What's That Quote About Sleeping When You're Dead??

Prompt: When was the last time you pulled an all-nighter? Why'd you do it? How'd you feel afterwards?

One word. VEGAS!

There is something about being in Las Vegas that helps me stay up all night...I know that they pump fake, delicious-smelling air into those casinos, and I wonder if said air is also full of, I dunno, crack cocaine maybe? I am telling you, there is speed in the air in Las Vegas. How the hell else am I able to stay awake until 7:00 in the damn morning? 7:00 in the morning is no longer being out late or out all night; 7:00 in the morning is the next day! 7:00 in the morning is, passing people for breakfast when you're on your way back to your hotel.

At home, I go to bed at 11:00. Midnight if there is something really awesome happening, and I will occasionally drink with friends until about 1:00 in the morning, but I am not 21 anymore, and I don't party all night long by any means.

But in Las Vegas, I can apparently stay up all night. And not in the way that you stay up reading or watching a movie or lounging on the sofa, but more in the way that you stay up drinking, laughing, and dancing.

I went to Vegas with my girlfriend and her sisters last month, and there we were, 7:00 in the morning on Sunday, at the bar, talking to strangers, laughing our asses off, still drinking. I wasn't even thinking about going to bed. I could probably have continued to talk and laugh and drink for another couple hours and then gotten some drunk breakfast. I tell you, there is crack in the air in New York, New York.

After crawling into bed at 7:30AM with your wasted friend next to you, there are several ways the day can progress. You either sleep it away, or you power nap it and start the party over at about 10:30. While last summer at my 30th birthday, Jenny and I were able to rally and spend the day napping slash day drinking at the pool, this trip left Kattie and I in bed til about 4:00 in the afternoon while her sisters peddled around the strip doing some shopping, and likely making fun of us for our inability to exercise any self control the night prior.

Las Vegas is its own kind of sensory overload, so maybe that has something to do with it. All of the lights, the sounds, the noise, the shows - there's just something about that place. I can't sleep there because I have to party instead. And I think that makes Vegas the most perfect place to go with girlfriends. Or on a date. Or with family. Or really anytime, for any reason.

Just know that in Vegas, I don't sleep at nighttime. So you shouldn't plan to either.

Make Time For a Good Cry

Today my counselor and I talked about expressing feelings. It is no secret that I express my emotions in a big way. I am rarely, just a little mad. When I am mad, I am explosively mad. When I am sad, I am deeply sad. When I am happy, I am very energetically happy. My feelings are loud and expressive; I don't tend to have mellow, quiet feelings.

Which is not a bad thing, for the record. The general ruling thus far is, I have the W family erratic expression of emotion, with the S family range of emotion. While the W family only expresses anger - and loudly - the S family experiences all emotions (you know, like regular humans). So a mixture of the two would be, I express all of my emotions, but I express them...not quietly.

We started talking more about my extended family, and I told her a story that my mom told me recently. When I was about to go into kindergarten, my mom dropped my brother off at Grandma's house on our way to the doctor. I had to get shots, and I was nervous. Grandma looked at me and said, "Remember, you are a W, and W's don't cry." 

When we got out to the car, my mom said, "You are half a S, and S's cry whenever we need to." 

My counselor loved this story. And by loved, I mean she wanted to talk about it for the rest of the hour I was there this morning. She took this half-a-S-half-a-W mindset and applied it to other relationships in my past, romantic ones, friendly ones, and family ones. We talked about ways that I feel disconnected from the W family - even though ones I am close to - because we don't talk about feelings and because of the walls we all have, just naturally built in front of us.

I remember being in 5th grade, when my Grandpa W died...and my dad didn't come out of his bedroom for several days. I don't remember much about the day Grandpa died or what happened, as I was still little, but I do remember snuggling on the living room floor with my mom, my brother and his stuffed dog Woof and my teddy, Pinky Bear, while we all cried - and my dad was in the bedroom, in the dark. I remember wondering if he was crying or if he was just sleeping. I don't think I had ever seen my dad cry before. And that wasn't going to be the time either. I remember tip-toeing down the hall when I had to pee, so as not to bother my dad. And I remember it being very weird going to bed at night without seeing him all day long, not even at dinner. But my dad was raised in that house. The you're-a-W-and-we-don't-cry house. The house where you yelled when you were mad and yelled when you were sad and yelled when you needed attention and yelled if someone hurt you. My dad didn't grow up in the you're-a-S-and-we-cry-if-we-need-to house, where it was ok to be sad and ok to be mad and ok to cry no matter what you were feeling.

 

Despite the genetic influence of my dad and his family, I cry when I am sad or hurt. Hell, I cry when I'm happy or excited too. Sometimes, when I am bogged down with stress, whether it is work stress, or personal stress, all I really need is a good cry. 

My mom taught me when I was five, that it's ok to cry whenever I need to. And that I don't have to hide it from anyone either. And I truly do appreciate that life lesson. Tears don't make me weak. Crying doesn't make me less of a strong woman. I am strong, independent, smart, capable...and I cry, like, all the time.

 

When No Big Deal is a Big Fucking Deal

I am not denying that I have been negative this past week.

Yes, I have bitched and moaned on Facebook about the fact that I had a flood in my apartment that was not my fault (I wasn't even home) and the ways that the maintenance staff at the property handled it incorrectly. It's annoying to me when people are incompetent, and even more annoying when their incompetence affects my daily life. I had to eat every meal at work or at Rachel'd for several days because my kitchen was so dirty I wouldn't even walk into it. I had to leave Juno at Rachel's, which is a pain in the ass for everyone, because it wasn't a safe breathing environment for my asthmatic cat. I was staying away from home as many hours as possible in case of mold growth. Not to mention the fact that having a carpet fan and a dehumidifier in an apartment is loud, obnoxious, and so. freaking. HOT.

So yea, I have been a pissy pants about it. And when I am a pissy pants about things, I vent. And this week I was venting on Facebook. And it is my Facebook page. If you're annoyed by me whining about a flood in my fucking house, don't read it. Hide me from your news feed, I don't even care. But don't tell me things like, man you're grouchy, or cheer up, or calm down, or it isn't that big of a deal. That just makes me more mad. And then I go from just being mad and annoyed at life and the world in general, to actually kinda pissed off at you specifically.

(For the record, on the apartment manager end of things, a flood - no matter how big or small - is a big fucking deal. Water intrusion is a big deal. Standing dirty-ass water with no known source, is a big deal. Extracting water from your apartment is a big deal. So just so it's clear, yes, a flood in my apartment was a big damn deal.)

Maybe it wouldn't bother you if your house was full of what came from someone else's washing machine or dishwasher, but I find it incredibly disgusting. And leaving my cat at someone else's house, upsets me. I like having my cat at home, I like having her asleep at the foot of my bed. I like snuggling with her by the fire. I don't like eating dinner and leaving my cat at my friends' houses every night. I get very frustrated when people tell me how to think or what to feel. I hate being told that I am overreacting or that something is not as bad as I am saying it is. It doesn't matter what someone else thinks; it matters what I think. Maybe I think you are under-reacting, but you're the one experiencing the feelings, so they're valid.

I have blogged in the past about how much I hate when people tell me how I "should" feel or think or act. I hate the word should. What should happen is, I should have my own feelings and thoughts, and my own emotional response to events happening around me. And people need to respect that my reactions won't always mirror theirs. And other people should have separate feelings and thoughts, and they should emotionally respond to things happening around them. And I need to respect when someone else reacts differently than I would. What should not be happening is, no one should be telling me how to feel, nor should I be telling anyone else what they should feel.

This was an emotional week. My friend's baby died, and I attended a funeral - for a FIVE WEEK OLD BABY. That is just not ok. That should not have happened. My friend should be holding her snuggly soft little boy, not trying to find motivation to pack away his clothes. That was one of the most beautiful, and most devastating memorial services I have attended - and I have unfortunately attended many. And then my cousin's sister's baby was born and had all these complications we were reading about on Facebook and all I did was worry about that baby. And then my friend told me his fucking bitch ex girlfriend won't let him see his kid all the sudden, and all I did was worry about him and worry about how this crap weighs on a child who is old enough to see what's happening. And then my fucking apartment flooded and I had just had enough bad shit for one week.

So yes, I may have overreacted or complained too much about the water in my apartment, or about not being able to bring Juno home with me. But when all you want to do is snuggle with your cat on the couch and cry your fucking eyes out about all the other, more serious, heavy-hearted shit you have running through your head, not being able to even keep said cat at home because of moldy water, is a big deal.

You never know what someone else is thinking or feeling, or what has happened in their day to make them react to something the way that they do, or to make them have the overly emotional response they have to something that you think is stupid. So stop telling people to cheer up or calm down. They may have just had the worst weekend they've ever had, watching their friend struggle to say goodbye to a brand new baby, only to come home to a flood in their apartment. Emotional responses are not black and white. Remember that the next time you tell someone that what they are experiencing is no big deal.

If Selfie is a real word...why can't horngry be, too?

Horngry: When you are so horny, you get angry. You know, like Hangry, but with sexual frustration instead of with food.

Apparently part of being friends with Rachel includes making up new words. Funny words. Awesome words. Words like horngry, which are just really great. I have had a few pretty crappy days, as my apartment flooded this weekend and my management is not addressing it adequately. I was in a particularly foul mood last night and asked Rachel what I should blog about...

Me: I need to write about something positive, something funny.
Rachel: Write about sex. Cause I'm horngry.

And a new word was immediately born into my vocabulary. I think it will be in the dictionary by 2015...where can I turn that shit into Webster anyway?

Now, for those of you who don't use, or who are not familiar with, the word HANGRY, let's start there. When you get so hungry that you actually express anger, that's hangry. Hungry + Angry = Hangry.

Hanger is something that commonly takes place in my day. I forget to eat breakfast. Often. And then about an hour before I can take lunch, I find myself tense, hot, frustrated, and often yelling. This is not abnormal behavior for me, and my friends accept it because they do the same thing. Sometimes I can feel Rachel's hanger from 5 miles away, and I call her just to tell her to eat some almonds before she talks to another resident. Hanger is a serious issue. And now you have been enlightened. Watch out for a hangry boss, friend, roommate, parent, or boyfriend/girlfriend. People who are experiencing hanger often behave poorly and say things they don't mean. They are sorry, but they can't help it.

So obviously, in the same respect, when you get so "sexually frustrated" that you express anger, you could consider yourself to be HORNGRY. Horny + Angry = Horngry. Perfect.

Unfortunately, when you are single, or when your boyfriend lives out of town, or when you're at work and having sex in your office is frowned upon, hornger is not always as easily cured as hanger. If you're hangry, all you need is a quick snack, a bite to eat, something to increase your blood sugar, and you're good to go. Hornger is not quite as easily quenched. So think ahead. Be prepared. Don't let hornger happen to you.

What You Say Doesn't Matter...But What You Mean Sure Does

I think as humans, we are genetically programmed to always say the exact wrong thing, at the exact wrong moment. 

At what moment in history did someone decide that the right thing to say when someone was missing their partner/husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/mom/dead/whoever, was "You should get out and do something, it's what X would have wanted." I mean really, who came up with that? That is so not helpful. 

I went to Vegas this past weekend with my friend Kattie and her sisters. Her youngest sister, Sarah, recently lost her husband, and apparently that is the response she keeps getting from people when she doesn't feel like doing anything, or when she feels guilty about having fun instead of grieving, or just whenever. The point being, she does not appreciate the response. And understandably so, because it is truly an idiotic thing to say. 

But it is no one's fault that somewhere a million years ago, someone decided that it's what you should say in that moment. I explained to her - because she is 21 and I am 30 and therefore I know everything - that people just want to say something, anything, to provide her with comfort...and that truthfully none of us have a clue what to say, so usually we will say something that is, in fact, idiotic. 

Additionally, when did we decide that after a funeral, you're supposed to feel better, to move on, to be ready to let go? Um, no. That is not how it works. A funeral is not a magic place where we go to get over the earth shattering loss of a loved one. I think a loss stays with you forever. A funeral is just a place to be supported and feel the love while you attempt to feel a little peace. But I feel like people forget that, and they expect you to "be better" after you've held the service and said your final farewells. I don;'t know about any of you, but I have never felt instantly better after a funeral. In fact, I usually feel worse after a funeral - probably because I am programmed to think I should feel better, or that I should have been prepared to say a final goodbye, lay someone to rest in the back of my head and get over it. And that just isn't how the mind works, and that isn't how grief takes place. 

Again, I think people just want to say something, they want to provide comfort, they want to say the right thing...but in reality, when you are suffering the loss of someone you love, words mean nothing. At least not to me. A hug means so much more to me than an awkward sentence about how my being happy would make my deceased friend happy. Don't. Say. Dumb. Shit. 

I have lost a lot of people in my life in sudden and unexpected ways, and several of them are still with me, still make me sad, still bring me tears sometimes. These are people whose funerals I attended, and did not feel better after. These are people who surely would not "want me to go out and have fun." These are people who died too soon, too young, and who I will never stop grieving the loss of. And that's fine. Grief becomes a part of you, a piece of your soul that you live with, that changes who you are. Grief has made me a more compassionate soul, has made me better able to express love and emotion, and has allowed me to cherish time better. I have also learned, through my own experience, to never tell any grieving person that it'll be ok or that they can find peace or closure after a certain number of days/weeks/months. I know that isn't how it works. 

My mom told me recently that the reason bad shit happens to us is so that the next time something bad happens to someone we love, we'll know how to help them. I love that. It's true. After losing a dear friend in high school, another in college, a man I was in love with, grandparents I cherished, an aunt who always made me laugh...I know that nothing but time will make a difference. Time is the only thing that helps grief fade into your soul. And I know all I need to do is be a reminder of love and support, even if that means I have no words, just a hug with good intentions behind it. 

The third bright star in the sky

 

I have been struggling with the "right" words to say to one of my girlfriends, as earlier this week she lost her 5 week old baby to a condition called Spinal Muscular Atrophy. I have seen countless posts on her Facebook wall about people thinking about her, praying for her, grieving for her...and every time I sit down to try and post something to let her know she has been on my mind nonstop for the past 72 hours, I have nothing. Not one word seems right, not one sentence seems good enough. How do you possibly express to someone the level of sympathy you have for them when their baby dies?

I have cried at least twice a day, every day, since I learned that Greyson had passed away. I can't think of anything worse in the world than a baby dying; how does that even happen? I have found myself thinking about him at random times throughout the day, and everything Shelly posts on Facebook brings tears to my eyes. It just isn't fair and is completely devastating.

Finally this morning it occured to me, I will never have the right words. I will never be able to say the right thing, nothing I type on a Facebook post will make her feel any better. All that I can really do is offer her my heartfelt message that I have not stopped thinking about her or her family. Because the reality is, nothing anyone says will make anything better. She lost her baby. Her son. The first child she has ever had, the first source of unconditional love she has ever experienced. Nothing I say, nothing I type, nothing I have running through my head will heal that.

And yet, when I lost my grandparents, I was able to find a little comfort in knowing that my friends were thinking about me and wishing me well, despite their inability to heal any of my heartache. So I know that while I can't make my friend feel any better, and while I can't remove any of her pain, that I need to say something so she knows I have thought of almost nothing else in the past 3 days.

The strength and the class that Shelly has shown over the past several days are truly inspiring. There is no way for me to understand or grasp the level of grief she is experiencing, and yet her posts online have remained positive, speaking of the love she has had - and will forever have - for her baby boy, expressing the gratitude she feels towards her family and friends who are supporting her, bringing her food, making her smile, and just in general speaking of love and happy moments with the baby who was taken from her after only a few short weeks. She has posted photos and videos and has continued to be thankful, grateful, and uplifting in a time where surely she is nothing more than broken. I am inspired and also heartbroken with everything she posts.

Greyson was a beautiful baby, with huge eyes and the most adorable little double chin. He was born with a knot in his umbilical cord and spent his first days in NICU, and continued to put up a fight for the next 5 weeks. And yet in so many photos, he looks happy, peaceful, healthy and strong. I have seen photos of his ten perfect baby fingers and adorable baby toes, and have seen pictures of happy family moments shared between him, his mom and dad, his uncles, his family who will love him forever. He was a lucky baby to have been born to a mother with such strength to continue to fight alongside him for his entire little life. He was lucky to have been born to a dad and two big sisters who will carry him with them for the rest of time. Greyson was a perfect, happy, beautiful baby boy, and he made an impact on countless people in only 5 weeks.

There is nothing in the world I could ever say to Shelly to take her pain away, to heal her broken heart, to fill the void in her world that will never truly fade. There is nothing I can post on Facebook, type in a blog, or send in an email to erase her genuine pain or give her any level of completeness. But what I can do, is send her my deepest sympathy, my love, and my message of shared grief, in hopes that knowing I am thinking of her may give her even the tiniest bit of comfort during a time so hard I could never comprehend it.

Thank you for sharing your baby boy with us, Shelly, and for continuing to share your grief, your pain, and your raw emotion with those of us who are reading, thinking, praying, and trying to take some of your heartache for ourselves. I know that nothing I have said has eliminated an ounce of your grief, but I do hope that knowing how many of us are holding you up does allow you to lean on us for anything you need. Your baby's story is one that has truly made a difference in my life, and I will never forget him. Sending you nothing but love and support.

Back to basics

I needed a light easy blog for today after spending the last 2 nights getting restless sleep worrying about miss Juno kitty, who had a nice little asthma episode over the weekend...she is resting up though, and feeling better. Phew!

I stole this from Juliana and thought it was just super awesome...

A: Accept people at face value. We are who we are, take us as we are and don't try to change everyone around you.
B: Be yourself. Be honest and open, be vulnerable and be kind.
C: Calm the fuck down. It's just life, let things go and have a good time.
D: Don't let fear keep you from trying new things.
E: Eat well. Eat organic & support local farmers. But sometimes, just enjoy a big bowl of ice cream.
F: Fight for what you want. Fight hard for the things you need, the things you want, and certainly the things you deserve.
G: Give to charity. It feels good, do it. Give what you can, when you can.
H: Hug the people you love. You never know what tomorrow will bring, so hug big.
I: Ignore the things you can't control that make you mad. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.
J: Jump ship! When something isn't right, get out! Make the changes you need to be happy.
K: Kiss. Kiss a lot. Make out like a teenager. It's fun!
L: Laugh. Laugh til your sides hurt, til you have tears running down your face. Find friends who make you laugh all the time, and never let them get away.
M: Meander. Take long walks. Hike for fun. Go outside and just wander.
N: Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game. Yes, I stole that one. But it's true. Don't be afraid to do what you want, even if you may fail.
O: Organize your life. Your clutter, your house, your office. Being organized just makes life simpler.
P: Pick something new and give it a whirl!
Q: Quit worrying so much. You'll be fine.
R: Right your wrongs. Apologize. Move on. Let things go.
S: Sleep! Get enough of it. Slow down and realize when you just need a nap.
T: Talk it through. Go to therapy or call your mama, but just start communicating.
U: Understand what makes other people tick...it is not the same as what makes you tick.
V: Value the people in your life. They matter, or they wouldn't be in your life...don't let them forget how important they are.
W: Work hard.
X: Uhh...x?? Shoot! Know when to make an eXit on the freeway of your life.
Y: YOLO!! You only live once. Make once enough.
Z: Find your zen. Live peacefully and find the way to do it.

I'll just be sitting here, playing nice, waiting for you to be sorry

Sometimes, we do stupid shit. We're human, it happens. Maybe we say something rude or act on an emotion that we should have kept in check. Whatever it is, it is a quality we all share, doing dumb shit. From there, though, we can be cast into two separate groups. Those of us who apologize when we fuck up, and those of us who shut down and hope it goes away if we just be extra nice.

I am someone who apologizes when I fuck up. I am also someone who needs to be apologized to before I can get over the dumb shit someone else did. If I do something that hurts someone's feelings or causes someone else grief, I generally apologize. It wasn't my intention to be hurtful, and I owe you an apology. In the same manner, I expect an apology if someone hurts my feelings. Intentional or not, you did in fact do something that upset me, and for that I am owed an apology. I don't hold a grudge if you offer me an apology, but I am guilty of not letting things go without one.

Recently, someone in my life was very disrespectful to me, and I made that person aware that they had upset me. This person did not apologize but has, instead, just been super sugary sweet and nice to me in the last few times we've seen each other. This does not work for me. I don't forgive you, and I am still angry with you, and based only on the fact that you have not yet apologized. I think the act of saying you're sorry is an important step, and I rarely let things go without it. I may continue to be nice to you, but trust me, I have not let it go. It's on my radar that you never apologized for your shitty behavior towards me.

I think a true, genuine apology is the way that you show someone that you understand what you did wrong, how you hurt someone, or how you damaged your relationship. I know that when I go to someone with an apology, it is because I recognize that I did something damaging and hurtful, and I understand that I need to awknowledge it to the person I was mean to. They deserve it. And what if, like me, they need it? What if they don't let things go until someone says their sorry? I don't want my friends holding grudges and remaining hurt or mad, or not being able to let go of a bad experience I caused. I want them to be able to accept my sincere apologies and move on.

Have you done something wrong to someone lately? When's the last time you said you were sorry?

The customer is always right...and by always, I mean almost never

If this blog post someday turns into a best selling novel, I will have to dedicate it to my cousin Sarah, for her Facebook status, which prompted today's topic: Customer service and complete & total morons.

My cousin's name is Sarah Stacey. You know, because my mom's family has a first name for a last name. And that can be very confusing to those people in the world who are the aforementioned breed of complete & total moron. It's hard when your last name is a first name, or even when your mom's maiden name is a first name for a last name...because sometimes you have to use your mother's maiden name for account security, and then the customer service rep on the phone gets mildly agitated and says, "maiden name meaning, maiden last name." Well no fucking shit, that's why I said Stacey instead of Annette.

Sarah's beef yesterday was that people keep referring to her as Stacey, even though her name is Sarah, and her work email, to which they are sending an email addressed to Stacey, is Sarah.Stacey. Now I suppose your work email address could very well be last name dot first name, but what kind of last name is Sarah? I mean, is she more likely to be Sarah Stacey, or is she more likely to be Stacey Sarah? Regardless, I understand exactly why she was irritated. It isn't because this one complete & total moron called her Stacey, because really, Stacey's a nice name and at least no one called her, hey you.

The problem is, for those of us who work our asses off in customer service and are constantly beat down by the ass holes of the world, a lack of respect and a lack of attention. If you ignore her Sarah.Stacey email address and call her Stacey, you are simply telling her that you don't care what the fuck her name is, as long as you get what you want and continue to have her, the customer service driven employee, at your beck and call. And it is the complete & total morons out there, the ones who truly believe that the customer is always right, that make it harder and harder to offer superior customer service, because in reality, you don't deserve it.

I have worked in customer service for 15 years. 15. That' half my life! And I have been on all sides of it - I have worked in retail, food & beverage, and now, property management. And it never changes. People suck. The customer is always right mentality has destroyed the world of customer service because a bunch of entitled ass hats come along and treat us poorly just because they can, and then we are expected to bend over even further for the next person.

When you work retail, people think that they can get mad because they had to stand in line, or because you are taking too long, or because they want something on sale with an expired coupon. Well guess what...sometimes, you have to stand in line for things because the store is busy. Deal with it. You don't have the right to be rude because you chose to shop at the same time as other people. When you wait tables, people think they can be rude because of any one of about 750 thousand reasons, including things taking too long, or my favorite, the fact that they chose to order something new and they don't like it. In a restaurant, you can choose to punish your server for the horrible, sub par service by withholding a tip. Seriously who does that? Do you feel proud of yourself for that? And in property management, people just like to be rude because everything is my fault, including the fact that you did not pay your rent. Wait a second...did you give me access to your bank account, blank checks, and the legal ability to pay your bills for you? No? Ok then you are wrong! See? The customer is not always right. If you are a customer and you think you are always right, trust me, you're not. And with that attitude, chances are you are almost always wrong.

What I find the most frustrating about the whole equation is, after I spend my 40 hour week kissing ass and being nice to people who don't deserve it, I stop at the store and someone behind a counter is rude when I ask where something in the store is located, or I grab a bite to eat and the server is annoyed that I am not immediately ready to order, or I call Comcast to pay my bill and they act like I am inconveniencing them by not paying online. Well, your rep set up my account wrong and you won't help me fix it, so I can't get online. Don't you think I'd rather pay online than wait on hold for 30 minutes just so you can be a bitch to me?

What's your mom's maiden name?
Stacey.
No her LAST name.
STACEY!
What's your date of birth?
8-3-83
*Scoff*
You're right, I am lying. I made up that birth date and have falsified all of my documents with it because it's funny that it's 8383.

People suck. Most customers are wrong. There is a lot of really shitty customer service out there, and for those of us doing our jobs well, being nice, kissing ass, and bending over backwards for our customers, there's not much patience left for bad service when we finally get to be the customer. Your job as the customer service rep, or the vendor, or the supplier, or the employee, is to know our name, especially when our full name is included in an email. Your job is to address us politely as a customer or as an employer. Your job is to maintain the mentality that the customer is always right...even though we are not always right.

Milestones with Zero the Hero

One of my fondest memories from Kindergarten was visits from Zero the Hero. Zero the Hero came to see us on days that had the number 0 in them - he helped us learned to count, obviously, but his visits were very exciting. He came on days 10, 20, 30, and so on. And he certainly made his presence known on the Big Day. Day 100. Day 100 was a big day. A class party kinda day. I bet there was cookies from Zero the Hero on Day 100. It was probably his birthday or something.

Why am I bringing this up? Simple. Today is my one hundredth blog post!

I started my initial blog challenge with several goals: to write every day, to increase the number of people who read what I write, to write things that matter. Seemed easy enough, right?

I have written almost every day. Not quite. There are some days where I am just not motivated and have nothing of relevance to say, so I don't write. There are some days where I can't stop thinking and end up posting two blogs in a day. So I'm sure it evens out, but the point is, I am now exercising my mind almost daily, which is what I set out to do. And I am loving it. Sometimes I use a challenge found online to provoke my thoughts and get my mind working, sometimes I just have a topic or a word or a quote that I feel like elaborating on, and sometimes I just write mind clutter that looks like word vomit on the screen. But hey, I'm writing. And that was the point.

My blog is being read by so many people, I can't believe it. And not just my family and a small circle of friends like when I started, but by strangers, by old coworkers, long-time friends, extended family. I have learned that by sharing each post on Google+, Twitter, and Pinterest, I am bringing in strangers - and I love that! I love logging in and viewing the stats on my page and seeing that what used to be one or two page views in a day, has now become 65-100 page views in a day...how exciting for a writer! My most awesome posts ever, such as "How to get a thigh gap and take over the world" have been read over 200 times. Love that! I am excited about the response I got from people wanting to keep reading when I was considering making the whole thing an invitation only private blog, and I am so glad I left it public. Keep reading, friends (and strangers)!

Write what matters? Who decides that? Well, I think I do, being that I am the one writing. I have learned some pretty valuable lessons so far in my journey - most importantly, that even on the days where I post word vomit, I tend to have someone message me or comment that "this was one of my favorites." People are reading my writing because they like it, not because they are looking for some perfect post with a clear and concise message. Can every single one of my blog posts be turned into a book? No. But there are a few gems in here that I really think can. And the only way to get to the treasures is to practice, to post the word vomit, to continue to write about the things that matter to me - even if they only matter for a fleeting few moments while I am writing them.

What I learned from Zero the Hero is that 100 is a big deal. 100 is important. It is big and has an extra zero. It is a nice, round, even number and it makes noise when it comes into the room. And so, I know that 100 blog posts is a big deal. 100 blog posts is important. 100 makes me very proud.

There are 365 days in the year 2014. We are on day 8. This is my 9th post in 8 days. For 2014, my goal is to post at least 300 blogs. Remember that, you read it here: 300. That is much bigger than 100. But it is also a very exciting thought for a writer. 300. Ready. Set. Go.