random x 400

400 posts. I can hardly believe it. When I started this blog back in January 2012 I had no idea I would last this long. Looking back I cannot believe that I have randomly blabbed on about 400 different topics. Okay so maybe some of them are similar. My family, childhood, money, my favorite husband, funny videos, women’s issues, the occasional political post. That is why I still love the name of this blog. My posts are random. I write about whatever inspires, infuriates, makes me laugh. The randomest of things come out of my finger tips.

I often only have a glimmer of an idea when I sit down with my laptop and let my thoughts flow. There are times when a blog idea formulates in my thought and I sit down and start typing, never knowing how it will finish, or how long it will take. Sometimes it all comes out fast and furious in a matter of minutes and other blogs never feel exactly right. Sometimes I will write a post and it remains in draft form for weeks or months and some I eventually delete because they never feel right or salvageable.

I hope that in the process of my diatribes and babbles I have inspired, made you think, and made you laugh. There are days when I wonder why I still blog, when I wonder if it matters that I write any more. It is usually on those days when I doubt myself, my writing, and my random topics that I get an email or a comment from someone who says my blog that very day touched their heart, or was just the idea they needed that day. So you, my friends, are the reason I continue to blog. I do not write for anyone specific. I write because it comes out of me so passionately. I write because I do not know how I could keep it all in. This blog is therapy for me. It is a connection to so many individuals I have corresponded with and inspiration for what other ideas will continue to pour out of my fingertips and onto this MacBook Air.

Thank you to everyone who has read and continues to read this blog. You are appreciated and are an inspiration to me. I only hope I continue to inspire through random olio.

Keeping things inside

I was talking with a few individuals over the weekend, and the topic of keeping things inside came up. It made me think about growing up and how we are taught to communicate. Growing up my dad always said that children were to be seen and not heard. We were not given a forum or safe place to speak up and say what we felt. Often I knew that I disagreed with my dad, but if I spoke up and said what I really felt, I would hear the wrath of my father. He always felt it was disrespectful to go against his viewpoint.

Ah, the anguish I felt to have to keep my thoughts and feelings inside. My home growing up either had thoughts and feelings put under carpets, stored in the attic, or they came out with rage and anger. I never saw the balance of real communication. However, somehow I was always fascinated with how others communicated. When I saw a man gently interact with a woman, I was fixated. When I saw a couple communicate amicably even while in a heated discussion, I was intrigued.

It was not until I was in college in my early twenties that I found my voice. I can almost remember what it felt like. I was writing a paper for a Sociology class, and in the process of writing that paper, something shifted and I knew that it was a pivotal moment in my life. I had found my voice. Ironically, the paper I was writing was on the topic of “voice” and in writing that paper, my voice had surfaced.

I no longer keep my thoughts and feelings inside. My dilemma now is to continue to work through the balance between speaking up and saying what I think needs to be said, and how that voice comes out. There is a graceful way to be bold and direct, but also to do it in a way that the other person can hear what you have to say. If you are angry while being direct, you can piss someone off, offend, and turn them away. Speaking gracefully for me is a work in progress. I do not always do it right, but I am learning along the way. The important part is that I speak, use my voice, and have it out in the open.

Do you keep things inside, or is it easy breezy for you to say what you think?

“Dear Girls Above Me”

How many times in your life have you lived in an apartment and overheard the tenants lIving above, below, or next to you? My response? Too often. As frustrating as it can sometimes be, I probably have been the culprit of other tenants wanting to scream, “Shut up, you are too loud!” It is life in much of the rental world. And yet, Charlie McDowell wittingly shares the drama and laughs, of overhearing the dimwitted interactions of the two girls that live above him in “Dear Girls Above Me.”

His book intersperses his life, recent break-up, frustration, then intrigue with his upstairs neighbors, mixed with actual comments he hears from upstairs, rolled up with interactions with his roommate and landlord. I chuckled, rolled my eyes, and laughed some more. A clever book and definite must read. I included a few of my favorites here:

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘If that bitch talks shit about me one more time, I’m gonna wear a white dress to her wedding.’ Men use fists, women use fabric.” page 27

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘Did you hear that all these kids were rescued in Chile after being trapped in some mountain?’ Miners, not minors.” page 142

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘If a car is out of gas, can you fart into it to make it drive?’ Meet you in the parking lot in 10.” page 142

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘Eww Cathy. Was that a regular fart or did you just Queefer Sutherland?’ You have 24 hours to never say that again.” page 263

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘Well if you still have diarrhea tomorrow we need to get you some of that ex-lax stuff.’ Putting out the fire with gasoline, huh?” page 264

“Dear Girls Above Me, (regarding her loud fart) ‘Exactly why I’ll never move in with a guy. Who wants to give that up?’ I guess I’m the lucky one then.” page 264

“Dear Girls Above Me, ‘In getting colonics, we basically paid 75 dollars to take the biggest shits of our lives.’ Ha, mine was only 7.99 at Chili’s.” page 264

What are some of the things you have heard through the walls that were ironic or made you laugh?

An ad for having kids

Chris and I keep pondering kids and dogs, kids and dogs. Some days a dog wins and other days you find that an experience with a kid tips you over the edge towards wanting kids. Yes, we have been married 10 years, but that does not mean we do not hesitate to take that next step that we know will change everything.

So when I saw this great video by a father who took video from each day of his son’s first year of life, I was smitten. At first I thought, this video is 6 minutes there is no way I will watch it all, and then I did. Of course the music by Devochka helps the mood and thought process, because of course I imagined what it would be like if that little precious boy was mine. I love that this father interspersed all moments, the tears, screams, laughter, cuteness, crawling, and walking.

What a cool memory and reminder this little boy will have of his first year of life. He will get to look back and watch how he grew and changed. What if this father continues to video his son each day for his son’s entire childhood? His son might find it annoying, but it would definitely be cool to look back on.

Enjoy and Happy Friday!

Farting on an airplane?

Come on, you know that either you are a victim of the airplane fart, or you were the one that wounded everyone. I have had this article saved in a blog draft for months now, and I just found it. I think at the time that I found this article I thought why would anyone want to read about farting on an airplane? Recently I was on a flight with Chris and while waiting for other passengers to board the plane we smelled the most horrifying body odor. I wanted to gag, or maybe I started to gag. I looked over at Chris and he looked ill. Eventually the passenger continued to walk to the back of the plane and we were saved.

The ironic part about the body odor is that the man who came to sit in the seat next to me leans over and says, “I am so sorry about my body odor. I have been camping in Mexico and I have not showered in days.” The thing was, he did not smell that bad. I will tell you, I might have horrible hearing and eyesight, but the one thing God gave me that fully functions is my nose. My smeller is attuned and always on high alert. This guy did not smell that bad. I told him so. I thought to myself, what amazing self-awareness to alert me. I appreciated his bluntness and if he was going to be so blunt I thought, why not respond in kind? So I lean over to him and say: “You do not stink at all, you missed the guy that has the bad body odor.” He smiled and said, “Oh, good. I felt bad that I might.”

Which leads me to the actual topic of this blog: Flatulence on an airplane. You will want to read this article I just shared. For a little tidbit, it starts out with: “Flying increases flatulence.” How many times have you thought, seriously who did that? The smells and odors that willingly escape and waft through the heavy, hot, and stuffy air seem to linger, and slowly kill our nose hairs. And, yet, we probably have all had a bad day, a bad airport lunch, or got stuck with a crazy, uncomfortable stomach while turbulence has imprisoned us to our seats thanks to the fasten seatbelt sign.

I am not going to lie. Chris has berated me for such misdemeanors. What can I say? Sometimes you cannot help it. Yes, I would rather be the guilty one, then the recipient.