Laundry

I just finished putting away three loads of laundry.  I love the smell of clean laundry.  It's all warm and cozy and ... smells nice.  I like it when things smell nice.  I also like having clean underwear and socks and things.  And you know when your pillow case smells like dryer sheets and you smile a happy smile as you drift off to sleep, thinking of sheep and fluffy teddy bears?  No?  Just me?  Ok, then.

You know what else I like?  NOT BEING CRAZY.  I've totally been taking that for granted for most of my life.  See, a couple of months ago I start taking birth control because I had this weird notion that it would be good for me and my hoo-ha (you know, down there) and would help "regulate things" (I'm talking about my MENSTRUAL CYCLE, menfolk).  What do I get instead?  A whole bucket of fucking crazy.  I'm talking insomnia, panic attacks, crazy-bananas-thoughts, more anxiety and just for fun, a dash of insatiable hunger.  It was not fun, to say the least.  Clearly my brain cannot handle any sort of hormonal change and my Crazy Tree and I become one for time. 

My hair is doing this weird helmet thing now that I'm growing it out.
Also, I'm too lazy to color in that whole tree.  Deal with it.

Last week -- once it finally dawned on me why I was slowly turning into a lunatic -- I dug a hole in the backyard, popped each little pill out of the blister pack, set them all on fire, then buried the ashes in the hole.  Then I peed on it.  And set that on fire.

(None of that is true.  I just threw them away in a trash can at the mall, but I would have done something more extreme had I the time.)

(Maybe not the peeing part.)

(Though, if I had done it I could have just blamed it on "being crazy.")

I am finally feeling better and more like myself again.  As I'm sure I've mentioned, I tend to run on happy and anything less than that is always disconcerting.  I've only been off the wee spawns of satan for a few days so I think it's going to take some time before deciding what to watch on Netflix doesn't make me break into a sweat, but I'm sleeping now and you know, running happier, so I've got that going for me.

All joking aside, I am astounded at the affect such a tiny, seemingly insignificant pill can have on a person.  It's a bit terrifying, really.  Perhaps had I stayed on it a bit longer I would have normalized and become one with the pill instead of the tree, but I couldn't wait it out.  Never again, man.  I'll either have lots and lots of babies or continue down the path I'm on now, which is never, ever, ever having sex.  Seems to be working for me.

(That is also a lie.  It sucks.)

The good thing about all that crazy up there is that it seemed to hit me all at once and mostly AFTER my wonderful, amazing, perfect vacations came to an end.  I think the Crazy was lurking right beneath the surface, lying in wait to spring at the most inopportune time possible, but if I can pat my brain on the back for anything, it's for managing to stay in check long enough for me to get my vacation groove on.  (Vacation recap posts are coming up post-haste.)

Who's a good brain?  You're a good brain!

Now I will quickly sum up September's challenge and get on to talking about important stuff like this:

I wore this same outfit to work today.

September's challenge was to walk 100 miles.  I made it to 85.  I will walk the remaining 15 miles in October.  That is all.

Dirt and Tulle

August 24th, still-dark-in-the-morning, the day I leave for Burning Man... Yep, this seems like the perfect time to recap July's challenge and talk to you about August's.

0.o

(That's my most favorite emoticon, by the way.  I challenge you to try to make that face in real life.)

What can I say?  The month got away from me.  Between work and friends and summer and strange (strange but attractive) people living in my house, I have been busier than a one-legged woman in an ass-kicking contest and between me, you and the fencepost, I have got to find better ways to manage my time.  Or I just need to learn to say "No!"  I cram my life, nearly every day, with 47 things to do.  I have lost the ability to just ... be; to have "Heather Time."  When I'm not at work, I MUST DO ALL THE THINGS AND SEE ALL THE PEOPLE!  Basically I cram my life so full of "busyness" that I leave no time for "stillness".  And let me tell you, folks, I am feeling the effects of that.  In my brain.  I feel like I'm losing myself in the shuffle of my life.  I am always going and rarely stopping to, I dunno, smell the fucking roses or something.  I can wax philosophical about this and get all self-analytical, which I would genuinely like to do in another post, but for now...

I'M GOING TO BURNING MAN IN MERE HOURS, PEOPLE!  Hours!  Today is the day!  I am packed, organized and I want to leave right now.  I've spent all week preparing for this most epic trip:

"What are you up to?"
"Oh, not much, just trying on weird shit for Burning Man."

This fedora?  Yeah, it is made of sequins, it lights up and flashes.  I want to wear it every day.  But only with the goggles on as well.  Obv.

A few days ago my living room looked like this:

Yes, that is a pile of tulle, why do you ask?

And now it looks like this:

Them motherfuckers is ZIPPED!

If you can't tell, I'm ridiculously excited about this trip. I honestly have no idea what to expect.  I'm a bit concerned about this whole "sudden dust storm" business, but I'm already picturing the worst environment imaginable, expecting the worst, and I'm still smiling like a goon.  I long for the experiences in life --whether they be good or bad -- and even if I'm dirty and gross and eating dirt every day, I'm going to be with a phenomenal group of people and I look forward to eating dirt with them.  At Burning Man.  'Cause that's where I'm going, Burning Man.  Burning. Man.  Man of Burning.

SQUEEE!

Ok, ok... challenges.  July was no swearing and work out every day.  I believe I made it three days without swearing at all, and those were not consecutive days.  It was much more difficult than I had anticipated.  I did exercise every day though, so yay me.  I succeeded with a challenge.

This month is "no caffeine", which I quickly edited to "no coffee, Red Bull, or soda, but I can still drink tea and chew Midol by the fistful."  It's going pretty well.  I've had a half a cup of coffee a few times, but once again, I accomplished what I wanted to when I started the challenge, which was to break the habit -- the *need* for a cup of coffee to start the day.

I was also going to do this whole thing about how I need to find ways to be more positive, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, but yeah ... I didn't have time for that shit.  Who has time to think about being positive?  Get a hobby, people.

I have so much more I want to write and I wish I would have found the time to do so over the course of the month, but alas ... I must go to BURNING MAN!

Maybe next month should be "Do Less Stuff" and then I could blog more about ... doing ... nothing.

Meh.  It'll never happen.

Chaff

I love this challenge.  I love the shit out this challenge.  It's so cathartic and eye-opening and fun and other adjectives to go through drawers, closets, BASKETS, more drawers and closets, getting rid of the chaff.  Fuck you, chaff.

Chaff.

I had a 13" DVD/VHS TV collecting dust in my closet -- GONE.  I had 10's of VHS tapes sitting around in a box -- GONE.  I had an alarm clock that hadn't alerted anyone about anything in years -- GONE.  I had a stupid little Ikea lamp (I do not love lamp)  I couldn't find a regular-ass light bulb for -- GONE.  Gone baby, gone.

Farewell uncomfortable and/or ugly shoes.  You no longer have a place here.

Why you hurt my feet?

As luck would have it, getting rid of ugly/uncomfortable shoes provided extra storage space for important things like tutus and animal ears.

Burning Man, 2012!  It's on like Donkey Kong.
...
I've never really understood that expression. 
"A phrase to denote that it's time to throw down or compete at a high level; something is about to go down."
Thank you, Urban Dictionary (.com)

What else?  Military uniforms and combat boots galore.  Shipped off.  Not going to lie, those were toughies.  As we all have a tendency to look at the past through rose colored glasses, I have nothing but fond memories of my years in the Air Force.  I know there were some shitty times (there's a reason I got out, after all), but I don't remember what those shitty times entailed.  Still, it was time to let go.  Hanging on to a bunch of old clothes I'm never going to wear again is a bit silly.  I still have the memories, as well as plenty of other military-related paraphernalia hanging about.

My uncle, Johnny, is now the proud owner of the murder-death-kill cold weather parka and the rest went to the thrift store on Ft. Myer.

I did hang on to a couple of things...

I got something southerly you can watch.
(that's a terrible joke)

I had the pack made when I was in Saudi Arabia.  You gave them a BDU (that's "battle dress uniform", civilians) shirt and probably way too much money and they gave you an adorable pack in return.  That I've never used.  Ever.  Not even once.  But it sure does take up space nicely.  The desert boots still fit, are very comfortable and I can see them being useful in some sort of outdoor endeavor.  The green camo on the left (can you see it?) are Gortex pants, which I decided to pass off to the thrift store; someone will surely get more use out of them than I will.

Hooah, Air Force!

Progress, folks.  So much progress.

(Love this challenge!)

Today? Red Bull. Lots of Red Bull.

I wasn't feeling well last night and had a hard time coming up with something creative/interesting to photograph.  And, I'll be honest, I didn't try too hard.  So. Tired.  I did take 20 or so pictures, but they were all crap.

Instead of any of those, here is a silly picture I sent to The Stanley expressing my extreme (quiet, internal) excitement about our trip to Burning Man in 219 days.

Silent SQUEEEEEEEE!