When Jokers go wild...

Kenny Rogers is a smart guy.  He gave some really good advice in a song a long time ago.  “You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, and know when to run…”  There was more, but this was the line I was thinking about.  Now that I’m writing this thought down…I find myself wondering who actually wrote that song, because now that I think of it…it probably wasn’t Kenny Rogers.  But I’m going to credit him with the good advice, because he is the one who sang it and that’s where I heard it.

The specific piece of advice I’m talking about is...that sometimes you’ve got to know when to walk away.  That is a harder thing for some than others.  It’s also a harder thing depending on the situation and what you’re walking away from.  But truly – knowing when to walk away and actually doing it, can be the most difficult thing in the world.

I have had some relationships that I knew were not going to work.  I knew early on that they were not going work.  I stayed longer than I should have because I thought things would change.  You always think that if you hold on a little longer, things will get better.  Sometimes they do.  Many times, they don’t.  I thought he would change when he saw how much I cared.  I thought he would change if I just acted more like this…or like this.  I thought things would get better if I just did this other thing.  Alas, things did not change and neither did he.  People don’t change because you want them to.  They change when THEY want too.  No amount of begging, pleading or changing yourself will make someone else change until they are ready and they want to.  That’s another hard life lesson to learn.

This is not just about relationships though.  I’ve had this with friendships too.  People I tried to be friends with despite some things they did or said that really bothered me.  You always think that a true friend would stick by their friends no matter what.  But honestly – sometimes you have to walk away for your own sanity.  Sometimes you have to be a little selfish and do what’s best for YOU.  In reality – it’s not even selfish.  Maybe I should have said that sometimes you have to be self preserving.  Because in the end, that’s what you have to do.  Preserve your life and your own sanity by walking away from a situation that’s not getting any better.

Because of this…you have to know when to walk away.  Sometimes knowing WHEN to walk away is as hard as the actual leaving.

I guess in either situation – my measuring stick is about the same.  Allegorically speaking, it’s more of a measuring scale than a stick.  You know those scales that you put weight in one side and the item you want to weigh in the other?  Yeah…like that.  In order to know when to walk away…I weigh the good against the bad.  When the bad stuff clearly outweighs the good…it’s time to go.  Now obviously that’s not a technical measurement and there are a million variables and a lot of it has to do with perception.  However, sometimes you can look at a situation and see the obvious imbalance.  When you do…it’s time to walk away.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I don’t mean for people to keep check and balance sheets on their relationships like a check register….but if you look around one day and realize that you are unhappy four out of every seven days with this person – maybe it’s time to go.

In addition to this…the recent issue with my alcoholic friend…and some random conversation regarding Amy Winehouse…warrants mention of this situation as well.  Sometimes you have to walk away from someone who you KNOW really needs help.  If they will not get/accept the help – you cannot keep walking around behind them and cleaning up their mess and waiting for them to die.  You can’t.  Sometimes you have to know when to walk away.  Sometimes walking away from that person is the one thing that snaps them back to reality and causes them to realize that they have to get help.  Maybe if enough people had walked away from Amy Winehouse and stopped putting up with her bullshit…she would have gotten help and would still be alive.  Maybe not.  I don’t know.  Every situation is different.  But you can’t keep trying to help someone who refuses to accept it.  You have to walk away to preserve your sanity and to let them know that their behavior is not acceptable.

If this person – be it friend or significant other or even family member – makes you feel bad way more than they make you smile, maybe it’s time to walk away.

So take Kenny’s advice about this.  Do not take all his advice…because his surgery choices might not have been so great and his business opportunities don’t seem to have panned out that well either.  But on this, you can be sure – you’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run.

I usually hold ‘em too long…but I’m learning.

Stuff to put your stuff in.

I have too much stuff.  I’m not a hoarder – yet.  But I have a touch of “pack rat” in my blood.  I have sentimental attachment to things and want to keep them.  Or I am absolutely positive that SOME DAY this random thing I kept will be useful.  On many occasions, they have been - but not nearly enough to justify how much stuff I have.

I have psychoanalyzed it and my completely uneducated inner psychotherapist says that because I grew up so very poor and didn’t have much…and because my lazy father wouldn’t keep a job and managed to get us evicted several times where we lost a bunch of our things…I keep things for comfort.  All manner of things.  Some of them are completely age inappropriate.  What forty something year old woman needs this many cute stuffed animals?  Really?  I love them, though.  They make me so happy.  So I keep buying them.

Additionally – even when I do not want it anymore…I cannot throw it away.  Because surely, somewhere, there is someone who really, really needs this…thing.  I need to keep it until I find someone who needs it and can use it.  I am always SO sure of this.  I can probably count on ONE hand the number of times I have had exactly that thing that someone needs because I kept a bunch of random crap.

So…while I know this is completely irrational…I still can’t stop.  I am a little better than I used to be.  That’s for sure.  This last time I moved, I gave away enough stuff to fill two SUV’s.  But I still have more stuff than I could ever need or use.  It’s just so hard to let it go!  It’s so far outside my comfort zone.

Several years ago, we knew this lunatic who was a total extremist.  One day he decided that the best way to live was to purge and simplify and get rid of everything you didn’t absolutely HAVE to have.  He went so overboard that one day he had to come over and borrow a fork because he had gotten rid of all of his.  During his freak out…I mentioned getting some containers to organize things with.  He looks at me and says “that’s just more stuff to put your stuff in.”  What?  “It’s just more stuff.  You have too much stuff so these stores are trying to sell you stuff to put your stuff in.  It’s a racket.”

He was nuts.  He’s still nuts.  But that one phrase stuck with me and still to this day makes me laugh.  It’s “stuff to put your stuff in”.

I love stuff.  I have a lot.  And I love buying stuff to put my stuff in.  I love buying stuff to organize my stuff with.  I even like buying stuff to write down catalogs of my stuff.  Because in the end…pens and notebooks are just more stuff and I have a terrible stationery addiction.

Maybe one day I will no longer be minorly insecure about having things.  Maybe one day I will wake up and realize that I am financially stable enough that I do not have to keep every single thing because I might need it some day.  If I really need one of these whatevers…I can buy one.  No…I’m not rich with lots of disposable income…but I can throw away a ten dollar item and purchase a new one if I end up needing it later.  I just have to convince myself of this.  I have to convince myself that I am not going to be unhappy without all these stuffed animals and multiple note pad and pen sets and random cute skulls and just…crap.  These are not where my happiness lies.  I just have to fully come that conclusion and be ready to believe it.  Then I can purge more of this crap out of my life and maybe some day I won’t live in a cluttered house.

Until then…I will happily go to the Container Store and buy stuff to put my stuff in.

PS: FU – J.F.

 

I hate moving.

We moved a couple of weeks ago.  It was 105 degrees.  I am a pack rat.  These things do not equal fun.  I come by this pack rat thing naturally as my dad is basically a hoarder…but that’s another story.  I’ve never really wanted to OWN a house.  Buying a house just seems really stressful to me.  But moving makes me wish I could buy one so I NEVER EVER have to move again.  Moving stinks.

I hate packing.  I hate stressing out over the packing.  I hate not being able to take time off and thus being down to the wire to get the last stuff out of the old place.  Oh…and for the love of parsley….I hate cleaning up the old place.  It’s so miserable.  It doesn’t help that I am completely domestically challenged and would rather mow the lawn and change the oil than clean the house.

Now that all of that negative is out there…let’s look at the positive side of moving.  I have SO much more space now.  I moved from a two bedroom, two bath apartment… into a three bedroom, two bath house with a two car garage.  PLUS – neither of my children moved with me.  The house is all mine and my husband’s.  We each have an extra closet.  I have a whole guest bathroom I can fill with my ridiculous amount of hair product and toiletries I don’t need.  There are ceiling fans in every room, unlike our apartment which only had one in the living room.  The A/C works ten times better than my apartment one.  I have a garage I can park my car in so the door doesn’t burn me when I shut it and in the winter I don’t have to scrape ice off the windows.  I am now four miles from my job and have a ten minute commute each way.  It. Is. Glorious.

I also enjoy unpacking and getting everything reorganized.  I like seeing how much stuff I got rid of and putting everything in it’s place instead of having things piled up everywhere.  It’s a good feeling, that.  I can actually FIND stuff.  How about that?  I mean...there is still the frustration of having too much stuff and not being able to find that "perfect" place for every single item...but that's a small price to pay.

And the very best part of moving for me?  Buying new stuff for the new house.  We need a trashcan.  We keep telling each other to remember that.  Which makes me laugh and quote Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure…”Remember a trash can…”  We need new kitchen stuff like towels and pot holders and oven mitts.  We need planters now that we have all this yard to make pretty.  We need curtains and guest bathroom decorations and baskets and organizing items and shelves and oh holy crap this expensive!  But I love it.

On top of all this…we have also decided to stop decorating our house as if we are broke college students.  Up to now we have had a futon and wire rack shelving in our living room.  I have hated it for a long time.  But now we decided to bite the bullet and go and buy a real shelving unit and a real couch.  I love Ikea.

So, while this is me spending a ton of cash I probably shouldn’t spend…it makes me incredibly happy to have a place I am able to invite people to visit me in.  No worrying about angry, downstairs neighbors or a place so small only 5 people can comfortably sit down.  This is an awesome thing.

In the end…I do hate the physical action of moving.  But I am really excited about the results.  The husband gave me the green light to throw a Halloween party.  It’s only August and I’m already looking at decorations.

I love moving!

But...I NEED it.

Have you ever really looked at “needed” vs. “wanted”?  People have come to use these words interchangeably.  I am just as guilty as anyone.  On any number of occasions I have uttered such ridiculous nonsense as:

“I need a new tattoo.”

“I need a new shirt.”

“I need a vacation.”

“I need a Chewbacca voice machine.”

“I need one of those wooden jewelry boxes at Scarborough Faire.”

“I SO need a fuzzy hat with kitty ears.”

Let’s be honest here.  I do not NEED any of those things.  My honest “needs” are pretty simple.  Food, water, place to live, job, basic necessities in life.  I do not NEED a wooden jewelry box from Scarborough Faire or a fuzzy hat with kitty ears.  I really do want them both, though.  My birthday is September 3^rd.  Woops, tangent.

So yeah…people use need for want quite often…because it makes the want sound less selfish and more important and necessary.  I get that.

On this same note – it makes me think about “needed” vs. “wanted” in relationships.  People say things like:

“Don’t leave me, I need you.”

“I just don’t feel needed.”

“I need you here with me.”

“I need to feel needed in this relationship”

Even in songs…

“…I need you like water, like breath like rain…” ~Leann Rimes

“…I need you…like a poet needs the pain…” ~Bon Jovi

“…I need you tonight…” ~INXS

“…I need you now…” ~Chicago

But honestly…these are not things you NEED.  These are things you WANT.  So I look at that again.  Do I want someone to truly feel like they NEED me?  Let’s define “need”.  I looked it up and the first definition says “to require something”.  Reading further on…it does include “want”…which explains why they are so often interchanged.  However…if you ask me, “need” has a specific connotation.  It means you require it.  It means it is not optional.  It means that it is not a random whim…it is important and that you must have it in order to accomplish something else.  I do not want to be “needed” in a relationship.  I want to be wanted.  I want it to be optional for that person to have me around and for them to WANT me around…not NEED me around.  I like a good, sappy, love song as well as the next hormonal female…but I do not literally wish to be needed by someone in order for them to continue living.  For one…well, that’s just too much pressure.  For two – I want to be with someone who can stand on their own two feet.  Sure, I don’t mind if they need me to help them with something…or need me to take care of them when they are sick…or need me because the really need someone to talk to about something.  Sure I want them to need me for that.  But more specifically…I want them to NEED the thing…and WANT me to be the one that provides it.  So I’m still back to wanting to be wanted, not needing to be needed.

When it comes down to it…I want to be a choice someone makes.  Not a requirement they fulfilled.  I wish to be wanted in a relationship…because it was a choice they made over all the other people they could have wanted.

That’s just me though.  Feel free to write me a sappy love note and tell you need me.  But you’ll impress me more by telling me you want me.

A cornucopia of worthless talent.

So…I’ve told you all about my being a plethora of useless information.  Now I thought it would be a good time to share the fact that I also have many amazing…and completely worthless…unusual talents!

I love the show America’s Got Talent and Britain’s Got Talent.  They have some of the silliness of American Idol but without all the drama and without the completely ridiculous stuff and the obnoxious waste of air that is Simon.  My favorites are the ones that totally shock you – like the little girl that came out in her ballet outfit and everyone rolled their eyes…then she opened her mouth and BOOM she could really sing!  And sweet little frumpy Susan Boyle!!!  I loved her audition…it was awesome.

My point is…these people, well – most of them, have actual talents that can be used to entertain people and make money.  All of mine are party tricks that are most useful when everyone is really drunk.

But hey – I’m fun at parties!  Invite me over!

Back to the story.  When I was little, I could move my big toe right to left and back and make it pop.  It looked really weird.  And my cousin Candace even went so far as to make me take off my shoe in a restaurant and show her friends.  I can’t do that one any more but I do have others.

I can move my ears.  I mean without using my hands.

I can raise one eyebrow at a time and reverse them relatively quickly.  I can make them do “the wave”.

I can make a fist and make my finger joints pop audibly.

I can pick up almost anything with my toes.

I can French braid my hair with no mirror.

I do a really great orangutan walk – although I won’t do it often.

And I can balance things on my head.   This is the one that brought up this topic.  I have pretty much always had a habit of balancing things on my head.  From the time I was little, I have done this randomly. 

One night, at the tender age of 24, I was in a club to see a band.  A few friends and I were on the dance floor, dancing around and acting goofy.  Some guys were clustered around and flirting with us.  I finished my drink and looked at the empty glass of ice and then put it on my head…then danced with it there.  The guy flirting with me says, “If you can make it all the way back to the bar with that on your head, I’ll buy you another one.”

“Oh, you’re on.” I said.  I walked to the bar with the cup on my head – and true to his word, he bought me a drink.  Turns out…he was willing to do this the whole night.  I think that he thought once I’d had 2-3 drinks I wouldn’t be able to do it anymore.  He thought wrong.

I told him at one point, “I can do this all night…you really don’t have to buy me any more drinks.”

“No way … I want to see how many times you can do this.” He laughed.

He bought me SEVERAL drinks.  Maybe he was just trying to get me smashed.  Well, that worked…I was pretty lit by the end of the night.  Glad I wasn’t driving.

I’m not sure what happened to that guy.  I ended up getting invited onto the band's tour bus and when I got back off he was gone.  Hopefully he didn’t regret spending all that money on drinks with nothing but the entertainment of watching me balance a cup on my head.  Not that he would have gotten anything else out of it anyway…but still.

So yeah…there ya go.  I have completely worthless talents to go with my completely useless trivia.

It’s a good thing I’m reasonably cute or I wouldn’t be good for a damn thing.