Why did I stop blogging?

This blog is dying if I don't get my ass in gear. I suck at committing to things. I'm an epic failure when it comes to doing stuff on a regular basis. In an effort to punish myself I am going to share with you a couple of things  that will be horrifying for me to type. Hopefully exposing a festering wound to the general public will make me blog more? I'm not sure, but here goes...

Thing Number One: Thunderstorms make me poop
When I a kid, thunderstorms scared me. When I was around 20, I remember hiding under the covers of my futon in my apartment in Pennsylvania during a thunderstorm. I would unplug everything: tv, coffee maker, air conditioning, lamps, alarm clock...it all got unplugged. When I was in my mid-20's I had calmed down enough to not have to unplug and hide. Instead, I would imagine lightening hitting the building and travelling into the house via the stove and blowing a giant fireball out of the oven. That was enough to keep me out of the kitchen during a thunderstorm. Another visual was lightening getting into the cable line and shooting through the cable box and into the remote. Luckily, I solved this by turning the remote so that it was no longer facing the box...because that would keep me from dying. I also invented this scenario where if you had to pee during a thunderstorm that the lightening would hit the building, traveling through the sewer pipe and into the water where it would shoot up into your body via the connection between your pee stream and the water, You would instantly explode. This death fantasy also works with poop. So now, when the thunder rolls, I have to shit. Every time. I have a subconscious death wish to die on the shitter.

You couldn't just hold it, could you. Now you've exploded to death.

Thing Number Two: I stopped shaving my legs for like, TWO YEARS when I was in my early 20's 
It was freeing and creepy at the same time. My skin is really pale and my leg hair is dark so it was like having dude legs. I decided to do it because I was tired of feeling like I had to shave my legs all the time. I already hated shorts because my legs were so pasty (but they will be beautiful when I am an old lady. I plan on dressing like a whore when I get really old), and I figured any guy who was able to get past my obnoxious personality wouldn't care about leg hair. So I stopped shaving my legs. No worries, I still did my lady landscaping and still shaved my pits, but there is nothing unhygienic about leaving your leg hair alone (I say that because I think guys should shave their pits. Deodorant smells better on bare skin then on pit hair and I think it's the bacteria that grows on the hair that can make it extra B.O-esque). Then one day, I just decided to shave again. No reason really, just decided to do it. I'm such a weirdo.

OK, there you have it. Don't tell anyone, OK? That actually felt pretty good. It was like taking a word dump, with you in the room...thanks for sitting on the edge of the dirty tub in my mind's bathroom while I typed some shit into the shiny white void commonly referred to as the internet.

Now, go find some really nasty internet porn to help you forget about my confessions. Do it because you can...because you don't live in China.

Happy Web-sploring!
Dana C.

X Marks the Spot

There are lots of words that start with an X, but there are very few that I am familiar with. So I decided we could all get a little smarter today and learn some X words. Here we go:

Xanthippe: ill-tempered woman
I know nothing about this. I had to look up "ill tempered". Then I had to look up irritable, since I know nothing about that word either. While searching for "irritable woman" I came across my husband's blog. Jimmy, you and I are going to have a LONG talk when you get home from work. 


Xenobiotic : indicating a substance or item foreign to the body
This is one term an ER doctor has to use when he discovers the drunk guy getting his stomach pumped for alcohol poisoning also has the broken neck of a liquor bottle stuck in his ass.


Xenogamy: cross-fertilization
That sounds HOT. And creepy. Although it's probably less exciting in reality than what's going on in my head right now.


Xenomania: inordinate attachment to foreign things
World, meet my make-up. I am in love with it. Go ahead and judge. I don't even give a shit. 


Xenomenia: menstruation from abnormal orifices
...da fuck? Rag-mata? Where...how...my brain just melted in horror. How can it come out of another orifice? I can't handle this. I wanted to learn more, so I googled it. I found a site that was supposed to tell me what causes xenomenia. It didn't. And there was an article about Kama Sutra on the same page. It just made it worse. I closed the browser and hid under a blanket on the couch.


Xerotripsis: dry friction
The title of the book my jeans are writing (bah-dum ching!)


Xesturgy: process of polishing
The subtitle of the book my jeans are writing (wah-wah-wah-waaaaaaahhhhhh)



Then I came across perhaps the best X words I have seen:


Xylophagous: wood-eating
*tee hee hee*...gobble gobble.


Xylology: study of wood
*giggle giggle*...get in there real close and ingrain my vein in your brain. Observe my nerve. Remember the member. I could go on for days....


Xylomancy: divination by examining wood found in one's path
So the next time someone sticks their dong through a hole in the ladies (or men's) room, don't be angry. Tell the future. The future is growing right before your eyes...


Xylotherapy: use of certain sorts of wood in treating disease
OK, Jim. You win THIS time.


Xylophilous: fond of wood
Oh yeah...


Xylopolist: one who sells wood
Visit the rest stop on 146 South for more details.


Xylopyrography: engraving designs on wood with hot poker
Engraved wood says: I own you...well maybe not you, but I own your dong.

Xylotomous: wood-cutting; wood-boring
If you count the rings inside, you can tell how old it is.

I hope you have enjoyed these new words. Try to use them in ways that will enrich both your vocabulary, and perhaps your sex life :)

Stay Hungry Everyone,
Dana C.

W: Why did I make another video?!?!

Videos are hard. They take all day for really dumb stuff like timing and music and fading and oh my god it's just not easy. This video, which is about two and a half minutes long, took me about 4 or 5 hours to make. Granted, I didn't really plan any of it but I had a general idea of what it would look like so it wasn't a complete fuster-cluck to shoot and take the pics and whatnot. But I'm telling you, editing is just not my thing.

In fact, I noticed after saving off a separate copy in a YouTube compatible format, that I have some screens with bold words and others without. Some things could be centered better. There's a couple of weird skips in there. But you know what? I'm not "fixing" them. They're fine the way they are. Accepting something as it is means accepting and loving the flaws because they are part of that thing's makeup, just as much as the good or perfect parts of it. That's the lazy girl's way of thinking :)

So, please enjoy Meow x 5: Part 2, and thank you for watching!

Happy New Year!

Dana C.

Vapid

Violence on TV and the computer has already numbed me to the acts of bad people, this I know. When horrible stories are shared, I barely feel them. They are pictures on a screen, poorly taken cell phone footage, eyewitnesses and the media are just actors reading lines, playing a part. That's just how it is for me.With everything that happened in CT yesterday, I feel empty and unmotivated to contribute. Yesterday and today, the Internet is an overwhelming emotional roller coaster of grief, sadness, anger, fear, and opinions. While some folks may thrive on the emotional debates that come out of these acts of violence, I have nothing to offer. I am in my own head. I don't want to hear or see anymore than I already have. So today, no Facebook. No CNN.com, no local news site gathering the opinions of those in my town on the tragedy that occurred, no articles listing the statistics of violence in the US, or countries with more gun laws, no trying to tie yesterday's events to previous acts of violence or any of that. I have relocated into my own mind where I choose to deal (or not deal) with this. I understand that for many people, the Internet is a place to share their stance, to take sides, or to try and show others why they feel the way they feel, but I'm not feeling it today. I am numb to it all. The out pouring of emotion and passion and sadness has pushed me to the point of empty.

I used to think that I joked around a lot because I didn't want to show my true self, but I realized that it's just because I like to try and choose who gets to see the real me and my emotions. I guess that's why stuff like this just makes me shut down. There is a tidal wave of emotions and opinions, and victims, and grief, and sadness, and the pictures of prayer candles and "thoughts going out to the victims and families" feel like they have no value because there's just too much of it. I know that's a terrible thing to say, it's just how I feel. To me, the outpouring of support and the politics that go along with it...it's like walking into a room where the walls, floors ceilings and every single content is painted the same shade of grey. There's so much of it, that it looks like nothing. A room full of emptiness.

I know it's fucked up but I can't help it. And since everyone else gets to share their feelings on the Internet, I can too. But I'm not posting this on Facebook. I'm done with that today. I don't even care if anyone reads this, to be honest. I just needed to get it out of my head.

Dana C.

Unlike Me

My blog mentor and friend posted a contest from the Facebook page of The Inn at Weathersfield:

Look what we found in the basement! As far as we know, no one ever swam in the pond. So...tell us how this life preserver ended up at the inn. The story can be true or not. The best - we'll be the judge - will receive major bragging rights and a $50 gift certificate to be used at the inn.

I am not a writer, nor am I a contest person. But I couldn't stop thinking about this picture once I saw it. This story started forming in my mind...it was not like the usual things I think of. There was nothing offensive, or dark, or funny about it. Could I write something like that? Where would I even begin? I paced around a bit, psyching myself up to write. I sat down and looked up the Inn's website, and found a picture of a bedroom with a fireplace in it, which sealed the deal for me (you'll see why later on). I knew I had to write this story. I knew that even though I had made it up in my head, that it really WAS the answer to their question. So, without further ado, I present to you my contest submission...

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In the summer of 1776 in Philadelphia , a happily married couple spent a weekend in August celebrating the birthday of their 6 year old son, Jack. Jack was their only child after many years of trying, and his birthday riding on the coattails of the signing of the Declaration of Independence was cause for much celebration. Jack's parents knew what an exciting time they were in, and they had very high hopes for their son. They wanted him to go into this world with all of the opportunities that the newly formed country was offering. Jack grew up in a loving home, with the world as his oyster.

  

Dianna was a sweet 4 year old girl the summer Jack turned 6. The stress of her long birth was too much for her mother. Despite the tragedy surrounding her birth, Dianna was the heart of her family. Her father made sure she knew what a wonderful woman she came from, and her grandmother lived with them, along with her aunt and uncle, her 5 cousins, and older brother. They lived as indentured servants, in a small 3 room house on a farm in South Carolina under the t"rule" of a cruel farmer. They knew they were never going to earn their keep to be able to gain their freedom, so one night under the supervision of their father, Dianna's older brother took her and they ran. They lived off of the kindness of strangers, working odd jobs to eat, and made it to Massachusetts the year Dianna turned 16.

 

While Dianna and her brother were settling into freedom and establishing a new life in the city of Boston, Jack had came into his own independence. An 18 year old hard working man, he had been on fishing boats since his father took him crabbing in the Chesapeake Bay at the age of 13. In the spring of 1788 Jack was in Boston working on the different boats and gaining a reputation of a great deckhand worth every share he earned. Dianna had found steady work washing the offloads of the fish and crab boats. From the moment they met during an offload, Jack knew he was in love.

 

Dianna did not want to be involved with Jack. He was a white man, and her brother had told her never to trust a white man's interest in her. But something told her Jack was different. Through his tough exterior his eyes were kind, loving, and pure. Jack was determined to make Dianna his forever. He knew it seemed impossible...he was going to spend his entire life defending him and his wife's pure love from the hate of others. But his love had overshadowed the realities of the world. After a year of secret dates, stolen kisses, and hidden glances, he decided to do something about it.

 

He took her away for a summer weekend in Vermont, to a quiet town in Southern Vermont. Laying under the stars that first night in a clearing he had picked out, they fell asleep gazing into each others eyes, feeling content for the first time in their lives. The next day, he got down on one knee in the middle of the clearing and said to her, "Dianna, I have nothing but my love for you in my heart. You have made me feel like my life is worth living and I am going to live it with you. I have bought this land to build you a home. Here we will live, get married, and have babies. We will turn our love into a family of love and we will share that love with this town and they will have no choice but to love us back. I know this will happen because my heart tells me so...." She smiled down on him and started to ask, "But how..." and he continued, "I have no idea", he said with tears in his eyes, "But we will do it all. I don't have a ring to make this promise because I spent all of my savings on this land to build our home, but I found something that I hope you will accept" He got up, ran over to his bag, and pulled out a life buoy. As he jogged back, she couldn't help but giggle at his innocence and sweetness. Back down on one knee, he said "We use these on our boats. If one of us falls in the water, we throw it to them to keep them afloat until we can pull them back in. It's called a kisby ring and I think it better shows you how I feel than any silly ring you would wear on your finger. It's my promise to keep you afloat, to always be there to support you and to save you if you need to be saved. You will have me to hold onto whenever you need me. Forever" She took the kisby ring and threw her arms around his neck, tears streaming down her face. "Forever?", she whispered in his ear. "Forever", he confirmed.

 

A few years later, they were settling into their new home that Jack built. It was just starting to snow and Dianna was bustling around the house. "Jack, can you come help me hang this over the hearth?". Jack walked into their bedroom, his heart swelling with love at the sight of his wife carrying their first child. "Dianna, why in God's earth are you doing with that silly life buoy?"

 

"I'm hanging it over the fireplace. This is the symbol of our love, and of our family. I want it to be here in the room when the baby is born. I want the story of our love to be the first thing the baby hears. And when they get married and build their first home, they will have the tradition of hanging their own family symbol in their home" He hung the life buoy over the fireplace, and turned to wife, "You are an amazing woman, and you are going to be an even more amazing mother. I love you".

 

"Forever?", she said playfully.

 

"Forever", he confirmed.

 

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So, that was my contest submission. I hope you enjoyed it. I feel a little funny about sharing it because it's not funny, or gross. It doesn't even have a swear word in it, but it's still me.

 

Dana C.

Tubin' Again

I should have cleaned today. I should have done more laundry. I should have gone to the grocery store and bought groceries. Instead of doing any of those things, I made a vlog.

I watch YouTube videos all the time. I am subscribed to a bunch of different YouTubers and my husband told me I should make a real video and post it. He says I'm funny. I think it's just because he wants to have sex with me and he knows compliments get me hot.

This "work of shart" took me way to long to shoot, edit, save, convert and upload . Maybe that's because I have no idea how to use or find free video editing software, so I used the free Windows shite that came on the PC? Who knows. All I know is that in just a few short hours, I was able to birth my first actual edited vlog. Boner Petit!

MEOW X 5

If you enjoyed this vlog, let me know and please subscribe to my YouTube Channel (click HERE). I have some footage for Part 2 already shot so if everyone hates it I will delete it off of my phone through a veil of tears...

Dana C.

S: Stuck

I have writer's block. My brain is absolutely empty of things to write about. It's strange because I normally have a lot to say about nothing but for some reason, there's just nothing there. I don't know if it's just this time of year...there's so much distraction with holidays and politics and maybe all that crap just takes the space where my imagination lives. But I need to write. I need to get something out. It's like there's a shit log in my brain and I'm constipated, unable to push out the words.

"In Ernest Hemingway’s memoir A Moveable Feast, (my all time favorite book. If you haven't read it, do it. It's amazing) he recalls days spent in Paris suffering from writer’s block.  Hemingway tells himself, “’Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.’” 


One true sentence. That's scary to me for some reason. What I share something TOO true? What if I write something that, while it may be true, has no value? Whatever. I need to just get over this. Here are some truths:


I love bad TV. I like to watch Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. Jersey Shore, Sister Wives, Celebrity Rehab, etc. I will watch anything that looks like it will make me more stupid. What dumb TV shows or movies do you not usually share with people?

I love bad food. My #1 is Hot Pockets. I love them all: Hot Pockets, Lean Pockets, Pretzel Pockets, Breakfast Pockets. I love them all. There are 2 in the box, so 2 is a meal. They are incredible. I could eat them every night for dinner, no joke. I also love sugar. More than anything...except people. But seriously I will sugar over anything. I love cookies, cake, ice cream, candy...I love them all. I eat so much sugar that I will more than likely end up with some form of diabetes. I hope not, but I would not be surprised.

I am way too afraid of dumb shit. OK, I think it's perfectly acceptable to be afraid of bees so I'm not going to get into that one. But I am also afraid that the front wall of the house is going to fall off, I'm afraid that light bulbs will catch the ceiling on fire, I'm afraid of thunderstorms even though I pretend not to be anymore, I'm afraid that we will leave something out that one of the cats will choke on and die...and that's just the stuff off the top of my head. I basically spend my entire day trying not to lose my shit. 

I hate to clean. I used to have such a clean apartment. People who have spent time in any of my apartments in MA would be horrified to see how much I don't care about cleaning. Cleaning was easy when all i had was one cat. Now I have a husband, 5 cats and the dustiest bird in the world. I gave up very early. I haven't died from it so I don't care if the house is dirty. In fact, I'd like to think it keep people away, which leads me to...

I'm actually an ambivert (50% introvert and 50% extrovert). When I am out in the general population, I can interact and have fun. But the introvert goes home and hides in the nook of her husband. Home where there are no people, no surprise visits. I love them both equally. I used to think I was a fake fun person with this dark secret that I hated people, but that's not true (although some days I do hate people). I need a n equal balance in order to feel whole. 

So, there are 5 of my truths. While they may not have been the most earth shattering concepts, I was able to work through my writer's block, which makes me happy. What are some of your truths? Maybe you can use this technique the next time you need to get through a block.

Dana C.