Category Archives: Tuesday on the Soapbox

Anything from politics and current events to strange and beautiful life philosophies.

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Why Twilight ISN’T a Complete Waste of Paper

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Note: I am not and will never be a Twi-hard, but I am vested with a Bachelor of English degree, and am highly qualified to teach Language Arts up through high school.

There’s a lot of negativity surrounding the Twilight book series–most people seem to think it is a waste of time, a teenybopper’s read, perhaps, rather than true engrossing or enlightening fiction.  And for most people, Bella Swan is a huge Mary-Sue character (a character created more as the author’s fictional avatar rather than a character in her own right).

I admit, the book series was an interesting and yet not filling read for me, rather like eating cotton candy for dinner.  But I was 24 when I picked up the series, as a way to know what my middle-school students were reading, since almost all my students, male and female, were reading and enjoying the series.  If I had been 14 instead of 24 when I read Twilight, I would be a Twi-hard, and I freely acknowledge that.

Bella = Me at 14

Why would I have been a Twi-hard as a teen?  Because I WAS Bella Swan at 14.  I thought very little of myself; I considered myself to be nobody spectacular, nobody worth anyone else’s time.  I had unrequited crushes galore, a very unhealthy body image, and supremely low self-esteem.  These are all the things that Bella Swan suffers from, as a character.  I would have resonated with her like a plucked guitar string, at 14.

Hermione & Bella: Both Valid Pictures of Humanity


Image from Come Closer…Can You Hear It?

This recent viral image comparing Hermione and Bella brought this whole issue up for me, comparing the two female characters and heavily implying that Bella is a terrible female role model for young girls.  I disagree wholeheartedly.  Hermione depicts the heroic female; Bella depicts the depressive female.  BOTH are human, BOTH are realistic, and BOTH are necessary for young women to see, even if the latter is painful.

Yes, women and men ARE capable of being superhuman enough to push aside sloppy unwanted emotions, just like Hermione.  But we are also capable of wallowing in grief for years and doing highly irrational things, just like Bella.  To glorify the former way of living life and vilify the latter is to tell our children, “You have to be superhuman and smiling and wonderful ALL THE TIME, and do everything JUST RIGHT, or we won’t love you anymore.”  When we trivialize suffering in any form, we trivialize the human lives who are going through it. 

Suffering and its aftermath are natural to human existence, and every person reacts differently to it.  I had so many people tell me to “just think positive” while I was suffering depression this last time around, and their insensitive advice slapped me in the face.  “If it was that darned easy, I would have done it already,” I thought.  Sometimes, it’s just not possible to pull yourself out of the black tar pits of depression.  Sometimes, you just want to end the dim blankness of your life by finding a convenient cliff, as Bella tries to in New Moon. More important than Bella’s suicide attempt is the rush of support she gets afterward, and her willingness to finally accept that support instead of further isolating herself. THAT is what young women of today must see: that real people must support each other and accept support from others, not try to battle out their problems all alone.

Twilight: Not Just About Love, but About Depression (and Surviving It)

No, it’s not healthy to live your life as Bella does in much of the series, especially in New Moon.  Speaking of which, that book has the clearest and most cogent picture of depression I HAVE EVER SEEN IN LITERATURE.  Those pages with just the month names on them?  I’ve LIVED months like that, in the 16 years since I first began suffering depression myself.  I’ve LIVED like that, where nothing seemed to matter except the fact that I had no boyfriend, or the one I loved did not return my love, and time was nothing to me.  Real humans, at every stage and age of life, go through emotional crises just like Bella’s fictional one every day.  I bet either Stephenie Meyer herself or someone close to her has experienced depression–that’s how accurate the description was.

Bella’s story, as self-pitying and crazily emotional as it is, proves that you can rise from feeling like you’re nobody to becoming somebody, simply by discovering your own strengths and working to build on them.  By the end of Breaking Dawn, she has more confidence in her abilities, and her ability to mind-shield saves the lives of those she loves.  She does not start out as heroic as Hermione, but is encouraged to become heroic over the course of the four books.  She conquers depression slowly, painfully, and with a lot of help from family and friends, just like real depression sufferers do.

Bella as a Picture of Realistic Human Insecurity

Bella may not be a strong character emotionally, but she is perfectly human; she is insecurity personified, and haven’t we all been insecure at one time, especially in our teenage years?  To repudiate her character is to repudiate our own human suffering as a valid part of growing up.  We all went through our whiny years, our emo years, perhaps.  To pretend we’ve always been as strong as we are now is to LIE to ourselves.  Bella, by being a weak, unstable, and uncomfortable heroine, reminds us of where we’ve been, or perhaps where we are; she evolves slowly into a character faintly resembling Hermione, whose strength, stability, and confidence reminds us of what we can become.  Most of us, however, are stuck between the two archetypal extremes, and there is no shame in that, either.

We Don’t Need to Get Rid of the Bellas in Our Society

I don’t like much of the negative commentary about the books, mainly because the trash-talking transcends the books and begins railing about the concept of REAL PEOPLE who behave like Bella and how worthless they are to human society (focusing on Twi-hards young and old).  This is dangerous territory, full of logical fallacies, and it threatens to turn us into a modern Sparta, getting rid of the “weak” ones.  As if the “strong” ones are the only humans who deserve to live! 

I’m one of the weak ones, and I freely admit it.  I am not emotionally strong, not #1 at anything, and I’m certainly not unbreakable.  I whine, I retreat into myself when I’m sad, and I suffer out loud.  Sorry if that makes me unworthy to live in the anti-Twilight superhuman world, where everyone’s happy and smiling and wonderful at absolutely everything, and never have pain or suffering of any sort (at least, not any that they would be willing to ADMIT). 

But I do contribute art and help others, because I’m sympathetic and sensitive.  I serve a purpose.  That sensitivity makes me a much more generous and caring person as much as it makes me weaker to pain and emotional upsets. I’m worth something even if I’m not a shining hero.

The Bellas in our society may not be the most uplifting people to be around all the time, but they also balance the strong and silent types.  Bella’s character structure proves that even though humans can feel weak, they are able to change and grow like the organisms they are, and become stronger over time.  Where I come from, it’s called “growing up.”

Conclusion:  Twilight Serves a Purpose

It may not be the best literature ever produced, technically speaking.  Heck, maybe it was written for money more than love.  And for certain, it’s not a super-challenging academic read.  But it serves a purpose: it is a highly-relatable story with a central character who is more human than most critics would ever attempt to acknowledge.  And it is a story of how an everywoman becomes something slightly more, which is along the lines of just about every Disney Princess movie ever made.  We all want to feel that we are bound for something a little greater than what we are now; the Twilight series lets us realize that just as much as the Harry Potter series or any other literature out there. The series gives hope to those who might be ready to jump off a cliff, like Bella.

End Note for Those Who Aren’t Convinced

If you still think the Twilight series is a waste of time, nobody’s forcing the books into your hands.  Let those who enjoy it do so, without judging them; if you feel that you can write better and more fulfilling literature, then do so, and market it so that other people who want to read more enlightening literature may enjoy it. There’s a place for all books in today’s literary world, and a place for all preferences.

And if your kids like the book series and you don’t approve of them reading it, talk to them about why you believe it’s not appropriate. Combat the negative influences that you see in the book by actually interfacing with your children and showing them books to read that you believe to be better for them.  Whining about how “society/literature/TV/music/etc. are going to trash” isn’t solving anything. You must make the choices that you believe are responsible for YOUR life, and through that action start the change you would like to see.

Tuesday on the Soapbox

The Random Language I Speak

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Made-up words seem to run in our family. From my grandfather’s description of a car accident as “kaloom-bam-boom” to my parents’ word for the bits of sock fabric that always get left on the carpet (“sock doobies”), I guess I get the “creative words” gene honest. English is more fun when you can invent words, I believe. 🙂

Nevertheless, it always surprises people when one of my made-up words pops out of my mouth during a conversation. And I’m usually embarrassed by it at first–somehow, I fear I’ll get sent to the loony bin for some of the random stuff I come up with! But we always end up laughing about it.

Therefore, I will be brave and share some of the random language I speak, so that you, too, may LOL. 🙂

Made-Up Words and Family Slang

From My Dad’s Side

  • “kaloom-bam-boom” – a huge accident or fail of some sort (doesn’t have to be car-related).
  • “scooter-pootin'” – moving around continuously
  • “buke” (“bu” pronounced like “boo”) – to have an accidental bowel movement
  • “buuck” (not a typo) – to gag, especially over nasty-tasting food
  • “lamm” – to strike repeatedly and forcefully. “He’s just lammin’ that nail, ain’t he?”
  • “Big Ike” – overconfident person
  • “floof” – to suddenly fall flat on someone or on an object
  • “sherp” – to knock one’s feet out from under him (imitating the sound of such an action)
  • “sugarpoot”/”sugars**t” – an affectionate pet name for a child (why? I have no idea)
  • “asslin’ around” – wasting time, procrastinating (very descriptive 😛 )
  • “rhino”/”rhinoceros” – a big butt (like mine, lols)
  • “june around” – try to get a lot of things done as quick as possible
  • “tooters” – feet
  • “blomp” – to walk with slow and heavy steps
  • “braish broom” – yard-cleaning broom made of twigs, also used for the occasional whooping
  • “mazoozalum” – Grandma Daisy’s pronunciation of “mausoleum”
  • “klunk-plink-plink” – Nannie’s opinion of some pianists’ choppy playing styles
  • “pipe-stem legs” – very thin legs

From My Immediate Family

  • “moosh” – to kill or maim an insect; to massage.
  • “goopie” – a tiny, gross object, usually on the floor (bit of chewed food, unidentifiable sticky stuff, etc.)
  • “nidgy” – itty-bitty raveled thread (pill) on clothing
  • “fuzzbunny” – small ball of lint, usually ends up everywhere

My Own Made-Up Words from Childhood

  • “wootburgers” – strictly better than just a side of wootsauce.
  • “cubbyhouse” – a kid-size plastic or wood playhouse.
  • “giggling” – my kidlike pronunciation of “wiggling”, for whatever reason
  • “steamin’ alligator” – somebody who’s doing stuff just to tick me off
  • “beat-buttin'” – a particularly harsh (and usually deserved) whoopin’

Jim-ese

Since my great-uncle Jim was deaf and read lips, he often tried to speak the words he read others saying; he also made unintentionally hilarious commentary on how others spoke, as well.

  • “lotha” – translation of “nothing.” But “lotha” became synonymous with even less than nothing in our family. If you have nothing, you have zero, but if you have “lotha,” you don’t even have zero, if that makes any sense. LOL
  • “blellup” – believed to mean something like “hogwash”. Might have been Jim’s translation for “bulls**t”, but we’re not sure.
  • “jhi-jhi-jhi-jhi-jhu!” – only said to a baby, in “baby talk” voice. Like “goochy-goochy-goo.”
  • “rihbun” – pronunciation of my name.
  • “Jhalopy” – pronunciation of the city name “Shelby.”
  • “Gaffaley” – pronunciation of the city name “Gaffney.”
  • “Boola Sha-prings” – pronunciation of the town name “Boiling Springs.”
  • “mih-mih-mih!” – (said very quickly) brusque or angry talking.
  • “bipbipbipbipbip” – fast talking, a cigarette bobbing up and down in between someone’s lips as they talk, or never-ending talking.
  • “Bih…bih…bih!” – slow and deliberate talking (usually describing Grandma Daisy with a lip full of snuff)

Does Your Family Have Any Funny Made-Up Language?

We can’t be the only ones! LOL! If this post reminds you of some of the funny language in your own family, tell me about it in the comments.

Tuesday on the Soapbox

The Ethanol Swindle

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If you’ve pulled up to a gas pump recently, you might have noticed a little sign either on the pump or nearby: “Gas Contains 10% Ethanol,” or “This station includes ethanol in all grades of gasoline sold here.” While most people might not take notice of it, I do–and it angers me every time I see it, because I know I’m getting swindled.

Wait, What?

Yes, I said “swindled.” Ethanol is included in just about every station’s gas these days, but I have consistently found that it reduces my fuel economy by nearly 3 mpg (from 28 to 25-26). And I’m still having to pay for it as if it’s pure gas–I only get maybe 2 cents off per gallon compared to pure gas. If that’s not a swindle, I don’t know what is.

What Is Ethanol, Anyway?

According to Wikipedia, ethanol is a corn-based fuel, meant for “flexible-fuel” vehicles, but in low concentrations (10% or lower), it’s seemingly safe to mix in with regular gasoline.

But I Thought Ethanol Was a “Greener” Choice?

Well, it kinda is and it kinda isn’t. It’s not a fossil fuel like pure gasoline, sure. And yes, it uses corn, a somewhat more “renewable resource.” But it also burns less efficiently than pure gas does in a gas-designed car, therefore reducing the MPG you get per tank. Also, growing corn solely for producing ethanol would reduce land area for growing food.

Wikipedia’s article, linked above, says that ethanol only reduces mileage by 3%, but I believe it’s much higher than that, since my little Ford Focus ZX3 gets only 25-26 city MPG with ethanol-infused gas, and 28 city MPG with pure gas. (I’ve tested it several times, accounting for tire pressure, driving habits, and other car maintenance; the only difference is the fuel, and that same 2-3 MPG difference shows up every time I have to buy ethanol fuel.) This is the equivalent of feeding my kid nothing but fruit and Chinese noodles; an hour later the kid is hungry again (and I would be, too).

Now, a few say that ethanol is cleaner for air and better for environment, which it may indeed be if we all switch over to vehicles that can use pure ethanol, perhaps. But an overwhelming majority of the articles I read in my research attest that ethanol, especially when blended into otherwise pure gas, is not a cost-saving or environment-saving maneuver.

For instance, Cato.org reports that ethanol will make us use more crop land, is more expensive than gas, will actually raise gas prices, is not renewable, increases smog, and costs more to produce. The New York Times seconds that assessment, and the Washington Post thirds it, with recounts of people’s negative experiences with using ethanol, especially in small engines like lawnmowers. The Washington Post’s article even mentions power equipment failing when given ethanol-infused fuel!

The Most Infuriating Thing

Not only is ethanol bad for little engines and raising costs of ethanol-blended fuel due to subsidies, but it also is just as expensive as pure gas, at least around my hometown.

Though the article I just linked to says that ethanol gas is often 25-40 cents cheaper per gallon than pure gas, I have not found that to be the case. Between the pure-gas and the ethanol-gas sellers, there’s only usually a 2-3 cent difference between the two, and that’s in many places in and near my hometown. Same money, less MPG. What does R-I-P-O-F-F spell?

How Can We Change This?

I know that we need to have an energy economy less dependent on fossil fuels, and we need to have fuels that don’t clog and smog the air up. But there’s got to be something out there besides adding something to gasoline that makes the mileage go DOWN, making demand for gasoline go UP and usage go UP. Plus, there’s got to be a way to protect smaller engines–since pure gas is so hard to find these days, I have to buy ethanol-infused gas, and I don’t want to have to pay for an expensive engine repair later because of it. I don’t know squat about economics or resource management, but adding ethanol seems a little counterintuitive when you consider these effects.

Personally, till we can figure out what to do about ethanol gas, I’m going to seek out the few non-ethanol-infused gas stations near me (pure-gas.org has a list of all the pure-gas sellers all across America), and try to keep my little car fueled with satisfying real gas. Maybe if enough of us raise a fuss about it, something will get done!

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Funny and AWESOME Dreams

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Since I did a post a few weeks ago about a few horrible nightmares I’ve had, I thought it only right to balance it with the following post about some of the funniest or most wonderful dreams I’ve had.

Indeed, my brain does bless me with some vivid happier or funnier dreams on occasion, which are (thankfully) just as memorable (and just as emotional) as some of my nightmares have been. For example:

Suddenly, I’m a Judo Master

One night very recently, I dreamed that I was out on the town one evening with my boyfriend’s mother and a good friend of mine from high school, who had her new baby son with her. As we were walking back to our cars from the restaurant we had just left, three guys jumped out from an alleyway and tried to mug us.

We were all ready to give them all the money we had, until one of the muggers swiped at my friend’s son, trying to tear him from her arms. Then all heck broke loose, and the three of us started kicking butt. My boyfriend’s mom was swinging this giant purple pocketbook around hitting the guys upside their heads, and my friend was protecting her son in one arm and punching each of them in the gut super-fast with the other arm. And I was throwing the muggers around, knocking ’em into each other and into walls and stuff (kinda judo-ish, but not really).

After a few minutes of us whooping up on them, the guys ran off without our money, cussing and limping. The three of us high-fived, and I woke up. XD

…And Apparently I’m a Dance Teacher, Too

A few years ago I had a dream about being abducted by aliens. It was the whole typical setup–weird noise outside my house, I go out to see what it is, and I get yanked up into this very very bright light. But when I arrived in the spaceship, the aliens (looking just like the ones in the movies, little skinny greenish-white beings with big black eyes) didn’t know what to do with me. They just stood around and tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t understand them.

I’m not sure how or why this happened, but I started teaching them how to do the Funky Chicken. (They were hopeless students, by the way, all flailing arms and legs and no rhythm. Worse than Elaine off Seinfeld. LOL) And after we had finally successfully danced for a while, they let me go, and I woke up.

…Yeah, I have NO idea. But it did give me a good laugh upon waking! 😛

Getting Interviewed for Books I Ain’t Written Yet

A few months back, I dreamed I was on a talk show that seemed like a combination of Tavis Smiley, Charlie Rose, and North Carolina Bookwatch–it was definitely a public-television talk show, but I didn’t recognize the well-dressed older man that was the host, nor did I recognize the name of the show (which I promptly forgot after I woke up).

The host asked me about my novel SERIES (mind, my first novel isn’t even complete yet as of right now), and he asked me to answer critics’ comments about some of the harder truths I had depicted in my novels. I spoke from a literary-critic point of view myself, and talked about trying to capture some of what had gone on in real-world historical events within my fictional world.

After I had finished answering the questions, the host said he was really pleased with how I was willing to dissect my own books, and that he appreciated writers who took time to research to make a good book. Afterward, I went to a random book-signing outside the studio, and there were TONS of fans there–some were even dressed up like my main character! :O I woke up right in the middle of the book-signing, and for a few minutes I was thinking I had to get to another interview. LOL

The Random Rock Concert In the Middle of a Choral Concert

I dreamed a few nights ago about singing with my local Choral Society group. In the middle of the applause from the formal, sacred music we had just finished singing, our fairly straightlaced choral director turned around where he stood at the podium, as if to acknowledge the audience. But instead, he suddenly broke into the chorus of “Come On Feel The Noize” by Quiet Riot, headbanging and fist-pumping like the best 80’s hair band singer.

We, the choir, stood there kinda shocked for a few seconds, and then we randomly joined in singing with him. The audience went absolutely NUTS, jumping out of their seats, screaming and cheering, and forming a mosh pit below the sedately decorated stage. To add to the mood, somebody in the sound and light booth turned down the stage lights and turned on these lights that threw sparkling multicolored dashes of light all around the walls. And once we got done singing it once, we started it again–all a cappella, no instruments or anything. Random party in my head! (and yes, I did wake up headbanging along to it. XD)

And Finally: My Son (Who Isn’t Even Thought Of Yet) Walks to Daddy

(This one made me cry happy tears upon waking.)

I dream I am standing at a living room window, watching a few cars drive into the driveway, and I feel a little tug at my shirt hem. “Mommy, they here yet? They here yet?” says a little voice.

I lean down to this little boy–he’s about two–and say, “Yeah, they just came in. Want to go open the door for them?”

“Naaah,” he says, hugging my leg. He is suddenly very, very shy. I go over and open the front door, and several close friends come in, all excited to meet this little boy, who I now realize (within the dream) is my son. Even my boyfriend’s older brother comes to see him, and they all gather in the living room, wanting my son to show them how he’s learned to walk. But he won’t walk in front of them–he’s shy and a little nervous.

This whole time, I’m seeing how much he resembles my boyfriend–same dark, glossy hair, same facial structure, and same skinny little arms and legs. He’s so fragile-looking that I’m suddenly afraid to let him walk on his own, for fear he’ll fall and hurt himself. And while I’m pondering all this, our friends are encouraging him to walk over to them, and he keeps shaking his head…until he looks toward the kitchen doorway. His eyes light up, and he says, definitively, “DADA!”

Then, with very deliberate, slow steps, my son walks straight towards the kitchen doorway, straight toward my boyfriend, and hugs his leg as if he’ll never let his daddy go. My boyfriend sweeps him up into his arms, a loving smile lighting his face, and the likeness between father and son is uncanny–tears fill my eyes. Then, my little boy looks back toward the roomful of people (including me) and grins this really big, cheesy grin; it’s the first smile he’s given that reminds me of myself, and the dream ends there.

The Role of Good Dreams

Each of these dreams left me pumped, in a good mood, and ready to face the day, much more so than my nightmares. My nightmares just propelled me out of bed; my awesome dreams left me feeling so much more positive about my life. I think that’s one reason we have dreams like these–keep us happy and wanting to wake up and live again. At least, that’s what these five dreams (as well as all the other great ones I’ve had over the years) have done for me.

Have You Ever Had Dreams Like These?

Just wondering if these dreams of mine remind you of any you’ve had. Leave me a comment and tell me! 🙂

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Battle of the Beauty Purge, Completed

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Last week I wrote about my massive beauty-product purge, ranging from shampoos and conditioners to lipstick and fragrance and everything in between.

This week, I will show you the fruits of that (very very hard) labor, in the form of a much nicer bathroom. Not just showing makeup products, but ALL of the products I reduced and condensed, and the total effect that had on my bathroom.

What Remained After the Purge

Makeup

About four years ago, I quit wearing full-face makeup all the time. Not coincidentally, I started dating my awesome boyfriend of win around that time–as we got to know each other, I found myself not feeling the need to wear much makeup around him, because he was always so positive about my appearance. When we purged the bathroom, I realized I didn’t need all the random makeup I was hoarding; either it was out-of-date, the wrong colors, or it just wasn’t necessary anymore. Thus, my collection was edited waaaaay down, into what you see below.


Clockwise from top left: New York Color Color Wheel Mosaic Powders in Translucent Highlighter Glow (top left) and Pink Cheek Glow (top right); E.L.F. Bronzer in Sun Kissed; Clinique Superpowder Double Face Makeup in Matte Ivory

True story–these four products are all that I use for face makeup these days. (Concealer has either never worked right or I never learned how to apply it without it looking blotchy and fake, so I don’t bother buying it anymore. And I find that the Superpowder does a fair job of covering most flaws anyway. ^_^) The bronzer, blush, and translucent powder over top gives me a naturally-finished look without taking too long.


From left: Revlon Illuminance Creme Shadow in Precious Metals; New York Color Metro Quarter Eye Shadow in South Street Seaport; CoverGirl Eye Enhancers in Drama Eyes #222 (left) and Tropical Fusion* #205 (right). Eye pencil (between the eye palettes) is New York Color Kohl Brow/Eyeliner Pencil in Jet Black.
*unsure of exact product name

Just these four eye palettes make it possible to mix nearly any color I want without having to buy every single shade. I can make a dark green, for instance, by taking the teal shade and adding a little black and a little brown; I can make a light purple by mixing the dark burgundy, the dark blue, and a little white. And, of course, they are all lovely shades to wear on their own. (The cream shadows, at far left, are great highlighters or bases, depending on what I need–they show up darker in this picture than they really are.)


From left: CoverGirl Wetslicks in Shimmershell; L.A. Colors Glossy Lips in Jammin’ Jelly; Neutrogena MoistureShine glosses in Healthy Blush (left) and Berry (right); New York Color lipstick in Ruby #305; Beauty Innovations lip palette, unknown name.

I reduced my lip makeup collection SEVERELY. These are all the lipsticks I own now, and they, like the eye products, can be mixed together to get the precise shade I’m after. I prefer glossier/smoother textures, and so most of my collection focuses around that.

The Glossy Lips gloss (second from left) is not really that dark, by the way–see it in the light, below:

Bath Products


From nearly a tubful of bottles, we shrunk my impressive shampoo collection down to this small drawer; we got rid of at least 150 shampoo bottles to condense it down to what I really use and like. I’ve got four basic formulas I like: light conditioning, heavy conditioning, super-cleansing, and volumizing. Thus, each of the bottles in this drawer does one of the four functions.


Since I hate having the “extra step” of conditioning in the shower every day, I have considerably fewer conditioners. Most of these conditioners match a super-cleansing or light conditioning shampoo.


I kid you not, we got rid of over 50 different shower gel bottles, and now I have room to spare in this little drawer. I generally like clearer, less-creamy shower gels with light fragrances, so that’s largely what my small collection is about. (I’m also in the process of phasing out shower gels in favor of scented bar soaps, which last longer and are cheaper.)

Fragrances


Okay, okay, I admit it, I like body sprays and scented stuff. And maaaaaybe I could stand to reduce this just a touch more. But considering that we hauled out 2 big black trash bags full of nothing but old perfume bottles… 🙂


I had been storing my sprays and lotions alongside my shower gels in that little drawer. But the drawer was way too small to hold all that awesome in it, and I was always forgetting to use the sprays because they were hidden away. Thus, I got this white-painted metal spice rack from Walmart for about 10 bucks, to create a “fragrance display” in my bathroom.


See? Looks a lot better than them just sitting out on the counter in a big conglomerate mess. (Oh, and the sprig of blue flowers beside them is there just ’cause it’s pretty. ^o^)

Hair Notions and Jewelry

I usually have longer hair most of the time, so I have tons of scrunchies, clips, and smooth bands to craft it into “cool hair,” as my boyfriend describes it. But in order to get my collection into a more manageable size, I had to edit and toss a bunch of stuff.


This is my much-reduced selection of bigger hair notions–I used to have about 3,000 of those big hair clips back in the day. LOL…


…but I still have a ton of little hair notions in the form of tiny clips and bands. What can I say, it’s a work in progress!


And these are all the smaller scrunchies that wouldn’t fit on my big ole scrunchie rack.

“Scrunchie rack?” you say. “What’s a scrunchie rack?”

THIS:


It was a hand-towel rack. I saw the unique, flattened “S” shape of the rack, below…


…and I thought, “Hey, I think I could thread my scrunchies onto that.” So I repurposed it…


…like so. It might look like a confusion of fabric (and it kinda is), but there’s organization there. Now I can see all the scrunchies at once and pick one off fairly easily.

Speaking of racks, here’s the slightly-Asian-inspired jewelry rack I picked up on clearance from Walmart:


Where once my jewelry was in scattered bags all over the house, now it has a permanent (and pretty) home in the bathroom, safely away from hungry sink drains. Awwwh yeah.

Other Items

When I said my boyfriend and I cleaned the bathroom, we cleaned out EVERYTHING and made space for EVERYTHING that was left. Like my soap/razors/hair products drawer:


Uh, yeah, this is slightly still a work in progress. But at least I always know where the soap is now, instead of having to dig through 4 cabinets and 2 drawers!


That’s right, I dedicated a whole bathroom drawer to brushes. And yes, I do use every single one of them, depending on styling needs. No more knocking stuff off the cabinet tops to find that one stinkin’ brush that’s hiding from me!


And because I had no set place for my toothbrushes, cough drops, bandages, etc, I dedicated the drawer on the other side of the sink to hold such supplies. It’s the unofficial “medicine cabinet.” (And yes, I regularly need that many Band-Aids. I am one of the clumsiest, most accident-prone people ever. The first-aid companies <3 me.)

The Proudest Achievement: Organization in the Bathroom

First off, this thing rocks my socks.

It only stands about a foot or so tall, but held within it is all my makeup (top two drawers) and most of my hair notions (bottom three drawers).


Face stuff (plus a few beauty tools)…


…and everything else makeup-y. See? It all fits!

Combine that with the awesomeness of the racks holding my jewelry, fragrances, and scrunchies, and you get this:

…I’m finally bathroom-proud. It may not be the best-looking, it may still be in progress, but I’m using the space a lot better than I ever did before.

And LOOK! I can see the color of the countertops!! That, in itself, is a massive achievement. 😀 😀 😀

Tuesday on the Soapbox

The Massive Beauty-Product Purge

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I’ll admit it, I’m an OCD hoarder. If you could see my bedroom…well, maybe it’s best if I don’t post such traumatizing, disturbing pictures of disorganization and junk stacks on the Internet. (LOL) And besides notebooks, scraps of paper, and purses, I have also hoarded beauty products most of my life. Hey, having it at home is better than having to go out and buy it, right?

…WRONG. When your bathroom countertops overflow into the sink and onto the floor on a regular basis, and the under-sink cabinets are stuffed full of products whose bottles have ruptured and/or otherwise leaked, you know you’re in trouble.

Yet I let it lie like this for years, stymied, paralyzed. I couldn’t do anything with the junk, even the junk I KNEW was junk, because…well, if I got rid of it, and then I needed it later, I’d have to go out and re-buy it. Torture.

The Breaking Point

The stalemate between me and the growing mess finally broke one spring afternoon in 2011, when I was, ahem, otherwise occupied in the bathroom and had nothing better to do than to stare at the mess covering the countertops.

As I watched, a series of large perfume bottles (Bath and Body Works-sized) slid slowly into the sink, piling up on top of each other like a fragrance avalanche. The noise and rumbling of the perfume bottles set off a couple of smaller avalanches of facial wipes boxes, soap containers, and shampoo bottles, cascading into the floor like so many mountain boulders.

My first instinctive thought was, “…REALLY?” I’d dealt with the mess associated with hoarding most of my life, but I’d never seen a mess move on its own, not like this, anyway.

This had to stop. It was no longer just an innocuous pile on countertops, but a threatening mass that was making it impossible for me to use my own bathroom space, let alone anybody who dared to come into the house. This…HAD to stop. It was beauty-product madness.

The War Begins

My first volley in the war on beauty clutter was to rid myself of all the obviously expired products–all the stuff that had mold growing on it, had exploded, or was otherwise unsuitable for putting on my face or body anymore.

My awesome boyfriend proved his love ten times over by helping me with all of it, since it hurts a lot for me to squat down and/or stand in one place for very long. (He is awesome, focused, logical man, especially when this little bird gets overtired and cranky.) Together, we unloaded the overstuffed cabinets into trash bag after trash bag, discovering the following gems in the process:

  • a can of prehistoric hair spray (kidding–it was only from 1996…I think)
  • several crushed shower gel bottles
  • dozens and dozens of dusty, gummy little-girl hair scrunchies
  • more sanitary pads than the world’s women will ever need
  • three cream-to-powder foundation palettes which had some kind of horrible splotchy mold on them
  • a hoard of toothpaste tubes, which were keeping one of the cabinet drawers from opening AND closing
  • a vial of liquid foundation that was literally puke-green in color. It used to be the color of my face, about ten years ago.
  • one shampoo bottle that had apparently become volatile and EXPLODED, leaving green slime all over most of the cabinet’s inventory
  • a can of brown spray paint that had somehow “eaten” itself and rusted almost completely away. (We were both like, “WHAT is this BROWN POWDER in this CABINET?!” And the smell…*UGH*)

The Hardest Part: Purging What Was “Still Good”

Once we got rid of the obvious trash, which was fairly easy, I faced the largest obstacle: getting rid of stuff that still had life in it, was still usable.

For me, getting rid of still-usable stuff is hard, because I look at the pile of stuff I’m getting rid of and think “wasted money.” It makes me literally sick to think of all the dollars going out the door in trash bags. Thus, another reason why I hoard, I guess.

I started having real trouble with it, was almost too daunted to keep going, until my boyfriend said, “Honestly, honey, how long has it been since you used it? If it makes you happier to keep it, please go ahead–but this doesn’t look like it’s been touched in years.”

My instant argument back was, “Well, I would have used it if I could have FOUND it in this mess!”

“True,” he replied, “but do you have anything that does exactly the same function?”

He had a point. In some cases, I did have something (or several somethings) that fulfilled exactly the same function (like the 7 nail clippers–I wish that was a jest). Knowing that part of my junk problem lay in having multiple copies of the same item was an important key in getting over my attachment to the items I’d bought.

In the case of the nail clippers, I kept 3 of the 7, because one was a specific, larger toenail clipper, one was regular nail clippers, and one was an itty-bitty nail clipper/file combo that I put into my purse. The other 4 went away–2 got given away, and 2, we found, were irreparably broken/rusted anyway, so they were trashed.

Systematically, we hunted through all the stuff. Endless iterations of Night-Blooming Jasmine shower gel and perfume (which I stockpiled because B&BW only offers it twice a year), 10 different Clinique compacts of pressed powder, literal hundreds of lip glosses…all were evaluated, condensed, and the excess removed. (We found that 4 of the jasmine perfume bottles were all just alcohol anyway…no fragrance smell remained. SAD)

The Aftermath

By the time the organizing carnage was (mostly) over, my bathroom cabinets were cleared; their interiors were empty and dusted out, left to air out overnight after long years of being shut away in shame. The countertops were also cleaned and polished up, and new systems of organization went into place atop them, showcasing my jewelry, my fragrance bottles, and my impressive scrunchie collection (hey, I grew up in the 90s, all right?). I also FINALLY had a place for all my makeup–at least, what remained of the huge collection I had (but more about that later).

At last, after years of getting ready (somehow) amid a torrent of products, my bathroom had become a true lady’s dressing room and ablutions room. I finally had room for everything, and everything that I had was stuff I was really going to use and really enjoyed, from shampoos and conditioners to fragrances, from powders to lipsticks and everything in between.

Next Week: The Makeup Survivors

Next week, I’m going to show what remains of the massive collection of old makeup we cleaned out. I went from several LARGE zippered bags of makeup to two tiny drawers-full in a five-drawer countertop organizer…unbelievable as it sounds!

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Let’s Stop Throwing Tantrums and Calling Names

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Watching the political situation erupt in America is like watching kindergartners fight on the playground. Well, except for one major difference: there are more public tantrums, controversial angry statements, and name-calling than any 5-year-old could dream up.

Whatever political party you affiliate yourself with, or even if you are no political party (probably due to this very phenomenon), it is embarrassing for all of us. Who wants to be represented by people who can’t get along long enough to talk like grownups, when that’s what they’re being PAID to do?

Is Politics Even About Leadership Anymore?

The upcoming election in November has only heightened the tensions between the two dominant parties. Mitt Romney has already said that the reason he wants to win is to defeat Barack Obama. The words came straight from him: all he wants to do is beat a political rival, not lead the country, not get us out of the economic mess we’ve been mired in since 2006 (at least!).

I think that’s a very telling statement; it reveals how at least one candidate views politics, and as you survey the rest of the political field, the adversarial attitude between conservatives and liberals seems to be a popular view these days. Politics, if you look at federal Congress all the way down to local levels, is no longer about being a public servant, but about being a victor in the public eye. It’s no longer about solving national problems, but about who can tell the best story and garner the most attention so they get elected or reelected.

This is shameful, and it’s not right. Why bother having politicians at all, if this is how they’re going to act? Why bother electing people to lead, if they are going to ignore the duty we chose them for? Politics has turned into a zoo, complete with people throwing verbal excrement at each other, often just as much within their own party as across party lines.

Republicans and Democrats: More like a Dysfunctional Couple than True Enemies

This may sound strange to some, but I view the vitriolic back-and-forth between Republicans/conservatives and Democrats/liberals as the fighting between a dysfunctional, long-married couple.

Picture this: they’ve lived together for so long that the smallest flaws in the other person irritate them to death; they spend their days together angrily hashing and rehashing the same old issues and never getting anywhere on them. And don’t forget, both of them go to bed mad on a regular basis.

Neither person is interested in hearing the other’s point of view anymore. Neither one is interested, really, in resolving the conflict between them. The conflict has become a Conflict, with a capital C, that defines their very lives; it’s gone on for so long that it has become normal and accepted behavior. Any of this sounding familiar yet?

I believe both major American political parties have fallen into this trap with each other. There’s almost no listening going on between the two parties, but there’s a whole lot of negative comments and blanket generalizations about the other party flying around each camp. What was it I saw on Facebook a couple of nights ago from a conservative poster? “Well, all LIBS want ‘respect’ and wave the race card at you when you don’t give it.”

Generalizations -> Stereotypes -> Prejudices

These kinds of generalizations, stereotypes, and prejudices against each other get us absolutely nowhere. Once you start thinking of another person (or another party) in absolutes, like “He always forgets to pick up his **** socks off the floor!” or “They always want big government and big spending!”, then your perception of that person/party becomes one-dimensional. Soon enough, their flaws and your own prejudices are all you see.

I’m guilty of this myself; for years, I thought of conservatives in just the same negative way. I hated their “closed-minded religion” instead of true Jesus-following beliefs; I hated their defiant “God, guns and anti-gay” platform; I hated how they preached of tolerance while being intolerant of others. As a nearly-closeted liberal in an increasingly conservative town, county, region, and state, I felt personally attacked and marginalized by these beliefs. Because this was how I believed all conservatives acted, I feared the ones living near me.

But I’ve come to realize that not all conservatives believe or act this way. I was largely led astray by the sound bites I heard in the media, and it wasn’t until I actually was friends with real-life conservatives that I began to see the varying degrees of political belief within parties, and realize it in myself as well.

Instead of Letting the Aisle in Congress Divide Us, Let it Unite Us

I’m not saying that all the members of Congress should literally marry somebody of the other party (though that would be kinda funny). What I mean is that instead of throwing things across the aisle at each other, maybe we should commit to “walk down the Congress aisle” together, pledging not “till death do us part,” but “till compromise shall we listen.” Maybe conservatives and liberals should try to work things out more like a married couple would instead of like bitter enemies.

America is a diverse nation, full of vastly different opinions and ways of life; of course we’re going to disagree. I may not understand why conservatives believe as they do; they may not understand why I, as a liberal, believe as I do. But at least I should be willing to sit down, listen respectfully, and compromise where necessary. As long as we keep trying to legislate without listening, we are NEVER, EVER, EVER going to get anywhere, just as a married couple who keeps shouting over each other will never solve their argument.

We Need Each Other–We’re ALL Humans!

Conservatives and liberals need each other to survive, to serve as checks and balances for each other. That’s why the legislative, judicial, and executive branches of government even exist in the first place: to make sure the government and all its employees are making balanced decisions that take into account all possible outcomes and effects. The duality of the political parties is no accident; each needs the other to keep them from going overboard in either direction.

At least, that was how it was supposed to work. The way Congress is behaving these days, I wonder if any of them listened in civics class. And I thought handling 30 middle-schoolers at a time was rough; I would not want President Obama’s job right now. 30 surly 13-year-olds are not fun to deal with, but I think over 100 stubborn Congressmen and women might be just a wee bit more difficult to handle.

If we can get over the stereotypes and prejudices each party has against the other, we might just be able to solve the huge problems our nation is facing. If not…well, we’ll have to resign ourselves to more years and decades of failures before we learn. All the roses and flowers in the world won’t solve this. It will take heartfelt communication, and then, if we’re lucky, compromise and hope afterwards.

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Tales from the Picky Eater’s Plate

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As my parents could probably tell you, I’ve been a picky eater as long as I can remember (and probably even before that). One of the first coherent thoughts I expressed aloud, as a child, was “Don’t want. Not good. Bad taste.” XD

My relationship with certain types of food, therefore, has been a tenuous one. Most vegetables and “healthy” food has instead tasted horribly bitter to me–and I don’t think I’m alone in that. Not only that, I experience aversions to certain food textures as well, which I’ll elaborate on in a moment–and I’m also not the only one to be particular about food textures. Some consider it a mild eating disorder, some think it’s part of a sensory disorder, and others are simply talking about their own food texture hates.

Through my growing-up years and into adulthood, I have kept trying new foods that contain the ingredients I didn’t like. But I often find myself spitting out the non-favorite food anyway, either voluntarily into a napkin or involuntarily (gagging and sometimes even throwing up). This is not an entitlement issue–it’s actually quite restricting to my diet, and makes it 3 times more complicated when I have to order things specially made, or have to do “surgery” on a meal to remove all the crap I’m not going to touch.

Example: People don’t realize how lettuce and tomato flavors RUIN a burger, for instance–you can take the lettuce leaf and tomato slice off, but the bitter juices remain, tainting the bun, cheese slice and meat patty beneath, not to speak of all the condiments you lose in the “burger surgery” process. And if I ask for lettuce and tomato to be removed, I still have to pay regular price for it; I’m basically paying for lettuce and tomato I don’t want and don’t get. NOT fair, much?

When I have tried to explain my particular food tastes to others, the general consensus is that if “I’d just try it, I’d like it.” But I don’t like wasting money on food I just flat won’t eat. And, most of the time, I have tried these foods, and I still didn’t like them, or I experienced such a violent negative reaction to them that it’s not worth it. It seems my taste buds are very particular, and though I’d like to get healthy and eat “healthy,” most of the good-for-me foods don’t even taste like food to me.

Non-Favorite Foods

Vegetables

  • Tomatoes
  • Carrots
  • Corn
  • Mushrooms
  • Onions
  • Lettuce (especially Iceberg lettuce)
  • Olives
  • Broccoli (if not cooked in anything)
  • Spinach (if not drowned out with cheese)
 Fruits

  • Pineapples
  • Apples
  • Oranges (if left whole)
  • Bananas
  • Strawberries (if left whole)
  • Cherries
  • Peaches
 Meats

  • Steak
  • Bacon
  • Southern-style barbecue
  • Most seafood
  • Fatty bits hanging on any meat product
 Desserts/Snacks

  • Chocolate in too large a quantity
  • Twinkies
  • Shredded coconut
  • Anything drowning in grease/fat
  • Yogurt

How This Stuff Tastes to Me

  • Broccoli and spinach are only good mashed up in casseroles with loads of cheese on top so I can’t really taste ’em. Otherwise, they both taste like crunchy grass. (As in, I eat it and I’m tempted to moo afterwards.)
  • Chunky chopped tomatoes/whole tomatoes taste like acidic water and soil, and nothing else. And the texture is nasty as well–slippery and slidy in my mouth, dodges my teeth. Yuck. But I can eat ketchup just fine; go figure.
  • Bananas have too flat a flavor to really enjoy, but it’s the texture that kills me. Soft and mushy right until you get to the middle, and then your teeth crunch through this hard bit in the center. Um, no thank you, I didn’t want cardboard in the middle of my banana.
  • Eating olives feels like I’m eating cooked eyeballs. HECK to the NO.
  • Eating cooked onions is like eating spicy slivers of tapeworms. Pull the onion slice out of a breaded onion ring sometime and you’ll see exactly what I mean. BLEGH!
  • Iceberg lettuce (the really pale green/white kind) is basically crunchy, bitter paper impregnated with water.
  • Mushrooms have an odd rubbery texture that kinda feels like I’m eating a bodily organ of some sort. Combine that with an utter lack of flavor, and you get why I hate mushrooms.
  • Pulp and fiber in most fruits and vegetables is like eating a wad of Silly String, or gum that has long since lost its flavor. Examples: celery (bite into it, and it looks like split ends), oranges (yuck, pulp that gets all over my tongue and I can’t swallow it)
  • I’ve tried and tried to enjoy Twinkies and other “just-sugar-and-fat” foods, and I can’t take ’em. They are literally too sweet–my mouth dries out and I choke.
  • Very greasy food, like Taco Bell’s new beef recipe = not awesome.
  • I can take chocolate in small quantities, but I have to have something to drink with it–otherwise, the back of my throat burns like I’ve tried to swallow rubbing alcohol.
  • Strong fishy odors make me think of women’s health issues, NOT food. Seafood is largely yuck for that reason. (Seafood is also very chewy/oily)
  • Yogurt is okay in smoothies–just PLEASE do not serve it to me plain. The “live, rotting bacteria” taste has to be covered up with a much stronger flavor.

Not Just Taste, but Texture, Too

It’s true–I generally pay attention to texture of food as well as taste. One more reason that I hate most vegetables and fruit is because of the natural crunchy or pulpy texture–I don’t like too much crunch and too little taste, like in Iceberg lettuce, nor do I want 75% of what I ingest to be tasteless wads of pulp or seeds, like oranges and bananas.

Along with crunchy and pulpy, the tough, chewy foods are generally not on my happy list; thus, why I rarely eat most forms of pork and steak. Bacon? No, thank you, all you are is crisp and grease, or too tough to pull apart. BBQ pork? No, you’re just possum meat in a different animal (longer you chew it, bigger it gets). Steak? Why pay 16 bucks for meat that either tastes like leather or is mooing at me?

Basically, if the food feels disgusting in my mouth, I’m not going to be able to eat it, even if it tastes okay. Example: as much as I love oranges’ flavor, I can’t stand the texture of the pulp in my mouth–thus, no whole oranges for me. Literally makes me want to gag.

Other Picky Food “Rules”

  • Vegetables and meats are supposed to be salty, and fruits and desserts are supposed to be sweet. No crossovers allowed (i.e. sweet corn, honey barbecue flavored meat, watermelon with salt on it, brownies with salted nuts included).
  • Sweet and salty flavors are not supposed to mesh in the same food. Instead, sweet should be cleansed from the palate first before taking a bite of salty, and vice versa.
  • If the meat is pink, has blood running from it, or if the meat looks too much like the animal it came from (i.e., leg of lamb that still LOOKS like a leg), no way I’m eating it.

Summary

Since we all eat but experience food differently, food is both an intensely universal and personal experience. My experience is just one among many–yours is likely completely different. But it’s interesting to share what foods we love and hate, and why.

I also wanted to raise awareness of the food texture issue, since that seems to be a much more common phenomenon than I ever dreamed. Who knew I had compatriots in the hatred of orange pulp and banana seeds?

Tuesday on the Soapbox

A “Tug” on My Brain: Intuition

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Countless times I’ve experienced it, especially driving somewhere. For instance, I’ll be headed to town, and feel a “tug” to go a different route to town than usual (there are two basic ways to get to the closest town from my house). It could happen with any route, at any time. There appears to be no rhyme or reason to it–except, of course, that the times it happens corresponds exactly with accidents or other traffic issues happening on the road I didn’t take.

The first couple of times this happened, that I followed the “tug” and later found out about something awful I avoided, I brushed it off. Now that it’s happened more than 20 times in the last four years, I’ve started to wonder what exactly this strange intuition is.

“Tugs” In Other Areas of Life

Intuitive “tugs” like this have also popped up in non-driving situations, like thoughts of someone randomly popping to mind.

Example #1: The Old High School Acquaintance

I remember about six months ago, I randomly thought of a girl I hadn’t talked to since high school while I was out on an errand. “I haven’t seen her in a long time,” I thought. “Wonder how she’s doing?”

I later met a few other high school friends while out and about at one of the local big-box stores. As we chatted in line at the checkout, one of the girls said, “Oh, and did you hear about [the girl]’s father?”

“Huh? No, I hadn’t,” I replied. “What happened?”

“He got put in the hospital today, ’round lunchtime,” the other girl said. “Kidney stones or something. She’s really messed up over it.”

The odds of this being a coincidence felt pretty slim, even in our small town. Why would that particular person be in my thoughts, only to have other people mention her to me later, in connection with her father’s illness? It was a little rattling, to say the least. Now, if someone pops to mind, I immediately pray for them–who knows why they’ve popped to mind, but I’m covering my bases.

This random, unpredictable sense has aided me in traffic situations, health diagnoses, and even just occasional meetings with people. Some people just seem to exude their worry, and I find myself unconsciously responding to that, offering encouragement–like the couple I served at the calendar store during the holidays in 2009.

Example #2: The Couple at the Calendar Store

When this couple came in to shop, I could tell they were desperately worried about something, but I didn’t know what. I didn’t say anything to them at all until they came up to check out–they spent most of their time talking quietly and looking around. While I was running their purchases through, I made some offhand comment about my knee acting up (probably said something like “Good ol’ Arthur Itis is after me again” or something silly). They exchanged a look, and said “As young as you are, you have arthritis?”

“Most likely–runs in my family, and I’ve had a lot of injuries to it,” I replied.

Again, the slightly-surprised look. “Well, our son is having a lot of pain and swelling in his left knee, especially when he wakes up in the mornings. We’re actually over here shopping, waiting for him to get done with testing–we thought maybe he’d broken something.”

“Sounds like what I go through on many mornings with my own joints,” I told them. “If it isn’t broken, it might be arthritis. But I take Advil or Aleve, and try to rest the joint if I can, and that helps.” I could FEEL them relaxing, and they smiled for the first time since they came in. They seemed happier now that they had a possible explanation for what was happening to their son. I had not known of any illness beforehand, but it had just seemed like the right thing to say.

Intuition through Dreams: Premonitions

Intuition like this seems to even occur in dreams for me–one very disturbing (but awesome) dream experience happened about two years ago.

Example #3: The T-Intersection Dream

Back in the summer of 2010, I had a vivid dream that I was at a country T-intersection about 12 miles from home, at night. I was getting ready to turn left in the dream, turning to go home from that point. It struck me as odd, though–in the dream, the house across the road had odd, blue-icicle Christmas lights on its side porch, which made no sense because it was July when I had the dream.

In the dream, I looked back and forth, checking to see if it was clear for me to turn. (This particular intersection is very scary at night because the lay of the land makes it hard to see if people are coming, and since it’s near a busy highway, some people come busting through there at 50+ mph.) I began to turn, and all of a sudden, I saw a flash of bright blue-green paint, right before I T-boned the pickup truck that had come out of absolutely nowhere. The jarring impact, and the sound of tearing, screeching metal, stayed with me long after I woke, and I could not go back to sleep.

Near Christmas 2010, I found myself at that same intersection, late at night–it was about 11:30 on a Friday. I looked back and forth, and it looked clear; seemed I could get on my way with no worries. But I happened to glance ahead and see the house across the road–it looked the same as it had been in my dream. Even the blue-icicle lights were in the same position on the house as they had been, only decorating the side porch. I felt that now-familiar “tug” on my brain, and thought, “This looks a bit too much like my dream for my liking.” Paused in thought, I held the car still longer than I had in the dream.

Then a flash of bright blue-green paint whizzed by in my headlights, shocking me out of my dream-memory. A pickup truck, going about 20 miles over the speed limit, had passed me in the night–the exact same color and general make that I had seen in the dream nearly six months before. If I had not waited a few seconds more, reflecting on my dream, I would have T-boned him exactly as I had done in the dream. I have no doubt that this dream saved my life by making me more watchful and aware.

“Tugs” about People: Danger Sense/Character Judgment

I can credit these strange senses with other, more immediate needs of mine as well–sensing when a person may become dangerous, or sensing when someone is in sincere need of help.

Example #4: The Young Blond Guy

For instance, one afternoon I was pumping gas near my college campus; I’d already paid at the pump and was well on my way to a full tank. A young man, blond-haired and wearing a jean jacket and camouflage-patterned pants, pulled up at the pump behind me and got out, ostensibly walking into the gas station’s convenience store. But instead of walking with purpose, he cruised–sauntered–on by my car, oh-so-casually glancing in my backseat and at my purse. Then, he moved on, walking on into the store.

Once he was in the store, the “tug” was unmistakable and strong, the impulse even expressing itself in words: “Get out, get out of here right now. You are in danger.” I quit pumping gas, got my printed receipt, and fairly flew out of the parking lot, taking the long way back to campus in case he followed me. I didn’t like the way he’d looked at me, as if he were sizing me up, and casing my car. But I got back to my dorm safely, and, once inside, quickly forgot about the incident.

It wasn’t until the next day in class that I heard several students talking about the woman who had been robbed at gunpoint at a local gas station. “Where was that?” I asked.

“That station right at the corner of campus, near the tire place,” one of the other guys said. “Happened just after 3:30 yesterday afternoon. They’re still lookin’ for the guy, too–had shoulder-length blond hair, wore a denim jacket and camo pants.”

Though I said nothing, I was shocked. The clock on my car radio had read 3:22 when I had pulled out of the gas station parking lot like a bat out of hell. The young man I had seen, who had given me such a huge case of the creeps, was dressed and looked exactly like the description. It seemed my intuition had been right, and I had been totally correct to follow it.

Example #5: The Scared Mother-to-Be

There was also the case of the young woman who approached me at the local coffee shop one evening, needing a ride back to Charlotte, NC, about an hour’s drive away. Though I did not know her, I had an instant sense, a “tug,” that made me want to help her. She seemed very desperate and afraid.

Though the drive eventually took us nearly all the way back to my hometown, due to a disagreement with the boyfriend she was having me drive her to meet, I was able to talk to her as I drove, and I found out she was four months pregnant, had been excluded from her church’s activities for being a “bad example” to the youth, and was terribly frightened about what was going to happen to her. I suspected abuse on the part of the “boyfriend,” whose very presence set off the “danger alarm” in my head–I was just as glad she did not choose to go with him after all.

By the time I dropped her off at a family member’s house in a nearby city, I had encouraged her to talk to her family members and seek their help. I had also told her that a church which excludes its members is not doing the work of Christ, and that God most definitely had a plan for her and her child. Listening to her talk of her life, weeping, was very difficult, but I did my best to minister to her and keep her safe on the road.

My intuition had been right again; though I had not known her from Eve when I first met her, she was someone who sincerely needed help in two ways, and I was willing to give it because of the “tug” of intuition I had had beforehand.

Where Do These “Tugs” of Intuition Come From?

I honestly cannot give an answer about where this intuition comes from. I’ve watched all manner of “psychics” do their acts, have investigated all the paranormal things I could, and still there’s no real answer to where these senses come from, and why they seem to be so dead-on accurate all the time.

I know for a fact I can’t predict the future consistently, nor can I see dead people around the living or talk to ghosts. But whatever they are, they have only benefited me and others positively. I prefer to think of these “tugs” as handy “warnings,” if you will…wherever they come from, they’ve certainly kept me out of danger and made me more helpful to others.

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Horror Movies Ain’t Got Nothing on My Imagination

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I like to tell people that I’m not very interested in horror movies or literature, because I’ve got a whole horror-movie production studio in my subconscious.

Most people think it’s a joke…but they aren’t the ones with a horror movie going while they sleep, and no way to turn it off!

A Few Selections from My Gleefully Wicked Subconscious

  • The recurring dream featuring running through a very sticky substance, and KNOWING I have to run from something that’s going to eat me, but I’m stuck to the floor. My chest is heavy, and I can’t breathe at all–there’s a crushing pressure on my body that makes it nearly impossible to take in air. Oh, and did I mention I’m completely blind in this dream? (I hate hate hate this one–I always wake up feeling like I’ve been strangled!)
  • A flashback from teaching middle school, where I get arrested in the lunchroom for allowing the kids to go absolutely batpoo crazy, and the judge pretty much throws the book at me, telling me “a criminal like me should not be allowed back in the classroom for any reason.” His version of “throwing the book at me” is chopping my hands off and cutting out my voice box. (Aw, God, the sheer amount of blood, and knowing it was MINE…nastyyyyyy)
  • The one where I’m the servant of a minister and his kinda-creepy mother, and they ask me to come to the basement of the church after I finish work. There’s a barrel in the corner of the gray-brick room I arrive in, which looks to be filled with water…but when I look in it, there’s rotting flesh in there. A scream rips from me, and I wake up lying on the floor, watching the minister burn one of my leg bones on a makeshift altar. I realize that I’m now just a pile of fleshless bones on the floor–my flesh has been stripped from me and is in the barrel–but I can still feel everything he’s doing to that bone of mine! (I was literally screwed up for HOURS after waking up from this…THING)

And yes, these are all real dreams that I’ve had over the course of my lifetime. (The blind running/difficulty breathing dream has haunted me since childhood, at least since I was three.) My brain seems to be very good at giving me frights while I sleep–it’s like, “Hey, you’re sleeping–let’s make a really scary movie that you can’t wake up out of!” (I have had numerous instances of being unable to wake easily from these dreams, more than the pretty and lovely dreams I’m always jarred out of by the cursed alarm clock.)

Why These Dreams Equal No “Scream” or “Halloween” for Me

Couple this vivid imagination and wicked subconscious with a strong empathy for others’ suffering, plus a little bit of paranoia about experiencing pain, and you get exactly why I can’t sit through a horror movie without needing a barf bag or a sensory deprivation tank afterwards. I don’t like seeing great gouts of blood all over the screen, because I can all too easily visualize it as being mine. Seeing people get stabbed through the eye or having to run screaming from stuff is not my idea of fun…it’s too much like my own nightmares. Why pay for this when I can get it for free (admittedly, in an uncontrollable fashion, but still)?

Unpredictable Nightmares

The frustrating thing about my horror-movie dreams is that I can never predict when they’ll happen, but they’re always nerve-jarring when they do. I could have the most awesome day ever, come home, go to bed, and experience something like one of the three dreams I mentioned above. Or, I could have the most awful day of my life, come home and flop in bed only to have an amazingly wonderful dream.

Is this my subconscious’ way of giving balance to my life? “Oop, you’re too happy, let’s give you something to freak out about!” or “Whoa, you need a pick-me-up–here ya go!” Whatever it is, I guess this is another of my brain’s quirks…

For the Readers

Do you suffer from similar kinds of nightmares as I do, or have you ever had one that stuck with you for a long time after waking? Let me know in the comments!