Missed Opportunity That Has Me Buggin

It’s the middle of the week, which means the weekend is ALMOST here. Anyone got anything fun going on? I’ll be getting lost in San Fransico and hiking Big Sur with the Hubs. I can’t wait to nerd out at Alcatraz, too!

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For those who were around Monday and saw my balloon face, I’m happy to report my face has gone back to its natural saggy-self, bags under my eyes and everything, but if it’s not one thing it’s another 😉 … I missed an opportunity to inspire the kids I work with every Friday, and it’s eating me up.

Two weeks ago I put an ask out for school supply donations to help KidWorks provide for its after-school programs. Staples immediately gave me three boxes of notebooks and a promise to get back with me for the possibility of more supplies (which reminds me it’s been a week and I should probably follow up).

Because I had donations to drop off, I pulled my car up to the front and began unloading. Some of the kids in my class saw my car and started asking if I was rich, how much did I pay for this car and what do I do for a living.

Had just one asked I might’ve had enough time to respond the way I wanted to, but instead, there were about four little girls oo-ing and awing, demanding an answer. To which I replied, it’s not polite to talk about money and hadn’t you heard what none-ya said? None ya bees-wax. Cue laughter and comments about my jokes being old (wait, when did that happen?! haha).

This may sound like a reasonable response and a good lesson to learn early on, but what I wish I would’ve said was this,”I grew up just like you, so one day if you work hard enough for it, you could drive this kind of car, too.”

Ya know, a real Hallmark moment.

I fell back on what I was told growing up and it bums me out because I missed an opportunity to tell the kids (in so many words) it doesn’t matter what your financial circumstances are now, if you work hard enough and believe in yourself you too can drive around in a bright blue mustang one day.

And that’s what I needed to hear as a kid.

I get it, nobody is perfect and I shouldn’t beat myself up about this one time, so I’m going to keep repeating this until the anxiety of not responding how I wanted subsides, because next time I will have the wherewithal to express the importance of dreaming for better.

Also, their ‘you’re rich!’ statement made me extremely uncomfortable and a little offended. It’s the first time anyone has thought of me as ‘well off’ and I’m still not sure how I feel about it because I didn’t grow up rich, with a silver spoon in my mouth, and nobody gave me anything, I had to fight for it.

Now I’m torn between enjoying the fruits of my hard work and determination, and still being scrappy Shannon who pinches every penny to make sure when the bottom falls out, I can still pull myself up by my bootstraps and carry on.

It’s a strange path to be walking, and incredibly fascinating a comment from a young person can send me back to this place of uncomfortableness between how I grew up and what I’ve become. I never not want to remember my roots.

There’s no need to ignore the friction, the only way I’m going to figure out how to deal with these two worlds is by sitting in the comfortableness. Ignoring will only delay the solution. Right?

If you’re like me and have a tendency to plow through emotions that are tough to swallow, I encourage you to wade around in those uncomfortable waters to see what you come out with on the other end. You might surprise yourself with a simple solution.

10 Ways to Dare Greatly According to Brene Brown – How Many Are You Doing?

Hey, it’s Monday and my eyes and nose are so swollen I have to keep my eyebrows raised in order to see through my eyelids. No really. I tried this new face cream by Loreal and it blew my face up like a balloon. It has collagen in it and I don’t think you’re supposed to carelessly rub it all over your face, which I did because patience is not my strong suit.

Anyways, I hope everyone reading is having a good start to their week and if you’re not…at least you don’t look like this….

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Last night I started reading my first (and I’m assuming the first of many) Brene Brown book titled Daring Greatly and within the first damn page had me pegged. The fact she nailed down one of my biggest flaws regarding relationships almost sent me slamming the book shut out of pure stubbornness and refusal to believe some random stranger could know me. As if!

The line that got me was this, “keep people at a safe distance and always have an exit strategy,” and the first thing I thought was, “No! Other people do this, too? This isn’t a problem!”

For as long as I can remember, having an exit strategy has always been super important to my own mental survival and not just when it relates to relationships or connecting with others.

Whenever I’m surrounded by large crowds (parades, movie theaters, restaurants) I make sure to note where the exits are in case of an emergency. Even when I get stopped waiting for a train to pass, I leave a car length spot in front of me just in case I have to be able to maneuver out of the line of cars to safety.

Being trapped and not being able to get out is my number one fear. It’s what my nightmares depict, so it only makes sense I keep people at a safe distance paired with an equally safe (for me) exit strategy.

What’s equally as interesting is that for the past two decades I have spent a good chunk of time getting myself out of sticky, tricky, and sometimes life-threatening situations. So how come I still fear it? Do I lack self-confidence in myself or am I paranoid?

I struggle with self-confidence but not in this aspect of the word, protecting myself and staying safe has consistently been my strong suit and it’s possible I’m too good at it. So much so that I know I don’t technically need anyone to help me make big decisions or guide me through life. I’ve proved it true numerous times, so it reinforces the thought “relationships are a burden.”

This safe distance blockade I’ve built was invisible to me up until a year ago. I didn’t even know I was doing it, or aware/curious that this might be why I struggle with every relationship I’ve ever tried to have, and recently realized my technique for protection didn’t avoid my marriage.

It sucks to have to write this sentence, but it’s true. I feel like we all know marriages these days don’t last, and while I love my husband like no other and would kill for him if need be, I still have an exit strategy just in case it doesn’t work out between us in the end, because I don’t want to be unprepared for the worst and depending on someone else to get me through.

The thought of asking for help is still widely unpopular with me. I’d rather have a couple root-canals and do leg day every day of the week than ask for help.

In short, reading this book is going to be interesting. There’s a part of me who’s really excited to see where this journey of self-discovery is going to lead, with a high hope me sharing will help someone else reading.

But I’m also afraid I might recognize a few traits I’ll need to alter that will be easier said than done.

Brene Brown also gives a list of guidelines to wholehearted living that I want you to ponder, as I’ve been mentally digesting it for 24-hours now and is also what Daring Greatly helps get its readers to do.

  1. Cultivating Authenticity: Letting Go of What People Think
  2. Cultivating Self-Compassion: Letting Go of Perfectionism
  3. Cultivating a Resilient Spirit: Letting Go of Numbing and Powerlessness
  4. Cultivating Gratitude and Joy: Letting Go of Scarcity and Fear of the Dark
  5. Cultivating intuition and trusting faith: Letting Go of the Need for Certainty
  6. Cultivating Creativity: Letting Go of Comparison
  7. Cultivating Play and Rest: Letting go of Exhaustion As A Status Symbol and Productivity As Self-Worth
  8. Cultivating Calm and Stillness: Letting Go of Anxiety As a Lifestyle
  9. Cultivating Meaningful Work: Letting Go of Self-Doubt and ‘Supposed To”
  10. Cultivating Laughter, Song, and Dance: Letting Go of Being Cool and ‘Always in Control”

How many are you actively doing? I can only say two or three, possibly. I’ve never struggled with perfectionism and exhaustion as a lifestyle doesn’t seem like a thing I do, who knows, I might get to that chapter and choke on my own words.

So, to all my ladies out there still reading this long ass post—download Audible and create an account if you don’t have one because you get one FREE book as a thank you for signing up, so go read this damn book and join in on the convo with me.

Cultivate it.

Dreamin’ Ain’t Just For Fools And Artists

I knew too much about life at a young age
Spent a lot of time dreaming about better days
Where money wasn’t an issue and life went on as usual
But when I voiced any of those dreams, laughter fell down upon me
Maybe they didn’t mean it, after all, they never could afford it
Because dreamin’ was for fools and artists
Neither one can pay the mortgage.
It took two more decades before I’d voice those dreams again
And this time, I had a softer place to land
Even though I couldn’t digest it, I tried again and got better at it
For those who believe, never want me to stop dreaming
It’s been tough to silence the critics, which mostly live in my attic
But I won’t let another two decades pass, listening to a bunch of asses

-Sj.


RamblinRandol is about finding yourself and learning to love yourself again. Life is real and raw, there’s no room for perfection here. If you’d like to join the Hot Mess Express tribe where we discuss the daily struggle and bring real life to light, come hang out in my new Facebook group, here

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SMHS – Din-Din

It’s Friday, so you know what time it is. Time for #SMHS – Sh*T My Husband Says!

There’s something special about being married and by special I mean hilarious. After a certain amount of time has passed you begin to get into the deep minutia of life and crazy metaphors, conversations, and ridiculousness get exchanged.

Here’s this week’s gem.

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Some days I happily reply what’s for dinner because I’m on my game and have prepared for the week. Other days I wish I knew what it was like to be a man and have everything prepared and planned for me ahead of time and respond with ‘God gave you two hands,” even though I’m not religious but very quick-tongued. 

SMHS – Puppy Pistols

It’s Friday, so you know what time it is. Time for #SMHS – Sh*T My Husband Says!

There’s something special about being married and by special I mean hilarious. After a certain amount of time has passed you begin to get into the deep minutia of life and crazy metaphors, conversations, and ridiculousness get exchanged.

Here’s this week’s gem.

SMHS5

I honestly can’t handle him some mornings, he’s way to awake and fiesty for me, and I get up an hour earlier to run with the dogs. 

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SMHS – Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!

It’s Friday, so you know what time it is. Time for #SMHS – Sh*T My Husband Says!

There’s something special about being married and by special I mean hilarious. After a certain amount of time has passed you begin to get into the deep minutia of life and crazy metaphors, conversations, and ridiculousness get exchanged.

Here’s this week’s gem.

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What joke have you heard from your husband 100 times and then some?

You Are Worth It

You’re broken and without hope, but won’t take anyone’s lifeboat
Excuses, complaints, and worries about what-ifs send you straight to the deep dark pits
So dear friend, take our hand
It’ll only be as hard as you make it
Because there’s no judgment in our eyes
It’s never too late and you are worth it.

– Sj.

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It’s frustrating when someone close to your heart won’t help themselves and you understand it’s up to them to want to make a change. Feeling helpless sucks. 

copyright @ramblinrandol 2018

SMHS – Noodle Arms

SMHS – Sh*t my husband says.

There’s something special about being married and by special I mean hilarious. After a certain amount of time has passed you begin to get into the deep minutia of life and crazy metaphors, conversations, and ridiculousness get exchanged.

And I’m going to turn mine into a bi-weekly cartoon sitcom.  Well, cartoon may be generous but I can’t say graphic sitcom because that implies a whole other situation.

Every other Friday keep a look out for the Sh*t My Husband Says. Hope you enjoy him as much as I do.


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copyright @ramblinrandol 2018

Inhale Acceptance Exhale Caddyness

Can we all practice the art of inhaling acceptance and exhaling caddyness? I read somewhere that it takes more muscles to frown than to smile, and I’m positive it’s the same rule for being negative and choosing to be happy.

I’m guilty of gossiping and being caddy. Sometimes I even feel obligated to contribute to the office gossiping to “fit in,” which is nobody’s problem but my own. What I’m hoping to convey is my own flaw, how it makes me crazy, why I don’t want to do it anymore and how I’m going to move forward.

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It feels like the older I get, the more I notice it. Caddyness is displayed on magazine articles, social media news feeds and is circulated in office cliques. For example, the most recent article I scrolled past by HuffPost was titled, Angelina Jolie Shades Jennifer Aniston During Speech.

Why do pitting two females against one another generate clicks? Ps: the image they use as reference is a millisecond of an instance. I’m sure the second image on that camera was both of them paying attention to each other, but no one will ever ask that question because the first assumption is more exciting.

For the record I’m not even a fan of Angelina Jolie and it still bothers me because of the principle that this is a normal caddyness expected.

We’re all guilty of participating in the age old saying, get it off your chest you’ll feel better mentality, but not all thoughts need to be expressed. There’s another age old saying about misery loves company, and it shouldn’t fall on deaf ears when being paired with the notion negative energy manifests more negative energy.

This is especially toxic when done in a working environment. I’ve worked in retail, the restaurant industry and office life – no job title is safe from the drama or caddyness. Try to remember (especially if you’re in close quarters) not everyone enjoys listening to you complain about how everyone else should be living their lives and how many lingering ears can overhear you?

                *Also, can we stop using the word should? Because who are you to tell anyone how they should be doing something? Nobody wants to constantly hear how someone should be living their life, because guess what? You’re fucking up the same amount of times as everyone else – you’re no different, so who are you to judge or tell anyone anything. If you ain’t Oprah, I don’t want to hear it – actually, sorry Oprah, I still don’t want to hear it …

I think it’s safe to say, if you feel entitled in giving advice to every living soul about how they should be living, you might want to turn that voice inward and figure out why you feel obligated to tell others how to live. I have a book for you to read that might help, too.

Bottom line: a real queen helps another queen adjust her crown. It’s hard enough to be a woman and there’s no need to waste any of our personal time tearing down one another.

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I’m making a conscious effort to pause when I start to use the word should and another hard effort to not feel obligated to participate in harmful gossip.

We’re all on this ridiculous ride called life and we’re all doing the best we can. No job title is safe from the drama or caddyness, but maybe we can be the variable that causes a ripple effect.

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Dear Diary Series: December 1997 II

This Dear Diary series should get renamed to I Love [ fill in the blank] series instead. If love had a max fill line, my cup runneth over. To be honest all the love is a bit embarrassing, but if my homework was to be uncomfortable than I’d get an A+ because this week’s entry is way worse!

Quick recap: I am magic and my family is possibly magic, too. The verdict is still out on Pops but I’m convinced his love is magic (according to the drawing). I think bus crush Neil has been left in the dust of “loves lost” and have moved on to someone named Andrew. 

There’s a real possibility I try to find my yearbooks so we have some faces to go with names, but my lawyer hasn’t gotten back to me. 

JK. Lawyer is code name for conscience. 

Here is December 1997 part II.


December 11, 97
Loves
<3

December 12, 97
I love
Scooby Doo!

December 12, 97
I love Frosty the
snowman!

December 12, 97
I love
Santa

December 12, 97
and I 
the song 
of Frosty!

December 12, 97
We made a Snowman   now
we can name 
it Frosty the
Snowman!

December 12, 97
I wish
Frosty would
come to 
life.

December 12, 97
I wish
Santa could
play to
with us!

December 12, 97
I am going 
to have my Diarys for
ever

December 12, 97
I will have
my Dairy keys
for ever!

December 12 97
on homealone 
that guy
I love him

December 12, 97
On home alone
that old guy
I love him

December 14, 97
I am pen pals with my teacher and friends

December 19, 97
:)

December 12, 97
I got this
Diary on my
brithyday

December 12, 97
I got this
Diary from my
Grandma S. 

December 12, 97
On home alone this old giy is nice!!
L <3

December 13, 97
My family is
pepper, Kelly, James,
Mom, Dad. 

December 13, 97
I love
pepper

December 13, 97
I love Kelly

December 13, 97
I love James

December, 13, 97
I love Mom
pritty

December 13, 97
I love Dad
handosm

December 13, 97
And I love
myself

December 13, 97
James is
handsom.

December 14, 97
I love 
Johnny
Bravo

December 16, 97
name my eagle 
evenger

December 16, 97
I like 
the
70s dance

I love couisen
it on the adam's
family. 

I love Fester

I love Bascket
Ball

I love pepper

I love all sorts of
dogs!!!

Are you as exhausted as I am by reading all of those I Love Yous?

I sound a little manic, desperately writing down every single piece of information possible about who I love so I won’t forget. Why was I so worried about forgetting?

This phase grew from writing it down on paper to taking photos. An entire afternoon during 5th grade was spent lining up every possession I owned so each item could be photographed. An elephant never forgets, so neither should I. 

It’s entirely possible this obsessive need to remember came after my grandpa died and learned about death for the first time at  six years old. 

I’m happy to announce the anxiety driven panic has been slowly stiffened over the years, but can still rear its head when seemingly fit. 

Can we talk about the old guy from Home Alone? You know who I’m talking about, right? Shoveled snow while mean muggin and creepy music played? 

Old Man Marley ends up saving Kevin at the end and isn’t as scary as once believed. Underrated characters who turn out to be the hero in the end are my favorite. 

Oh yeah, and I’m positive my 8-year-old self would be pleased to know this diary has lasted forever. 


But I hate to tell ya kid, those keys have been long gone.

[NEXT] Oh, Santa. How I believed in your magic for far too long. I was in middle school when a friend started to pick on me about believing. I ended it the only way I knew how,

“Say Santa is real or I won’t give you your Christmas gift!” 

Like most little kids who like getting gifts, she complied. Pretty sure that was the extent of my bullying. I bullied for Santa’s sake.

If you’d like to dig up some of your old dirt and have it featured on the Dear Diary series, email it to ramblinrandol@gmail.com 

Dear Diary Series Signature - Love Shannon

PS: I think my siblings would be pleased to know I loved them so much I wrote it down a zillion times.

PSS: My spelling errors are phonetic enough that spellcheck tries to correct them to the proper spelling for me every time. 

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