squishisms.com

W is for Wicked.

On our Wedding Website I said:

Courtni is Amanda’s Soul Sister.  Her words, her inspiration, her attitude and her unconditional love and support were crucial to Amanda becoming the woman that Robbie fell in love with.  The wedding would not be complete without her.

That is not an exaggeration.  When I first ‘met’ WickedGame – I was intimidated beyond belief.  I had never cared for or about blog-ratings or the myspace ‘elite’ as I thought of them – and she, at least in my eyes, was one of the Elite…but I desperately wanted to know this Woman Whose Words echoed my soul.  More than just Wanting to know her, I Wanted…Needed…her to know ME.  I stalked her blog for months before leaving my first comment.  I almost cried the first time she commented on mine – I felt like I’d won an award.

Wicked is a Writer.  The undiscovered/unacknowledged 10^th World Wonder.  Untempered honesty Winds its Way through every Word she speaks, pens, or types.  More than anyone else I know – Courtni owns Who and What she is.  Completely and Without an ounce of shame.  I have never seen her pull a punch.  And so, when she accepted me – I knew it was real.  When she complimented my Writing – I knew it was real.  She played a big part in my acceptance of my Self.  She exudes strength and Wisdom, and I soaked it up.

And, for the first time in my life, I found myself truly interested in watching a pregnancy progress.  Even being squicked out if I thought about it in terms of ME or MY LIFE… I found myself fascinated by her letters to her unborn daughter.  Teary eyed and full of Warm fuzzies.  It was the first glimpse I had into the soft, gooey WickedHeart beating beneath the hard {candy} shell she portrayed.  And yet, it was no less strong than that exterior.

I almost pee’d my pants when I learned she was going to be in Tennessee for Gigifest.  I was SOOO excited to be able to meet this amazing Woman…and then got tongue-tied when I finally did…and right about the time I started to realize she was human, and neither deserved, nor wanted the pedestal I’d placed her on – and relax – I got the flu.

In the months following got to know Courtni all over again.  Without the idolization, as an equal – a sister.  I stopped feeling like the lost little loser tagging along with the cool kids and realized the cool kids thought I was cool.  I stopped trying and started BEING.  It was a flipped switch, not a process.  An epiphany fueled by the knowledge that Women such as Courtni liked me. Me.  Singing badly at the top of my lungs at two in the morning in the kitchen, wearing pajama pants and a lime green bra that had seen better days – they liked me. Stressed up by superstition and in desperate need of a sports bar – they liked me. Sick as all hell, whiney, mopey and bitter at missing out on the festivities – they liked me.

And when the Frog turned out to be just a Frog, and not a Prince – they were there.  And as I came into my own, there were Wicked little text messages spurring me on.  Forcing me to think a little harder, dig a little deeper into the void known as my Self and KNOW.  And when I needed a new outlet, she got me a visa to thepqnation.

And when I met a man really Worth my time and effort…and when I fell in love with him…and when I got engaged to him– no one was happier for me than Courtni.  LittleMissWicked was happier to hear I found a love like this than I think my own mother was.  It made total sense to me to ask her to stand with me.  And the perfect way to express what (at the time) I had no Words for:  How much she meant to me.

(*ahem*  notgonnacrynotgonnacrynotgonnacrynotgonnacry *ahem*)

So yes.  W is for Wicked.

Carry on.

A few days back, when this whole thing started – Robbie Randomly mentioned my blog.  The theme, the challenge, I had given myself.  Before I knew it he was listing off topics for the various letters.   R, obviously, was to be for Robbie.

And because it’s obvious, there is a part of me that wants to Rebel.  It’s too easy.  Expected.  Like those quizzes we make up to find out “how well” our friends know us, and then make the questions as obtuse and misleading as possible so that they “have to really, REALLY know {us}” to get them Right.

Oh shuddup.  I know I’m not the only one who does it.

And there are so many things that start with R that I am grateful for.

Raggedy Anne’s.  Rock and Roll music.  Reggae.  Rockabilly.  R&B.  Rap.  Running water.  Rainy Nights.  Rapture.  Red Bull.  Rocks.  Rings.  Romance…  Red Wine…

Remembering spending all night decorating the Cal Farley’s Boys Ranch Dining Hall for Christmas…

All those things, and more…

But, if we are honest… If I am honest – and if I can’t be honest here gods help us all – Robbie is more.  (Sorry, Courtni.  I tried really hard to stay un-mushy… but that’s where this is heading now.)

On June 29, 2008 I wrote the following:

…I accepted a long time ago that I either do or do not like people.  That it’s decided quickly.  That I get attached quickly because I don’t waste time on trying to make myself like people I don’t.  It’s not a judgement, just a difference of opinion – and I accept it.

But I’m trying to slow that down where the men are concerned.  Trying to stick to the 500 questions or six weeks rule.  But I know I *could* love him.  And really have known since the first night.  I also know it’s only been two weeks since I met him.  Four days of which I had no phone and didn’t talk to him at all… so ten days.  During which we have slept in the same bed four times.  *Slept* being the key word.  Bizzare to me.  Foreign.  Did I mention HE wants to take it slow?  Yeah.  Apparently he has a six weeks rule or something similar too.  I’m aiming for a compromise…

I’d already let him sleep on my bed.  (ON, not IN, as I very clearly specified in that blog lol.)  I knew.  He knew.  We would both argue that we knew the moment we met – regardless of anything you might have to say regarding love at first sight.

Robbie is my Refuge.  My Right when everything else is ohsoverywrong and crumbling around me.  My Remedy.  Every bad day, every cramp, twinge, headache and snotty nose is made better with just his presence.  Knowing he is near makes me feel better.   I can’t even stay mad at the jerkface for more than twenty minutes before I start crying because we can’t be mad at each other and stay in the same room.  Yeah, it’s really that pathetic lol.   He is the Rock I tell my secrets to.  And he lets people know when they’ve hurt my feelings – because I am too proud to do it myself.

More than anything else all year, more than anything else EVER: I am grateful for Robbie.  Not just that he is in my life, not just that he chose me – but that, somehow, *I* am what makes him happiest.

I was supposed to write this yesterday. The obvious choice, however; leaves a bad taste in my mouth….and that’s sad. And it makes me sad. Which is counterproductive to inducing feelings of gratefulness.

I understand that they don’t own Joy. I understand, on a certain level, that it is not something any one person, being, or entity can claim. But, the connotation for the word Joy, for me, now is something ugly and spiteful. And while, in some ways, I am grateful that the events of June and July strengthened some bonds – I mourn the loss of those that didn’t survive the explosion.

They taught me that there is no Joy without honesty. Without accountability or an open mind. And in the last twenty four hours, sitting on this blog, this letter… knowing I couldn’t be True to Me and ignore the letter J and it’s obvious choice of word… I remembered that Joy is a Journey.

And every Journey has a beginning. My beginning was Seeking Sunshine. My Joy, my Journey, started, and will end, with Sunshine. Period. That’s a whole other blog though…for a later date.

And I am grateful for the Journey. And Journey too, but that’s beside the point.

The other obvious choice… is my past. Jordan. I’ve thought a lot about this name lately. Part of the planning a wedding thing, I suppose. I will be taking Robbie’s name – once he gets it changed. It is important to him to have his Grandfather’s name, and it is important to me to have Robbie’s last name. Family is more than a name, but I want that tie between us – for many reasons. This, by necessity, equates to losing my maiden name. My Dad’s name. My family’s name. My name.

I’m not big into the whole “family” thing. I don’t know if it’s from growing up apart from them, or just a random quirk…but I’ve never really got it. My Dad’s side of the family, especially, has not been a big part of my life. I probably wouldn’t know one of those relatives if you stood him/her in front of me, and they wouldn’t know me.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t love my family. My parents and sisters. I do. Very much. Despite their quirks and follies and because they put up with mine, and have for nearly thirty years now. Their choices and decisions have impacted who I am every bit as much as my own. They helped make me, helped prepare me for this Journey. They are part of me. I am a Jordan. And I am grateful that I am a Jordan. And when I change my name, I’ll be keeping that part of me, as my middle name.

I am also grateful for jalapenos, Jack Daniel’s, Jewelry, and my Job.

I got stuck on the H’s.  To be blunt, someone at work is harassing me with toy spiders and I touched one this morning before I realized it was there and it completely threw my groove off the rest of the day.  It was almost impossible to think past the spiders.  I was able to blank my  mind by playing WoW when I got home, but any time I tried to focus to write this blog… my brain would immediately turn to the fact that I touched a spider – toy or not – and the tears would well up and the nearly uncontrollable urge to strip and search myself for creepy-crawlies would start.

And then there were my friends.  Whom I did a complete disservice to by not mentioning on day 6.  On facebook, which was also forgotten.  Offering comfort, beat downs, and ideas.

Offering Help.

So this one’s for my Homies – who have made more of a difference in my life than they could ever know.

Happiness:  I have known more happiness in the last year than I ever would have imagined possible.  I have a Family.  Someones who loves me waiting to see me at the end of the day.  Who will hold me when I cry for no reason.  Who will protect me as soon as he figures out how to be brave.  Who will lick me – because she’s just so damn happy I’m home.  That kind of happiness seeps into the rest of your life, whether you want it to or not.  I find myself smiling at work for no reason at all.  They don’t matter anymore.  Even today, with spider-shenanigans going on… I knew that once I got home it would all be better.    That is what allowed me to quit smoking.  To sever unhealthy ties.  I am, for the most part, GROSSLY happy.

Health:  I can run two miles and keep my heart rate under 160.  A year ago, by the time I hit a half mile my heart rate was in the high 170s and I’d have to slow down.  I can take the stairs without panting like a dog in heat.  I can play tug with my 50 pound puppy and pick him up off the floor by a T-shirt tied in a knot.  I definitely gained weight…but I am still healthier now than I was a year ago.

Home…  I have a blog somewhere… on one of the other sites… that covers my feelings on my Home now infinitely more adequately than I could possibly do today…  but I can’t find it.  /shrug.  I never thought I’d have a Home.  With a family and stuff.  Not in one place.  I never thought I’d think about Home Ownership at some point.  with things like a lawn and pipes that need plumbing and shite.  And yet…here I am.  Calling this tiny ass apartment that is entirely too small for the three people and two dogs it houses my Home.  Admitting that it Houses everything that matters most  in the world to me.  I’m one of the lucky ones.  Whodathunk?

Hope.  I has it.  Even when I’m so irritated I could scream, I feel safe enough to hope tomorrow will be better, and go paint my toes instead of screaming, plotting or planning.  I’ve relaxed.  I trust in tomorrow because I am okay with today, even on the worst days.   Any my Hope for the future is shiny and filled with dinosaurs, bubbles, fake mustaches, ridiculous Hats, and Hoodies.  (Man, I love Hoodies.)

HUMMUS.  Hummus is protein!  Hummus gives me something Healthy to eat in lieu of dip made with cream cheese.  Add in some roasted red pepper and I am a very happy Squish.  NOM NOM NOM.

(less) Hangovers!  Indeed.  I think that says it all, really.

Hornitos I have never had, and Hamburgers only exist in their Cheesydeliciousburger form in Squishtopia… So i had to pass on those lol.  But HEAT.   O Lawd, the HEAT.  Let me tell you something:

We are all aware of the FattyFatFatNeedsToFitHerFatAssIntoABikini plan.  (Also known as: Tetris for the Tummy.)  Unfortunately, I quit smoking, which is rather counter-productive on many levels to this plan.  In addition to snacking more for the first six months as a nonsmoker, my metabolism also took a nosedive.  So, we thought it would be good to jumpstart it back up.  And we found pills that would do so, and curb my newfound all-the-time-appetite as well.  The fun side effect?  HEAT.  Oh. My. GAWD.  The Heat.  I could warm a village with the Heat I now radiate.  I am COMFORTABLE in 45/50 degree weather.  This is not usual.  Typically I start freezing solid if the temperature dips below 71.  It is December (albeit in Texas, I know) and I am |thisclose| to sleeping with my windows open…  But I’ve lost two inches around my middle and a half inch off each calf since starting the pills.  No shit.

I’ll take it.

Hodum.  Of the Genus De Anne.  of De Anne of the Hodum Genus?  either way – the Hodum is my officiant for the wedding.  Again, I think that says it all.

Humility…   This latest blogging endeavor… this Days of Gratefulness, blog-a-day for 26 days thing I thought would be a great idea has taught me a thing or two about Humility… and we are only on Day 8 folks.  Waking up yesterday and remembering that all I had to say on Wednesday was “fuck you” was not exactly my proudest moment.  However… I find a sort of beauty in those dark, raw, embarrassing moments.  It’s unfinished honesty.  SeaGlass that isn’t quite done yet.  Cookies taken out a few minutes early so the center is still gooey and soft…  I wrote a blog once about being an Oreo – and letting life dunk you in over your head in milk to soften you up;  keep you from being too hard…  And I am reminded of that every time I fuck up in a big, dramatic, PUBLIC way.  And then I wonder if Gandhi was ever embarrassed….

Humanity….  I’m going to be a nerd for a whole second here and mention that in last night’s episode of Bones – they mentioned that sometimes they forget that the bones they work with are/were People.  I have that same problem, and I work with them before they are just bones.  I forget that the person I question is able to put on pants alone – is someone’s mom…brother…lover…friend…  They may save kittens at the split of I-35 at night three times a week, or go have lunch at the nursing home on Sunday, even though they don’t have family there.  The assmonkey putting spiders on my desk?  *I* caused that.  Doesn’t change the fact that they are putting spiders on my desk rather than talking to me like an adult… but I am most bothered by the fact that someone has that amount of HATRED for me.  To know of my phobia, and use it against me malevolently…  Maliciously…  Because *I* am doing something wrong, forgetting someone’s humanity…  It’s a hard lesson to learn.

Humor…  Robbie thinks I am funny.  He laughs at my jokes.  I never considered myself a funny person before…but I amuse Robbie.  And truth be told… he amuses me too.  And he’s not funny either…but I laugh anyway.  Genuinely.  Maybe it’s that I’ve learned to appreciate bad jokes on a different level…in a different way…  /shrug.  The dogs amuse me endlessly.  But that’s not really humor…. or is it?  Is humor what you make it?  Where you find it?  Bad dancing to horrible 80s music in the kitchen on a Sunday morning…  the puppy missing the couch entirely when he jumps sometimes…  Maybe I find more Humor in life because I am Happy…

and i have to stop there.  My brain is tired now lol.    I still had Hats, Headbanging, HouseMusic, Hot Pockets, Howl(ing), and HipHop to go…

But I am Hungry.