The power of "No."

"No" is an interesting concept to me. As children, we were constantly told "no" by our caregivers, whether it's a sudden, shouted "NO!" (usually in the case of danger or irritation) or a gentle, drawn out "nnnoooo..." (usually used with redirection). Naturally, "no" becomes one of a kid's favorite words to repeat over and over until all the adults around him or her feel the urge to repeatedly slam their own heads against whatever solid object is closest. Or jam q-tips into their ears well past the point of resistance to keep from ever having to hear that word again.

But somewhere along the way we are taught that "no" is a word that we should not use, or else people will perceive us as mean, or rude, or selfish. If we do use "no," it's the gentle, drawn out version, usually paired with a grimace, a shrug, an apology, an excuse, or all of the above at the same time. And if there's an excuse, it may or may not be the honest reason.

For example, someone stops by your house unexpectedly. You might say, "Nnnoooooo, I really can't sit and chat with you today... I'm on my way out the door right now. I'm sorry! Maybe some other time!"

And maybe that is an honest reason, and not one that's honest only because you suddenly decided to leave your home rather than face a minute of the company they've forced on you without fucking calling first. The honest reason may be completely different, and may be totally innocent or not so sweet. It could be that you or your house truly are a mess unfit for company, or that you were really into your Weeds marathon on Netflix, or that this person has a nasty habit of frequently stopping by unannounced, bringing bratty kids or irritating pets, not correcting those kids or pets when they are wrecking your shit or piercing your eardrums, and staying all fucking day while saying twelve times an hour "I guess we better get going!"-- and then they DON'T.

I digress. What I was trying to say is that at some point we are taught that the only people who should ever hear the solid "no" are children. Have you ever given someone in day-to-day conversation the quick, firm "No.", with or without an explanation following, and watched them blink really fast, actually stop in their tracks, and maybe physically recoil a little? Dude, you should check it out next time. Some people can be cool about it and shrug it off. They knew that their request was not likely to be met for whatever reason, and they move on. Some people, though, get seriously upset or whiny or whatever when someone tells them "no," and they don't give a shit what your reasoning is, or whether it was that big of a deal in the first place. This is where you might suddenly feel the need to stammer an apology or an excuse, or might find yourself being talked (coerced...) into doing whatever it was they had wanted you to do. In that situation, the initial issue ceases to be the problem--your inability to stick to your guns becomes the problem. Therefore, don't bitch to me about it, because you and I both know it's going to happen every time.

I say unless it's a life-or-death situation, you don't freakin' owe anyone a reason why you're saying "no" if you feel you have a good reason. (Disclaimer: I wouldn't recommend trying this with your boss. That's a good way to get canned PDQ.) And if you have certain requirements you want met in order for you to say "yes" instead, then don't switch to saying "yes" until those requirements are actually met. And for the love of Bob, people, say what you really mean--don't say "no" if you know you don't mean it. Otherwise, "no" will continue to mean absolutely nothing, people will continue to feel like they are taken advantage of, and I may find the need to post another long gripe posed as a theoretical discussion. I know there's more to say on the subject, but I've digressed from the point quite enough.

Any thoughts?        (I mean on the topic of "no," asshole, not on my tendency to ramble.)

On confidence.

Sometimes I think my greatest accomplishment in life so far has been making the majority of people around me believe that I'm much more "together" and able to do things than I actually am.

It always amazes me when someone gives me a task, wants me around, or just leaves me to fend for myself, saying "I know you can handle it, and that you'll do a good job." (And trust me, I know the difference between someone honestly meaning it and someone trying to get out of doing something.) I feel like I *never* know what the hell I'm doing, but I try to be a good sport about it, I guess...

My method is to either behave with total smiling confidence ("Never let 'em see you sweat, kid!") or joking, apologetic, over-exaggerated self-deprecation. Oddly enough, both methods are generally received in the same manner--smiles and acceptance of me. Granted, I know that sometimes people are lying through their teeth when they force out a "You're doing just fine! I don't hate you!", but I also know when that is happening and can handle it. Even when I don't know what the hell I'm doing, I know I'm going to try my best. Even if I've noticed I don't really even have to try my best for people to believe I am. Still, I do my best (...most of the time), because I'm also horrid at getting away with anything. I spent most of my childhood not even trying to get away with misbehavior, because no matter what I always got caught. I also spent most of my childhood terrified of my mother, because she's just that good.

In any case, my theory is that confidence (not the arrogant or cocky kind of confidence, either) and a strong sense of humor can take you a long way, even when deep down (or even just below the surface...) you're absolutely panic-stricken. Because in reality, most people are too wrapped up in their own fear of their own inadequacies being discovered to look below the surface to search out yours. And confidence is something that if you fake it enough, it may eventually sink in a little. Before you know it, when you know someone has tried to get the best of you, that confidence coupled with the aforementioned sense of humor keeps it from ever getting close to causing too much damage.



*coughs* ...Says the chick taking anti-depressants (but taking anti-depressants confidently, with panache). 

My evolution of taste--in music, that is.

So it's been a while since I posted anything new... again. Sorry about that.

Moving on!

I've always been a big fan of music. Yeah, I know, most people are big fans of music, and it has played a major effect on many a person throughout different phases of their lives. Especially the teenage years. But I'm not here to talk about most people right now, I'm focusing on myself for this particular post, and if you're reading this then so are you. Eat it. You can get back to focusing on yourself or whoever else you feel like thinking about after you're finished reading my ramblings.

--Random interjection--Just had to put out there that I just now saw on TV an old clip where three men were chasing a seal around an office. It was flopping around on a desk, then flopped off. End of clip. I'm just minding my own business, then look up, and *seal*. I love this planet, and The Marx Brothers.

As I was saying. I've always been a big fan of music. It has played a major effect on me throughout my life. :)  I popped my concert cherry at a very young age when The Mom took me to a Restless Heart concert. After that it was a while, but over time I went to quite a few country concerts with the family, then rock concerts with friends. I've been to about 12 concert events (one was a 3-day festival) that I can think of, and counting up the bands that I've seen at those events is more thought than I'm willing to put into this right now. But I know I'd very much like to increase that number. I used to sing (and dance...) along to the 21 Jump Street theme song, and according to The Mom I answered Jeopardy! questions about theme songs to my favorite shows. Unlike some, I enjoyed music classes in elementary school, and in middle school surprised everyone--including myself--when I tried out for a solo part for one of our Christmas concerts. I totally got a solo, and rocked it. In 7th grade I tried out for a spot in the high school choir, and got it. I loved singing so much, and was good enough at it, some of my friends would have me sing songs for them any time we were hanging out. I loved it. I was devastated when we moved and the high school I started at didn't have a choir.

In middle school I also graduated from the country and classic rock that my family listened to into the boy-band/"grown-up" Mickey Mouse Clubbers era of pop music. I was too late for New Kids On The Block, but just in time for Backstreet Boys, and even then I was enough of a "hipster" to be skeptical when N'Sync came out, because "Clearly, they sound just like Backstreet!" I even briefly loved Hanson. Le sigh. Note: These fascinations only lasted through their first go-round of singles, but that's still hardly acceptable. However, I also listened to a lot of the other stuff that was on the radio, mostly that awesome selection of mid-to-late 90s alternative music. I was relentlessly tortured by people with better taste in music, but why? They didn't give anyone else a hard time. I was terrified of a goth-ish older kid that happened to ride the bus with me (we lived in a rural area) who wore all black, listened to Marilyn Manson and filed his fingernails to a point. For some reason he took particular pleasure in shocking me and giving me a hard time. (And I'm not just being all "Oooh, he wore black, he's scary," he actually did extremely creepy and inappropriate things around me, leading to my terror.) But again, why me? Were they trying to speed up my inevitable musical evolution?

It took a while, but it happened. First, though, I had to be introduced. Oddly enough, the song that broke the spell was Three Doors Down's "Kryptonite," and it all started over a radio battle with a then-step-brother. See, it's one of those songs that played on the mix stations that play a little bit of everything current and on the rock stations. I would sit in the living room, generally on the computer (Our family was still rocking the MS-DOS at that point!! We were ALWAYS way behind everyone in tech, until I moved out of course.) listening to the radio or whatever I felt like putting in the 6-disc CD changer. So then at some point The Step Brother would come in, change it to the local rock station, then inevitably leave the room. I'd get up and change it back, then he'd come back in, repeat repeat repeat.

Then I noticed that my new favorite song "Kryptonite" was playing more on his station than mine, so I started leaving it alone to wait for it to play again, because you KNOW that when a song is popular it's in heavy rotation. (Does anyone still do that??) Or I'd flip back and forth myself until I heard it on one, then put it on the other until I heard it there. Because I'm obsessive like that, and radio stations are predictable like that. Eventually I found that I was actually listening to and liking a whole lot more of the songs on the rock station than the ones on the mix station. For me, history was made.

After briefly dabbling in DMX and Dr. Dre, and inevitably Eminem and a whole bunch of really random stuff, I settled more firmly in the "rock" category, getting progressively harder the older I got... Incidentally around the same rate the symptoms of depression started showing up. Listening to A Perfect Circle definitely provided a muse for a number of art projects of mine. Then there was the Dashboard Confessional stage, but that's a whole 'nother story. I still like a wide range of random, but for the most part it's alternative, rock, metal, and punk. The only stipulation I have is that I like some sort of melody in there somewhere. I don't really like to listen to only screaming/growling all the time. I need some actual sort of singing, even if it isn't the best voice doing it, and even if it's not in every song of theirs. I really don't like much rap or R&B, and although I was raised on country I can't listen to too much of it at once anymore.

I've gone through some downright sickening musical phases, but all-in-all I'm happy with where I ended up. Even if every Bruno Mars song makes me smile, so does every Operation Ivy and Mushroomhead song. So to The Step-Brother who I hated for reasons I may never publicize, thank you for the radio battles. And to that creepy kid whose name I remember but will not use here--I've loved Marilyn Manson for years now. I hope you stopped tormenting others, and didn't end up in jail.    

On dickish behavior.

Tonight at work I was faced with a situation that irked me a bit. I won't bore you with the details, but the gist of the conversation consisted of someone acting out of spite (and likely a healthy dose of laziness) while expressing fake indignation at "needing" to do so.

Come on, now, you know your ass wasn't going to be working hard whether someone pissed you off or not.

Unfortunately, this is a conversation I have all too frequently with some coworkers, and of course people I know *outside* of work.

My argument is (and yes, I use it with the people saying these things, too!), how does you being a dick in return help the situation any? Ever. The only thing that happens is that everyone gets progressively pissier, and more and more defensive of their dickish behavior, until all things productive and helpful have come to a complete standstill, because inevitably they try to get others involved in proving their own righteousness in being a bigger dick.

This situation is typically made worse by the tendency of the individuals involved in the dickish-behavior contest to not actually say a damn word to each other about it. Because, of course, "They know what they did!" So instead of saying honestly, "Hey, you did (or didn't do) _________, and it seriously pissed me off. What the hell?", and opening up a *conversation* with the person they're pissed at, they modify their own behavior in a way that makes things more difficult for that person. Then they feel the need to tell someone what they did and why, expecting applause or pats on the back or pursed-lipped "Mmmhmm!"s. And you know what? They get it. Almost every damn time. So now while the "target" of the "retaliation" may or may not realize in the first place they did something that irritated someone else, they sure notice that they are being mistreated in some way and now there's a crowd of people taking sides in this dickish-behavior contest (that, again, they may or may not have known they were involved in). At that point? Game on.

Unless, of course, one of the parties involved realizes that what is going on is only going to escalate way beyond the original point of irritation, and does something to stop it. This is perhaps how some marriages go from dirty socks on the floor to divorce.  

In any case, my main point is this: How about rather than matching them step by step with dickish behavior, try "killing them with kindness." Or honesty. And if you REALLY want to get their goat? Be genuine about it. And I'm not even being a smartass here--I'm being totally serious. If you continually show that you are a decent person who works hard and just tries to do what's right, you'll find yourself in these dickish-behavior contests a lot less often, and when you do get tangled into one it most likely won't last as long. Nothing is lost by taking the high road once in a while, when you know what that low road is going to bring. Because seriously? You're just making more work for yourself by playing these kinds of games.

Productivity is for losers.

Chocolate chip cookies at 5:30 in the morning? Why yes, I think so. And they taste just as fabulous as I thought they would.

I had the most lovely 3-day holiday weekend, which included a trip to the theater to see "Bridesmaids" (a movie that was exactly what I needed at the moment and I'd love to go see again and again), a night spent ripping drywall and flooring out of the house (well, mostly I watched and played with our favorite stray kitty), house hunting, and a wonderful amount of time spent with that husband of mine.

Of course since this was such an active, busy weekend for us the temperature decided that it was time to stop fucking around already and we spent the whole time sweating balls. This led me to reiterate my rule that our next house needs to have central air. Please. I'm tired of having one liveable room, with the rest being a sauna in the summer and an icebox in the winter. I'd try and include fall and spring, but fall and spring here are a joke. I think we had some nice spring-like days in February, before the temps dropped back down to "icicles hanging from your eyebrows," then swung back up to "Don't you DARE sit next to me, it's too hot for that shit!", and then back down to frigid.

In any case, I didn't work  last night, but went to bed "early" because we have an appointment at 3:15 to see what kind of home loan we can qualify for, so we can start narrowing down our search for a house and get serious about it. Unfortunately, despite having taken a sleeping pill to hopefully help me sleep through the night, I still woke up on our rapidly-deflating air mattress, my left side actually touching the floor, and forced the hubby to instinctively cover his junk in his sleep as I stepped over him to head to the bathroom at 2:30 A.M, only about 4 hours later. After the quick pee, I tossed and turned on the floor/sad excuse for an air mattress trying to get back to sleep, but as I now look at the clock it says it's 6:25 and I'm blogging.  This is only a little bit by choice... If I could choose, I'd be drooling on my memory foam pillow right now, but if I'm cursed with insomnia like this I'll gladly share my misery with any poor fool bored enough to read about it. I think this week we'll be taking the little bit of money we have saved up and will buy an actual mattress. If THAT deflates we'll know it's time to re-think our diets, and possible contact an exorcist.

CH-CH-CH-CHANGES!!

...Or not.

You know how when something is supposed to happen, and then it doesn't happen like they said it would, and you feel stupid for listening to rumors about it? Harold Camping's followers do (HA!), but I didn't even realize the similarity between their plight and mine until I just now typed that out. It makes me feel even MORE stupid for making such a mountain out of a molehill when their mountain out of a molehill was a much bigger deal, for them AND for pop "cult-ure" history. Here I am worrying about a job-related change, when they were all worried (actually they seemed pretty damn excited) about the end of the world. Probably excited at the demise of us heathens.

Anyhoo, hooray for positive sorts of letdowns! As in "Hey, that wasn't as bad as I was being led to believe it was!" Am I being vague enough for you about the job-related non-change? Because it doesn't really matter. It's THAT MUCH not a big deal. It's only a big deal when you build things up in your head before you know what the hell's going on. This is normally not even something I do, but with everything going on in my life right now it's my first instinct to jump to the worst-case scenario. Now I'm lookin' like a fool with those beliefs on the ground.

That's really all I have to say for now. Actually, I have lots to say--as always--but I'm going to try to keep these things more topic-focused when a specific topic is indicated in the title. (See? This post is all about "Change." Or a lack of it. But see, even "lack of change" still fits the general topic becau... *stopthatnow*)

Now I'm going to go to bed, because it's starting to seem like that "third wind" of energy I caught may have had a hint of nitrous oxide, causing a headache and a serious case of the sillies.

If.

IF I were to open a restaurant (Never happening.), here would be some of the items listed on the menu.

• "The Most Amazing Dish Ever": If you ask what it is, you don't get to order it.
• "Something Really Awesome, If You're Into Sandwiches"
• "The SURPRISE! Appetizer Platter": Assorted meats, cheeses and vegetables of similar sizes and shapes dipped in batter and fried, all on one plate.
• "Soup! You'll Have What We Have." No substitutions.
• "Random Meat On A Stick": We promise it's most likely safe.
• "The Heartstopper": Don't worry... It's JUST a burger... We swear. ["OHMYGAWDDIDTHATJUSTMOVE??"]
• "Roasted Squirrel Even Better Than Your Grandma Used To Make"
• "All Day Bacon." Includes a glass of lemonade with just a *hint* of bacon, and free refills. [Update: Imagine my horror when I discovered Denny's Bacon Sundae]

The name of the restaurant would most likely be "Questions." I think it has a nice ring to it, don't you? By the way, if you steal this idea, I will hunt you down, paper your house with pages from War And Peace, and sit next to your windows with a stereo blasting Rebecca Black's "Friday". All day, every day. Although I might have to hire someone else to do that part of it, because honestly it'd be just as torturous to me. See? You're costing me money.

I could be the only one in the world that deals with this, but I doubt it.

For all the other married chicks out there... Anytime you have a conversation with a dude and he finds out you're married, does that kill the conversation and any future possibility of conversation or even *gasp* friendship almost immediately? Does this same phenomenon occur if you're not married, but in a relationship?
For all the dudes out there, married, divorced, in a relationship, single, whatever... Do you really ALWAYS think we were interested in you like *that* in the first place??

This is something that has truly pissed me off from the first time it happened to me. You see, I've always gotten along well with guys. I was raised around guys, I have a "guy" sense of humor, and things are generally more relaxed and goofy with guys than it is with girls. (Of course, this is by NO MEANS a blanket statement applying to all females--I've got some seriously awesome girl friends--they know who they are!!--who aren't all-gossip-no-goofballing, and I value those friendships probably more than they'll ever know.) And it's not what you might think--I'm not the super-flirty chick that hangs around guys for attention. Trust me, I know the difference. In fact, I didn't have a lot of boyfriends growing up because I was always considered "one of the guys." I was always someone they joked around with, not someone they'd seriously consider dating. So that's where I'm coming from with all this.

This is why it hurts and makes me absolutely furious when someone I've been joking around with now has nothing to do with me, and won't even hardly look at me. It's not like I was looking for a new best friend or anything, but what the hell?! All the sudden, since you know there's no chance of fucking me, I'm not worthy of your time, even a "Hey, how's it going?" Honey, there was no chance of that in the first place. And I have a HUSBAND, not THE PLAGUE. I'm sure "marriage" isn't going to rub off on you if you stand too close to a cool freakin' chick (if I do say so myself!) who happens to be married.

This just really makes me re-think my defense of guys and their sometimes douchecanoe-y behavior. It really seems to prove that guys and girls really can't be friends, but cheese-and-rice don't people usually at least make an effort to not make it so damn obvious what's going on?

Hey man, we work at the same place. We're gonna see each other occasionally. You think I'm not gonna remember the way you just treated me? Fuck you. I'm a human being, not a target for you to try and aim your dick at.

I'm tired of this shit. And everyone there still keeps on wondering why I'm so quiet, why I never fucking smile, why I'm not appearing to be absolutely fucking thrilled to be there. Guess what? Even though I am dealing with some serious depression right now... I smile a lot. I talk a lot. I joke around a lot. I laugh a lot. Ask *anyone* who knows me. You're just not worthy of it anymore.

I think I'll start opening conversations with new people--guys, anyway--with "Hi! I'm [actual name here]. I'm married. Go ahead and pretend you never spoke to me now, since I'm pretty sure that's how this works." Then I'll walk away, so I don't get pissed to see them do it first. Otherwise, they might try to laugh it off and pretend that wasn't going to be the case... But then that'll still end up being the only conversation we have.

But some part of me still feels like that's a bunch of bullshit. How the hell am I supposed to handle this kind of thing?? I am totally *flabbergasted* by this. Am I doing something wrong? I've never been one to hide behind the husband, using him as an excuse to not have to meet and deal with obnoxious people. Although I prefer someone else initiating conversations, I really do like meeting or just talking to people, even if it really doesn't seem like it. Am I taking it too personally? Never mind, I know I am, but it seems impossible for me to just let it go. Please help! What am I supposed to do in these situations?