04.23.13

Monday Dare: I need protection. From myself.

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Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or find out more about its origin.

This week: Anger management

My number one desire in life is to be less of a hoarder. I also want my daughter to grow up to be a profoundly happy person. I hope that even on the days she is feeling blue, she is surrounded by a shitload of people who appreciate her inner-core and help her to see that this too shall pass. But that’s a hope I have for someone else. I really want to focus on me right now, so yes, my number one desire in life is to stop amassing mounds of useless junk.

I’m guilty of hoarding objects. My animal pencil topper collection is pretty intense. The entire collection is housed in an airtight see-through container because most of them have a distinct yet subtle scent, and every time I open the lid, I am greeted with a cornucopia of fruity goodness. It’s very appealing to me.

But more than my collections of pencil toppers and rap lyric t-shirts and metallic tinsel, the “thing” that occupies the most amount of space in my life is the dirty pile of anger I have stacked, one rage-filled thought after another, in the middle place where my heart should be.

I’m just angry as fuck.

It’s hard to recall anything I learned in high school which is understandable because I wasn’t really paying attention, but I do remember learning in biology that 60% of the human body is comprised of water. This confuses me, because if I had to guesstimate, I’d say that anger makes up roughly 81% of who I am. Apparently, every drop of liquid coursing through my body (plus a few organs) has a high level of fuck you, motherfucker.

I’ve been amassing rage like it’s currency.

I no longer trust myself. Sometimes, I call Harv to ask if I “should” be angry about something because I’m guilty of overreacting to small offenses, and maybe even worse than that, I don’t react at all in some situations where I should voice concern and disapproval.

Over the weekend, a random dude pinched my cheek. Now that I’m thinking about it, I feel a little embarrassed. I must look like the kind of person you can cheek pinch. Would anyone dare take a chunk of Ludacris’s face meat between their thumb and pointer finger? I DON’T THINK SO. This man didn’t think I was participating enough in the group conversation and pinched my cheek. I stood up because I wanted to gain better leverage and force before I smashed my hand into his temple.

My cousin stepped in and stood just inches away from my face before telling me to leave immediately. Which I did. Because I was enraged and because I felt such an overwhelming desire to be physically confrontational and because I didn’t trust myself.

Violence is never, ever the answer. Never. Ever. Ever. I’m ashamed and riddled with guilt that my thoughts could even venture into that territory. Yet, I am still seething.

I’ve resisted going back into therapy because I’m afraid that once all of my anger is gone, there will just be an expansive hole. I could, of course, fill it with other things like arrogance or laziness. Laziness is the front runner right now because I already have a lot of experience with it, and it just seems to come naturally.

I’m enrolling in an anger management class this week. I want to be a better example for my daughter. Also, I want to stay out of jail.

Stay connected on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page and on Instagram (username: flourishinprogress) for (t)hug life thoughts, random shit, and not-seen-on-this-blog pictures.

image via Meme Machine

April 23, 2013
12.18.12

Monday Dare (& Giveaway): Even at the age of 7, I was an asshole

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(A Monday Dare on a TUESDAY? MY BAD. I’m finally on WORDPRESS, motherfuckers. How do you like the new blog design? Old comments are still transferring over, but don’t worry, I GOT THIS.)

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. Click on the link to see the complete list of Monday Dares or to learn more about its origin.

This week: More contentment, more of the time

I find holiday gift exchanges daunting. Now that I’m thinking about it, let’s replace “daunting” with “mentally draining and traumatizing to the psyche.” White Elephant swaps require the most emotional preparation because I know I’m going to be opening up some bullshit that’s been rolling around in the bottom of a linen closet or a storm drain. Not only will I muster up an audible laugh to seem good-natured, but I’ll make some kind of gesture with my hand like a thumbs up or a gang sign to let people know I’m really embracing the silly side of the holiday season.

Even when the participants are supposed to bring “good” gifts, I always end up picking the one item in the communal pile that would make even Jesus cry. When will it be my year to take home the snowflake-shaped gylcerin soap set smelling faintly of pine and happiness instead of the rubber balls I’m supposed to hang off the bumper of a truck I don’t own? WHEN??

I try to temper my dissatisfaction and urge to acquire a whole new set of friends by thinking about Sophia.

The last time I saw Sophia, we were both 7. At the beginning of our second grade holiday party, all of the kids sat in a circle with the gift we brought for the exchange. Mrs. Tubb played a Christmas carol on her tape deck, and whatever was in our hands when the music stopped was ours. No swaps. No whining. I didn’t care who’s gift I got, but I didn’t want Sophia’s. She was the only one who had wrapped her box in newspaper. It was the Sunday Comics Section, but still, I just knew in my little asshole heart that it wasn’t going to be anything “good.”

While the other kids ripped open their gifts right there on the floor, I took my comic strip covered box back to my desk and peeled back one piece of tape at a time. Inside, I found a pair L.A. Gear leg warmers. Sophia walked over. “My grandma and I picked them out together. They’re so pretty.” When I didn’t respond, she went back to her desk and starting coloring with her gift, a brand new box of crayons. I heard her singing softly as I folded the leg warmers in half and stuffed them back into the box.

Sophia didn’t come back to Mrs. Tubb’s class after winter break. I never saw her again. I still wonder why she didn’t tell anyone she was moving. I wonder if she even knew herself.

My L.A. Gear leg warmers are still folded in half in my sock drawer. I think of Sophia often. I think about how content she was with her gift. I think about how some people are able to find joy in small everyday things. I think about how even now, at the age of 32, I could learn so much from that 7-year-old.

Sophia, you’re right. They are so pretty.

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I FUCKING LOVE PRESENTS giveaway #5

I fucking love presents. Maybe you do too. To celebrate this holiday season, I’ll be doing a giveaway each week until the end of the year. Get connected on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page and on Instagram (username: flourishinprogress) for giveaway updates, not-posted-on-this-blog pictures, (t)hug life thoughts, and other random shit.

This week: Besotted Brand Custom Monogram Stamp

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If I’m being real, I can’t even believe Tristan, the creative GENIUS behind Besotted Brand, agreed to be part of the holiday giveaways. Her custom stamps and paper products are some of my favorite things. I love fancy shit, and Besotted’s high quality everything makes it easy to give beautiful custom gifts to others…and to myself. Tristan will create one custom-designed monogram stamp for the lucky winner.

TO ENTER: Leave a comment below with a holiday gift exchange item you’ve given or received. (P.S. What do you think of the new blog design?) Only comments left on THIS POST qualify.

LAST WEEK’S TRILOGY WINNER: Steph (the first part of your email is SCYLE) Please email me at flourishinprogress at gmail dot com with your address.

first image via blueq.com, second and third images courtesy of Besotted Brand
December 18, 2012
12.04.12

Monday Dare (& Giveaway!): I see you on that Facebook Grind

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. Click on the link to see the complete list of Monday Dares or to learn more about its origin.

This week: Put down the goddamn phone

Sometimes, I like to play “What Would You Save If Your House Were Burning Down And You Could Only Take Three Things And Don’t Say Your Heirloom Dining Room Table Cuz Ain’t No One Strong Enough To Carry A Goddamn Solid Oak Table” with my friends. I’ve overheard a few snickers and complaints about the length of the title, but I don’t let it get to me. Hateful words often stem from jealousy. Not everyone has a flair for Game Naming.

My mint-condition collection of Yo! MTV Raps trading cards were part of My Three until recently when I had all the good ones matted and framed. I’ll be the first to admit my physical limitations. My shoulder muscles aren’t developed enough to carry an extremely large Rap Shrine.

I’d save Cal’s baby book even though I stopped updating it when she was four months old because clearly, I’m just too lazy to do even one thing right for my only child. Whenever friends and family ask to see recent pictures of Cal, I just tell them to “Facebook that shit, motherfucker.”

I thought about saying some socially acceptable answers for my other items, but that’s not how our friendship works, and I honor that.

I would save my iPhone. Everyone always responds with three items, but I don’t need that many. When you’ve got a mostly empty baby book and your best friend, what more do you need?

Vincent (don’t even try to pretend that your phone doesn’t have a name too) and I have been through a lot. We recently took a trip to San Francisco together:

I saved this picture on my computer as BestBuddies.jpg. It probably would have been a much better shot if my three friends from the Ghetto Genius Crew weren’t crowded around us. Jay Wunder, the Ghetto Genius himself, wrote afterwards on his site:Flo-Rich was glued to her fucking phone Facebooking, Twittering and Instagramming so much that Anonymous pulled her ass to the side and said she was two posts away from a goddamn intervention. 

I made an effort to keep Vincent in my purse the next evening, but my hands weren’t used to being unoccupied. My ears weren’t used to the silence. The constant ding of emails and texts and tweets and notifications from Facebook and Instagram and Words with Friends and phone calls and weather alerts is what lets me know I’M ALIVE, BITCHES.

I slipped away and locked myself in a bathroom stall. Maybe I took too long, but I’m sure there are perfectly good explanations for being in a public restroom for 47 minutes, none of which I could think of when I heard a knock on the stall door: “I SEE YOU ON THAT FACEBOOK GRIND. PUT DOWN YOUR PHONE.”The first step is admitting I have a problem. That’s what I learned from my friend H-Bomb during my intervention inside the women’s restroom at O’Reilly’s

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I FUCKING LOVE PRESENTS giveaway #3

I fucking love presents. Maybe you do too. To celebrate this holiday season, I’ll be doing a giveaway each week until the end of the year. Get connected on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page, on Instagram (username: flourishinprogress), and on Twitter (@ElizabethJLiu) for giveaway updates, (t)hug life thoughts, pictures, and other random shit.

This week: MNKR “Fuck the Fuckers” T-shirts Giveaway

I proudly wear this t-shirt in public all the time. Except when I have to go to PTA meetings. Then, I’ll throw a delicate cardigan over it, and all you can read is “UC H CKE.” Yesterday, I bumped into Kandace, one of the brains behind MNKR’s fierce line of apparel and accessories, and she generously offered TWO Fuck the Fuckers t-shirts (one women’s, one men’s) for this giveaway. Thanks, Kandace!

TO ENTER: Leave a comment below with the three things you would save if we were playing ”What Would You Save If Your House Were Burning Down And You Could Only Take Three Things And Don’t Say Your Heirloom Dining Room Table Cuz Ain’t No One Strong Enough To Carry A Goddamn Solid Oak Table.” Only comments left on THIS POST qualify. I’ll announce a winner next Monday.LAST WEEK’S SKULL NECKLACE WINNER: Danielle with the numbers 0212 in your email address. Please email me at flourishinprogress at gmail dot com.

first image via pinterest
December 4, 2012