Five Random Things

My brain isn't working properly. Too much on it. Last night it started thinking right when I was going to bed. Just clicked in and the wheels were turning. Now, my eyes are tired. Not enough sleep, I think.

So, I'm coping out on a thoughtful post and just going to write five truths about life as I see it today.

1. Money is the biggest stress ever. The amount of people brooding over their finances is staggering. This world is so consumer driven and designed to keep us in debt and unhappy. We all hope to win the lottery, but the chances of that are so slim. It's sad, isn't it? Being so preoccupied with money, letting it control our lives, when we really can't take it with us. All these things, our homes, our cars, televisions, clothes, toys, none of it is coming with us when we leave this place. So, why not let it go in advance?

I am thinking about doing some spring cleaning this weekend. It's going to be like the movie The Purge, but instead of committing crimes and getting rid of people who annoy me, I'm going to be downsizing my book collection and donating clothes I don't wear.

2. Life isn't easy. It's hard and defeating. Things are constantly up in the air. Even if you are happy enough and working your hardest, there are bumps in the road. Trials. Pains. Heartaches. And sometimes it feels like it's just too much to handle, you know? Like you're just waiting for the good parts and they never really come. Everyone I know has gone through it. The what is this all about feeling is a hard one to shake. Sometimes I'd love to say we are all here for a purpose, but that's just wishful thinking. Maybe this is all a mistake.

I think I'm taking things too seriously.

3. Pets make things easier. Oliver is sitting on my right side here. He's sleeping. But even in the toughest of times, he can pull a smile from me. I'm glad I have these boys. They remind me there are great things, even when it seems like there aren't. Wet noses, soft ears, and cuddles when you need them the most. It's nice to be needed. Wanted. Sometimes I think this is what people with children feel like about their kids. Like they are a reason to keep on keeping on.

My dogs are my children. Thank God they don't speak English. Oliver is already mouthy enough as it is.

4. The best way to stay healthy and happy is to maintain a positive outlook on life. This is easier said than done. It's hard to constantly keep your chin up, especially when you feel as though you are floundering. Everything will be okay is a lovely way to think, but believing it is another matter altogether. We know other people have it worse. We know life isn't all that bad. But when you're down, you're down. And sometimes it's hard pulling yourself up the mountain again when it feels like you just trudged up the bloody thing not that long ago.

Don't worry, I am not thinking about becoming a motivational speaker.

5. Writing distracts me from life. This is probably why I love it so much.

We all need distractions sometimes. Or to stay focused. I'm not too sure which right now.

Worry Wart

It's easy to say, don't worry about that, you can't change it anyway. But it's harder to execute such common sense thinking. After all, if we had the ability simply to turn it off and shut it own, wouldn't we all opt to do that? For the most part, we worry. Whether it's about money, our homes, jobs, children or partners, we are worrying. Is this going to work out? How are we going to get through this? Will prostitution be involved?

These are the thoughts going through our heads on a daily basis. Well, maybe not the prostitution one. We don't want to become a walking advertisement for STIs. It's still hard for me to adapt from calling them diseases to infections. 

That being said, I have a really difficult time spelling diseases without the help of the intersnacks. 

Now, back to worrying. 

While I certainly was kept awake last night due to financial concerns, this isn't a regular occurrence. Granted, money is pretty much the biggest worry in my life, but I am hoping that comes to the end when I sell my condo. I blame this all on my Realtor. She just told me that it is the 'slowest spring she's ever seen'. Like, how encouraging, right? So, if you know anyone looking to purchase some real estate in the suburbs of Greater Vancouver. Please, let me know. 

If you don't, I seriously appreciate your cares and concerns, but this will pass. It always does. Things will, eventually, work out. I just can't be sure when and I am worried about where I will end up if I have to shell out both mortgage and rent money. It's a realistic worry. A matter of fact one. And one so many people face on a daily basis. My troubles aren't unique to me. 

As for the lack of sleep, don't worry your pretty heads about it. I was, literally, an insomniac for five years, sleeping no more than 3-5 hours a night, and that all worked out okay in the end. I wrote some amazing novels. I use the term amazing loosely. Besides, even when I am not worrying about dollar dollar bills y'all, I'm kept up by grand ideas for books I will never get to write. So, not much sleep either way. 

Onward and upward, positive vibes and good thoughts.  

And please stop dreaming about me so I can sleep. 

Please Tip Your Waitress

I'm a good tipper. Whenever I go out for food or drinks, I always ensure to leave a little something extra behind. Fifteen percent seemed to be the precident for a long time, but I've been noticing eighteen percent cropping up on a few debit terminals lately. Eighteen percent? Really? Some places just tack it right onto your bill, which I find kind of presumptuous. 

Okay, I'm going to put this out there knowing it might get some backlash. I don't agree with mandatory tipping. I know, I'm a terrible person, but if you have crappy service then you shouldn't leave extra money behind. Why? Because you had crappy service. It's really all very simple. And for me, you really have to be a terrible service worker to NOT get a tip. I'm talking snorts of derision and eye rolls. So, if you haven't received a tip from me in the past, it's because you should be exploring other avenues of employment. 

The funny thing is, and I never really thought about until recently, but tipping extends beyond waitresses and waiters. Now that I work at a salon, I see most people tip their stylist. I am dating a tattoo artist, I see a lot of people tip their artist. Then I got to thinking, who else is being tipped? Delivery people because they lift things we don't want to, or at least arrive with hot, cheesy pizza in a timely manner. Bellhops (are they still called bellhops?) because they monitor your bags and ensure they don't get stolen. 

But where does it stop? Or, why does it stop? 

I certainly don't tip my doctor for a gynecological exam or my dentist for a root canal, even though both these people are helping to keep me in my most tiptop shape. Maybe these people make too much money? Or maybe it's just awkward trying to slip an orthodontist a fiver.  

Waiters and waitresses often tip out the kitchen from their gratuities. And tattoo artists frequently tip out their counter staff. So, in some ways, these make sense and can reasonably rationalized. Delivery men do grunt work. And Pizza boys get tips because they risk their lives driving from point A to point B so you don't have to. Maybe that's all this comes down to? We tip people for doing things we should be doing ourselves but just can't be arsed. 

Except, that really doesn't apply to tattoo artists! No one should be doing their own tattoos. Go to a clean, respectable shop and get a clean, respectable artist, with a clean respectable past, and a clean respectable portfolio to give you a clean, respectable tattoo. So you see a pattern, clean and respectable, people. And, while I never thought it prior to a year ago, most people shouldn't be doing their own hair either. 

When I was little, I remember my mother tipping when she used full service at the gas station. Full service is pretty much a thing of the past these days. At least up here in Canada, and more accurately, on Canada Island where I reside, I can't think of a place that even offers full service. Granted, when I drove down to San Francisco, I tried to pump my own gas when a very nice gentleman took the hose from my hand and told me that was his job. 

So, I guess it depends on where you're from. I did tip the man in Frisco who filled my tank, if you know what I mean. It's pretty clear, he took me from empty to all filled up. Made the little arrow rise. None of these sound even remotely appropriate to be writing in this post. 

Today, I tipped the person who changed my oil, air filter and serpentine belt. It felt good doing it, too. Because it wasn't expected. I'm grateful to have had a little extra cash to do so. Why did I tip her? Because she was cute, kind of looked like a gelfling, and is a woman in a male dominated industry. I also told her to split the tip with the guy helping her out, because I am not sexist. And you know what, she was super appreciative for the extra bones. It wasn't going to buy her a new house or Rolex watch, but it might get her a quick bite to eat when she made it to her lunch hour. 

And why not tip these oil change aficionados? I mean, they are at least ensuring my vehicle runs smoothly, letting me know if anything is on the verge of breaking and, possibly, killing me. They've kept me healthy and alive by ensuring my serpentine belt doesn't break while going 110 down the highway. Kilometres, not miles. Canada, remember? 

It makes me think that if anyone does a job well done, goes above and beyond, delivers great customer service, then we should tip them. Go ahead, tip someone who doesn't expect it, it feels kind of awesome. 

Well, I've talked myself into it. The next time I go to the doctor, I'm going to slip a ten in her lab coat pocket. 

For those of you unawares, this is a gelfling. 

Rent Dark Crystal and be prepared to have your mind blown. 

I'll Take Care Of You

For the most part, I don't mind playing the grown up. I don't mind taking care of the bills and being the one with good credit. Usually, I won't balk at making phone calls or getting groceries. I will spend my whole day off doing chores.

Lately, though, I want a break.

A step away.

For someone to take care of things for me.

Is that too much to ask for?

If I find myself with an extra couple hundred of dollars, I put that money on my debt. I don't splurge. I don't buy myself gifts. Not extravagant ones. Because I know what is needed and what is wanted.

And needs are important. Needs are what keep us sheltered, fed and clothed. But while I focus on the needs, other people don't. They will spend money freely when they have it, then panic at the end of the month as they scramble to get their rent together.

Today, I am frustrated.

I filled the gas tank on the truck. Because it had to be done.

Like HAD to be done. It was on empty.

In some ways, I am super grateful for being the one who gets shit done. For being the nurturer. Being the one who knows how to take care of things. It's good, right? To be able to divide my money. To pay my bills. My mortgage. Ensure the gas is filled. Pick up groceries for all the dinners I plan.

But man, it gets tedious.

Don't get me wrong. I am lucky that I have money to divide. That I have good credit. Equity, whatever that accounts for. But sometimes, I want to be the one to spend frivolously and not even worry about the consequences. Except, there are always consequences. It's a simple truth that will never go away. I will never forget it!

You see, I've worked really hard all my life. I've helped a lot of people. And I have always towed my own line. It's frustrating when people don't get that. I've been doing this for myself since I was 17 years old and I want to protect what I have created. The life I have built. And it's sad when the people who should get it, who should understand why it's so hard for me to share my life, just don't.

And that's it, isn't it?

When you are on your path and someone is with you, then you should drop those walls and share your life. That's my struggle. It's what I have a hard time with. And maybe that's why I feel as though I am doing this alone. I know what my problem is.

It's hard, you know. Being an adult. It's stressful. I don't recommend it.

I'm Tired

Today, I am tired. I woke up tired. Not sleepy. Just tired.

Tired of feeling cautious. Uncertain of my surroundings. Not sure of what to say or do. Or why I want to say and do what I want to say and do. It's complex, I suppose. Or maybe not. Maybe we all know exactly what I mean when I say I am tired of feeling cautious.

The tiredness goes beyond the uneasy feeling. I am tired of feeling heavy. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

Exhausted over money. Not having any. Like none. Being poor. Unable to buy groceries. Or a dress. A badly needed pair of shoes for work. Travelling is out, because gas is so expensive. Ferry rides are out. So my friends, those real life unvirtual ones, seem so far away. I did this to myself. No need to remind me. The bills are piling up. I'm getting frustrated with myself. And the worry, well, I'm so tired of worrying over money. Of having it be the soul thing I'm fretting over and having the lack of it mess up the good things, and taint the happiness I was feeling.

I'm tired of wanting a hug. And not wanting to ask for one at the same time.

More so, I'm tired of feeling fat, even though I know society's idea of what women should weigh is far under what is healthy. And though I know that. I still stress about my weight. Cellulite. Stretch marks. The jiggle in this wiggle. Even things I once loved aren't looking the same. Not while I'm wearing these tired glasses of mine. They make everything look so much more unattractive than it is.

Ugly. Tired of it as well. It's a beast. And it takes over.

The lack of undisturbed slumber is making me tired. In the true sense, though, not in the metaphorical or symbolic way. In the I-am-actually-tired sort of way.

I'm tired of having these random days where nothing seems to go right. Waking up angry, burning the toast, messing up breakfast, banging my head on a cupboard, staining my clothes, tearing my nylons, not being comfortable in my own skin, seeing the flaws and wondering where the fabulous is, biting my lips and making it bleed and wanting someone to say yes to something but they just keep saying no.

It's draining to feel as though life is simply slipping through my fingers as I worry and fret and lose sleep. It's scary to think I'm getting older and the bullshit keeping me awake is the same. It's crazy that one day I simply won't exist anymore and none of this will matter. It's strange that it really doesn't even matter now.

It's funny because it's all in my head.