The Happiness Project: Because Being Sad is Bullshit - Part One

I've been floating along the river of life with a hole in the bottom of my boat. It isn't that I didn't know it was there. I just couldn't find the time or energy to care, let alone fix it. So I'd take a bucket to it every once in a while, cursing life and telling the universe it can go fuck itself as I scooped out just enough to stay afloat. Eventually you just let the water level rise because what's the point, it'll just refill anyway.

So I'm slowly sinking. My boat is filled with all of the things I haven't dealt with and I'm about to drown. Not literally of course. This is a metaphorical drowning. Just as I feel like I'm headed towards the intersection of "Woe-is-me" and "Pittyville", I have an epiphany. Being sad is BULLSHIT! I don't have to be sad! I can do something about this! I know how to fucking swim!

I've decided to build a new boat, one that doesn't have a hole this time, maybe even with a jacuzzi or a ferris wheel. The point is, I'm not going to just let life happen. I've decided to start my own happiness project because dammit, I deserve it.

The Happiness Project is a multifaceted effort. The first part is about cutting the crap. This means a few things, like decluttering my room. Decluttering my room is much more difficult than it sounds because I share my space with Professor. I've had to make decisions on whether to keep the Batman or the T-rex. These are hard decisions people! I probably would have gotten more done if I didn't have to stop every 20 minutes to deal with a slight panic attack over how overwhelming this whole thing really is. After all, hitting the reset on your life isn't a small thing. Cutting the crap also means no more excuses, no more negative thought patterns. If being sad is bullshit, then continually making myself sad is the bull who produces said shit.

The second part of The Happiness Project is creating new habits. Did you know it only takes 20 minutes to do the dishes and put a load of laundry in the washing machine?! My lazy ass had no fucking clue. So now I have a reminder set every day to actually get up and be useful for 20 minutes. Gotta love those high expectations.

The other new habit I'm working on is being more put together with the way I dress. Mind you, you'll very rarely see me looking like a slob. It is one of my endearing psychotic tendencies that I must be presentable at all times. However, if I want to feel collected and polished I need to actually do more than brush my hair and put on make-up. For girls this usually means *accessories!*. I love accessories but I'm so damn disorganized that by the time I have the basics done in the morning - like deodorant and shoes - it is time for me to be out the door. It may seem silly but knowing that my shoes match my outfit and that I took the extra ten minutes to put on jewelry - Clasps are hard. Don't judge me.- really makes a different in how I feel and function throughout the day.

The final phase I'll discuss in my next post. Until then enjoy this clip from one of my favorite musicals "Starship Ranger" by Starkid Productions. The song seemed fitting.

Ice Cream Man Turf Battle

I heard this story on the radio this morning and I couldn't resist sharing it for Funny Friday. Two ice cream men have a turf war and amazing puns ensue.

The Real Disaster Wednesday

The real disaster Wednesday began in the quiet of early morning. It began like so many natural disasters do, with an eruption. I will spare you the details but I will say this; You know you truly love your child when you run towards the spewing and sputtering rather than away from it. After a shower Professor seemed fine but tired. I sent him off to bed where he played video games and lounged for a few hours.

Around noon he came to me and said the most beautiful phrase I have ever heard him utter, "Mom, I'm tired." I asked him if he wanted to take a nap and when he replied "Yes." the clouds parted and the angelic Hallelujah chorus rang out. It was a Disaster Wednesday miracle.

He slept and seemed better when he woke up. I gave him toast late in the evening after he complained of being hungry. I should have known better. Professor has a sensitive stomach. Once the eruptions begin you need to wait 24 hours before it is safe to return to our usual routine. That isn't to say he doesn't eat but I know that eating is a dangerous venture. However, ten hours had passed since the last incident so I felt a false sense of security. The second piece of toast should have had my brain screaming **DANGER WILL ROBINSON! DANGER!** but alas, it did not.

He went to bed and when I checked him my motherly instinct was to cuddle the poor kid. My instincts could not have been more wrong. A gentle rocking was all it took to set him off again. I bathed him and changed my blankets decided I should probably turn in early myself since this was likely to continue. I was just starting to relax with Professor snuggled up beside me when I heard him cough and then gag a little. I asked him if he was going to throw up. He said no and the moment I was relaxed again he proceeded to prove himself wrong. Not only was he wrong but he made sure it landed both on the bed and between the bed and the wall. So again, I cleaned him up and changed the sheets. And that was the end of Disaster Wednesday, thankfully.

During the second half of this venture I also learned that my Dad, a regular victim of Murphy and his twice damned law, had been suffering through a Disaster Wednesday of his own. Having picked up his utility trailer from a family member, he was driving down the road when the entire wheel just fell off. He thinks someone may have purposefully loosened the bolts. Not only was the trailer damaged but it also took four hours for the right tow truck to show up. First, they sent a regular tow truck but a whole new company had to be contacted since a flatbed was necessary.

All in all, it was a typical Disaster Wednesday. What can go wrong will.

Disaster Wednesday: The Hair Disaster

Every girl has had a bad hair day at some point. I've been having a bad hair year. You see, I grew up with straight hair. It was never great but it was predictable. I knew how much conditioner to use and what hair cut  looked best. Over the past year my hair has betrayed me. My trust was broken when I awoke one morning to find that my straight, boring hair was wavy. Not only has my hair become wavy but it has become progressively more wavy over the past few months.

At first I was overjoyed. I had always been envious of those curly haired folk with their lustrous locks. But my happiness quickly soured. I had, and still have, no idea how to take care of my new mane. I've done the research and it is dizzying. I used to use whatever cheap shampoo smelled nice and conditioned every other day (at most). Now I must attempt to be sulfate and silicone free while learning exactly how much conditioner I need for my suddenly dry and frizzy hair. I've learned about co-washing (washing only the scalp with shampoo and the rest with conditioner). I've also learned I shouldn't brush my hair, a habit which is incredibly difficult to break.

After all of this research one would think that I had found the solution to taming my now wavy/curly hair but that would be wrong, very very wrong. I still have no idea how to style my hair and every day is a crapshoot  ending in a combination of curly/wavy/straight hair.