Friday, July 22, 2005

Warm fuzzies

I do believe, I've mentioned in the past two obssessive blogs that I'm a smidge off center these days, yes? To further enhance my unbalanced nature--we now have some new crap to add to my pile of fucked-up-ed-ness.

The warm fuzzies.

I don't like them when they pertain to me. I like them well placed with other people. I like to feel them over babies. I LOVE babies. They give me warm fuzzies. I love Angie's baby Bri--crap she's cute and she likes me too. I love Crystals baby Caitlin, who'is cute and fiesty--both junior babes in the making with moms I love. I love my buddy Isy's girls, who when I call, drop everything to talk to Auntie Dakota about Barbie's and boas. I smile--I coo...I love my pal Michelle's grandaughter Katlyn, who, after a no pressure involved can of Pringles chip sharing, is now, my bud. Lord, she was a hard sell. All warm fuzzy material. I get warm fuzzies from my sons--my friends--kittens--puppies--a fricken' Hallmark commercial, but I don't like them when they concern ME and all of my internal workings. Despite the fact that I write them everyday of my life.

I do NOT like having my stomach all doing the Riverdance. I do NOT like being giggly and girlie and stupidly breathless. I don't and you can't make me like it. LOLLOLLOLLOL

It's not a comfy place for me. In all of my 19 years of marriage I think I had ONE warm fuzzy. That was when he offered to clean the oven or something. That's it. That could also be why we're now divorced. Whatever. All I'm sayin' is I didn't have any warm nuthin'.

Now, all of a sudden, I'm doing all of the stuff I crack wise over when a friend of mine is involved with a man. The only thing left to do is gather a circle of my friends and squeal while we jump up and down. ICK. GOD, I hate the girlie crap. I love to watch others do it--I mock them as they do. No surprise there, I'm sure.

I am not good at expression. I don't mean the kind that has to do with how much I love my sons and friends--I mean all the boloney that has to do with ME and a potential emotion that might bring me harm, pain, fricken' red, swollen eyes. Puffy eyes are SO unnatractive and I only want them if I've been up all night banging someone's drum. At least, that was my intention.

I liked where I was--it was SAFE. I was dating guys and dissing them left and right. Shaking hands at dates end and thanking them for the new connection I've made at Starbucks. Discarding them like so much Kleenex, ya know? Like I said, SAFE. Going on a string of dates I didn't have to do anything else but show up and be cute. Smile seductively, bat my eyelashes, purse my sexy lips and walk away with a seductive sway. (some guy told me that I had a seductive sway to my walk and it made me all self concious about my ASS. FREAK I had no clue I did anything seductive, other than smile pretty. LOLLOL) Anyway, my ego was in tact and I was moving onto the next poor soul :)

However, this warm fuzzy crap isn't SAFE. I don't do the tingly thing well. It causes great discomfort, unease, fear, and fine-- I can say it--PANIC. I don't understand it. If I'm not in control of the force that is me, then can you imagine what the world at large will be like? I'm a whirlwind of stuff and I keep a tight lid on that--for the safety of the unsuspecting public, ya know?

So now I am a bit out of control. I have no voice in how I feel or what I CHOOSE to feel and it's tweaking me. I have no control over the stupid bubble of dumb ass jitters I get as of late. I have no control over the mental incapacitation I now suffer over possibilites. As a matter of fact, I wasn't even thinking possibilities a week ago. I was having vague thoughts about a far off, distant land called "Let's fuck" and entertaining the idea of someday having a main squeeze. It had shit to do with any warm fuzzy stuff. I was going to be in control and whomever I hooked up with was going to dig it--or I'd wave buh-bye over my shoulder with a wiggle of my fingers and I'd pick the guy I'd have that with. He wouldn't have a choice in the matter and he'd lie it that way. There was no picking me and friggin' with my thinking spot. I am the picker--not the picked.

I have different views now and it's all because someone couldn't stay the frig out of my HEAD! LOLLOLLOLLOL. Yes, Dakota has left her "comfort zone" and she's fishing around in the land of the UNKNOWN. I've never had this problem before--even if it was scary--it was usually a bad scary and that makes sense. Maybe just a little good scary? Not so good.

Not good at all--yet strangely, sorta, only a little, not bad. I squirm over it. I battle with it. I'm fighting the grinning from ear to ear shit with every breath I have left in me. I'm exhausted. My will is being broken. I'm not liking that I'm entertaining the idea of taking a chance. I don't take chances. Unless I'm gambling on whether the kids will eat the spinach I cook with dinner. I'm struggling in my own private hell of heart clenches.

I'm losing.

My mind wanders over those possibilities. The "what if" nonsense. The insecure, worried, oh, would you just let it happen stupidity. The discovery thing. I think I missed that part marrying at the tender age of 18--discovery has a new meaning at 38. I had NO CLUE who I was at 18--I have a much better sense of self now at 38. I like me. I'm good with how I look, feel, think. I accept me, faults and all. I know my weakness' and I know my strengths. Well, I thought I, what I thought was and what was, isn't. Know what I mean? Me neither. LMAO

It sucks.

I'd rather have a mamogram, which was probably my best hope of having anyone copping a feel off me. LOLLOLLOLLOL

Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, right? I, Dakota Cassidy, have a problem. I'm flippin' standing up, raising my hand proudly and decalring, "MY CHEE IS OFF CENTER AND IT SUCKS!"

I could just admit it--go with the flow--make it easy on me and the parties involved, but ya know what? That would just be too easy. I was in hell getting where I am now--everyone else can be too for the remainder of the time I'm forced to admit--I HAVE A WARM FUZZIES.


I'm just going to go do something girlie like smile and giggle now and then, I'm going to follow up with an hour full of frowning to reassure myself I haven't completely lost my will to live. LOLLOL

Dakota :)


  • At 7:27 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    It's okay, Dakota! You can have all the warm fuzzies and do all the girly stuff you want --- but I'll draw the line and we'll have an intervention when you order mauve carpet....


  • At 8:05 PM, Blogger Jaynie R said…


    If you want a jump up and down shreaking in a circle of girls then I'll volunteer to snark at ya *g*

    I'm still giggling along with you hon

  • At 8:53 PM, Anonymous Erin the Innocent said…

    and I'll point and laugh as Jaynie snarks *g*

    Try to enjoy the fuzzies okay? You're lucky to find them :)

  • At 4:26 PM, Blogger Dakota Cassidy said…

    OY, Fuzz. If I get mauve carpet--all of my will to live will cease to EXIST. LMAO

    Jaynie--quit that crap--I DO NOT jump up and down. No jumping. Oy, maybe a little. LOLLOL

    Erin, babe--I love ya. That's ALL I'll say on this. LMAO

    Dakota :)


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