Maybe, it’s because I’m Blonde?

grenade

 

Maybe, it’s because I’m blonde?

Nah!

It’s actually because there is a broken circuit in my mind somewhere that makes me do some really stupid stuff. I don’t just mean stupid as in putting a fork in the freezer or forgetting that I let the dog out an hour ago. I mean stupid, as in the dictionary definition of it.

a :  slow of mind

b :  given to unintelligent decisions or acts :  acting in an unintelligent or careless manner

c :  lacking intelligence or reason 

I know, it seems a bit harsh to be admitting to the world that I am, indeed, quite air-headed at times. I am a college graduate, yet can sometimes make worse decisions that a toddler. I know that the color of my hair matters very little in my decision making skills, but damn, can’t I just hang on to that excuse for just a little while longer?

Alright folks, I’ll relieve the suspense. So, what on Earth could I have done to warrant such a self-proclaiming lack of intelligence? Well…let’s begin with small stuff.

  • The very first month I started dating my boyfriend, I asked him to help me carry a couple baskets of clothes into the laundry room downstairs. Being the gentleman that he is, he obliged with no complaints. After my laundry tasks were complete, I opened up the bottle of liquid fabric softener (to be clear, I have never used it in my life until this point) and poured some into the cap. I then proceeded to empty the fabric softener into…here’s the kicker…the DRYER. My boyfriend looked appalled. “You realize you put that in the dryer, right?” he asked confusingly. “Yea.” I replied in a quick moment of panic. Although, I was a liquid fabric softener virgin, I tried to come up with a firm, unyielding reply. “I do it all the time.” He laughed, I laughed, but while I laughed I realized that I never read the back of the bottle. How could anyone in their right mind believe that this was the normal way to use this item? Well, I guess that’s the type of thing that happens when you’re me.

Thankfully, my boyfriend stuck around. For at least a good 15 minutes, I sat in the living room, face burning like wildfire, reading the back of the bottle. I was clearly, very, very wrong.

It’s sad to say that the fabric softener incident was just a few drops of water in the stupidity bucket. You might be thinking, “Well, Rhonda, it probably doesn’t get much worse than that!” But, it does. It really does.

  • One day I stopped at my local pet store to buy a bag of dog food. After lugging the heavy bag to the register, my stomach started rumbling–my lack of eating throughout the day was getting the best of me. I was starving! As the lady was ringing me out, I noticed a beautiful, delightfully decorated basket at the end of the line. Freshly made Buckeyes! 50 cents a piece! All proceeds went to the local animal shelters. I love Buckeyes! There they were, staring me down with their peanut butter and chocolate elegance, I was a sucker and bought four of them. I was so hungry that I put my bag of dog food in the back of my car and reached in the bag. The Buckeyes were huge, just glaring back at me, daring me to take a bite. Before I even made it to my seat in the car, I took one big bite and chewed…and chewed…and chewed. How odd. It was grainy, kind of tasteless, but it did not register in my mind that it might be a dog treat. For a split second I even thought that maybe this was some strange adaptation of the classic treat. It took at least one more chew before I spit it out. Yes folks, I ate half of a homemade dog treat. Damn you pet store, damn you…

Now, you might be laughing, or you might be grossed out. You might even be sitting behind your computer screen wondering why I would share these embarrassing moments with the world. Well, this year for New Year’s I’ve decided that I need to work on being more myself. I want to stop feeling all of that pressure to hide the parts of my personality that are actually quintessential to my being, whether I like it or not.

Maybe, I do some of theses things because I’m blonde. But, realistically I do these things because at times, I’m stupid. Going back to the definition:

a :  slow of mind   I was certainly slow about realizing that the Buckeye was not for human consumption. Remember, I chewed it several times.

b :  given to unintelligent decisions or acts :  acting in an unintelligent or careless manner – I was in a hurry to do laundry. I didn’t even read the instructions before I dumped it all over my freshly washed clothes. (unintelligible decision or act and careless manner)

c :  lacking intelligence or reason – I have no idea why I do this stuff. Just to remind you, these are only 2 of many, many stories. (Lack of reason)

I think that all of us can be stupid from time to time, but I also think that some of us show it more than others 😉

 

 

 

 

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The Great Tarot Reading of 2011

Gotta love the Tarot!

Gotta love the Tarot!

 

 

The Great Tarot Reading of 2011

I remember this moment, back in October of 2011, that has really made me reflect on everything that is going on in my life as of today. To many who know me, they are aware that I have never really been a religious girl, but I am spiritual. It’s hard to wrap up my beliefs into a small paragraph about what “spiritual” means to me, so instead I will describe it the best I can in just four sentences:

  1. I believe in God—just because I don’t believe in God the same way most people do, does not mean I am a non-believer.
  2. I believe in nature and the power of energy.
  3. I believe that the Bible serves a beautiful purpose by telling stories of morality, but I do NOT believe it is meant as a rule book to live by. I think that if you are a good person, who helps others and does what’s best in life and you do it the best you can, then you are a good person.
  4. No one will ever be able to convince me that God doesn’t love me because I don’t follow YOUR rules…accept it and move on.

If you have questions, comments or concerns about these statements, you should probably click out of this post and chuck it up as a loss. This is not the type of reading for you. If your open minded enough to continue, then kudos to you and thanks for at least giving it a shot.

Regardless, I digress.

October of 2011 was a rough month and year for me. Everything that I had known to be stable and worthwhile was snatched from my life in a matter of days. The one relationship I thought I could count on was the very relationship that single-handedly ruined me. The house I lived in was gone and it was turned into a lonely one bedroom apartment. My heart was heavy; my mind was weak; my pockets were drained, and even my happy-go-lucky dog seemed depressed and miserable. It all happened during midterms which added extra stress and the worst part landed on my birthday. The moving out; the fighting; the realization that love had come and gone was just the tip of the iceberg, there was so much more depression that would soon follow.

My first night in my new apartment, I barely had more than a bed with one pillow and blanket. The rest would have to wait a few days. I curled up on my bed and invited my dog to lay with me there for the first time. She excitedly circled around the top of the bed and as I closed my eyes I heard a terrible sound—the noise of urine splashing on my bed! I had nothing to clean it up with except a bath towel. That night, I slept on the floor with my jacket as a cover, and imagined that tomorrow, life would be better.

Fast forwarding a few weeks, I had come across an old tarot deck that I stashed away years ago. In an afternoon, drunken-stooper, I decided to give myself a reading…what was the worst that could happen? I drudged up some of my old reference books and watched the cards tell me the story of what my future might hold. Half-heartedly, I listened to the sound of the silence around me, inhaled the burning incense and dived into my own little world.

I was told that a great death would affect my family, but with that death, new life would soon follow. Sometimes the Death card in tarot can represent the death of “something”, not necessarily a person, so I shrugged it off. You need to see all of the cards together at the end to really understand. I was told that I would receive rewards for my hard work, but only if I was careful—it was possible that I would allow the sadness and depression to stop me from moving forward. I would get a new job, a new life, a new love. I was told about fertility and romance, about my physical being and nipping a poisonous state of mind in the bud before it got out of control. I was also warned that if I didn’t make better choices, that my world would be set ablaze. Not literally of course, but too much drinking, too much depression, too much sadness could ruin everything that I have built.

At the end of the reading I felt neglected, ripped-off. All of those cards seemed superficial; they seemed like something that any beginner tarot reader could find out. I logged them in my journal, put the cards away and continued drinking my 40 oz. of Budlight (yes, I said 40 oz., hey, what can I say, it was dark times).

So here I sit, two and a half years later, moving into my new apartment, with the love of my life—the father of my unborn child (that’s right, I’m 8 months pregnant), going through some of my things. I came across the old tarot journal I used to keep. Almost two years prior, my grandmother, who was the beloved matriarch of our whole family, passed away. It truly was the cruelest of times. I later met the man of my dreams, eventually found out we were pregnant, moved in together and voila…here we are! Although I still have 2 semesters left before graduating college, I plan on finishing. With the support of Ric and my family, I know I can do it.

What really shocked me was how accurate that reading was. It turns out that an important death did affect my family and the creation of a new life soon followed. I received rewards for my hard work: I paid off all of my debt and now have excellent credit, I ended up working for a respectable marketing firm, and I even got an old misdemeanor expunged from my record (that’s a story for another day).  I almost allowed the sadness and depression to cripple me, but instead I went to see a counselor who not only helped me mentally, but she also helped me realize that I was falling down the slippery slope of alcoholism. I did get a new job, and a new love, and a new life (for both me and baby).

As I sit back and feel the movement of my sweet, precious baby girl, I can’t help but feel amazed at how accurate that reading turned out to be. Sure, it’s possible that it was coincidence, and of course it COULD just be that I saw what I wanted to see out of it, but does that really change the meaning behind it? If I hadn’t done that memorable reading of 2011, who knows what might have happened. Maybe I wouldn’t have thought twice about my decisions, maybe I wouldn’t have acknowledged that I was creating an addiction that easily could have spun out of control. Maybe, I wouldn’t have walked down the path I did to end up here today.

Many of the religious folks will say that reading was either an act of God or an act of evil. But, I truly believe that it was God’s way of watching over me. I believe that the nature of my being was much more accepting of that reading than a church preaching or a prayer. In many ways that reading altered my course in life. I hope that one day I can pass on what I’ve learned to my daughter, but if not, that’s ok. God will reach her in the way that she knows best. It’s an interesting thing we have going for us in this life…sometimes we understand it, sometimes we don’t, but in the end we all live one, and I believe that we are in control of our paths, but occasionally we all need a little help along the way.

First Time Parenting…I’m Never Going to Sleep Again

funny

Being a first time expectant mother, I think that I have worried about everything under the sun. Sometimes, I lie awake at night wondering if I have the medical expertise to be a nurse to an infant, although I have never taken a medical class in my life. Will I be able to effectively address a boo-boo considering that two years ago I accidently cut my own hand with a knife and needed my mommy to bandage it up for me? How am I going to comfort her when she is getting a shot when I used to be terrified of them as a child?

When I’m not stressing out about finding the perfect detergent that won’t irritate her fragile skin, or finding the best bottle so she won’t have to deal with uncomfortable gas issues, I’m constantly dwelling on her safety. How do I tell her not to climb rocky hills or trees when I loved those things so much when I was a child? Those types of childhood adventures have truly paved the way to the woman I am today.  When I was a kid, I use to go outside to play and by doing so, I found a life-long love of nature that I want to share with my daughter. But how do I do that when such dark, ugly stories of kidnapped children and school shootings seem to plague this world? I wonder how I am supposed to shape and mold this beautiful little human to be resilient yet hopeful.  I want to keep her so safe that nothing can ever harm her, but I also know that sheltering her will hurt her more than help her. How do I teach her to be strong and independent, but still make sure she knows that her father and I will know what’s best?

I think about how I’m going to have the “the talk” with her about the birds and the bees when she is a teenager. How do I make her understand that respecting herself will get her so much further in life than allowing others to take advantage of her because she wants attention? How do I teach her to be kind to others even when others are not so kind to her? How do I tell her that there is a difference between unconditional love and infatuation? I need her to know that her family will always be there for her, even when the boy she likes in school breaks her heart. I want her to know that people’s feelings are important and not something to play with, but I also want her to know that sometimes people will hurt her feelings and it is ok to feel sad about it as long as she remains strong afterwards. There are so many lessons that I will need to teach her, some of them I still haven’t learned myself. These are the things that keep me up at night.

But, at the end of the evening, when my eyes begin to close, a moment of peace overwhelms me. I can’t use any of these worries to foreshadow my parenting. Every mother and father wonder about how they will do when it comes to raising a child. Some succeed and some don’t, some do their best and get the worst and some do their worst and still end up with the best. All I can say it that I will give it my all. At the end of the day, as long as she has two parents who love her so much that they would give their life for her; they would sacrifice themselves for her; they will always protect her, then everything will turn out alright. Her father and I will be lucky, because in many ways we will be raising a child, but in so many more ways, she will be raising us.

Rhonda M. Farabee

Until Next Time!

The Unveiling of a Painted Soul

Water Red Heart

Ever since New Year’s Eve, the entire world around me changed. My family and I had lost one of the most influential people of our lifetime. My grandmother was incredibly strong and damn, was she feisty. I’m pretty sure that she wasn’t afraid of anything. Even if she was, you would never be able to detect it. Even during her last few days with us, when her world was surrounded by concerned loved ones and medical personnel, she was still doing her best to keep us calm.

As crazy as it all was, I’m glad to know that my grandmother is in a better place, and not a day goes by where I don’t feel her spirit in some way. This is why I felt the need for a personal reflection on these past six months. If you have ever lost someone you love, then odds are you’ll understand. A few things I’ve learned from my grandmother:

If they don’t like it, then they don’t have to look: When I was a kid, I had my hair cut really short. One of my aunts was a “practicing beautician” and decided that I should be one of her victims. As I walked around school with my boyish haircut, I would cry because of all the mean comments that the other kids would make. My mother did the best she could to help me through this time, but it was my grandmother’s wisdom that stuck with me. She always reminded me that I don’t have to please other people. In the end, it was how I felt about myself that mattered. This advice has stuck with me to this very day.

You need to find a good man: When my last relationship burned down to the very essence of nothingness, my grandma reminded me that there was still someone out there that would be loyal and loving. Even though I argued that no such person would ever exist, she promised me that he was out there. It wasn’t until two weeks ago, that I looked up at the sky and whispered “Thanks Mom (grandma), it turns out you were right, but then again, you always are.” Through a crazy leap of faith, I found my Prince Charming. He fills my world with so much happiness that I forget what pain feels like. I never thought that would be possible, and I thank God, the spirits and my grandmother every day.

If it happens, it happens, but it always happens for a reason: These words seem so simple, yet they are so profound. You can’t stop certain situations from happening. You can’t stop people from making certain decisions, and you can’t stop acts of fate or destiny. A few months ago, I had a rough patch. My paycheck kept bouncing, my car broke down, people that I grew up with kept unexpectedly dying, and I felt like I was entirely alone. I couldn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. But, just like everyone else who feels lost and alone, I pushed through. I had to keep living because if I didn’t I would be wasting my life. And although the sadness can cloud our optimism for the future, it’s imperative that we hang on because in the end, it all happens for a reason. If I wasn’t in constant peril about my bounced checks, I never would have become motivated enough to find a new job. If I hadn’t decided to admit to my mistakes and apologize to those I’ve wronged, I never would have found Charming. If I hadn’t lost so many people that I loved and cared for, I never would have been reminded to show love to those who are still here today. We can never predict our future, but we can choose to believe in it.

***This is for my grandma! She inspired me to do better, to be better and she often reminded me that sometimes the best advice was the kind that no one ever listens to. Love you Mom (grandma)! Thank you for watching over all of us!

Yours truly,

Rhonda M. Farabee

My Psychology of Procrastination

My Psychology of Procrastination

  • My brain tries, with all of its might, to come up with every possible excuse to delay my body from moving.
  • The logical side of me fights; exhausting the remaining parts of my mentality that actually wanted to get up and do something.
  • Once the internal battle begins, the external war ends. Expelling all of that energy between mind and logic is just too much for my physical well-being; I’m so tired. Suddenly, the intensity of the job/project becomes too much for me to handle at the moment, and I feel as though I need a break. Some television should do the trick.
  • Once I’m sucked into the entertainment world, I realize how hard of a worker I really am. This time to relax is needed. After all, I pay the bills; I bring home the bacon; I take the laundry to my mother’s house (oops…I mean the Laundromat?)  I bust my butt all day, so now the universe owes me at least one more hour of free time to watch Dexter.
  • Now that it’s 3 am, I realize that I just watched an entire season of Dexter all in one sitting. I then decide that my best option is to complete the job/project tomorrow morning before I go to school/work.
  • I wake up twenty minutes late and promise to never procrastinate again.

 

 

Until tomorrow,

Rhonda Farabee

The Strange Misfortunes of Love

The Proverbial Pie of Love

By: Rhonda Farabee

love and amnesia

Once, my life consisted of being a half to a whole, just a piece of the proverbial pie of love. I thought that if I could just hold on to that love, that maybe, just maybe, I would find what I needed to be whole on my own. However, as most of us have experienced, love is a lot more complicated than pie.

I’ve always been a different kind of girl.

I was raised like the great saying, “it takes a village to raise a child.” For many years I lived with my mother, my grandmother, at least two aunts (occasionally three), and a cousin (sometimes up to four of them). None were married and it was a rarity to hear them talk about relationship love. But, I had always dreamed about it. I thought that someday I will find love and that happiness would overflow into the hearts and soul of my family and perhaps open their hearts to the idea of it as well.

As I grew older, unfortunately I saw first hand why the walls were placed around my family and the idea of finding my soulmate slowly began to fade away and eventually it died. As I rolled through my teenage years, I was determined to find out who I really was. I wanted my own identity completely free of a male dependency. Most girls were wearing mini skirts and low cuts tees, I was wearing pants decorated in chains and band shirts. Most girls were wearing make-up and curling their hair, I was a fan of ponytails and never woke up early enough to “put on my face”. Even as a grown adult, make-up is barely a friend of mine. Most girls looked forward to school dances, I enjoyed dancing in the park with headphones that might as well have been sewn into my ears. Overall, I was hardly a girly girl.

Now at 26, I look back at my last relationship and how much it hurt to see it fail as miserably and painfully as it did. It was the lesson that my family tried to teach me from the very first time I felt butterflies in my stomach because of a boy at school. They wanted to protect me from the hurt that they knew followed from caring about someone so much. But, like all good lessons, I had to learn it on my own. The same thought always ran through my mind; I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t look pretty enough or feel cool enough. I lacked a bubbly personality and I always spoke my mind. I couldn’t help but think that these were the reasons why love has never worked for me or my family. No one ever really loved us for who we truly were, people always wanted us to change.

This time something is different within my soul. I realized that I will never fully be whole because the people you allow into your heart are the ones that help fulfill the proverbial pie. Each slice is dedicated to a hard taught lesson, and baked with the real love in life. My prince charming may not have been MY prince after all, but my dreams for love have resurfaced. The drive has ignited a passion in me that I thought I lost long ago. It is up to me to feel worthy of being fully loved. One day someone will be strong enough to love me at my worst, not just at my best. One day a man will find it sexy that I prefer hard work over handouts. The sway of the leaves on a sweet summer day is more appealing to me than a manicure or an hour of covering up my natural look. Relationships take work, not love. Truly loving someone should come without condition, it should be effortless and honest.

Someday, love will not be more complicated than pie.