At what point is enough enough?

I hate when people post personal BS on Facebook dont' you? Well, guess what? I'm annoyed and ticked off so here we go........Sometimes I just have to laugh at some things. Tonight is one of them. I had a great time with friends and family until it came time to a) switch locations b) stop a friend from driving and c) attempting to understand how to be second fiddle in this funny game we call life.

For the most part I think most of you know me. I'm blunt, I can be an asshole, but I can also be thoughtful, kind, and considerate. I would imagine if you actually know me as a friend you would agree. I am single with no kids so my friendships and relationships outside of my family are extremely important to me. After today I just want to give a middle finger to everyone and just hole up in my little house and say "to hell with you all". But, I won't because it's my best friend's birthday tomorrow and we are going to have a great time. Here's the thing. I can be the bitchiest of bitches but if I consider you important in my life, then I guarantee you, you will always have someone in your corner. Will I have you in mine?

Here's what you'll get from me as a friend, etc.:

1. Honesty. It's the basis for any relationship.

2. You're back. Right Dave?

3. Your time. I will do what is important to you, in hopes that you will also do what is important to me. ... Unless it's climbing mountains. I don't do that anymore.

4. Learning from you. I can admit fault. Can you?

5. Supporting you. You want to be a marine biologist? Okay let's go diving in murky Campbell Lake.

6. Growth. I am constantly learning and growing from my friends.

7. I would say empathy but you know that isn't true. I am not empathetic.. I know this about myself. What I can give is my life experience (which hasn't been so peachy keen) and my resistance to trauma and how I deal with it. It very well may make you understand me more. If not, que sera sera.

8. Support. Whatever it is that is important to you and I can be a part of, I will. You want to save the seals? I promise to quit using plastic straws even though paper straws are disgusting.

Let me tell you what I expect from you in return.. it's simple really.. Kind of.

1. Laughter. If I can't laugh with you, then what's the point?

2. Your willingness to understand what is important to me and to listen when I speak of things that are important to me. Not to make you uncomfortable but to make me comfortable in our relationship. I will do the same.

3. A little give. You don't like karaoke and I do? Go with it. You don't like xyz bar and I do? Take one for the team. It isn't going to kill you.

4. Hearing me. I mean REALLY listening. Hearing the words that come out of my mouth and what I need from you and what I don't. eg: I don't need you to judge me for whatever...I need you to listen to me when I need more out of the relationship.

5. No judgement. Super easy you think, but it isn't. Everyone has a preconceived notion of what they expect. Guess what, I'm probably not it and I'm okay with it. I won't play the game long if your judgement is playing a role.

6. Honesty. Because I guarantee I will be honest with you.... and sometimes I have to tiptoe around what I really want to say, but it's for the best because I really don't think you can handle the truth, or, aren't willing to listen.

7. Listen. I don't ask for things I don't really need anything , but if I do, and I ask for them, that's different. If you can't give them to me, then maybe it's time to move on. Not all relationships are meant to last forever. I'm not talking about a Porsche. I'm talking about time, commitment, etc.

8. If you can't even bend, then there is no reason for us to be friends or whatnot. If it's all about you and what you want or need, it won't work. It isn't working. If you think putting a Band-Aid on an open wound will stop the blood flow, you're wrong; The hemorrhage will still occur.

9. The realization that maybe what you have to give is great, but your inability to compromise is what is going to be the end of it all.

With that said, 1000+ "friends" on the ol' Facebook none of this will shock you because you've known me for year. For those that it does, sorry. I'm just so tired of asking for and explaining what I need out of people in my life and it not being taken seriously. For those that take it seriously, cheers!! You know who you are.

For the rest of you--- Vaya con dios.. or whatever you believe in.

It Could Be Worse

 It’s Always Something

You know how you feel after getting off a 12-hour flight with three, two-hour layovers with some mechanical issues that make you sit on the runway for an hour with a giant man snoring next to you? You know, that feeling where you can’t take one more step or blink one more time without literally passing out. That’s how I’ve felt for months... literally months.

At first, I blamed the VID. I mean, I couldn’t taste or smell for 9 months so I wasn’t eating a balanced diet to help with metabolism or energy. Then, after about 8 months I realized I would hit a wall around 1pm or 2pm where I had to go lay down right away and then I’d nap for hours. Sometimes two, sometimes three, sometimes more. I’d feel good enough to get up and go on with my day and then I’d crash again at night.

Add in the sweats. Not like sweat pants, although I’ve been wearing a lot of those lately. I mean, shirt-soaking sweats. For those that don’t know about the surgery I had in 2005, I’m not supposed to sweat. Ha! Jokes on me, because lately I’ve been sweating like a ran a marathon backwards when really…  all it took was me getting up off the couch to start the onslaught of drips. Gross, I know.

So, I go to the doctor assuming 100% that I’m going through “the change” and actually praying that’s what it is. She says my lymph nodes and glands are swollen and blah blah blah, let’s do some blood tests. Get a call a few days later that there has been a diagnosis: Epstein-Barr Virus. Ok, what does that even mean? Well, apparently it’s a close sibling to the good ol’ kissing disease mononucleosis. Joy!! Doc tells me most people have had it since they were children but will never have symptoms. As a matter of fact, 90% of you have it. You’re welcome! Lucky for me, I have symptoms, albeit moderate symptoms compared to some who really suffer from it.

I just had a follow-up with doc and I told her, and a good friend of mine who also happens to be a doc, and who also had EBV earlier in her life, that I feel like a hypochondriac. I’m constantly complaining about the giant lymph nodes in regions that I didn’t even know had lymph nodes, wondering if the pressure behind my eye is an aneurism, or if my swollen glands are going to cut off my breathing at night and suffocate me. (this really almost happened) Alas, I am still alive and napping daily and bitching constantly about being hot, or tired, or … the list could go on. Luckily doc says all symptoms are normal and that I should definitely be “taking it easy” and sleeping when needed, but to also try to live my life. Uh, huh. I could barely stand at the sink long enough today to peel beets to can them later. Sad.

But wait! That’s not the best part. Just when you think you’re going to live a long and healthy life because you just have a silly little virus, you join the Epstein-Barr Virus Support Facebook Page. Sweet Jesus!! It’s almost as bad as putting your symptoms into WebMD only to learn you have dysentery, leprosy and polio with a touch of lymphoma and will most assuredly die from a blood clot that you won’t feel. Greeaatttt.

Here’s the thing.. some people who get sick or are diagnosed with a disease or disorder make it their identity and let that diagnosis take over. Fine, you be you. I’m going to take my doc’s advice and really try to live my life (with many naps) and still try to enjoy the things I used to enjoy. So, if I go on a hike with you, be prepared to Sherpa my ass up and down because I won’t be able to go far. 

AND, thank you to my friends and family who have been there to hear me complain, and to those who know that when you call and I don't answer, I'm probably napping. 

Kisses.

I fought the VID, but the VID won.

You know how sometimes you will suffer through a terrible ailment, such as a toothache, that ruins your life for a short time and then you don’t even realize when it’s gone? I’m hoping that is what will happen very soon to me.

In November I was diagnosed with COVID-19 after a short stint to the emergency room. Albeit, some may think I contracted it elsewhere but I’m sticking with my story. A few days after leaving the ER I awoke with a headache like none other that I had ever had.. and I’ve had some doozies. It was as if I slept wrong and every muscle and nerve in my upper torso was cutting off all blood supply to my head. My eye sockets hurt, my teeth hurt, my feelings hurt. I made a new best friend named Excedrin and he let me down. I even went to a little Thai lady who beat the living hell out of my already decrepit body. Nothing worked for days. As quickly as it came, it left and I was left with a sinus type illness that only lasted a few days. (enter thrilling-something bad is going to happen-music)…

I’m not a food craver very often but this one particular day I wanted homemade mac n’ cheese and bbq pulled pork. I NEEDED IT. So, out comes the Instant Pot and away I went on a journey to satisfy my chubby girl craving. Meat is cooked, bbq sauce is added, mac n’ cheese is plated up and it has no flavor. Literally, nothing. I thought maybe I didn’t add enough BBQ sauce, so more was added.. then more.. until it was more like shredded pork in a bbq pool. It was then I knew.. I had the Vid. Got tested and the rest is history… not. IT ISN’T OVER.

I am 5 months and 18 days into my COVID experience and I am still experiencing symptoms. I’ve read articles that say most “long haulers”, (that’s what I’m called), experience neurological issues, sleep issues, etc. etc. I don’t know if I can blame COVID for not being able to remember words or names, or being awake at 4am with crazy thoughts swirling around in my head. I don’t know if COVID is the reason I have to nap almost every single day for over an hour. It could be that I’m just lazy, but I’m going to blame  (shaking my fist)… COVID!! That isn’t the worst of it though. Not by far.

For close to 6 months, SIX MONTHS, I have had little to no taste or smell. Let that sink in for a moment. No taste. No smell.. Let’s talk smell for a moment; something I will never take for granted if I get it back. I’m constantly paranoid that my house stinks (or that I do?!). I’ve left the oven on and couldn’t smell the gas. I can’t smell my shampoo or my perfume or clean sheets. Is the milk bad? Well, it isn’t chunky so it must be okay. Is that chicken poop on my shirt or just mud? It isn’t as though my olfactory senses are completely gone because I smell something all the time. It’s like a musty smell. It’s as if I just opened a trunk filled with your great-great-grandma’s shoes that had been buried with her body for twenty years and then exhumed. If you can’t conjure up that smell, be glad, it isn’t a good one. So, to whomever said, “Stop and smell the roses.”, well, great… I can’t. So, thanks a lot. Great advice.

 As for the taste. While I love many things in life, food was at the tip top of that list. Screw Maslow and his “self actualization”.. I bet Maslow could taste his latkes with no problem. Cooking, which I once loved, is mundane and meaningless because the time spent is moot because I can’t enjoy the results. I’ve eaten rotten shrimp that made me sick because I couldn’t tell they were bad. I eat burnt toast because, well, I can’t taste it. I rarely eat meals anymore and just snack on things that are probably causing me high cholesterol and clotted arteries. I can differentiate between sweet and salty but that is about it. As I sit here with my cup of tea I reminisce about the time I used to be able to drink my beloved black coffee. Now, coffee leaves a bitter, undesirable taste in my mouth.. as does chocolate. So, let me answer the question I get asked most about losing my sense of taste: Have you lost weight? Well, for one, you obviously haven’t seen me lately. And two, no.

 The thing with our brains is that they are really smart, even with COVID brain fog. My little brain knows I prefer pasta to peas, cheese to carrots, and beer to, well, anything. You can’t turn off the fat-girl switch because you can’t taste. I still crave all the things I always did, and I eat all the things I always ate. The problem is, once you get them, they lose their luster quickly. The benefit of not being able to taste is I eat leftovers now. Pre-Vid, the thought of eating something more than once made me want to pull my fingernails out with pliers.. I hate leftovers. Now, I eat ‘em until they’re gone, so that’s good (unless they’ve gone BAD, like those damn shrimp). So, alas, no poundage loss here. At least COVID could have given me that. Bastard.

That’s my saga. I know it’s hard for some people to remember that I can’t smell or taste. I’m constantly getting asked to “try this” or “Do you want pepperoni or Canadian bacon on that pizza?”.. I don’t care. I can’t taste!!! Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you, I'm mad at bats.

I Am, What I Am.

My life has been a series of happenings, not unlike yours. So, what makes us different? What makes us unique?  We are born, we learn various skills that will help us through life, we grow up, determine who we are going to be, get a job, move, get married, or don’t, have kids, or don’t, and so on and so forth. So, what makes me, me, and you, you?

If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you will know that I experienced pretty tough instances of childhood trauma that lasted beyond my childhood. That makes me different from a portion of you out there. Does it define me? I don’t think so, but I definitely think it has influenced my life and the relationships I have in my life. I question if my predilection for surface level relationships stems from my youth. I ponder the theory that I hold people at arm’s length as to not get too close so that I won’t get hurt when I get let down, which historically, almost always happens. I pontificate on whether or not I make up my “I don’t need this in a relationship” list just to ensure nobody will ever come anywhere close to meeting the ridiculously high and outrageous expectations I’ve set for them prior to even meeting them. If you are one of very few people in my life that the list doesn’t pertain to, congrats, the bar is set even higher for you. You’re the ones that really matter. That doesn’t mean the people on the periphery of my life don’t matter, they do. But think about it, think about the people you surround yourself with and really think about how many of them you really couldn’t (or wouldn’t want to) live without. I very well may like you, enjoy spending time with you, but if you moved tomorrow I may never give you a moment’s thought unless you post on Facebook. I’m sure that sounds harsh to some of you, but in reality, and if you were honest with yourself, the same rings true for you.

I got to thinking about the people I have in my life and how my life is basically the way it is because of those people. I don't hike much anymore because I used to do that with my buddy Greg. I don't fish anymore because Matt moved away. I don't go ____ because you don't like it. etc. etc. Granted, I can make any changes I want to my life as a single, unattached woman, and I hate that I use excuses for not doing things, but I do take into consideration those closest to me and how any change in my life might affect theirs. So many people ask me why I don’t move out of Alaska (because I talk about it often). The reason is, the people I have here. Plain and simple. Yes, I think I hold an equal amount of space in their lives as they do in mine.. or at least I hope so! Anyway…

As easily as it is to blame others for the downfall of my relationships (friendships, romantic, work, etc.), I understand that I am no angel in disguise. I have faults (I know, I know... hard to comprehend, but I do). I do consider myself a good person to all the people in my life, and I would hope they’d say the same. I will have their backs no matter what. I will do what I can to help them in any way I can. I will give advice even if they NEVER take it. I will give you time/money/whatever, even if you never say thank you. I will go visit you and your 8 children for a vacation, and I will play countless games of Gin Rummy and Oh Hell, even though I want to be on a beach in Mexico (just kidding Margaret). I will make dinner for you just to be able to spend time with you, even if I’m tired and crabby and can’t taste any of it. I will continue to invite you to do things even though I know you will never do them. I will sacrifice things I want to do because you don't want to do them.

What’s my point? If you're still reading this, you're probably wondering where the heck I'm going with this... As am I. There’s always a point to these rambling cogitations of mine. I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to be a supportive sister, daughter, friend, colleague, significant other. It’s exhausting juggling schedules and feeling like some people are getting more attention than others. It’s tiring giving support to people who don’t take the initiative to change their own situations. It’s taxing taking the lead on things all the time because nobody else is willing to step up and do it. It’s frustrating getting chastised for not doing something for someone who previously did the exact same thing to me. It's hurtful when I spend hours upon hours on something that benefits someone else, and they don’t seem to even care or appreciate it. I know I’m not alone in feeling this way, but lately I feel like I’m being spread thin in my life.

So, sorry if I don’t give you my undivided attention, or return your call/text, or show up to your event, or don’t want you to come over. I am allowed to do what I want in my own life, when I want, with whomever I want. Not to say I won’t take people’s feelings into consideration, I will. But sometimes I need to do/or not do, something for me, not for you. I’m learning at 40 years old that I don’t need someone to make me happy, I just need to make myself happy. I can vacation alone. I can live alone. I can work alone. I can be happy alone. I don’t want to rely on others for my happiness and I don’t want others to rely on me for theirs. This is not to say I don’t need people in my life, because I do, and those people know who they are (I hope). I’m just saying that I’m going to primarily worry about me from now on and focus on making myself happy, and not everyone else. That is my non-New Year’s Resolution… mostly because my previous resolution was to be nicer to people and I broke that resolution on January 3^rd after a few beers. Cheers!

 

 

 

Oh, sobriety you silly cad you

My mind and liver are clear after 16 days of sobriety so I decided to take advantage of this time and entertain you with a blog post. Be warned, I talk about "hot topics" in my usual snarky, eye-rolling way. You can agree, disagree, get mad, get happy, or get drunk for me since I am not willing to lose $100 for a cold Coors Light.

2020. What to even say? 10 months down and 2 to go… Can’t imagine what the next two months could possibly bring. Maybe an abominable snowman attack? Maybe the movie 30 Days of Night will come true? Whatever it is, I imagine I will get as excited about it as I am with the COVID. Or the 2018 earthquake. Or the Election. Or our bum-deal Mayor (pun intended). You see, it’s not that I don’t care, because I do… to an extent. Let me explain, so unbunch your undies and simmer down for a second.

I will preface all of what’s to come with the fact that I understand my situation is different than others. I am single, I live alone, I have no kids, my parents live far away, I didn’t lose my job, and I have friends that think like me so I do still have a social network. With that said, I am so sick and tired of hearing about all this stuff (see list above). We are all entitled to our opinions and we all have the capability to listen, learn, fear, worry, etc. etc. What you do with those things is what matters. There is so much on the interwebs that you can’t possibly differentiate fact from fiction, truth from lies, or right from wrong. So what to do? I don’t really care. I don’t. You be you and believe your own truths. It’s not up to me to change your mind and quite frankly, I don’t have the desire to do so. It is not worth it to me or to anyone else to get worked up about all the inequalities and inequities surrounding all the major issues going on. Do you think making a Facebook rant or holding a sign, or rallying in any way is changing anyone’s mind? I mean, really, do you? Why does it seem that everyone’s voices have to be so LOUD all of a sudden? If being loud isn’t getting your cause heard, maybe you should try something else? Kill ‘em with kindness. You catch more bees with honey. Don’t worry, be happy. Make love, not war. You is smart, you is kind, you is important.  See? It’s that easy. I know coming from me it’s pretty rich, right? I know. But I’ve come a long way in being nice. Just be glad you never played soccer against me.

Have you defriended me on Facebook and deleted my name out of your phone yet? No, good.. I shall continue.

Do I want Covid? Nope. Do I want you or anyone else to get it? Nope. Does that stop me from living my life as I did before? Nope. I choose to go out and live my life. I take the precautions, wear my mask, lube up on sanitizer, wash my hands. If you are worried about catching it then my thought is you should probably just stay home or get one of those cool masks that circulate filtered air. Sorry, but not really. We all know we have the potential of getting it (regardless of said precautions), but we also know we could get shot, an STD, and lung cancer… but you don’t see people not going to Mt. View, or having unprotected sex, or quitting smoking. So, you do what you can do to not get it while not becoming a weirdo hermit by never leaving your house. Or become that weirdo hermit; you be you.

People in Anchorage are so apoplectic about the situation with the ol’ Mayor. Why? Because he "sext" someone and took a picture of his ass? Whoopdy doo. If you only knew what “important” people are really doing every day around this town. It’s a small town; we all have stories of indiscretions about the “Who’s Who” in Anchorage. So, what is it that is making people care so much about this? Is it affecting them personally? Is his resignation causing them more harm than when he was Mayor? I mean really, I am asking because I have NO CLUE why anyone would care so much. Also, it makes me do a little shoulder shrug and raise my eyebrow while ruminating about the people I know, who care so deeply for the state of affairs of our lil’ municipality, yet don’t do anything to help the situation. I mean sure, go hold a sign at the Park Strip. Post your opinion on every Facebook post or newspaper article. Better yet? Vote. Volunteer. Join a community council. Write your Legislators. Pick up trash. Donate to a good cause.

Let’s talk Presidential Election for a sec. It’s bad either way, we all know that. So how does berating someone over their decision to vote for an egomaniac or a handsy grandpa help? Yeah, chastising someone over their opinion in an open forum usually results in positive outcomes..👍  These people post about being accepting of all, loving thy neighbors, and all these frufru quasi-Christianesque do-gooder things and then one person mentions Trump and they go OFF THE RAILS, boil your rabbit, crazy. Whoa, whoa, New Age Mother Teresa, what happened to your peace-minded, piousness now? It’s cool, you can go back to your sanctimonious self on the social media now. See you in hell.

Stepping off my very tall, wobbly soapbox now. I’ll close with this:

If you know me, you know I can be the biggest a-hole there is, which is why you’re probably scoffing at this post. But from being that bull-in-the-China-shop, outspoken, direct woman, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s best to just shut the mouth.. usually real fast. Can you have an opinion? Of course. But if you do, and you can’t have a considerate, adult conversation about it, then just don’t bring it up. Let bygones be bygones. And for the love of all things holy, please don’t post about it on Facebook (insta-de-friend). I also do care about people and things. I don’t want anyone to get hurt (I’ve heard those riot signs can be a sliver danger), I don’t want anyone to get sick, and I don’t want anyone to care so much about any of these things I’ve written about that it affects our friendship. But if it does affect our friendship negatively, and of course that is your prerogative, I wish you well and I will relish in the .55¢ I will save not having to send you a Christmas card.

Any and all opinions in this blog post are solely those of the author. 

Any and all of your opinions about this post, unless positive and uplifting, 

can be kept inside that capacious head of yours until you can discuss it with someone who really cares.

Say It Like You Mean It

Dear Readers of my ongoing blog o’ nonsense,

 

I've been a wee bit annoyed lately. While I am really enjoying aspects of this little respite called quarantining, some are not as pleasant. Having to communicate through email, text, chat threads, and online has been...frustrating. Who knew that having that face to face interaction really makes that much of a difference? Or is that really the issue?

We learn to speak between one and two years old, yet some people never really learn how to communicate. Sure, a sentence can be made, and a question can be asked, but when it really counts why is it so difficult for some people to speak? I’m not talking about extrovert vs. introvert, or anything like that. I’m talking about being an adult and knowing and understanding the importance of effective communication. Do not think I’m not guilty of this, but for the most part I’d say I’ve come a long way in knowing when and how to say things and knowing it’s not what you say, but how you say it.. or so I’ve been told.

 

As adults, people come and go in our lives when jobs change, people move, or you learn that these people just don’t have the gall to say what it is they need to say time and time again. I am tired. I am tired of trying to play the "guess why I'm upset now" games. If I ask you a question or request information from you, I’m not doing it for shits and giggles. I’m asking because it affects my life in some way. What kind of person just ignores that? Say you’ve worked with/known them for a year, or five years, or a decade. Does it matter the length of time? Absolutely not. It is rude, inconsiderate, and absolutely appalling that someone who calls you a friend, colleague, partner, or “part of your family”, would not have the decency to simply… respond. What is that they say? 'Speech is silver; silence is golden'. Well, you can keep your gold. I have always liked silver better anyway.

 

 

I suppose that most of us don’t say anything when we should be saying something because of the potential repercussions. What would happen if someone told their boss that they thought the last meeting was a colossal waste of time because not one thing was decided in the two hours you talked in circles? Would they be fired? Would they be written up? Would they appreciate the feedback? Who knows? What would happen if you told your longtime boyfriend that he can’t always be the one making the decisions about your life together? That you don’t want to be stuck in the same “dating” cycle for another year. What if you were to tell him that you two aren’t on the same page, and if you don’t get there soon, that will be the end? Who knows? Why wait to find out if what you have right now isn’t what you want or need? It is that uncertainty of the response that stops people from saying what they really need and want to say. Just say it!!

My father and I didn’t utter the words I Love You for years. YEARS. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and we just don’t talk to each other like that. Just the thought of saying it made me shudder with anxiety. Unfortunately, it took something bad to happen to make us both realize we were being absurd. The first time he said it to me I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t prepared for it. I quickly responded back with the same three words, hung up, and called my mom to tell her he had said it. Then I called my best friend to tell her. It was that shocking. Yet, it was the best shock of my life and I will cherish those three words from him. Some people say it frequently and I often wonder if it begins to lose its power. If it just becomes part of your regular repertoire of sayings to your loved ones, does it hold the same meaning? I don’t know- I don’t say it very often. I want someone to know I really mean it when I say it and that it’s not just a phrase that I’m going to end a phone call with.

 

Most of you know that I can be, at times, overtly honest in my opinions and responses. Isn’t that better than not responding at all? Why would you ask me if you didn’t want an honest answer? If my two-cents is unwarranted, fine tell me to kick rocks. My best relationships are with people who are as honest with me as I am with them. Can it be uncomfortable at times? Sure, because she looks fat in those pants and doesn’t want to hear it. Fine, don’t ask… and for the love of God take those pants back.

 

All I ask if you are someone that I deal with regularly and consider me a friend or family member, colleague or acquaintance, communicate effectively. Try it, be honest, be open, put your guard down. Ask for what you want and explain why you need it. If you lose people because of it, then good riddance. Thank me later.

 

Sincerely,

Thinks she has her PhD in psychology,

Beth

The Best Year of My Life

I recently had a conversation with someone who stated that she had the “best year of her life” at the age of 36. This made me ask, “How the hell do you remember what you did at 36?” and also, “How do you remember it to be your best year of your life?” She went on to explain some profound life events that took place that year that paved the way for the “best year” title.  I got to thinking, “Beth, what year was the best year of your life?” Hmmmm…

While this poses an actual question, the real question that comes to mind is how I would ever remember far back enough to know what happened each year that might push it into 1^st place for Best Year of My Life (hereafter known as BYOML). I barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning let alone the past 39 years. So I’m going to attempt this by going back a few years or so and trying to pinpoint people/events/etc. that might give that year a leg up to take the prize of BYOML.

1994-1998: High school. Nothing about any of these years made any of them the BYOML. As a matter of fact they may have been the WYOML. They really should warn teens about these years being terrible. Yes, I was thin and  I made great friends and yes I had fun experiences, but ugh, terrible years, terrible.

1998-2006: I can bypass all of these years because they just consisted of school, being poor, Freshman 40# (it is 40 right?), working, and not knowing WTH I wanted to do with my life. Fell in lust a few times which obviously didn’t pan out. I learned how to live with roommates and the ups and downs of "being on my own".  I did move to Alaska which must be something good since I am still here… On another upside, I reconnected with friends and family that live here and I love that! 

One of my first roommates ever, Steffy.

2006-2009: Had a menial job that I worked hard at but got paid shit for. Made some lifelong friends. Lived in the basement of someone else’s house. Got matched with my Little Sister Amia-- 11 years going strong!! Started dating the ultimate sociopath/liar/I could go on but I won’t….. Not the BYOML.

Amia and I circa... 2016?

2009-2012: Had a job that I loved, boss I hated. Got fired. Positives- I learned a TON, had the opportunity to travel all over this state, and met some amazing people. Kept dating aforementioned loser until I found out he was cheating on me with half of Anchorage. #sweet #wastedprimeyearsofmylife. BUT, I moved into my little cabin that I continue to love and adore.. so this moves these years up the ladder of BYOML but I do not believe it hit’s #1. Oooh, and I got chickens which we all know makes me incredibly happy. Solid #2.

Not the cheater... but one of my favorite humans Geno!

2013-2017: Nothing really jumps out at me during this timeframe except I met my #1 Boo Boo Torrie who I don’t know what I would do without…So maybe that year is in the running…. Not to mention my brother got married which was cool. Maybe….but it was also the year I lost my Zoe so it’s kind of a catch 22. These were also the years I decided I was going to learn how to say “no” to things I didn’t want to do. Some call it selfish, but without sounding .. well, selfish, I don’t care. Call an Uber the next time you fly into town. I will not lose sleep over it. 

My #1 BooBoo (in a complete heterosexual way)

2017-2019: Got my job at RurAL CAP that I love but am still unsure what I want to do “when I grow up”. I sometimes feel like 40 is going to hit me and I will have nothing to show for it. I’ve skated through life and now I’m at the middle point wondering WTH I did with my life. I recently gave someone the advice that you only live once so make that life worthwhile. Do I live life by that same standard? I do know that I choose to spend time with people who I enjoy and who I trust. I'm over the dramatics and BS. I have enough amazing people in my life to even consider dwelling on those that don't contribute to my awesome life. #byefelicia.

So after many deep thoughts and browsing pictures to see what happened in various years, I’ve come to this simple conclusion: I haven’t had the BYOML. Yet. I have faith it’s still to come. It might look different from what I thought or expected it to be years ago, but I’m okay with that. Desires change. Needs differ. Expectations skew. In the end, I want the next year and the year thereafter to be the BYOML. Why not have something to look forward to?

Thirteen years. I never in a million years thought I would still be living in Alaska after my impromptu move here. Never. It still kind of shocks me. How did it all start? Let me tell you…

I was living in Minnesota when my parents decided to build a house in Mexico. Yep, Mexico. Meanwhile, they had a house in California that needed tending to while they were away. Enter me. I stayed at the house while they galivanted around looking for the perfect spot (which they found and have since sold.. we won’t talk about that sore subject). Meanwhile my eldest brother was living in Alaska with his girlfriend and all seemed good in the world. Then one day my brother called in a state of….. hmm… panic/sadness/anger/shock because his sweet little girlfriend had left him while he was at work on the North Slope and had taken some things that maybe didn’t belong to her. Long story short, he flew down to CA and he and I, along with his friend, drove up to Alaska. Him to go home, the friend to move up for work, me to find and beat the hell out of the girlfriend. Sorry not sorry. I never did find her, but that is probably a good thing.

So here I am, 13 years later reminiscing about the past years and pondering the coming years. I’m thinking about the jobs I’ve had, friends (and men) who have come and gone, adventures I’ve been on, places I’ve seen, and lessons I’ve learned. I sometimes think about the life I would have had if I had stayed in California or Minnesota or moved elsewhere. Would I be married with kids? President of my own company? Living on a farm by myself with a handsome farmhand? (Hey, it could happen!) But this is the life I have, and the one I will probably continue to have for awhile because I’m kind of set right now. I love my house. I love my job. I love my circle of friends. I love looking out my window and thinking I must live in one of the most beautiful places.

But on the other hand, the Anchorage I live in now isn’t the same Anchorage I moved to years ago. Maybe I’m more cognizant of the issues, maybe crime has always been bad, maybe the homeless population hasn’t increased, and maybe our government hasn’t always been so flawed. So you take the good with the bad and choose to stay or go, right? For now, I will stay put.

 

Here are some of my favorite memories from the past 13 years. I am so blessed to call so many people friends and have been so fortunate to travel and experience this magnificent state I call home. For easier viewing, view in Full Screen. Enjoy.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

There comes a time in some relationships where you realize that it is just time to walk away. You’ve done everything in your power to make it work and it just isn’t. And won’t and you feel the steady decline.

I recently had to make the choice to end a really long relationship. Most of you didn’t even know I was in one; I kept it secret out of shame and fear of judgement. Now I’m ready to move on and be a better me. But here is one last love note to end it forever.

Dear T,

You’ve been my constant companion for most of my life. You’ve been there when I was down and needed to just zone out and forget about the world. You introduced me to new, great things. You provided me with the opportunity to learn and grow and expand my horizons.

The problem is, you consume too much of my time. You are needy always reminding me of things I’m not seeing and your memory is just too full of things we’ve done together. I just couldn’t get away from it. When I turn you on all you want to do is make me watch you. Well, I’ve spent too much time with you and I need to work on me and not live vicariously through you anymore. I am done being your Sugar Mama spending all of my money on you. We are done TiVo. Done.

You will be forever missed,

Beth

One month. One million thoughts.

I am almost 40 years old. I have had my fair share of relationships, flings, flirts, and the other relationships that don’t fit in any of the aforementioned categories. I’ve dated long-term, I’ve dated short-term, I’ve lived with men, I’ve been a stepmom figure, I’ve dated a Mormon (hey that was a step out of the ol’ comfort zone), rich men, poor men, smart men, etc. etc. The list can go on. They all have one thing in common: It didn’t work out. Why you ask? Oh lord, the list of reasons could go on and on… but it doesn’t matter, what matters is those relationships didn’t work out. What else matters is how easy it was for me to wash my hands of them. A few stuck for a bit, and a few I look back on and wonder why it didn’t work or what if it had. But for the most part, I’m an “everything happens for a reason” type person. Que Sera Sera. Get over it and move on with your life type person.

"Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time." Maya Angelou

It wasn’t until recently that I met someone that had an effect on me that I wasn’t really expecting and quite frankly, can’t make it go away. I think I got to this point in my life where I figured I’d live alone and raise my chickens and cats and be content (my God that sounds terribly lame). But I was okay with it. Hell, that’s been my life for the last 10 years so why change now? It’s easier. I answer to myself. I don’t have to shave my legs. I won’t get hurt. I can walk around buck a’ naked and not feel self-conscious about it. Being single is great, right? I used to think so. Then this guy walks into my life and I realize that maybe having a connection with someone and wanting to spend time with someone is worth all the bullshit that could potentially go along with it.

Physical attraction is one thing, and I am attracted to him physically, don’t get me wrong. I wanted to touch him constantly (sorry mom). But more importantly I am attracted to him because he is smart, funny (not as funny as me), thoughtful, affectionate, and communicative. I felt like I had known him my entire life after the first two dates. There was an ease I hadn’t felt before with someone and it was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. I’m a terrible dater. I admit it. I have the mentality that if I like you and you like me, then let’s date and call it good. It usually bites me in the ass because things move too quickly. Case in point. But I felt like I was moving at the pace that we both set, not just me.  The thing is, it couldn’t work with him. Not now. He is a recent divorcee with young children. While some people can bounce back from a break-up or divorce and jump into something new easily, that wasn’t the case with him. I don’t know the details, I don’t have to. But I know that it affected him greatly and that although he thought he was ready to start something new, he really wasn’t. Even with me, and I’m awesome. (Self-proclaimed) That realization came quickly and out of nowhere to me. One day we were meeting up for drinks the next day I was getting the cold shoulder. It’s easy to blame yourself and it’s easy to think you did something wrong, but I couldn’t come up with anything. I felt sad. I felt mad. I felt confused. I went through the five stages of grief in a matter of days. Denial that it was happening. Anger that I was getting ghosted. Bargaining with him to try to make him see I was okay with whatever he could give. Depressing thoughts because I knew deep down he was ending it with me even if I didn’t quite know why. Acceptance, the final step, maybe hasn’t fully set in. That would mean it really is done and over with. For good. Forever.

"Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud."

So, what’s the ridiculous blog post about? I cannot, for the life of me, get over this. It's hurt me down to my core and I haven’t experienced that before. Even after being cheated on. Even after living with someone for years and finding out it wasn’t ever going anywhere. The thing is, it’s dumb. We only hung out for.. wait for it.. one month. I KNOW!! I can’t explain it. I'm not a psycho. It just felt right. It was one month that felt like I’d known him ten years. It was one month that felt like I couldn’t wait for the next month, or ten. It felt like it was so easy that the logical next step would be to plan the coming weeks together. We made jokes about how many dates we’d actually have been on had it not been for our schedules. There were so many similarities and connections and discussions about things we could do that it felt so easy, so normal, so exciting, so ….. “Holy shit I like this guy and can’t find one thing I don’t like about him!”.. That doesn’t happen with me. I am the nitpicker of all nitpickers.

Did things happen quickly? Yes. Did I think there was more potential than him? I have no idea. It didn’t seem that way at the time. Was I more into him than he was me? Obviously. But I felt like it was mutual then. Did something happen that scared him away? I have no clue. It all happened so suddenly. One day I’m on cloud nine because I had met this amazing guy and the next minute I’m sitting there dumbfounded because I just got blindsided by his reality I guess.

All I know is I’m sad. Like, high school heartbreak sad. I’ve never felt this kind of sadness before. It's like a weight on your chest and an inner ache that you can't shake. My God I sound like a lunatic. It’s like knowing you lost something great but have zero control over it. I’m sad about the potential for something that could have been great, and I know it could have been great. I’m sad that he is sad and that he was hurt and that he is hurting. I’m sad that someone would treat someone they care about or have ever cared about in any capacity, in a way that would make them turn away from the possibility of being happy. I have never intentionally hurt someone like that and I can’t understand why someone would do that to someone they supposedly cared about. I want to give him a hug and remind him that there are a good people out there that do care about him (even if it had just been one month) and that I saw enough potential for something great that I would be willing to wait. I’m in no hurry. Hell, I’m almost 40. I can’t have kids; I don’t need to move fast for any reason whatsoever. He gave me a peek inside what it could have been like and taking that away was like ripping off a band aid. But not a little paper cut band aid, like a big open-wound band aid, connected to hairs. 

I was asked to walk away and that’s what I did. But it definitely feels like I turned my back on someone I cared about and that even after one month maybe needed me but wasn't ready to need someone. And I don’t do that easily. The thing is, there’s nothing I can do. I’m a fixer and I can’t fix this. I’m not privy to enough information to fix it, nor does he want me to be a part of the fix. I get that. I do. I’m not angry in any way. I’m sad for him and for me at the same time. I think about how he must feel after years of marriage and here I am being sad about one month. But is there a litmus test for how much time it takes to feel something for someone? Absolutely not, so I can’t discount my own feelings. I also can't discount his or where he is at right now. It's not easy, but WTF else am I supposed to do?

Someone asked me if I thought I would ever hear from him again when he felt he was ready. Honestly? I have no idea. Part of me hopes he will reach out because from my perspective, it could have been great. We laughed a lot (super important to me), had a connection (so I thought), planned a decathlon that I was hell-bent on winning (and totally would have), and to me, had that je ne sais quoi. In my core, and that sounds so ludicrous even as I type it,  I know, but down deep in the feels, I felt there was something different about him; something that could be pretty great. But alas, timing is everything and timing is not currently on my side. Maybe one day.. I just wonder if I cross his mind as much as he crosses mine. If not, well, maybe I can’t trust my intuition as well as I thought I could. If not, hopefully this sadness will subside sooner rather than later. If so, I look forward to the day I see his name come across my phone. 

Until then, I live life like I have for the past 39 years with sporadic thoughts of the "what could have been" and "maybe one day will be". 

 "The two most powerful warriors are patience and time." Leo Tolstoy

Getting Bitch Slapped by Life.

Here’s the thing; we all get older. We just do. There are certain things that happen as you grow older and you just have to deal with them. But what if you don’t know how? Or want to?

I turned 39 years young this year. I have no spouse. No kids. Nobody to wash my butt when I get old. Hey, it’s a thing!! But, it is what it is. Not much I can do about it. But along with that age admission comes, reality. Reality is like a bitch slap to the face sometimes and man, oh man, did I get a good backhand recently.

So the one part of getting older I don’t know how to handle doesn’t have anything to do with me. I mean, it does, but doesn’t.  I’ve always feared death. Not my own, but people I care about. We’ve had some scares. We’ve had some diagnoses. We’ve had some accidents. But it isn’t until it gives you the ol’ one-two punch that you realize that nobody is immortal; even if you want them to be. Or need them to be.

Recently my dad had a cancer diagnosis. The big, bad, C word. It’s funny really, how life works. He had a kidney stone (about time I’m not the only one who knows that pain), and he was going to get it blasted. To do so, they’d insert a stint into his you-know-what. You’re welcome….. Along the way they noticed tumors which indicated cancer. My mom was there, thinking they were doing a normal procedure, just to find out from some a-hole doctor who was in a hurry, that her husband of 40+ years had cancer. Yep, picture this jerk juggling his keys whilst telling my mother her husband has cancer.  I could damn near have an embolism over this (but my mom won’t tell me the doctor’s name which is smart on her part). So instead, they tell her they will get the results of the biopsy in ten day. TEN MF@#$*(@)#* days.

Days had never passed at such a painful pace. Checking my phone constantly waiting for “the call”. Leaning on friends, not knowing what to do or say. Acting normal but wanting to just stay home and cry for fear of the unknown. Thank God that we got the best news possible outside of a benign diagnosis.  But let me tell you about the in-between. The affect. I’m solely speaking from my angle as the only daughter of a father who just got diagnosed with cancer.

Your dad is indestructible. Your dad is strong. Your dad is the person who knows all the answers. So when there is the possibility that he may not be here for much longer; it’s goddamn scary. It puts things in perspective and it makes the bullshit .. well just that, bullshit. Every fight. Every word not spoken. Every hug not given. Just seems so damn stupid.

My dad is my go-to-guy. He’s the one person I’ve gone to my whole life for questions and answers about Life’s Moving Parts. Oil changes, money, moving, how to’s, etc. It’s been primarily ”business chats” lacking much outward emotion, but mostly because that’s how he is, and that’s how I am, and together we get by just fine. And together we are one awkward ball of love without knowing how to show or say it. It works for us. Or at least I thought it did.

You see, I’m the middle child, only girl. My dad worked hard for us building houses and slaving away on the north slope of Alaska. I didn’t appreciate it then. Instead I held grudges for the soccer games he missed, but also felt relief for the times he was gone when I knew I could get away with things. It was the proverbial double-edged sword.  But deep down, I saw how my friends interacted with their dads and I wanted that. I wanted that “daddy’s little girl” relationship but it had been so long since it’d been that way, that I didn’t know how to come back to it. I honestly don’t know if it really ever existed. It isn’t that I don’t know he loves me, because I know he does. It isn’t as though he doesn’t respect me, because I think he does. It’s that he and I are the same when it comes to showing emotions with one another. We just do it differently. I’m more comfortable buying you something rather than telling you how I feel. I will fix something for you to show I care. I will be there for you to show support. I am probably not the person you’ll go to for the shoulder to cry on. But if you need me to tell you how I feel, it probably isn’t happening; or at least it wasn’t. It made me wildly uncomfortable and I felt like a teenage girl asking a boy to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Awkward is a good describing word.  I wanted to say it. I wanted to show it. I wanted to express it, but it all felt so awkward. Until that day.

Until that day my mom called and said my dad had cancer. That was the day I decided to be done being afraid. Being awkward. Taking the easy way out.  I still wasn’t sure what to say when I talked to him. I didn’t want to shrug it off as though I wasn’t affected, but I didn’t want to jump in explaining how scared I was or how I didn’t know what I’d do without him. I wasn’t ready for that conversation quite yet. So we played the game as usual. “How are you?”, “Kidneys stones suck, eh?”… chatted for a few and then I had to go back to work. It was then, for the first time in quite possibly, my adult life, he ended our conversation with, “I love you.”   It sounds so small. So trivial. So insignificant. But I think when those words are spoken so often, you forget the significance. The impact. The power.  The sheer force. Although this time may be one of the worst I’ve been through thus far, I think it was a pivotal moment between father and daughter. A pivot that I think we’ve both wanted but weren’t sure how to make the first move. With that said… Dad, I love you. I am so thankful and grateful to be your only daughter. To be told I’m “so much like your father” is the best compliment I could receive. But I swear to God… if you ever do this to me again I will fly to wherever you are and give you a giant bear hug… and you and I both know that would be super awkward so let’s stay healthy, eh?

I am Woman, hear my Roar.

Ya know, I’d like to think I’m a pretty strong woman. From early on, growing up in the hills of the Butte playing with hatchets and building forts with my brothers and cousins, I dealt with some adverse situations that no child should ever encounter.  Then, this little tomboy moved to California where I fit in like Clampett at the Cleavers house, fighting and kicking ass and taking names. Moving into high school the reputation of tomboy stuck with me, but I used it to stick up for the underdogs and used my powers for the good of all (or so I’d like to think). In any case, I’ve been able to hold my own and I’m pretty proud to be an independent, strong woman. So when all of this #metoo business came about, I’ll be honest, I rolled my eyes and guffawed at the women coming out of the woodwork pointing fingers and placing blame, wondering why they hadn’t said anything or done anything before, and now felt the need to jump on the proverbial wagon. But you see, I’m a hypocrite. There are very few people who know about my childhood trauma and I chose, and will continue to choose, not to say anything because there are people who would be very affected; maybe more so than I was/am/could have been. It’s my choice just like it’s the choice of all of these women coming forth now. Good on them. Brava.

So what is this all about? I’m coming forth with a new event that recently occurred in my life that I just can’t seem to get out of my head. It’s like that one fly that keeps buzzing around and right when you think he’s gone, he comes back with a vengeance.

I worked at the Dimond Center Hotel bar for over a year mixing drinks, meeting cool people, chatting with locals and tourists, all the while really just enjoying my two days a week there. Then in October they hired a new Marketing Director who took over supervision of the bar. Fine. We were doing fine, the rest of the bar staff and I knew what we were doing. All was well until this guy comes in like he owns the place and starts making changes, getting rid of products and all the while not listening to any of our suggestions. As a matter of fact, told me point blank he didn’t want, and wouldn’t be asking for, our suggestions or opinions. I should point out he has never managed a bar or restaurant before. I should also point out; word on the street is he was fired from other hotels for misogynistic comments and/or actions. Meanwhile, he met with the other bartender and during that meeting yelled and cussed and left her in tears. He would walk into the bar arrogantly every day, talking down to me while offering up some new idea or concept he wanted us to promote. One time he had a “Cocktail specials” list that just listed various vodkas, gins, and other liquors. Ummm, not a cocktail list Mr.Doesn’tKnowWhatHe’sDoing.

Whatever, I could bitch and complain about it to my friends and to the other bartenders because we all knew he was a jerk and we were going to just let him sink his own ship. Until. He demanded that I show up to work one day an hour early to meet with him. I explained that I work full-time and leaving an hour early wasn’t happening. I said I would be there 30 minutes prior to my shift and we could talk then. I showed up and without addressing me in any way he said, “Upstairs conference room now.” I calmly explained that if this was how he was going to talk to me, that I was not going to proceed with the meeting. But I did. During the meeting he went on and on about how he came to the hotel to “save” the bar and restaurant because it was in the red and he did all of this work and all he got was attitude from me and the other bartenders and cooks and he just wanted a team. We didn’t do this or that or listen to this or that. When he was done with his rant, I calmly explained that we were a team and we all worked well together but he chose not to be a part of the team. He didn’t want to be a part of our group texts that we used to communicate when we ran out of things, when we needed a shift covered, etc. He was a dictator, not a team player. I explained that all we wanted was some respect and for him to listen to our suggestions because we knew our customers and we knew what people had suggested for menu items and we knew what worked and what didn’t. If he just “asked” for suggestions then all would be merry at the ol’ bar.  It was then that I could see something snap in him. It was scary. He slammed his hand on the table and yelled, “I DON’T HAVE TO ASK YOU FOR ANYTHING. I AM THE FUCKING BOSS! THE FUCKING BOSS! I DON’T ASK YOU, I TELL YOU WHAT TO DO AND YOU DO IT BECAUSE I AM THE FUCKING BOSS!.” I sat there calmly (on the outside, on the inside I was livid) and I retorted with, “Did you really just scream and curse at me?” and he said, “YES I DID!”. I explained that I had never, in all of my 38 years been yelled at or cursed at like that by anyone, especially not a grown man and that maybe if he was having problems with every single person he “managed” he should take a look at himself and his management style, because it obviously wasn’t working. He didn’t like that very much. He got up, turned the lights off in the room, and walked out. While I was still sitting in there. There’s a lot more in between these lines but it wasn’t worth mentioning. The point is, a grown man, a manager, had a temper tantrum and screamed and cursed at me. So I called the General Manager, explained what happened and he decides to call a meeting with the other bartenders. We talked about our issues and concerns and he point blank said, “I’m not going to fire him if that’s what you think.” And I knew right then and there he just waged a war with me and didn’t even know it.

To make a long story longer, I spoke to the CEO and to other corporate higher ups. I documented, emailed, talked on the phone, and followed up. After over a week of no communication, I emailed the CEO of the corporation and asked for an update. Radio silence. Then, through the grapevine, I find that the Old Man Gang (CEO, GM, Supervisor) met and decided that it hadn’t happened, he never yelled or cursed, and that was that. I sent an email resigning explaining that I wouldn’t work for a company that condoned that kind of behavior. Never heard back. All was said and done… or was it?

I’m finding myself in a psychological and moral conundrum. Do I let it go, move on, throw my fist in the air and admit defeat? Or do I push the issue? Do I file a suit with the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and let them decide? Make them sweat a little. Part of me thinks that I should let it go and another part of me thinks this guy can’t keep getting away with this and he needs to know he messed with the wrong damn woman. I really want to stick it to the man but don’t want to be petty about it.

What would you do?

A Bitch Session: When your student loan payment could afford you a Lamborghini

I should have a PhD to show for all the years I spent in college. I need a PhD salary to pay for all of the years I spent in college.

I didn’t have plans to go to college. School never really interested me and I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I “grew up” so college wasn’t a priority. When I first decided to go to college I was working full-time plus a part-time job living in the suburbs of Minneapolis. I could barely afford to eat let alone pay for classes so I did what every student does who has never been told not to; I took out student loans. “What? You want to give me $10,000 even though my classes only cost $3,000?” Hell yes I will jump on that boat. Hell, I will buy that boat with my newly found $7,000.

Fast forward about 7 years and I move to Alaska where I start working a job that required a degree. A degree I never got because I dilly dallied around during my previous stint in college. I had a lot of credits that amounted to absolutely nothing; but debt, of course.  Although I worked at this job for years without a degree, and managed just fine, they required me to get one so away I went off to college again. You’d think as someone who is moderately intelligent I would know not to do the ol’ student loan thing again, but alas, I am not that smart apparently. My previous loans had been paid off (thanks dad), and here I was paying for classes with money I did not have. But wait, that’s not the only dumb thing I did you see. The University of Alaska, where I was attending, would only accept a fraction of my previously earned (and paid for) credits so I was having to re-take several classes again…and pay for them.. .again. Then one day someone told me about Alaska Pacific University’s “Degree Completion Program”. Basically I’d graduate in a fraction of the time and with all of my previous credits being well, credited.  Sounds good, right? WRONG! Not only were the classes online and absolutely horrible, I paid for it out the wazoo. I think we all know what part of the body the wazoo is, too. At the time it seemed worth it. What’s the difference of a few thousands, ahem, tens of thousands of dollars? Well, I can tell you- approximately 60 years of paying it back.

The reason I’m telling you this sob story is because student loans piss me off. There are two reasons it angers me so.

#1- Unless you are doing surgery on my brain or representing me in a murder trial, why the hell does anyone need a degree? I navigated life for a long time without one and did just fine. I held positions that required them, and dare I say did just as good of a job as someone with a degree. So what’s the diff? I would much prefer to hire someone with experience and good work ethic than someone who sat in a classroom for four years and has no knowledge of what the real working world is like. I can almost guarantee you that with enough training, I can do the same job as a person with a degree. This of course is with the exception of anything numerical (accounting, CFO, treasurer) because no amount of school, training or money will ever, ever, entice me to work with numbers. Ever..never, ever.

#2- Here people are, trying to better their lives with an education and essentially adding more to the economic growth of our country, yet we make it almost impossible to do so without adding significant, long-term debt to their lives. What sense does that make? We have a welfare program that basically enables and pays people not to work. Why wouldn’t they GIVE people money for school to get them into the workforce and become productive members of society?

Why should money or lack thereof, dissuade someone from getting an education? Why should one college cost more than another? Why should you have to pay more to go to a school outside of your state? Wouldn’t you think it would be a great experience for our young whipper snappers to move out of their homes, experience a new city and state, and people? But what 18 year old kid can do that without the help of student loans? Yes, I know they could get a job and yatta yatta, but they gotta eat, and live, and buy overly expensive books they will hardly ever use.  IT JUST DOESN’T MAKE SENSE TO ME!

Was it my choice to take out student loans? Of course. Was it my choice to go to a private college rather than a crummy local college? Of course. Was it my choice to get a degree in Human Services that basically limits me to doing non-profit, low-paying work the rest of my life? Of course. (I don’t really think it limits me but I’m trying to make a point here) But my actual point is that it is so damn expensive and it’s frustrating that we give people so many things; why not make education one of them? Life isn’t fair, I get that. Just remember that if I “disappear”, mark me as deceased ASAP because my student loans get cancelled and I can live a worry-free life in the South Pacific. I mean, six feet under.