Complications

This week’s headlines were flooded with the news that Prince Harry used drugs and alcohol to cope with his mother’s death. Gasp! Are we that desperate for news from the Royals? Most people use drugs and alcohol to get through a Tuesday so I’m failing to to comprehend the shock and awe. I’d be more surprised if he did it sober. Granted he was 12 when Diana was killed which seems a bit young but then I think about it and I had my first beer when I was 11. I wasn’t showing up to family dinner three sheets to the wind or anything but, yeah. And if you’re over there thinking – 11?! – please keep in mind that I do not like being told what to do or that I can’t have something. Try that out sometime, see how it goes for you. If it hadn’t been so off limits, I wouldn’t have been so interested. I haven’t had booze in 22 days I’ll be real – you put a bottle of wine and a cupcake in front of me and I’d choose the cupcake. I am also being a stand up citizen of the United States of America and serving jury duty this week despite my efforts to be excused and believe me, I tried. So far, I’m in the clear. I don’t think anyone wants a middle aged white girl on their jury anyways. I remember the last time I served, during break I went outside and this woman was chain-smoking, telling me how excited she was to be there, just desperate to be chosen. Meanwhile I’m racking my brain thinking how I’m going to get out of it if I do get chosen. It was just one of those perfect moments in life where you realize people find purpose and inspiration in what you find dull and taxing and the world made sense for a minute. Yin Yangs, man. We need them. And waterbeds. Let’s bring back waterbeds.

So after last week’s blog I did some recon on female serial killers and let me tell you – do not invoke the rage of a woman. Elizabeth Bathory tortured and killed more than 600 women – virgins to be specific – and then drank and bathed in their blood in hopes of eternal youth. Her fascination with blood gave her a reputation as a vampire. Amelia Dyer was a Victorian serial killer who murdered hundreds of infants. She was known as the baby farmer. She adopted unwanted children for money and then killed them. I mean there aren’t a ton of lady killers out there but the ones that are – sheer wack-a-doos. The only one I’d heard of was Aileen Wuornos whose story is portrayed in Charlize Theron’s Monster. Not a lot of modern day female serial killers of note but listen – we are very smart, meticulous creatures. Too good to get caught. They’re all probably still at large because men will kill strangers left and right and do a sloppy job of it while a woman will plan the demise of a loved one for years. And while there is no record or proof of any recently, I have suspicions. The Smiley Face Killer(s), which is still unsolved, connects 45 murders over a 20 years span in 11 different states that are made to look like accidental drownings. All men. In my semi-professional opinion, it doesn’t seem to be hulk-ragey enough to be a man/men. Seems much more methodical, vengeful and precise. I wouldn’t be surprised is all. That’s my conclusion of 2021 coverage on female serial killers.

I’ve been very frustrated in the last few weeks. With people, with my own feelings, with life. I’m a fixer. If there is conflict, and inevitably there will be, I want it gone. I can’t sleep if my heart isn’t at rest. The eclipse the other night had me up till 5AM staring at the ceiling like I was in the Queen’s Gambit. I live by a strict ‘never go to bed with negative energy’ policy. In theory it’s served me well. But you get to an age when you realize, some things cannot be fixed. Some matters are beyond our reach. Some things are unfixable. There’s absolutely nothing you can do. It’s in the universe’s hands and no amount of laughter can help. And for me, that is a hard pill to swallow. I use humor as a defense mechanism often. I think growing up in a family of 7, that was crucial to my survival. I can find humor in almost everything…almost. But certain things aren’t funny at all. It’s a very helpless feeling for me which isn’t in my repertoire. Like how Buffy felt when she had to face The First in the final season – out of her element and consequently making extremely questionable romantic decisions. See? There I am. But there are some feelings you can’t articulate because if you found the words, it would make it all real. And I know I’m talking in a lot of generalities and all vague like some teenager’s facebook status but if this is resonating with anyone, you get it. Life gets complicated. Or should I say life is complicated – I suppose it’s a matter of the cards you’re dealt and when you realize but it’s just how it is. You have your whole sea of emotions and then you have to try and blend that with someone else’s and all the fish in their ocean, so now you’re trying to make all the fish behave and some of them want to kill each other and others don’t know how to share and then there’s that one fish who thinks about nobody but him/herself and there’s a whole school of others who won’t speak to anyone outside of their social circle and then you sprinkle in mother nature, religion, politics and disease before realizing you synced up with the wrong ocean and now you’re trying to decide whose water goes where and which parts were yours and who gets what fish (sigh)…maybe I’ll take the bottle of wine.

Again, that’s life. She’s a dirty, messy thing. Shit happens. People are going to hurt your feelings. Things won’t always go your way and you don’t get to dictate how other people get to feel. Sometimes the universe is all you got…and I have trust issues. I am not perfect. I am the least perfect. I’m an eternal work in progress. Some days I hate myself. Some days are better. I rarely feel beautiful. I constantly search for flaws within myself. I am so used to failing sometimes I wonder if I know how to succeed. I am learning and putting effort in everyday to try to love myself the way I love others. I am terrible at following my own advice. Who’s not? If I did all the things I should do, my life would look very different. But I do try and a wise man once said ‘that’s all you can do’. If you’re going to tune in every week and look for ways I’ve failed and reasons to hate me – you’ll find them. If you’re here to be offended – you will be. I have opinions and things to say that come from a perspective only I know and you don’t have to agree with them – in fact, I hope you don’t. I prefer a world of different opinions. I find disagreement elevates conversation if done correctly. The point being, I created this space for laughter, positivity, love, relatability, honest conversation and candid thoughts on life. This isn’t a fact-checked detailed how-to segment. It’s a weekly photograph of what’s going on in my life and the thoughts that currently reside in my head. She’s a maniac. Hope you can keep up. Happy Memorial Day Weekend. Have a drink or 20 for me. Xx

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