Notes from the Red Bird House

I just ate a bowl of Multi-Grain Cheerios. I know that may seem like an odd opening statement. I'm sure many readers are thinking and/or saying out loud, 'Wow, really? Who the fuck cares, Stacee?' I can't say there's any purpose to sharing my late night snacking habits, which are usually a lot more non-existent. You see, I'm not a big believer in snacking. I know I'm supposed to eat multiple, multiple times a day, which would include 'meals' that I would call 'snacks, but I'm not any good at it because I just don't like to snack. I like to meal. In fact, I eat three of them a day every day. I give myself bonus points for ALWAYS eating breakfast (even when I have a pumpkin spice donut which if I ate as a snack would count against me, but as long as it's a meal, I can rationalize it's ok, as long as I don't do it very often). So many people skip breakfast entirely or add extra sugar to their coffee and call it breakfast. I think

'Are you gonna kiss me or not?' ~ from "Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not" by Thompson Square Let's talk a moment about patience. Historically, I've sucked at it. I can delay certain kinds of gratification, like pizza, donuts, fried okra, and ice cream. Interpersonal patience is a totally different story. You see, I'm on my agenda, the rest of the world is on theirs, and we are nowhere near in sync. I want what I want, they want what they want, and we seldom want the same thing at the same time. I think it has to do with gravity and centrifugal force. Or maybe it's pheromones. Or God. It has to be something like that, but I'm really not sure. All I know is that I've spent my life needing patience so, in theory, I should be great at it. Practice makes perfect, right? Yeah, not so much. I'm still woefully inadequate, but I do have to say I'm improving. Finally. I know, I know. But I am getting it. I'm sure God is as tired of me faili

 'If that's what Heaven's made of, I ain't afraid to die...' ~ from 'If Heaven' by Andy Griggs I believe what I believe. I don't know where it came from or why. All I know is that I know. No one told me and I didn't read it in a book. At least I don't think I did. I'm sure I may have heard bits and pieces here and there, but my conclusions are mine and mine alone. I admit my beliefs are a little different than most and I'm ok with that, even if no one else is. I've been told that there are 'empirical' 'truths' that tell a very different story. I need to read The Word and repent, accept my Savior and await the Rapture. I wish I could do that, but I can't. It's not what or how I believe. Now, I'm not here to self-righteously force my will and insist that I'm right and everyone else is wrong. I believe that what I believe is right for me, right for me . I'm well aware that I may be the only person

I'm seldom in the right place at the right time. For being a punctual person, I'm usually too late or too early or somehow just not on time. I hesitate when I should jump, jump when I should hesitate. I wait when I should go, go when I should wait. I've been known to think too much and, on several fairly ugly occasions, too little. I speak when I should remain silent, remain silent when I should speak. What should I have said? Apparently anything would have worked better than nothing. Maybe. Of course, maybe not. Maybe what I said, the little I said, was too much. There's just no telling. All I know, it that it's not me and it is me. I am everything and nothing - everything they want but nothing they can have, nothing they want but everything they can have. I'm in between, sideways, and upside down. Maybe. Of course, maybe not. Maybe my time passed and I missed it. Maybe I hesitated and I lost. Maybe I was patient when should have been impatient, cowardly when

I've given it a lot of thought. And if any of you know me, I mean really KNOW me, you know what I mean by a lot. I've analyzed, pondered, contemplated, evaluated, run the numbers, meditated, studied, and deliberated until my eyes crossed and my head hurt. Along the way, I've drank my share and discussed the issues with God and certain very select friends. I've written it, erased it, and written it again. Only to erase it again. I've concluded and recanted, hoped and prayed. Once I decided and then decided I was full of shit. I'm not sure I'm ready for a conclusion, but I'm going to make one. For today. If you ask me tomorrow, I might say something completely different. We'll see. I was once accused of being wishy-washy. Yeah so? I never said I was perfect (ok, maybe that one time). No matter what, though, I know who I am. Right now today. Tomorrow? There's no telling. At best I'm a work in progress. Try to remember that as you read on. I li

I enjoy silence. I do. It's quiet, calm, and always allows for clear thought. I'm not going to say I prefer silence because that would be a lie. I love music and laughter and good conversation. I love the sound of the waves and the sound of the rain on a tin roof. I love the sound a ball makes when it hits a wooden bat and the swishing sound a basketball makes as it falls through the net. I love the sound of wind chimes in the cool night air and the buzz my cell phone makes when I get a text message. In the past, I've loved the sound of my girlfriend's breathing as she's slept peacefully next to me. Silence, though, has its place and, when well defined, can be equally comforting. I'm used to silence. I've lived alone and been alone for most of my adult life. I've spent more time talking to dogs and turtles and cashiers at Walmart than 'real' people. I've been alone with my silent thoughts and carved dreams out of the nothingness of nothing.

Friend: I wonder if you get coffee in Heaven. Me: Um... You're asking because...? Friend: I dunno. It just crossed my mind. Me: I'm sure you can have whatever you want. Friend: Or will we even want it since we will be 'whole', so to speak. Me: Eh... I'll still want sweet tea vodka. Friend: Hmm... I've got to find out the answer to this. Me: Who you gonna ask? Friend: I dunno. God? Me: Are you sure that's what you want to ask Him once you get His attention? About the availability of coffee in Heaven? Friend: You're right. Me: I'm not saying it's not important. ~ I guess it does kind of beg the question. Not about coffee in Heaven. I mean a bigger question. What would you ask God if given the chance? You have one question. What are you going to ask Him? Remember that at the point in time when you actually have His attention many formerly pressing questions are moot. Like... * Is there 'life' after death? * Is there really

Courage is a fickle thing. Even for those who seem pretty courageous under normal circumstances. I mean, once you get to thinking, there are so many possibilities. Think a little more and you'll have talked yourself into a near impossibility. Let me just say, when faced with the impossible, and/or near impossible, even the most courageous run and hide. It's a fact, unless you're Douglas MacArthur or dumb. I assure you, I'm neither. Incidentally, I am also not courageous even under the of best conditions. Even when I have nothing to lose, I can easily convince myself that I'm due to be out my last cent and three fingers on my dominant hand if I continue on. A little thought and BAM! I'm right there wallowing in the negative. By negative, I mean that part of me that insists that there's no fucking way in Hell that I'll ever accomplish such-and-such. 'Such-and-such' may equate to anything from a date with a pretty girl to petting a snake to speaki

I made a tragic discovery yesterday afternoon. I was off work and helping a couple friends with a little home improvement project. They were drinking beer and whiskey. Sadly I'm not really a fan of either. I've been known to drink whiskey in a pinch, but beer is a definite 'hell no' (I don't care how cute she is). I thought I was going to have to dip into the whiskey when I was reminded that there was a bottle of Deep Eddy's Sweet Tea Vodka (officially my favorite of the sweet tea vodkas) in the freezer. Weeeeeeeeee! I may have squealed as such. I really don't remember. Then, 'Oh, wait', said one friend, 'I drank all the sweet tea (meaning 'mixer') earlier'. Ooooh. What to do? As a general rule, I drink my sweet tea vodka mixed with diet sweet tea (preferably the kind made with Splenda so I can continue my New Years Resolution to cut back on aspartame). To me, using sweet tea just accentuates the sweet tea part of the sweet tea vodk

The past couple nights, I've been having weird dreams and remembering them. It's the remembering them part that gets me. I've always been one of those people who dreamed but could never really remember the dream long after waking. For most of my life, the people in my dreams were faceless (thank you but no comment please, Dr. Freud) and I can honestly count on one hand the number of dreams I actually remember. There was the one when I was six or seven in which I was a fighter jet pilot who got sucked out of her cockpit by a UFO. There was the one about ten or fifteen years ago in which I dreamed that I was with a woman who looked A LOT like Jodie Foster. The dream was so real that when I woke up I instinctively reached next to me and was shocked to find out that I was sleeping alone. Lastly, there was the one in which I chased a woman who looked like one of my Hot Friends around a city with tall skyscrapers trying to get a kiss from her. I woke just at the wrong moment and

I allow a lot of things to be just out of reach - rum, sweet tea vodka, cake (though more specifically, icing), pizza, donuts, certain ex-girlfriends, assorted former fuck-buddies, snakes, the occasional crush, and just about anything mango especially if it comes with shot or two of tequila. I know what's good for me and, incidentally, what's not. What's good for me I keep within reach. And, well, what's not... You know the drill. I'm excellent at self-control. I know what to say and when to say it. I know what to do and when to do it. I know what to drink and when to drink it (momentary lapses aside). I know what to eat and when to eat it. I have many, many good habits that go along way toward making me a redeemable and contributing member of society. That said, I still bite my nails, skip the gym at an alarming rate, and fall prey to anxiety slightly more often than is healthy. I'm a procrastinator and far from perfect, but I do tend to make what seems to be

I really never thought I'd be 'that' person - the nerd who loves her job so much she'd work for free. I can't decide if this is fortuitous or not. I love my job so much that I volunteered to work on my day off tomorrow. Yes, I volunteered. It was my suggestion. Mine. My boss wouldn't have expected me to do it, but I think he's secretly happy about it. Someone has to do the job and while I'm all about delegating, I want that person to be me. In jobs past, it would have been a hardship. I'd have bitched and whined and otherwise renounced all faith in everything except the pin I planned to repeatedly stick into my 'boss lady' voodoo doll. Oh, I'd have gone to work on my day off (I've done it many, many times), but begrudgingly so. I've always needed my job, no matter how much I despised it or tolerated it. Therefore I invariably do what I'm asked and/or told to do. In such situations, I've always felt that a sincere smile

Over the weekend I realized a couple things. (1) I hadn't made my annual attempt to reconnect with the one and only ex-girlfriend I don't communicate with, and (2) I love being at work more than I love being anywhere else. They weren't exactly epiphany level realizations, but still each had an impact on my psyche. I took care of the first by sending a social networking friend request. I was pleased to find out that I'm not blocked from her Facebook. She hardcore blocked me from Myspace back in the day; I couldn't see her profile much less send her a friend request or an email. Oh, and just in case you think she blocked me because I went all kinds of crazy when we broke up, I didn't. Neither did she for that matter. We parted amicably enough which is to say that we drifted apart with little fanfare or tears. She decided to stay with her husband and I decided to stay in Texas. From my perspective, it's worked out pretty well for all involved. Given my 'b

There's a part of me that would love to walk in, say hello, and kiss her. No asking and thus no chance for her to say no. Of course, we're talking about the ardently fearless part of me, the part that is apparently far more philosophical (and theological) than practical. But, man, if I could... If I could... I know it would change so many things. For the better, I mean. Definitely for the better. Yeesh. Think positively. In my day dreams, she opens the door and I step inside, like I have many times before in 'real life'. However, instead of the usual hug, I change things up. She pulls me close, but I pull her closer and meet her lips with mine. Soft, slow, searching, yet with an unexpected depth. She leans into me as my tongue touches hers, then hesitates slightly for the briefest of moments before melting into me. She doesn't pull away. Ever again. Ok, so the 'ever again' is part of the fantasy. I'm good, but not that good. I know the power of a kis

I know my friends mean well when they ask me about my love life. I think they fully expect an affirmative answer. They assume I'm going to have more to say than, 'eh...not so much'. This is probably why they have no idea what to say next and usually hit me with something like, 'Wow. That's really surprising. You're such an awesome person'. At this point I usually handicap it all by saying that I prefer being single, essentially meaning I could have a girlfriend if I wanted one. This is about half true. I do prefer being single, but more and more I wonder if it's just a rationalization intended to boost my sanity. My grandfather used to say that cooked carrots 'made him shake'. I never got it until they also made me shake. That's the way I also feel about relationships - they make me shake. I know if you like cooked carrots, you're not going to fully understand. How about peas? They oog me out too, the way they pop. I can eat them, but I

I have a crush on a girl. It took me by surprise as most crushes do. One moment I barely noticed her and the next I did. A lot. She's over thirty, quirky but not weird, pretty but not gorgeous, strong but not overbearing, and straight with an 'I've done chicks vibe'. She's not a Facebook friend, nor a blog reader which is how I'm learning to prefer my women. I can't say I'll invite her to be my 'friend' in the official social networking sense and I most definitely will not suggest my blogs. That said, I do plan to ask her out for coffee or a drink soon. Seriously, it's just a beverage. Not a ring, a date, or sex. I don't have an agenda; I just like hanging out with pretty girls I'm crushing on. Ok, that sounds a little like an agenda but I promise it's not. Not really. I don't plan for us to become anything more than friends. 'More than friends' means 'agenda'. 'Friends' means 'friends'. It'

I used to think that people cared. They don't. This isn't a bad thing. In actuality, it's a good thing. The fact is that unless they're a busy-body or some kind of zealot or fanatic, they aren't going to give much of a shit about anything that doesn't directly affect them. In general, most people wear blinders and can't see two feet in front of them. They are self-centered and self-absorbed. They may seem to care, but in actuality they just love the sound of their own voice or they don't want to focus on their own abysmal lives. That or they're trying to deflect criticism away from themselves because they are under the impression that people care. People don't care. They don't. I know I don't. People concern themselves with a lot, but I'd argue that they don't care about most of it. They want to stick their noses and fingers in everyone's business, but do they care? They love gossip. That's it. They want to know and they

I have a curious mind. It seldom rests (without pharmaceutical intervention). And for some reason, I feel the need to share. I share nearly everything anyway so it shouldn't come as a shock to anyone. In no particular order of importance... 1. It's been eight years and she apparently still can't openly communicate with me? Wow. I must be a bigger threat than I first estimated. Good to know. 2. I'm 'intimidating'. That explains a lot. Thank you. 3. A young gay man thinks I'm 'pretty' and wants me to 'teach him dirty things'. Hmm... It might be time to change my look. 4. If she misses me and I'm 'in (her) thoughts all the time', why doesn't she ever talk to me? Weird. 5. Two text messages. No response. They say 'Silence is golden'. I'm more inclined to think it's confusing. 6. If what I think is abnormal is truly normal, I think I'd prefer to be abnormal. 7. I'm half fearless. Unfortunately,

'Everyone knows where your heart is, Stacee.' ~ a text message from a friend supposedly explaining why no one dares to date me Alrighty... Question. So, where exactly is my heart? Everyone supposedly knows. I wish someone would tell me. I haven't used it much recently. Do they mean in Texarkana? It is a special place to me and part of me will always be there. I love my friends, my house, my dogs, and everything else that's there and not here (including my 'duck blanket' and the red bird house). But is that why women in Austin won't date me? They think I'm going to up and move back home on a moment's notice? They should probably ask me the pertinent questions before making such a rash assumption. Do they mean my job at The World's Largest Home Improvement Retailer? I do love my job. Then again, I've loved just about every job I've ever had there, except Front End Supervisor (no one sane loves that job). This job (Paint Department

I've decided to officially give up on people. After nearly forty-two years of trying, I just don't get them. At all. I got a degree in psychology because I thought it would help (it was also the easiest major I could find). It didn't. I studied exercise psychology in grad school because I thought it would help explain why people make unhealthy decisions (I was also an anorexic obsessed with fitness). It didn't. I've read books, observed, and analyzed until my eyes crossed and my stomach ached. Nada. I still don't understand why people do what they do 98% of the time. It's astounding really. The 'literature' is full of studies that say human behavior is predictable. Ha! Whatever! The only thing that's predictable is it's unpredictability. I've determined that people are going to do what they do. They are. It's simple and easy. And there's absolutely no explaining it. You see, I'm not about control. I don't want them to do

I'm going to start with a bit of honesty. I almost got out of bed last night and posted what The Words demanded that I write, but I decided to do something totally uncharacteristic and let them rest awhile. In a way, I'm glad I did. These words, I think, require explanation. They aren't the first to require such explanation; I just usually skip it and figure anyone who doesn't get it can suck it. Recently, however, I drew fire from a newer reader about a few of My Words. She thought they were about her. Indirectly they were, but directly they were about me. She just happened to be there when the demons started their dance, a nuance she didn't quite understand. What I want everyone to know is that My Words are about me, always, always, always. They are how I express my happiness, my curiosity, and my ideas. They are where my theories about life and spirit develop. They are also where I occasionally exorcise my demons. The Words she misunderstood were an exorcism of

A few years back, I started paying attention to number sequences. While my Christian brethren may think I'm decidedly full of shit, numbers are one way God speaks to me. Very often I ask and He responds with a number sequence. Be skeptical if you want, but it works for me and God. He prepares me for change (555) and reassures me when I'm unsure (222). He sends the enlightened ones to comfort me (333) and lets me know when my wishes are coming true (777). God also quizzes me a lot (A LOT) about what I want (111). The way I frame my thoughts tells Him my hopes, dreams, and serves as an affirmative prayer. It's all pretty amazing to me, whether anyone chooses to believe it or not. January 2011 is a unique month. It's 111 all month long. January, the first month of the year, 2011. 1-11 or, if you prefer, 1/11. Either way, it's a good omen. As an 'angel number', 111 marks a moment of opportunity, a chance to tell the Universe (God) what you want, a time to thin