Sunday, October 16, 2016

One Book; One Promise; One Review

I'm the worst.

100% without a doubt, the absolute worst person ever.

I promised a friend a book review.  You all know me by now, all 11 of you.  You know I love to read, but I suck at writing.  I'm the worst.

Why I would promise to write a review is beyond me. But I did, and I need to do it.  Because I promised.  And he deserves it, he is an amazing writer and his books (yes, books) are fucking phenomenal.

I read "Romantic as Hell" in 3 days - between work, school and Emily's extracurricular activities I couldn't sit and read as often as I wanted; I've also been incredibly lazy with my writing - but had hoped this book would give me the nudge I needed to start again.  Instead, it just made me feel even more inadequate because Rodney is such a fucking artist.  Trust.  Fucking.Artist.

Don't believe me?  Here's a snippet of what you're missing:

I. Well, That Was Embarrassing 
     The stage set changes to the bedroom of a teenage boy.
    The wallpaper has a metallic sheen to it, reflecting dark green carpeting. A large waterbed sits against a wall, and tacked to the wall above the bed are two posters: The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders and Christie Brinkley. Both posters look worn and crinkly. We will not stop to consider why right now because the answer is probably disturbing. A dresser with a large mirror sits against the opposite wall, adorned with a blue Tiffany lamp.
     This looks to be one of the worst-designed rooms of all time and should be on a television-design show that has the words "Disasters" or "Rescue" in the title.

I've followed Rodney and his writing for a while, so I was prepared for his sophomoric "potty" humor.  I'm also married to a man, and mother to a 9 year old daughter (don't let her gender fool you, she likes fart jokes as much as any boy.)

An incredibly hilarious guide of what to do and not to do - this one doesn't fall short, and judging by Rodney's own admission you need to read this book. As a matter of fact, he says you need to go out and get this book because:
"Worst Case: You laugh.
Better Case: You laugh AND get some tips that strengthen your position
in the dating community or in your own relationship.
Best Possible Case Ever: You laugh AND get some good tips AND
make your significant other's friends think you're amazing, thus
increasing the odds of a threesome."

In addition to this masterpiece, because I'm an asshole and felt incredibly terrible for NOT following through with my promise - I bought his previous two books Perhaps I've Said Too Much (a Great Big Book of Messing with People) and Things Go Wrong For Me (when life hands you lemons, add vodka)... I was not disappointed; and if you check any of them out - you won't be either.

Sorry it took me so long, Rodney.  Forgive me.  I'm an asshole.

Rodney graciously sent me an e-copy of Romantic as Hell in exchange for this review.

Disclosure of Material Connection: This is a “sponsored post.” The company who sponsored it compensated me via a cash payment, gift, or something else of value to write it. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. Also, Edwin the bunny got to Pablo Escobar again today, so he is slowly deflating again. I know, it’s tragic. If you are actually reading this, I am largely impressed.  I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Friday, May 20, 2016

Why do we do that?

I've noticed something recently.  Nothing major, just a habit I can't seem to figure out.
It's not a malicious habit, or one that I'm ashamed of really.  Just a habit that seems to have been there for as long as I can remember, that I'd prefer to break.

I've also noticed that it's the same habit that a lot of other people have; not just women, though it's mainly women, men do it too.

Tell me if you've seen what I've seen or if you've done, what I've done.   Ready?

When someone pays you a compliment, what do you do?

Think about it.  Think back to the last time someone said something nice to you, or about you.  What did you do?  What did you say?  What look came across your face?

Was it something like this?

Person: OMG Those sunglasses are SO CUTE!! 

Or is it more like this?

Person: HEY!  You look amazing today!!!
You: Me? Nah, I have wrinkles, barely slept, I need to lose like 9million pounds, my hair is a mess, I'm exhausted, my eyebrows need waxing and don't even get me started on this break out - Helllooo I'm not 15 years old anymore what's with the pizza face ....... 


Why do we do this?  Why is this what we automatically think?  Justify with cost, or excuses as to why WE think we look like crap.  Why?

What is so hard about accepting a compliment and enjoying a moment of good?  Why are we so hell bent on tearing ourselves down?  Why are we so hell bent on explaining what we have with a price?  Instead of just accepting the good?

I'm not sure when I started doing this, or why, all I know is this happens every time someone says something nice to or about me.  Every.Single.Time. I have an excuse as to why I think I look terrible, or a this old thing, or a price.  I know my friends and family don't care about what I spent, or why I think I look like hammered shit.  I know they mean it.  They're not just being polite.  They're not just making conversation. 

It happened to me today, actually!  I just bought myself a really cute tank top.  I saw it on the clearance rank at Kohl's, snagged it, carried it around and then ultimately put it down - convincing myself I didn't need it and I'd never have a reason to wear it (it's a little flashy for my office) so I put it down and walked away.  (I do this a lot)

Later on that same night, I went back for something else and decided to look for it; thinking if it was there, I'd buy it - the Universe would be telling me I had to have it and so I should have it.  Lo and behold, it was there where I left it.  Just as cute and flashy as I'd thought it was the first time, and it had to be mine.

I bought it.  I love it.  I hung it in the closet, and left it there for 3 weeks.  Three Weeks.  Not because of the weather, though it has been colder than normal.  Nope, because I didn't think it was an appropriate shirt to wear to work.  It's not revealing, it's not trashy, it's just sequin-y and cute.  (I'll try to put in a picture, but .. don't hold your breath; alright, hang on)
FUCKING CUTE RIGHT?  It's two layers, those are WHITE SEQUINS!
#NoFilter #IWokeUpLikeThis

This morning I said Fuck It and I wore it to work.  My co-worker greeted me (as she always does) and then she added this:

Co-Worker: That shirt is so cute!  It looks amazing on you!
Me: This? Oh, it was $7 clearance at Kohl's!

Which lead to more mindless chatter before we started our day.

After about an hour I actually had the thought that lead to this blog (after I begged for a push and some *ahem* threats from some amazing friends, I started writing) and I actually walked back over to her desk and started talking to her again.

I started with an apology, and then explained why I was apologizing - I'll repeat it here, to the best of my recollection.

Me: I just wanted to say I'm sorry.  When you complimented my shirt earlier, I immediately launched into a diatribe about where I got it, and how much it cost.  I should have just said Thank You and moved on.  I shouldn't have done that.  I'm sorry and Thank You.

She was completely taken aback and accepted my apology, and followed up with a comment that was similar to mine; that she'd never thought about it before but is fairly certain she does the same thing.  WHY!!!  WHY DO WE DO THIS!??

Why can't we just accept the compliment, say thank you, and let the conversation develop organically? If she asks where I got it, then I'd have the opening to tell her where to (possibly) find one in her size, should she decide to look.  Should she ask how much, I could tell her.  But to just lead with it, instead of accepting it and saying thank you - I don't get it.  More, I don't know how to fix it.

Quick, Tell me I'm not alone!  

Tell me I'm not the only one who ignores compliments and tries to explain or justify everything; especially when it's not necessary or when it serves to cut through whatever good feelings I'm having about myself.

Monday, August 3, 2015

Packing Up the Car and Going.

This weekend, I had the pleasure and the opportunity to re-connect in person with some of my most favorite lady-bloggers.

Most of us live so far apart, some of us, though, live so close together.  This means to me - there never seems to be an occassion where we can actually come together, where we can make gatherings happen, outside of BlogU or BlogHer or book signings (AHEM, ladies, I'm waiting!!!). 

Since the summer is rapidly coming to a close so any opportunity is defintely welcomed, and also means a gathering is something that I will do everything in my power to make it happen.

Drive almost 3 hours to the border of New Hampshire and Vermont to swim in a lake and spend 2 hours with a handful of the most talented writers and kindest people I've ever had the pleasure and honor to call friends?  Pack up the car, we're going.  I don't care if we sit in traffic, if we miss lunch, if we end up with sand in places we shouldn't have sand, if we could have just repacked the cooler and gone to the boat 15 minutes away.  Pack Up The Car.   We're Going.

The reward for packing up the car and going was the hugs and squeals and smiles and chatting.  The Reward for Packing Up the Car and Going was my smiling and my hugging and my squealing.  The Reward for Packing Up the Car and Going was Emily coming away with new friends; and my husband seeing me smiling and hugging and squealing.  Because truly, isn't that the reward we all want?  The smiling, the hugging, the squealing?  The catching up with friends, the memories of our kids playing in the water and splashing, digging sand holes for "sick fish and dead fish" hospitals.

The reward for packing up the car and going .. is worth so much more than the traffic and frustration and hot sand and running late and being uncomfortable with people you don't know.  Packing Up The Car and Going?  Totally worth it.

Her smile?  Totally worth it.

My Smile?  Totally worth it.

Ordering an extra dessert that you don't really like so your husband who drove nearly three hours across the state to swim in a lake with people he doesn't know doesn't have to choose between two of his favorites?  Totally Worth It.

The Memories, The Rewards - Totally Worth It.

That I missed connecting with a few of my favorite women?  Heartbreaking.  But that I know they were so close, SO CLOSE, even worse.  We'll get there again.  We will.  The hugs, the smiles, the squealing and catching up?  The memories of our kids playing and splashing together?  It'll happen.  They'll all happen.

Thank you, Ladies, for making me feel like one of you.  Even if I'm just on the outskirts, 2 hours away, trying to be one of you.  You've all made me feel welcome, loved, important.

Totally Worth It.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Blog Conferences and Famous People

Everyone has their list of celebrities/famous people they'd like to meet.

Face it, we do.  It's human nature to want to surround yourself with successful people; not just for their knowledge but also because we have this sense ingrained in us from the moment we are old enough to realize it - that spending time with these people in very close proximity will end with at least a little bit of their amazingness rubbing off on us.

It doesn't always happen that way, but sometimes - just sometimes - it does.  And when it does?  Oh Man.  When it does ... it's amazingly fantastic and completely unforgettable.

I like to liken myself to a blogger, even though we all know I'm not even remotely close to being as successful as others, I like to write and I think I'm pretty decent at it.

I've been to exactly ONE blog conference in my very infantile writing career.  One.  That one blog conference touched me so very much (not that way ya perverts) I couldn't wait to go back ... only... only this year I couldn't go.  Instead of dealing with this like a calm, rational adult - I spent the entire week leading up to, the weekend of and moments after (so far) whining like a five year old who has to watch her little brother/sister open all sorts of birthday presents while not having any for herself.

Now, I'm not the most mature adult there is - I know this - but these bloggers?  They're my people.  They are my tribe.  They are my audience, my encouragement, my readers, my fans, my Friends.  They're My People.  I am forever grateful for the twist of fate that sent me reeling into their orbit, into their path and standing alongside of them for pictures, seminar sessions, 80s themed proms and free drinks. 

Last May, still trying to wrap my head and heart around our new normal, I joined a twitter party.

If you've never been to a twitter party, I suggest it so very highly - it's impossible to keep up 100%; because you don't know every single person that is taking part.  You only see those you follow, those who use the hashtags that you use, those that are retweeted or commented to by those you do follow .. It's horrible and wonderful and amazing - take it from me, try it once.  

Okay, back to me.  Last May, I logged into twitter at the urging of some of my friends; this twitter party was different than any other I'd taken part in.  This twitter party offered prizes.  Books, mugs, swag - and a free ticket into the Blog U Conference's Inagural Year ... I don't need to tell you how farfetched I thought winning anything, let alone the grand prize, was.  I'd had the worst year to date, and I knew my luck was less than stellar.

On top of that?  I'm not a really real blogger - not of the same caliber these bloggers are.  I don't have a following, I barely post - and when I do, it's all self-serving.  These bloggers - men & women alike - they move people, they start movements, they make money with their writings, they share the deepest parts of their souls, they host amazing give-aways, they are so talented I don't compare.  I didn't think I would belong, I wouldn't fit in, I would stand out because I was an imposter.  And that was only if I won!  There was no feasible way I could have gone otherwise, it just logistically and financially didn't make sense.

There are four questions asked during this twitter party.  Four.  Four chances to win swag -- or your way into the conference.  I answered each one, had some great laughs and "met" some fantastic women.  Nearing the last few moments of the "party" I started to feel my heart rate accelerate.  This was it.  The one chance I had to go.  I don't even remember the question, or my answer, but I do remember the 2 minutes between when I answered and when Kim responded "Congratulations, @Tink_143!! You're The Grand Prize Winner!!  DM @TheBlogU with your email address.  We'll see you in Baltimore!"

I couldn't breathe.  I think I responded something like "Get the fuck outta here!!!  are you serious!?" or "No Fucking Way!" I won my way in and I couldn't have been any more grateful than I was in that moment (or so I thought.. more on that later)

BUT ... here's the best part.  Up until I'd won?  I didn't have my name on my Twitter Account.  There?  There I was just @Tink_143.   The next day, when Kim and I were chatting on someone's status update - I told her "I'm Tink" ... she was floored.  Out of all the years we'd been talking, (really, I'd been cyber-stalking her) she never knew I had a blog or a twitter - because I don't promote myself.  She had to prove to the others involved with the Twitter Party that my name was selected randomly, because all of those involved were some of my favorite bloggers and they'd all been made aware of our recent tragedy**.
Amy Effing Mayo didn't fit

Back to my original thought.  We all have these celebrities we'd love to meet; just for a photo op, autograph - ask questions - have a meal - share a laugh ... we all have a list.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I do have a list of movie stars and TV show actors/actresses and musicians I'd give just about anything to spend 5 minutes with.  Even more than that?   These bloggersThese women (sorry Mike - I hadn't read your words prior to BlogU14) these women were my celebrities.  They were the ones I would have sold my soul to meet.  To hug, to laugh with, cry with; to have them accept me into their Tribe.  And here I was, just a few weeks away from acheiving that very goal. 

I don't fly.  Ever.  I hate it.  I have such anxiety that it physically hurts, and I was flying - for the first time in over 9 years - ALONE. A.L.O.N.E. What the fuck did I get myself into??  Adding my anxiety about flying to my anxiety about arriving in Baltimore and attending an amazing conference where I didn't feel like I would belong - I was a hot.freakin.mess.

For My Minion - Who Has Never Flown .. Yet
Cue Andrea.  Andrea - my darling friend, who lives so freakin' close to me I'm horrified we'd never met before - Andrea used to fly all the time, she knew just how to keep me occupied.  She kept me talking the entire freakin' flight ... and I bet she has no idea what I said, or what we talked about because I don't remember it.  All I remember is her snapping a quick picture of me for Emily, my snapping a few shots of out the window for Emily and rambling about who knows what.  I wouldn't have survived that flight.  She set me at ease (as much as one could) from the moment I heard her voice "Amy?? Amy is that you!?  It's me - Andrea!  UDG!!! is anyone sitting with you? Can I sit here?"  There is no way I could ever properly thank her.  Ever.

Once we landed, I had to find the amazing bloggers who were going to rescue me from an aimless airport wandering and hoping some kind blogger would find me and take pity.  Thankfully, even though I found them - we found Michelle's van - drove through Baltimore at what felt like warp speed - I got motion sickness and made the WORST first impression ever (dude, that crash test dummy standing guard in that parking lot was glad to see me go!) - these women are among my closest friends, even if they don't know it.
... This Restaurant Hated Us ...

After a lunch date with nearly 50 other bloggers where we took over an entire restaurant (Friends, tell me you didn't go back there this year?!), where I met even MORE amazing women and where we completely turned the waitstaff against us.  "really, separate checks!?" we finally headed to campus ... where we were met with open arms, squeals and tears.  New friends greeting us as if we were old friends.  New friends that would remain friends for the weekend, and beyondI met my roommate, who is fucking amazing.  She's smart, kind, talented, beautiful, open and loud.  All the things I hope to be!  I also met a wonderfully charismatic, beautiful, hilarious, talented blogger named Tabatha.  I have this amazing feeling that these women (and Mike) will be in my life forever.    

Megan, Maddie, Tabatha & Me - NickMom Prom 2014, Baby
Between laughing so hard we couldn't catch our breath, learning so many amazing things from so many amazing women, learning tips and tricks I'd never considered and rescuing fellow bloggers from errant blinds - friendships were forged, relationships were solidified and a tribe was born.
HRH Amazing Amazon Bongiorno autographed all of her books for me.
Shit-Tay-Tay ... The Amazing Stacia <3 comment-3--="">

Why has it taken me a year to write this out?  I think I've just come to grips with how perfect that weekend was.   Truly, perfect.  All of it!       The weather was gorgeous, the campus was out of this world, the bloggers were ... indescribable ... That's why it hurt so much that I couldn't go back this year.  

The one regret I have from BlogU14?   I didn't take as many pictures as I wanted to.  I was (believe it or not) shy and completely lacking self-confidence to ask for them. 

I have photos with some of my favorites - that apparently my computer refuses to relinquish (look for an edited blog post in the future) and I couldn't link to every single blogger there - because It would just be a list of amazing people to read.

I couldn't possibly begin to tell you about each and every amazing person I had the pleasure and honor to share space with.  This blog post is littered with more than enough reading material to get me through a day, so hopefully, for you all at least the summer.  Well.  To at least get caught up with the amazing things they've written so far.

I'm telling you - these bloggers.  They're inspirationalThe mountains they've conquered, the ocean's they've crossedthe words they've written, the Marathons they've masteredThey're the reason I want to go back.  They're the reason I have my passion back.  Well, okay, not the only reason, my life is a ridiculous story that begs to be written about.  But these women?  These Bloggers?  That one lone dude who has larger cahones than I've ever considered to be the ONLY dude at a Blog Conference with at least 200 strange (in the best possible way) WOMEN ... his wife loves him a great fuckin' deal.

I missed the lessons, I missed the learning, I missed the prom and the open mic .. but I missed my friends the most.

It's on - BlogU16 ... you'd better be ready.  Amy Fucking Mayo - Is coming back. 

Brace yourselves.

My apologies to anyone I've inadvertantly missed, or omitted .. please know you're all incredibly important to me.  More than I can ever say.

**I'm trying so hard not to focus on this - because it does not define me, it is only a piece of who I am.  But it's important to note: each one of these women supported me and my family in our rebuilding, our loss and our needs.  Mentally, emotionally, physically - in all the ways life-long friends support you when you're in a situation as dire as ours was.   They were there for us.  Women I'd never met.  Banded together, to be there for me.  To make sure I knew I am important to them, just as important as they are to me.  And I will never forget it.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Cinco De Mayo ... Truthfully

A friend of mine recently recommended I write up a blog post using Cinco De Mayo as a way to bring traffic to my blog, attention to my writing and just an over all fun way to incorporate my married name into social media trending.

I'm not usually one to worry about page views, or blog traffic - I've had this blog for years and I'm fairly certain I have maybe 3 faithful readers.  And usually, I'm fine with that.  However, this time, this time I think my friend, Lisa, was on to something. 

When Lisa approached me (at the ungodly hour of 4:15am) through facebook, she thought I might want to take this leap; honestly, it scared the shit out of me.  Then, the more I thought about it - the more I though, why the fuck not.   She recommended I do a post like one of her old posts,  but "obviously something more creative. (Which I know you can do)" (she gives me way too much credit here.) 

So without further ado - my leap into what I'm calling "LOOK AT ME!!!  I'M WRITING! writing"

Cinco De Mayo ... play on words, fun - creative - witty - humorous .. all things I like to believe I am, all things I'm falling short on here.  That's funny, because I'm short.  Like really short.  Like any shorter and I'd be considered a midget, legally.  So, short.

Alright, enough stalling.

CINCO DE MAYO:  The Amy Version - five things I bet you didn't know about me, that I'll deny vehemently should I ever be confronted about these five things (or any other things) in public.

  1. I don't really like drinking.  Right - you're shocked; I just beat the fuck out of your reality and blew up your mind.  I know.  It's okay.  You can sit down again, I promise, the rest of these cinco truths will be nothing as earth-shattering as this one.  So now that I've done that - right out of the gate, mind you - let's explore it a smidge.  I'm Irish & Italian, primarily - I'm supposed to enjoy drinking.  It's in my blood!  my bones!!  my genetic make up!  Except ... I don't.  I enjoy a glass (or bottle(s) ahem) of wine; should the occassion call; but I'd much rather curl up with an iced coffee or a hot mug of tea and a great book.
  2. Prior to last year (or so) I didn't like tea.  Okay, I lied.  Two Earth-Shattering confessions, right out tha gate!  Your understanding of my psyche is crumbling, isn't it?  It's okay, you can take another minute if you want.  I'll wait here ------- back?  Alright, let's delve.  I'm not talking about Lipton Iced Tea, or Arizona Iced Tea, or Twisted Tea, even.  I'm talking about hot water, a bag full of sticks, leaves and other assorted flavorings.  I mean think about that, let it steep for a minute.  (see what I did there?  I am pretty clever.  Though I had to point it out, so maybe I'm just a glutton for "LOOK AT ME AREN'T I FUNNY!!!)  Lately, with certain blends, I've become addicted to drinking a nice mug of tea and reading a book or two.  I don't sweeten it, or add cream or milk, or anything else.  Just water and a bag (or diffuser) full of twigs, leaves and other assorted flavorings that come within the blend.
  3.  I Love Birds, but I will *never* have a pet bird.  Ever.  Recently, our neighbors took a vacation.  A vacation that I am insanely jealous of, that I will most likely never be able to duplicate but one that I will (playfully) hold against them for as long as we are friends/neighbors.  (Freighbors, as my lovely friend Foxy says) Whilst they were away, Emily and I took care of their birds.  They have two.  They're loud, messy and incredibly ungrateful.   At least dogs & cats pretend to be amused and thankful whenever you're around.  Birds are just - douches.   
  4. I'm addicted to bingewatching shows.  No joke.  I have consumed entire seasons and series of shows on Netflix, Hulu and Amazon Prime.  But I don't watch things people tell me I should watch.  (this goes back to that whole "don't tell me what to do" aversion I suffer from).  I refuse to watch: American Horror Story, Sons of Anarchy, The Walking Dead, Orange is the New Black, Doctor Who ... and a variety of other shows that I don't care enough about to list out.  I have, however, devoured Mad Men, Covert Affairs, Suits, Devious Maids, Ugly Betty, Parenthood, and a slew of other ones I didn't care enough about to remember, or recommend.  Then I get pissed when I reach the last available episode, like hostile and violent.  Pissed.

  5. And finally - I have not done one single bit of required reading for any of my courses.  With the exception of Children's Literature and even then, it was limited reading.  I don't need to actually read the chapters.  It's weird and stupid and I'm still getting a 4.0, maintaining my place on the Dean's List and mostly enjoying college; non-traditionally, of course.  While my courses have been mediocre and uninteresting - I still enjoy being a college student, and look forward to earning my degree and moving on with my learning.   Even though, every chance she gets, Emily reminds me that I "only WORK a college MOM" I'm "not actually a student there!"  I will be, someday, a student here; instead of one of the smaller sister schools within our University System.

So, that's me.  In a Cinco De Mayo get to know list ...  I hope it was close to what you had in mind, Lisa -- thanks again for the prompt!

Friday, March 13, 2015

Today, we focus on Love.

One Year Ago
One Year
God, It Doesn't Seem That Long
But then, It Seems Longer
One Year.

One year since I've seen their faces, except I see them every time I close my eyes. 
Every dream I have, every nightmare.  

... Every Single Time ...

I Miss Them.  
So much my heart hurts.

And still, we grieve as if it were just yesterday.  

Today, instead of dwelling on what happened - today, I'm dwelling on love.  the love we have, the love we had, the loves we lost.  Love.  Today is About Love.
Ours, Theirs, Yours.


So, join me in loving them.  Join Me in Love.
Serandipity - Sera
Gulliver Alloysius - Gullie
Olliver Francis - Ollie
Pixie - Meep
Maximus Elizabeth - Maxi

This is where they live now.

They are - so so so - so very missed.

It's hard to believe it was one year ago

Though she hasn't been gone nearly as long, she is missed just as fiercely.

And now they are all together again, as they should be.
They remain in our hearts, in our minds and in our memories.

And in the Stars.

They are our Stars <3>

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Right Here, Right Now - The Year of Amy

It's no secret that 2014 was quite probably, the worst year of my, our, life so far.
With the loss of our home, our pets, a loved one, friends who just - disappeared from our lives ... our daughter suffered far more than any child should ever have to suffer; and I know there are others out there who suffer more or worse and I hate that, I do.  There are always other tragedies, there will always be other tragedies, but this one was ours.

So.  On January 4th of this Year, I posted the following Facebook Status:

In 2015, I resolve to be me. To be happy. To see the positive in as many situations as I can.
I also resolve to not chase after people who don't care enough to chase after me.
In 2015, I resolve to make this year the year of Amy.

I've lost track already.  Lately, I've been stuck in the past.  I've been letting my fears and anxieties take hold, gain control and derail me further. I've been suckerpunched into a vortex of negativity; one that I refuse to spiral down any further.
Easier said than done, of course, but I'm a work in progress.  We all are.

Here's where I've decided to take a stand and not let this track be the one I continue on.  Right here.  Right now.  The Year of Amy?  Has resumed.

I am no longer going to dwell on what if, what could be, what was, or the hows & whys of it all.   I am no longer going to be held captive by my fears and anxieties.  Right here. Right Now.

Starting with this moment; I'm Done With It.

Do you know why they'll love her?  Because I Love Her.

The hardest part of all of this?  Following through.  I'm a natural worrier, I'm naturally concerned with the whys and hows.  I truly don't care what people think of me, unless they're my friends - in which case, I need to know the truth.  The honest, 100%, absolute, heartbreaking, tear your guts out truth.

I don't know where this NEED comes from, but it's there.  Glaringly, every day. Until now.  Now?  I'm too old for this shit.  I don't care anymore.  It's not MY problem if people like me - even my friends.

This weekend I did something I never ever ever do - I bought make up.  What??!!  No, really, okay - truthfully I bought some face wash that has been ravely reviewed and the make up was free.  Then I thought, Why Not?   I Don't know how to USE half of it, or what half of it even IS - but I have it now and I can learn.  I'm pretty smart. 

I'm Done.

Are You?  Is this a fight you have too? Am I alone in this internal battle?  Caring about what my friends think?  What they really think?  I don't think I am.  I don't think I could be alone in this battle, but what I do think, is that this - THIS is a battle I'm going to win.  Today.  Right here, Right now.

The Year Of Amy.  Sounds Pretty Fucking Awesome To Me. 
Do you know why??  No?  Okay, then.

I'll tell you why, it's because I Am Pretty Fucking Awesome.

I'm offering up a challenge, to you my dear readers .. be kind to yourself and forget about the rest.  You don't need to know what other people think.  Why? Because YOU ARE FUCKING AWESOME.  That's why.  Let it go, make this - the year of You.