I can't tell you how excited I am now that it is officially fall. Fall is wonderful. Soon the trees will be turning into their brilliant shades of orange, red, and yellow. The air is nice, crisp, and clean. The rag weed is in full bloom swelling my eyes shut and making my sound like I'm hacking up a hairball, but hey! I can deal with that because FALL! I can break out my flannel shirts and hoodies and my boots. The only thing I hate about this season is going into the craft stores and seeing Christmas decorations everywhere. It isn't even Halloween. It isn't even freaking October and Christmas crap is everywhere. I'm a Grinch, yes I know, but I don't celebrate Christmas. Well I kinda do, my husband does, but, being a pagan, I celebrate Yule WHICH WAS THERE FIRST. But seriously, Christmas, it isn't even close to your month. Let us enjoy the other holidays first.




The windows have been open the cats have been happy since it is nice and cool. Abby doesn't want to come inside from our walks. Instead she likes to roll in the grass and lay there with her ball. I can't blame her. The grass is nice and cool and feels great on my toes too.


And now for something completely different.....

Several of my friends are now in direct sales. Avon, Arbon, Pure Romance, Party Lite, Scentsy, Damsel in Defense, Thirty-One...I think that is it. Oh! Mary Kay. While I love the fact that they are excited about their businesses and are trying to build a clientele list and promote their products, I am just burned out with the whole direct sales things. I just can't do it. I can't justify the price of the products. I'm not paying $100 for a tote bag. I have a problem paying $20. I don't wear a lot of make up and I'm quite happy with Cover Girl and Revlon. I don't buy candles because I don't really burn then outside of pagan purposes and those are unscented candles for a reason. I'm very sensitive to scents and my cats like to eat candles. I don't particularly care for the face cleaning products because Clinique works best for me and last so much longer than anything from Mary Kay or Arbon. Damsel in Defense was pretty cool. I mean, tasers and sharp pointy sticks, but the consultant ruined it for me. She was completely unprofessional. Pure Romance is the only one I frequent because I love the products enough to buy them again. I can't live without the Coochy and the Body Dew. They make my skin feel wonderful after shaving and showering. Coochy also does wonders for my hair after I dye or bleach it. However, I keep getting invited to parties and made to feel like it is my obligation to go. I went to my fifth one last night. I'm done. I'm tapped out. So if you have a party, I will be happy to look at a catalogue and maybe place and outside order so you can get your party credit, but I'm no going to parties any longer. I'm just done.


On that note: Some advice to the consultants out there.....


During your party you need to be as professional as possible. Appearances are everything. 10 seconds is what it takes for another person to look at you from head to toe and make a judgment based on how you look. When you are trying to sell a product wearing a tank top, shorts, and flip flops, I'm not going to take you seriously. You are tying to promote your business. You need to look the part. Also, starting out, I understand you may need to have note cards and such, but after 6 months, you should not be reading from your cards. You should have your pitch down pat. You need to put down the security blanket and interact with your hostess and her guests. Speaking of, you need to be gracious to your hostess. She is the reason you are getting paid. Finally, I understand that your business depends of referrals and parties, but you need to remember that not everyone wants to book a party and when they say no, several times, you need to back off and accept the answer. I asked a consultant a price of a product and the first thing she said was, “Well if you book a party and for $200 in sales.....” I didn't ask about booking a party and I didn't ask what the price was after sales, I asked what the price was. She refused to tell me what the price of the product was. She kept trying to push me into booking a party. It was incredibly frustrating. I just ended up walking away. She lost a potential sale, and any potential future sales that she could have made from me if I actually booked a party, because of that. There is a fine line between trying to encourage a person into booking a party and being down right rude. Something to keep in mind. 

Oh, by the Fall gods, it is back! The Pumpkin Spice. I still haven't quite figured out where this spice is found in the wild, but the coffee chains have managed to cultivate it. I love fall. It is my season. My favorite color is October and my favorite smell is November, but September kills me with its fascination with Pumpkin Spice, although August jumped on the bandwagon. Everywhere I turn, there is pumpkin coffee, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin cookie dough, and if I have to sit through and advertisement for pumpkin K-cups from Dunkin Donuts one more time, I am going to throw something. I'm constantly being asked if I wanted to try a Pumpkin Spice Latte. No. If I wanted one, I would have ordered one.

So can some one explain the obsession with pumpkin spice to me? I don't get it. I'm one of those people who doesn’t really like pumpkin to begin with, so this whole pumpkin coffee just grosses me out. Why would you want your coffee to taste like an overly sweet pie? Ew. Just Ew. But people are all for it. Give me a Peppermint White Mocha any day of the week.  

In an effort to blog more often than once a month, a habit that has been commented on several times, I'm posting a new post. I have been told that I should really be getting a post up and out at least once a week, especially when I get published. People are going to want to know more about me and my thoughts. That is a very scary thing. I don't think you people understand what you are getting into. I try to post substantial things, or rants, and that takes a good month. I usually think about what I'm going to post and try to form a well rounded post. But once a week? Really? I mean, I'm crazy. Like bat-shit crazy. I tame the crazy, but it is there. Making me post once a week, I can't make any guarantees that the crazy will not seep through. Gone will the insightful things that make you think. Gone will be the rants that took me a while to compose. My blog will, instead, be filled with the weird and random. And the ramblings. Lots and lots of ramblings.

My first rambling moment is as follows: Non- Natural Hair Colors.....

I have pink hair. I don't mean bubble gum pink. It is darker than that, more of a shade of fuchsia. It is bright. You really can't miss me. I have had pink hair off and on for a while, much to my mother's dismay. She hates that I color my hair in the first place, but the fact that it is pink is a burr in her saddle, to use a southern colloquialism. I am a natural blonde. It varies from a dark blonde to a very bright gold depending on how much sun I get. According to my mother, woman pay thousands of dollars a year to get my natural hair color. I hate it. With a passion. I have always hated being blonde. Because I'm a woman, with a large boobs, and blonde, I must be stupid and, therefore, you should have the right to treat me like I'm an idiot. I have had my hair a spectrum of colors. I garner more respect when my hair is darker. It is a fact of life. People say that blondes have more fun. It could be true. It is easier to sit at a bar and have men buy you drinks so they can get into you pants if you are blonde. And, hey, since you are blonde you must be an easy get. Okay, that is an unfair rant, but still, my point. I was not allowed to dye my hair until I was 18. My first color was a dark auburn. I loved it. I go back to that color every once in a while. As a surprise for my mother's birthday, one year, I dye it black. I thought she was going to have a heart attack at her party. Her face was priceless. I stayed with the natural colors because I worked in the event management field and I needed to maintain a professional look. Once I left, I decided to dye my hair pink. Ever since I saw the music video on MTV for “Simple Kind of Life” I have wanted pink hair. What? Yes. MTV used to play music videos back before the days of You Tube. The “M” actually stands for “Music”, something the channel seems to have forgotten. But I digest.....and digress as well.....So I decided pink it was. The only problem was bleaching out my hair. I didn't really want to do that, but I did and the pink came out wonderfully. I loved it. It started with strawberry blonde hair with pink streaks. Eventually, it became completely pink, or “Properly Pink” as I call it. When my mom and Sir Step Dad married last year, I was nice and died it a normal color for the wedding. But, I have been itching to color it again. So, after asking my new bosses, who don't care what color my hair is, thankfully, I bleached it out and we are back to the fuchsia (ba dum chink!). My mom already hates it.


I love reactions to my hair. There is always a double take. People have to make sure that I, indeed, have bright pink hair. Once they realize I do, they

1. Quickly look away while trying to steal glances without looking like they stealing glances.

2. Say, “Oh I love you hair!” or “I wish I could do that to my hair!”

3. Blatantly stare. Ignore it. Be jealous, honeys, be jealous.

4. If they are children, they will either stare or say something cute.

5. Find my hair so incredibly offensive that they give me dirty looks, or in the case of the lady at Panera, flat out tell me, “Just so you know, your hair is offensive.” My response was not very kind. I said, “So is your face, but you don't see me complaining.” And that, folks, is why I should not be allowed out in public unsupervised. In my defense, Brian was there, but she decided to wait until he left to say something. I had also spent an entire weekend with my friends doing nothing but sitting at a dinning room table and writing and surviving on an obscene amount of coffee. I was slightly tired and grumpy.

All in all, I love the pink. One day I may try blue or purple, but I really love my pink hair. I don't really care that people find it offensive or like to bitch about it. I really don't. Honestly, when people give me crap about it, it show more about their character than it does mine. If you can't accept my ever changing hair color, that is on you. I'm allowed to express myself if I choose to. That is the benefit of being an adult. I'm 30 years old and don't really care if you approve of my life choices. I am me and that is all I need to be.  

Dear Mother Nature,

It is September. It is time to stop with the 90+ degree weather. It is FALL, you bipolar wench. Get it together!

Anyhow, September. I can't believe that it that time of year again. The weather is, hopefully, getting cooler, the colors are becoming colorful, and smells will eventually be that wonderfully dank Fall smell. You know the one. When the Arctic air starts to weave its way through the east coast and you have that hint of crispness....heaven. It would be in Mother Nature got her crap together.


September is always a good month for me. It was this time 14 years ago that a geeky boy popped into my life and changed it forever. It was this time 8 years ago that I married that geeky boy. Then my nephew was born. So September is usually good to me.

August, not so much. It was going well until the death of Robin Williams. I wanted to write a post shortly after it happened, but I needed time to collect my thoughts, so I'm a little late to the game.


I was devastated when I found out about his death. I was sitting at Panera with my weekly meet up with my fellow NaNoers. I was the one that shared the news with everyone. I have been sad when celebrities have passed, like Paul Walker or Ryan Dunn, but never have I been so upset. Robin Williams has never failed to make me laugh. From Mork and Mindy, to Aladdin, to Hook, to RV to his HBO special, he has never failed to brighten my day. To say that I was sad would be a lie. The news brought all of us down. Our group is usually happy and lively, except when November rolls around and we barely move from out computers. I went home that night and cried. At first, I felt a little silly. We didn't know what had happened since the details of his death had not yet been released. When they were released, and we learned that he had committed suicide, my heart broke even more. How could this man, who had brought so much happiness to the lives of countless people, kill himself? It didn't make sense to me. But then it did. He lost his battle with depression, a never ceasing battle that I also fight every day of my life.

A thing about me. I was diagnosed at 16 with depression. I have played the medication roulette more times that I can count. Some of it was environmental, but most of is clinical. I have hidden it most of my life, but, here recently, I have decided to be more open. I'm not a freak or a Drama Queen, two labels that have followed me for a while. I'm not “just sad” and no amount of exercise is going to make it better. I have thought about suicide countless times. I either talked myself out of it or my boyfriend (who is now my husband) talked me out of it. Other times I would look at my sisters and think, “What would happen to them if it died?” My sister, Dee-da (nickname obviously. I try to avoid names), would have been the one to find me. Could I put her through that? How would finding me dead affect her? I couldn't do that to her. I never spoke to her about this, so she doesn't know how she kept me alive. I know we didn't get along very well during that time and it was mostly my fault. I didn't know how to deal with the violent mood swings and the uncontrollable rages that were a side effect of the medicines, oh excuse me, the phentermine that the brilliant quack of a doctor and Douche Bag decided I needed to take because 135lbs at 16 is too fat for my 5'3 body frame. Basically, I had roid rage. Unfortunately, she took the brunt of those and for that I am so very sorry. The memories still haunt me at times and the always will because Depression. I love you with all of my heart. Anyhow, the doctors were quick to medicate instead of getting to the root of the problem. And that is how it is everywhere. Take a pill, it will make you feel better.

There were three times when I survived. Barely, but I survived. I barely speak about this to anyone and I don't want to go into details about those horrible days, but I lived and that is what is important. This was after I was placed in a mental institution to "teach me a lesson" because of my "feigned suicide attempt". It was wonderful being called a Drama Queen and told I needed to pay for my medical bills since I wanted to cause problems.  

When I moved in with my husband, things were a bit easier to manage. I was five hours away from anything and everything I knew. I was still getting accused of stealing medications and stupid things around my mother's house by Douche Bag, mostly medications with codeine. That shit knocks me out for several hours at a time. You would KNOW if I had take it. I'm usually a slobbering pile of person on the bed. I have to be supervised for a reason. Sheesh! Sorry, I digress. Managing it without medication was difficult. I didn't want to be medicated because, in my mind, that equated to being weak. That was stuck in my head, ground in there by the doctors and certain family members. I had depression, so I was weak. I had to suck it up and deal with it. So I tried. Some days I cried. Some days I just sat and stared at the blank wall for hours. Other days I barely had enough energy to get out of bed. But I made sure to put on a brave face for my husband. I didn't want him to see. Then Patches entered my life. My therapy dog. He just knew what I needed when I needed it, whether it was snuggles on the couch or a walk outside. He knew. For nine years I was un-medicated and good. But this past year he died and the depression started again. This time, I decided that I needed medication. I'm dealing. I'm managing. Does that mean I'm all better? No. It will never get better. Depression isn't something that you cure.

So fast forward to Robin Williams. The thing that upset me the most were the ignorant people saying how selfish he was to commit suicide. It isn't selfish. You can't judge people. You don't know their lives. Pain, trauma, and depression is a spectrum. What is painful for one person may seem inconsequential to others. I kept quiet on social media for a while because I was going to get into a HUGE fight with people I know.


Depression is not a choice. You can't CHOOSE to not be sad. You can't CHOOSE to get better. Depression isn't the inability to deal with trauma because it isn't always caused by trauma. It just is and people do not seem to understand that. It is a mental illness. It doesn't go away. All you can do is manage it. There is not cure. Medicine and therapy can help, but aren't the magic cure-all. I have fought every day for the past 15 years with this illness. Some days are better than others. Some times I am medicated and some times I am not. But it is always there. Always. Many people do not see it because I wear the mask of normality very well, like most of us do. It is a fight, a long, hard, bitter fight and sometimes, people get tired of fighting. Sometimes, the light is just gone, leaving just the darkness. When you spend so much time in the dark, it is hard to remember the light and your fear sets in. Some people can endure this, others can't. It doesn't make them weak. It doesn't make them selfish.

The fact that there is such a negative stigma about mental illness says something about out society. Instead of helping people and trying to understand, society is quick to make assumptions. "Oh, have you not tried being sad?" "Why don't you go run or something, you will feel better." "You haven't moved passed that yet? What is wrong with you?" "Just go to therapy and get over it." "Depression isn't real. Just get over it." Get over it. Get over it. Get over it. That is what you hear all the time. Get over it. I wish, with all of my heart, it were that easy.

“Suicide is a decision made out of desperation, hopelessness, isolation and loneliness. The black hole that is clinical depression is all-consuming. Feeling like a burden to loved ones, feeling like there is no way out, feeling trapped and feeling isolated are all common among people who suffer from depression.

People who say that suicide is selfish always reference the survivors. It's selfish to leave children, spouses and other family members behind, so they say. They're not thinking about the survivors, or so they would have us believe. What they don't know is that those very loved ones are the reason many people hang on for just one more day. They do think about the survivors, probably up until the very last moment in many cases. But the soul-crushing depression that envelops them leaves them feeling like there is no alternative. Like the only way to get out is to opt out. And that is a devastating thought to endure.

Until you've stared down that level of depression, until you've lost your soul to a sea of emptiness and darkness... you don't get to make those judgments. You might not understand it, and you are certainly entitled to your own feelings, but making those judgments and spreading that kind of negativity won't help the next person. In fact, it will only hurt others.” (Katie Hurley)

That is really all I have to say on the matter. I am trying, still, to accept and deal with my depression. It will always be a battle. I will no longer tolerate the negativity associated with it. Don't tell me to “get over it” or that I need to “find Jesus again” or that “God will take care of all my problems” or some crap like that. It is what it is and negativity is no longer tolerated. It is a part of me. It will never go away.


Moving on, I have not forgotten about the entries to my writing contest. I have a winner and I will announce that next Monday as well as give out my goodie bags.


My creative goals this month:

1. Finish the blanket for Book Lover's Bazaar. Seriously, top priority since that is on the 20th.

2. Work on my new project. A romance of all things....a genre I usually avoid.....

3. Kinda start thinking about NaNo.

4. Work on updating my blogs.