-Mobile continuation from Xanga blog PinkyGuerrero
-Most of the graphics and vids click to sources.
-Personal blog for Janika Banks.
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Tuesday, February 20, 2018

We Are Pinky

And then I remember who I am and everything is ok again.

hating on my life for a brief moment

You know how you do stuff because someone else pushes you into it, and you go ok because that's the only way you really seem to get to do anything with that person, and then once you get into it they either get busy or lose interest, and then you're doing it by yourself, right. That happens to me over and over and over. My family, my friends, nearly everyone I interact with.

Sometimes I try to turn it around, let's do what I want to do, and they rarely follow me into what I like, or if they do they kinda misinterpret and send me into facepalm fails and I have regrets galore. So I have learned to just stop showing people what I really like. I mean, even on Pinky blog, you guys really don't have a clue what I really really like.

Finding something to enjoy with someone is hard. Finding someone who fills a spot where both just enjoy hanging out is rare and precious. When I see people who understand this, I feel less alone. When I see other people who can't imagine being this lonely, I feel jealous.

Anyway, so I have adapted to something I got pulled into, I remember balking at the start about the goals and how much work it looked like and way too interactive, and now I'm actually doing it and enjoying it immensely, and I'm feeling left behind again.

Trying new things for other people can't be a thing any more. I have spent so many hours of my life adapting to other people's whims or lifestyles. If I were to add up all those hours, counting all my family, we're talking decades of my life.

It's weird reaching a place and suddenly realizing I didn't get to do what *I* want to do with my own life. Much of the rebellion was escape or distraction. Much of the settling was with the idea that eventually I'd be happier with people than without them, or at least less alone. Oddly, the blaring reality is how alone I feel with people around me everywhere. But at least I can say I tried.

I know a lot of people don't get to do what they want, but one of the incongruities was that my dad did, and he's the most alone person I know. He got to do the motorcycles and exotic hunting on horseback, the traveling, the big ranching and farming. He got to dabble in all the little dreams, and he had money tied up in it.

I always dreamed of traveling, but I kept winding up with the wrong people. I always dreamed of having my own place, but again, wound up with the wrong people for that. So many people have directed my life path without even noticing or caring what I even wanted, that if I don't just point blank say it out loud, my own husband doesn't have a clue. And it's not because he's mean. He's just excruciatingly in his own head doing his own thing his own way. So many people are just born like that.

And then I see people once in awhile who actually get to make all their own life choices, and they complain about so many little things in their day that I feel like tearing my hair out. They chose it and it's still not good enough to embrace. Actually getting to choose and execute one's own will on one's own life is so rare.

If I were to say what I'm really thinking I would lose everyone. I have no one to talk to that wouldn't stab me in the back or walk away and never speak to me. Weirdly, I watched someone else go through this same problem recently, and the fallout that created. I know I can't behave like that.

If I could change one thing in my life right now, I'd make myself not allergic to anything so I could eat a great big sandwich and a bunch of guacamole. If any of you out there run into this and you're feeling all glum and stuff, cheer up and go eat a f*ing sandwich, because I can't. Just go do something while you still can and don't whine about it making you fat. Good lord.


Monday, February 19, 2018


*Head spins looking at the weekly/monthly charts I made at the beginning of the year. What was I thinking?*

Woke up to thunderstorms, so that nixed downloading the server updates. I have less than 6 hours till I pick Bunny up for an appointment, plus stuff I need to do in town when we go in. I had a rock solid plan to sling rugs and curtains into the wash this morning while I sparkle the kitchen floor back to unicorn status, and nothing in brain or body this morning is remembering that was a plan. The gung ho is gone. >=l After a weekend blitzing puke bedding (thank you, Bunny) and nearly everything else washable in this house at the tail end of 2 very long weeks of back to back viruses heavily laced with Hulked up seasonal allergies (yes, allergies in the winter, who's with me on evergreen trees pollinating?), I just don't feel like caring. Because the fail is happening this morning, I have peeled all the rest down in my brain to nothing else gets done till THAT gets done, and we all know how I dread things piling up, which is why I'm a washaholic, so I'm focusing on imaging how delighted I'll be when the floor really is done vs wandering off to do something else. Like blog...

At least I'm documenting whining about it.

Still coughing. Still surfing on antihistamines around the clock. Came this close to hitting my prednisone backstock yesterday but finally kicked the cough for a bit with extra benadryl. I feel like a dried out pickle. What's grosser than a limp dried out pickle.

Meanwhile. Ok, there is no meanwhile. There is nothing but a downpour outside and my body actually protesting coffee this morning because coffee makes the dried up pickle feeling grosser.

Now it's 5 hours. I was updating new link html elsewhere, not associated with Pinky. Guys, I have met my match. I have found people who literally live in the matrix and work nearly nonstop because they're addicted to it. If I manage to keep up with them, I'll be uber conquering if I can also manage to keep my fleet going.

Oh, yeah, THAT is what the weekly/monthly lists were for. Gotcha.

Doesn't make me want to do the floor, though. I may hafta pounce and wrangle myself into force mopping. It's not pretty, but it works. Ah, just scared the minions, now they're begging for chocolate to make up for it. I know what they're doing, they think that will soothe big bad me back down into distraction, so NO WAY! Ha.

Yes, I am that cruel, I torture my own self.

*getting the chocolate chips*


I might've misread that. As soon as I got up to get those, I felt like doing stuff. Nothing like a double agent slick move there. I can't keep up with all that stuff in my head. Whatever.

I've got a floor to clean. A friend of mine in Brazil just charted in English book sales after translation from Portuguese and I'm still sitting here fighting with myself...