Category Archives: Misguided Musings

The Universe Is Being Trumpy

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Whenever an issue arises that seems too all-encompassing or beyond any conscious reckoning, I throw it on out to the Universe to take care of. That way, if it all goes to shit, I can throw my fist into the air and curse the Universe for being obstinate or even a little too self-important and not blame myself for being lazy or forgetful. I mean really, you couldn’t spare five minutes to take care of that little thing I asked for? YOU HAD ONE JOB, UNIVERSE.  

Meanwhile, I’m stuck reveling in the mundane and eking out a bit of fun where I can muster the energy. This life thing is tedious sometimes and I must admit to being just a bit tired. I get tired thinking of getting up in the morning, I get tired of going to work, I get tired of doing household crap and I get tired of getting tired. I sound old. And like I’ve just given up on life all together, but really I haven’t. Honest.  

I still get to sit by the fireplace on my quiet nights when I’m alone and write in my journal. I still get to get out with friends and be obnoxious. I still get to bother my kids and ask annoying questions like ‘what are you doing?’ and say the ever popular ‘CRACK IS WHACK’ That pretty much sums up my discussion on drugs. That and ‘JUST SAY NO’. Lame slogans I can get behind. My point in there somewhere is that even when life seems very dull or overly annoying to the point of downright ridiculous, I can still find things to make me feel a little myself again. Like spew annoying clichés at the kids about drugs. Write about my dullness in my journal that is non-judgy and even kinda enjoys my boring run-on sentences. At least, that’s how I like to think of it. I get to exercise. SOME people may roll their eyes or say ‘oh, yeah. What a privilege’ but when I look forward to getting to the studio and a having someone yell at me that ‘YOU CAN DO ANYTHING FOR TEN SECONDS’ and ‘YAY BURPEES!’ then maybe, it’s become a part of me. Maybe I can’t have a good day without moving and feeling stronger. Or maybe, deep down I’m a masochist and I like all the yelling and sweating and swearing…like a Trump rally, only without all the hate.

Either way, there are other things to do and feel good about when life gets dull or ridiculous or too Trumpy. (Trumpy – Adj. word that describes life when it gets judgy, hateful, sweaty and utterly ridiculous to the point of giving the world the middle finger. Eg. He was to the point of swinging from the balcony after his girlfriend dumped him. He wanted to give up. He felt his life had become too Trumpy without her presence. ) Feel free to use this new word. I expect Webster’s will indoctrinate it soon enough.

Get outside, find a hobby, write in a journal, or do some burpees…whatever makes it better.  

Leaving shit up to the Universe to take care of may work some of the time, but it seems to me if I can tackle it myself, it will work out better. This way, I might get all of the blame but I just may get all of the credit, too! And of course, the cake in the end.  

THERE IS ALWAYS CAKE IN THE END…

 

Right! Best. Quote. Ever.

 

 

Perfection Is A Myth and Words I Don’t Like

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It is a myth. Seriously. Perfection is impossible to attain. It’s an illusion. A mirage. A trap designed to suck you in and laugh while you fail miserably at all attempts to own it. Don’t fall for it. Just be you. Imperfect. Flawed. Making mistakes and owning up to them. It’s better for all of us if you just calm down and be you. You will be better for it. So will your mother. And your father. Siblings. Friends. Colleagues. The kid that mows your lawn. The guy that leaves you creepy notes on your desk….Everybody. Essentially, the human race will be better for it. Stop trying to perfect perfection. It can’t be done. Instead, concentrate on being. Being in the moment, being present, being you. Still trying to stand up straight, still working, still breathing, still paying your bills and raising your kids; still walking your dog and helping your neighbour; still falling down and getting back up only to fall down again. Maybe that last part is just me. Anyway, we like you. Honestly, we do! Stop trying to be better than someone else or better than anyone or anything. It’s not a competition. Just be you.  

That was my anti-perfection rant. I felt it needed to be said.

Also, I need milk.

Words I Don’t Like

I felt like I needed to sub-title the second half just to make it easier for you to follow along. I didn’t want someone to get lost inside this post and wonder what the hell all the fuss was about. I care.  

I hate the word ‘deserve’. I don’t understand its usage. How does one person ‘deserve’ something more than another person? How does that work, exactly? I deserve to have a day off and the other person doesn’t? Or do we both deserve it? Who decides? “Go have a good time. You deserve it!” I’ve heard that on many occasions. How do I deserve that? I worked hard? So did many others. Do they deserve it to? “Oh he got what he deserves.” Implies that he was on the other end of some bad shit. What did he do to ‘deserve’ that? Broke the law? Broke someone’s heart? Broke Mrs. Brady’s lamp? What?  

It bothers me.

I never use this word.

It’s in line with other words I don’t like.  

I have a list:

Bitch ( Although, I did force myself to use that in a post)

Moist (I’m not the only one who HATES this word)

Dumb

Stupid

Retard(ed) (SHOULD BE OBLITERATED FROM THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE)

Various terms used to describe women genitalia (All of them are AWFUL)

Craptastic (WHO THOUGHT OF THIS WORD?! Ugh)

Newfie ( Newfoundlander is much better, thank you. AND, just so you know, I’m not a REAL Newfoundlander, I’m still a Mainlander with an honorary title of Newfoundlander. Somebody important told me that. I can’t tell you who, it’s all very hush-hush. Stop asking. A secret ceremony was held. There may or may not have been alcohol involved…)

 

I can’t think of any more right now, but I’m sure there are a few that bug me. Add to the list if you like…It’s an add-on-to-the-awful-word-list blog post. I like to get people involved.

I’m a giver like that.  

 

 

 

An Open Letter To Humanity

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Dear Fellow Human Beings,
I know the past week has been a shithole of nonsense, lies and outrageous tweets. I know that most of us are sitting here questioning the future of the human race. I know that the new leader of one of the biggest nations in the free world is a royal butthole and insistent on remaining narcissistic, misogynistic and racist. I know. I see it too. Let’s all just take a deep breath and ponder the other side.

Yes, the other side. The other side of negative-hate-spewing-nonsense. The side that is clinging to righteousness, decency, compassion and kindness. The side that still champions the underdog, encourages forward thinking and values intelligent dialogue. The side that recognizes the value of a diverse culture, freedom of thought and expression, and the ability to accept the worthy differences in other human beings. This is the side of which I’m choosing to remain a big part, because this is the side that will always win.

I know it doesn’t seem like it now. I know that dark days are ahead of us and the knee-jerk reaction is to duck under the covers and hide until it’s over, but we can’t do that. We need to be the light. We need to guide the way. We need to be the strong ones. We need to take back the human race for the next generation.  

All the light people, stand up. If you can’t stand up, that’s okay. Raise up something…a hand, a foot, a finger an eyebrow, anything. Do it. Remain the positive force that I know you all are. Smile at people. Remind them we are all in this together and one asshole does not have the right to make our lives become a shitty existence. Show some compassion when you can, help a neighbour when he needs it and be there for a friend when she calls. Human decency and kindness is all around us, we just need to take a closer look and shout it for the world to see.

The other night, I was in the line-up at Walmart. I didn’t have a cart thinking I only needed a few things, but overloaded myself with stuff. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t that heavy. I was number ten in a long line, but just ahead of me was a woman in a wheelchair. I knew this woman since I worked with her when I first moved to St. John’s. I was her PCA. She would curse and swear at me. Throw food at my face. Call me down for hurting her and all the while, I would smile and say ‘sorry’, not because I did anything wrong, but because she had so much more going on and she was bitter about it. I got that. So that night as I stood in line at Walmart and watched the cashier help her with her groceries, load them in bags and attach them gently to her chair, assist her with her debit card and make sure she had the correct cash back she needed, and make sure she is okay, I remember the bitter woman and smiled at the cashier. She was calm and courteous and respectful. She didn’t rush her or roll her eyes. She didn’t make her feel any less of a person for being in a wheelchair. She treated her the same as everyone else…A HUMAN BEING.  

No matter what some orange guy with a personality disorder spews over Twitter or says in a news conference, we are all valuable worthy human beings and deserve respect and decency. We are all capable of spreading a little compassion and kindness instead of revelling in dark hate mongering. We need to be the bigger force, the better people the stronger team for those who can’t; for those whose voices get drowned out by all the yelling and hateful speech. Take a breath, remember the light and concentrate on battling the dark side with humour, kindness and warmth. It’s a little thing, but in the bigger picture will make a difference to someone and that’s what we’re here for.  

Stay positive. Smile. Laugh. Walk your damn dog. Buy your kid a cookie. Carry someone’s groceries. Tell someone you love him. It’s all enough, even if it doesn’t feel like it.  

I’ll be over here in the light with the rest of the human beings if you need me…

Thanks for reading and listening and smiling. Carry on, Light People.  

Carry. The Fuck. On.

KJ xo 

  

 

 

Namaste, Bitches

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Daughter and I have decided to give Yoga a try.  She signed us up last week and tonight is our second class.  It was a little disconcerting to be walking into someone’s private home as a Yoga studio, but we decided to keep an open mind and give it a go.

Our Yogi is a slightly-more-than-middle-aged woman who has cleared away the front room of her house to use as a space for practicing.  It was spacious and warm, a perfect spot, really.   There are only 8 people to a class, and to say Daughter is the youngest is akin to stating that an elephant is big.  EVERYONE is my age or older.  She seemed undaunted by this, but I was a bit concerned.  I mean, hey it’s all good for me sista, but she’s just a youngin’…not the class I think she had in mind when she went on Google to find a studio.  Yep.  Googled ‘Yoga Studios’ in our area and this is the one she chose…huh.

yoga

Yeah, we don’t look quite like this

I was unfazed by the older man with the ZZ Top beard and the ragged faded jeans, but the dude who placed his mat beside me (I think his name was Brian) was a heavy breather.  Yep.  Like a bad Seinfeld episode, this guy sounded like he had just run a marathon in under four minutes.  Good thing he wasn’t a close-talker or I really would have had an issue…

seinfeld-close-talker

Close Talkers and Heavy Breathers back up and turn over, please

There were more men than I expected, but I think they were part of couples since the ladies they joined seemed to be very supportive and insightful in the ways of Yoga.   “Bob, YOU WON’T NEED THAT BIG CABLE KNIT SWEATER DURING CLASS.  UGH”.     “Jim YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG”    “Frank, for GOD’S SAKE JUST BREATHE!”

I did not hear any of that, but it would have been AWESOME if I had.

Couples Yoga should provide counselling services after class.

Hello, business idea for the psychiatrically inclined…

By the way, ‘psychiatrically’ is probably not a word and I’m not about to look it up.  I just spent waaaay too much time re-watching Seinfeld episodes looking for a Heavy Breather gag…

The class was a wee bit longer than I thought and when she pulled out the bolsters and dimmed the lights, I thought ‘couples yoga’ is about to get weeeirrrrrd, but it was more like nap time in Kindergarten.  Sorry, ‘relaxing time’…

Her voice suddenly dropped a few octaves as she went around the room to make sure we were ‘relaxed’…mkay.   I suppressed my urge to laugh and made it through relaxation time unscathed…. except for Heavy Breather Dude who I think almost went into cardiac arrest when it was time to come back to reality and this plane of existence…and stand up.

Poor Bob had to put on his sweater lest he got a chill….tonight is about to get awesome with Geriatric Couples Yoga….

yoga-posing

Lose the sweater, Bob.  It’s about to get real up in here…

I CAN’T WAIT!!

Namaste, Bitches.

 

 

12 Days With No Added Sugar and Still Alive To Tell About It

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I’m finished my 12 days in the 14 Day Challenge the Land of No Added Sugar, and I have to say it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.  I figured by now, I’d be hoarding little sugar packets and chugging back their sweet goodness in a bathroom stall. (I didn’t do this)  Or licking the remnants of a latent brownie or cookie crumb off of the kitchen counter, ( I SO WANTED TO DO THIS) or sucking back the remains of wine from the recycled wine bottles still downstairs. (NO, I DIDN’T DO THIS EITHER, EVEN THOUGH I SEE YOU EYEING ME AND THINKING THAT I REALLY DID…OKAY, I THOUGHT ABOUT IT… GAWD)   Or even sneaking mouthfuls of chocolate chips straight from the bag. (Somebody beat me to it)   I haven’t done any of that.  No, really.  I haven’t.

Oh, sure the first few days were like The Hunger Games around here.  I could have easily made one of my kids a human sacrifice for a piece of chocolate cake…or cookie…or crumb of a cookie.  Seriously.   Hubby wouldn’t even drink a glass of wine in my presence lest he endure a death stare of epic proportions.  He still hasn’t had any wine…maybe he’s been visiting the recycling bottles downstairs…

I’m better now.  I don’t feel the need to stab a baby for its juice nor take down some random person in the street for drinking a can of Diet Coke.

Most days.

All that being said, I feel well.  My cravings have diminished.  I have found a coffee that isn’t like drinking the bottom of a sink hole filled with sludge and I’ve lost a few pounds along the way.  All good.

I have noticed a few other things since embarking on this journey of sugarless magnificence:

I’m not craving sweets as much as I used to. Not even chocolate, which is surprising since it’s as close to my heart as cute puppies and Christmas

My eyesight has NOT improved.   WTF sugar?!  Not that I thought it would, but I thought if I was clouded with sugar-induced haziness, it may improve to the point of me not having to squint.    Still read today’s bootcamp exercise as ‘Stripping’ instead of ‘skipping’….and just so you know, the Canadian government weather website tab says ‘Taxes’ not ‘Texas’…I remember thinking “WTF has Texas got to do with Canadian weather?”   Or Taxes for that matter…MAGOO TOAST

I still want a glass of wine. That hasn’t gone away and next Tuesday, I will possibly indulge in a glass…TUESDAY IS NOW MY FAVOURITE DAY.

Sorry to the fellow bootcamp ladies. I must apologize for my epic under-my-breath swearing ( I only said ‘Fuck off’ a few times…yeah.  A mere few times…)  at your effortless perfection in the kitchen in posting all those wonderful looking recipes whilst I slob over on the couch watching Leah Remini take down Scientology and then  cry over the next FUCKING AWESOME EPISODE OF SHERLOCK EVER.  (I think that’s the new title, by the way.  Look it up.  It’s on PBS.  Even THEY can be a wee bit sweary when they want to.)     Anyways,   I would post an epic pic of my unflavoured oatmeal drowned in Cinnamon, but I feel it would cower in comparison to all of your blah blah wonderful soup-stuffed-something-or-other with kale and fucking AVOCADO dishes.    Not a wee bit edgy….

I eat more often. I eat better food every couple of hours so I’m not ravenous when I get home.  Seems to do the trick

I drink more water…probably because there’s nothing else to drink, but it has helped.

It doesn’t bother me too much when my co-workers plop down in front of me with their tea and Oreo cookies and eat them in front of me without offering one or putting them away out of sensitivity for my plight with sugar and all it’s evilness. Oh, you’d think they’d care, but apparently they are as empathetic as an abandoned indifferent stagnant rock with no care or compassion for others who are working their asses off at improving their health and fitness and becoming an overall well-rounded individual, so piss off!  Nope, doesn’t bother me ONE BIT.

So, there you have it.  I’m rocking the sugarless thing with all the raw emotion of a person on a runaway roller coaster with a death wish.

ONLY TWO MORE DAYS TO GO AND EVERYONE MAY SURVIVE THIS SHIT.

Maybe….

karen

Me on Tuesday