Notes from the Red Bird House

There are many 'rules' that we should all live by. I'm not talking about 'The Ten Commandments' or 'The Bill of Rights'. Of course, you won't find me arguing with God or our Founding Fathers. I'm cool with 'Thou Shalt Not Kill' and 'the right to bear arms'. And goodness knows, I'm awesome with the freedom of speech. In contrast, my rules are a tad bit more... practical and up-to-date. So, without further ado... Stacee's Ten Rules to Live By... 1) If you start the day wearing a hat, plan to finish the day wearing a hat. Unless you shower. Which serves as a reset button for your hair. 2) If you have something to hide, hide it well. I guarantee you someone will ferret it out. Especially if you leave your life (ie. your phone and computer) un-password protected. 3) If you were a dork in highschool, remember that you will always be a dork in high school. In other words, you can't change the past. It might, however, be pru...

There is always something to be learned. Usually right when I think I've got it figured out, it changes. Or maybe it's the same as it always was, but I never quite saw it from the right angle. Hey, I'm human. I make assumptions based on what I think I know just like everyone else. Then I get blown. Just like everyone else. Unlike some, I take it as a learning experience. You don't know what you don't know til you know what you know. Knowledge is power as they say. Tonight, I'm feeling pretty powerful. Inadvertently perhaps, but powerful nonetheless. I'm good with this new information. It doesn't change a whole lot. Really it doesn't. I'm going to take it for what it is and move forward. It doesn't make any sense to wallow in what I thought was because the only thing that matters is what is. And while what is may be different than I initially expected and assumed, it's not the end of the world. I'll live and learn and get on with ...

I suppose there is that. I'm not sure what 'that' is, but I suppose it's there. Either way, I'm just over it. Whatever 'it' is. Truthfully, here isn't much I'm sure about these days. I know I like me, my job, my house, my writing, and my running.  I miss my dogs, need to rent out my house in Texarkana, and pay off some medical bills. All in all, the Me part of my life is exceptional. The rest? Others? Everything that isn't directly related to me? It's all 'eh' at best. And surprisingly, I'm frighteningly good with it. I've seldom needed much outside of myself and I'm finding that to be especially true recently. My patience is thin and my tolerance low. I expend so much energy being at the beck and call of my one hundred plus co-workers, running point on a massive roll-out, and decreasing my per mile times while increasing my miles run that I have little left over at the end of the day for anything that isn't food or ...

There came a time when I just had to stop. Stop worrying. Stop fussing. Stop crying. Stop whining. Above all, I had to stop wanting what didn't want me. It's an attractive mess. It is. I fully admit that. Hell, I spent the majority of my thirties living on its couch. If only this... If only that... She will see. She will. She'll get it. Eh... She, whoever 'she' was, never did. I honestly thought my 'lesson' in this life was to learn patience. God sent these women my way to teach me how to wait. And one day, if I waited long enough, I'd get everything I ever wanted - someone to love me. Yeah, that was never going to happen. It was all bullshit; a really cool kind of bullshit, but bullshit nonetheless. You see, along the way I learned something even more important than patience. I learned about peace and faith. Once I found those, I stopped worrying about patience and discovered that I had everything I ever wanted - someone to love me. Of course, tha...

Surprisingly enough I feel okay this morning. After yesterday's (seemingly) fatal training error, I thought I'd be a lot worse off today. In one short week, I increased my long run from six miles to ten. Not only did I run a fast eight on Tuesday, I decided to go a slow ten yesterday. So, in addition to lengthening my long run, I also nearly doubled my weekly mileage from a wimpy ten or twelve to twenty. For the uninitiated, these are two monster no-no's. 'They' (the running Illuminati ) would shake their heads and tsk a few times in disdain before loudly telling me that I'm fucking stupid. Especially at the ripe old age of forty-two after not running for twenty years and with a paltry three month running base. Eh... Like I've ever cared what 'they' think. I've had running coaches before. Two of them actually. At the same time. One was conservative and liked to shove me around on training runs. I think he was secretly jealous of my simmering ta...

I think I've finally decided on tattoos ten and eleven. I knew the right idea would come to me if I just sat back and let it. And funny, it came in a burst of two. Since I can't decide which one I want to get, I'm going to get both all in one shot. It won't be the first time I've gotten two tattoos in one day. Numbers 5 and 6 were a two-for-one back in 2006. I'm not scared. Pain is pain and the permanence of the message is well worth it. I've been planning #10 since I got #9 in February 2009. I've gone a long time, far longer than I ever expected. I got three in '06 (4, 5, and 6) and one in '07 (7), '08 (8), and '09 (9). It's not that I haven't wanted one; I just wasn't sure what I wanted. I don't put any old thing on my body, especially when I can't etch-a-sketch it off when it gets old. Like all the rest, these will have a story. Or tell a story. I no longer wear my heart on my sleeve; I wear my story on my body i...

I'd like to clear up a few misconceptions about me. While I'm in an exhausted and borderline pissy mood. I suppose given that disclaimer, readers can take everything I say with a grain of salt. I mean, if I was in a better mood, would have written this at all? I guess we'll never know. This mood is the mood we have so we'll just have to go with it. In no particular order of importance... Because I love writing and I love books, I also love to read - This is probably by far the largest misconception about me. Reading is a beating. There is no other way to put it. Unless it's a short magazine article, I'm probably not going to finish it. I own quite a few books. I've just haven't read most of them. I love people - I'm friendly, nice, and outgoing, so I must love people, right? Wrong. It's not that I dislike people. I simply have a super low tolerance when it comes to social interaction. When I've had enough, I've had enough. At that poi...

As for tonight, three was three too many. Before I even drank one sip, I was flirting with two women. One was present and one was via text message. When you start a night like that, there's nowhere to go but down. My last text after three Baby A's mango margaritas? Yepper, I confessed to a totally inappropriate crush. Lord Jesus. You gotta love plausible deniability. I said what? Yeah, well... I was drunk. Drunk. It's a miracle I made it home. Suuuure. Unfortunately, I always speak the truth and even more of it when I've been drinking. Yes, three was three too many tonight. Let's review... Stone Cold Sober - Hey, don't I know you? Yeah, good going, Stacee. In addition, even before my first sip of mango margarita, I sent a picture to a pretty girl. And I don't even like blondes. In general. After Margarita #1 - Pictures posted to Facebook and sent to a pretty girl's girlfriend. I feel good about sending the picture. Even though it was blurry. Durin...

It's no secret. I like pretty girls. And if I'm being brutally honest, I like pretty straight girls. I hate to dichotomize the world into gays and straights, but it's real. Straight girls are just different. In a good way. Lesbians (dykes, gay girls) are well... fucked up. Maybe I don't get out enough or circulate enough, but I've lived in three distinct communities of lesbians and I can say with absolute certainty that the crazy ones BY FAR out number the normal ones. It's not entirely their fault. Live in a world that by and large damns you to Hell and I promise you sanity becomes more difficult. It's just that a lot of lesbians wear 'fucked up' like it's a badge of honor. They blame their 'oppresssors' for everything that has befallen them and deny any and all responsibility for their actions. They wave a rainbow flag and try to get attention for their cause all the while pushing the sane world away with their craziness. What they fa...

The gods are conspiring against me. I'm sure it's a sign. A sign of what? The coming apocalypse? The Rapture? Golly, I hope not. I want to get one more mango margarita and slice of pizza in before all that goes down. I think it's a sign that I need to be healthier and drink less. Eh.......... What do the gods know anyway? I'm not saying that they were working together on this one, but yesterday the Pizza Gods and Mango Margarita Gods both decided to make my life a shade more disappointing. Don't get me wrong, I hold the ultimate power in our relationship so I managed to make it come out in my favor. It's not always easy to put a happy spin on things, but somehow I did it yesterday. Imagine a hostage kicking and screaming as he's thrown in the back of a white panel van with a hood over his head and you'll get the picture. Trust me, I wanted to wallow and be pissed off that things didn't go my way. However, in my usual aggravating Suzie Sunshine fash...

I'm not sure what I want to write about tonight. I've got a zillion things running through my very tired brain and I'm certain focus is going to be an issue. So, before I completely frustrate myself and bag writing for the night, I'm going to set my standards super low. Realistically so, but low nonetheless. Today was Inventory Day at The World's Largest Home Improvement Retailer and I'm fried. It was also Wednesday. Add to that the usual bullshit of life (which has been extraordinarily bull shitty over the past week or so) and you might understand why I'm choosing to lower the bar a tad. It's either write, sleep, or drink prodigious amounts of alcohol. Given that it's only 7:00pm, I have to work at 6:00am, and I'm broke 'til pay day, writing it is. With or without focus. Alrighty, here we go. Tonight's topic? A whole lot of nothing. It's not going to be a Top Ten List (mostly because I don't think I have the energy to think u...

Thank God for 'nonsense' crushes. Why are they 'nonsense'? Because the chances of them becoming reality are slim, slim, slim. What's the point? Ah... Good question. Because the chances of them becoming reality are slim, slim, slim. There's safety in make believe. For someone like me, I mean. I'm better at relationships when they stay safely in my head. It's not that I'm a bad girlfriend; I'm actually pretty decent at it when I'm properly motivated. It's just that I'm so seldom properly motivated. Sure, that says a lot about me but it says even more about the quality of women willing to entertain reality with me. Traditionally my 'dating partners' haven't been the swiftest gazelles in the herd. This means that I tend to get bored quickly and then any motivation I may have once had wanes exponentially. The women I crush on are usually of slightly higher quality. I suppose if any of them ever gave me the time of day, I...

Let me just assure everyone - nothing compares to listening to the love of your life have sex with her new boyfriend. Sure, you can rationalize that it doesn't sound like she's having as good a time with him as she did with you, but reality is fucking reality. No matter how you frame it, it's gonna hurt like a bitch - a big, fat, vile, venom-spewing BITCH. All that said, I don't hate her or anyone. Life is what it is, lessons get learned, and Grace appears. The Grace in the little scenario above? Getting cheated on, lied to, passed over, and/or hearing the truth will never hurt again. I gained an inordinate amount of perspective those nights I had to listen to her orgasms coming from the next room. I go back to that pain whenever I feel a chink in my armor coming on. I remember, feel it all again, and realize that what I'm going through now ain't nothing in comparison. Therefore, I'm not as fragile as I look. I've endured and I will assuredly endure ...

I've been waiting awhile now. Waiting, but not waiting. It's not like I've been wiling away the time in some spiritual waiting room reading old copies of 'Women's Day' for two years. Maybe the better term would be 'lingering'. Yes, I've been 'lingering'. Loitering, hanging out, hanging around. I've always been certain that my turn would come eventually and I still think it will. I'm just not sure it's what I want anymore. Standing in line brings enlightenment. If I'd gotten what I wanted two years ago, I'd have learned all these lessons the hard way. Now, I know what I know and while painful, it's a different kind of pain. I'm disappointed, but not heart broken. It think I'm on the right side of good on this one. The truth rolls out slowly. It does. I made all kinds of rationalizations and really, really hoped that I wasn't seeing what I was seeing, but there came a time when reality became overwhelming...

I'm here for now. Two years ago today I arrived in Austin. I hoped for the best and forgot to plan for the worst. Hindsight says I'll be better prepared for my next move. Thinking back on the Hell I went through, it's amazing that I'm still here. And by 'here', I mean 'alive' not merely 'in Austin'. It's no secret that I didn't cope well with leaving my entire world behind. Truthfully, it was more difficult than I ever imagined. And yet, I'd do it all again. And probably will. I can't say I'll do it again soon, but I am growing restless and restless is never a good sign. I like Austin better than when I first got here, however 'liking' a place has never been a prerequisite for staying. I've 'liked' most of the places I've lived. It just never meant that I wanted to stay indefinitely. I can't imagine ever calling some place 'home' and wanting to stay there 'forever'. You see, I'...

I'm sitting in church. And writing. Needless to say, I'm not exactly interested. I have no idea what the pastor is talking about. Not because I don't get. It all has to do with where I'm choosing to place my attention. I'm here but I'm not. I'm barely half listening. Let me focus for a moment. Ok, he's talking about rain and I assume he's going to talk about 'spiritual drought' eventually. Or maybe we're just going to pray for rain. Oy. I like his voice and for all I know he's saying something really cool. Not to worry. My subconscious will pick up on it and I'll shift attention. If nothing else, I'm a righteously awesome multi-tasker. Whoops, he just mentioned the Old Testament. The mere mention of the O.T. makes me shut down. I hope I didn't sigh audibly. So, why did I come to church this morning, only to not pay attention? I'd like to be able to say it's about a girl, like 90% of my life. Not that I'm oppo...

I truly think that only people in committed relationships should be allowed to get zits. It's not easy out here in the single world. Because we're competing against what seems like a zillion other singles for the one or two good ones left, we must maintain a state of constant vigilance. It requires diligence and attention to detail. The moment you let down for even the briefest instant, you'll finally meet Ms. Right. Of course, she'll take one look at you and roll her eyes in disgust. And that's a best case scenario. The lucky folks in committed situations can let themselves go. They've already found The One and no longer need to compete. Simply put, they're off the market and as such have it easy. They can get a zit on a Friday afternoon and not panic. They can go to the gym or HEB looking like they just got done washing the car. And that's if they still go to the gym. Committed people are allowed to get fat. They can eat whatever they want and skip t...

I don't think they knew we were sleeping together. At the time. I'm pretty sure they all know now. It came out eventually. Mostly because I told. The statute of limitations on that little secret wore out pretty quick. At that point, I felt it was okay to talk about it. After all, I was done and so was she. Plus, by the time I told, she was divorced. It wasn't that I was so proud of what I'd done that I had to shout it from the roof tops, but when our 'friendship' came up in conversation I didn't shy away from the truth. For the most part, I'm all about the truth. As long as it's not going to get me killed. This is why I waited until I felt it was safe. Now, I have been known to keep other secrets for years. I usually say it's 'their story' to tell, but I only ever half believe it. It's usually because a few remnants of love remain. It's not that I'm afraid to piss them off because I still hold out hope. I just retain a modicum...

A friend asked me last night if I was ready to share my life with someone. I answered, 'yes', but added that it needed to be the right person. She didn't realize that my very small qualification essentially made my 'yes' answer superfluous fluff and her question completely irrelevent. I don't think there is a 'right' person and that's not just me bullshitting out of fear of commitment, heartbreak, and/or failure. In nearly forty-two and a half years, I have never met my equal. That slims the odds a little. It's not that I think I'm better than anyone. We're talking about equal signs, not greater thans or less thans. For better or worse, I am different. I see the world, God, spirit, connectivity, etc in a way that few understand and even fewer aspire to. We may seem similar on the outside; I'm good at making myself 'look' like everyone else so most never realize just how different I am. I talk about what most people talk abou...