March 2

Let’s Jump Into Bed

messybed3

I’ve started to make my bed each morning. This has never happened. Perhaps, psychologically I feel that if I make my bed it will help to tidy up my entire life which some days feels like a disaster. That, and it’s a small task that leaves a feeling of pride to start the day off.

My inner child is stoked.

“Yeah Mom, Dad! Take that!! I totally just made my bed!”

Life = winning.

Amessy bed1nd at the end of the day, it looks even more appealing to climb into.

But, in actuality, it’s the same level of comfort.

So, maybe this small step can be carried over into the rest of the mess. Truth is, we are all a little bit messy. Some of us aren’t exactly where we want or thought we would be in life. Relationship woes. Marriage woes. Financial woes. Emotional woes. Woe is me.

Some of us have really messy beds.

But, look closer. Is it really, ‘woe is me’?

Fuck that. Not today.

WHOA is me.

It’s all perception.

We are taught from a young age that you ‘should’ make your bed. And if you want to, go ahead. Really. I am.

Because I want to.

It can be as messy as you want it to be. (Unless you share it with someone, it might need a little compromise. I don’t have this problem… yet.) Still though, it might need a little fixing up before you crawl in – and if you make it too tightly, you might kick your feet so that it’s a bit more loose. A little breathing room, you might say. The trick is to find the right balance.

Regardless, it’s your bed. It doesn’t matter how perfect it is. It doesn’t matter how messy it is. It might change on a daily basis. Maybe you’ll go for month with nicely tucked in sheets. Maybe you’ll go for twenty years with pillows strewn across the floor.

What matters, is that it’s where magic happens. (Okay, as of lately, I don’t know what this is like, but whatever, you get the point.) It’s where magic CAN happen. It’s waiting. Calling your name. Dying for you to jump in, roll around and make love to it. How you decide to play – to explore in it is all up to you.

It’s where dreams are made.

All you have to do is show up.

(Maybe relax a little.)

Whoa…

This is a metaphor for life.

Sweet dreams.

messybed3

January 31

What Every Man Needs to Know, Period.

joy

I really am a firm believer in that what you place your intentions on, is what you manifest into your life. I know this because that is how many of my life experiences have came to be. I try to keep mine centered in positivity and gratitude in any given moment.

There is, however, one minor glitch.

They are called ovaries.

This might be an uncomfortable subject for some (mostly men), but the operating system I am currently working on is ‘Don’t Care 0.0′.

Included in this PMS inspired rant, are things important to note – pretty much ALL THE TIME. Grab your pens, men.  And a pad (of paper).

(Yes, I said ‘pens’.. there is no extra letter in there, I triple checked.)

Kudos to the women that handle PMS with grace and elegance. I certainly do not. It’s pretty hard to do so, when the walls of your insides are being torn down, forced out and you are still expected to put on a smile. During this time, it is also hard to believe that you were created from any kind of unconditionally loving energy when your guts are transformed into a grisly murder scene once a month. Whoever was responsible for creating women obviously had a vendetta to fulfill.

During this period (no pun intended) of time , every ounce of positive programming I’ve instilled into my psyche goes to shit.

Let me give you the lowdown. This may not be accurate in terms of all women (some are lucky to experience little effects), but for the most part, I think it speaks for many.

It’s a regular day. I feel happy and alive and even though I am not even remotely close to where I want to be in life, I am grateful for my many blessings. It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey. Happy happy, joy joy. La la la la la life is good. 

(Repeat the above every day for about two weeks. As you get about ten days in, start shaving off roughly 10% of the positivity every day.

Still, not too bad.

pmsEnter PMS. Roughly day 16 or so. No, this is not the real thing. It’s only PMS. Pre shark week. More like week of the killer whale – because that is what you feel like. A whale. With killer instincts. Swimming though a sea of Hormone Hell.

I’m getting moodier by the minute. Don’t worry, it only lasts for just under a week. Small potatoes.

Mmmm. Potatoes. Finely chopped into salty golden French fries, covered in gravy and cheese and more cheese and bacon anything else that’s horrible for me. I’d also like a side of an ENTIRE pizza to myself, Cheetos, Taco Time Mexi Fries (so good) and a tub of chocolate.

Oh, right. Back to the moods. They like to jump around a bit.

Not only have I been bloated for the last week from all the water retention PMS creates, but now all the exercise I’ve done in the past month has effectively gone out the window along with my good intentions. My elastic waistline pants don’t even fit because I’ve just gained seven pounds in one miserable sitting. It’s one thing to put on your skinny pants – it’s another to peel off your fat pants.

Hello, depression!

But wait, it’s not just a mild sadness – it’s a full on blah fest. I am now a 30 year old baby throwing tantrums at the drop of a hat. Give me a bottle to suck on. Filled with white wine.

The wine only causes a numbing effect – it doesn’t, however, erase the fact that every single problem in your life is magnified by a BILLION during this time.

What problems you may ask? Anything. During PMS, NOTHING goes right and EVERYTHING becomes a problem. Even the things that are actually good in life are now seen as epic disasters. Ie:

My once happy thoughts of being single and not settling are now turning into sheer misery because I’m in my prime, and I haven’t had a date in seven years – and after deciding to put myself out there again after too many horrific online dating experience, the first person I connect with turns out to be a total creep and sends me a picture of his junk after having my number for one day. I just made the best meal and I’m eating alone again. Damn that happy couple that just walked by! The universe wants me to be alone forever and no one will ever love me! Ever! Wahhhh!

The cost of living is through the roof, my only decent pair of winter boots are falling apart and I can’t afford new ones and wah! Life is a total failure! Forever! Why do I even bother anymore! I want to disappear!!! Wahh!!!

Screw all the accomplishments I’ve ever made – I’m not where I want to be in life, I don’t know where I am supposed to be, winter is too long, nothing is going right, someone cut me off on the way home from work and.. and.. and… I’m crying so hard I can’t breathe. Wahhhh!!

Everything is a sob fest. EVERYTHING.

Oh, but all is not lost!

There is a light in the dark! With the flick of a light switch, the tears have dried and I have now transformed into a hybrid between a preying mantis and a black widow spider and have all the powers of CARRIE. The Grim Reaper hath risen. Katie Kaboom is in the house.

katiekaboom

Did you just look at me the wrong way?

That’s just the emotional part.

While your body is preparing for a full on volcanic eruption – you get pre cramps. They aren’t quite like the regular cramps – they have a different sensation, but are equally as uncomfortable. Your ovaries are throbbing. Wearing a bra is like walking around in chain link armor. Migraines, nausea, fever, fatigue. Maybe even a cold, too. The water retention makes everything feel swollen. You can no longer make sound decisions because your emotions have just been through the ringer.

And the real fun hasn’t even started yet.

It is now day 20 or so and the calm before the storm sets in.

Enter, stage left. A random glimpse of happiness.

glimpse

Now it’s over.

BAM!!!!!!!!

And usually at the most inconvenient time – like in the middle of your sleep on a Sunday night, right before you have a Monday full of meetings.

meanwhile2You jolt yourself out of bed – awakened by the feeling of a rusty dagger that’s been sitting on a mound of hot charcoal – now being driven through your guts, twisting, turning and burning.

SHARK WEEK HAS ARRIVED.

The moods have subsided because the only thing you can think of is possibly performing a hysterectomy on yourself at this very moment. However, that would be dangerous and slightly irrational – so you fill up a hot bath instead – which you never really make it to, because you can’t move from the fetal position you are lying in. You are sweating through the pain, cursing your creator and praying for mercy at the same time.

Half a bottle of Tylenol 3’s and four hours later, you have finally fallen back to sleep – only for the alarm clock to go off five minutes later.

But it’s something men have never experienced, and women have always just ‘dealt’ with since the beginning of time, so skipping out on life for a day on account of your ovaries exploding doesn’t cut it. Get dressed, and prepare to be chronically tired for the next three days. (Day two is the worst). You will also need to budget time for a trip to the Ladies Room approximately every half hour. Don’t forget to put on a smile!

By day three or four you are now physically and emotionally wiped out. And it gets worse as you get older. Not to mention that, the amount of money you’ve spent on feminine products, wine, cravings, and medication up until now is almost enough to eradicate world hunger.

So, what can men do to reduce the effects of PMS?

Nothing. In fact, every time a man says they also experience PMS, a small puppy dies. It’s probably the worst thing you can say.  If you really want to experience the wrath, downing rat poison has similar side effects, although I would not recommend it.

Yes, our moods can put men through the ringer. We feel bad about it. Walking on eggshells and having everything be your fault probably isn’t easy. We don’t mean it. But, on a bright note – you can escape the emotional roller coaster to a degree.  (Only at the precise right time, of course. Don’t forget, we have PMS and likely a GPS – meaning, we WILL find you.) But, we can not escape the marathon of emotions. For those that come along for the ride – thank you.

joyAnd then, just like that – it’s over. Hallelujah! Rejoice! The sun has risen and the sea has settled. All is calm. I feel like a brand new woman! Life is wonderful!

Cash in on this wondrous, miraculous moment of time – because it will come to a crashing halt in approximately two weeks.

At the end of the day, embracing the flow is the best option. I hear menopause is a thousand times worse. Awesome! But I am sure I will still be dining for one by then (wahhh!!!) and no man will have to deal with it.

If you are not in the ‘flow’ – something is probably wrong. This is also a metaphor for life. Understanding and being aware and in tune with it all tells you that you are healthy – emotionally and physically. Period.

Who took my chocolate?!?!?

November 17

This is How I Inherited a Unicorn.

wtf

First of all, this is going to be a long one. I’ve got some magical stories but without any back story, I’m sure I probably just sound like a nut job. I also haven’t found any way to shorten my thoughts yet. Mission impossible. I’m sure I sound like a nut anyway. Whatever. Read if you wish…

Every now and then I get a little bit disgruntled with where I am at in life, and then I need to force myself to stop and remember that EVERYTHING is impermanent. This really helps when you get into a quarrel with your family or are in a shitty situation. Just remember – nothing lasts forever.

wtfSure, it’s about the journey, not the destination – which I fully understand, though it would be a bit easier if I was actually born with a thing called ‘patience’. I am trying to learn the art of patience, which given the path I’ve chosen to follow in this life time, is undoubtedly one of my ‘life lessons’ to master – if I could hurry up and learn already, that’d be f***ing stellar.

However, beyond the whole discombobulation, I find myself drawing people into my life that often spark a memory of the magical things that happen in my life – which forces me to reflect – and ultimately helps me to have gratitude and wash away any unsettling feelings. Not only that, reflecting on some of my stories – and writing them out, helps me to remember that there is a lot of behind-the-scenes magic at work, even when I can’t always see it. Things become clearer. Someone said something to me a couple weeks ago that made me recall this story, so here it is. (Thanks by the way!)

Years and years ago, I began noticing patterns in my life revolving around the number 11. I’d see 11:11 just about everywhere, and although I could have brushed it off as nothing more than the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, it was more complex than that. I’m not going to explain the whole 11:11 thing, because those that understand – do – and the rest – well there’s a thing called ‘Google’. I’ve even mapped out the search terms. Or, you can be all scholarly-like and visit your local book store. But quite honestly, it’s really something you need to figure out for yourself.

1111All I can say, is that over time I started noticing that 11s would appear more frequently in my life when I was going through a massive change, or questioning the path before me. When I couldn’t  understand how something was going to work out – it was as if it was a ‘wake up’ call telling me to sit back, be patient, keep my thoughts positive and let it manifest itself. It was a gateway to a higher level of consciousness. It was telling me that everything was happening at precisely the right time.

The number became a sign to me, and always reminded me of my spiritual essence. I can recall many, many experiences that have come to fruition that are pretty mind blowing – but if I wrote them all out here, I’d have nothing left to write in a book that I am trying to work on – again – writing and a lack of patience are not the best combo.

Before I get into this, I’ll say that I believe some people cross our paths for good reason… there are divine beings out there that are often placed right in front of us to offer a message… half the time though, we are too self absorbed to understand the magic behind it.

Where was I going with this anyway? Oh right… unicorns…

Part One to Acquiring a Unicorn…

When I was going through a kind of turmoil a few years ago, I was really questioning what to do with my life and what my place was (really no different than these days!). I had being seeing 11s everywhere and honestly it was starting to piss me off. I knew I was on the right path but things were so f***ed up, for the life of me I could not understand how they were going to work out. I had become very depressed – and it seemed like everywhere I turned I was met with a brick wall. I tried to do what I normally would – which is build something to climb over it – but I was running out of materials.

I remember waking up almost every hour – 3:11, 4:11, 5:11 and so on – for months. In the mornings, my sadness got the best of me and I could barely get out of bed. I felt lost and did not want to face the day at all.

It was one particular rock-bottom feeling day that I realized I hadn’t even gone grocery shopping and I would need to stop at the supermarket on my way out. It was 8:11am on my clock when I got into my car. I was running late for work, but I didn’t care.

I grabbed a few things to eat for the day and went to go pay. The bill was… $20.11. Meanwhile, in the corner of my eye, I could see a man get behind me at the cashier. I kept my head down, I didn’t want to talk to ANYONE that day.

The man behind me said to the cashier, “Excuse me miss, but please don’t charge this young lady, I am going to buy her lunch today”.

I remember that he was wearing a kilt. He looked like a bag piper and his silver hair was pulled back into a pony tail.

I was shocked. Tears filled my eyes. The cashier smiled and said that was very nice. I waited for the man to pay and walked out with him. I thanked him and told him that was the nicest thing that had happened to me in a long while.

He gave me a hug, wiped a tear away, and said, “Don’t worry miss, everything is going to be alright – just be patient.”

WHAT?!?!?!?!? 

I had never seen him before and I don’t know how he knew, but boy – he knew. It was as if he could see straight into my soul at the adversities I was facing.

I proceeded to my car and started to cry. He got into a van close by, and his license plate began with 111.

I started my car, shaking, crying… the CD playing in my car was on Track 11 and it was skipping on a line in the song… the line of the song sang, “don’t worry everything is going to be alright”. 

Woahhhh… that’s exactly what he said!

That’s the day I knew everything would be alright. Somehow. Some way.

Part Two to Acquiring a Unicorn…

I called him the ‘Mystery Man’. I hadn’t see him for quite some time, but that day I met him was still vivid in my memory bank. It was now about six months later and I was still in the same position. Frustrated. Not only that – I had been discovering my self in a more spiritual way – and I was confused with a lot of things. If there was anything out there guiding me, god dammit I wanted to know – because I sure didn’t feel like I believed in anything.

One weekend afternoon, I was at the Supermarket again. It was a zoo, and I happened to take the last parking space. I was sitting in my car and I remember I had glanced at the clock and it was 1:11.

Out of nowhere the Mystery Man knocked on my car window.

Holy shit.

He said “I’ve been thinking of you and just wanted to know how you were doing?”

I was a bit shocked and stuttered, “I think I am doing okay! I think things are working out.”  That was the only thing I could muster out.

unicornHe said that he had been shopping for a gift for his niece and at that moment he handed me a stuffed unicorn.

He said to me, “I bought this for my niece, but I think you need it. Believe in the things you can not see.”

Before I could say anything he walked way. Again, tears filled my eyes.

That was the moment that I knew I was being guided – even though I couldn’t see it.

I opened my car door, set my foot on my pavement – and right next to my foot was a dime and a penny – 11 cents.

I still don’t know the man’s name or who he is exactly. I’ve crossed paths with him a few times over the last couple years, sometimes I say hello and sometimes I don’t. I’ve never asked his name, because I don’t think that I am supposed to know. But, more often than not – in each passing he always delivers a message to me at a precise point in time that is aligned with exactly what is going on in my soul. He never says anything more, or anything less than what I need to hear. It’s amazing, really.

I haven’t seen him for about seven months now… the last time I ran into was when I was on my way to my usual gym – when for some reason I decided to turn around and go to another one that I had a free pass for. I just had this weird intuition that I needed to go there.

I was in the middle of my work out when he approached me. I was no longer shocked at these moments, as over the last couple years I’ve come to know a lot of magical experiences – and rather than thinking they are ‘crazy’ – they now fill me with wonder.

He said to me, “I don’t know why but you’ve been on my mind a lot lately. You should know that the universe has a very special plan for you, keep holding on because your brightest days are ahead.”

Once again.. it was exactly what I had needed to hear. The time that had been paused on my treadmill when I stopped to talk to him? 11:11.

Excuse me while I go and feed my unicorn.

 

November 4

Why You Should Hug a Writer and Then Run Like Hell

to-hell

I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching and pondering life lately, and my moods have been… well let’s just say a little bit over the top extreme. Only the people really, really close to me would know this – it’s not something I would ever publicly broadcast, or anything silly like that…

Usually, I am able to associate my over driven emotional tendencies to being a being a female – which should be explanation enough.

MoodsLately, however, it’s been a bit hard to handle.  I’ve always been a chick – as far as I know – some of the early 20’s years are a bit blurry. Either way, I should be used to it by now. (But trust me, men, you really never do get used to having a dagger driven through your guts every few weeks and the hormonal aftermath it leaves in its wake – and don’t tell me that you have to deal with it, too – because you have NO IDEA).

Regardless, because I am a woman – I need to know everything. EVERY FREAKIN’ THING.  My ups and downs lately have been a little bit more than hormones … they’ve also been in part to my spiritual wandering to find out why the hell I am here. These ‘character glitches’ I am noticing have been rearing their ugly head a bit more clearly as I find myself on another personal quest that caught me off guard and hit me harder than that chick in high school with a jealousy problem.

For that reason, I am trying to come to terms – and embrace – some of my… ummm, let’s just call them ‘eccentricities’. .

In the midst of my self exploration, I  forgot to look at my self as being a ‘creative type’… which comes with a laundry list of interesting ‘traits’. Although this may not be reason enough – at least it can be partially attributed.

Yeah… totally… that’s totally it. Riiiight.

I think.

Combine that with being a lost soul trying to break free of the shackles of society, ovaries, a rather dry love life, and full moons – and what you have is complete and utter inner chaos.

It was right around the time I started tapping into my spiritual essence that I began writing more frequently. You see, writing is one of those ‘things’ that has been with me since early childhood – when my Mother taught me to read and write before I started kindergarten. I didn’t like to speak a whole lot and I often found solace using words – in written form.

What a treat it was to skip out on learning the alphabet and read Nancy Drew novels instead. How about them Hardy Boys?! I wonder if they are single. Also, I did not mind hanging out in the teachers’ lounge washing dishes during spelling class. What kid didn’t want to chum with the grownups in a cigarette smoke infested staff room? Way. Too. Cool.

This immediately separated me from the other kids. Who the hell is this 5 year old reading novels and trying to impress us with her short stories at show and tell? She gets to skip class, again?! Wtf.

What a nerd.

Therefore, I suppressed my ability to write for most of my life. It was apparently a talent I had – according to other people – never myself. Most writers never actually think they are any good at their own skill. So, I would deny it. Over and over again. In fact, I still do.

It doesn’t help that I just read Ernest Hemingway’s Top 5 tips for great writers and I fail at all of them. Every goddamn one.

I can’t really call myself a legit ‘polished’ writer –  I don’t exactly make a living off of it, I don’t follow the ‘rules’ and I am not formally trained. I only know that my word hobby has been around since I was an awkward child.

I wanted to be ANYTHING but a writer. Next to musicians, writing is one of the least lucrative career choices there is. Race car driver, trapeze artist, lion tamer, lawyer, sewer inspector, private investigator, that chick that’s the bait to catch cheating husbands, exterminator  – please god give me any other talent BUT writing.

Clearly none of these things worked out.

“Well, why don’t you write more?” some people would ask.

“How about you just f*** off and stop asking me that. I don’t want to write.”

And so brings me to this juncture – personal journey #437 and facing some tough questions about who I am.

(For the record I still don’t know.)

trainwreckBut, I can’t be a writer. In this day and age, everyone is a writer just like everyone is a musician and everyone is a photographer. The Internet can make you a pro star anything. Secondly, why on Earth would I even want to take part in this carpal tunnel syndrome inducing activity that makes me want to pull Greek on my dishes and then saw off my sore arm/fingers with a dull butter knife? Seems crazy.

BUT…

I started to explain some of my mild excessive neurotic behavior to fellow writers and even strangers – and they would tell me, “You must be writer”.

Well that’s just f’ing great. Now other people were pointing it out, too.

Then I started to consider that I should maybe acknowledge the fact that perhaps I was a writer – or at the very least a decent wannabe writer – even though it wasn’t bringing home the bacon.

Maybe I just need to accept it. Honor it, in whatever way possible – even if it means I’ll never be an actual ‘writer writer’ per say. EVEN if it means writing a story about how much I despise writing. Regardless, it was a gift that was given to me and I’ve done my best to suppress it.

As I began to meet other writer types, I started to notice certain ‘quirks’ – some not the most flattering – but it did seem to give me a morsel of clarity into the kind of person I am.

Things are really as clear as mud now.

These ‘traits’ could really just be my own made up things to help me feel better about my own erratic behavior on this weird journey. But whatever. In case you know a few in your own life – they are also things that you should know to make your life – and theirs – a little bit easier.

You see, there’s a kind of personal hell most writers go through on a daily basis. By “most” I really “some – and by “some” I actually mean “female” and by “female” I really mean… well, me.

I am sure I am not the only one, but I’d hate to make an error in judgment and speak on behalf of any writers that are actually SANE. I don’t want to pigeon hole anyone. Although, I don’t believe that ‘sane’ and ‘writer’ belong in the same sentence – but hey, I’ve been wrong before.

(I’m using the word ‘we’ because I would like to think that I’m not the only excessive person out there. If you’re a writer and don’t carry these traits, I’m sorry. And also – please tell me your secret).

The thing about some writers is that we loathe writing. We will generally do anything – ANYTHING – to avoid writing.

Write?! Write now?? Right now?!?

to-hellNoooo….. I can’t write right now. There’s a Coronation Street marathon on TV and after that I need to go outside and shovel dog shit, cut the grass with scissors one blade at a time, organize my sock drawer, clean the furnace ducts, knit my best friend’s brother’s cousin’s dog a sweater, rearrange my closet, rearrange my ENTIRE god damn life and call (insert annoying family member here) that I never talk to.

Once that is done, then… THEN I will get to writing, FOR SURE.

Only after I have a bottle of wine.

Furthermore,

  • We always have words and ideas rolling through our head. We tell ourselves stories and sometimes we actually start believing them. Which leads me to my next point…
  • 99.999% of the time we have a story or an idea in our head and when we sit down to write it, nothing comes out. When that happens, our life is over and we become purposeless human beings… and so begins the suicide mission. When we fail at writing, we fail at every other part of life – which may not be the case in reality – but it is a story we will tell ourselves (at least this is true for me)… and quite frankly, NOTHING is going to change the fact that I feel as pointless as a broken pencil.
  • If we are able to get our ideas out – LIFE IS GREAT and the sex is better!!!… Again, this is something I don’t know (seven years single, remember) but I can only imagine.
  • The above is always remedied by wine (or whatever else your poison may be). However, it’s made worse if you fall asleep before writing your ideas down. There’s a limited time on this and if you don’t capitalize on it – you wake up feeling remorseful and so begins the cycle, again. And then you have a new problem. It’s called alcoholism.
  • Don’t correct a writer on their spelling mistakes immediately. That’s what an editor is for. Most of us wannabes are too broke and not legit enough to have an actual editor. If you do feel the need to get all nit picky, do it gently. I didn’t come here to win a Spelling Bee – I’m here to get ideas out of my head before someone cries bloody murder. I don’t care if they are in any logical order – I just want them gone asap –  because I’m not sure they monsterwritereven allow you to have a pen in the asylum. Whether or not I used the proper form of their or there – or misspelled something – is the least of my worries. I don’t even care how many tenses I’m using in the same paragraph. I’ll deal with that after.
  • Knowing you ‘should’ write but avoid it is a lot like being possessed. You know Danny Torrence in The Shining? Yeah, well, rather than ‘Red Rum’… my finger is twitching and that little demon voice is saying “Write me. Wrriiiiiitte Mee. WRITE ME.”

That all being said, writers are really a bunch colourful, caring, attentive souls with a high awareness. You should know one. Also, give them a hug. They probably need one, even though they’ll deny it. They will keep your lives interesting and full of drama all derived from their head. How creative and enticing!!!

And if you do know a writer trying to find their way in the world – keep in mind Danny’s Father, Jack Torrence in The Shining, and prepare accordingly.

Also, this might be the worst thing I’ve ever written… but who cares, my raging emotions are now justified. Sort of.

Where’s the wine?

June 10

Just Super!

mr

It never fails me, when I step into that zone of good energy – the flow – and truly focus on it – more and more miracles and synchronicities find their way into my life.

I like to call it magic. It’s out there, it happens – and the more you put out, the more you get back. Sometimes it even comes with a good chuckle.

I just got back from some travel in Europe so I’ve been on a tight budget lately, trying to get caught up on some bills. I’ve been planning to attend charity fundraiser in another city in a couple of weeks – a rather exclusive one that I wouldn’t miss for the world – and this year’s charitable focus hits close to home, so I’ve budgeting extra carefully as some folks tend to dig quite deep in their pockets at this particular event.

Details aside, I’ve been paying great attention to shifting my thoughts and focusing on gratitude, rather than ever coming from a place of lack (not just now… always.. but lately it’s been a bit more pronounced). I’ve also silently asking the universe for small miracles to help make the next few weeks less stressful.

And BAM! Just like that, they come.

It was Sunday and I had to get my usual grocery shopping done… so I head to the supermarket.  After a drive through the parking lot and seeing how busy it was, I changed my mind and decided to go somewhere else.

I finally settle on a supermarket and I couldn’t help but notice there was a guy shopping with a girl… no big deal, except for the fact that  he’s dressed like Super Mario, minus the mustache.

SUPER MARIO!

mariowingWTF.. and also, suhweet!

His jumpsuit was a bit on the tight side and I was kind of giggling a bit because I thought it was entertaining. I minded my own business and carried on… grabbing about $100 worth of stuff and (trying) to count it out in my head so that I wouldn’t go over budget (which never works and I failed math class at least twice.. lost count after the first two tries). 

I end up behind him at the till and he says to the cashier, “I’ll get this girls stuff too”. I thought that’s what I had heard but I wasn’t sure. Then he just stood there, blocking the debit machine.

I’m like, WHAT is going on?! Stunned. I don’t know who was more confused, myself or the cashier is who was also like, “Ummm what?!”

He wouldn’t move out of my way. I just stared at him with a dazed and confused, dumbfounded look in my eyes. All I could squeak out was, “Umm… that’s my stuff…”

“Yeah? And? What’s your point? I got this one covered!”

WHAT?!” No really, you don’t need to do that…”

The girl says, “No use arguing with him, I’ve tried.. doesn’t work.. and he’s Super Mario!…”

So he pays for my stuff and says, “Don’t sweat it, random act of kindness…”

So I start bagging my groceries and they walk out. I walked outside and scanned the parking lot and see them sitting in a truck, smiling and waving.

I made my way to their truck and ask him what’s with the outfit? He laughs and says, “Sunday Funday, I’m trying to get laid!”

I laughed, said thank you, and wished him well on his ‘mission’… I’m shocked still…

He says, “Pay it forward.. Keep calm and chive on!”

BEST. THING. EVER.

Sometimes I get annoyed with the whole ‘keep calm’ pop culture thing… but running into a Chiver feels pretty darn great!

calm