’ll go if SS goes. He tells me he’ll let me know either way.

This morning I get a text saying “we’re going to collect you between 4:30 and 5:00”. I immediately tense up and text him back, “ACK I don’t know if I want to go…ever since you said you were coming up my stomach has been in knots being around all those people”.

Here’s the thing, people: when I have to leave the house I set up in my mind a million of the worst-case scenarios. At dinner, what if they ask me what I’ve been up to? What if everyone looks at me? What if I don’t know some of the people that are coming? What if I’m the fattest one there and I have to EAT in front of strangers? The thought of these things make me break out in a cold sweat.

SS texts me later that the others are ordering a pizza and it’s just the three of us for dinner. That’s great! I think to myself. I don’t have to eat in front of strangers, and when I do have to be around people it will be in a dark theater. No questions, no looks, just the movie and then we leave! I can do that! I agree to go.

As I’m getting ready, I get a text from The Owl saying “after we eat we may go to K’s for a minute. Is that okay?” Now I’m stressing again. I have to go to someone’s house? With their family there? I text back, “if you guys have a bunch of things to do then just go”. He doesn’t understand what I mean, so he calls me. I explain that the plans are changing on me and I’m nervous enough as it is. I start to cry because everything is becoming a BIG FUCKING DEAL in my head. My mom offers me half a Valium because she really wants me to get out of the house and socialize, and I accept it. Twenty minutes later the Valium kicks in as the guys come to pick me up.

Dinner was kick-ass. Fun and laughs and great seafood. A couple of hours later we head across the street to the movie theater and buy our tickets. We come across a girl I recognize from The Owl’s group of friends. She has four other girls with her I don’t know-already a red flag in my mind because girls essentially are judgmental assholes (myself included). I’m starting to get nervous and start fidgeting with my jacket. She tells The Owl that she didn’t know I would be coming and that they don’t have enough seats in their row. Now I’m breathing heavy. I’m a burden. I’m a pain and they have to change what they are doing to accommodate me! I tell The Owl it’s fine, I’ll sit in another row, it’s no problem. As we get up to their row, I grab the first chair closest to the aisle-nearly ten seats farther from where the rest of the group is sitting. SS tells me to get up, that we need to head to the other side of the row. When we get to that side, I again grab the first chair closest to the aisle.

When the movie was over (it was okay FYI-total chick flick disguised as an action movie), everyone stays in their seat. I ask SS to come with me into the lobby and we head out of the theater. A few minutes later, everyone else heads into the lobby. Not one person stopped to talk to me or introduce themselves. They just kept walking. Even The Owl. Now, you would think this would be A-OK with me since I don’t have to interact with anyone, but now I am freaking out. Do they know something is wrong with me? Is it because I’m fat and ugly? Did The Owl tell them not to approach me??? SS and I followed behind them outside into the parking lot.

I hear from up ahead that they are going to the coffee shop. At this point I am just trying to control my shaking and breathing. I tell SS, I think I’m going to throw up, please stop. He tries to tell me everything is fine but I’m not hearing it. I just want to get to his car. I want to get away from everyone. After finding the car I get in, shut the door, and hot tears stream down my face.

The entire drive to my house I don’t say a word. My body hurts from being so tense, and I’m trying (and failing) to hold in my tears (SS is not the best of comforters). Don’t go out again, Hed, I tell myself. This is what happens. You failed. You can’t interact with people anymore. You are a failure. WHY ARE YOU EVEN TRYING?

I get home, take the other half of Valium and head to my computer. I figure I can explain to you my thought process and the anatomy of a panic attack if the thoughts and feelings are still fresh in my mind.

I don’t want your good thoughts and hugs tonight, will all due respect to my lovely and awesome readers. I pretty much feel hopeless-which sucks ass because I have had about four “good” days in a row. I feel back to square one. Again.

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Thursday, March 24, 2011

I hate anal!

Um…well…the title is a little misleading. I’m here to talk about my stupid obsessive compulsive behaviors. The other thing  is an entirely different blog…

If you walked into my room, you would see piles. Lots and lots of piles. On the surface it just looks like I’m a slob, which I totally admit I am. But there is a madness to my methods. The pile of clothes that is just lying around is because when I go to hang them up, they need to be facing a certain direction, and they need to be placed in a certain order in my closet-short sleeve, collared, long sleeved, etc. Same with the clothes in my drawers-they all have a place. Mail and notes also need to be put in a certain place, so before I do that they all go into a big heap until I have time (and energy) to sort them out and put them where they need to go.

My computer is off-limits to everyone but me unless it’s something quick. I need everything in its right place, named correctly in its right folder. Unused programs? Forget about it. I spent about three days tweaking my laptop to how I wanted it before I even actually used  it. If I add a new program that integrates with another, everything has to be right or I can’t use the program. For example, in Picasa your photos get sorted into chronological order and also by name (it has a “face matching” feature). Guess who spent HOURS tagging the pictures and making sure they were dated correctly when I started the program for the first time? Guess who hasn’t used the program yet? I took more time fidoodling it than I did using it!

Organizing work projects is a disaster. I will plan ahead what needs to be done, but I get sidetracked every damn time by mini-projects that can be added to the original one. For example, I needed to make labels for the freezer at my restaurant job. Once I got going I realized I should add shelf lives to the labels. So I had to go print out the shelf life guide. While I was there I printed out the recipe guides so I could rearrange the foods in order of how they are used. While rearranging, some of the shelves were dirty so I left to get the cleaner. When I got to the cleaning products they were all messy and half-used so I combined the half-bottles to make full bottles. Then I was called to the front for something. Needless to say someone else ended up labeling the freezer.

I’m like the husband in “Sleeping With the Enemy” without the crazy…okay, who am I kidding?

Homework is just as bad. I get all anxious that if I miss a certain sentence in my notes that will be the one fact I don’t have when doing a test, and I end up pretty much transcribing the entire chapter to my notes. Today I did three pages of homework. Three. It took me two hours.

But there is nothing more obsessive, nothing more time consuming and more detail-orienting than my IPod.

I will use any excuse to put Paul Frank on my blogs!

Anyone who has an IPod kind of knows how it works: you add music from your computer from ITunes, and BAM it goes on your IPod. No. Not mine. That would be far too easy!

You see, sometimes the “Artist” tab will say “30 Seconds To Mars” instead of “30 Seconds to Mars” and the IPod notices it and makes two different bands. One Nine Inch Nails song will have the genre of “Industrial” while another will have “Hard Rock” and it will split up all my NIN songs into different genres. Sometimes one song on an album will be “track 2 of 8” while another will say “track 4 of 9”. Sometimes the album covers will be different even though it’s the same album.

Because of this, I have only gotten up to the “F” artists on my IPod. I rarely even use the damn thing because only 1/4 of my songs are even on there! Yet to just copy and paste all my songs over and throw caution to the wind breaks me out in a cold sweat. There’s just no way!

Am I the only crazy one out there that does this? I mean, is there something that you HAVE to do in a certain way or you freak out? I don’t really bring up OCD stuff to my therapist since there is SO MANY MORE pressing issues. I mean, this I can somewhat manage even though it sucks up so much time!

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Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Hedalicious.

My husband’s grandfather passed away this morning. He’s sad, I’m sad, everyone is sad. It’s compounded because I can only comfort him over the phone and it sucks.

Because of this, I decided to post something I wrote a few years ago for him. I’m hoping it will cheer him up or make him laugh, if only for a little while today. J and I have a thing where we are always making up random lyrics to songs and we crack each other up with them. I was listening to “Fergalicious” one day (I HATE FERGIE by the way), and I decided to pepper it up and make it all about ME! You just gotta love self-depreciating humor…

(PS if you’ve never heard the song or forgotten how it goes, I added the video so you can read along my lyrics over the beat)

(And PPS this shit is COPYWRITTEN! Stay away, Weird Al!)

J, if you are reading this, I love you and your family, and I am so sorry I can’t be with you all today.

“Hedalicious”

Listen up ya'll, Cuz this is it
The food that I'm eatin' is de-li-cious

Hedalicious definition make that food get eaten
You want to have a taste but its my whole box of Wheat Thins
You can see me, you can't squeeze me
I am hungry, I got money
I ain't grubby, I'm just pudgy
Got more chocolate than the Easter Bunny

Hedalicious
I'll eat drumsticks, wings and thighs
Quarter Pounder and some fries
And a slice of Apple Pie
Hershey's kisses (yum yum)
I put that food on a plate, plate
And I ain't watchin my weight cuz all that food tastes GREAT!

So delicious (It's yum yum)
So delicious (All them boys say "gimme some!")
So delicious (does anybody have some Tums?)
Hedalicious (t-t-t-t-t-tasty, tasty)

Hedalicious def-, Hedalicious def-, Hedalicious def-
Hedalicious definition I will eat whatever
In my dreams Keebler Elves
Comin' to me call me Fattie
I'm the F to the A-T-T-the-I-E
And can't no other lady eat my chocolate brownies

I'm Hedalicious
My body's far from lean
I be up in a jam just scarfing down ice cream
He's my witness (oooh wee)
I put that food on a plate, plate
And I ain't watchin my weight cuz all that food tastes GREAT!

So delicious (It's yum yum)
So delicious (All them boys say "gimme some!")
So delicious (does anybody have some Tums?)
Hedalicious (hold hold hold hold hold up, check it out)

Baby, baby, baby
If you really want the truth
The only Baby I want is a baby, Baby Ruth
Its so tasty, tasty, mmm I want a pastry!
It's so tasty, tasty, It'll make you crazy

T to the A to the S T E Y girl its tasty, T to the A to the S T E Y girl its tasty
D to the E to the L I C I O U S, to the D to the E to the, to the, to the, hit it Fattie!

All the time I turn around a Starbucks opens up always tempting me with goodies and a macchiato cup
I just wanna say it now I ain't tryin to be a cow I just want a nibble of that juicy tasty stuff
And I know I'm comin off like a bit of a fattie and I keep on repeating I want a Peppermint Patty
But I'm tryin' to say, that I can't be bothered with Jenny Craig
Cuz' they say its

Delicious (So delicious)
I'll eat drumsticks, wings and thighs
Quarter Pounder and some fries
And a slice of Apple Pie
Hershey's kisses (yum yum)
I put that food on a plate, plate
And I ain't watchin my weight cuz all that food tastes GREAT!
Four, tres, two, uno

So delicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
So delicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
So delicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
I'm Hedalicious, t-t-t-t-t tasty, tasty

T to the A to the S T E Y girl its tasty, T to the A, to the S T E Y girl its tasty
T to the A to the S T E Y girl its tasty, T to the A, to the, to the (four, tres, two, uno)
D to the E to the L I C I O U S, to the D to the E to the L I C I O U S to the
D to the E to the L I C I O U S, to the D to the E to the, to the, to the...

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Monday, March 21, 2011

A re-introduction.

I have 90 readers. Holy crap I have 90 people that actually clicked the “follow” button. I have an urge to pull a Sally Field and say “YOU LIKE ME, YOU REALLY LIKE ME!!!!” Okay, I feel better now.

AWWWWWW YEAHHHHHHHH!

So I know a lot of you have been here since the beginning, and some of you just recently popped in and apparently like what I have to say. I decided since I have an influx of new faces and names, I would give you a quick rundown on this blog and why I do what I do (oh and FYI you can click on the “what you should know about me” tab for some more nuggets of information).

I first started to write last May. I was dealing with my first ever bout of social anxiety, and in my sixth month of a severe depressive episode-the longest one I had ever experienced with my 15 year battle with bipolar disorder. My blog was called “Musings of a Bipolar Girl” and I created it for me and only me. Sometimes I would send out my blogs to friends and family because I thought maybe it would help with what I was dealing with, or that they would be able to see through my eyes. I had  8 readers, and 75% of them were already my friends and family.

In June my husband and I decided to pack up and move from California back to his home of Queensland, Australia, and just before we moved I started up a new blog called “Hed Down Under” (which is still up-just not updated- if you would like to read about my life in Oz). The blog was mainly meant to be an expat blog, and I kept my bipolar blog for when I was having bad days. After a while, it felt kind of odd to write all the “good” things on my Australia blog and all the “bad” things on my bipolar blog. It was like I was telling my 37 readers hey! Look how cool and fun I am! and writing privately I hate this place. I miss my family. I don’t want to be here. So before I came back to the States (that’s a whole other blog post), I combined the two, and here we are.

Currently I am still depressed. Severely. I have good days and I have bad weeks. When I have the really low points I try to write them out. I realized from my first blog that if I wrote when I hurt, it was like the pain I felt eased with every letter I typed out. I stopped trying (I really did!) to care as much if my readers would be like “oh, Hed’s having a bad day, sigh”. I try really freaking hard not to post all the emo junk on here 100% of the time because then this blog would just be a big ole bring down. Seriously, my number one Google search term is “unicorn pooping rainbows”. That’s how spectacular this blog is!

I also started writing to hopefully get out what some people cannot inside themselves. I searched and searched for writers who showed some resemblance to how I was feeling, to no avail. I never got that oh my God, somebody gets it feeling. As I wrote and got more involved in the blog community, I was able to talk to people that were a lot like me in their struggle with mental illness, and I also have had people comment who are grateful that I bare my soul. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside-but even if I had no readers, I would still write for me.

As for what makes me tick, I’m a dork. I have 23 tattoos (okay seven). I play video games and religiously watch Grey’s Anatomy, House, The Soup and The Simpsons. I want to make babies with Jared Leto, Trent Reznor and Tim McIlrath (all at the same time?) I have a serious addiction to Paul Frank anything, and I just got hooked on the Words with Friends app (seriously e-mail me and I will give you my user name so we can play!). I’m taking a pharmacy tech course after years and years of management. I’m in weekly therapy. I’m currently un-medicated. My husband is still in Australia and no, we are not divorcing (another long blog post one day)!

In closing, I just wanted to thank you guys for taking the time out of your lives to read about mine. I hope I have connected with some of you, because I know your blogs have really inspired and influenced me.

PS-Kage sort of half-dared me to post a naughty picture I showed her. I will when I hit 100 readers, okay?

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Saturday, March 19, 2011

Thoughts.

It’s after 4am. It’s Day 5 for me not being able to turn my brain off at night.  The half a Valium my mom gave me a while ago is starting to help, but I’m still lying in bed wide awake,  staring at the wall. I got a thought in my head I wanted to share before I lose it in the fog of drowsy blankness.

When I speak, my words are like air. They disappear as soon as they are spoken and float away like they never existed. Lately whenever I open my mouth to talk one of two things go along with it: tears or humiliation. Tears because I hurt all the time and when I do have the energy to talk and the words to say things, it hurts so much to get it out. It’s like my voice box is connected to my tear ducts. Humiliation because when I open my mouth when I have to talk to strangers it’s nothing but flustered, awkward mutterings like I’m some crazy lady with eighteen cats.

So I write. I text my friends to let them know I’m still around. I e-mail my family happy birthdays and congratulations because I don’t have the strength to say anything more out loud. I blog because when I hurt, my words become cement. I can look back and reflect on them when I’m really happy (one day) to see if I can find what maybe triggered me to write those words in the first place and learn from them. I can read them when I’m feeling awful and know that one time, I had a good day. Remember that day Hed? It’s not always this bad, I can tell myself.

My memory has been failing me since this depression cloud shit all over my life. If I didn’t document it all I would be doomed to repeat certain cycles that I don’t want in my life anymore. So I write.

It’s all I have at the moment. I write.

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Thursday, March 17, 2011

Ten years of greatness.

(I figured my best friend would get a kick out of me calling him “greatness”. You only get one, SS. You only get one.)

Ten years ago today, I was moving into my very first apartment with my then-glimmer of hope boyfriend (the term “fiancé” could be used loosely). It was a studio near UCR, and it was amazing and perfect because it was ours. That night a girl knocked on our door and introduced herself and her boyfriend and told us they were our next door neighbors. They were only a year older than us, and she was really cool and smart so I thought hey! A new friend! The two guys waxed poetically about video games, so it seemed a perfect fit for all of us.

A month or so later we were invited by them to go to Friday’s for some drinks and food with a group of her friends. All I remember about the night was wow. Just wow. I understand that her and her friends were in University, but they seemed so pretentious and were drinking specialty cocktails (AT FRIDAYS!) and talking about things that I honestly just couldn’t grasp. Maybe this girl wasn’t the right fit for me, after all.

Yeah, pretty much the dialogue that night.

One night a bit later my guy neighbor knocked on my door looking for my bf. I told him he was at work but would be home really soon. He went to leave, but I made him stay, and we started talking.

The rest, they say, is history.

After that SS and I became the buddies. So much so that, after a while, it was no longer double dates-it was me and him (shortly after the Friday’s incident he and his girlfriend had broken up anyway). My own boyfriend was hurt that SS chose my company over his, but I knew the real reason-SS thought bf was a total dud. And as much as it may sound like he had an agenda, he didn’t. SS was so blunt it shocked me. Not in a dick way (okay, wait-in a totally dick way-he’s an arrogant asshole that you seriously need to know to love), but in a way so painfully honest I had never come across before. He was against me marrying bf because we were “running on love and not reality”. I thought he was crazy and jaded. Instead of pointing out things I should have seen as completely obvious, he would ask questions to get ME to think about the answer instead of just giving it to me.

In other words: he helped me dodge a GIANT bullet. After bf and I split in early 2004 he ended up going to jail three times and is now addicted to opiates and living on his grandmother’s couch.

SS was the first person to buy me a “legal” drink on my 21st birthday-as you can see I was pretty shitfaced…

 

Once bf and I split, SS and I were inseparable. The entire year before bf and I broke up, I was jobless and in bed from stress and depression. As soon as I moved on from bf, it was like my eyes had opened and a weight had lifted. I had applied for a job in cosmetics and gotten it. A few months later there was a position open for a counter manager at Nordstrom's-my DREAM JOB at the time-and if it wasn’t for him I would have never applied.

I didn’t think I had enough experience and I also thought that my paltry job experience (Hollywood video, a bowling alley, Thrifty) wasn’t going to be good enough for a prestigious place like Nordstrom’s. I knew in my heart I could do it, but I didn’t have the courage to try. SS used his trademark logic on me (essentially the “you’ll never know unless you try” and “what would be the harm in trying?”, but more pointed), and I called and asked about the position. The department manager liked my enthusiasm so much over the phone she scheduled an interview-and I was offered the job! On top of THAT, when I went to resign from the job I currently had, they offered ME the counter manager position and MATCHED was Nordstrom was going to pay me!

They say kissing trolls is good luck! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA :)

The thing is, SS was the only person I have ever met in my entire life that told it like it was. I had always had people who would say “yes!” when you asked them “does this dress make my ass look fat?”. The first year of his brand of honesty was hell. I would cry and throw tantrums, and he would just stare at me like “really?” Once I realized that my prima donna shit was not going to fly around him, I discovered something that I never had before: self-awareness.

I realized not everything was everyone else’s fault. I realized that there was more to life than Brangelina and make-up. I started developing well-rounded thoughts and opinions instead of just listening to conversations. The more I became aware of my strengths and limitations, the more I was able to achieve. I moved out on my own in a foreign city. I pushed for promotions at work. I cared about the outside world and what was going on inside it.

BLIZZCON ‘07!!!

 

He taught me how to fish and kickbox and play MMO’s. We went to dinner all the time and always had something to talk about. He introduced me to his best friend and I gained someone else that I have nothing but pure love for: The Owl.

And if you were wondering, yes, we briefly dated. It lasted two months and it was a disaster. We are so much better off friends. Although I can tell you that even though we have had our share of ups and downs in these ten years, there is one thing I still want to kick his ass for-missing my wedding.

After I started dating J, SS and I stopped talking. As much as he will NEVER admit this, I think it was a mixture of jealousy and that I was making the wrong decision because J was essentially a stranger on another continent. This was one-sided, as I had no intention of letting him out of my life. And I made it clear every time I called him to shoot the shit that I would continue to call him like a crazy stalker bitch until he realized the error of his ways and we were BFF’s again. It was pretty much EXACTLY like this when we spoke (he’s Will Ferrell in this situation, obviously):

After SS realized J and I were a done deal, all became right with the world again. SS thinks J’s a swell guy, and J tries to understand all of our private jokes and arguments when we all hung out together. SS is still one of my biggest supporters. He’s the one that pushes me to go to therapy and STICK WITH IT. He’s the one that looks into new and exciting treatments. He’s the one that keeps me on my toes when it comes to food and the abuse of it. Ours is a funny, demented and awesome relationship, and one I will always be grateful for and treasure.

Thank you SS for fighting the good fight alongside me for ten years and never giving up on me. I love you to pieces, friend <3

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Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Nerd love at its finest.

I hate writing about a certain topic.

A topic about a part of my life that has been in heavy rotation for the past six years.

And that topic is World of Warcraft *blushes*

I am going to write this as if you, the reader, is a total nerd too-so bear with me.

I’ve been playing WoW since open beta in late 2004. My best friend was obsessed with the game, and one day he said “do you want to make a character?” At this point I loved The Sims, so I thought it would be fun to make a toon. I think I made a warlock (no, not Charlie Sheen). I logged on and asked him, “what do I do?” He said, “just use your wand and shoot things”. And I was hooked.

When the game came out we drove to Fry’s in Fountain Valley where the game developers were signing the games, and we waited to get ours signed until 4am. In the middle of November. We installed it and finally fell asleep around 7am that morning. On my days off I would play. When I got home I would play. I would decline invites from my cosmetic counter girls (where I worked) to go drinking because I wanted to be at my best friend’s house talking to my virtual friends. One of these friends ended up being a great guy and I got to visit Melbourne, Australia in 2005-and fell in love with the city and all things Australian.

My best friend changed servers and I went with him. At first I hated it because it was PvP and I was used to PvE, but eventually I got used to it. I started a priest named “Sanctified” (note-all of my WoW characters are named after Nine Inch Nails, Tool, or A Perfect Circle songs). Around level 40 I grouped with a really nice guy who happened to be in an Australian guild. I asked if I could join and I got an invite June 23, 2005 (I only know the date because the guild forums notes when you joined).

Everyone in the guild was awesome and helpful. They joked with me on being the only “yank” in the guild. I was able to talk to Australian boys through my headphones, which was pretty much heaven back then. There were a couple of core members who I was always able shoot the shit with. One of those guildies was a night elf hunter named Karis.

He was always super friendly and making silly happy face emotes like ^_^. If I ever needed help in-game he always seemed to take the time out and help (it also didn’t hurt that I was a RL girl). I found this screenshot of us from October 25, 2005. I’m in the ogre suit.

 

For a while I joined a “hard-core” guild and Karis left WoW completely. I gave him my msn info-which was rare, because I really dislike chatting online-so we could keep in touch. I found a private message between us from September 23, 2006 with a picture of him:

I admit, I giggled a little at this scrawny, goofy 21-year-old boy when I saw it, but his face totally matched his personality. He was always happy and upbeat, and I enjoyed talking to him when I had the chance.

The very next year I was jobless and home a lot, and when I would pop on the Internet Karis (I always called him “Karis”, he always called me “Sanc”-that’s how we knew each other) would sometimes be on msn and he and I would cordially chat for a bit. I mentioned I was having a rough few weeks, what with me losing my job and my grandpa at the time was having health woes. A month or two later I popped on msn again, and Karis said hi and asked how my grandpa was doing. I thought it was really decent of him to be concerned-and to have actually remembered such a short conversation we had months before. I was in a much better place by that point, and I found myself talking to him more and more.

One day I purchased a new cell phone, and I was venting to him about not being able to set it up properly. About fifteen minutes later he asked me to get on my headphones, and when I did he started walking me through the steps on how to get the phone to work right. He had researched the phone online while we had been talking! At that point I told him something like, “you know, if you were over here, I would so date you”, and he told me he felt the same way.

Time went by, and we finally met face to face in March 2008. It was like I had known him forever. There was no awkwardness, no nervousness. It was just us.

Nine months later Karis and Sanc married. We just passed three years together.

I’m actually tearing up looking at this.

_____________________________________________________

This blog was brought to you in part by Studio Thirty+-the writing prompt this week was “serendipity”. I tend to take all things literal so I wanted to share with you the story of how J and I met. I can’t think of a better example then this.

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Tuesday, March 15, 2011

This. Is. Unacceptable.

I usually don’t put my angry hat on. I’m more the sad or happy hat person, and when I am angry I usually vent internally or say a blurb about it on my Facebook or to my friends and move on. But I am really, really angry.

I think for every country there is a stereotype about what people are like. For example, a bunch of people would always ask J if he rode a kangaroo to work or ate shrimp on the barbie because he is Australian. Before J lived in America he thought we all owned guns and freely carried them at all times. Last weekend J told me he read in the paper about how some Americans were posting on social media sites that the Japan earthquake/tsunami was “payback” for Pearl Harbor. I vented to him that I was angry that a reporter would latch on to one or two people that were obviously so stupid and ignorant and give the rest of us “level-headed” Americans a bad rap. After that, I was fine.

Yep. Pretty much fits the stereotype to a T, don’t you think?

Yesterday an American friend posted a link of a compilation of Facebook posts that were so, so ugly it physically made me sick. You can click on the link to read them yourself, but some gems include:

“It’s been almost a full day of tsunami coverage. Time to move on. At first I  really did kinda feel bad for Japan, but then I Googled “Pearl Harbor death toll”. There. All better.”

“Funny how when we have an earthquake we are fine, but the Japanizes (sic) have an earthquake they have a tag alone (sic) with Mister tsunami! Karma is all I gotta say, I don’t care if Pearl Harbor was 70 years ago! Suckers”

“Does anyone else feel like Japan had it coming??? They did bomb the shit out of us at Pearl Harbor. I mean they really did have that coming they say what comes around goes around. But I still be praying for them cause its better to forgive and forget than never to forgive at all…”

And the ones that piss me off the most-the ones that actually throw God into the mix:

“Apparently God hasn’t forgot about Pearl Harbor either…”

“Hell yeah that’s right Japan 3-1 you may have had Pearl Harbor but we got Hiroshima, Nagasaki and, since God is on our side, we have this”

Give me a moment.

 

 

First of all, who raised these people to spew so much hate? Who raised these ignorant sons of bitches (and bitches) to feel happiness in other people’s tragedies? Who taught these people? I’m assuming they didn’t read the entire chapter on World War II in their history books because yeah, they bombed Pearl Harbor-war is hell-but we got them back. With a vengeance. We literally DECIMATED their cities. They killed 2,400 of our citizens on that day, and we dropped two bombs on them and killed over 200,000. We became xenophobic (look it up) in our society and rounded up over 10,000 Japanese people just for being Japanese and transferred them to internment camps (the same kind of camps the Nazis used on Jews during WWII [EDIT: I mean the camps themselves, not that we treated them the same way-thanks Chief for clarifying my words!]). Even after all the carnage and war, that became water under the bridge because we made peace and Japan is one of our strongest allies.

And about God. I don’t know the…guy?…but I do know FOR A FACT (okay, not really, but pretty damn sure) that God does NOT have a freaking nationality. Really? God is American, idiots? Really? It makes me angry to think that someone actually thinks that “God is on our side” and doesn’t care about anyone or anywhere else in the world. What about 9-11? Hurricane Katrina? The Oklahoma City bombings? Whose side was he on that day? I’m not here to argue religion by any means, but it chaps my ass more than you can imagine when people are brought up to think that America is the “holy nation” and every other country are heathens.

Lastly, I strongly support free speech. I may not like what you have to say but I do believe in your right to say it. Sigh. That’s not really why I’m the angriest. I’m the angriest because of people’s ignorance. I’m angriest at people’s hate. I’m angriest at people’s lack of compassion. I’m angry at people’s sectarianism. How mad do we get when we see another country burning an American flag and cheering? Or when we hear from foreigners that Americans are “stupid” and “lazy”. I know I get perturbed, only because of the lack of respect and knowledge…some Americans get outraged and complain that we shouldn’t associate with certain countries-THEN we (not you and I–I mean we as the stupid handful of Americans) go and say things like this. We should rise above and help out our fellow man, no matter if they are yellow, brown, black, or green.

*End venting*

So to all my fellow readers today, I apologize for the angry hat. I’m sorry if you disagree or happen to be one of the people I just called an idiot because you truly believe this is “payback” (Jeebs, I hope not-you are all smart, wise people. And did I tell you how nice your hair looks today?). I just couldn’t keep it in. It was just too much.

My American heart goes out to Japan.

And so does Julius’ <3

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