Category Archives: friends

30 Days of Truth…and BOOBS!!!

I saw a few people doing this meme. I don’t usually jump in the meme thing, but I thought this one would provoke me to start blogging again a bit more consistently. I have a beautiful new template layout all ready to go and still haven’t hung it up here yet because I haven’t been blogging very much. But, I figured this might be a good foray into getting that jump start that I need. So, 30 days of truth…one post a day, 30 days worth. I was going to start it a few days ago, but my crazy OCD won’t allow for me to start on a random numbered day. I waited for October 1st. The meme includes the following questions:

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself.

So here we go. Something I hate about myself. This is pretty easy. The thing I hate most about myself is probably one of the things I also like about myself if that makes any sense. The thing I hate the most is my “I don’t give a shit what other people think of me” attitude. This attitude has it’s good points. For example, it allows me to speak freely at any time, any place in any situation. However, it has also gotten me into a fair amount of trouble with people that I do care about. And, it is because I care about certain people that I really should care what they think of me. Sometimes, I am not very tactful. I have been working on this for the past few months. I am trying to put the ol’ brain in gear before letting the mouth (or, in this case, fingertips) go into overdrive. I find that people who say they don’t give a shit about what other people think use it more as a defense mechanism for bad behavior. That’s the truth of it. When someone removes me from due to something that I have a strong opinion about, I tend to say “Fuck it. I don’t give a shit.” But, sometimes, I do. And it bothers me. Then I start to dwell on it. Eventually, it starts to eat at me a little bit. Usually not enough for me to apologize for my actions even when I feel that an apology may be justified. I never usually intend to hurt people. It doesn’t start out that way, but 9 times out of 10, it ends up that way. I know I have hurt a few people I used to be good friends with because I also can be judgmental and I have a passion for getting caught up in drama. Again, I am working on both of those things. It’s hard to undo something you have done for 44 years of your life overnight. However, the last time I did something that was pretty rotten, I did apologize to the parties involved. Not because I cared so much what they thought about me, but more because I care what “I” think of me. And, that particular situation made me feel bad about myself. Do I regret the things I say? Sure, sometimes. Then again, sometimes, I feel they are things that need to be said and I am unapologetic about it. There needs to be a happy medium there. You can say the things that need to be said…only, I think it’s best to say it to someone directly as opposed to passively saying things to others, hoping that the intended target “accidentally” gets wind of it. I’m normally not a passive/aggressive person so I really want to kind of edge that out of my life. I have always been the kind of person to say something to someone’s face (or Facebook, if you will). This “I don’t care” attitude has not served me well in the past and I don’t foresee that this will change for me in the future. I am working on improving myself just a little, every day. But, you know, Rome wasn’t built in a fucking day. Neither was I. I’m not quite where I want to be just yet, but I know I am heading in a better direction.

But yeah, I don’t like that part of me very much. I would rather use my powers for good than evil. One day at a time, I suppose.

It’s really all any of us can do.

Now, all that happy horseshit aside, Ladies…this month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It is time once more to pay attention to your fun bags, your sweater cows, your tata’s, your boobies or whatever the hell you call them. Along with the 30 days of truth, I will be talking about taking care of the tits of doom, how to give a self breast exam, what you need to look for/feel for and how you can invite your partner to help you! So, make sure to put on your PINK all month long in support of the titty brigade.

If you have the chance, stop by FeelYourBoobies.com to sign up and join the awareness group. You can send reminders to all your female friends and relatives about the importance of breast exams. Let’s help keep the boobies bouncing along healthfully and happily!

Defining the Girl…or Facing Facebook.

I was trying to define my blog to someone today. Tried to explain what it was about without saying something mundane like “Oh, it’s all about my ever so exciting life.” Truth of the matter is, my life is pretty exciting. Not in a “travel-all-over-the-world-make-love-to-diplomats-spend-too-much-cash” kind of way, but in a “hey, I accidentally shit myself while bending over to pick up a dust bunny” way. How fun is that?

The person I was talking to happily accepted that definition and then asked me another question that I truly could not answer.

“So, why don’t you put your blogposts up on Facebook? You’re friends must think you’re hilarious!”

*blink*

Truth be known, my “friends” do think I am hilarious. I am one of those chicks that goes straight from the heart to the mouth without a pit-stop at the brain in between. I tend to say whatever I am feeling in my heart at any given moment before my frontal lobe has a chance to say, “Er, CP? That MAY not be appropriate right now.” No. More poor brain is usually the organ that has to do damage control after my heart causes my tongue to flap.

But, yes indeed. WHY don’t I post my blog links on Facebook? Fair enough question.

I think there are a few reasons. First and foremost is privacy. Not MY privacy, mind you, but rather, my husband and children’s privacy. In the five years I have been blogging, I have never mentioned my husbands name. That is not to say that some of you don’t know the mans name. Some of you have met him in “real time”. And, some of you have known me longer than I have known him, so naturally, you would know who he is. Then, there are the select few (read: 3) who read my blog who know me in real life on a day to day basis. Most of my blog readers don’t even know MY name. And, when I meet a blogger in real life, they tend to call me “CP” anyway, because that’s how you know me. But, for the hotband, I have to maintain a modicum of privacy. He has a pretty high profile job and there is a certain decorum that comes with his job.

And then, I look at HIS Facebook page, and he puts up all sorts of horny looking fruit, inappropriate Jesus pics and makes homosexual references with all MY guy friends. So, WHY the hell am I holding back on my blog?

Because…if he wants to put himself out there, that’s his prerogative. I am still going to respect the boundaries, even though he never put any up for me.

Then, there is another aspect I have considered. My Facebook friends vs. My Blogger Friends. Some of you overlap into both categories. I think there are 14 of you, actually, who are “friended” on Facebook but started off knowing me via this blog. My Blog Friends are a much cooler breed. We understand that we can cross certain lines with one another. We know that one year in blog time is the equivalent of 5 years real time. Therefore, I know many of you longer in that sense than I do the people I have been friends with for 20 years or more. And, while my friends of 30 years care about me very much, I don’t think they want to know that I was a domestic violence survivor. I don’t think they care that I survived cancer. I don’t know that they would give a shit one way or another that I struggle with bipolar disorder on a daily basis. And, I believe that most of them would be entirely too judgmental with regard to my drug addiction and subsequent recovery.

So, it begs the question…are these “friends” on Facebook ACTUALLY my friends?

I think in some ways, yes, we are. We have history. We have memories of our childhood and our youth. That’s something that we as adults tend to cling to. My husband, as close as we are, will never understand how I grew up. He doesn’t know what it was like to be a little kid living in NYC no more than I can ever know about his experiences growing up in Israel. It’s nice to have those people in your life that you can reminisce with. It’s fun. But, does it provide a longevity to the relationship? Not really. When I reconnected with some old junior high friends on Facebook, it was a blast. We couldn’t stop talking about growing up in Queens and what it meant to each of us. How it shaped us into the adults we are today. We talked, shared, laughed…and then, burnt it out. While we still engage in some witty banter here and there, do I think any of these people would drop whatever they were doing to be at my side if something traumatic happened in my life?

*sighs* No. No I don’t. Even the person I was closest to growing up has turned her back on me in some aspects. She hides my feed because I am (insert adjective for vulgar, crass, classless, rude, explicit, etc.). And I get it. She’s got her kids on her Facebook. Can’t have me talking about the new lube and vibrators I bought on my status and have it show up on her wall, right? I do get it. That’s also why my son is NOT my Facebook friend…nor are my nephews and nieces. As far as I am concerned, Facebook is NO place for children, period. But, to each their own. My daughter is on my Facebook…but she’s 22, married and knows that her mother is a tad fucked in the head. My son is only first learning that. Why rush it? He’ll get it soon enough.

Which brings me back to the original question. Why don’t I post my blogposts on Facebook? The answer is…I don’t quite know. I suppose there might be a small part of me that is going to wonder what people will think of me, which is ironic because I am definitely one of those people who generally don’t give a fuck what others think of me. But, these are childhood friends who have a certain vision of me, a particular memory that I don’t want to taint. Then again, I suppose true friends would love you regardless and understand that the person you were at 14 is not necessarily the person you are at 40.

Then, there is the BIG reason I don’t post my blog posts on Facebook. My brother. He’s a great guy. He totally knows how screwed up I am. He is equally as fucked in the brain. We were raised by the same woman…and THAT, Dear Friends, is the ULTIMATE reason. The one that trumps all. I simply CANNOT have Esther reading my blog. I love my mother but, if you are a long time reader or know her in real life, you know what an absolute LOONEY TUNE she is. If she ever caught wind of the things that I write about her…she’d kill me. Not figuratively. Literally. Like, I have given instructions to my husband to form my blog into a book posthumously if she ever kills me so everyone knows what an absolute banshee she is/was. Don’t get me wrong. There is a certain beauty to being raised by a psychopath. It allows me to be quirky, strange and crazy. When I tell people I am bipolar, they nod. Then, they meet my mom…and suddenly, they nod emphatically…and it all just comes together for them.

The crazy thing is, I have met such interesting and amazing people on Facebook. People that I do NOT know from my past or that I blog with or know in real life. Simply people who I have met in passing either playing a game or stumbling onto their page. Really great people. I would love to share my blog posts with them…but still, I feel some hesitation and restraint.

*raises brows*

Hesitation? Restraint? Foreign concepts to me that I am STILL getting used to.

So, for right now, I am simply using the website “Networked Blogs” on Facebook as my tiny baby step, my little foray into taking my blog out of hiding. (There’s a link to it on my sidebar. No, lower. Lower. Yeah. Right there. Click it if you’re on Facebook.) I think, in reality, my blog will exist long after my old friendships fall away. This is home for me. This is where I feel best and can relax and be myself.

And, if you can’t be yourself…why be at all?

Soul searching…

I have so many things to blog about right now. So many wonderful, amazing things. My life right now is truly blessed. I can write about my husband, always a source of joy and happiness. I can write about the incredible Mother’s Day I just had. There was my fabulous trip to California where I met some absolutely awesome people who will be in my heart forever. I had the time of my life. I can write about my sons recent school suspension. Sure, not a great thing, but valuable lessons were learned by all. I could write about the new career I am embarking on with my husbands blessing. I am scared, nervous, excited and in awe over this decision I have made.

A million things to write about yet only one thing comes to mind right now.

Forgiveness.

In the past couple of months, I have done some pretty nasty things. Things I am a little ashamed of. I said things that never should have been said. I entrenched myself into lives and hurt people with the quick flashes of an untamed tongue. I allowed a mob mentality to pull me in, suck me under and throw me about in an ocean of ugly.

Dear Readers, be there 6 or 60 of you…when have you ever known that to be me?

I am not a judgmental person. I never have been. I don’t see colors on skin. I embrace everyone’s sexuality and preferences. As long as you are not harming me or mine…just be you. Do your thing. Live your life. Make your good choices. Make your poor choices. Always find your way back to being you after diverting away from that. Second chances. Third chances. Tenth chances. I have always lived my life as the epitome of love, tolerance and acceptance.

I am ashamed of my actions as of late. They are a false and poor representation of who I am, who I have always been. I allowed myself to get pulled into chaos and mob mentality, something I have never experienced before. I don’t like it. There isn’t enough body wash to cleanse it away.

I am not a religious girl, despite embracing my Jewessness. I am a spiritual person. I am a strong believer in karmic retribution both good and bad. You get back what you put out into the universe. It comes back to you in some form or another. Lately, what I have been putting out has not been positive and I am not proud of that. So many beautiful and wonderful things have taken place in my life as of late. This one thing looms heavily in my heart and mind.

I took a step to rectify it today. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but because I needed it for me. I needed to make it right in my mind. I need to put out the right vibes in my world. And, most of all, I need to say I am sorry when I am wrong. I allowed my compassion to be run off and replaced with malignancy and maliciousness. That’s not me. It’s never been me. I hate that girl.

I was wrong. And, I am sorry.

While forgiveness may not be in the stars, I have done what I can to be able to exhale and say, “It will be okay. The people you hurt may not forgive you, CP, but God will.” And right now, that has to be enough for me.

I am flawed. I will falter. I am a work in progress.

The colors are still evolving. The paint on my walls are still wet. But, with every passing day, every passing hour…something beautiful will arise from what I am creating. A better day. A better life.

A better me.

It has to make you laugh at some point…

There are some hugely influential bloggers online. Example? Perez Hilton. Heh. Not an example? This. (Edited to add:) Or this.

It’s awesome to be a legend in ones mind. Truly. I sure as fuck am. With all my flaws and inconsistencies, I still try to grow and evolve as a person constantly. Sometimes, I do it to perfection. Other times, not so much.

What I don’t do is lie to my readers. Never.

Don’t care if there are six of you or sixty of you. Never mattered to me. Never will. (Well, now, in retrospect, that’s not true. I do admit to being a blog whore once upon a time. I gave it up for lent.) Whoever reads this is just as important to me as the next person. And while once upon a time I considered a large readership to be a status symbol, I have definitely grown from that.

What interested me today was that someone asked an “influential blogger” to utilize her blog space to support a charity organization (which I will get to shortly). The person who was supporting the charity was someone who said influential blogger dislikes. However, what in the price of eggs in China does that have to do with you supporting a charity? You have the means, the tools and the time. You blog for several different reader sites. You have FRIENDS who would actually BENEFIT by this program! Military friends! You have the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of so many people…but because you don’t like someone, you reply with “are you fucking kidding me?”

Really?

This is the same “influential blogger” who loves to tell everyone how compassionate and loving she is.

Reality check?

If you have to TELL people you are compassionate and loving? Um, you’re not.

It would be like me having to tell you I’m a bitch. If you can’t surmise that about me in the first 30 seconds of meeting me you are either A)Blind as a fucking wombat or B) Dumb as a box of rocks. There is the third option, of course, that I am simply not doing my job as a bitch. That, however, is highly unlikely.

Now, I don’t mind so much that you turned this blogger down. It’s your blog. You don’t want to expend the energy posting about their charity event…cool. That’s fine. Would have been the nice/right/humane thing to do and given you the chance to show that you are a bigger person, but hell, why do that?

No. What bothered me was someone saying (and I’m paraphrasing here) “She blocked me off of facebook and twitter so now I can say whatever I want without consequences”.

Excuse me?

The blogger that said this to me? Love her. Known her for a long time. Great girl. But really? Consequences? For not liking someone?

What kind of circa 1985 time warp did I fall into here? Are we back in high school? Is there a cool kids table that I don’t know about? Why on earth would there be consequences?

Why? Because there is.

Because said “influential blogger” has a whole lot of sheep “baa-baa’ing” at her heels. Sides have been chosen. It boils down to you either like “US”…or you like “THEM”.

In the past few weeks during “the DRAMA” (didn’t I say I was never going to speak of this again? Heh. C’est la vie. My blog. My rules to break), I have discovered who the sheep really are. There were a lot of mutual friends between US and THEM. It was like a divorce. They got divvied up. Some went to their camp. Some to ours. There have been some who have been “walking the line”, so to speak. In other words, they are trying their damndest to stay neutral and remain friends with all parties.

I respect the FUCK out of those people because, man. I know it surely hasn’t been easy to do.

But, back to consequences.

I, for one, believe for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I am also a believer in karma. A VERY strong believer in karma. Everyone gets their comeuppance eventually. I don’t WISH this on people. It’s just the way the world works.

What a phenomenal thing it would have been for said “influential blogger” to have said, you know what? I think I WILL send out a post about this charity. After all, I have whored out my blog before for lesser things (and honestly, who among us has not?) and this would be a great opportunity for me to show the world that I am so much smaller than the big picture!

No. Instead, we have people worrying about what other people are going to think.

I was at a point earlier this week where I was going to apo-apo-apo…*gags* apologize *cough* for some of the things that I said to and about said blogger. Some of the things I said were cruel and inadvertently directed at a victim of the scenario and not the perpetrators. I felt bad about that. I did. It’s been eating at me.

But then, as Cyndi Lauper so eloquently put it…I see your true colors shining through.

And suddenly, I find myself apathetic as opposed to apologetic.

After all, if nothing changes…nothing changes.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is my Razorblade Tomato for the day.

That said, let me leave you with this:

Think for yourselves. Be yourselves. Don’t worry about what other people think of you. Life is too short for you not to live it to the fullest. Keep yourself raised up. Do for others, not out of pity or obligation, but because it really makes you fill up the happy tank. Stay charitable and humble. Remember when you are in crisis, someone out there has far greater struggles than you. Pain is temporary, ugly is forever.

Be beautiful.

Please. If it meets your life criteria and you can find it in your heart to click, head over to this site and simply vote for this idea to win the Pepsi Refresh Grant. Nothing to buy, no money to give. Just a simple click on a simple idea that will help thousands of veterans.

Thank you.

Her heart in my hands…and I got nothin’.

I am a Jewish woman. We come equipped with a guilt meter that exceeds most peoples. Things make us feel bad, certainly, but we are far better at making YOU feel bad for making US feel bad.

Jewish husbands don’t stand a chance in hell against our powers.

Today, I am feeling guilt. I have a very special girlfriend in my life. We’ve been friends forever, if forever could equal about 14 years. She’s not my best friend. She’s more than that. She’s like a baby sister to me. I am 14 years older than she is…but have learned more from her than I have from most people my own age. I met her in college. She was kind of the odd girl out. Funky colored hair. Weird clothes. Strange taste in music. And I was drawn to her immediately.

We had ZERO in common. She was a kid out of high school. I was a mom of two going back to college for my nursing degree. What I did discover is that she had an absolutely wicked sense of humor, a crazy zest for life and a total “What the fuck ever, Dude” attitude.

In essence, she was me…25 years earlier, before marriage, divorce, kids, career and life got in my way.

Her husband was my husbands best friend. It was such a natural fit. He was kind of eclectic and different. So was she. So when my husband and I started dating, we thought these two would be a match made in heaven. And, as cupid would have it, they were. They were married in 2001, a year before my husband and I were.

Now, we’re both moms. She calls me for parenting advice. I give it to her easily, readily, as her little one is only 6. Mine are 22 and 14. Been there and done that with the 6 year olds. I adore her son. If anything in the world were ever to happen to my girlfriend, I would embrace him as my own without a second thought, making sure he had everything in his life that his mom would ever want for him.

Yesterday, she came over my house with a problem. A marital problem. Was it a huge problem? Well, it depends where you are sitting. But, for her, yes…it was a huge problem. And, for the first time, I had no answers for her. I had some basic advice, things she already knew, because she is hella smart, but nothing concrete. Nothing she could walk away with and feel complete sense of satisfaction. The subject moved onto other things, like politics, imbeciles who can’t understand a health care bill, Ron Paul, Gwar (don’t google that, you’ve been warned) and various other things. Yet still, in the back of my mind, I was a little heartsick that through all the coffee, cigarettes and conversation, I had not “fixed” my friends problem.

She means the world to me. And today, I know she’s home with a headache that more than likely as brought on by stress and sadness. I want to punch her husband really hard in his face. She’s a great woman. An awesome mother. She cooks, she cleans, she works part time, takes care of that baby of theirs…everything that my husband wishes I would do but don’t.

I am feeling a tremendous amount of guilt. Surely there is something I could have done, something I could have said. But, I got nothing. Nothing.

She came to me with her heart in her hands…and I got nothing.

Still, I cling to the little bit of hope that the six hours we spent together talking and laughing brought a bright spot into her day, at least for a little while. I hope she knows she’s loved. I hope she knows she’s cared about.

And most of all, I hope she knows that I would brown bag her husband in a parking lot upon request. Urban dictionary describes “brown baggin'” as putting a bag over an ugly chicks face before banging her. But, New Yorkers know that Brown Baggin’ someone means filling a paper sack full of soda cans and beating someone relentlessly with it, until the bag breaks.

She best know I’d break a nail for her anyday.