A mini post about me, because this is how I roll and this is MY blog. Deal with it. Just kidding, kinda. I'm feeling some extreme frustration right now. Normally I'd just go upside down and do a handstand to quite literally let whatever's stuck in my head drain out onto the floor or my mat. But I hurt myself this morning trying to rocket into Peacock Pose for a yoga challenge, and my left wrist was already uncomfortable, so I'm trying not to do handstands for today. Yeah, I already failed; I had to do just one!!
Anyways, I have this awesome app on my phone that's called iPassword (pretty self-explanatory). Except, by accident, I deleted the folder that had ALL of my passwords. All of them. After first gasping, "Noooooooooo!", I was in disbelief that I actually did that. Then, I immediately got flushed and hot all over. It was one of those quick spreading angers that you just don't know how to react so you get yourself into some pose, usually with your hands gripping the roots of your hair, elbows in front of your face until all of what happened sinks in. I wanted to chuck my phone, but I know it would've gone through the TV or the window. I wanted to scream every swear known to mankind, but we had just put our kids down. Why doesn't this app have a restore button?!?!?
So, I'll NEVER do that again, and thank God every website nowadays has that handy dandy "Forgot Password?" option. After realizing that freaking out was NOT going to help my case, along with reassuring words from my husband, I moved on, because seriously, dwelling on it gets me nowhere. In a positive light, I found a nice segue into what I wrote about… swearing.
I like to swear. A lot.
Originally when I started my blog, I gave some thought and consideration to whether or not I would swear. It might turn some people off. It might generate less subscribers. I might offend some people, and I would probably be taking myself right off the fast track to a career with Hallmark.
But it wouldn't be me.
Not that I've always had a dirty mouth. When I was 7 or 8, I used to beg my mom to say the word 'shit' in John Cougar Mellancamp's "Play Guitar" because I was breaking the rules but had the ok to do so. Living on the edge, lemme just tell ya. I didn't start swearing out of my parents earshot until I was in 6th grade. Even then, I would ask my friends to "say the S (yes, S) word for me," because I just couldn't bring myself to do it. And the word 'fuck'? Awww HELL to the NO. That was my final frontier. It took me FOREVER to say that word. It just felt so dirty and so wrong … but I LOVED it at the same time. I specifically remember standing in the cafeteria and using the word 'shit' in a sentence, glancing around guiltily, waiting for my mom or dad to materialize from thin air and tell me I shouldn't talk like that, while at the same time feeling this freedom of speech that I hadn't felt before. It was awesome.
Fast forward twenty-six years, and now, if I'm having a conversation with you, I'll drop an F-bomb on the regs. That being said, I still have some boundaries. If I've never heard you swear, or if you swear infrequently, I try my best to curb my own vocabulary. There's the respect issue as well. To me, swearing to an elder is wrong (unless said elder is also dropping F-Bomb's, then it's game on). And if I'm telling you a story and I feel the need to swear to realllllly get my point across but haven't done so to you yet, I'll lower my voice when I do let the swears fly, so you have the opportunity to 'tune out the bad words' and I still feel like I'm respecting those invisible lines… but I'm also subtly gauging your body language to see how my swearing lands with you. (Hey, I never said I was normal!)
When I started writing, I first pictured my kids reading these posts when they're older. Then I pictured someone getting caught by their mom reading curse words by a blogger online and getting their kid(s) in trouble. Then I thought of the reasons I listed above. THEN I realized I was doing what I have been guilty of for most of my life; trying to live up to others expectations or please people. Well, fuck that. I'm at the eye doctor's right now, waiting for my husband to be evaluated for glasses, and if my chair wasn't backed up to a wall, I would've glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone saw me type that swear. (actually, I did!) But I digress…
When you read my posts, I want to come across as if I'm actually having a conversation with you. I want to relate with you in a way that you feel like the click of 'delete' is our way of saying goodbye. Imagine your surprise… You're picturing me all prim and proper, typing with a straight back, slacks and a button up shirt at some mahogany desk and you come to my book signing when I'm famous (cuz it'll happen), and when I meet you I say, "wow, you came all the way from Cali-fuckin-fornia, huh? Far out!", dressed in faded jeans, tank top and a sweatshirt that's got the neck ripped out broadcasting some quote from some guy named Rumi about "what you seek is seeking you".
Yeah, no false pretenses here. I swear. I'm not saying every other word is going to be a curse word from here on out; just don't be surprised if you find a few when I'm on a rant. :) If you don’t' like it, unsubscribe - no hard feelings. If you like it, well then you might find yourself having coffee with me one day, shooting the shit over my bestselling book about Growing Some Balls and Having Some Fucking Confidence for Chrissakes. Hey, it could happen.
Til next time, Love, Happiness, & Coffee, bitches