tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49737800944552073582024-03-05T20:38:16.846-05:00IdiosynCRAZY!Welcome to my wild and crazy mind! I love my family, photography, crafts, food, decorating and writing. I have combined them all here. I have learned to embrace my imperfections. Chaos makes life quite funny. Thank you for entering my world. I love reading comments so don't be shy!IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-29859267843474861142017-03-06T20:48:00.000-05:002017-03-06T20:48:15.134-05:00Unspoken LoveMind, body and soul. Intimacy, passion and commitment. Someone once told me that the right person for you had to have<br />
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Shared mentality, shared ideals and physical chemistry.</div>
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I have yet to find that trifecta. At least in the case where it's mutual.</div>
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The triangular theory of love. </div>
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I have been with people that that I am absolutely attracted to but we don't share the same ideals but we share the same hobbies. </div>
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Selfishness, inconsideration. Lack of commitment.</div>
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Is avoiding commitment selfish? Is it unfair to spend time with someone that you can't see yourself romantically with.</div>
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Am I not affectionate enough?</div>
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Is he capable of love?</div>
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Is this just friendship.</div>
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If it is, I would like to believe I would be okay with that. But when you want to spend more time with that person, when it hurts to part ways; is it safe to say that you want more than friendship?</div>
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Does that make me needy? Or is nothing ever enough.</div>
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What if I get more interaction time.</div>
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Maybe he's just scared you don't feel the same way.</div>
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So you start being more open, more supportive, less aggressive. Then you voice that fact that you are actually doing it. </div>
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But you don't get a response.</div>
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You stare fondly at him but he barely even looks at you in the eye when he speaks to you.</div>
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Maybe he really is just not that into you.</div>
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Maybe you both feel the same.</div>
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Maybe neither of you are ready.</div>
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This could be considered romantic love.<br />
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Written April 2016</div>
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IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-16498237706854346872016-06-19T21:56:00.001-04:002016-06-19T21:56:31.221-04:00Reflection, meditation, Catharsism<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAZP7W-PN_GLwktBf2x6gZkihvRj4oNSIzf2nENVVVMeBayzF5lIuqrLX8djVIRMQFexqcqpHRWFEYbWYmWUVJ2SJouRm_-Y8cnk-aOOuEon1uwg66d5bhyphenhyphen_0Jd0O8spee4nb9kFFR6Y/s1600/title+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAZP7W-PN_GLwktBf2x6gZkihvRj4oNSIzf2nENVVVMeBayzF5lIuqrLX8djVIRMQFexqcqpHRWFEYbWYmWUVJ2SJouRm_-Y8cnk-aOOuEon1uwg66d5bhyphenhyphen_0Jd0O8spee4nb9kFFR6Y/s400/title+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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After a rough emotional start to my Sunday I decided that I was in need of a loooooong relaxing bath. I knew I needed to relax to ease my mind of the million negative thoughts that raced through that brain of mine. It was the best Idea I have had.<br />
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As I listened to Elizabeth Gilbert in the Indian portion of her book, aka the "Pray" part, I found I wasn't doing much relaxing. Which is ironic because she was having a tough time quieting her mind as well. There were things she would say that reminded me of where I was in my life. Situations I am dealing with. Most importantly there were things I was over analyzing.<br />
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Eventually my mind found some peace. If only for a a split second. What happened next was beautiful but most people would find weird. Laying there in my purest form made me think about rawness which made me think about realness and honesty.<br />
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Looking at my wrinkly fingers made me think what a stunning image that would be. So I grabbed my phone an took this photo.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ASt5-R9JPqBQpQCj2gLZdEUxWntDjJtEckQxrJXJJkxQ8MygBBq4ga_RK4k9OsgQnnz4d-Vc9V8lMVQY1_qX-60YOo9yD9T1N85hluQDnR76tHJrUAGzyawhPvMBXjazG0E1sujWqO8/s1600/blog+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ASt5-R9JPqBQpQCj2gLZdEUxWntDjJtEckQxrJXJJkxQ8MygBBq4ga_RK4k9OsgQnnz4d-Vc9V8lMVQY1_qX-60YOo9yD9T1N85hluQDnR76tHJrUAGzyawhPvMBXjazG0E1sujWqO8/s320/blog+1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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After that photo I noticed my dingy tub fixtures.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZYIbe5KXGxi8iiuNyQFmyy8vBr93SHBwQy2TQaodVL7HNteG3dEdnY91jLbnijq7PmhSWkPb-MrkGv34ge727OjsPnqvmwf6IDtN-qXxXyuk0xWEVaVGQY7WGhhRkMjT17keEVrzo64/s1600/dilapidated+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZYIbe5KXGxi8iiuNyQFmyy8vBr93SHBwQy2TQaodVL7HNteG3dEdnY91jLbnijq7PmhSWkPb-MrkGv34ge727OjsPnqvmwf6IDtN-qXxXyuk0xWEVaVGQY7WGhhRkMjT17keEVrzo64/s320/dilapidated+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I imagined those are the original handles and spout from when my apartment was first built in the 80's. What intrigued me was that I found beauty in that dilapidated faucet. That's who I've always been. The person that sees beauty in the mundane and peculiar, The person that can tell you that the mere fact that this object being old and neglected made me ponder about bigger and deeper things that are sometimes ignored, neglected and discarded.<br />
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After snapping a few photos of in animate objects I decided to take a self portrait that turned into thetitle photo for this blog. It is not mean to be vain, nor erotic. I simply thought it was a beautiful self portrait in my purest form. I want to shatter the wall of vulnerability. What better way than exposing myself to the world this way. I share it artistically and dramatically. I hope everyone else can see that its a simple self portrait of a human in her most raw intimate way. Rene Brown, Elizabeth Gilbert and Amy Poehler all contributed to this new found courage. They inspire me to expose myself in all aspects of life.<br />
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Cleansing the body, the mind and the soul.<br />
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This last set of self new age portraits were simply for fun. But after looking at it I realized how different these filters make people look. I hope all women in the world realize that they are always most beautiful in their simple natural form, despite what social media has them believe. One is my natural self portrait...It's pretty easy to point out.<br />
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<br />IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-9135809531900175202016-05-19T23:12:00.000-04:002016-05-19T23:12:27.697-04:00Parenting: The battle between Bruce Banner and The Hulk<div class="MsoNormal">
Just like Bruce Banner, my emotional reactions are almost
impossible contain. When I experience any form of discomfort, anxiety or rage…I
turn as green as Nickelodeon’s extinct slime! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My most recent episode came yesterday when I decided to
check on my 11 year old’s grades and found out he had a D in mathematics. Now
before you judge me, let me give you a little background information on our
current school year situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have raised my children to care about their grades. I have
explained to them that grades are not a true measure of their intelligence. However,
when it comes to our education system, they are extremely important because it
is the way society measures intelligence, work ethic and effort. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I do not demand straight A’s. “Tiger mom” is not a title I hold.
I am more of a Liger mom; the balance between hippie mindset and structured
discipline. A’s and B’s are acceptable. I do not accept Mediocrity, which is
what I refer to as C’s. This entire school year however has been a battle with
getting C’s due to assignments not turned in or careless mistakes and not
rechecking their work. This year I chose to give my 11 year old responsibility
for his own grades. I let go of checking
everything piece of homework and every single assignment and product. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I checked grades 3 times a marking period and had a review
on why they were slipping. When he told me it was because he didn’t understand
the material I made sure I was available to go over anything he didn’t
understand. In December, Santa bought Jayden a new special edition Xbox One.
Santa wrote a note that unless grades improved, said Xbox could not be opened….
5 months later… the Xbox is <b><u><i>STILL </i></u></b>in the unopened box. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Fast forward to yesterday. I go to check grades and find
that he has a D in mathematics. The D was due to a 5 page assignment that was
graded individually and he got a range of C’s-F’s on each one! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Enter the hulk. I yelled to the top of my lungs</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“WHAT THE
HELL IS THIS JAYDEN!!!!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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I lost any ounce of patience that I had left. I saw
red and turned green. The exact things I said are a bit of a blur to me. I may
have even used profanity. It was not my proudest moment but I lost all self-control.
Emotions tend to do that to me. All forms of entertainment have been banned
from now until the end of the school year. No TV, no playing with toys, no
Electronics unless they are for educational purposes, no going over friends’
houses, <b>NO FUN OF ANY KIND IS ALLOWED</b>…Monday through Friday. He is to come home
from school, redo failed assignments and complete I-ready. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This evening when I came home I was still fuming. But after
guitar practice and homework review with Tristan I decided to watch some Ted Talks. I
encountered a Colin Powell Ted Talk about children needing <a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/colin_powell_kids_need_structure?language=en" target="_blank">structure</a>. My first instinct
when my child fails is that somehow I am failing. I wanted to know if structure
is somehow missing in Jayden’s life. I will always blame myself for my children
failing. I once judged a close relative for stating “My children failing in
life is not my fault, I did my part as a parent providing them with every opportunity.”
Jayden was only in Kindergarten at that point so that statement seemed absurd
to me. My first thought was, “no, you failed to provide structure for your
children.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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My takeaway from the Colin Powell speech was that even when
kids have structure they can still have mediocre grades in school. Apparently
Colin Powell was a straight "C" student his entire life but somehow was extraordinary
at following orders and eventually he became extraordinary at giving orders and
managed to reach the highest rank in the military.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I decided to have Jayden watch the Ted talk with me. I had
to summarize the speech for him to explain my analysis of it. I reiterated that
it’s not the fact that he has a “D” that bothers me. Rather the fact that I
know he is better than that. I told him it is ok to fail, but it is not ok to
accept failure as an ultimate outcome. His teacher always tells her students:
FAIL stand for First Attempt in Learning. It’s a wonderful message, but my
first reaction to failing has always been to get overemotional and over react
and release THE HULK. I usually need a day to return to my Bruce Banner alter
ego. I return the same way as the comic book character always does, tattered,
disoriented and filled with shame and guilt. But once I dust myself off, it is
back to work to find the solution to my <a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/jennifer_senior_for_parents_happiness_is_a_very_high_bar" target="_blank">parenting </a>hurdles: Which are just as
complicated and difficult as physics and calculus.<o:p></o:p></div>
IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-69074003279121984882016-04-27T04:51:00.000-04:002016-04-27T04:51:24.664-04:00What is love? A question that took 2 years to answer.<br />
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Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me...no more. If you didn't start singing that then you and I can't be friends.<br />
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In one of our deep conversations my friend V asked me "what is your idea of being loved?"<br />
"How did your husband make you feel loved?"<br />
Once again the answer didn't come easily to me.<br />
"If you don't know where you're going then how are you going to get there." That statement repeats over and over in my head.<br />
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Quite honestly, I don't even know what love is anymore. It took me 2 months to come up with an idea of what being loved means to me. I just wanted someone who I looked forward to seeing after a long day at work. Someone who would be just as excited to see me when I walked in the door.<br />
V graciously responded with.. "So you want a dog." It was funny but no, I don't want a dog.<br />
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It has now been 4 months since her question. I was afraid to answer her question then because I felt that my idea of love was too extravagant. I feel loved<br />
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1) When someone shares the same ideologies with me.<br />
2) When someone "gets me".<br />
3) When people find my quirks endearing.<br />
4) When someone feels connected to me.<br />
5) When someone values my opinion.<br />
6) When a genuine interest is displayed<br />
7) When someone cares enough to force me off a slump.<br />
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I started this post back in July of 2014... Almost two years ago. That means that for the past two years I have not given love any thought. I literally put love on hold. At least that's the case for romantic love. The past 2 years have been all about self love and family love. But I am ready. I am ready for romantic love again.<br />
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I actually have been thinking about it for quite some time. It wasn't until I saved a Ted-Ed video that I realized how much thought I had really given it:<br />
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My two favorite theories:</div>
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1) Bertrand Russel 1872-1970</div>
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"Love is escape from our loneliness.</div>
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Our fear of the cold cruel world temps us to build hard shell to protect and isolate ourselves. Love's delight, intimacy, and warmth helps us overcome our fear of the world, escape our lonely shell and engage more abundantly in life. Love enriches our whole being...."</div>
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I truly believe that the right love does help us engage more abundantly in life. Love does help conquer our fear of the world. I know for a fact that I am more courageous when I have someone else besides me. </div>
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2) Simone De Beauvoir 1908-1986<br />
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"Love lets us reach beyond ourselves.<br />
Love is the desire to integrate with another. Love infuses our life with meaning."<br />
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Loving authentically... what a concept! That's exactly that kind of love I want. That's the only love I would accept. My goal is to find that person that I can enrich my life and the world with.<br />
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<br />IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-51785185436568331022015-12-29T18:31:00.001-05:002015-12-29T18:31:10.463-05:00(Mistake)^2Joke of the year: Our trip to NYC was very eventful. I did not only miss one flight... No. I have to challenge myself and miss two flights. How do I feel? A little embarrassed? Obviously. But I don't feel a dark cloud of shame and regret that normally consumes me when things don't go my way. The highlight of me missing my flights? I got to see my two brothers come to my rescue. One will never speak of the event again unless I bring it up the other won't let me forget it.<div><br></div><div>I wanted to write about it to get over the embarrassment of the whole thing. In reality people miss their flights everyday. We are only human. Was I a little negligent ... Maybe. I relied on my kids not dropping my wallet of the floor when they were searching for their headphones the first flight I missed and I relied on my memory for the second flight. Ce la vie. I have given people something to talk about. Because one thing I've learned is that people like tend to focus on others' flaws and mistakes to forget theirs. So I'll let those people make their comments and throw their jabs because deep down those people don't know how to be happy if they are not criticizing others. <div><br></div><div>Another reason why I am writing this is to remind myself that just like I make mistakes my children will make mistakes. Instead of loosing my cool I will learn to be more understanding about their mistakes. Even as adults we can make the same mistake twice. </div></div>IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-575551544923410092015-11-18T02:52:00.000-05:002016-01-21T23:00:38.273-05:00To Medicate or Not to medicate...<div>...that is the question!</div><div><br></div>I am an adventurous soul at heart. Trying new things excite me. The outside sources and the journey to these new experiences scare me half to death. I try to make my weekends with my boys fun and exciting. I want them to experience the world. My anxiety and depression sometimes hold me back.<br>
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I have been giving medication and therapy a lot of thought. Some may say that I have not given it enough thought or given it too much thought because I have not really done anything about it. But I have given it enough though that I signed up for health insurance. I had been without health insurance for about a year and a half now. Lets pick up where I last left off in regards to my <a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2012/05/mistrust-depression-denial.html" target="_blank">mental health</a>.<br>
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Quick recap, when I was 23 I tried to tell the doctor I was depressed and he told me I was just suffering from displacement or something like that. For a couple of years I was genuinely happy. I had a career I loved and didn't mind working 50 hour weeks. I was so satisfied with life that I decided to have my second child because I felt that I had my depression under control. I worked my way up through a company and was making sufficient money to raise 2 children. I saved up all my vacation days to cover the cost of my benefits while I was on maternity leave. My very first week on maternity leave the company goes under and I am left without a job to return to. It gave me a reason to forcibly become a stay at home but not having a partner that was capable of stepping up to the plate and providing for his family made me bitter. I am grateful that his parents were kind enough to support us but they had already done it for 2 years with our first born. I didn't want to go back to that.<div><br></div><div> Right before having my second child I had accepted the fact that I would be the main bread winner in the family. I was so in love with this man that I had no shame being fully employed and he only being partially employed. But I thought the loss of income would have inspired him to take the reins and find better employment. That didn't happen. Instead he managed to convince me to move back in with his parents in another city with the illusion that he had a great job lined up for him.<br>
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My depression swallowed me whole. I wanted to find a job where I was making the same amount as I was making before and all that was available were minimum wage jobs that wanted 10 plus year experience. I ended up going back to school to better my chances at finding a better job.<br>
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Going back to school sent me back on my road to seeking help. I went to the nearest clinic and admitted to the federally funded doctor that I suffer from anxiety. I was afraid that this doctor would say the same as the last and I didn't want to feel judged or called a liar. I didn't want to be told that I simply didn't know how to "deal with change." My fear of being judged has held me back from many things, including getting help from a doctor. Having mistrust and paranoia towards doctors should probably be a major sign that there is something seriously wrong with me. I literally just came to that conclusion. There is something seriously wrong with me. I like to believe that doctors take their oaths seriously but to me they are still human. They are still capable to judge. I am afraid of being judged. Even though I know everyone does it. Bottom line, I only fessed up to the anxiety and was prescribed Buspirone.<br>
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In the middle of my second semester I was called in for an interview I had applied to 4 months back. I put my education on hold to rejoin the workforce at a decent wage. I made up the salary by always working overtime. Like I always do.<br>
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I may have rambled on but I feel like the back story is pertinent to my mental health situation. Bare with me I am getting to the point.<br><br>I started this post like a year ago. I do have the health insurance but I don't have the time to go see a doctor. I am still debating wether or not I should seek treatment for my depression. Part of me believes in this fairy tail that some magical concoction of pills will give me the will to do everything I ever wanted to do without this overwhelming fear. The other part believes it to be ludicrous. <br>
<br></div>IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-58452093717899340152015-11-18T02:47:00.000-05:002016-01-21T22:48:24.512-05:00Self ActualizationI was told today that they knew what my deal is. "You are still finding yourself." All because I said I went to brunch by myself. The subject was quickly changed being that it was not a one on one conversation. I usually like to surround myself with people that can jump from one topic to another in a very attention-deficit-disorder" sort of way, but I wish we elaborated on this perception of me. It was mentioned that I was comfortable with the identity that was given to me by others.<br>
<br>
Lately I have been pondering that scenario. I don't believe I am finding myself. The reality of who I am is pretty secure. I am not finding myself. I discovered who I was in 7th grade. I grew into my own skin from 6th to 7th grade. In 6th grade I was concerned with being popular. When I started Junior High I had attained the status I wanted. I had made my clique. I quickly realized that being popular meant being in the mean girls group. If being popular meant being catty, I wanted no part of it. That's when I realized having one quality friend was better than having a bunch of fake friends. Being Mrs. Popularity was not for me. Moving to Florida that summer also impacted who I became.<br>
<br>Starting out in a new school and a new state was isolating. Not to mentioned that It was starting 8th grade in a new school. Middle school is awkward on its own. I was never taught to be girlie. I wasn't allowed to wear make up. My mom didn't know how to straighten my hair so I was always going au natural. In NY humidity was almost non existent. My mom didn't even buy me hair gel for my frizzy hair. I learned to manage.<div><br></div><div>In 8th grade I befriended the school outcast. To this day I don't understand why people didn't like her. I found her to be super exciting and intriguing. She went by "Woody". She was loud and opinionated. I truly admired that. I have always gravitated towards people that stand out. I have been a non conformist from a very young age.</div><div><br></div><div>One day one of the girls from the popular group came up to me and asked me "Why do you hang out with her? She is so strange. You could totally be hanging with us." I don't recall what I said but I will never forget how I felt. I was disgusted by her proposition. "Abandon the person that befriended me when I was the outsider just so I can be friends with a bunch of fake people?.. No thank you!"</div><div><br></div><div>Woody and I ended up going to different high schools. We kept in touch freshman year but then she moved out of the neighborhood. My mom didn't drive and so I was never taught either. Even if I took drivers Ed, she couldn't afford to buy me car. I never got to see Woody anymore. So I never spoke to Woody again. A friendship isn't the same when you stop seeing each other everyday. Many years down the line I found her on Facebook. But we didn't meet up. What's the</div><div>Point of having a FB friend if you're not going to reconnect. I did learn she was dating her 8th grade crush! 10 years later. That was exciting. I wonder if she knows that she was a major impact in my life and is still thought of today. I just suck at long distance friendships/relationships.</div>IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-67523523382387628302015-11-18T02:45:00.001-05:002015-11-18T02:45:32.821-05:00Is monogamy unnatural?If one person was enough wouldn't we all just have one friend? If we can't have only one friend why do we feel that we can only have one person to love? I'm the kind of person that has a very small circle of friends but even I have to admit one friend isn't enough. I've even let go of the stigma of having a "best" friend. So why isn't it acceptable to feel the same way about lovers? Sometimes I feel like being intellectual and chatty. I have a friend who's perfect for that. Sometimes I want to be wild and crazy and reckless, I have a friend for that. Sometimes I feel artsy. Sometimes I feel freaky. My point is, I know there are people that can be all that in one, but when that one person feels artsy I feel freaky. I figured that one dimensional individuals are more compatible with my needs.<br />
<br />
I know there are those type of people that can hang with a whole group of people at once. I am not one of those people. I can't always tolerate a plethora of personalities at once.<br />
<br />
So why the stigma that we should only be with one mate? Could it be that it's unnatural to think you can be with one single person for the rest of our lives? Maybe the problem is not finding that one perfect person. Maybe everyone that ever gets married is settling. A true progressive individual understands that they will constantly be reinventing themselves. We will want different things at different aspects of your lives.<br />
<br />
Is it the fear of dying alone that pushes people to commit to one single person? I think that is a bit selfish. "I need to find someone to take care of me when I am old."<br />
<br />
"When you find the 'one', you will see." Maybe that's not love, maybe its just obsession.IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-54872233688675035532015-11-18T02:37:00.002-05:002016-01-21T23:47:02.617-05:00Manic episode or conquering of resistance?<br>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
I started reading The War of Art by Steven
Pressfield today. It is a book that was highly recommended by a coworker who
has a similar literary palate as mine. Just a couple of pages in and the book
quickly resonated with me. I could tell why he suggested it.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
I
consider myself a writer but one who definitely battles with resistance. I want
to say that there is a correlation between reading the book and me being
inspired to write again. I was only 30% into he book when my phone died. Hipster
would say “If you had a normal book you wouldn’t have this problem.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Since I have none
of my notes to reference back to, I have to rely on my short term memory which I <i>recently</i> discovered is terrible. There
is a line in the book that says “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.”
I know I have read this before because I have mentioned it once or twice in my
writing. I know for a fact I didn’t come up with it. I did start to wonder, “Was
it Steven Pressfield who was quoted saying that when I first read it or heard
it?” Did Pressfield say it first? This brought me back to another thing I heard
before and I paraphrase, “There is no more original thought left in the world.
All that is written is just recycled words and ideas that someone has already
come up with.” I don’t know where I
heard this before. I have a tendency of not paying much attention to the
creator of art. I much rather just enjoy the work than worry about the credit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
So for some reason
as I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, I started thinking about Brene
Brown and her Ted Talk on vulnerability. The sheer mention of the word “vulnerability”
makes me emotional. Vulnerability to me is my nemesis. There is nothing more
vulnerable to me than being seen crying in public. I HATE IT!!!! I know people don’t
know how to react when they see someone crying, much less not knowing why. I
know it’s awkward and uncomfortable. I loathe being pitied. I don’t handle consolation
very well. But when I am thinking about
something very dear to my heart I simply can’t control myself, much less talk
about it. Lately I have been embracing vulnerability more and more but it still
scares me half to death to share things. I find myself worrying about how the
other person is judging me. They may very well be not but then again they very
well may be. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Lately I have been
very open about my manic depression. I feel comfortable talking about it out loud but then my illness is
seen as a form of resistance according to Pressfield. That makes me feel like
shit. He practically says that illnesses like social anxiety are made up by
editors. He does say that anxiety and depression may be real. But he only said “may”.
It sounded like I am making an excuse with my manic depression. I am not sure
about that part of the book.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br></div>
<br>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
So here I am. Not
knowing what came first, the chicken or the egg. Did the book inspire me to
start writing again or did my mania make me do it? All I know is that a million
thoughts started popping up like annoying ads. The last thing I want to do is
over analyze and read into things that are not really there. A part of me
still wants to keep living in the illusion that I created. Like I have not
learned my lesson of getting attached to the idea of what could be. So I’ll
continue living in my mind. The book says that fear and doubt are allies and
good things when it comes to art and writing….but I disagreed with that too.<o:p></o:p></div>
IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-49501754043538388102015-11-04T23:47:00.000-05:002015-11-04T23:47:26.666-05:00Boys To Men Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1CLFP9_pUANWhJ1chBbMMOw-LC00p-9YjmzpnGAdWrJS9NvDyk2uoLQq4Giml1xlpzwuCBLbrWrc8rfPumGfHp3w8_O7BNEe3yoUxkT0piwGsB5vCK4phjfDA0F09lhHsMejJrpzrio/s1600/boys+to+men.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1CLFP9_pUANWhJ1chBbMMOw-LC00p-9YjmzpnGAdWrJS9NvDyk2uoLQq4Giml1xlpzwuCBLbrWrc8rfPumGfHp3w8_O7BNEe3yoUxkT0piwGsB5vCK4phjfDA0F09lhHsMejJrpzrio/s640/boys+to+men.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Three years ago I wrote a little post to accompany a <a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2012/08/boys-to-men.html" target="_blank">graphic </a>I worked on that contained the same exact Phillips Brooks quote. I first saw this quote when I dabbled in some scrap-booking.<br />
<br />
The uncertainty of the future used to cause me some major anxiety. Imagining my boys' future, however gives me peace.<br />
<br />
My ultimate favorite pastime with my boys is having conversation. Jayden, my eldest, hates it when I ask him about school. "Every day is the same thing." he tells me. Everyday we have the same conversation but every once in a while I hold a conversation with him that most adults would find hard to keep up with. Tonight we discussed an array of topics. It all started with him witnessing a phone call I made to the IRS. He was curious about what the IRS was and why they would owe me money. I began to explain taxes. I realized that I have to explain income. So I took out my last pay-stub and began my explanation. Pretty soon the conversation turned into an explanation on savings and the difference between credit and debit (not in accounting terms). We discussed the meaning of credit cards and loans. Something amazing happened. He tied in something he learned in school about what is is to buy something on credit. (Way to go Mrs. Puga on exposing her students to finance.)<br />
<br />
"So you have learned something new in school! It's not really the 'same old-same old' is it!" I exclaimed. From there we discussed my goal of me saving to buy a house with a yard. I explained 401K and savings.<br />
<br />
Eventually we discussed college. I told him that he should try his best to find what he truly loves to learn about so that he chooses the right field of study in college. I shared with him that I think he would be a good lawyer but he is not really comfortable defending people who are guilty. I explained to him he can work for the prosecution. This kid has a very high moral compass. He makes me proud everyday.<br />
<br />
We discussed the importance of grades to get scholarships. I told him that regardless I would make sure his college is paid but to avoid private schools because I would never be able to afford that.<br />
"So I can't go to Harvard?" he asked.<br />
"Not unless you get a scholarship" I said. He pondered a bit.<br />
"What's the best school for coding?" he asked.<br />
"MIT" I said, "It's in Massachusetts."<br />
"MASSACHUSETTS!!!! But I thought it was in California."<br />
<br />
He makes me laugh. I wish I had recorded the conversation we had today. It was so complex and fascinating.<br />
<br />
I ended the conversation by reiterating that the goal in life is to find something he loves to do and is good at. Find your passion. But then I ended on a joke after coming full circle and returning to wages and taxes and bills:<br />
<br />
"Don't grow up Jayden, IT'S A TRAP!"<br />
<br />
He laughed out loud and referenced Star Wars. It was a perfect moment. It was a win for parenting and motherhood.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-51728854088974671302015-04-25T23:03:00.000-04:002015-04-25T23:03:17.805-04:00Self Expression or Lack There of...There are moments when I wish I had an artistic talent. How I wish I could express my feelings through a different medium. When I'm overly emotional and extra sensitive that even the words cannot come to mind. I feel like I tend to rant too much when I am over flowing with emotions. I wish I could put these emotions in an instrumental number or a painting. Instead, I simply drown in the emotions of those talented people that compose such beautiful melodies that sound exactly how I feel even when the lyrics don't match. Instead I ramble on. With no one being able to understand what goes on inside this mind even though the expressions on my face say it all. But no one bothers to look. No one can be bothered.<br />
<br />
I am probably the most difficult human being on the face of this planet but I still deserve love and affection. Every one does. I feel so invisible. I feel so lonely. What good is it to have it all if you have no one to have it with. Someone on the same mental level as me. What good is to to grow if you have no one to grow with and experience the same journey with you. I relate everything to my life to an emotion.IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-43307041534349232022015-04-12T06:00:00.000-04:002016-01-21T23:55:38.945-05:00The Social Paradox<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmNeFvQEwGD7IfkKRzhHoZxuxDifPG_aU8bmLKl-XW8BmVZr_XZs6sm_3qRfp6-wMVEaswGNYDyfRgMa_JhvXCXhl2KYiFcrhtKa1faZUAGIT-MC5Xq57NbdR4LDpA9WnmNsMPY4W3GI/s1600/social+paradox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmNeFvQEwGD7IfkKRzhHoZxuxDifPG_aU8bmLKl-XW8BmVZr_XZs6sm_3qRfp6-wMVEaswGNYDyfRgMa_JhvXCXhl2KYiFcrhtKa1faZUAGIT-MC5Xq57NbdR4LDpA9WnmNsMPY4W3GI/s1600/social+paradox.jpg" height="246" width="320"></a></div>
<br>
She was simply a girl that wanted a good story to tell. She walked the streets making these elaborate scenarios of how she would encounter interesting people. But when the moment passed and nothing eventful occurred she quickly became disappointed. Disappointment was followed by self evaluation and self criticism.<br>
Sometimes she considered Robert Fulghum's method of putting up a sign at her table in a coffee shop that read "Tell me your love story and I'll buy you a cup of coffee." Except it didn't need to be a love story. Her sign would simply read "Tell me your story".<br>
<br>
She is a paradox. She only wants to hear the stories of those people that are hesitant to tell them. That way she can sneak some words in from time to time. People that are too eager to tell their story barely let others speak. Therefor she simultaneously yearned to be approached but yet feared it intensely. She called it social roulette.<br>
<br>
She refused to believe that people did things for the sake of doing them. She felt everything had meaning or purpose. She liked to analyze every word, every tone, every body movement, every expression. She wanted to decipher the person. She wanted to see into their soul. The superficial surface never interested her. She made it her mission to get inside. She knew she wouldn't be able to do it with every person, but that never stopped her from trying.<br>
<br>
She was cautious when she found someone interesting. She didn't want to seem overbearing. But that is what she was. Overbearing. The girl that asked too many personal questions. The girl that tried to get you to talk about things you didn't want to talk about. The girl that got you out of your comfort zone. She was extremely grateful when someone tries to get her out of her comfort zone. She found it refreshing.<br>
<br>
She fell in love quickly. Not only in the romantic way. She fell in love with people in general. When she thought to herself "I would love to be this person's friend" it was because she already fell in love with their soul.<br>
<br>
Her introversion held her back, Trying to spark conversation with people exhausted her. So much that when she felt it forced she would not give it another try. Sometimes she just wanted to yell out "OMG you are so cool we should like totally hang out" in her best valley girl voice of course.<br>
Yet she still hides it. Because she really doesn't have time to nourish all those friendships. She doesn't have time nor the energy. It is simply a pipe dream.IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-68395103518833860982015-04-12T00:42:00.001-04:002015-04-12T00:42:21.937-04:00Mrs. Positivity<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xPULpXXJ8qV8uS53JD7ISb0pRH6pnLZcp3YYRNrxhhyphenhyphenPTr4Mh5wFxs53xrSAeuqTC4HJka2maNnKQA8jLSSa5k3zTpJx53akYD37xrAPO1klCdDjHuNbn-03DVy2eEnpfqWUp3BLve0/s1600/milhazes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xPULpXXJ8qV8uS53JD7ISb0pRH6pnLZcp3YYRNrxhhyphenhyphenPTr4Mh5wFxs53xrSAeuqTC4HJka2maNnKQA8jLSSa5k3zTpJx53akYD37xrAPO1klCdDjHuNbn-03DVy2eEnpfqWUp3BLve0/s1600/milhazes.jpg" height="320" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Words:Chinese Proverb Art:Beatriz Milhazes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In this day and age people utilize social media to either create the illusion that they are content and perfect or to try and make people jealous of themselves. We post only the good.<br />
Being a photojournalist (that's what I like to call myself), I have to admit that I only like to post photos that are beautiful and happy. I do get the appeal. I only want to share beauty in the world. There is enough hostility and ugliness. However I do not post things to prove to myself or others that my life is amazing. I post happy photos because that is exactly how I felt in that moment. I like to scroll through my own instagram from time to time and I cant help but feel proud. Proud of the things I post, proud of the photos I take, proud of the moments I have, proud of the life I have created for myself and my boys. It may not be subtle, but I do post unhappy things too. No matter how far I have come from my depression/bipolar, I do have my moments of sadness and loneliness. In those moments I mostly post quotes or songs.<br />
<br />
My life is pretty close to perfect right now. There are a few things that need to evolve but overall I am happy. I am proud of the life I live. I am proud not because it is perfect, but proud because I take small steps everyday to improve my life just a little bit more. I don't think I am better than anyone else or that I have all the right answers and all the right methods. Everyone has to live their own life the way they want to. It's their own right. But i'll be dammed if I am going to be resented for the way I live mine and the way I express my happiness. Social media is my outlet of self expression. If you are going to roll your eyes at my posts then why have me at all? I get the whole saying: "Don't worry about people talking about you behind your back, when they stop talking about you it means you are irrelevant" but I rather not be in people's negative thoughts in the first place. I have realized to let go of things that are out of my control ... including things like this. I just wish everyone was more positive and more concerned with their own lives. The world would really be a much better place. But I guess it would also be a little boring.<br />
<br />
I am very pleased with how my life is going. I am happy because even though I am not where I want to be, I still make the best of what I have while making strides on improving myself. Because without self improvement there is no growth, without growth then we are going nowhere.I don't know about ya'll but I have places to go.IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-55994008911304233162015-02-14T04:42:00.002-05:002015-03-19T12:57:52.467-04:00One Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
My perception of time is surely warped. It feels like it's been longer than a year but then I say "Only one year?"<br />
I do not know if I have said this before, but my father and I were close in the most unconventional way. Personality wise we were exactly alike but yet different. Frankly, it was a beautiful paradox. We were the same soul that just grew up in different times. We were both introspective people. We were both quiet observers of the world. Although we never really talked much, we candidly understood each other. I miss that. I miss him.<br />
I definitely took my dad's death as a lesson. I hate that it's a lesson I had to learn while having that special bond taken away from me. My dad understood me without me ever having to explain myself, which in retrospect I now understand why I feel like I shouldn't have to explain myself to people. He allowed me to make my own mistakes in life without judging. I want to believe that he knew I would find my way without him having to control everything I did. There were times where I felt I needed his unsolicited advice. But it made me stronger. I learned to solve my own problems and figure things out for myself. I wish he had known that. In the last days of my dad's disease I didn't know what to tell him. All I could mutter out in his last few hour was "You were a great dad, I know you did the best you could." I felt I needed to say more. But thinking back on it know, I am sure he knew exactly how I felt, since that was our thing.<br />
<br />
Thinking about everything that has happened in this past year, I believe my dad would be proud of the improvements I have made.<br />
<br />
I inherited my depression from my dad. If that's even a thing. He would mope around the house sighing and sometimes complaining that he wished he could be doing more. I am taking the moping out of the equation and I am starting to get things done. As much as I love my dad, that is one thing I wish was different about him. Talking about your problems won't resolve anything. You must find the will and courage to make your solutions. I think he would be proud of me for that. The other day I told Jayden that I hope he will be better than me. Every child should strive to be better than their parents, and every parent should feel proud that their child is better than them. I believe progress is the goal in life. We should all strive to be better than we are.<br />
That's one of the lessons I've learned from my father's passing.<br />
<br />
His memory will live on forever in me, in my children, and eventually in my children's children. I can't wait for my boys to share the memories they have of their grandfather when they become adults. I am so glad they got to know their grandfather. That man held more love in him than anyone could ever imagine. He just shared it with very few people. I am lucky to have been one of those people. I am proud to have been his daughter.IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-73223284390860555522015-02-03T21:54:00.002-05:002015-03-20T14:01:33.531-04:00Progress of my New and Improved SelfIt has been 6 months into my 30's. Subtle changes have occurred. Subtle, yet self-evident. I don't even know where to begin. There have been so many people responsible for my growth: many of them unaware of the impact they have made on me. The mushy part of me wants to let it be know but the self contained me says "chill, don't be so overbearing." Lets be honest I am over bearing by nature. They say don't hide who you are but even I know how annoying it can me.<br />
<br />
Life is still a struggle between being an introvert vs an extrovert. I've definitely been more adventurous lately. I find that I stretch myself too thin sometimes. But I have been pushing through it. I've learned to cherish the little things. Something as simple as going on a night stroll with my boys, lifts up my demeanor.<br />
<br />
I have been working out for 4 weeks now. I already feel a difference. I feel stronger and more energetic. I have improved my eating habits. I have even considered going vegetarian! I bought some tofu this week to try it out. I have not yet. Baby steps. My whole life has always been slow and steady. It's funny how my work self and home/life self are different. At work I do everything with urgency. It comes naturally. But in the real world...I don't know what else to call it, I am just like the Of Monster and Men song:<br />
"I move slow and steady, but I feel like a waterfall."<br />
<br />
My fitness has taken over my life. I am grateful for the support my mom has provided. She doesn't mind watching the kids late and she even prepares me veggie meals. The kids don't seem to mind that I get home only an hour before they have to go to bed. I still am dedicating my weekends to them. Our weekends have been more and more physical in nature.<br />
<br />
My emotional self has gone through a metamorphosis as well. Taking things personal has been controlled. I have learned to detach myself from emotional situations. It's difficult to explain my mental state without really explaining the situation. In laments terms I try not to get attached to people. I've learned to appreciate having acquaintances. Not everyone needs to be my friend. I've also learned to nurture my true friendships.<br />
<br />
I still have a long way to go for my self-reliance tour. From here on out I will hit the ground running.<br />
<br />
<br />IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-76059950389842627662014-08-04T22:32:00.000-04:002014-08-04T23:03:09.754-04:00Turning Thirty: reflection on my first decade as a mom.Like every normal adult female in the world, I had a bit of a dramatic moment last night. Last night was my last as a 29 year old. Another decade of my life had flashed before my eyes. Funny how I don't recall having the same melodramatic moment when I was 9 nor when I was 19.<br />
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Even though I said that<a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2013/04/30-before-30.html" target="_blank"> I was not freaking out</a>, I eventually freaked out. Fortunately my freak out only last for about 30 minutes. I quickly realized that I was simply freaking out because I was not freaking out. Instead of counting my failures I decided to meditate on my blessings. My main blessings of course are these two:<br />
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By the age of 20 I had become a mom. To be honest my 20's are a bit of a blur. I wish I could say it was because I was drunk for most of it but that is not the case. I literally spent my 20's trying to raise my boys into decent human beings. I may be criticized about being a crappy house wife but being a teacher a mentor and a guidance counselor was my life. My focus was on making sure my children would have happy moments and experiences to look back on when they are older. I don't want to win the "Most Organized and Tidy Mom in the World" award. I want the "Funnest, Most Active Mom" award.<br />
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I asked my first born, Jayden, what his best first memory with me was and he said "My cowboy birthday party!" That was his first birthday. He is now 9 years old. I highly doubt he remembers that. So I asked him for his next best memory.<br />
This time he answered "Halloween!"<br />
"Which one?" I asked<br />
"The one I was a power ranger." he replied.<br />
That time he was 4. He remembers we were in Miami and that we trick-or-treated in the neighborhood behind where we live.<br />
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I am glad he remembers those moments. I remember some moments when I felt like a failure as a mom. I remember the first time I cried uncontrollably in front of my children and they kept asking what's wrong and I simply said "nothing." Not the healthiest of answers but in those moments of depression all reasoning goes out the window. I also remember the days when my depression was so bad I wouldn't even get out of bed. To the people around me I was simply "lazy."<br />
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I am truly far from it. Just because I loathe cleaning merely because I get a panic attack when I don't know where to start, does not mean I am lazy. Perfect example, when I am at work I excel. I cannot be idle for a second. If I am getting paid to be there I want to make sure I do a good job. No one can say that I am lazy at work. I have the best work ethic. I probably would suck as a maid. Then again that is why I am NOT in that field of work.<br />
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In conclusion, I identify my 20's with being a mom. I admit that I didn't take care of myself in that decade. Some would say I let myself go. So my goal in my 30's is to find balance; spiritually, mentally, physically, financially, personally, emotionally, romantically, etc, etc, etc.<br />
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<br />IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-24614267755356729022014-08-03T21:36:00.001-04:002014-08-03T21:36:38.309-04:00HimI still wait for him to surprise me.<div>I still live in an illusion.</div><div>An illusion that only is a reality in my mind.</div><div>I cling to that illusion like my sanity depends on it.</div><div>Yet the illusion make me more and more insane.</div><div>The vicious cycle we call unrequited love.</div><div><br></div><div>Rationality goes right out the door.</div><div>Emotions creep in through the cracks of the windows.</div><div>Although it makes me feel like a fool,</div><div>I go back to the same place I was. </div><div><br></div><div>It's a house of mirrors</div><div>I no longer know which way is in or out.</div><div>So I wander, trying to avoid my own reflection.</div><div>Hoping to find yours.</div>IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-64967628499982862862014-07-24T00:00:00.000-04:002014-07-24T00:00:02.854-04:00Typography Thursday: Art of ConversationI follow this great site called Brain Pickings. They wrote this great piece about <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2014/07/16/barbara-walters-how-to-talk/" target="_blank">Barbara Walters</a>. This article touched my soul in so many ways.<br />
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I have always felt that I lacked social skills, specifically in the art of conversation. I have never been one for group discussions. One on one interaction is what I excel at. I pride myself in being a great listener but sometimes I feel martyred when I am just "the listener." Barbara made a great point by saying "...when a conversation becomes a monologue, poked along with tiny cattle-prod questions, it isn't a conversation any more. It is a strained, manipulative game, tiring and perhaps even lonely."<br />
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Whoa! Barbara hit it right on the nail. At the end of certain monologues I feel extremely exhausted and all I was doing was listening! Obviously I was exhausted because I was an attentive listener and I was trying to form an opinion the whole time, only it was in my head. But Barbara is right. Those conversations are simply not conversations.<br />
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However, they are necessary evils. Sometimes a friend just needs to vent, without judgement, without opinions. Individuals resolve problems when they speak their issues out loud. No one wants to look like the crazy person and talk to themselves. Except for myself, I talk to myself ALL the time. Especially at work. I am sure everyone thinks I am flying over the cuckoo's nest. But for those who are not as brave as I am, I will always be the person to stand next to you lending her ear. Barbara's words inspired me to make my first graphic since <a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2013/12/typography-thursday-keiko-lynn.html" target="_blank">December 5th 2013!</a><br />
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This article also affected me by bringing up memories of my <a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2013/05/my-dad-modern-day-riddler.html" target="_blank">dad</a>. I remember being around 8 or 9 and watching 20/20 with my dad. It's a delightful memory. I can even see us shouting out to the TV, " Hugh Downs and Barbara Walter, this is 20/20!"</div>
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I love when happy vivid memories are sparked in me.</div>
<br />IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-48834371526913474702014-07-20T17:54:00.000-04:002014-07-21T12:56:42.343-04:00The Loss of my Father to GBM: Part One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This might as well be the hardest post to start. It has been a good 5 months.<br>
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For three months I was on auto pilot. It was my full intention to write about my family's journey through out the process but I just couldn't handle it all. Taking care of a love one with an illness is the toughest thing a human doing can do. Being a caregiver to someone with GBM is soul sucking.<br>
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I know it's not easy to write about grief. Yet I am a bit hard on myself for not writing about it sooner. In November of last year I mentioned that my dad had an <a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2013/11/yelling-at-universe-bites-me-in-ass.html" target="_blank">undesirable MRI scan result.</a><br>
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That news turned my life upside down, down upside, sideways and everything in between. I feel like I need to work my way up to the moment I actually lost my father to understand where my feelings stand. I will begin from that day I got the news of the MRI.<br>
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November 20, 2013 (exactly 8 months ago!)<br>
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I called my parents late that night to confirm with them that the kids and I were heading to Miami from Orlando for Thanksgiving break. My dad usually answers phone calls right away unless he is in the shower. So I didn't give it much thought. All of Thursday passed and I still didn't get a phone call returned. I didn't really give it much thought however until I tried to call again on Friday. First I called my mom's phone, no answer. Then I called, my dad's phone and still no answer. So I called my dad's phone again and my brother Carlos answered. I found it strange that he would answer my dad' phone. But that's as much thought as I put into it. I spoke to my brother and I spoke to my mom and I spoke to my dad. Although I spoke to all three it was by far the shortest conversation. I called later that night and I mentioned to my mom that it was odd that everyone spoke to me for like 2 seconds and they didn't even want to tell me where they were.<br>
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I'll never forget the words my mom said to me next, "We didn't want to tell you because we knew you were going to be driving down with the kids by yourself and we didn't want to worry you." Of course this is the translated version since she said it to me in Spanish. My heart sank right there. I mean, when you start with "we didn't want to worry you" all a human can do is WORRY.<br>
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That's when she told me that my dad had an MRI on Tuesday the 19th of November because he kept forgetting things and repeating himself. The MRI revealed a mass in the middle of his brain (the corpus collosum to be specific). They were instructed to admit him to the hospital on Wednesday (the day I tried calling them) to have a biopsy done. His doctor explained that they would have to really be aggressive to get him admitted since he never had headaches nor dizziness.<br>
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My dad could no longer be left alone. So when they took him to triage my other brother Beto wanted to go with him. My brother was instructed to stay outside. My brother was worried that my dad was going to say he was perfectly fine and feeling great. My dad walked out and asked "Beto, these people are asking me why I am here, why am I here again?". That's when my brother was asked in and my dad was admitted.<br>
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Obviously this was told to me on the phone. I tried to keep it together on the phone, but when I hung up I broke down! <a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2013/11/letter-to-myself.html" target="_blank">My hubby and I were going through something and we weren't even talking.</a> I felt so alone so I ran to my in-laws and just broke down. At the end of my breakdown I felt like I overreacted since a biopsy hadn't even been done yet. But since the MRI read malignant and the size of 5 cm sounded disturbing to me, I knew...I just knew the reality of the situation.<br>
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Needless to say, I was filled with many emotions. Hope, however, was the least, since the last time I was hopeful when it came to cancer was when my nephew was diagnosed in 2007. He passed away a year after his diagnosis. So let's say I don't fuck with cancer. You say cancer to me and I am scared shitless. I was already angry at my hubby and now I had something else to be angry about.<br>
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As you can tell, I skipped the denial stage and jumped to the <a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2013/11/yelling-at-universe-bites-me-in-ass.html" target="_blank">anger and bargaining</a> in one straight swoop. <div><br><div>So I drove down to Miami on Saturday morning never imaging that it would be the last time I would reside in Orlando. Never imaging how much my life and that of my entire family, would change drastically.</div><div><br></div><div>In the next couple of posts you will see that the longest stage was the depression. But we all knew that would happen with me.<br>
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<br></div></div>IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-61409594965715323262014-06-23T21:19:00.004-04:002014-07-20T18:30:40.440-04:00Realizing I am no longer 19The end of my 20's is approaching fast. This past weekend was like a slap to the face. A slap that made me realized I an not 19...I am 29.<br />
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First, I thought it was a great idea to orchestrate a happy hour to be able to bond with my coworkers. In all honesty it was a great idea. Everyone had fun. I got to see certain people let lose while others opened up. All in all, it was a great bonding experience. I was even proud of myself for being able to out drink certain characters.<br />
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The problem arose when I thought that I could continue with the drinking the next day. I had to work on a Saturday; which after a night or drinking, was not half bad.<br />
Sign number one that I am getting "too old for this" revealed itself when I decided to take a nap after I got home from running a few errands. I knew I needed a recharge before Saturday night began.<br />
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Another night of drinking commenced at a<a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2012/08/eternal-sunshine-of-spotless-mind.html" target="_blank"> friend's </a>house. It entailed a few shenanigans like the drawing of a phallus on a dozing friend and the infamous drunk dialing to an ex. It was all fun and games until I realized I was way over my limit. I don't even know what happened. I have always been able to control my inebriation. However, that raspberry vodka has a way of sneaking up on you until it is too late!<br />
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I got sick that very night. I have no idea at what time I feel asleep but I know I was up at 8:00 in the morning, somehow still drunk and still sick.I couldn't remember where I had placed my glasses so I wore my friends. I could not hydrate myself because even water would not stay down that morning. In laments terms, I woke up feeling like shit!<br />
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It was not until like 5:00 p.m. when I was finally able to keep some food in my stomach.<br />
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I guess since I woke up so early on Sunday and felt like I was still drunk, that my hangover did not hit me until Monday! I didn't know that was even possible. But there I was Monday morning with a raging headache realizing...So this is what the end of your 20's feel like... shame and regret.<br />
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Not really, but it was a funny and melodramatic way to end this post.<br />
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<br />IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-46627703448107789102014-05-20T00:03:00.001-04:002014-05-20T00:03:21.622-04:00Dark Lonely NightThere is no point in trying to make something into what it is not. As vague as that statement is, it is precisely how I feel.<div><br></div><div> I thought I had a friend in someone who I've spent the majority of my life with. But that person can't see when I need them to just listen to me for a while. I never call anyone for no reason. I call when I have something to say. The words just may not come out easily, nor eloquently nor may they sound like I have a point to make. </div><div><br><div>Then I get brushed off as if I am irrelevant. However I don't blame them. I blame myself for expecting them to understand me without me having to explain myself. So I continue to suffer in the cold and lonely darkness. Without being able to explain it to anyone. Without being able to understand it myself.</div></div>IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-87503418526311336852014-04-29T01:48:00.000-04:002014-07-20T18:31:42.880-04:00Existential Crisis ContinuesLately I've been having this intense feeling of unworthiness. I can't seem to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. This feeling of unworthiness has alienated me from people. By the time I try to get close to the ones I love it feels like it's too late. I have always had a hard time relating to people. There are very few that I can have a deep connection with. I don't want superficial friends. I want people around that I can have deep conversations with. Most people are only out to have a good time and show the world how happy and fun they are through social media. No one seems to want to have a good heart to heart. Could they be trying to avoid reality like I am?<br />
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My fears have taken over me. When fear comes rushing in, nature calls for you to fight or flee. Many often forget the third plausible reaction to fear...freeze. I always seem to just freeze. I hate myself for it but it's all I know to do.<br />
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I am trapped in my mind. I am afraid that I will always be this unhappy lost little girl. I fear I can never be happy. I hate that feeling so much.<br />
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I recently re watched the film Revolutionary Road. Great film but pretty dark. It's films like that which I have been relating to the most lately. Sylvia is another one. In high school I hated the Bell Jar. Probably because I saw a bit of myself in it. Veronika Decides to Die by Paulo Coehlo is another book that best describes what I have been going though. I hate to make all these references without elaborating more on it but that's just me. Always trying to find art that imitates my life because I do not have the words to explain it myself.IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-79621042446994086732014-04-23T22:27:00.000-04:002014-04-23T22:27:29.664-04:00Existentialist Crisis or Writer's Block?Recently I have been going through an existential crisis. According to my friend this crisis has been ongoing for 10 years. She is only half right. In the past ten years I have probably gone through at least one existential crisis per year. The lengths of these crises (side note: I love words whose plural form are irregular eg., geese, theses, cacti, syllabi etc.) range from one month to six months. It seems like a rather odd, unproductive and ridiculous way to spend your time. I'd like to say that it's something I cannot control and it just <i>happens... </i>but<i> </i>deep down I know I am in control. When I am stuck in that mode however it is darn near impossible to leave that dark hole. Everything I can dream of and imagine gets obliterated by a simple phrase..."What's the point?"<br />
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This has caused me to have a sort of writer's block. My lack of writing is due to a lack of inspiration combined with self doubt. Like most mysteries in life I am not sure which came first, the chicken or the egg? Am I uninspired because I doubt myself or do I doubt myself because I am uninspired? Or maybe it's just my inclination for perfection? I promised that perfection would not lead to procrastination but I have stumbled. This is what it means to fall off the wagon. But like the old saying goes, and I am paraphrasing, "It doesn't matter that you fall down 7 times, what matter is that you get back up 8."<br />
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I am sure every writer goes through this phase of:<br />
"Am I good enough to be considered a writer?"<br />
"Am I clever enough?"<br />
"If no one gets inspired by my words, does that make me a failed writer?"<br />
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In times of crisis I turn to the magic of film making. One of my favorite scenes from Amelie is when Hipolito finds the quote from his book written on a wall. Being passionate about quotes, I hope to find a quote of mine randomly one day. For now I will stick to my favorite pin about becoming a better writer:<br />
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<br />IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-40266726186240285992014-01-29T17:24:00.002-05:002014-07-20T18:23:29.111-04:00GBMTurns out the <a href="http://idiosyncrazzy.blogspot.com/2013/11/yelling-at-universe-bites-me-in-ass.html" target="_blank">MRI </a>done on my dad was as serious as I imagined.<br />
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Don't ever joke around about having a brain tumor. Even if you are extremely depressed, obsessive, compulsive, or psychotic. A brain tumor is not the problem.<br />
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A brain tumor, especially the inoperable malignant type, is the worst thing a human being can have. When I first read about Glioblastoma multiforme, it said it was the rarest most aggressive brain cancer. The first thought to myself was "aren't all cancers 'aggressive'?"<br />
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This incurable cancer has already taken my father. All that really remains is a shell. The location and size of the tumor is interrupting the signals that cross the hemispheres. So he may be trying to get up but the brain can't send the message to the legs. He doesn't even speak to me at all. I try to talk to him and he gets frustrated and annoyed. I don't know if he's scared or anxious. I wish he would express how he feels in someway. I wish he could tell me that everything is going to be fine. Something. Anything.<br />
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I know my father is still on this earth but I have already started to grieve him.<br />
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IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4973780094455207358.post-75051850203625758632014-01-20T17:28:00.001-05:002014-01-20T18:13:32.025-05:00Anger ManagementI have the right to remain silent. Anything I say CAN be used against me in a court of law.<div><br></div><div>Zen has been my middle name for a while now. I thought I had reached the point where I was not bothered by anything negative that was said to me or about me. Boy was I wrong. Today I EXPLODED. That's even an understatement. I turned into the red hulk (my reference may be completely wrong). Things that shouldn't have been said where said. I had yelled at people before but NEVER like today. This person brought out the devil in me. I meant every single word I said but never wanted to admit. Remorse immediately followed. Not only because of what I said but who I affected in my crazy rant. </div><div><br></div><div>Let's just say that someone tried to rain on my parade and I sure did poke them in the eye with their umbrella. Figuratively not literally. I just don't understand how someone can be so bitter all the time. Let me take that back. I know why they are bitter but I couldn't be someone's piñata anymore. I could have excersided a little more compassion on my part. At that moment in time I only thought about my emotions and I failed to recognized theirs. I have never clashed heads with someone as much as this person. They hold so much resentment towards me. If I am mad it bothers them, if I am happy it bothers them, if I do something right it bothers them, if I do something wrong it bothers them even more. </div><div><br></div><div>I left another situation similar to this because I didn't want it to get to this. I try to be civil, respectful, and understanding but when you can't even listen to reason anymore then there is no point in having that person in your life. I allowed someone I loved with all my heart to take me to a dark place. A place I swore to never return. I want nothing more than to work through our differences but we are beyond that point. It saddens me but I just can't have them in my life.</div>IDIOSYNCRAZYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12403824585566313150noreply@blogger.com0