Ever looked at someone and thought, “damn, I wanna be like them”?

I like to pretend that I never do. We’re all creatures of our own lives and we’ve all got free will. At the end of the day, we can do whatever the hell we want because that’s what defines being an adult.

Or so I’d like to think.

Corporate life, stigma and often times Hollywood “guide” us into believing we need to look one way or the other. But since I was knee high to a grasshopper, I have always had this incredibly tense envy of people who purposely pushed against the grain.

In the 80s, punks with mohawked pink hair and spiky chains scared the shit out of my parents. And me? I just stared in wide-eyed fanaticism.

I had no idea how people got their hair to look like that, nor how it could be manipulated into such unnatural shapes.

But I loved it.

And to this day when I see people with fun colored hair, covered in tattoos  and or clothes styled in a way that will never come from a fashion magazine, I drool.

I drool a lot.

I become giddy in a way that is unbecoming of a 27 year old. But I just can’t help it.

I tried to go against the mold when I was younger, only to be shut down by my mother who’s ability to conform astounds me to this day. It often brings contention to our talks. I loathe normality. It’s boring.

So, these days I’m trying to capture what little bit of creativity I can muster while still maintaining an appearance acceptable at my office.

As soon as I find a hair stylist that knows how to deal with curly hair and can work with colors found in the rainbow, I plan on getting either purple or pink highlights. Maybe even both. Like I had in college.

My entire life can be defined as me attempting to move away from cookie cutter but not necessarily succeeding. I understand my mom’s inability to do anything other than conform. But it annoys the piss out of me anyway.

I just don’t want to be like that.

Stretch out, sit back, and make yourselves comfortable. I have officially moved my blog, Speak On It, to a (dot)com.

I feel like I’ve stepped into the 21st century.

I mean, I’ve had the (dot)com address since December, but being as how I am super slow and occasionally way too lazy, I didn’t start pestering Jessica for a blog design until fairly recently. And speaking of Jess from Delicious Design Studio, can I just say that I would give her my left kidney if she needed it?

I absolutely adore my new design. Not only was she super easy to reach, fantastically open to all my quirks and wicked nice to boot, but the price was right.

I mean. Truly.

I thank her from the very bottom of my lil’ ole heart.

Do yourselves a favor and hit her up for your blog (re)design!

While I’m on “thank yous” I have to extend a VERY big one to Nico. I mean, the man is fantastic in every way as it is. But he’s also hosting my blog on his server. Because he’s a fucking rock star.

I promise you all I won’t be moving again. This is now my new, permanent, home.

And I love it.

I hope you do too.

I need to let you folks in on a secret.

I can’t stand the show, Dexter.

I think it’s vile and I find no entertainment in it what so ever. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the show, Dexter is the main character and he plays a serial killer that moonlights as a police officer. Basically, he goes after the criminals he comes across and slaughters them.

It’s my opinion that killing people who killed people to show that killing is wrong is fucking stupid.

Catching my drift?

I tried to get into the show because the interwebs were all a flutter about it. But there are just some things I don’t like. And sometimes jumping on a bandwagon just leaves me bruised because I’m a klutz and easily fall off.

While I can be a down-right bitch hostile, I don’t condone unnecessary violence and I absolutely can not back the idea of murder. Capitol punishment makes me sick.

It’s also a damn waste of our tax dollars, but that’s a story for another day.

The only thing I could think of when I watched Dexter was the atrociousness of it all. I mean, that guy is sick and gave me the creeping willies.

I’m trying to figure out why so many people enjoy the show, but I just can’t wrap my head around it.

Sometimes, things happen that I can’t explain nor wrap my head around.

I’ve been having some minor, but awfully upsetting, issues at work. Last week was a big test in patience. I blew my lid a few times despite every effort not to. By Friday, I was unfocused, raw with emotion and down right exhausted.

During the day, I came across an acquaintance with whom I shot the shit for a little while. During our conversation I mentioned how badly I could use a massage, if only I could afford it. This led to me explaining how I messed up my credit in college and am working extremely hard at fixing it now. In Lehman’s terms, this means I don’t have a whole lot of spending cash. This is just something that I brought upon myself and am fully all right dealing with it.

Maybe I should learn not to discuss it so freely. The thing is, I’ve always been a bit of an over-sharer. I’d even get in trouble for it when I was young. I have no abandon, I’m not ashamed to talk about my fuck ups, and I’m honest to a fault.

I think that’s why I started blogging.

Either way, by the end of our conversation she requested that I meet with her in private for a quick word. I thought, “well…hey, maybe she’s got some advice for me and my debt?”

Well. No. Not exactly.

What she did have was a sealed manila envelope with nearly $200 in cash in it. An envelope she’d held on to because she felt “blessed” to have gotten her recent job. Money she wanted to pass on to someone deserving. In her words, she had yet to find a Church to give it to and she didn’t want to hand it off to a random homeless person.

She wanted to be sure that the gift was given to someone she felt would really benefit from it and really appreciate it.

Insert Deutlich.

With all of the super high highs and the ridiculous lows of the week, I burst into ugly tears pretty quickly. I didn’t want to accept the package because I felt that I couldn’t. Nor that I deserved it.

She wouldn’t hear any of it.

Sometimes, life can throw intense curve balls.

I can not wait for the day that I can pay it forward. And boy, will I be paying it forward…

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Also, I just wanted to say a very big, “THANK YOU!!!” to all of the 20SB members who voted for me in the awards. I was going to wait for the badges to come out before saying anything, but since I’m not sure when that may be I didn’t want to let too much time pass. You all are rock stars and I greatly appreciate winning in the one category I really, really wanted to win in: Most Opinionated.

Since I already tried to convince those non-believers of you that the brussels sprout is the best thing since sliced bread, I figured I’d continue this train of thought with beer. But first, why in the fuck is it brussels sprouts? Nobody actually pronounces the ’s’ and it bugs the crap out of me. Yet, I can’t let it go and spell it correctly anyway.

But it still looks weird. Correct or not.

Moving right along.

If you’ve never put a little bit of lemon-lime soda into your beer, you might actually be missing out. I would name a specific soda to use but I’m not sure I should be endorcing one over the other.

I’ll just tell you that my clear bubbly syrup water of choice rhymes with brite.

The thing about adding just the right touch of soda to your beer is that it makes it profoundly more tasty. I learned this trick at a bar in Germany when I was twelve, maybe thirteen. There’s even an actual name for it which varies based on what part of the country you’re in. I’ll spare you the details since the majority of you already have difficulties pronouncing Deutlich.

I think I did that on purpose.

I also learned that adding a touch of cola is quite fantastic too. Oddly enough, I loathe the red-canned version of cola except for with beer or with Jack Daniel’s. Who knows? Maybe it’s got to do with the alcohol.

And before you folks scrunch up your faces in disgust, I would suggest you try it. I brought my soda-beer concoction to a college apartment party once and it was a huge hit.

Huge.

I have witnesses.