Concerts Make Me Question my Relationship Making Abilities

I am normally not one to think about my single status. Not that I don’t want to be in a relationship or that I am actively avoiding it but in general it just does not cross my mind. It’s just kind of like it’s there.  It’s a fact about me that I am sporting that single statue and it does not bother me for the most part. I typically get on with my day just fine without a partner. But one of the times that I am the most aware of my single status is when I want to go to a concert. A concert that no one else in my life wants to go to. And all of a sudden, I wish that I had someone in my life that I can force this experience upon. But that is because, the role that music plays in my life…. is different compared to most. Almost freakish.

It’s not just the sound. It’s the experience as a whole. The feeling of the music pulsing through your body and it’s almost like your very blood comes alive. The bass throwing itself into your nerves, jolting your bones with ever beat. The hairs on your arms stand up and you can almost feel your pupils dilating. The way I’m describing my general concert experience right now, it may sounds like what happens to you when you get into a very lively club, which it sometimes true to some extent. But a concert to me at least is a whole different ballpark. For the most part, I will only go to concerts where I am devoted to the artist. And not to oversell the value, but having completely devotion to an artist is a big deal for me. Deal breaker quality stuff. It typically means that I had a connect to the music. And as I am writing that sentence, I know just how it sounds pretty fake on paper, I know but for me it’s the most real that I personally can get. There is a place/moment that I get to when I literally lose myself in music. (que Lose Yourself by Eminem) It’s almost like an out of body experience. I feel real and alive and strangely protected. Like I’m in my own sphere of sound and all that matters is me in that moment, listening to that music in this specific time of my life. I move, I dance, and as I mentioned at the beginning of this part, I fully throw myself into experience. So long story short, concerts are some of my favorite experiences of all time.

My only problem is that a combination of my strange taste in more unpopular music and my standards of seating (I will pay more than most of my friends for pretty terrible seats because the sound is all that matters to me, not always necessarily seeing the performer in question. Although that is fun too I’ve heard.) I normally have a difficult time finding someone to go with me. I have gone to concerts alone before (read the post about my first and currently last trip in a police car for an example) but it’s not always as fun. I also realize that my description of myself at the concert and what I go through out the show overall would make it seem that I would actually prefer to go to the shows by myself. And it also seems that normal people would not necessarily want to stand too close by me during a concert, even friends that I know and people that care about me. While both are true to some extent, I cannot help my fear of going alone. It’s human nature right? Or is it because I’m a girl and I partially worry about my safety. Part of my mind is constantly aware of my surroundings and I’m not able to fully put myself into the show itself. But in reality, if I’m going to honest with myself, it’s not just the companionship but the actual presence. The need to share the experience. Music should be shared….. but also and mostly the fear of being judged when seen going to a show by one’s self. How duplicitous is that statement from someone who just explain the impact that music has on her. Why should I care so much about going alone? What does that say about me as a person? A literal “losing of myself, in the music”.

Putting the Fuse in Confused,



Buffy 20

Angel, Thank You for teaching me to never stop working to improve one’s self

Spike, Thank You for showing me how to laugh in the face of adversity

Tara, Thank You for showing me how the quietest person can sometimes be the loudest

Anya, Thank You for showing me that people can always change

Dawn, Thank You for showing me how to accept yourself no matter what new things you may discover

Giles, Thank You for giving me faith in mentors and safe places

Xander, Thank You for finally giving me a character to relate to, for showing me how to actually save the world (despite your friends thinking that they are saving the world), and redefining the words Trust, Devotion and Extraordinary

Willow, Thank You for reaffirming the value of knowledge and showing me that it’s okay to be a geek/nerd/bookworm. And also that it’s also okay to have a dark side and for showing me how to face and accept that part of yourself.

Buffy, Thank you for teaching me about strength, endurance and passion. Also for showing me how to love and how to let go and how to truly put everyone else first. Most of all, thank you for being my original “Nevertheless She Persisted”.


I am in a very instable relationship right now. It has been going on for years, and it has become too big a part in my life to let go. I know that our relationship is bad. Terrible actually and getting a little worse every day. But I also know that it almost impossible to let go and change things. It is a relationship that has consumed my life in an almost indulgent way. It moved in my life a long time ago which incredible force and does not plan on leaving, even after I had said, out loud in fact, that things were going to change. It’s has truly taken over me in ways that affect my work, my friends, my family and myself. I have to end it. I know it too. My relationship with Food…is extremely unhealthy (pun intended. Wait is that a even a pun?). I have always known that my relationship with Food was no good and dare I say cruel? I have no intention on finishing that plate of fries that came with my order but it screams at me. “Bitch Please! Eat them all!” And I find myself obeying even thought I told myself that I was only going to have a few. I try to stop myself a few times but Food is not having anything and is even madder now, if at all possible. “What did I just tell you? I told you to eat all of them! IF you stop again, this is only going to get harder. It’s only going to get worse. Try it. I double dog dare you.” And then the plate is clean. I don’t even remember it happening. Had I blacked out? Food smirks at me because it knows that it won. Fries are usually the biggest problem. Breakfast foods are worse though because they gang up on me as a team and do it when I am weakest. The worst and most abusive of them all… is chocolate. I have tried to say no to chocolate my entire life but the sneaky little bastard will never go away. Even when it is not there, I think about it. I dream about it. I even fantasize about it. I know, it’s sick. Chocolate has taken control over most of my life and it knows it too. Chocolate knows that I will never say no to it and that is the problem and the source of most of my own issues. The problem is that I don’t hate it. I don’t had any of them. I love them and that is the problem. I love them too much to say good-bye. Also, they will always be there. I cannot get away as much as I would like to. There is an irresistible factor that comes with food that is the main driving point of this relationship. It’s beautiful, it smells intoxicating, you know you are going to feel good while you are with it. All I want is to be able to let go but I know deep in my heart, I am pretty much stuck in this relationship and it will always be a part of me for the rest of my life. They say that acceptance is the first step in admitting you have a problem. Well I accept that I have this problem, now please excuse me. I need to go get something warm, deep friends and covered in chocolate.

What? I’m told you that I was accepting this.

Putting the Fuse in Confused,



“BECAUSE SHE IS A FUCKING MORON!!!!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs and actually jumped up in the air, hitting the ground hard with a resounding thump just in case my voice didn’t convey how angry I was. It was almost reminiscent of a child’s tantrum, if my anger wasn’t so great and intense and dare I say fearful. The second of silence that filled the hallways was almost loud. There is a weird pause that lingered in the air right before I forced myself to take a breath. My roommate looks at me in total disbelief. She has never heard me scream like that. In a truth, I actually don’t think I have ever screamed like that intentionally ever in my life. I yell all the time, don’t get me wrong. But that scream was very, very different. It erupted out of a seriously dark place in my soul that I did not even know actually existed. I was out of breath and my noses flares had a mind of their own. I could actually feel my heart beating in such a way I had previously only recognized from after a seriously hard multi-mile run in 90 degree heat. The heat was practically radiating off of my red cheeks. That was not normal to go from practically calm to… whatever this was in that short of  time span. I actually think it was not normal to feel this angry or to let my body take over in this manner, in general. As my mind came back to me I tried to evaluate how I got here. And then it hit me. I became my father. And that terrified me. But probably not in the ways that most people would interpret that sentence. You see, I idolize my dad. He is my biggest male role model and influenced me in the best possible ways my entire life. I love him as much as a daughter could physically love her dad and then some. I am the person I am today based on the ways that he and my mother showed the world to my brother and I. Some of my legitimately happiest moments are when I can make my dad smile. I want to take after Dad as much as I can. But this was something that scared me beyond belief.

The scariest words that I have ever heard in my life were “Dad’s in the hospital, it’s his heart.” I didn’t know at the time that it was what they would later diagnose as AFib (irregular heartbeats) and felt myself falling apart. Even that very day in the hospital, he was basically normal by the time my 13 year old self would reach his bed side  and the sight of him smiling, sitting up, still wearing his dress pants under his hospital gown and making jokes about how the hospital had better TV (we never had cable) were just enough to make me burst into tears even after the nurses kept assuring me he was completely fine and was not in any life threatening danger. And before this story takes any other dark turns I am just going to jump right to the end. Dad is fine and today is as healthy as he has ever been. I talk to him all the time, equal amount about politics, both of our workplaces, life and bowel movements. Our most recent discussion involved my poking fun at him at dying his salt and pepper beard that was just starting to grey. This poking only occurred after years of dad embracing old age and slightly shaming my mother for plucking out all her white hairs. Dad is fantastic. Dad is living life to the fullest. But more than a decade ago, he was not. He was a lot angrier back then. He took everything he was into himself and would have rapid bursts of rage. In his defense, Dad owned (actually still owns) his own business, he has people in his life that made life difficult at times and at the time of his heart attack, my brother and I were at the height of the worst of our combined teenage years. But after his attack, Dad changed everything. He completely changed his diet for one matter, he started to exercise more for another, but most of all, he smiled more. That is actually what he will tell people. He will point to his deep crow’s feet that decorate eyes and say that these are what saved his life, the many years of more laughing and smiling. He never took things as seriously as he had in the past. He learned to let go of the little things and just worry about what mattered the most to him, mostly Mom, my brother and myself. He shrugged more, and found the good in everything. A few years ago, Dad’s doctor said that his heart had improved so much, it was almost like he had never had heart problems in the first place.

I can tell you exactly why I screamed like that day. I greatly disagree with the opinions of said person I was screaming (obviously) about but the thing is, that person probably doesn’t even remember the disagreement. She probably shrugged and moved on with her life. I will not go into too much detail, but my deep disagreement with this person is actually a big deal. The decision she made reflects the decisions made by so many other people and that decision will affect lives. Many lives for the worst. So I wasn’t irrational going off about an outfit decision or lunch choice. Her vocal opinion was a big deal and hit me really hard. So yes, I almost felt in the right to feel the way I did. But my anger, that was making her problem my problem. I should not be fighting this person’s mind but their concept. I let her get under my skin, crawling deeper and deeper into my mind and letting her subliminal message rage havoc on me. I let this happen. I cannot let this happen again. So this post is for two reason. It’s a bit different from what I normally write. One it is to show my appreciation for Dad as a person. To show how much the will of a human can literally save lives. Second, it’s a reminder to follow in his example. I am putting it in writing and out in the open. I will refuse to let my demons take over me again. I will not other people define me. I will chose my life’s outcomes. Because I can. And I will.

Never giving up,



This is the dilemma of the day. Right outside the facility where I work, construction accidently hit a main water line. So they had to shut off the water to our building. That was yesterday. The company rented port a potties for us today. And have plenty of bottle of water. But for someone like me who not only pees a lot but also hates using port a potties, this was not great. The first time I was able to go to the Panera that was less than a 5 minutes drive away. But I tend to wait until the last minute before I let myself pee (you know, to get all the nutrients) so when I left to go, I had to go bad enough that I almost just aborted mission and went in the bushes outside the facilities. But then knowing me, that’s when one of my managers would walk by and that’s how I would get fired and then that would be the reason for termination I would have to put down when I apply for new jobs. So I run to my car and speed off. I run into the Panera just in time, come out and then order a coffee. I know this seems like the exact opposite I should do since coffee basically runs straight through me but I really needed a coffee right then and there. I also bought a baguette 1) because waiting made me hungry 2) I was hoping the bread would soak up the liquid. I know that’s not how it works but maybe it’s all mental. It’s not all mental, I had to go again like an hour later. And I ate a third of the baguette just because it was there, I stopped being hungry a while ago. What category can we put these issues in?

Lost in my Own Mind

Disclaimer: This is much more like a stream of consciousness post that has very little editing and it makes barely any sense at all but my desire to post this took over my desire to edit it.

Has anybody ever completely loss themselves in their own mind and thoughts? I mean to the point of being delusional. When it’s on purpose, it seems to be okay but when it’s an accident, that is pretty terrifying when reality hits you, like the unexpected bowling ball flying through the air and smashing into your skull. There is a moment of wonder and how you got to this point and then a moment of complete self-loathing that you lived so deep into this imagination. is there even a point in which you can come back? Of course yes. But, my problem is that I normally don’t want to. Not everyone is going to understand this. I do feel like we are a very specific breed of people. The kinds of people who make up worlds in their heads and can configure them into such detail and specificity that it’s practically real to them at least. When reality sucks or is taking a little too much of a toll on the mind, some find this alternative world to be an escape. It’s like a fantasy but not at the same time. Unless you have experienced it, then it’s a difficult concept to grasp, unfortunately. This isn’t like, I am fantasizing of being the next winner of American Idol or some other singing show even though I cannot sing at all. This is more of, I am creating  whole in world for myself in which a person (more like a character) that is like me but isn’t entirely me had this entirely new life that involves  a rough childhood, singing on the street for money during the day and bartending at night and then being  seen by a producer and forced onto the show against their wishes but ends up blowing everyone away with their true soulful renditions, winning the show and then becoming one of the most iconic voices of their age. But this fake person not me and I do not want it to be me. I just want to be able to go to this fake made up in my head reality every once in a while to allow myself to pretend to have this experience that I will never have in my entire life but I am perfectly okay with not having in my actual life. I just want it in this fake life that is not mine but only exists in my head. Did that make any sense at all? Probably not.

It’s a creation, a field of possibilities where everything happens for a reason. A place that, dare I say it? Is just much more fun for me to be in then my regular life. I do actually feel guilty for going into my mind so often. I do not have a difficult life. I actually have a blessed life fill with love, laughter and experience. I have never gone hungry, always had what I needed in life and cannot say that anything horrible traumatic has happened to me to the point of a mental break. My life as I know it is pretty wonderful. And yet, why do I escape to this mind fantasy as much as a do? Is it because I am selfish? Is it because I keep thinking things are going to get better? Is it because I am focusing on what I don’t have rather than what I do have? Or is it because it’s fun? It’s almost like a drug, this mind escape of mine. A place where everything that I need is at my disposal and where nothing can go wrong unless I dictate it. Then maybe it’s actually a control issue. Am I a control freak? In such a way that when things do not go my way, I flee to the place where things always go my way? That is pretty messed up. It’s almost like a tantrum, and I hate tantrums. I understand why tantrums happen but there is something about seeing it occur from an outsider’s perspective that gets under my skin. It can be a child or an adult but it makes me cringe. Which is hypocritical of me I know because of course, in my life time I have had tantrums. But when why does it bother me so much to witness this behavior in others. It’s a lack of control I guess? It’s crazy almost how my mentality works like that. My selfishness. This part of me that I want to change so much.

But is has saved me on a few occasions. Just a few days ago, I was out at a bar when a young man approached me pretty brashly with the intention of making out and maybe dancing. I really had no desire to do this but I was relatively intoxicated at the moment. In a general, there would have been a chance that I would have ended up following through despite knowing in the back of my head that I shouldn’t. But because I was able to escape to my mind, and realized that this person was not as gentlemanly as the other character that I had made up in my head. I realized that I would rather not so I walked away. I had lost myself so much in my mind that I decided that I would rather just sit at the bar by myself and go there rather than interact with a real life person. This truth about that night is a bit of a double edged sword. One, thank goodness because my evaluation of that situation the next morning made it seem as like I would have made some bad decisions if I had decided to follow through. However, would I have had the same reaction if the person was different. If the person who approached with a nicer attitude? Or just treated me nicer? And I would have just turned them away to be alone with my own thoughts? Is this an actual problem? Now I know what it means when they say that a mind is a dangerous thing. Is this normal? Am I running solo on this? Do I have a problem?

Putting the Fuse in Confused,


Don’t Pull that Deer Crap on Me

Disclaimer: I do agree of some of the states that are going to be made and I disagree with other but none of that really matters towards the conclusion of this post. Also, I am aware that these are not universal truths but at some point they show how society, be it past or present, has interpreted at one point or another. A women stripping for money is considered unacceptable. Cursing in front of children (both on purpose and on accident) is considered unacceptable. Any form of picking your nose, farting or spitting in public is considered unacceptable. Sneezing without covering your mouth is rude, sneezing without covering your mouth directly at another person is worse and if this person is a stranger, this behavior is completely and beyond unacceptable. Eating food that fell on the floor is gross, eating food that fell on the sidewalk is disgusting, and eating food that fell in the trashcan is unacceptable. Eating a banana very slowly in public is culturally not accepted and talking about castration around anyone with a penis is unacceptable. Wearing authentic fur in a pet shop is just wrong on many levels. When women wear tight skirts, or really short bottoms or shirts that show cleavage, it’s very frowned upon. For certain religions, marrying outside the sect is not always presented as an option. On those lines, breaking religious codes (be it the 10 commandments from the Bible or the Torah) are considered sins that can lead to eternal damnation. Talking on your phone during a movie is beyond all senses of the word unacceptable. Putting children on leashes at Disney World is unacceptable parenting. A woman feeding her baby in public has been called disgusting by more than one person.

HOWEVER. What I learned quite recently is that when a person goes deer hunting, apparently to see how close a deer might be, one must get up close and personal with the deer’s droppings. Not by sight, Not by smell, Not by touch, but by taste. Yes, you read that correctly. BY TASTE. And for some reason that is acceptable. THAT IS ACTALLY ACCEPTABLE. Did you read that as me yelling. Good. Because I was yelling. I said that exact phrase when I learned about this but with an exclamation point and question mark at the end rather than a period. I am not a hunter, and I have never been hunting. I am a Vegetarian (that, for the record and to be completely honest, eats fish and other seafood on occasion) so I never plan on hunting. I do not like the idea of hunting but to put myself out there, I also do not feel that it is right or even my place to say that nobody should be allow hunt ever. But I NEVER will think it is okay, unless it somehow saves your life, to put another creature’s feces in your mouth. So tell me society, how did we get here?

Putting the Fuse in Confused


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