Notes from the Red Bird House

I have a short attention span. This is fairly new to me and by 'fairly new' I mean within the last decade. Historically, I've been brutally impatient, yet remarkably able to delay gratification. Now, I'm just the opposite. I'm patient but have little tolerance for anything that I can't multi-task my way through. This is why I love to write and despise reading - I can do a multitude of things while I write, but must be focused to read. Focus means boredom. Boredom means, well, boredom. This is also why I don't watch movies, do puzzles, or knit. Interestingly enough, I love long road trips. Yes, I'm a study in contrasts. What's the moral of this story? After much thought, I've decided to give up on my most recent crush. Frankly, it's stalled and I'm bored. When I can kid myself that it might actually go somewhere or advance in some fashion, I'm in. When all that dims into the realm of the improbable and the humdrum, I'm out. It...

Part of me is in the mood for yet another beautiful disaster. It's been a minute. I just want to feel that kind of alive even if it only lasts a moment. I know as well as anyone how it'll turn out. Given my track record, it's going to suck for awhile. I'll dig in and she'll bail out. Hey, it happens. Part of me is good with that. The other part of me thinks I'm a fucking idiot. I have a good life - good friends, fun hobbies, and I'm finally fit again. This part of me asks the big questions, like why am I willing to give up even a moment of this good life to pursue something that's going to end up sucking? I'm skinny enough right now, so it's not like I need a stint on The Break Up Diet. Hell, I'm already back on the AEPs and I really don't want to increase my dosage or make regular visits to my shrink. I'm good as is, better than actually. It's just that there's something in me that needs something outside of me, even if i...

I've been single a long time now. I have crushes and I go on a few dates, but it's been forever since I've really considered 'being' with anyone. I'm not commitment phobic nor am I afraid of getting my heart broken. I just never seem to find anyone interesting who is also interested me. I'm not going to apologize for it or cry about it. It is what it is. Occasionally I wish it was different, but I honestly like things the way they are. I enjoy my life as is and I'm not really sure what I'd be willing to give up to make time for a committed sort of relationship. People love to tell me that it's all a rationalization. They say that I've been single too long and in order to maintain my sanity, I have to have some kind of 'viable' explanation. In other words, it's just easier to lie to myself and say that I really prefer being single. Of course the people saying this to me are never single. They're either serial daters or serial...

I think it's time I tried to cut back on caffeine. Over the past few months I've worked on aspartame, fiber, fruit, vegetables, and protein. I'm far from Stepford about it.  Simply put, I seek to make the best I choice I can in the moment I'm in but I allow myself to eat and drink what I want when I want it. My ardent hope is that I want what's good for me, however that's not always the case. I eat pizza, fast food burgers, and the occasional donut. I've also been known to enjoy a mango margarita or two. Some say I cut myself too much slack, that I should treat my body as a temple, that I should strive towards perfection. News flash, kids - there's never been anything perfect about me and I'm not going to start now. I like to meander down the path, not walk a tightrope. All that said, I do maintain a healthy focus. When I say that I drink margaritas and eat pizza, I don't mean every day. They may not be exclusively 'cheat day treats', b...

' Maybe it's a sign of weakness When I don't know what to say Maybe I just wouldn't know What to do with my strength anyway...' ~ from 'We Belong' by Pat Benetar I often wonder what I'd say if she showed up at my door either literally or figuratively. I know what I need to say, what I've planned to say. All that is great in theory, but in practice? Would I be strong enough to say what I need to say? Or would I fall back on chicken shit? There's really no telling with me. For all my best intentions and propositions of strength and resolve, I'm just not sure. Moments like that are rare in my world. They don't ask so I don't have to decide or tell. That said, I still feel the need to be prepared. Just in case. I've gone over it in my head many, many times. And each time I say the right thing. I'm strong, courageous even. Steadfast, unbroken, firm. I say what I need to say and close the door. I let go of the door handle,...

I started reading The Bible in September. On a whim, I signed up for an on-line reading plan that gave me daily reading assignments designed to help me stay focused and finish within a calendar year. I knew I'd never be able to do it on my own. I'm not a reader and I had little faith in myself. I knew I'd need some kind of crutch to help me slog my way through. You see, I've always been more about the experience of God than what 'His' book had to say. Plus I was never really too keen on the Biblical stuff I'd stumbled upon or that had been thrown in my face over the years. The last thing I ever wanted to do was sit down and read the damn thing cover-to-cover. However, I was rapidly growing weary of people telling me that I didn't know God because I'd never read 'His' word (meaning The Bible, I think), so I decided I may as well see what all the fuss was about. It probably wouldn't kill me and at the very least it would give me a stronger ...

I'm going the right way. I know I am. With my head clearer than it's been in years, I'm remembering so much I hadn't even realize I'd forgotten. The person I am today is the person I used to be; the person I've almost always been. When I look back on my life, I see things. I understand things. I'm the same as ever and as different as ever. Who I am right now sitting here in Austin, Texas is the same girl who hated fourth grade and Sixth Grade Camp; the same girl who was well liked but never popular; the same girl who was happier alone than anywhere else, the same girl who always knew she wasn't like everyone else. What I never thought about then, but truly understand now, is that I am happiest when I am true to myself. Over the years I've tried to make myself 'fit'. I did what I was 'supposed' to do. To an extent. Let's be clear, I've never completely fit in. Ever. That said, I often tried to slide a couple standard deviatio...

Well, I've officially been off the Anti-Everything Pills (AEPs) for almost two weeks. I wasn't exactly aware of everything that they made 'anti' until I stopped taking them. Six months is a long time, especially when changes evolve slowly and life gets really good (read: distracting) while medicated. I'm here to tell you that pharmaceutically-induced sanity is a wonderful thing. So wonderful, in fact, that in the midst of my happy, anxiety-free state, I apparently ignored or failed realize a few things. First of all, not only did the AEPs help my brain function a little smoother, they also assisted in gastrointestinal regularity. You see, serotonin lives in the brain AND the 'gut' (as my doctor so non-scientifically put it last week). I'm not going to go into the gory details, but please suffice it to say that increased serotonin levels in MY 'gut' are a very good thing. The currently decreasing serotonin levels are proving to be a major pain. ...

I don't want much in life. I try to mostly want things within my sphere of influence and stay away from wanting things firmly in my sphere of concern (to reference a little Stephen Covey). It's bad to want things you have no control over getting. It leads to frustration and invariably fist pounding and maybe a little whining. Given that I hate all of those things, I choose to want differently. For the most part. I'm not perfect. Assuredly there are things I want that I have absolutely no control over. I mean I can talk to God and put positive thoughts out there in the hopes that prayers and thoughts become things, but I'm not going to hold my breath or stand on one foot until they come to pass. Remember, I'm a realist. Somethings are bound to happen and others...? Well, let's just agree that, while faith is good, there's no telling. Add to that the fact that I am BROKE (caps intended) and can't afford a damn thing and we've got a little puddle of wat...

'Forever can never be long enough for me To feel like I've had long enough with you...' ~ from 'Marry Me' by Train I thought I needed forever. Turns out, I didn't. Once upon a time we talked about sixty years (I think that's what it was... It's been far too long... I'm not sure I remember); we got eight months. I'm not mad at it, though at the time I was pretty destroyed by it. I will say this - eight years provides a lot of perspective and a whole lot of Grace. That's why I can confidently say that I didn't need forever. I'm good with what I got - an incredible eight months, followed by several months of heartbreak, followed by the rest of my life. Honestly, I hadn't thought of that day in a long, long time. And even when a friend asked me where I got the tank top I was wearing, I didn't think of all of it. I knew where I got it - the Abercrombie & Fitch outlet store at Gurnee Mills Mall in Chicago, Illinois. I k...

Today a friend told me that I'm inspiring and another told me that I'm intimidating. I think these two, while obviously not mutually exclusive, are unrelated. I am doubtful that I am (1) inspiring because I'm intimidating and/or (2) intimidating because I'm inspiring. If asked I'll categorically deny all of it. I certainly don't look in the mirror and see 'inspiring' or 'intimidating'; I usually see 'Stacee'. She's pretty cool and all, but inspiring and/or intimidating? Not hardly. I'm not sure I'm good with the image I'm projecting. I'm decisively unapproachable. Some say it's because I'm 'so inspiring' or 'so intimidating'. Others say it's because of the ring I wear on my left hand. Now, I agree there might be some credence to the ring thing. I've worn it on my left ring finger since the day I got it. It just fits better there. For more reasons than one. The platonic love of my life ...

'What's left of me is more than I started with.' ~ from a social networking status post by Stacee Harris I've taken my share of beatings. Some were at the hands of others, but surprisingly some I've given myself. I've broken up and broken down. I've been left and done the leaving. I've stayed when I should have left; left when I should have stayed. I've fucked up royal and been fucked up royal. I've had my share of 'randoms' and been the 'random' one. I've forgotten names of people who won't forget me and been forgotten by people I will remember forever. I've been left for dead and been left feeling happy to be alive. I've been stripped naked and done the stripping. I've been nothing more often than something, but in the end I always come out feeling like I'm everything. Eventually. Because of all that, there are things I know. I can't trade any of it. I regret nothing. Not how I treated myself o...

I feel like I'm beyond tired and it's not helping a thing. I want a drink. I should be at the gym. And I'm cooking dinner. Granted it's a reasonably healthy dinner, including a small serving of sugar snap peas, but I still feel like I'm not doing what I should be doing. I know I shouldn't be drinking and at this point I'm fighting the good fight on that front. I should be at the gym or, at the very least, I should be on the Spin bike. I keep telling myself that I'll walk after dinner, however while it's a decent enough activity, it's never going to get me where I want to go fitness wise. So, I'm right back to where I started - beyond tired. In my defense, I've been running at a sprint for nearly two weeks. It all started at 5:30pm the Friday before my birthday and it was still going when I left work tonight at 5:00pm. In the meantime, I've worked, laid in the sun, drank, shot guns, worked on a friend's house, met a friend for di...

I can't wait to tell all the haters to suck it. Well, maybe not the 'haters' as much as the 'ignorers'. I don't have haters necessarily. These days I don't draw nearly enough attention for that kind of attention. People don't hate me anymore;  I guess that's the good news. Of course, they don't seem to like me with any kind of renewed fervor either. I'm largely ignored, pigeon-holed for lack of a better word. People don't not like me, but they don't seem to like me either. I'm stuck in a weird nether-world of ignorance. By that I mean ignorance of me. And believe me, as uncharacteristic as it may seem, I'm ready to tell them all to suck it. It's not about vindication. It's about a lesson, an opening of minds. I know that when my world takes off and ignorance of me becomes rare, people will want to jump on the bandwagon - my band wagon. They'll want a piece of me, a handout, or to simply say they 'know me'...