My Maniacal Mind

Standing with the LGBTAQ - - - Support Orlando

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 13 Jun 2016 21:18:00 -0400

I've been trying to find the words and for the last 32 hours I've been at an utter loss for words. I am literally without words.

As an Ally, I've spent most of my life standing loud and proud with the LGBTQ community. The thought that one of them, or even myself could have been gunned down Saturday night sickens me. I feel like maybe I haven't done enough to spread the words of equality, love, support, and community in the world.

Right when I think I've possibly found the adequate words to describe my feelings, this visual plays in my head:

"Mommy I love you

in the club they shooting

Trapp in the bathroom

Call police

He's coming.

Im gonna die . . . "

-Eddie Justice

The only emotion I can really articulate right now is fear. Not scared of the shooters or ISIS or other radicals. I'm scared we have gotten to a point where an act of violence like this is sensationalized. I'm scared at how targeted groups are only a hot topic for a second, and then quickly forgotten about once the "press dies down."

I’m scared those families will never have the adequate resources to deal with the trauma that will affect them for the rest of their lives. It will take thousands of dollars for therapy and support groups to even begin to help them heal.

I'm scared that the mother of Eddie Justice will continue to be haunted by the last words from her son.

I’m scared we have lost all kindness and respect for humanity.

I still need more time to process my thoughts, but I know this will take a while.

In the meantime, I will continue to do everything I can to fight for peace and equality. I will continue to urge people to donate blood, time, prayers, and support for everyone in Orlando impacted by this event.

I will continue to urge people to have patience and teach peace, not bigotry and hate.

The Pursuit of Boredom. 1

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 29 May 2016 22:45:00 -0400

Why am I always bored?

I have started, mastered (well, knew wisely when to quit if I couldn't master), and completed more projects, jobs, careers, and "notions" than the average 33 year old black chick from Sacramento. Why? Am I a mad genius? Hell no. Highly ambitious? Sometimes, but mostly I would prefer to eat nachos and nap. All of this madness stems from the fact that I’m always bored.

If you don't suffer from occasional boredom, I commend you!

To understand why I’m always bored, I needed to learn what the hell causes boredom (other than the obvious lame people and lame situations). Here's an interesting note about chronic boredom:

Psychologists have just started researching boredom, according to the American Psychological Association. The pursuit to understanding the brain waves and mechanisms behind boredom is a new study in American psychology.

Probably why there’s no medical cure for boredom other than ADD pills. But I think that’s a different disease. Never mind.

Kristen Weir, contributor for Science Watch published by the American Psychological Association writes, "A bored person doesn't just have nothing to do. He or she wants to be stimulated, but is unable, for whatever reason, to connect with his or her environment . . . "

This is me! I'm in need of constant mental stimulation. I have to be mentally stimulated or I become destructive, like a puppy. I have to be intrigued. I have to learn. I have to know why. I have to know how. I have to know the intricacies, or lack thereof, so many things.

True story, I got bored one day at work, started a mini strike, and got myself and another co-worker a raise because I decided we were too smart (and too bored) to continue doing the same work with minimal pay. Yes it was risky and I almost got fired, but the boredom and antsy puppy-like behavior resulted in something good.

Okay so I don’t necessarily need puppy pads or a crate to get through a normal day, but I do need a lot of things I deem “stimulating” to survive long periods of time. Are you like this too? To read more about the phenomenon of needing constant stimulation, catch up on Never a Dull Moment.

Another note about chronic boredom: psychologists have found a link to boredom stems from traumatic brain injury.

Some really smart dude from the University of Waterloo in Ontario (real place, real school) claims, "people with TBI [traumatic brain injury] often begin to indulge in riskier activities after their accidents. These activities might include taking drugs or jumping out of planes & mash; pursuits they pick up in an attempt to deal with their new and chronic boredom."

Hummm. . . . my sisters have admitted to dropping me on my head when I was 17 months old, but apparently I barely cried (probably because they shoved a pillow over my face so my wails went undetected by my parents) and there was no need to take me to the hospital. I think I can rule out TBI as a cause.

While I don’t necessarily result to risky behaviors, I do pick up new tasks because of my chronic boredom. I'm always pushing myself to the next limit and never accepting anything less than, flipping fantastic! True story, during a bout of boredom in my previous career, I decided to take improve classes. That resulted in a three year career as an improv actor until, well. . . I got bored.

If you think you suffer from TBI and indulge in risky behaviors as a result, seek therapy, and then read this article to learn about yourself and your foolish endeavors.

Outside from brain injuries (small factor of bored people) and lack of stimulation, what are the common boredom triggers?

I want to poll to the audience: is anyone else like this? What drives your brain? What makes you bored? I would love to know! Maybe we can start a support group.

If you're willing to share what makes your brains bleed and beg out for more interesting things to do/say/read/listen/enjoy/partake, email me and I'll anonymously post some of the findings in a later blog post. Let's help each other, endlessly bored community!

May you find this blog post stimulating and a great break from boredom!

-ManiacalMind

Shifts in Corporate Culture

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 11 May 2016 19:28:00 -0400

Originally posted: April, 2015.

Writer's note: A year later and nothing has changed.

Shifts in Corporate Culture - The Imbalance in candidate pooling.

Hiring managers: are we doing our potential candidates and ourselves justice with our interview structure?

Candidates: are you jumping through too many hoops in this current job market?

After a grueling interview process at my existing company I've discovered a fatal flaw in the hiring and retention process across America: companies place too much emphasis on making the employee work hard to find them and not working hard to prove its worth to the candidate.

This is a byproduct of the Great Recession - surplus of candidates, not enough positions, and really strict requirements to find the person who can do the job of 6 (because real before 2010 most departments had 6 people doing the work, justified or not)

This has created an imbalance in the job market.

I'm telling you things you already know. Nothing new, right?

But here's where I want to offer a new perspective; to truly find a good math employers must spend as much time jumping through hoops and dazzling the candidate as much as we require the candidate to dazzle us.

Here are a few tips that will help right the balance of the job market.

1. Cover letter letter to email response - if you require a cover letter for the job application you should send the applicant an email. How many times are we applying and getting a boring generic "thanks for applying" response. That speaks volumes. As an applicant, you haven't taken the time to update your company stationary or our thought into improving your company brand. Trust me; every email, click or no response is brand protection for a company. PR methods!

2. Matching work samples - I've been the recipient of a bad hire. Looked at works samples, hired the person and realized they stole or plagiarized work samples. I get it, we have to do better about this. But be realistic on the type of work sample and amount of work samples you're requesting. If the job has limited writing as the function, do not require a dissertation. If the position requires weekly PowerPoint presentations where you are giving the employee the materials to be included, the same should be done for the work sample. Making people jump through unnecessary hoops to fulfill requirements that aren't encompassing of the job means you'll will miss out on a great candidate pool who:

a) Doesn’t want to be bothered. Or,

b) Doesn’t work well under unrealistic deadlines/examples.

3. The dreaded on the spot work sample. People need space time and energy to be creative so make sure you're providing that. Some of the most creative people I know can do well with an assignment but can't hold jobs due to personality issues. You won't catch it in an interview but you will 2-4 months down the line. Meanwhile you passed up an equally creative person who needed just a few more hours and more realistic criteria to create a dazzling sample but you were blinded by your narrow sighted requirements.

4. Relevant interview questions - don't say "oh I want to get to know you and ask questions" but spend the entire interview talking about yourself or your company. Create a dialogue. You will learn more talking with the person than asking questions form a form.

If you can't strike up conversations as the hiring manager, ask someone else to conduct the interview and you sit in and observe. And be honest! Create a natural environment and you'll be amazed how quickly and smoothly your interview process will go.

To the contrary, don’t ask questions that have nothing to do with the price of eggs in Afghanistan. Believe it or not, I recently interviewed for a marketing communications position and was grilled for hours about my Excel skills and my ability to create pivot tables. Being the inquisitive person I am, I asked about book keeping and data and how often the content writer would be responsible for analytics and using Excel. The response: “never, really.”

I’m really trying to give this manager the benefit of the doubt. Maybe pivot table creation is a benchmark for a well-rounded content writer in the 21^st century. No sarcasm. I’m really trying to give said manager the benefit of the doubt. But my initial and gut feeling is the interviewer had a bad experience with one person, and is now making every other interviewee pay for a bad hiring mistake in the past and is gun-shy and needs to make sure every candidate can make pretty graphs and charts, even though they’ll never do it in the job. Ever. (hiring manager’s words, not mine).

With all of this ink on paper, I propose a very simple solution for the culture shifts in our corporate hiring practices. Don't be the jerk- you know what this means for you and your company. Set realistic expectations and you’ll be amazed how good candidates will be easier to spot, recruit, and retail.

Just don’t be the hiring jerks, okay?

This is what I get for trying new things

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 9 May 2016 22:07:00 -0400

Saturday night I decided to try a new massage parlor.

Before your mind goes haywire, this is a real massage place. The kine where you make an appointment and there's no happy ending.

Or so I thought.

I had a 200 lbs Asian man straddle me. He literally mounted me like one of those wild hyenas in a nature show.

Bitch, I blacked out.

I couldn't even get to my happy place; I just fucking passed out. Didn't pass Go. No collecting $200.

I remember coming to a bit, and he had slid my draws down past the middle of my ass, he had placed a hot stone between my ass cheeks, and was drumming some type of tune on my lower back.

When I tell you that was the end, Bitch, I died. Flatlined. No more. No mas existence.

I woke up to 3 Asian women yelling, "'miss Adrian, you okay?" NO BITCHES! I'm not! Fuck!!!!

Not sure if I can show my face again.

Sunday chores

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 1 May 2016 22:30:00 -0400

I learned the hard way; there's two places to avoid at all costs on a Sunday afternoon in the suburbs: Costco and Home Depot.

Lines.

People.

Noise.

People.

Plants.

Bulk Pampers.

It was madness. I'll never be the same again. More importantly, I'll never make that mistake again.

Hope is an endless mystery

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 27 Apr 2016 20:39:00 -0400

Original post: February, 2015

I think faith is the most fascinating concept imaginable – the acknowledgement and belief that something, some mystical power will support, embrace, and guide a human being. Faith is the forefront of two dichotomies; hope and spirituality.

I also have enough intellectual to know the difference between spirituality and hope. I often hear these two opposing forces used in conjunction or in unison and it makes me cringe. They are not synonyms of each other.

Spirituality is the belief in some higher power.

Hope if the belief and comfort one receives from trusting the environment, cosmos, people, or situations and can be derived from spirituality but not solely based on one’s spiritual beliefs.

Everyone by now should know my religious beliefs – I don’t have any. I’m a historian who grew up in liberal California with hippie parents. I’m a thoughts-based free thinker who questions everything and hates judgment and persecution. Therefore, organized religion is a challenge for me. The irony is my spirituality isn’t. My personal experiences; what I have experienced through all 5 of my senses is why I have a spiritual belief in some “power”. I’m also a believer in the big bang theory. . . so yes that’s contradictory, but so is life.

Spiritually, I’m connected. Check and done.

Hope is where I struggle.

See, here’s the thing; hope is that notion that things will work for or against the odds. Hope isn’t real; it’s not tangible, it’s not proven, it’s just a wish.

A wish. As in, when you wish upon a star.

Same argument can be made about spirituality. But some people base spiritual beliefs on the

But my issue with hope is that is a 50/50 crapshoot. And it backfires. There is no clear cut action plan. It’s just a blind wish that something will work. That doesn’t work for my fact-driven mind. I need evidence, facts and figures in order to have reassurance that through tangible actions something will or will not work.

Therefore, hope isn’t a guarantee.

I also believe that hope is not a strategy – a strategy has been vetted, has a mitigation plan, and a tangible outcome with drivable objectives.

Hope is just a wing and a prayer.

A prayer; a calling into action that things work for you or against your desired outcome. I have a hard time explaining this concept to people without being labeled as a negative nancy.

Yeah, I can hope/wish for a lot of things; a big bank account, my dream job, my husband, but wishing does me no good unless I have a plan. And even that plan may or many not work for me. So people tell me to hope. Hope that there’s no hitch in my plans and things work out. Just hope. . .

See, I have little room for error and hopes just don’t fit into my scheme. I need something tangible.

What is guaranteed in life? Death. That’s the only guarantee we have. Until then we have to plan, work, and react to things that are given to us.

That’s where I struggle with hope.

I can’t just “hope” I get my dream job. I have to work for it.

What happens when I work for 15 years to get it and I still don’t have it? Is that when I have to fall back on hope?

Where’s the strategy? When do you account for plan a, b, c and d? Where’s the mitigation plan

I guess I’m too pragmatic for wishes.

What about the husband? Do I just date endless losers and hope I meet my partner? You know how many people have died without their loved ones even though they tried, had a plan, executed it and still never found their mate. Do you just tell them, “you should have hoped for it?”

Hope doesn’t fill lonely nights.

Hope doesn’t take up space.

Hope doesn’t give back.

Hope just is. It’s empty space and time.

Hope is empty.

Hope is the empty promise that something may or may not work out in your favor.

With hope out of the picture that leaves . . . memory.

This is how I categorize my past experiences that guide and shape how I view life. Experience has given me the physical and emotional memory to recall when I have been hurt or experienced things and how to respond accordingly. It is emotional memory that gives me a prescribed course of action for my behaviors generated by emotional triggers to stimuli.

I’m sorry. I’m too practical and too analytical to adhere to hope.

Hope is draining.

Hope is suffocating.

Hope is unrealistic.

Hope is good when used to wish for things that have no or limited impact on your life. I hoped the Seahawks would win the super bowl. I hoped.

But I can’t hope the man of my dreams will fall into my lap or my dream job is around the corner; not until I’ve put in a lot of hard work and a strategy to obtain these things. And even then they may never come to fruition due to circumstances.

Red from Shawshank was right. . . hope is just a shitty pipe dream.

I will believe this until something I hope for, without hard work and sacrifice just mysteriously lands in my lap. Then hope will be a “beautiful thing and maybe even the best of things” - Andy Dufresne.

But that will never happen because I don’t believe in the premise of hope.

Writer's block version 9 million

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 26 Apr 2016 21:47:00 -0400

You know how you know you need to write?

How you know deep down you've neglected the soul purifying process of creative writing but you just can't do it?

When you write day-in and day-out for any and everybody but you know you need to make time for your own endeavors?

Then you finally get pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and you start to write but you don't know where to begin?

Of course you do. You're human.

And to those of you who claim you can't relate to at least one of the above mentioned scenarios, y'all are full of bullshit and fuckery.

The inability to create due to outside forces knowing you need to create is what I call adulting.

I've been adulting since my late teens/early twenties and it stinks.

Adulting as a creative soul means being too damn exhausted or stressed or depressed or unmotivated or broke (yes, broke) to do what your soul needs. . . to be creative. To create. To flourish and use the gifts God, the cosmos, Jupiter, Abraham, or whomever you pray to (or not) gave you.

Adulting is trying to balance your third chakra with the demands of work and family and still feeling fulfilled and being able to keep a roof over your head and clothes on your baby's back and unleaded petroleum in your 1997 Ford Tempo (or premium in your Honda Odyssey, but I digress).

Some of you may find the last 3 paragraphs "excuses" or cocamanney bullshittery I'm hiding behind to justify not writing for my own personal . . . ummmmm. . . gratification (yes, no, maybe?) to fulfill one of my life's purposes.

Okay so that last sentence was complete garbage; but you get where I'm coming from.

We were all born to create something and for the last few months I've been creating a lot of things, but all of those efforts have been for other people.

Well I guess you can say some of it has been for me, since 70% of my creative energy has been fueled into work which provides me with a cushy paycheck so I can continue to gorge on Chuy's nachos and buy shit I don't need from Amazon.

Seriously, you just got a glimpse into the last nine months of my life.

And nine was an arbitrary number! I wasn't pregnant.

So today I must pull myself out of the shit hole I've reluctantly slithered into and start being true to myself, my voice, and my creative talents.

So here is my "stop being a pussy, Adrian, and get back on the ball" letter to myself. I'm holding myself accountable.

Ugghhhhh accountability.

Anyone who's ever been through a rehab program HATES the word "accountability." It feels like a made-up word so idiots can wear a suit and a tie and have a job . . .

God bless you, Red!

Well technically, Stephen King since he wrote the book.

Have I lost anybody yet? Shawshank Redemption. Damnit keep up, people!

Here's to me holding myself accountable to stop drinking . . . errrrr eating Chuy's nachos and buying shit off Amazon, and to rededicating time to create dope shit and write.

- Maniacal Mind

P.S. For those of you who kept track, if you're wondering where the other 30% of my creative energy went, it was dedicated to watching my tongue so I don't curse people out and get arrested at work or in my daily life dealing with my fellow Atlantans.

Dream Dictionary

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 21 May 2015 16:29:00 -0400

You all know by now that I'm a clairvoyant dreamer.

Everything happening in my waking life appears in my dreams. Therefore, a dream dictionary is my best friend.

I’m going through yet another period of self-discovery through stress. Last night’s dream is a clear indication of what’s present and ahead in my life.

Here's a description of last night's crazy dream presented through a text message conversation with my brother:

Addy-A: so you me and Chuck were at Disney World . . . I'm pretty sure it was Disney world and not land, and we were watching the fireworks show at the end before the park closes.

Brother: uh oh . . . who did you knock out

Addy-A: then we were walking towards the tram or monorail to leave and Chuck and I got separated from you and I think your mom. It was some blonde lady so I assume it’s mom.

So Chuck and I stumbled upon another fireworks show. But this time they were exploding right in front of us.

I was scared I was gonna get exploded.

I grabbed Chuck and said, "you've got to get me out of here!"

He grabbed me by both arms and said, "No. You are going to take my picture now".

He manhandled me like Ike Turner. Like, "Take the picture, Annamae!"

So I stayed behind and took his whack assed picture. It was really pretty though and the fireworks didn't explode me even though they were going off literally 3 feet in front of us.

Brother: That sounds like Chuck. Always tryin to get folks killed. . . and we know he always want a picture next to stuff.

Addy-A: then on our way back to the car I found a little food stand. Of course I ordered 2 churros and I asked Chuck if he wanted one. He had me order him a diet coke.

When I went to pay for the stuff I opened my wallet and it was full of loose cash. A lot of it. Stripper singles, and $5 bills and a couple of twenties and coins.

And popcorn. Loads of popcorn. The popcorn kept overflowing. Falling on the ground, in the cash register, it was everywhere.

I paid for the food with exact cash.

Brother: I can't with you right now.

Addy-A: I was walking up that steep hill that we ran during the race eating my delicious churros with Chuck behind me looking for you and mom. Man, those churros were good!

They put them on a fancy plate and gave me this caramel sauce to dip it in and whipped cream.

OMG.

And I could taste them in the dream too

Okay,that's basically it. I woke up.

Brother: I had to walk away for a moment after all this crazy

Addy-A: I need to look up Churro in the Dream Dictionary. . .

And that’s my dream. Here’s the interpretation of the most important symbols in the dream:

Churro
To see or eat a churro in your dream refers to life's sweet rewards. Sometimes you need to take a break from your daily problems. Alternatively, a churro may represent the phallus.

Popcorn
To eat or make popcorn in your dream suggests positive growth. You are full of ideas. Some important fact or truth is being made aware to you through the dream.

Wallet
To see your wallet in your dream symbolizes your self identity or financial security.

Cash Register
To see a cash register in your dream represents financial worries and concerns. You are assessing your financial situation. On the other hand, you may be expecting monetary gains.�

Cashier
To see or dream that you are a cashier indicates that you are re-evaluating your life and what you have accomplished. Alternatively, it suggests that you have removed yourself out of some situation. You have "checked out".

Money
To see or win money in your dream indicates that success and prosperity is within your reach. Money represents confidence, self-worth, success, or values.

Fireworks
To see fireworks in your dream symbolizes enthusiasm, creativity, and talent. It may also indicate that you are showing off and making a spectacle of yourself.

Amusement Park
To see or be in an amusement park in your dream indicates that you need to set some time for more relaxation and enjoyment in your life. The rides, booths and elements in the amusement park are an expression of some aspect of yourself or some area in your life. Look up the symbolism of specific rides for more details. Alternatively, the dream indicates that you are too easily distracted lately.

To dream that the amusement park is closed suggests that you are denying yourself your time for fun and leisure. You need a break.

Disneyland
To dream that you are at Disneyland indicates that you need to take some time off, especially after all the hard work that you have been involved in. Known as the "happiest place on earth", the dream may suggest a lack of happiness in your life. You are looking for that happiness.�

Definitions brought to you by www.dreammoods.com

Why not?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 17 May 2015 18:29:00 -0400

I dare everyone to answer that question.

Sexism at it's finest - the 'Dad Bod'

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 11 May 2015 10:46:00 -0400

My recent foray into the dating world reminds me of one important rule - men expect physical perfection while women are more like, 'mehhhhh' when it comes to their mates.

It never fails, the feeling of dread when a guy I've been chatting with online asks for pictures. Great, this is when he will walk away from me like the other men have because I'm not a size 0 even though they are physically a hot mess themselves. And about 50% of the time they do indeed walk away. Men are allowed to expect perfection while we don't demand the same of them. Its the double-standard that continues to plague the world, not just our society.

My friends and I (straight and LGBT) discuss this all of the time. How we are expected to be perfect yet the other isn't. Yes, we know the ones who walked away because we don't fit the stupid unrealistic definition of beauty for our society is indeed a blessing in disguise. If you only want me because I'm tiny then good luck with your superficial girlfriend, bruh!

Even Kanye's shallow ass says, "the prettiest people have the lowest self-esteem"

In reality the fight for perfection and men's (and some women's) fight to find that idea of perfection leave a lot of good people very single.
.
As I hit my point of absolute, "screw this, I'm going to consider becoming a nun (again)" I read today's The Skimm today and saw this article.

The Dad Bod is indeed a sexist shame. It is not fair that men in general can let themselves go but demand that we have washboard abs and big boobs. Yes, this is a generalization, but speaking as a single woman in 2015 that bikes and runs 20 miles a week just to maintain a balance and health and to fit into a pair of jeans, the struggle is real my friends!

Thanks, Brian Moylan for giving the world some much needed real talk.

Openly Hostile (2)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 1 May 2015 14:10:00 -0400

Impostor Syndrome -defined, analyzed and discussed

Definitions:

"Impostor syndrome can be defined as a collection of feelings of inadequacy that persist even in face of information that indicates that the opposite is true. It is experienced internally as chronic self-doubt, and feelings of intellectual fraudulence.

It is basically feeling that you are not really a successful, competent, and smart student, that you are only imposing as such. "

- Caltech Counseling Center

"Impostor syndrome describes a situation where someone feels like an impostor or fraud because they think that their accomplishments are nowhere near as good as those of the people around them. Usually, their accomplishments are just as good, and the person is applying an unfairly high standard to themself (and not to others). It's especially common in fields where people's work is constantly under review by talented peers, such as academia or Open Source Software."

- Geek Feminism Wiki

"Impostor syndrome^[1] is a psychological phenomenon in which people are unable to internalize their accomplishments. Despite external evidence of their competence, those with the syndrome remain convinced that they are frauds and do not deserve the success they have achieved. Proof of success is dismissed as luck, timing, or as a result of deceiving others into thinking they are more intelligent and competent than they believe themselves to be. Notably, impostor syndrome is particularly common among high-achieving women.^[2]^"

- Wikipedia

Analysis:

Is this a legitimate clinical disease?

According to the psychologists who coined the phenomenon, Suzanne Imes, PhD, and Pauline Rose Clance, PhD, "Though the impostor phenomenon isn't an official diagnosis listed in the DSM, psychologists and others acknowledge that it is a very real and specific form of intellectual self-doubt. Impostor feelings are generally accompanied by anxiety and, often, depression."

Who suffers?

Mainly women, but modern research is uncovering that men are starting to discuss their battles with IS.

According to the American Psychological Association, minorities are more susceptible to IS. Asian women rank the highest in IS sufferers, followed by African American women, then Latinos.

Discussion:

Why do women suffer from this phenomenon more than men?

My thought: women aren't as cocky as males. Men are taught from the beginning to "fake it until the make it" and live under "false bravado" until their lies become reality. Can't tell you how many of my guy friends have offered this shallow and insignificant advise to me as a cure for the deep self-loathing and doubt that has haunted me most of my life.

What Scientists say: the second reason women suffer vs. men; according to medical research women strive for perfection more than men. Women have a higher idealistic attachment to perfection therefore causing feelings of impersonation when we fall short.

Please don't get it twisted; while impostor syndrome is studied in work and academia, it also impacts personal relationships as well. A person suffering from IS tends to feel unworthy in areas of love, finances and health.

Peep the following articles for additional scientific research on the impostor syndrome/phenomenon:

American Psychological Association: Feeling Like a Fraud by Kirsten Weir
Caltech Counseling Center: Impostor Syndrome

Hope is an endless mystery

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 23 Apr 2015 09:56:00 -0400

At least it was until I realized it is bull shit. Something intertwined with complex ideologies on faith, spirituality and prayer.

I also have enough intellect intellectual to know the difference between spirituality and hope. I often hear these two opposing forces used in conjunction or in unison and it makes me cringe. They are not synonyms of each other.

Spirituality is the belief in some higher power.

Hope if the belief and comfort one receives from trusting the environment, cosmos, people, or situations and can be derived from spirituality but not solely based on one’s spiritual beliefs.

Everyone by now should know my religious beliefs – I don’t have any. I’m a historian who grew up in liberal California with hippie parents. I’m a thoughts-based free thinker who questions everything and hates judgment and persecution. Therefore, organized religion is a challenge for me. The irony is my spirituality isn't. My personal experiences; what I have experienced through all 5 of my senses is why I have a spiritual belief in some “power”. I’m also a believer in the big bang theory.. So, yes that’s contradictory, but so is life.

Spiritually, I’m connected. Check and done.

Hope is where I struggle.

See, here’s the thing; I believe that hope is that notion that things will work for or against the odds. Hope isn't real; it’s not tangible, it’s not proven, it’s just a wish.

A wish. As in, when you wish upon a star.

Same argument can be made about spirituality.

But my issue with hope is that is a 50/50 crap-shoot. There is no clear cut action plan. It’s just a blind wish that something will work. That doesn't work for my fact-driven mind. I need evidence, facts and figures in order to have reassurance that through tangible actions something will or will not work.

Therefore, hope isn't a guarantee.

I also believe that hope is not a strategy – a strategy has been vetted, has a mitigation plan, and a tangible outcome with derivable objectives.

Hope is just a wing and a prayer.

A prayer; a calling into action that things work for you or against your desired outcome. I have a hard time explaining this concept to people without being labeled as a Negative Nancy.

Yeah, I can hope and wish for a lot of things; a big bank account, my dream job, my husband, but wishing does me no good unless I have a plan. And even that plan may or many not work for me. So people tell me to hope. Hope that there’s no hitch in my plans and things work out. Just hope. . .

See, I have little room for error and hopes just don’t fit into my scheme.

I need something tangible.

What is guaranteed in life? Death. That’s the only guarantee we have. Until then we have to plan, work, and react to things that are given to us.

That’s where I struggle with hope.

I can’t just “hope” I get my dream job. I have to work for it.

What happens when I work for 15 years to get it and I still don’t have it? Is that when I have to fall back on hope? Where’s the strategy? When do you account for plan a, b, c and d? Where’s the mitigation plan.

I guess I’m too pragmatic for wishes.

Hope doesn't fill lonely nights.

Hope doesn't take up space.

Hope doesn't give back.

Hope just is. It’s empty space and time.

Hope is empty.

Hope is the empty promise that something may or may not work out in your favor.

With hope out of the picture that leaves . . . memory.

I’m sorry. I’m too practical and too analytical to adhere to hope.

Hope is draining.

Hope is suffocating.

Hope is unrealistic.

Hope is good when used to wish for things that have no or limited impact on your life. I hoped the Seahawks would win the super bowl. I hoped.

Red from Sawshank was right. . . hope is just a shitty pipe dream.

But that will never happen because I don’t believe in the premise of hope.

My current mood

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 21 Apr 2015 22:45:00 -0400

The great dinner dilemma

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 13 Apr 2015 16:46:00 -0400

I need your help! What should I do? Be ratchet or be a lady?

http://youtu.be/po3NBi43mKs

Openly hostile

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 7 Apr 2015 15:42:00 -0400

It seems like every few months I go through another season, another transition period, another "ow yippie! A little more pain and discomfort to teach your ass some lessons!"

I guess that's a good thing because lawt and lucifer know growth and change is good. I don't want to be the person I was two days ago yet alone stagnating for long period of time, yet this season feels kinda off and intense for some reason.

This has been an "in your face" period of growth.

Literally.

I've recently had to look myself in the face (kinda ironic because since my mom's death I avoid looking directly at my face) and realize I've been living in avoidance and denial. I have spent years fixing everything else that is "wrong" or "broken" in my life and I've avoided fixing the most important and self-destructive aspect of my personality; my imposter syndrome.

To be continued . . .

I learned Wednesday

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 3 Apr 2015 10:52:00 -0400

My brother warned me: "apply a special gel to your body before going on long bike rides. If not; you'll chafe. And for everything that's mighty; no matter how hot it is, wear long clothing."

I broke rules one and two. I didn't apply gel and I wore running shorts.

I'm in pain.

I kinda want to die- or have my legs cut off.

This is why I can't have nice shit because I don't listen when people warn me.

My mom used to tell me that hard heads lead to a soft ass. She was half right, it lead to injured thighs.

This medical moment was brought to you by diaper rash cream- it also soothes chaffed thighs caused by saddle burn.

My recent breakup

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 25 Mar 2015 01:09:00 -0400

I'm going through a breakup and it's rough. I'm experiencing the typical breakup emotions: dread, fear, regret, nausea, depression, anxiety, loneliness, over stimulated sex drive, all of the usually post-relationship drama. I go through all of it and think I'm too weak- too weak to handle this break up and I should just wave the white flag and beg to be taken back. Run right towards the bag of Oreos and say, "take me back!!!"

I broke up with Oreos.

Yes, you read correctly. Oreo cookies and I are no longer in a committed relationship.

See I came to realize that Oreos and I had a codependent relationship. I was dependent on eating them to fulfill my big gut and feelings of greediness and they needed me to well, feel greedy. It was just dangerous. We had to break up. I quit their asses and never looked back.

Until Friday.

I saw them in the check or aisle at Target. He had moved on (like all loser men do) and was in the shopping cart of a young blonde.

Like Kanye says, "when you get on he'll leave your ass for a white girl"

I felt so betrayed. I immediately wanted them back in my life. But I had to get over it.

I puffed out my chest like Nick Jonas and walked proudly by the bitch's cart and said: "You know they got the red velvet ones now. You should buy two bags!" and I walked off.

bAM! Vengeance was mine.

Now I'm at home writing this lonely assed blog post by myself. I miss Oreos but I know their creamy goodness was no longer good for me.

I will find a new vice. I hear Shiraz is good for the heart . . .

"Sometimes you just be feeling yourself"

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 5 Feb 2015 12:30:00 -0500

And then this happened. . .

The Gym Creeper

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 3 Feb 2015 10:30:00 -0500

There once was this dude in the women's locker room at the gym. You know, a typical day in the life of a gym rat. We exchanged niceties and went on about our lives.

Here's what happened:

The gym pool leads to the locker rooms. I saw him coming from the pool area and assumed he had dementia and got confused.

I saw him as I was putting things away. Like a kind soul I walked up to him and smiled and said, "hey buddy, I think you are in the wrong location" and kindly escorted him out of the locker room via the pool area. I went on with my life and thought nothing of it other than I gave a description to the gym staff before I left.

Last Friday night I am changing into my bathing suit and I see a man's back in the locker room. He is opening lockers and has a bag of bathing stuff in his hand and he is wearing swim trunks.

Being the stupid bitch I am I panicked. Am I in the wrong locker room? No it can't be because I just saw some women talking and as they walked out. But what is really going on?

Being the fearless dummy I am, I go an investigate. Well fear had little to do with it or maybe a lot to do with it. I wanted to go get security but seeing as I was in a bathing suit I would rather face a crazy man in the women's locker room than have a gym full of meat heads. I could just picture it now; it would be like the pig blood scene from Carrie. They would point their fingers at my fat rolls and laugh and I would smite them by telepathically moving dumbells and punching them in the gut with them. So if its between creepy dude and using my magic powers to take out a gym full of people, I chose creepy dude.

As I make my approach creepy dude turns around and guess what? Its the same dude from last time. His basic ass is sitting there trying to find his stuff out of his locker that he misplaced so he can take a shower and go home. How do I know all of this? Because his basic ass told me.

So his ass stumbled into the women's locker room again from the pool area, past the women's showers and toilet area and into the locker room so he could strip down and change. The shocking thing is he didn't have an ounce of care! ZERO fucks were given that he was in the women's locker room AGAIN for the second time in a few months.

Why me? Why does this shit always happen to me? What do I do? What should I do? Bump modesty and go get help because clearly he's a repeat offender?

After kindly pointing showing him the door I went about my business again and declared if it did happen again I would mace his ass. I will also call the cops and get gym personnel involved.

What makes matters worse is when I told this to my sisters, they sent me news articles of recent gym creepers.

I apologize to all of the ladies at LA Fitness Brookhaven. If I weren't modest I would have ran out of the locker room and had his ass on the spot. Instead I let fat rolls get in the way. My fat rolls always get in the way. Le sigh.

Not all speedos are created equally

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 2 Feb 2015 15:19:00 -0500

I hate to be a gym creeper (especially since I've had my own experiences with creepsters) but I kinda have a discussion I would like to bring up with all of you.

Speedos. What's up with speedos. Why does every man that belongs to a gymnasium gotta strut a speedo?

There's rules for sporting speedos:

1. One must not have beer belly

2. One must have package worthy enough of squishing into a Speedo.

Every damned body at the gym breaks rules 1 and 2 except one muther fucker.

I've never seen a jangle so big in my life.

I could see it all. Girth, length, and mother's maiden name. And he had just got done with swimming which means there was shrinkage and it was still huge.

I didn't mean to gawk but like whoa nelly.

The Asain women an I just sat there in total awe and appeciation.

Dirk Diggler has left the pool, ladies and gentlemen!

Please feel free to pass judgement in 5...4...3...2...1...

Please don't ever . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 2 Feb 2015 13:05:00 -0500

There are 2 things you should never do in front of me; fall or fart. If you do either I will ridicule you relentlessly. Am I evil? Hell no. Evil is the mug laughing at you behind your back while I clown your ass to your face. Get your feelings in check, mane.

I hate people who wear see-thru yoga pants. I also feel that the companies who manufacture see-thru yoga pants should be bombed. I have very basic rules for working out and they are as follows:

- I do not want to see your balls

- I do not any to see your cooch.

- I do not want to smell your balls.

- I do not want to smell your cooch.

See thru- yoga pants violates 2 of my above rules. If you are going to accidentally wear such garments I feel you should at least make your draws cute. And the draws should not be ill-fitting. Seriously, if they are riding up so hard they've turned into a thong you should have just worn a thong to begin with. Wearing a thong compromises rule 2 mentioned above and there's a risk I could accidentally see your cooch and that is a NO GO for me.

Additionally, if I can see your draws through your yoga pants there better not be any stains!!!! People have no shame.

I will make exceptions for the swamp ass syndrome. It happens to everyone. But please clean all impacted gym equipment upon your departure. Because if you are wearing see-thru pants and no draws and you leak on the equipment that means there's direct contact from your body swamp fluids and I just cannot deal. That's how dysentery is spread.

In memorandum of 31

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 15 Oct 2014 22:00:00 -0400

As of 3:45PM I've been 32 years-old for 24 hours. The last 24 hours have been a whirlwind . .

no, not because of the latest Ebola outbreak.

no, not because of the Syria - ISIS mess.

no, not because of the mid-term elections.

no, not because of the egg-frenzy at Facebook and Apple.

It's been a whirlwind because. . well, I'm officially getting older. I woke up with this, "I'm 32...y'all can kiss my ass" mindset and it's been interesting to say the least. I've learned a bunch of new things in the last 24 hours that I would like to share with you.

I told an entire room of people yesterday where to go and how to get there. I didn't tip toe around the matter, I didn't care about my professional image or brand, I just said it. End of story. You know what? After 5 minutes of silence, 2 people agreed with me. You know what? 32 feels. . . liberating.

I've been sleepy. Not, "ow I could go take a nap" sleepy, but "OMG -- emergency! I need a spare 7 hours of sleep" type of sleep deprived bullshit. 32 feels. .. . . tiring.

At the birthday dinner last night I decided it would be a brilliant idea to eat cheesy seafood dip. Cheese. I'm lactose intolerant. When I was 31, it would typically take 12 to 24 hours for dairy to hit me. Last night it took approximately 55 minutes. I went to pee and a hot cheesy hell shot out of my anus unannounced. Thank GAD I was already on the toilet. What would have happened if I were walking around my house? Would I have shat myself? I have white carpet and that would have been messy! Do I now need to wear depends? Do I need to stop eating all foods to ensure proper bowel controls? What precautions will I have to take for the rest of my life? 32 feels. . . "Digestive-ly" disturbing.

One of my coworkers told me I look fat in the dress I'm wearing today. I stopped in my tracks and kissed her dead in the mouth in front of everyone to thank her for her honesty. 32 feels. . . grateful for real talk! (I went home and immediately threw the dress away)

Last night I spent 30 minutes packing my lunch, gym bag and clothes last night so I could get up at 5AM to workout this morning. All of that prep work and I went to bed early just to in turn forget to set my alarm clock and I ended up waking up at 7. I've only been 32 for a day and I'm already acting like a senile old woman. 32 feels. . . irritating for being forgetful.

Ow well. . . tis life.

Running - What a helluva challenge

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 18 May 2014 19:44:00 -0400

The Five Things I've Learned From Competitive Running

July 9th will commemorate the one-year anniversary of the day that I said, "I think I'm going to take up running. . . "

As I reflect on my journey, I must acknowledge the fact that in spite of my pitfalls, bad training runs, shin splints, exhaustion, dehydration, black toe nails, missing toe nails, etc., I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the positives that have come from my trials and tribulations as a competitive runner.

1. Runners are goal oriented

I always found myself to be a “what’s the business reason for doing this activity?” type of chick, but competitive running has made me really evaluate how I perceive and react to long-term and short-term goals.

Is this goal realistic? Is it measurable? Have I set a proper timeline? What are my milestones?

When I utilized those questions both on and off the trail, I became a better runner. By asking myself these questions on the trail and on the road, now when I ask myself these questions in the office, I've noticed that I've become a better businesswoman.

2. Competitive runners are ~~slightly~~ insane

Like seriously, you put your body through immense amounts of pain for weeks on end training for a race. You wake up at the butt hole crack of dawn on a Saturday just to blink and BOOM! You’re done. Weeks/months of training done, and now you get to relax…except…you’re too busy “racing” home to sign up for your next race. Or if you’re truly insane, you and your running mates sign up for your next excursion using your SmartPhones in the parking lot after the race and before your ‘post-race victory carbs.” Nuts I tell ya, just nuts.

3. Yes you can!

So, I have been teaching myself that running is about as mental as it is a physical sport. When I mentally think, “no I can’t” my body is like, “yes ho, you can!” and I find a way to push through. I’ve also learned that very rarely if I go into a run with a positive attitude my body will underperform.

Back in January I had a 5K. The entire week it had been in the single-digit weather (yes, you people from up north can kiss my rump, we southerners don’t like cold) and I almost considered backing out of the race. I was worried about injuries and things that will happen as a result from running in the cold weather. Well, I mentally said, “you got this, Coleman!” and you know what; I did the durn thang.

To date, that was the best mental and physical feeling I’ve ever had during a race and it was all because of my attitude.

4. My threshold for pain isn’t as high as I thought

I’ve had several doctors tell me that my threshold for pain is ridiculously high. When I dislocated my right knee, the ER staff was amazed that I popped my knee back into socked by myself and I didn’t pass out.

When I dislocated my left shoulder, I drove myself to the hospital (after I regained consciousness). Yes, that SOB hurt like hell, but I didn’t cry or pee my pants when they relocated my shoulder and put my tendons back in place.

When I dislocated my left knee, I pretty much played my own doctor.

So you get the idea, right? I’m a brute. However, the pains that I have experienced from running have been very different. I don’t know if it’s because I took up running at an older age, or if it’s because of my training, but my body HURTS, constantly. Like, all the time. You know, morning, noon, and night.

Arrgghhhhh!!!!!

5. Embrace the change

Competitive running has made me ~~a little more~~ fearless.

I have always been pretty bold, but when it comes to keeping myself organized, I will always hold myself back to promote others. Not any more! Crossing the finish line after I thought I was going to vomit, forced back a gnarly case of the runners trots, and told myself “hell nah, there’s no way I’m going to beat my PR, I know I have to be running at a 14:00 pace!” I will NOT sell myself short any longer. Those days have changed, ladies and gentlemen. I have begun some pretty AMAZING new ventures in my life and I owe it all to the confidence that I've obtained through running.

Hopefully I will encounter many more positives throughout my crazay adventures in running.

From the broken heart

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 23 Dec 2013 12:34:00 -0500

The pain is rough. It hurts so much. How can someone be so cutting?

May the force be with them. Because I feel broken in half.

Your actions have always shown that you care on the surface level but your feelings and needs always take president even when it's hurtful to me.

You've left me sitting and wondering. But deep down I already know what's going to happen. In your eyes it's my fault. I "just don't get you" and "but you always _."

I can't take that anymore. For the person who always sacrifices my own feelings, for the person who always minimizes my own hurt so others can bully on me, for the person who always overlooks shortcomings, for the person who let you in to their family and friends and inner-circle, to the person who always tried to show you what real friends do for each other, I just can't do this any longer.

So I'm left to hurt. You won. Now I hurt. I guess trying to be better to you than you were to me left me in a world of fuck.

Guess I lost this one.

Now I'm hurting.

At Christmas time nonetheless.

When I'm already missing my mom and coping with my family's hurt and sadness this year.

But then again, it's always about you and never about what I could be going through.

I've let you have too much control.

Don't believe me? Read the previous sentence.

Wow. That's all I can say. I pray this pain goes away soon! I do not deserve this!

Road trippin

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 21 Oct 2013 22:04:00 -0400

What I do best is drink, act an ass, embarrass myself, and have fun in public. I'm finally learning to balance life and work . . . Kind of.

My foolishness at the Biltmore ("rich people smell sweet")