One of my guilty pleasures is day-time talk shows. I don't know why, considering they usually end up pissing me off. Yet here I find myself frustrated with The Talk. Today's segment about Tom Cruise frustrated me. I'm not mad or anything. I am; however, baffled. I fail to see how Mrs. Sharon Osborne was able to make a comparison between Tom Cruise leaving his child to film two movies over seas, to parents serving in the military and being deployed. Let's try to talk through this. Yes, both spend time a way from their child(ren). Yes, both worked hard (respectively) to attain their respective careers. When men and women sign up for the military, they know there is a chance of being deployed.
The decision to join or not is where their ability to choose ends for military families though. When they receive their orders, they can't "turn down the job." They do not have that "choice." Tom could have turned down one or both jobs. I am not saying he should have, just that he had the "choice'' to do so. If it were SUCH a big deal that Tom saw his child, he had more "wiggle room" to see her. He was not in a war zone. A visit could have potentially been arranged. His child would not have been in immediate harm. A deployed military mom or dad has no way to see their children, unless they receive R&R (two weeks tops). Children can't be flown to a war zone to spend time with mom and dad.
I am not saying Tom is in the wrong. How he chooses to live and raise his child is his choice and one of our business. I also, was not meaning any negative jabs toward military parents. Being the product of a soldier and girlfriend of a United States Air Force veteran, I would never consciously insult our min and women in uniform. This was merely, a girl pointing out why Mrs. Osborne's comparison was faulty. What would you add? Do you feel like this was a faulty comparison? Why, or why not?
In an effort to liven things up around here, I have decided to participate in one of the many blogging challenges floating around the wonderful world of Pinterest. Today's assignment is, "20 facts about me." Here we go!
1. I love squirrels!
2. Melman is the best sock monkey ever!
3. The only foot ball team worth cheering for, is the 49ers. Niners nation, baby!
4.The only baseball team worth my time is the SF Giants.
5. I have PTSD.
6. I am working through the 12 steps of al-anon.
7.I cry when watching fireworks.
8.I cry when I hear the national anthem.
9.I am obnoxiously patriotic.
10. I am a barista and love it.
11. I can make hearts in lattes.
12. I am currently reading "The Hunger Games," and loving the books.
13. My cat's name is Captain Curious Boy Georgie Porgie Harrison Takei McNugget of the Jungle.
14. I think that my boyfriend is "the one."
15. I am a sister of Sigma Alpha Iota, International Music Fraternity for Women.
16.I am in a long distance relationship (but not for long).
17. I would rather wear things from the Halloween section as normal clothes.
18. I find water yummy.
19. I am a slight beach bum.
20.I am a Private (E-2) in the Virginia Defense Force.
I realize that some of this is kind of random; however, that was kind of hard to come up with. I hope this gives you all a better sense of who you're interacting with!
Have you ever been on a road trip? You're driving along, enjoying the scenery, listening to your favorite song on the radio, then WABAAM, road kill. It fills your car with an unmistakable odor and you can't escape. You wish you had seen it before hand, so you could hold your breath. It lingers for miles past the point of smell-pact. Trust me. I know you know the smell. I have been avoiding a lovely smelling rodent on Route 60 for the last week!
Relationships are the same way. When we start out, all we see are the happy, fun, times. We get blinded by how we believe our relationship with a person should be, and ignore the awful odor seeping from their pores. For some people, it is a gradual realization. For others, they just always knew.When I say relationships, I do not mean necessarily romantic ones. For me, my road kill relationships were various family members. When I let them go, it wasn't to be vindictive. It wasn't for any reason other than I needed inner peace, and I couldn't handle it anymore. My life needed some serious air freshener to remove the lingerings of my journey's road kill.
If being around a person makes you feel bad about yourself, if hearing about them makes your skin twitch, if the mere thought of them makes your skin boil, you might have road kill relationships. It's hard to maintain these relationships and it isn't healthy. I have went to extremes to get away from mine. I formed a new Facebook and preemptively blocked everyone who caused more stress than pleasure. I changed my number. I moved. It may seem extreme, but for me? For me it was a necessity. I couldn't live my life being compared to others anymore. I couldn't continue to be sucked in to the immature drama any more. I finally woke up and decided to love my life for me.
Even though I dropped these relationships, I do not wish anything bad to those people I have left behind. When you leave these relationships, the key to happiness is leaving the negativity these relationships caused, behind as well. Don't let the negativity of your past determine your future. Don't give your past that control, ever. Leaving the negativity with the relationship frees you to build and enjoy a life for you.
What are "road kill" relationships in your life? How do you plan to tackle them? Do you have suggestions for others, or would you like suggestions? Feel free to leave a comment!
I met my step-dad over fourteen years ago. My mom and he were set up on a blind date. It was mom's first date after leaving my birth-father. He took mom out for her birthday, and mom being the-ahem- bull-headed woman she is, said he could only take her out if he took me too. He agreed and we ended up going to a sea-food restaurant. then putt-putt. Though i absolutely beasted at putt-putt with the highest score of the night, I don't think I spoke two words to him on the whole date.
He ordered cheese sticks at the restaurant, so of course I liked him. However, I still would not talk to him. All questions and comments from this chick-a-dee were sent strictly through my mother. It would have been hard to talk to the poor man-even if I wanted to- since I wouldn't even look at him! I sat with my back to him the whole meal. Mom had to remind me of his name when we went to the bathroom one time. His name brought about a hardcore giggle fit.
From that date on, he made sure I was included in everything possible and he made sure he was there for all events in my life possible. He never missed a cheering event if he did not have to work and he never missed a band performance in seven years unless he was working or ill. I can't begin to imagine to obscene amounts of band candy the man bought over the years. He watched me attempt a pageant. He dealt with my teenage drama and all of the crazy that went with it. He was there for all of the things that were important to me and supported me the best he could. He even tried to make up for the broken promises and down right hurtful things my birth-father managed to say and do.
Simply, he was and is my dad and he didn't have to be. It is not lost on me that he had a choice. That, at any point in the last 14 years, he could have thrown his hands up and walked away. I wasn't his responsibility, but he made me one. He could have chosen the route my birth-father did, but he didn't. Instead, he chose to love and encourage me in life. When you get down to it, isn't that what a dad is? I mean, this man, who started out as a complete stranger, who I attmitedly put through hell at times, gave me something DNA couldn't. My dad.
If I had to chose a specific time that "Pink with Purple Polka Dots" began, well, I couldn't. I can't. The phrase came about way back in the nineties, back when blogging didn't exist. It was a different time. Common folk didn't have access to the internet. Kids knew more ways to turn a pile of leaves and a stick into endless hours of fun, than there were video games in existence. I know. I know. Some young whipper snapper is paling reading this and thinking, "You're old."
First, I was a baby during these dark times. I was barely out the crib. My mom still wiped my behind. So, I am not THAT old. I am a mere twenty-two, currently. So... take it back! Secondly, I was cute. So it doesn't matter.
Where was I? Oh. Yes. It was the early nineties. I was a toddler and my mother had decided she wanted to paint the outside of our house. Her and my birth-father couldn't agree on a color. Their brilliant solution was to ask me what colors I wanted to paint it. I was so happy when they asked me. It was a big girl decision and they asked me.
I quickly made them regret this decision when I replied, "pink with purple polka dots." My mother laughed at me and my birth-father groaned. In my defense, I was like, what, four? What did they really expect? I mean really.
In the end, they settled on cream colored siding and forest green trim. I think the neighbor's appreciated the choice. Even though they didn't use my colors, it has stuck with me my whole life. When coming up with a name for this blog, every thing felt forced. Then I remembered, pink with purple polka dots. To me, it's a throw back to a happier time, a simpler time, my time.