ADIOS Amigos

For the past year and eight months I was working for a manufacturing non-profit.  On July 29, 2022 I had my first yearly review which was outstanding.  It also promised me the hardware and software I needed to do my job for them as I was/have been using my own MacBook Pro and Adobe Creative Suite.   In October I sent an email about the gear because as any photographer /videographer/web designer knows, it's extremely difficult using a laptop for detailed work(at least that's my opinion).  

The reply was that it was all dependent on finalizing bills for some of their initiatives.  After numerous emails and passed bucks and a trip to Mexico last week I decided to say FUCK IT. 

No Hardware?  No Heidi.  

This whole pack are a bunch of bloated boomers who want people to give and work for them joyously and for almost free for their cause.  Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.  The joke of the whole matter is that covid hit this region hard and they are not recovering.  They're scrambling for ways to attract and retain the future workforce.  They're not really willing to pay for it though.  

Unless you have a roommate or get married right at 16 up in the hollar, there is no way for a kid to afford an apartment let alone the fabled dream of a house.  In addition, they don't speak the language of the future workforce.  They don't understand social.  Period.

Here is what I wrote to my boss and two other people that were great to work with yesterday after I finished writing an original article along with creating original artwork for posts across their four social channels:

"Hi (Insert Name Here)-

I just posted an article I wrote for social on all four channels.  With that, I am saying farewell to (NON PROFIT).  My time last week with my cousin who has stage four ovarian cancer made me realize to focus on what is important and HOW people treat you.  So much in life boils down to this.  

I have enjoyed working with you but I don’t feel valued or “in the loop” and I am tired of using my computer and paying for my software and skills for nothing in return.  I’ve asked at least five or more times when it clearly states on my outstanding  review that the tools I need to do the job would be provided.  That was seven months ago.  

I feel that my skills are valuable and that the board does not value them as seen by not purchasing the promised software and hardware for the work that I do.  Or understand value of the the growth on social that I have created.I have attached my 2022 review from (NON PROFIT) and the credentials for everything that I use so you have everything you need.  This can also be found on the Google Drive.

M S-  I want to thank you for your kindness and genuineness and saying THANK YOU for the tiniest things!  

D M-   Thanks for cheering for me and thank you for all of your expertise and knowledge!  THANK YOU!  Stay in touch!"

DM Replied almost immediately with kind words mentioning I saved their bacon a few times, a designer I worked with frequently.  

I didn't hear from my boss who I actually liked until this morning via a text which said:

"I was very sad to see your email, but I truly get it.  I want you to know it was a pleasure working with you over the past year and a half.  I wish I could have been there more for you!  I have greatly appreciated all your efforts!

I wish you all the happiness in your next adventures!  Please stay in touch." 

Can I please get a thorough round of BULLSHIT please?  I didn't respond and I don't plan to.  I removed and deleted my email etc.  It feels like a wet, stinky, moldy blanket has been removed.  I still don't know what I'm doing though.  It feels like I never have.  But we all know how we should be treated and should waste no time saying adios amigos to those who treat us otherwise.

My dad says "You need to figure out what you want to do."  I don't fucking know.

Some of us never know and never will.  

Bon Voyage

Next week I was supposed to work at my parent's business while they go on a trip with their employees.  They decided late last week they weren't up for the travel.  My mom generally hates these groups trips and has ALWAYS indulged my dad by going.  My dad LOVES to get away in the winter because his business is quiet.  Did I mention my dad is 80 and still goes to work everyday?  This is a huge sign to me of a transition phase in life.  Feck.

I won't be working there next week as I am now going on the trip with my dad's employees.  OY!  I do know these people and like them.  I have a cousin who I am close to, probably one of my few friends who is dealing with Stage Four Ovarian cancer.  She is young, gorgeous and a veteran Spanish teacher in an inner city high school.  She was able to get off and come with me.

We are so stoked to be going yet at the same time I wonder what it will be like.  I haven't seen her in almost six years.  We live three hours apart and there is no excuse for me not getting there to see her.  So here we are...  meeting up in the midwest to fly south.  She was my first thought when the opportunity arose.

I don't know why we let so much time pass when we become older.  We think things can wait but they can't.  Or we'll catch up next time.  Then "next time" never comes because something happens.  Not this time.  It may be late in the game, but there is always time to make time for what really matters.   CARPE DIEM.

Baby Steppin'

It's January.  It's cold as fuck.  Today is -1 and the sun decided to shine which is a bonus.  It always appears warmer than it actually is.  Luring me outside when I know it's perfectly Antarctic.  What takes me outside in these ball curdling temps is usually the dogs.  I still have dogs.  Four of them.  

Dogs and cats are the new kids in case you are unaware.  

Speaking of Snowflake, he graduated in May.  In November he moved out of the house into his first apartment with his first girlfriend.  This had left me feeling like someone had died.  This left me feeling like I screwed up a huge portion of my opportunity with him.  He's very strong willed like his mother so he's charting his own course.

Really wanted him to go to college and experience life outside of this teensy, conservative, unradical place.  He could always move but he's currently working for my parents doing drywalling and carpentry.  And there's the new experience of being on his own and coupled.

I do not know his girlfriend really at all.  I have not spent ANY time with her.  She's a beautiful girl and plans to continue college next fall two hours away from here.  Snowflake thought he might move with her and go to school perhaps.  Who knows what will happen...  as the ol' polish granny always said, "So goes..."

I miss having him around.  Sometimes I sit and get all negative and down because I think that I will never find out how the story ends!  But I really have to stop myself from dwelling in those negative thoughts because they are downright debilitating and devastating to my heart.  We can only hope for the best, hope they make good decisions and have a relatively safe and happy life.

My dad always told us to "make our marks" on the world but that never happened.  I hate the pressure to "be something."  I quit the entrepreneurial class because it was for those more advanced in their dreams of business creation and ownership.  I hate the fact that I start something and don't finish it.  I hate the fact that I don't feel called to act on SOMETHING.  Anything really.

I am a creative not being a creative right now.  I spend my time working for a non profit from home using my own computer and software.  I also work at a natural pet food store and that inspires me.  I love the product and the clientele.  All of my dogs have their own Instagrams.  Haha.  I guess that's my creative outlet.

Gonna also shout myself out for doing "Dry January" in 2022 and continuing to this day as I type.  I also quit smoking cigs on September 1, 2022.  RIP Coffee and Cigs.  I was also vegan for most of 2022 and it felt really good.  

At more than my "half life" I gotta get back to basics and baby step it to whatever it is that I'm walking toward and try and feel good about it.  xoxo- Ms Mamma

Going Constanza

When I was in high school I read a short story called "Carcinoma Angels."  It always stuck with me:  that inner battle within our minds.  And of course thinking about CANCER.

Fuck cancer.  Cancer sucks.  You know the drill.  My sweet dear, sister, friend cousin who is young and vivacious and a dynamite Spanish teacher in an inner city high school has been told the cancer she has been fighting for the last nine years is spreading and now inoperable.  Although they said she is 

healthy" and can live for more years.  I don't find that reassuring since the cancer is now in FOUR areas.

She was my Maid of Honor.  She's a stunning, hard working, gardening joy bird.  Why does this happen?  For whatever reason, I feel like my mind hasn't progressed with my age.  It's still somewhere in my 30s.  However, the zoom to 50 a couple of years ago has my mind in an existential conundrum.  

I worry about my parents and I am FN lucky to still have them.  They are in relatively good shape but that can change on a dime.  My fam is small and when they're gone, it's just my brother and myself.  I've documented some of our battles over the last years here.  So what am I saying?  

I suppose instead of DWELLING on things you have ZERO control over, go forth and CARPE DIEM the F out of everything.  

Say YES!  Just like George Costanza when he did  the opposite of everything that he normally cringe-ly does.

I am trying to take this advice and here's how:  I failed a motorcycle class that was very basic and had poor instruction.  I was bummed but the next day, I went and took the written test and passed it for my temps.   I scheduled the road test for September and if I am around, I know I'll pass.

I also took a new low paying part time job at a really cool boutique pet supply store.  I am going to help them with their website and social media along with regular retail duties like unloading 50 lb pound bags of chow(CrossFit?)  It's all part of my master plan to still take over the world somehow in my just past prime years!  I may write that fucking novel eventually. Ha.

I registered for an entrepreneurial class that helps you write a business plan and go through all of the research and steps it entails to start a business.  What's my plan?  I'm think dog bar / neopolitan pizza place.  I know it's a stretch if there are dogs and a kitchen involved.  There is a pizzaioli cert class not super far from me if this gets that far.  

Minor tidbit:  I ordered a replacement speed light for my camera.  My camera is old, but it's a sturdy steed and I hope to get back into being inspired.  Get out of your head and into your heart.  Life is too short to NOT fly your freak flag and love and support one another.  I'm going all out CONSTANZA on it.

 

Parked not Driven

Today is a dreary and dismal end of summer day in the Northwoods.  It reminds you that autumn is on the way and soon enough the gray days will stretch into May.  It stinks.  I am staring at a blinking cursor with no other thought than... what do I write?

Since I last vented about my German, things are fine.  He was the baby of the family so waa waa's are expected.  I have a baby brother so I have lots of experience.  I've been waa waaing it lately, too.  But we're not babies anymore.  I see glimpses of what might have been and glimpses of what still could be.  

My dad turned 80 a few weeks ago and it reminds me of things both good and bad and how to reconcile all of it.  Good memories, because I do have loving parents that cared for me and still do.  Bad because I know things can change on a dime and THEN what do you do?

I tend to mediate on things now like how I have wasted so much time.  And now there is limited time left.  I never "became" anything.  My dad always told us to go out and mark our marks.  That didn't happen.  I entrenched myself here at the casa and have made it my sanctuary.  God, I have been here so long and I never thought I would be.  The pinnacle of my personal success is designing the garage after it accidentally burned.  Who will habitate here after I am gone?  This is a very special place.

I'm so envious of the driven, those with goals and desires that let's NOTHING stop them.  There are so many amazing and inspiring people out there.  They are so lucky.  No, I never became a marine biologist or plastic surgeon with an office on Park Avenue(childhood dream haha).  I didn't become an English professor or a lawyer after college.  What am I?  

What do I know about myself?  I am creative and tend to be overly generous.   I am overly critical of myself all the time.  It's not fun.  I would love to find a job posting reading:  Seeking compassionate, creative weirdo for interesting random projects.  DREAMJOB!  Instead, this pastlife photographer is a "support specialist" for a manufacturing non-profit posting social media trinkets related to the trade.  It's not very creative, but they do appreciate me.   I've been parked for a very long time.

So Goes...

My Polish grandmother would always say "So goes..." when there wasn't a good answer for something kind of uncomfortable or sad.  When things go bad, so goes...

My husband packed up some of his shit and left this morning after a night full of craft beer and raging at my son.  So here I am, alone once again.  It isn't bad.  I did Dry January and Veganuary so I call this Dry Veganuary.  I am still going strong so it helps when something like this erupts.  Like a volcano.

I've had a few moments where I feel sad and I want to cry but being alone is something I've been used to!  He hasn't called or texted and neither have I.  He hates my family and we are all screwed up, entitled dick bags.  When I wouldn't engage him in his rant last night, he texted me telling me how much he hates it here and how he is so angry because he is going to "lose his dogs."

Dogs can do strange things to people.  I have watched this man who never had the chance to really bond with a dog go GOO GOO GA GA over the two puppies that we have raised together.  He loves them unconditionally.  You might think I'm joking but he does in fact have way more affection and emotion for them than me.

I am not angry.  It's so fuckin' funny how we tolerate so much shitty behavior in others in the fear of being alone.  That chick isn't me.  So I feel calm in a way.  Alone but calm.

Existential Crisis or Borderline Personality Disorder

I started this blog when Snowflake was just a little speck.  He turns 18 very, very soon.  How did this happen?  Things you never think about as a 20 or 30 something are now so stone cold front and center.  I feel my emotions so deeply its hard for me to elaborate!  Just the idea of getting old and not being there for my kid breaks my heart.  When I had him, I realized how had it must have been for my mom to let me go off to college or anywhere really.

I feel that so much.  It's such a deep note of sadness knowing that someday we won't be there.  Where does the time go?  I don't know but something that is six months or a year away doesn't seem too far now.  I feel like I lost a lot by getting married when he was eight.  His stepdad never wanted to be a stepdad, I guess.  They just never developed a meaningful relationship.  But the kid?  He hates school but is so smart.  And a smart ass.  Sort of like his mom I suppose.  Oh the ranging hormones of the teenage years and for these years!

Carpe Diem (without the Beans)

It's been a hard couple of hours.  Over the weekend, Franklin damaged his eye on something in the house or yard.  He was still in good spirits and after the past six months of nursing back to health from a bacterial infection, things were on the mend.

I made the appointment for Mr Beans and we were faced with a ruptured eyeball.  We could take a wait and see approach(it could just explode at any time and then what would we be faced with?), have an expensive surgery to save the eye or have it removed completely.  Our only option would have been for removal and I wasn't sure I could put him through that at this age.

I rescued him and Ginger when Snowflake was two years old.  They were dumped at a shelter after their owner sold their puppies and their kid was suddenly "allergic to pugs."  Frank didn't like people, specifically men and let them know it.  While this is unnatural for a pug, he eventually mellowed out over the years.  

Thinking about putting him through surgery and wearing a cone for two weeks AND more antibiotics felt like too much!  The guilt I feel is so heavy because Frank was a fighter.  I am so thankful my love came with me to the vet.  He wanted him to have the surgery.  I could not.  Should I have?  I don't know, but I do know that I have been crying for hours on end.  I opted to work from home because I couldn't be a red eyed, stuffed up ball of raw dough at my desk.

When I made the decision, my husband said he couldn't be in the room.  They took Frank away to put a catheter in him and I waited alone for a very long time.  They had trouble getting the line in.  But brought him in, they did.  He was wearing his little soft pajamas I got him.  The most tragic thing is that I do not believe that he wanted to go!  He fought against it.  I told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was.  

He was laying down on his side.  He went limp and then with the second injection, his little heart stopped beating.  His eye open.  My heart breaking, my soul stupefied and stuttering.  

So you try and rationalize things.  And then you second guess yourself.  He was gaining weight and getting better!  Yet, he was fragile and stumbly.  Finally found a great food he liked!  I had to pill him every morning.  That FUCKING eyeball.  That fucking, fucking eyeball.

I am traumatized by witnessing the passing of that sweet soul.  So I sit here, working from home.  I deleted all of my social media and this is the only thing left.  It is comforting and somewhat soothing to write it out.  

I put away his special food.  I have the blankets that he slept on balled up next to me.  I grab them and smell them and squeeze them.  I made a mini shrine on the buffet with his dog bowl with the food he didn't finish in it.  His little wool sweater and antlers he loved so much in the bowl.  My heart breaks.

Mr Beans was pure love and he lived for me.   Lived for ME!  So genuine and loyal.  Life is a precious, fragile gift.  It can change at any moment.  For good or for bad, there is always hope.  When you lose hope, you lose everything that Mr Beans stood for in this world.  Kindness, love, compassion, warmth and forgiveness.  I know I have to forgive myself, but it is hard!

Mr Beans was known for his "pirhanna" move in his healthful years.  He would lunge at your face for a face smash with you.  As he got sick but still felt good, this morphed into selective kisses.  Those kisses were heaven sent.  This past weekend we brought him upstairs to our bed to lounge.  It was so good.  Before he went to the vet yesterday, I came home for lunch and walked him around the yard, he ate and had a pedialyte pop.  He had another one before we went to the vet.  Mother Fucker.   Not Frank.  Just me expressin'.

I asked them to make a paw print of his foot.  I wish I would have done that before he died.  I wish I would have planned a really special day for him knowing now what happened!  Next week I will pick him up in a little box.  I don't think he will remain there long.  I feel so strongly about him!  I have to find strength to Un-box the Beans when that time comes.

I'm glad I fed him french fries on Friday.  He really enjoyed that!  I sent a note to my team yesterday that said this:

"

Team-

I had to say goodbye to Frank today.  He ruptured his eye over the weekend and we could have left it or had it removed.  I didn’t think it would be fair to put him through all of that(the cone of shame, more antibiotics etc).  So I made the decision to say see you later, little guy.  It breaks my heart and the kicker is, I truly do not believe he wanted to go!  It is the absolute worst thing to experience… to see the life leave such a sweet little vessel wrapped in fur.  

I rescued him and Ginger when True was two years old.  I am so glad I could give them a good home and a fun life.  Don’t believe what anyone says, the truth is that male pugs are the best dogs in the ENTIRE world.  They just are.  There will never be another Frank, AKA, Mr Beans, AKA Clams Casino, AKA The Beanus Flytrap. Oh Franklin!  Some day we shall meet again.

Thanks to all of you who have been so compassionate to me over the past months.  I’m devastated.  I appreciate your warmth and caring advice and consolation.

Xo

Heidi"

I logged into teams and saw that one of my dearest friends is sending flowers.  I wish I stayed out of Teams today!  I did log out.  My head hurts and my heart aches.  It is never ever, easy.  Waves of love and sadness wash over me.  I am without my heart.  But I know it will return.

The other dogs don't seem phased at all.  I think they may wonder where he is, but they are more concerned about breakfast.  Goddamn that fucking eyeball.  And in the words of those four legged bangers who carry on, Carpe Diem!

Auld Lang Syne

Oh my.  Time goes by at Mach I these days.  Fast forward to December 21, 2018.  Today is my husband's birthday.  I am also the mother to a 14 year old Snowflake.  True to his moniker, he loves snowboarding.

I think I have to re-commit to Ms. Mamma.  She's a hell of gal.  I miss her.  I am waxing melancholic, BIG TIME.  So shall we just get into it?

Time.  Time.  Time.  Time waits for no one.  I see my parents aging and I am going to hit a milestone year this February that I'd rather not say.  I am so emotional.  I have so many deep feelings.  I stayed home from work yesterday and sobbed for the better part of the morning watching a plethora of movies...  House of D, When Harry Met Sally, The Secret Window and the The Girl on the Train.

These were meant to be a diversion, but parts of them just made me feel worse.  Movies are not real life and I hate comparing mine to the beautiful happy endings of everything or thinking about the twisted individuals that walk among us.  I struggle every day.

The holidays are the worst.  Things have changed so much.    For every important holiday I have to make choices that I hate.  Spending time with my husband or my mom and dad.  Sometimes I am amazed at the things I google.  I never thought I'd be a "when your husband can't stand your family" type of goog-ler.

My parents are old and my only brother is kind of a narcissist who was busted with a fuck-ton of weed this past summer.  Formerly a nurse, he made the transition of going back to work for my parents in September 2017.  How convenient.  Since my mother has already lost one son, she takes any criticism of the other very hard and prefers not to hear it.  My husband cannot stand it.

I completely "get it."  At the same time, as a mother, I want to hold it all together.  I wouldn't want my brother's life for all the money in the world.  He can be a big dick.  He usually shows up in some state of intoxication.  I don't care.  These are my people and they are all I have and I want to spend time with ALL OF THEM, together.

Ruminating on this yesterday, reminded me of this song from some corner of my childhood memories.  Smooches.
-Ms. Mamma

LOVE IS THE ANSWER

Experiments with Boys

When last I left you, I was single and dear sweet Snowflake just survived the dreaded head lice attack.  I've always been the type to overreact  so I immediately grabbed everything in sight, stuffed it into garbage bags and threw it all in the trash forever.  Speaking of that little darling, he called me from school, just now.

We had an agreement.  Today was "Ride Your Bike to School" Day.  We agreed he would ride his bike to school, come home afterwards into the usual self imposed ipad isolation for a full hour and a half ie- no friends allowed over, let the dogs and chill until I get home. 

But of course he has to test me.

He wanted to go home, drop off his gear, let the dogs out and go lollygaggin' with his bros.  Fu-chi is in sixth grade and has funky bleached hair on top.  Timmy and U-Pang are inseparable.  The four of them hang out at  Werle Park.  That's pronounced Whirly, like swirly.  My worry is that all these fellas know mom is not at home.  That's scary.

Especially when you take into account that the other Friday night he performed an "experiment" in his room that involved a Q-Tip soaked in Axe, a lighter, a Mellow Yellow can and the aforementioned Axe aerosol as a blow torch. 

The idea was to make the paint on the can turn into "chrome."  It took the paint right off revealing the shiny aluminum body.  He did not burn the house down but it did leave the ENTIRE house smelling of ASS.  Because AXE smells like ASS to me.  It's that cheap, perfumey trying to cover up my stinky BO smell.  It gives me a headache.  Which reminds me of getting car sick from the smell of my mother's Nina Ricci L'Air Du Temps.  Yuck.

After that little experiment he brought it outside to "show" me what he was up to.  In total shock, I asked him what he was thinking.  Nothing apparently.  Yeah.

By this time it was probably 10:30 pm.  He followed up and redeemed himself by digging up and reclaiming his sandbox in preparation for a summer garden.  He and his friend Pascal worked hard by the light of his iPhone 5s balanced delicately on the wooden edge of box.  Meanwhile Hammer and I drank delicious craft beer by the light of the full moon.

Hammer.  Two years ago I married that man.  He's absolutely the coolest middle aged 12 year old I've ever met.  We're best friends.  My best friend is boy!  A boy.

Go Time

Sometimes the hardest thing to do after not writing for so long is to write.  I've been here since my last post, I start writing and then I think... this is pointless, what for?  I suppose it doesn't have to have a point and I think journaling is important so here goes....

It is one month before my wedding.  My last name is going to be Hammer.  Heidi Hammer.  It doesn't have to be, but I feel like it's an upgrade.  I actually thought I would never get married after seven years of being a sole, single parent to Snowflake.  I always thought if I did get married, I would keep my original last name.  Because that is who I have always been.  But I like the name Hammer.  I want to be an HH.

I feel like I should have been documenting this journey, but I got lazy.  Between work and motherhood and relationships, I let it slide.   Snowflake is going to be the Best Man at the wedding.  Unfortunately, he came home a few Mondays ago from school with a parent's worst nightmare, HEADLICE(GASP!) and we shaved his head.  It was his idea.  He went from adorable skater punk to looking like the fat kid in Stand By Me.  It's his chubby boob cheeks he still carries.

We carry on.

Everything we do here, our time is so short.  We hope we make the right decisions.  We fuck up.  As we get older we learn to accept people for who they are.

I chose Botox over extensions.

I *think* it was the way to go.

Love This

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.

© Max Ehrmann 1927

Verbal Diarrheas

The seminal post from which all things begin.  Who am I?  What is my deal?  Where am I going?  What the fuck am I doing?  What I'm doing is being a Lifestyle Photographer.  That entailed a title change and a hefty raise.  Hefty by midwestern bumblefuck standards, that is.  But I'll take it.

It also entailed other peeps despising me.  Talking shit about me.  Nevermind, Ms. Mamma keeps trudging along, making tracks and paying no mind to the bitches that would otherwise bring her down with their outright negativity.  Fuck them.   I will do continue to work hard and continue to wish you well even though you have nothing positive to say about me.

Ms. Mamma is an engaged 43 year woman child that at times does not know how to communicate.  She is living with her beloved until that blissful day, June 15 and wonders, is this the right thing to do?  I never WANTED to live with anyone UNTIL I was married, but here I am.  I wound up preggo a few years ago using this same type of logic.  It seems to get me everywhere I always thought I'd be but never seemed to get to in the "right" way.  I suppose there never is a right way.

So goes...

Planing a wedding in middle age is completely lackluster.  No one seems to be excited about anything except for my Maid of Honor.  Am I not supposed to be gushing about love and everything that comes with it?  I hate to be Debbie Downer, maybe if I were in my 20's things would be different.  I don't know.   It just seems lame to be planning a wedding that is supposed to take place in a few months and there is no excitement.

Except for a new pair of Fluevogs.  Yay.

I had a huge ordeal with my brother and "the woman he LOVES."  They were supposed to stand up in the wedding.  They broke up for a second time since being engaged in June of last year.  She sent me a text telling me not to count on her because they couldn't be together because of his little boy.   Via text, I told her to send the dress back(frowny face).  Good riddance, I thought.

This is the same couple that proclaims to be a gift unto us all with their universal love.  What a crock of shit.  His 'fiance' is ultimately the most negative person I have ever encountered in my life.  She calls my nephew a "belligerent hateful creature."  He's seven.  Seriously?  I think she's projecting.  BIG TIME.

Fast forward a few days later and my mother calls to muscle me from Jamaica to let them back into the wedding.  Because they are (surprise!!!) back together!  Oh joy!  And "what is everyone going to think if your ONLY brother isn't in the wedding party?!"  OMFG, I don't know mom, prolly nothing?

I can't wait until my brother makes some ridiculous out of place speech about his "lady" at my wedding if they're still together.  I can already picture it.  Can anyone clue me in to what I'm supposed to be feeling right now?  I've been on my own and independent for so long, I'm not sure.  Maybe that is fucked up.  I don't know.  

I deactivated my Facebook and I have to say it is kind of liberating.  I didn't tell anyone.  BUT, the wonder couple noticed and said, "What were you thinking?  We thought you defriended us!"  OMFG, for reals?  And this is why I quit.  And I'm old enough to know I can quit anything I want at anytime.   And I can start over.  I can still be whatever I want to be.  Except for a real rockstar.  I never wanted to be that anyway.  Hugs and Kisses.

And When You Least Expect It...

Ms Mamma writes a blog post.

It's been so long, that they've changed the interface of blogger and I'm out of whack with it. Seriously.

My day job is extremely low paying and yet I get to fly off to locations and photograph world class athletes. Last month I was gone twice and did some of the most amazing work I've ever done.

I'm fortunate to be in a position where my house will be mine in less than two years. What I'm getting at, is that if you truly love what you do, it doesn't matter how much you get paid. I took a slew of amazing photographs in Atlanta of the chap who was just given the Madden cover.

Today I saw what the cover is going to look like and I thought I would hurl. Apparently just because you HAVE a zillion great images, you SHOULD in fact, try and cram every one, reduced to microsize on the cover. Drats. Disgusto.

What I'm hoping for is that my work catches someone's eye and I am wooed away with an offer of real money so I can take care of Snowflake for reals. I keep on trucking. My goal is to create cool, high end work for a bargain basement price and build my portfolio until it is bursting at the seams with eye popping goodness.

And as much as I appreciate the opportunity I've been given, I would JUMP at the chance to move on to bigger, brighter and better things. In the words of that all knowing sage, "Suck it, dude!"