Heh. If that title were the truth, then life would be awesome right now. My mom left me a note card on my fridge with a cut out from Reader’s Digest. It’s a quote from an interview with Renee Zellweger.

Interviewer: Do you have any regrets about mistakes you’ve made?

RZ: No way! I embrace my mistakes. I use them as learning experiences. Because in all honesty, who wants to leave here dumber than you started?

Life is so confusing. People take things out of context. Intentions are mis-read. Feelings are hurt. People aren’t who you thought they were. All bad things seem to happen at once. Do you ever want to take a break from this game called life? Sometimes I think I’m running a race I don’t really want to win at all. And that makes me think.

Hell, I know that I have several times over the past few years, and this might be another one of those times. Even the best intentions can hurt people that you love, and unfortunately that’s just how it goes. It’s ironic how one day, your life can be perfect. And the next, not so much. That one Doctor’s appointment you missed. The one conversation you didn’t have but should have. The one trip to the vet that you put off and put off until there’s nothing more they can do.

And I haven’t learned as much as I thought I had in my 27 years on earth, so it seems. At the end of the day, I guess all I have is what I know to be true. I have to embrace my mistakes, I guess. Even if I don’t really think of them as mistakes, you know? And hope that the people I love can realize why I made them. If they love me, they’ll realize that I’m human, just like them- right?

And I know you’re probably thinking, HELL! Take some Xanax. PULEASE. Don’t worry Grasshoppa. I don’t think that’s going to solve anything. So my break from life? All kinds of messed up. So messed up that I can hardly see straight. My therapist used to say “regret is a useless emotion,” and she’s right. It is. But even when you’re 100% true to yourself, and everything seems perfect in your world, that doesn’t mean that everyone else will agree. And regret starts to seep in.  The would’ve, should’ve, could’ve’s take over your thoughts. And it sucks. Real bad.

I have had huge revalations in my life in the past 8 days. Huge. About the person I want to be. About the relationship I want to have with God. About the relationships I want to have with other people. And I hope the people who love me will stick around for the ride, because I have no where else to go but up. And I can’t wait to see how it turns out.

On another note, I remember this song, and googled it (surprise, surprise) the other day. It’s good. Really good. About life.

The lyrics to Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen,

by Mary Schmich:

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

So as you might have guessed, things kind of came to a screeching halt here in Appleland, self responsible. You see, over the last couple of months I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve learned that I’m the only person that can make me happy- and that I should love me first and foremost. And with that being said, SMF and I broke up. And I have nothing bad to say about it, except that sometimes things don’t work out like you might have thought they would. And everyone deserves to be adored and prioritized and loved. SMF and I had a lot of fun together and were (might possibly one day still be) great friends. In fact, he was probably one of my very best friends. But in the end, I just wanted what everyone seems to want- I wanted to be wanted.

And it’s okay and it’s really no one’s fault. I’m sure we’ll still see each other and really I have no bad feelings toward him. I mean, we share the exact same friend group. And while part of me wanted to crawl up into a bubble bath with a bottle of wine and listen to sad music- the other part of me has decided that life is too short. Because if one thing’s for certain- life goes on.

Life just shouldn’t be so complicated sometimes, and that’s probably the most important thing I’ve learned over the last six months. And I kind of admit that it’s hard to write this post, but getting it out there and just putting it in writing and moving forward has made all the difference. Wow! I bet I weigh 10 pounds less- because my shoulders feel great! Anywho- no need to ask how SMF is anymore. Because in my mind, he’s doing fine, and is probably much happier as well. And I WANT him to be happy.

But enough with the depressing, slit my wrist, teenager angst. On to happier things- like FREAKING CHRISTMAS IS 22 DAYS AWAY! YAY! Frank has demolished my Christmas tree. Tucker has demolished my manger scene. It’s a regular merry freaking Christmas around my house, let me tell ya!

Fat Tucker likes to sleep in the manger with baby Jesus. Unfortunately, a 23 pound cat and a 1 pound manger scene don’t go together. I like to think Tucker feels closer to God this way:

Dear Baby Jesus, my owner is nuts.

See that triangle-ish thing behind his head? THAT folks, is the manger scene. He also likes the snowmen. I mean, my Charlie Brown Christmas decorations are a total hit with the cats. The humans? Not so much….

I am fat. I make out with snowmen for fun. Do not tell anyone that the snowmen are not real.

And in case you were wondering:

Christmas Ornaments: 0

Frank: 14

I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It’s not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love. -Charlie Brown

Hello there. Here I am. Now with extra Holiday! Cheer! I’ve got Christmas lights coming out of my ass!! I’m so freaking happy about it! I feel like Charlie Brown. I do love Christmas. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just the 1) Getting shit out of the closet 2) fluffing the tree (whoever invented this should be shot, immediately) and 3) putting the lights on said tree that drives me completely insane. But last night, I decided, with some wine, to go ahead and tackle the monster. And while all was not Holy and Bright in my apartment during the event, there is one demon who 100% appreciates the newly acquired forest of fun he now has to play in:

Meet Frank, Master of breaking Christmas ornaments....

Wait? You couldn’t find Frank in the picture? Really? Look closer. Notice how my Charlie Brown Christmas tree has many different strings of lights- some with green strings, and some with white. I like to call this my version of a “white trash Christmas.” (In the meantime, my constant obsession with teaching my dog to bark ‘Grandma got run over by a reindeer” is on hold.) Also notice there is no tree skirt. (Just a blanket from Walmart.) Do you want to know why?

Well I don’t care if you want to know or not- but last year, the beast known as Mr. Fat ass Tucker cat peed on it. He said Merry F’ing Christmas to all of you, assholes- I’m going to pee on your presents. And if you don’t like it? I don’t care. I’ll be long gone hiding under the bed by the time you get a whiff of my present to you. (On a side note, my cat does not drink ammonia, so why does his pee smell like it?) So the tree skirt is taking an extended vacation at the city dump.

It’s sure to be an interesting holiday season around my abode. So far, the tally is:

Christmas Ornaments: 0

Frank: 2

MERRRRRRRRRY THANKSGIVING!

]]> http://ashleyapple.wordpress.com/2009/11/24/i-never-thought-it-was-such-a-bad-little-tree-its-not-bad-at-all-really-maybe-it-just-needs-a-little-love/feed/ 0 Apple frank http://ashleyapple.wordpress.com/2009/11/20/i-love-work-worky-work-work-here-it-goes-down-into-my-belly/ http://ashleyapple.wordpress.com/2009/11/20/i-love-work-worky-work-work-here-it-goes-down-into-my-belly/#comments Fri, 20 Nov 2009 16:07:36 +0000 Ashley http://ashleyapple.wordpress.com/?p=1331 ]]>

So, I’ve been working and stuff (IMAGINE! THE HORROR!) and haven’t really had time to update, but guess what? I’m probably the lamest person on the Planet of Lame these days, so it’s probably a good thing for you!  (Except fo the wine. The wine makes me 10 X less lame. Unfortunately drinking with with your cat named Frank is not really something my therapist would say is ‘normal.’)

However, I happened to stumble upon the following site this morning:

http://psychoticlettersfrommen.blogspot.com/

Holy Shit Batman! You have to check it out. Hiiiiilarious. ALSO, my favoritest favorite blogger of all time is BACK and I heart her. She is the. funniest. person. ever. FO EVA EVA.

www.missdoxie.com

Now, I will resume my regularly scheduled medical chronology-ing.  Also. I’m going to the Aggie v. Baylor football game this weekend.  I haven’t been back to College stationin ages. Unfortunately the Aggies are terrible, but I think it’ll be fun!

Happy Weekend, grasshoppa.

So maybe you knew, and maybe you didn’t, but I recently acquired a new cat. Not that I’m replacing Henry. I’m not. He’s irreplaceable, of course. But Frank has proved to be an interesting acquisition. I haven’t had a kitten in so long I forgot how much they play. Anyways, here’s a picture of Sunday afternoon at my house.  This is also proof that cats and dogs CAN get along! (For at least 20 minutes!) Looks like pet heaven, right?

So I haven’t updated because I’ve had the Swine Cold. It’s like the Swine Flu, but not. So I took my Swine Cold germs to San Fran to see my good friend Rachel and her better half. I had a lot of fun, but alas, my digital camera is out of business. ATTENTION SANTA.

Anyways, they took me to the coolest bar. It’s called the Carnelian Room. Sadly, it’s closing on New Years Day- but it had the best view. Enter, camera phone. Not as good as my digital camera, but whatever.

Pretty View

See Alcatraz? See? See???

See the Golden Gate Bridge?? Cool huh?

I love California. Love Love Love it. I also love their wine. And my friend Rachel!

So my friend sent me this.  Some people are gross.

A Pasadena woman angered when her former common-law husband took back jewelry he’d given her returned the gesture, police said, taking goldfish from his apartment —  then ate them.

The two had argued over jewelry he had given her but then took back, Pasadena Police Department spokesman Vance Mitchell said. When the man refused to return the jewelry, she took seven goldfish from his west Pasadena home in the 1100 block of Queens Road to her apartment, Mitchell said. The man called police.

Officers went to the woman’s home to see if they could retrieve the fish.

“She said, ‘They’re in there,’ and pointed to the kitchen,” Mitchell said.

Finding a plate with four fried fish, officers asked where the others were. The woman answered, “I already ate those,” Mitchell said.

Because the fish were bought when the couple lived together, they were considered community property, he said.

“There was nothing we could do,” Mitchell said. “If he wants to pursue it, it’s a civil case.”

So it’s been a week and a half since Henry died, and to be honest I’m still really sad about it. I feel like talking about it to people makes me feel better, in a sense, because I get to share the memory of him with other people. At the same time, I’m sure some of my friends/co-workers are starting to wonder when “the weirdo girl is going to stop talking about her dead cat.”

I still blame myself. Everyday. The what if’s could go on and on forever. What if I hadn’t gone to SMF’s house everyday the week before he died to watch the US Open? What if I had been home with Henry instead? Would I have known he was sick? What if I had taken him to the vet the very morning I knew something was wrong, instead of waiting until lunch? What if I had just paid X amount of money, let the vet turn him into a girl (basically), and kept him alive? What if I had let them re-cath him one last time, to see if it would work? The truth is I’ll never know. I’ll never know if what I did or didn’t do had any affect on the outcome. And I know that most of you reading this are probably thinking, “Really Nutcase? It’s a cat. Run on down to the animal shelter and get yourself another one.” BUT HE WASN’T JUST A CAT TO ME DAMMIT!

He was my family. My makeshift, screwed up family that inhabits my 700 square foot apartment. My family that sheds, and steps on my face at 3am, and caterwauls at 5am when they want to be fed. They have become such an integral part of my life that Henry’s passing has been much more of a ‘perspective tragedy’ than one that I just can’t understand. The value of the people (and pets) in my life have taken on a whole new value since Henry died- meaning, I’ve put things in perspective.

I recently read an article on the internet about pets dying and feeling guilty about what you could have/would have/should have done to keep it from happening. The man said “the foundation of our relationships with our pets are based on forgiveness. They forgive you for not coming home and feeding them on time, for shooing them away off your lap, for not spending enough time with them. You forgive them for chewing up things, scratching the furniture, and doing things they shouldn’t. Therefore, we shouldn’t FEEL guilty for our pet’s death- instead we should know that they have forgiven us because they always have.”

I think about him everyday. Several times a day. I still watch his video everyday. And I hope, HOPE, that he has forgiven me. Unfortunately, it’s going to take more time before I can forgive myself.