A Thank You Note

Posted on November 15, 2012 | 8 Comments

I actually had another post ready to go, but you’ll have to wait a couple days to be mildly amused or disappointed. Why, you ask?

Because I realized it’s been almost one year since I released my humble little book, and decided to ramble reflect on the past year instead.

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First of all, I want to thank each and every person who ever bought it, tweeted about it, sent me a note/picture about it or even used it as a coaster for beer. You have no idea how humbling it was when you did this, and I’m still amazed that anyone cares what I say.

But for those who don’t know the story, I didn’t self-publish this book to try and make money, as that is a laughable notion.

No, I wanted a collection of my words I could hold in my hand and give to my mom for a Christmas present. She’s my biggest fan, and I wanted to make sure that I didn’t accidentally delete my blog in a fit of frustrated rage and lose a compelling account of my Tooth Fairy campaign.

I also published it so I could share my crazy view on things and maybe make you laugh, smile or feel a bit more normal. I decided that if you invested a little bit of time and money into reading it, I would give a little bit of time and money back by donating all the profits to the local Humane Society.

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You can read about all that over here, so I won’t rehash the whole thing.

All I can say is that a year later, I’m still proud I took the chance when I did. It was a lot of work, but seeing the look on my mom’s face when I gave it to her and when we got to deliver the goods to the Humane Society was priceless, as are the comments I still get today.

With that said, I can’t help but wonder what’s next.

The last year of blogging has taught me so much—about myself, about others, about writing, about life—but there are many times when I feel like maybe I’ve said everything I want to say. More often than not I’ll think, “I should blog about that!” only to realize I wrote up that post just last year.

After three years it gets hard to keep churning things out, but the reason I put pressure on myself is simply because I need something — something that makes me feel creative, makes me feel wanted, that connects me to people who feel the same way.

True, some days I want to delete the damn thing, and maybe some day that will happen. But for now, I still kind of like it and am sticking around for a bit.

And to answer the question I get once in awhile, yes, I’ve thought about doing another book. I think I’ve defined my voice and perhaps even stepped up my game since the last book came out. But I also feel like maybe that (sales) ship has sailed and I really hate self-promotion, which is kind of important with things.

Plus, I’ve already used the one picture I have for the cover on the first one, so there’s that.

Anyway, this whole long ramble is to sincerely thank you for your support this past year—not just with the book, but with the blog and with me as a person. I know readers and blogs come and go, and I am truly thankful for those who are with me today.

That’s as mushy as I get. Now it’s your turn.

Who do you think needs a thank you? I don’t care if it’s the inventor of the OveGlove (genius!) or the nice person who told you there was a fabric softener sheet sticking out of the ass of your pants. Let’s give thanks.

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Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged blogging, book, Humane Society, i hate self promotion, reflection, thankful, writing

Get In Line

Posted on November 13, 2012 | 43 Comments

The other day I had the (dubious) honor of (inexplicably) injuring myself in a way that once again lacked an exciting story about badger wresting or wrangling up rogue grocery carts.

I have no idea how I did it, but coming down the stairs I heard a crack in my foot and was reduced to crawling/hobbling around for two days.

Again, the cat was not helpful in this situation a la Lassie in fetching me ice, but instead alternated exasperated glances between the catnip bag on the fridge and my skinny ass crawling around on the floor.

Noted, my furry feline friend, noted.

But that’s neither here nor there.

I had X-rays, it’s strained/overused and I’m moving on with my life, but working from home that first day reminded me of something: I don’t understand people.

Going through emails that morning—ice on the foot and tea in my cup—I turned on the Today show for what is apparently now six hours of viewing. Aside from drunk Hoda and corny Roker, they showed thousands of people camped out and waiting for the One Direction concert on the plaza—the next morning.

Some of these people had been camped out for four days.

FOUR DAYS!

These people—mostly young women—had been eating, sleeping and standing in line outside in the cold to hear a boy band from a view of the stage comparable to the view of Mars from my lawn.

A mom said she took her kids out of school for two days and held their place in line overnight while the kids went home to take a test. One girl from Pennsylvania said she got fired for missing work for two days.

To stand in the cold. In the street. To hear three songs from a band.

And then there are the “Twi-hards” who were reportedly camping out in L.A. for up to a week before the release of the final movie in the Twilight Saga series. I repeat, they were camping outside for a week to get tickets to a movie that’s done in two hours.

Do these people not know that the movie will be in theaters for months?

I’ll assume these are the same people that will camp outside Best Buy for two days and trample old women and children to buy a TV for $100 on Black Friday. Given the fact that I have an extreme aversion to the consumerism aspect to the holidays, these people—many of who spend the actual day of Thanksgiving camped out in a lot and not with drunk nuns—remain a mystery to me.

Perhaps it’s simply my lack of attachment to material things or my preference for indoor plumbing, warmth and sanity, but unless it was a vital organ primped and primed for transplant—or a new foot, as of late— I can’t think of anything I would camp out for days in anticipation of purchasing.

I suppose more power to them.

But you won’t catch me camped out for a concert or a discounted microwave any time soon. Call me a weirdo, call me cheap, call me boring—you wouldn’t be the first person to do so.

In fact, take a number. Get in line.

Like the blog? Buy the book. Save a kitten.

So spill it. What have you waited a ridiculously long amount of time in line for? A concert? A meal? A pre-holiday sale?

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Tagged rant, shopping, thanksgiving, Today Show, Twilight, waiting

Hot and Cold

Posted on November 11, 2012 | 25 Comments

“There’s no cure for hot and cold.” -Trungpa Rinpoche

I’m someone who gets seriously twitchy when I hear people talk about how they have 564 unread emails in their inbox or a sink full of three-day old dishes. I feel the need to take care of these trivial things the second that they come up, and having them waiting in the wings—unattended—leaves me entirely too anxious.

Although this OCD urge can be annoying, it makes me feel better knowing it’s taken care of “just in case” something else should come up. I feel it’s one way I can (kind of ) control the unpredictable nature of things.

For the most part, these behaviors are harmless. But what about the things that I—or you—do that sometimes create the uncomfortable things that we try to escape?

Anything done to excess becomes a way to numb out discomfort. While for some it might be drinking, shopping, etc., it’s no secret that for me those behaviors are exercise, routine and isolation.

When I get uncomfortable with something, my instinct isn’t to sit back and evaluate why I want to escape, but rather to simply escape. Quickly. I associate these routines with relief, but the problem is it’s never enough. Once that high is gone, I’m dissatisfied again and it becomes harder to sit with the most fleeting feelings of discomfort.

In other words, it’s a temporary fix for a permanent predicament—that everything’s always in flux.

And although we all come from different situations with varying levels of stress and responsibility, what we struggle against in our lives can be acknowledged as ordinary experience. People and situations are unpredictable and so is everything else.

Everybody feels the pain of not getting what they want or getting what they don’t want, and most of the time it’s not because we suck and just can’t get things right. It’s life, and we’re not the only ones who can’t keep it all together. It’s just that certain people have adopted flexibility instead of frustration.

It might not seem like it through some of my rants, but I’m getting better at this.

While I walk a very fine line between letting go of attachment and complete depressive disinterest, I’ve found that releasing myself from attachment to certain things has actually been freeing.

I don’t need much to be content, and when I take myself or others too seriously—and justify being annoyed with everything to the point that it makes me unhappy—it limits me to a narrow world of likes and dislikes and boredom. And trust me, I’ve lived there too long.

But I still have a long way to go.

Changing behaviors that have become instinctual and comfortable — even addictive — feels completely counterintuitive to contentment. I still have those things that I do to stay “safe” and escape and I still lose my shit when my routine gets thrown out of whack.

But another version of reality will always come up and when my ideas about who I am and who others are is fixed and cemented, it keeps me from accepting this change. It creates the frustration I try to escape and the cycle of self-abuse continues.

So no, and there’s no cure for hot and cold.

But we can sit with things a bit instead of rushing to change them. We can accept flexibility instead of frustration. We can be open to what each day bring—unless that day brings a sink full of three-day old dishes.

You can bet that those suckers are clean.

Like the blog? Buy the book.

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Tagged addiction, depression, escape from reality, exercise, I think too much, mindfulness, OCD

Dear Abby

Posted on November 7, 2012 | 30 Comments

Hello faithful readers!

In case you haven’t picked up on it yet, my name is Abby. This lends itself to people pointing out that writing “Dear Abby” reminds them of the once-popular advice column founded in the 1950s by Abigail Van Buren.

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This picture doesn’t relate to this post, but it says “Abby” on my sweater.

I am not Abigail Van Buren—or an Abigail, for that matter—but I do like to dispense helpful advice to anyone who is brave enough to ask. However, in a shocking turn of events, a) no one has offered me my own syndicated column and b) no one has really come out and asked me for advice.

Perhaps I’m an intimidating figure, what with the tens of fans that I have, so I’m just going to go ahead and assume that the search terms that lead to my blog are actually anonymous questions from troubled souls looking for guidance from me.

Once I added a question mark to the end of these terms, it became clear that there are quite a few pressing matters to attend to! However, we’ll start with this one, as it appears it could be time-sensitive. 

Dear Abby

Q: Need to bury pet rabbit. How long does rigor mortis last?

A: I believe you’re actually wondering how long it takes to set in, as although I’m no doctor, I think it lasts forever. Either way, you stumbled upon my blog through that search for good reason. I can speak to this particular situation with personal experience (about the rabbit and not rigor mortis of my own, although as I get older I feel like I’m dead.)

When I was but a wee little Abby with issues, I had a pet bunny named Mitten, cleverly named for the white mitten on his black foot. One day I was at a friend’s house and distinctly remember that we made mini personaliz