I think I’d make Grade A Coyote Meat, or at least Grade B…(Part 2 of 3)

US Coyote Assoc. downgrades me to Grade D meat

US Coyote Assoc. downgrades me to Grade D meat

 This is the continuation of a long rant just published.  It’s probably make more sense to read them in order, but shit, do what ever you want…it’s your world.  

Children of deceased parents inherited this Inn and store where I’m living.  They want to sell it.  But they run it like “inheriters” compared with entrepreneurs.  I like to pride myself an entrepreneur so I like to be read on the subject.  I feel fairly competent about business things. 

The arrangement I had with said children, (they’re in there early 50’s up to 60’s, but you will see shortly, they’re children still…) is that I would rent the apartment, work in the shop once a week and help increase occupancy from a measley 30% to where someone who actually had to buy the property could cover a mortgage or rent.  Unless they’re mommy and daddy are coming to buy them this property, they’re going to have to swing that expense and so occupancy must be raised. 

I designed a marketing plan but first things first, before you start saying to the world, “Hey, Look at Me!!” you want to make sure you’re showing your best you possible.  Housekeeping. 

 

Ha!  I almost said “we” lack proper signage.  The fucking children lack proper signage.   When your driving up from the local attraction, you have no idea what the building is until your right next and driving past said establishment.  If you aren’t looking hard left as you drive by, you won’t know what you passed.

The rooms haven’t had any money put into them since probably 1982.  Honest to god, there’s old upholstered couches in numerous rooms.  Gross, right?  When it comes to hotel rooms, I just assume people are going to have sex wherever they can.  So to me, a couch in a hotel room makes me a little queasy just writing about it. 

So I wrote an email to the woman with some aesthetic suggestions, everything with the only intention of helping.  Maybe the curtains should match, sheets and pillowcases are all varying prints, mismatched color schemes, etc.  Which is fine, if you’re charging a rate compared with what the consumer is getting.  Look at it this way: if you come with 2 people, they charge you $30 for the extra person in the room.  Soooo, they’re charging $30 for a skimpy cooked breakfast?  If I’m fucking paying $30 a person for breakfast, I want crab legs and bottomless fucking champagne.    Not scrambled eggs and potatoes. 

Anyways, her response comes back in large red font.  That should explain the content of her email.  I wrote back prior to hearing from her to apologize if I came off too harsh, as I bcc’d a friend who said I was a bit blunt. 

I just fucking say what I’m thinking, because at the end of the day in business, they call it efficiency.  If you don’t like my suggestion, we move on to things we can take action on.  That’s how business is performed but not how children play.  So anyways, I apologized profusely to her email of “I don’t like your taste at all” –Verbatim, because, she had any idea at this juncture what my taste consisted of since I was just unpacking boxes and moving in. 

After this email, the sister child who runs the store, became elusive about our plans to get her goods online and get her in social media since her target audience is the largest group of new users to facebook, grandma age.  So they can check in on little Johnny since little Johnny is probably on facebook.   I confront her, (efficiency) and she says she’s just not ready at this time.  I’ve only covered 1 shift and 2 mornings in the over 4 months that I’ve lived here.  Remember, supposed to be one day a week? 

 

I think I’d make Grade A Coyote Meat, or at least Grade B…(Part 1 of(already published)3)

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All right all ready buddy, we get it.
It’s grub time…

I thought I published Part 1, but,um, it looks like it was just still in draft form. I’m going to still run with I’m new to this shit. Ok…Sooooo Part 1 of my 3 part rant…

Stress is a killing factor for a bipolar person.  It can drive you so close to the edge, well, over it for some people.  It just weighs heavier on us compared with other people.  Not many people would decide the best way to deal with the speeding ticket you just got is to drag yourself out to the desert, slit your wrists and feed the wildlife. 

Then no one would have to deal with your cold, soulless body in what would surely be a traumatizing experience to said handlers.  I had it figured out how to feed the dog enough food so that she had to find the other food over time.  She’d probably just start eating it all up if I fed her enough to survive until someone noticed I wasn’t taking care of business. 

 

But I’m here, obviously, taking care of business.  I bought some pot and honestly, I feel like I don’t even know who that person was.  Seriously.  Like it was a dream or something.  But that’s what stress does.  I just melt into a pool of myself.  Useless.  Irrational.  And crying hysterically.  Truly a pathetic site. 

 

But it’s rare these days and that’s the beauty of it.   The past month, the doc has been changing my meds and I know it’s been a rough transition.  Serious withdraws like never before from the one, citalopram.  I’m still nibbling a small morsel off of a pill because I’m afraid to get sick again.  Only once before in the 13 or so years of my adult life have I wanted (and did) go to the ER for pain.  This time, it passed because there was no way I was driving myself 30 minutes to the hospital and it didn’t last too long.  But that was some rough shit. 

 

Years ago, pre-prescribed legal drugs, I was a mess all the time.  I had a lot of issues and would black out, oh I don’t know, maybe monthly, for a few years.  And just because I didn’t black out more than that doesn’t mean I wasn’t shit face wasted most of that month as well.  It’s the blacking out that scared me. 

 

At 110 lbs and cute, not being conscious is not good.  I’m lucky.  I’ve remained fairly unscathed.  No one’s unscathed.  That’s fucking life.  You’re going to get scathed over time, no two ways about it. 

 

Ahh, but why I’ve drifted there, couldn’t tell you.  I’ve got the “bipolar barfious” going on lately.  Sounds more official then, right?  If you add –ious to it…Again, I’ve been delighted to hear from others out there in blogville about the barfing condition that happens to all of us.  We often say wayyyyy more than we probably should have.  Shhhhit, I’m actually dealing with the consequences of my fucking mouth right now. 

 

I moved on to the grounds of an Inn.  I rent an apartment in the back and answer the phones in the evening for a discount on my rent.  It technically works out to like $0.80/ hr but I’m home anyways and the phone rings maybe once a night.  I also can go eat breakfast for free when there are guests and I get my sorry ass out of bed in time.  I go about once a week.  

 

It’s kind of like working because I grew up in the service industry.  It’s like a disease.  I can’t help but be hospitable.  “How was your stay?” “Where are you from?”  I just want to eat, shoot the shit with the cook and roll out, but it’s a disease.  I’ve got Server Disorder as well.  Damn, I’m fucked up. 

Chiggidity Check Yourself

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Fire is Natures Reboot. What’s Yours?

One of the best things I ever did for myself was admit I had addiction problems and accept that I have bipolar disorder.  I’m by no ways saying this is easy to do, just that it was immensely helpful.  Reality had always been something I avoided at all costs…including my soul, at times. 

Honestly, it seems everyone is ducking out of reality these days.  TV is a serious reality avoider.  Plus, your even watching non-reality since science has proven that when you observe something, that thing changes.  It becomes aware of the observer and changes it’s behavior.  Be it a dog or a crazy Jersey lady or an amoeba, they all change. 

So I’d imagine the same things happens with our issues.  When we look at them, they, by law, will change.  See?  We can already put a dent in whatever we’re avoiding just by looking at it. 

Admitting I had issues needing to be dealt with enabled me to take a huge leap forward.  Cause when you admit it, can’t deny it anymore and you now have to take action.  Or I guess you don’t.  We always have the option to continue on the bumpy road we have chosen for ourselves. 

What?  I didn’t choose this shit hole of a life, you may say.  Wellllll, I think you did.  I was seeing a hypnotherapist for a little while.  You may have realized by now, my fellow Blogvillians, I’ll try anything to grow better.   During one of the sessions we went into my past lives.  See, in a Polarity treatment(again, another modality for healing) I realized I had intense grief issues. 

So we went back in time to figure it out.  I lost a husband, Paul, and I felt guilt over not warning him of the impending danger.  I held a little ceremony in the hills of New Mexico and honored him.  He never blamed me, he said.   Wow.  Way off track.   I whizzed thru another uneventful lonely life of my past.  And then my most recent one. 

The life before this one I’m in, I was a mess.  Actually OD’d.  So when I was born, I carried that energy over.  I was born in pain with colic and poorly designed inner ears, leading to what used to plague me my entire life, ear infections.  Not to mention drug addictions and bipolar disorder.  And so I carried that last life forward for most of my life. 

But then I saw a little glimmer of hope, somewhere…maybe in some child’s eye.  We control our destiny.  We determine our fate.  And so I set sail for the land of Dapperdom.  I paddled thru the seas with ease.  Used to always have storms, but these days, these days heading to Dapperdom…boat doesn’t rock too much anymore.   

So be real, what are you avoiding?  Change it right now by confronting it.  Tackle it!  Take it down!  Or perhaps…just admit.

Be Dapper Blogvillians.  

-B. Wright

 

Escape Egocentrism for the Blissful Land of Cosmocentrism…Today.

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Addiction keeps a soul in an egocentric mentality.  An addict has only one thing higher than self…our drug/food/person-‘fill in the blank’ of choice.   Then comes self, making use of said “higher good”, of course.  And next, everyone and everything else in varying degrees for each individual.  But numero uno will always be the drug. 

 

I’m just going to use drug because that’s what I relate to.  I was trying to explain it to a friend how as soon as I wake up there’s this little voice in my head, “Why don’t you smoke?  Let’s smoke!  Pack a bowl, come on!  Let’s go!” 

 

I know, Pot isn’t really addictive and why I’ve been recently struggling to quit has been beyond me.   I’ve quit smoking pot probably 10, 20, shit, I have no idea honestly how many times.  I’ve done it numerous times.  Same with cigarettes but I think I’m finally done with those. 

 

I got to thinking that our body is just a shell for our soul.  Some of the shells out there are awesome, some suck, most are somewhere in between.  I think I got pretty lucky with my shell and I’ve made a conscious effort to improve the infinite imperfections I have, one by one. 

 

But to really get the most of my shell, smoking cigarettes didn’t make sense.  So I struggle and cough when I try to run and play?  Gross.  And I stink?  Grosser.  And if I could see what was being done to the inside of me from cigarettes? 

 

Well, logically it just didn’t make sense to me to continue cigarettes.  To be honest, when I drink, I will smoke occasionally.  But I drink like 5 times a year.  I’m “allergic” to booze.  I’m fine.  I’m fine.  I’m fine.  Then wham!  Buck wild B comes out and shortly after the blackout does as well. 

 

I have to be a few drinks back for smoking a “square” not to be gross to me.  Used to be by the time I was slurping the bottom of drink one, I needed a smoke. 

 

Look at that word…“needed”.  That’s addiction.  Need something that really is not good for you.  Does not truly benefit you and in fact, is doing harm to you.  We need air.  We need water.  We need…a cigarette?    

 

8 years ago I quit cocaine.  8 fucking years ago.  I can’t believe it’s been that long.  3 years ago I did it 3 times.  3rd time saw some of that ugly behavior coke brings out of people early in the morning and decided I didn’t want to run around with that drama again.  Been there.  Done that.  Never again. 

 

So now, I’ve been just smoking pot.  The doc said I was smoking because the meds were off.  Now I’m supposed to be “properly” medicated but I still reach for the pot.  I have been a huge, huge lover of marijuana for…well, 19 years.  That’s insane for me to write that because it sure as hell doesn’t seem like a fifth of a century.  Let me take a puff and contemplate this…

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Well, it is what is.  I feel like some strains make me sluggish.  Some by the end of the day, I’m so zonked I just want to stare at the TV, or worse, pass out and sleep for some long ass time.  I’ve been sleeping more lately.  C’est la vie.  What goes up must come down. 

 

I have every intention of continuing to be a part of Blogville, I just fear as the darkness comes back, I’ll be cloaked with the heavy force.  The tiring force.  Those not blessed with bipolar or have never truly experienced depression can’t truly empathize. 

 

Where your body feels 900 lbs.  It aches all over.  Everything is a struggle.  You’re so exhausted…from walking across the room.  You just woke up from a 10 hour sleep and you could sleep for another 10 hours. 

 

I haven’t been there in a while.  Kudos to the meds, and I think it’s important to do, I’ma give myself some kudos too.  I’ve worked hard over the past…well, 8 years about.    

 

Self betterment is not an overnight fix.  It’s a path.  And it’s not a specific trodden way…many routes lead to the same destination.  No two paths can ever be the same, for each has it’s own unique detours and scenic routes.  But though our travels may differ, we all quest for the same thing.  Our true highest good…pure, blissful energy, pulsing as we’ve evolved to a cosmicentric point of view. 

 

And at that level…there’s no room for egocentric people.  Through evolution, they can not exist anymore in this new world order.   Addictions must be burnt down like a raging forest fire leaving only smoldery ashes.  And from that charred earth, we will grow so strong and so healthy, brimming with life force and infinite possibilities. 

 

Go Be Dapper Blogvillians. 

 

-B.Wright

Lockdown has been Instituted on my Wallet

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I’ve run out of pot.  That doesn’t actually mean I’m not still smoking.  Who knew you can get a hit from the other orifices of a bowl?  I never thought about it, and it’s what I’ll do today.  Then crawl around and look for some scrapplings.  Then scrape some and smoke that.  How else do you stop smoking?  And then.  And then it’s the tell tale time.  Do I call the dealer?  Or do I go and meditate?  Go create art? Go and do something dapper? 

 

I’ve also instituted a spending lockdown.  I fired one crazy client and unexpectedly lost another client in the same month.  Then the holidays came, I didn’t pursue work so aggressively.  I got a new client recently, he called me!  How cool is that that people call you to work for them?  Sorry, that may be the norm to you but I’m used to being a useless dust speck, contributing nada to the world.  I should be able to send out some invoices in a couple weeks. 

 

But for now?  I’m on lockdown.  Spending lockdown.  I want some cereal, but I’m being too lazy to bake my granola.  Now I’m Ms. Fancy Pants, baking and shit!  Well, I guess I would be if I actually did make it, and not just push around the carton of oats I left out as a reminder. 

 

Now I feel accountable, to Blogville, to you guys.  Honestly, I’m not really held accountable too much.  I live alone with my dog, I work from home mostly, I have clients, not bosses.  My family is thousands of miles away, for a reason.  It’s hard working the dapper program alone.  And that’s why I’m so grateful to be a card carrying member of Blogville.  Seriously.  Check my wallet.  Proud resident Blogvillian, I yam! 

 

I pledge a spending lockdown in honor of being Dapper and being the best I can, owing nothing to Mr. Visa and Mrs. Mastercard, and having paid off the ridiculously expensive piece of paper framed in the office.   Lockdown.  For 30 days.  I’ll have to confess here if I broke down and bought a coffee or any other gaping hole I have in my budget. 

 

Who’s down?  We could lockdown together!  Who doesn’t need a lockdown post holidays?   I’ll start today, even though I haven’t bought anything over the past 4 days.  So till 2/3/13.  I think that’s 30 days. 

 

I’m already tired of this leftover mashed potato hash thing I made.  I may or may not have eaten it for the past couple days.  I kind of don’t have much by way of groceries, since I knew I was leaving for 8 days and now I’ve been home a few days.  But there’s still food.  I share this because I may break down and buy some food.  Point being food, not the grocery store.  The way I shop, my buggy always looks like I feed an army at home.  Such great intentions.  And then I just push the healthy stuff around to get to my whipped cream cheese frosting and it all gets gross and moldy. 

 

Such a waste, I know.  I’m working on it.  I am.  So if you’re down to lockdown with me, comment below.  We can rally each other on and cheer loudly when you were able to step out of line for that coffee and get back going wherever your going. 

 

I do this every couple months, after a spending spree.  I reevaluate the damage I did, return what I can return, accept what I can’t.  Then lay out the numbers on the dry erase and start chugging away.  I call it the Abundance Paradigm, not the get out of debt paradigm.  Abundance.  Have to think Abundance. 

 

Happy Lockdown!  Mazel Tov!  Lock, Lock, lock…lockdown is ON…

 

B. Wright