Live Music is Good for the Soul

My parents and I have a Thursday night tradition. At our favorite Mexican food place, they have live music every Thursday from 6:30-10:30pm. The guys that play (always the same 2 guys) are the most awesome performers. They are a (mostly) cover band with a few originals thrown in. I really think my parents take me just to see me laugh and smile again. Hell, even dad slips them extra tips to play the songs I like. During breaks they visit the tables and always hug me and mom, and shake dad's hand.

Steve and Earl never fail to bring a smile to my face, even when I'm in the crappiest of moods. It's all classic country, with some modern thrown in and Steve's originals. One of the originals spoke to me tonight. It was called "Looking Up." You always get further by looking up. Think about that one for a bit...

My give a damn's busted

One of the crappy things I experience occasionally are those days when you just don't give a damn. Mine are more often than not as of late. Today is a don't give a damn day. How can you tell if you are having a don't give a damn day? Here are some signs:

Overwhelming desire to crawl under the nearest large object and sleep.

Refusal to wear appropriate clothing for the day. (I don't care if I'm working... Jeans are FINE! Just be happy I'm not in effin fuzzy slippers!)

Your hair... Dear lord your hair.

Your alarm goes off and you refuse to move until the urge to pee nearly consumes you.

You seriously consider pulling up Netflix and scrapping any lessons that we're left for you.

Does anyone else have any signs that your give a damn might be dysfunctional? Share them in the comments!

I'm terrible...

I'm the world's worst when it comes to remembering things. I'm always getting distracted by something, someone, or a random thought that pops into my head.

This habit is absolutely unfortunate when it comes to taking medication. I'll be going to take my Prozac and get distracted by the dog laying on my bed or u mess in my floor. Then I'll wake up in the morning and realize I forgot. Crap.

I also am the girl that walks into a room and forgets why I'm there. All. The. Time. If I don't write things down or put them on a calendar,I'll forget i.e birthdays, appointments, paydays, etc...

Now that I think of it, I was supposed to work on that singing telegram order form for HOSA... Crap. Off I go!

Ouch...

Something happened at work today that piqued my interest... Apparently a bunch from the high school that I normally sub at took window paint to a rival high school's vehicles. Stupid high school assery..

I heard about what happened, so I went on twitter to check it out. Pretty reliable source, considering the kids actually fessed up to being there. So, I was searching on twitter and I came across some tweets making fun of me...

Apparently I was talking to myself in 2nd period today and the kids saw me. This is normal for me... I tend to talk to myself when I'm thinking or writing (I did both today). I wasn't prepared, however, for being made fun of... Strike one for my fragile ego :-(

I suppose this is something I should expect. I'm an adult, they're kids. They are supposed to think I'm a little BSC. I just wasn't prepared. Lesson learned blog-o-sphere... Don't search for high school news on twitter and expect to come out with your pride intact.

Depression

Something that makes me a bit sad is the stigma attached to mental illness. There are perfectly normal people functioning in society today that suffer from mental illness. You typically can't tell it from looking at them, or even talking to them, but it's there. God forbid, however, that anyone find out that you do have a mental illness. The jokes about "loony bins" and "happy pills" or just the people that look at you different when the truth comes to light.

Here's the truth my dear blog-o-sphere... I have depression... I have probably had the disease since I was young, as I look back on my behavior patterns. Can't sleep (or sleeping all the time), complete lack of interest in anything, exhaustion, head aches. Sounds like me, doesn't it? That's just what people can see. What they can't see is my thoughts... No one wants to see my thoughts. Sometimes they are even too morbid for me to comprehend.

I also have a family history of depression. Apparenlty there is a lot of mental illness on my sperm donor's side of the family. From what it sounds like, I'm lucky to come off with a small case of depression and nothing else.

Since losing my job, my parents and grandparents have noticed my behavior. My mom brought up the fact that I might want to go back on an anti-depressant. I was on one a couple years ago for (what I thought) was situational depression. I made an appointment to see my doctor and got back on Prozac (there's the makings of a joke there).I've been on since Tuesday. I'm hoping I start feeling something again. The numbness is not a fun thing.

Body Acceptance vs Am I really healthy?

The title of the post really says it all... One thing I've been hit with lately is the fat acceptance or body acceptance movement. It's all about honoring what you've been given and aceepting who you are/not wanting to change it. I'm completely caught in the middle.

I would love to be able to accept what I've been given, but on the other hand.. I'm at a huge risk for diabetes, hypertension, and my joints suck. I wish I lived in a different area, so I could find a gym buddy.. And not one that will hit on me at every turn.

I'm also hesitant to join a gym, knowing that it's not likely that I would get to go often. My work schedule is funky enough to make it nearly impossible to go regularly. I'll figure something out I hope...