Whilst chopping it up with my fellow alkie's (AA members) yesterday, it was decided that most ex-drunks very much like to get our naps on. Perhaps we have earned our snoozing credits from all our tiresome boozing. To be more specific, it takes a lot of gosh darn energy to thoroughly bungle up your life to a mere shred of recognition, so we drunks be tired and shit. Anyways, I gave myself the lofty title of "High Priestess of Daytime Slumber" as my buddie Darren is the King of Naps and I didn't want any tongues wagging about us hooking up if I was the Queen of Naps, although now that I think about it, there are alot of sleepy monikers one could adopt and I am listing some here:
The Duchess of Dozing
Prince Forty Winks
The Grand Master of Zzzzzs
Cousin Catnap and his Cozy Kip
Debbie Downtime
The Pillowface Burgler
Senor Timeout
Sir Rests-a-lot
His Majesty Snoring of Boring
Ok, ok, so I am taking artistic license on that last one, but moving right along......
So as the High Priestess of Daytime Slumber, I can't spend ALL my time attending to my sacred duties and must address other official yet tiresome activities like....making oatmeal.
I apologize for the brevity of this post, really, I just wrote it to amuse my friend Tony and, yawn, I feel a nap coming on now. Yes, it is time to worship at my bed shrine. I feel exalted already.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Thursday, July 4, 2013
My will, my wants, my...wait! what the hell is going on?!!?
So I'm sitting here thinking about how far from where I wanna be in my life I am. Oh yes, I've daydreamed about having a architectural digest house overlooking Puget sound. I'd have my own 4 seater Seesna airplane, an 80' yacht, and a big bountiful garden where I would entertain my gorgeous charismatic friends with our many stamped passports. We would muse about all the successful gallery shows I've sold my work in while listening to one of my many albums that I wrote produced and played all the instruments while eating cucumber sandwiches from my garden. Of course I would be wearing a most fetching frock from my latest collection that I designed and discuss the material for my one-man stand up show coming up....Oh what! That's next week! Great scott! How the time flies! I'm doing the book signing for my wildly successful children's book which I wrote and illustrated that day. Heavens! That simply won't do. No sir! Better push the one-man show till August. Yes.
But the reality is; that here I am, completely worn out from my minimum wage job working amongst a bunch of teenagers, eating top ramen off a reused paper plate, watching anime and daydreaming of an apartment without mold. How did this happen you ask? Alcoholism. Being an alcoholic gave me the unrealistic expectations and the decline to poverty simultaneously. What has changed is my perspective.
Today is the fourth of July and I tell you what. Last year on this day, I was bumming change from people on 6th Avenue for a can of tuna fish so my cats and I could eat. But even though I have only leveled up slightly..... I am happy, joyous and free. Why? I am sober today and everyday since February 11th this year. And even though it may seem like I haven't progressed financially, I feel rich. Rich beyond measure, and full of hope. Hope that one day I just may enjoy a few things I listed above. But whatever my higher power has in store for me, I say "bring it on" with a contented and full heart. I am ready for growth, and strive to be helpful to others.
But seriously, I still do fantasize of having a yacht and some beautiful friends to enjoy it with someday. There are just some dreams I won't let go of. But until that day, I will continue to trudge the road to happy destiny and appreciate all that sobriety has given me. So while I may only travel by looking at the magazines at Safeway one day I'll get to say, all aboard!
But the reality is; that here I am, completely worn out from my minimum wage job working amongst a bunch of teenagers, eating top ramen off a reused paper plate, watching anime and daydreaming of an apartment without mold. How did this happen you ask? Alcoholism. Being an alcoholic gave me the unrealistic expectations and the decline to poverty simultaneously. What has changed is my perspective.
Today is the fourth of July and I tell you what. Last year on this day, I was bumming change from people on 6th Avenue for a can of tuna fish so my cats and I could eat. But even though I have only leveled up slightly..... I am happy, joyous and free. Why? I am sober today and everyday since February 11th this year. And even though it may seem like I haven't progressed financially, I feel rich. Rich beyond measure, and full of hope. Hope that one day I just may enjoy a few things I listed above. But whatever my higher power has in store for me, I say "bring it on" with a contented and full heart. I am ready for growth, and strive to be helpful to others.
But seriously, I still do fantasize of having a yacht and some beautiful friends to enjoy it with someday. There are just some dreams I won't let go of. But until that day, I will continue to trudge the road to happy destiny and appreciate all that sobriety has given me. So while I may only travel by looking at the magazines at Safeway one day I'll get to say, all aboard!
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Lately i'm devoid of wit...
Since it's been a minute since I last posted, I am throwing my proverbial hands up and saying "to hell with it, I don't care if I are devoid of wit! Just post SOMETHING!" You see, Ive been tapping my toes waiting to be stricken on by some grand flash of ideas, and doo de doo, nothing is coming to me. I'm learning inspiration is a fickle romance. I have also landed on the flimsy conclusion that I am a non-discriminatory creative type and whatever medium speaks to me in that moment is what I explore. "Way to justify Barbara Jean, your most likely just a slacker." says my internal naysayer. Well, I stick out my tongue at that naysayer (whom I lovingly call Barb), and am prompted to post some of my other mediums this time around. Here are some thank you collages/comics I made for my wonderful friends for being..well..wonderful.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Addendum to the world as we know it
After much thought and deliberation on the state of things, I would hereby like to make the following additions:
1. a punctuation mark somewhere between . and !
Don't you notice yourself pausing after making a friendly text not knowing what to end your upbeat missive with? A period seems somewhat drab and lacking in energy, but an exclamation point feels eager, like an annoying cheerleader. Plus if you already used a !, it seems overzealous and tediously happy to the point of sarcasm. Of course we have the option of a smile emoji, or lol, but I think that too, is laborious. I guess one is left to pray to the punctuation gods or channel the ghost of E.E. Cummings.
2. an addition of an 8th day of the week, called "Funday"
This day would sit neatly between Saturday and Sunday and true to the word, it would be a day of fun. Your own interpretation of "fun" could of course be customizable. Let it be noted that I used to vote for "Spunday", but that is another story for another time. (bless your heart if you know what I'm talking about). It is my belief that we all need a good dose of fun, but an entire day would benefit society as a whole. Plus the 8 day week would be more tidy in the long run, don't you think?
3. a required sticker indicating a senior citizen driver
You've all seen it. One curled hand at 11 o'clock and another wrinkly hand at 1 o'clock. Seemingly gripping onto life itself, the hands belong to some wizened crone or codger peering through the steering wheel of an old Buick creeping along 10 miles under the speed limit. But, by the time you see the senior, you've already cussed out the offending driver with fiery words not found in the dictionary. If only there was a sticker that the person was in their golden years, you might have prevented your blood pressure from racing into the danger zone. Student drivers have them! One less case of road rage. Never mind that our beloved elders already balk at having to renew their license. Safety is important and therefore trumps pride. Plus they already get discounts and better parking.
4. teaching personal finance in school
I don't know about you, but I graduated high school knowing elements of trigonometry but hadn't the foggiest idea how to balance a checkbook. Required basic finance taught in school would have saved me ALOT of time, not to mention many sheepish excuses to creditors and at least a forest or two, as many envelopes would have spared.
I have several more changes in mind, but for now be grateful that this blogger has no interest in running for office as I am sure a new word for filibuster would need to be invented. :)
1. a punctuation mark somewhere between . and !
Don't you notice yourself pausing after making a friendly text not knowing what to end your upbeat missive with? A period seems somewhat drab and lacking in energy, but an exclamation point feels eager, like an annoying cheerleader. Plus if you already used a !, it seems overzealous and tediously happy to the point of sarcasm. Of course we have the option of a smile emoji, or lol, but I think that too, is laborious. I guess one is left to pray to the punctuation gods or channel the ghost of E.E. Cummings.
2. an addition of an 8th day of the week, called "Funday"
This day would sit neatly between Saturday and Sunday and true to the word, it would be a day of fun. Your own interpretation of "fun" could of course be customizable. Let it be noted that I used to vote for "Spunday", but that is another story for another time. (bless your heart if you know what I'm talking about). It is my belief that we all need a good dose of fun, but an entire day would benefit society as a whole. Plus the 8 day week would be more tidy in the long run, don't you think?
3. a required sticker indicating a senior citizen driver
You've all seen it. One curled hand at 11 o'clock and another wrinkly hand at 1 o'clock. Seemingly gripping onto life itself, the hands belong to some wizened crone or codger peering through the steering wheel of an old Buick creeping along 10 miles under the speed limit. But, by the time you see the senior, you've already cussed out the offending driver with fiery words not found in the dictionary. If only there was a sticker that the person was in their golden years, you might have prevented your blood pressure from racing into the danger zone. Student drivers have them! One less case of road rage. Never mind that our beloved elders already balk at having to renew their license. Safety is important and therefore trumps pride. Plus they already get discounts and better parking.
4. teaching personal finance in school
I don't know about you, but I graduated high school knowing elements of trigonometry but hadn't the foggiest idea how to balance a checkbook. Required basic finance taught in school would have saved me ALOT of time, not to mention many sheepish excuses to creditors and at least a forest or two, as many envelopes would have spared.
I have several more changes in mind, but for now be grateful that this blogger has no interest in running for office as I am sure a new word for filibuster would need to be invented. :)
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Bow tie wearing zombies in love
Today I found myself merrily bopping along to OutKast's song bow tie and decided I needed a Naked green machine juice. I hoisted my bike up onto the curb out of bustling Pacific Avenue traffic in downtown Tacoma in search of said beverage. Just then, a distinguished yet adorably scruffy gentleman rounded the corner wearing a bow tie.
Ha! I'm not sure what what level of unhip dorkinesss this reveals about my personal taste- I thought that he looked utterly sexy. Eye contact was established, but he instantly dismissed me as too young. Little did he know his assesment may have saved himself from ruin. This harmless interaction got me thinking about my recent choices. The choice I am referring to now, is my self imposed "year of intimacy abstinence". Although it is suggested for a person new in recovery like myself to not date for a year, this restriction was one I came to on my own. I am sure the refugees of Barbara Jean land would most likely agree that before I create another hostage situation, it would be best for me to hold off on the love stuff while I heal my mind, body and soul.
Ironically, this declaration is great fun for me as a conqueror of hearts. Not only does it allow me to flirt with shameless abandon, but I can do so under the banner that I am all talk. Dastardly to be sure, yet somehow safe I reason. Of course anyone that knows me knows that I am not shy, and at anytime I can be seen chopping it up with just about anyone- the guy digging in the alley for who-knows-what, the postman, or your grandmother. My friendliness knows no bounds and no one is exempt unless I am wearing my headphones.
That being said, I am also a natural flirt. Slowly I am becoming aware that this power of mine can be very destructive to all parties involved. It begins with my disarming goofy smile, followed by very honed skills of attraction, which are innate (due to years of being an exotic dancer). Pretty soon the unsuspecting fellow is under my toxic spell and is later heard muttering something about being soul mates.
And to think! He just came in for a banana! I'll take a perfectly good guy with a job, aspirations, and good health, and by the time I'm done with him, he is an unshaven corpse like lump at the food bank asking to use the phone. Codependecy to this degree is not exactly becoming. But, fear not. I am a vixen with a conscious.........
So, in conclusion, I hear by proclaim 2013 the year of no romance! I do this with the best intentions lest I create any more amorous bow tie wearing zombies humping my leg.
Ha! I'm not sure what what level of unhip dorkinesss this reveals about my personal taste- I thought that he looked utterly sexy. Eye contact was established, but he instantly dismissed me as too young. Little did he know his assesment may have saved himself from ruin. This harmless interaction got me thinking about my recent choices. The choice I am referring to now, is my self imposed "year of intimacy abstinence". Although it is suggested for a person new in recovery like myself to not date for a year, this restriction was one I came to on my own. I am sure the refugees of Barbara Jean land would most likely agree that before I create another hostage situation, it would be best for me to hold off on the love stuff while I heal my mind, body and soul.
Ironically, this declaration is great fun for me as a conqueror of hearts. Not only does it allow me to flirt with shameless abandon, but I can do so under the banner that I am all talk. Dastardly to be sure, yet somehow safe I reason. Of course anyone that knows me knows that I am not shy, and at anytime I can be seen chopping it up with just about anyone- the guy digging in the alley for who-knows-what, the postman, or your grandmother. My friendliness knows no bounds and no one is exempt unless I am wearing my headphones.
That being said, I am also a natural flirt. Slowly I am becoming aware that this power of mine can be very destructive to all parties involved. It begins with my disarming goofy smile, followed by very honed skills of attraction, which are innate (due to years of being an exotic dancer). Pretty soon the unsuspecting fellow is under my toxic spell and is later heard muttering something about being soul mates.
And to think! He just came in for a banana! I'll take a perfectly good guy with a job, aspirations, and good health, and by the time I'm done with him, he is an unshaven corpse like lump at the food bank asking to use the phone. Codependecy to this degree is not exactly becoming. But, fear not. I am a vixen with a conscious.........
So, in conclusion, I hear by proclaim 2013 the year of no romance! I do this with the best intentions lest I create any more amorous bow tie wearing zombies humping my leg.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Reggae made me late.
disclaimer;
Alright, so due to a roaring crowd (of one), I have decided to compose my personal musings on life in general. I am hoping my fans (again, one, so using a plural isn't applicible, but who's counting) will bear with me as I foray into this blossoming social media outlet without a theme present. Let me mention that my blog begins in spite of my internal perfectionist talking me out of doing it at all, lest it be tedius and dull. So after a false start and much procrastination please bare with me as a I hope a topic will rise like cream out of the sludgy ramblings.
Reggae made me late.
I. like many of my fellow early birds, enjoy music to help aid in the process of getting one's self up and out the door before the ungodly hour of 6 am. Upon spilling out of bed, I select a Pandora or Soma FM station with a foggy and optimistic mind. My thought is that the type of music I select will forshadow how my day will progress. My choices range from The Commadores to The Clash or whatever else I randomly fancy. Today, I selected Reggae. How fitting! I thought. Just the thing! And so I bobbed along to a mellow, steady, and as it turns out, too casual vibe. Music does have a way of transporting one into a certain mood, and for this bleary eyed girl, it was reaggae. This choice would have been just grand had I not played "got you last" with my snooze button for 40 min. By the time I had eased myself onto my bike saddle, it was 6:15! I did not have time to stop and change the station to a more driving tempo like The Faint or Pantera in order to propel me. And so, in my race against time I continued listening to Bob Marley and plodded along. 20 dark soggy blocks stood between me and my 6:30 meeting. By the time I rolled in, I was soaked and tardy. Seeing that my usual coveted corner chair was taken, I sandwiched myself between two bright faced (and punctual) fellows on the wooden bench, feebly muttering that the reggae had made me late. I noted to myself that perhaps next time I wrestle with my alarm clock I will listen to something more.......motivational, like "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor.
Alright, so due to a roaring crowd (of one), I have decided to compose my personal musings on life in general. I am hoping my fans (again, one, so using a plural isn't applicible, but who's counting) will bear with me as I foray into this blossoming social media outlet without a theme present. Let me mention that my blog begins in spite of my internal perfectionist talking me out of doing it at all, lest it be tedius and dull. So after a false start and much procrastination please bare with me as a I hope a topic will rise like cream out of the sludgy ramblings.
Reggae made me late.
I. like many of my fellow early birds, enjoy music to help aid in the process of getting one's self up and out the door before the ungodly hour of 6 am. Upon spilling out of bed, I select a Pandora or Soma FM station with a foggy and optimistic mind. My thought is that the type of music I select will forshadow how my day will progress. My choices range from The Commadores to The Clash or whatever else I randomly fancy. Today, I selected Reggae. How fitting! I thought. Just the thing! And so I bobbed along to a mellow, steady, and as it turns out, too casual vibe. Music does have a way of transporting one into a certain mood, and for this bleary eyed girl, it was reaggae. This choice would have been just grand had I not played "got you last" with my snooze button for 40 min. By the time I had eased myself onto my bike saddle, it was 6:15! I did not have time to stop and change the station to a more driving tempo like The Faint or Pantera in order to propel me. And so, in my race against time I continued listening to Bob Marley and plodded along. 20 dark soggy blocks stood between me and my 6:30 meeting. By the time I rolled in, I was soaked and tardy. Seeing that my usual coveted corner chair was taken, I sandwiched myself between two bright faced (and punctual) fellows on the wooden bench, feebly muttering that the reggae had made me late. I noted to myself that perhaps next time I wrestle with my alarm clock I will listen to something more.......motivational, like "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor.
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