Tuesday, March 12, 2019

Inspiration Cessation

I have no idea what to write about this week. Since starting this blog last October, I've had a steady stream of inspiration that drove the following week's topic. In the days following my post last Tuesday, my mind has been open to receiving the next writing adventure, only... nothing arrived. The well is drying a bit, but I don't want to skip a week over something as silly as zero inspiration.

Well, it's not completely true that I have nothing to write about. There is an ongoing list I created which holds all of my ideas and while I've dug deep into most of them, there is one I haven't yet explored. It's about feeling like an imposter in most aspects of my life. My struggle with imposter syndrome is definitely a subject that's rife with examples, thoughts and emotions, but it didn't feel right to post about that this week. The last couple of weeks I have written about subjects which were heavy and, quite honestly, more emotionally draining than I realized. Plus, I haven't figured out how to write it without eliciting an unwanted pity party. So, this week, I'm taking a little break from the heavy and trading that in for some good old triviality.

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Sitting here at my desk, staring at the screen, I'm just going to allow whatever thoughts I have to drive this post. I'm a servant to the randomness in my brain.

Basic Bitches
Lately I've been grappling with the very real possibility that I'm a "basic bitch." Now, I realize that's a derogatory term, so naturally it bummed me out that my love for Target, Starbucks Chai Lattes and Bruno Mars kicked me into a category that I have been fighting for a long time. But, why am I fighting it? Why can't I embrace this side of myself? Is it really so bad? Hell, I may as well write about it in my... oh god... BLOG. 

I decided to look up "Basic Bitch," and man, there are a lot of mean articles... mostly highlighting girls/women in Ugg boots drinking Pumpkin Spice Lattes. Now, I've never owned a pair of Uggs, nor have I ever partaken in a PSL, but I couldn't help but feel bad for the women who happen to love both of those things. The deeper tone to these articles is to highlight a spoiled, shallow, white privilege and I get that. I won't defend any of that, believe me. I mean, I live in a suburb of Denver, I'm surrounded by white privilege. I once witnessed a woman throw a tantrum at a Honda dealership because she couldn't be bothered to press a button in order to stop the automatic engine shut-off. Sitting across from her in the service lounge, I have to admit, I found myself disgusted at her first-world problem basic-ness. 

But, I do struggle with defining people, especially women, by something they wear or drink. I was looking at the women in the pictures of these trolling articles and thought about the many things I didn't know about them. There are too many cynics in this world and I refuse to be one of them. I'll have my moments, of course, but I force myself out of that dank hole of judginess so that I don't turn into something much worse in my book: Bitter Bitch. Maybe that lady getting her mani/pedi just got off a volunteer shift at a food bank. It's possible the gal sipping her iced mocha has a collection of vinyls from her grandfather who was a funk musician. Why couldn't that lady who threw a Sex and the City themed 30th birthday party also write Star Trek: The Next Generation fan fiction in her spare time?

This may be coming off as defensive, I realize, but my intention is... yeah, to defend myself and all women who just happen to like some things that society has deemed "basic." Okay, so I read, "Girl, Wash Your Face," but I hated it. Sure, I've watched Fixer Upper, but there is ZERO shiplap in my house. Fine, I do love sweater weather, but only because I run cold! If I could be so bold as to give myself a title that's more fitting... I choose to call myself Basic Lite. Even though I hoard Bed Bath and Beyond coupons, drink Pinot Grigio and wear a Fitbit, don't be fooled. I may enjoy some basic sh*t...  but I'm no boring bitch. #myjourney

Crepe Erase
After weeks of seeing a Facebook ad come up on my feed for Crepe Erase, I decided to watch the video featuring Courtney Thorne-Smith. Apparently it's a lotion that reduces "crepey" looking skin on your aging body. Seeing as how I just turned 40 a few months ago, the keeping-it-real algorithms have graced me with ads like these because apparently I have some sag-tastic skin to look forward to. I'm happy to report that currently my skin has zero crepe to it... in fact, it's as plump as a pancake. But thanks Facebook, for being the social media Debbie Downer who finds the need to remind me that soon I'll look down at my arms and find my skin resembles the discarded gift bag tissue after a birthday party. No really... thanks for getting in my head and making me crepe-paranoid.

Sidenote: Autocorrect has been correcting "crepey" to "creepy" every time and well, I've never agreed with autocorrect so hard in my life. 

Honk If You Hate Bumper Stickers!
Since when is a car a sticker book? I know bumper stickers have been around for a long time, and perhaps I'm just noticing them more now, but man, I feel like I'm reading more than I'm driving nowadays. It seems to be more prevalent here in Colorado versus Michigan as well, but I do not have the current statistics on that theory. One fact I can confirm is that bumper stickers have too much power over my emotions.

It amazes me how much people advertise about themselves via the ass end of their car. The other day, without even speaking a word to the driver, I knew he loved guns, loved 'MERICA, wanted Calvin to piss on liberals and that he had a MAN pick-up truck as evidenced by the lovely red testicles hanging off the hitch. Another driver I saw super hates that people keep moving to Colorado. She let me know that with words like Native, No Vacancy, You Got High, Now Go HOME stuck across the back window of her Explorer. These are the types of aggressive messages that get to me... not the cute family decals, miles ran in marathons or sports teams. I'm sure the point of them is to get a reaction and dammit, I hate to say they are getting many reactions from me.

I'm also fascinated by where some of these bumper stickers are sold. Below are some examples I've seen that prompt that thought:

  • I 💖 69
  • I'm a Drop an F-Bomb Kind of Mom
  • An outline of a hand doing the "shocker" (aka, two in the pink, one in the stink)
  • D.A.D.D.D. - Dads Against Daughters Dating Democrats
  • Political Correctness Offends Me
  • Kid Rock

I'm all for people expressing themselves, no matter what they love, but given the high rates of road rage incidents in the country, I am partial to keeping my politics, opinions and ideals off my car. If that's your thing, then go for it. I just know if I put my beliefs and interests on my car, that dude with the truck-nuts may purposely rear-end me... most likely because of the 25 Depeche Mode stickers.

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So, those are some of the random thoughts that have been rattling around in my brain this week. I hope I'll either figure out how to write my imposter syndrome post by next Tuesday, or that some other divine inspiration will enter my conciousness with ease. And hopefully it's not about the sudden need to buy some Crepe Erase.

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