Incoherently Yours

I understand the whole, ‘I learned a lot from my mistakes.’, or “It was a life experience.”, or “I really got something out of it.”, or “God brought a lot of good out of a bad circumstance.’, but I really do not understand the whole “I have no regrets! I regret none of my actions!” mantra.

            Yes, I understand that some things, or people, (ie: unexpected pregnancies) would not be around if certain choices weren’t made. I completely and absolutely agree that NO child should EVER be called a mistake. Some children are a classic example of “God brought good out of a bad situation.”

            I don’t understand people that refuse to use the word mistake. They say things like, “different paths”, or “they had a tough time”.

            I’m not perfect. I make mistakes all the time. I regret past actions. I regret when I hurt someone. I regret when I do something that creates problems.

            I’m also thankful that I believe in a God that can make good come out of bad. I am thankful that I have the ability to learn from mistakes, and that I don’t have to wallow in my mistakes and never gain any insight from them.

            But that doesn’t mean that mistakes don’t exist. It just means that because we are imperfect, God made a way for us to learn from our mistakes.

            That doesn’t mean that it’s impossible for us to learn something without making a mistake. That doesn’t mean that my life wouldn’t be full and amazing if I hadn’t ever made a mistake.

            It just bothers me when people look back on “mistakes” (though they don’t call them that) and glorify them, and give them all the credit for “where they are today.”

            Uhm, no, you are where you are today because the grace of God gave you the ability to walk away from mistakes with something other than pain and hurt.

            I do think that we should live our lives in such a way as to have as few regrets as possible. A carpe diem sort of approach, if you will.

            I just think it sounds arrogant and immature to say, “I regret nothing.”

            Am I crazy?

I’m in a better mood today.

My house is still bothering me, but I’m tired of being bothered by it, so I’m ignoring it and concentrating on things that I rather like, such as….

BURGERS! I love them. At home, at a restaurant, they are hard to mess up.

Eating birdseed. Well, ok, not actual bird seed, but I bought some sunflower seeds and pumpkin seeds, and craisins, and dates and granola, and y’know what? I think I could make it as a bird. Without wings of course. So I guess that would make me a penguin? But no, I hate seafood so that wouldn’t work….

Biggest Loser. I love this show. And I hate Melissa.

The fact that I sent in part of my manuscript to be critiqued by professionals at the Christian Writer’s Guild. Of course, that also means that I basically paid someone to make me cry, but that’s besides the point.

I love the fact that when I told my Mom that I was going to finish my book, get it published, that I had entered a book writing contest, and joined a Writer’s Guild and would be taking classes in the spring – she totally teared up and was so thrilled for me.

Tsubasa. My little sister is OBSESSED with Japanese culture, which I DO NOT understand the craze. One of my good friends also likes reading manga and watching anime and such and such. And I usually give Christy a pretty hard time about it, so while she was away on vacation with my parents I decided I would surprise her and read one of the more popular manga – Tsubasa, so that I could chat with her about something that she was interested in. And unfortunately, I LIKE IT. But I am not reading ANY OTHER manga. EVER! I’m not!

I am losing my mind.

This house is ruining me.

 It’s turning me into a raving lunatic, not to mention psychotic bitch. 

 Renovating for three years… three years of stuff being everywhere, of not being able to clean, of piles being moved from here to there, of never finding anything, or losing everything in the sea of chaos. I have been using every ounce of my energy to not pack my bags and leave this mess behind me. And so I have no patience to deal with every day facts of life, like stubbing my toe, or not being able to open a jar, or tiffs with my husband.

I have complete meltdowns about 5 times a day. I cannot live like this.

He says he’s trying, that he’s doing all that he can do. Part of me knows that, but the other part of my doesn’t give a shit.

He says that his priority right now has to be the cattle, or else we won’t be able to pay bills and we’ll lose the house.

I say, if you don’t finish this fucking house, there’s not going to be anybody here to live in it.

I love my dog. He is definitely my baby. Yes, I am one of those weird people that treat their pets like children. I can’t help it. I don’t have a baby right now, so all my vibes go directly towards Porky.

We are calving right now. Porky is in his glory. He has it in his head that he is a cattle dog, and does not seemed phased at all by the fact that he’s a grand 9” off the ground. The calves are his best friends, and all he wants to do is play with them, lick them, and bark at them. If they would just ignore him, he probably would lose interest, but there are a few that like to chase him around the pen (whether they are “playing” is a matter of opinion, but either way, Porky is thrilled.)

When it’s time to go outside, he waits by the door and I grab his sweater and he puts his head through the hole and lifts his front legs so that they go into the “arms”. And he isn’t dumb, when the big cows come into the pens he hightails it to the end of the barn and waits there until they are safely locked away.

Everybody loves Porky. At least he thinks so. You could come over to my house and be visiting and all the sudden look down, and lo and behold, there are ten of Porky’s toys at your feet. Why? Well, you see, it would be ridiculous to think that someone would actually not want to play with Porky, he simply must be bringing the wrong toy. And so he goes through his arsenal, sure that the next toy he brings will be the one that you want.

 He’s potty trained, he doesn’t shed, he’s playful but he doesn’t bite, he’s cuddly and warm, but not lazy. He’s perfect. I love my wiener dog. And in honor of him, I shall post a baby picture!

Oh Monday, how I despise you. I had to haul six tubs of frozen beef down into my parents basement, down the steps of death, because they are out gallivanting around the states.

As I was driving home I was surrounded by such a deep fog I almost drove off the road because I didn’t realize that the road was curving. So much fun.

Oh, and I lost my cell phone. Rawr!

On the other hand, I did get to see my two super cute nieces today. I went to see four month old Lily, and then headed over to see 19 month old Parker. I swear they are the two cutest kids in the world.

On the baby update, I found out that my hormone level is a very low 1.4. Exactly how low is that you ask? Well… my doctor would like my number to be at….30. 30?! Yes, 30. Wonderful.

But my baby-for-now, Porky is possibly the cutest dog known to mankind. We are calving right now, and he thinks that the babies are odd looking uncoordinated dogs, and he wants to play with him. So long as they don’t turn him into a porky-pancake, it’s fine with me.

It’s amazing how one thing can change the way you think and feel in a split second.

 For months, my relationship with my best friend had been weighing on my mind. I was sad, and upset, and too proud to call, and too tired to try. I was thinking that we had just run our course, that we had a good run, and that it was over.

 And then I got a message from her, and she was hurting and broken.

 Suddenly, in that instant, nothing mattered anymore. I called her and told her I was packing my bag and I’d be there in two hours. As it turns out another friend was watching out for her that night, so I went in the next day and spent the afternoon with her. We went out for lunch, and listened and talked, and you know what? No matter what, she is still my best friend. And when she needs me, I’m there, no questions.

Sometimes the bonds of friendship overcome the lack of communication.

And I’m forever grateful.

You’d think I would eventually get sick of being an emotional wreck. As it turns out, I don’t. I simply excel at it.

I suppose some updates are in order.

I am not pregnant. I was late with my period this month, and the doctor sent me for bloodwork to see if I was pregnant, but no, I’m not. He got me to ovulate once, in November, but no luck since then. The drugs are now doubled. I have to wait for my period in order to take the drugs, and my cycle has dragged on for like…47 days… today I think something is starting, I hope so, because I need the drugs in order to ovulate, and I can’t take the drugs until I get my period. Ugh.

My house is not finished. Shock. Although it was promised that it would get done by Christmas. Perhaps I should have gotten him to specify the year…

It also feels like I have lost my best friend. I mean that literally, actually. It’s been coming on for awhile now. We don’t call each other, we don’t make dates to see each other. She told me that couple dates won’t work out anymore, and I guess it just feels like… it’s fading. It’s been over ten years. Nikki has been my best friend for ten years. We have maintained our friendship through different cities and different provinces. It seems our friendship can’t make it through marriage. It sucks. I miss her. I miss us. And I was watching Sex and the City, the movie, and just all the best friends forever, and the holding on through thick and thin and all the being there and taking care of each other made me burst into tears and made me write what suspiciously resembled one of those drunk emails that someone sends to their significant other after a break up.

Wonderful.

I am not a big cusser. I was brought up in a pretty strict Christian home where absolutely no swearing was tolerated. I attended a private Christian school for the majority of my schooling, and home-schooled the rest, so I didn’t even really get the chance to pick up on words from friends. We got in trouble for saying “That sucks.” And if I called my brother a “butt-hole”, I got in so much trouble I wished I had just said ass instead.

Well now I am all grown up and out in the real world. I have friends that swear. Heck, I swear. (ok, not just now, but I do sometimes) Not a lot, but there are some instances that just need a really good cuss word to fully convey what you are trying to say. Now that I live on a farm I have realized that shit is not a swear word. Well, it can be, I suppose, when used as an exclamation, but when used in every day farming lingo, it isn’t a swear. It really is just referring to shit. When I first came out here I was a little surprised to hear church-goers and deacons and what-not break out with the “hauling shit”, “chicken shit”, “smells like shit” jargon. I now completely agree. Shit isn’t a swear word when you’re on a farm. It’s a fact of life.

I could almost say the same goes for “F”. It’s a word I rarely use. It used to really offend me, but it doesn’t anymore. It is, after all, just a word. I’ve learned to listen around it. If ever I use it, I am either ridiculously pissed, or I’m having sex. (TMI? Muhahaha!) (And there again, not really a swear. I’m using the word in it’s literal meaning am I not?) I guess the only annoying part of that word is the over-use of it. Every second word, really? Did the world suddenly run out of adjectives? Unfortunately, when it is said multiple times in a five minute conversation, the person constantly saying it sounds like an uneducated rebellious teenager trying to be cool. In my opinion, anyways.

However, I must say, sometimes a good “What the hell??”, “Dammit”, “Shit!” (obviously in it’s swear form, haha!) or “What a bitch”, “Take that, bitches!” is just really the only way to convey what I feel.

You would probably never hear me use swear words that have anything to do with God, or Jesus, or Jesus Christ… or even the mother of God (even though I’m not Catholic). I am, after all, a Christian, and I’d rather not take the name of my God in vain, since y’know, He kinda told me not to and all.

And on that note, why just Christianity? Why don’t we say “Oh my Buddha!”?