Tag: self

Changes…

 

So you’ve probably noticed a few changes around here.

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So what’s up with “Conjure” replacing “Legos”?

I feel like life is a little more than kid related. Don’t get me wrong, being a mom is something I take pretty seriously. It’s what I do. It’s my job. But, I’ve gotten to a point where I feel that it defines all of what I am. At some point a while back I stopped being Angela completely. I’m tired of that. And if I want that to change, I have to change it with myself first. And to do that, I have to nurture the parts of myself I want to grow.

The esoteric and arcane been something that I have been filled with for a very, very long time. If you’d like to read more about this, check out my post  Angela, Ascending here. My journey into finding and practicing my craft is important to me. I’ve neglected the song playing in my soul for too long. I need to listen and find my way back to it again. I might as well chronicle it here. 

This doesn’t mean that everything is going to turn into being about spirituality. There’s still going to be the normal bullshit. Its still a personal/lifestyle blog, so you’ll get to keep on hearing about my everyday adventures. My journey through domestica is one that I feel is worth sharing. There’s some sort of crazy magic in everyday life. I think that we often overlook it because we’re inundated with the desire for something extravagant. We’re always pushed to want something better or something new. I think you can be simple and fabulous at the same time. I think that finding the perfectness in everyday chaos is an important battle. I’d like to share mine.

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Also, Legos is a copyrighted term. Me and my dumb self never gave that any thought before. Lego building blocks are everywhere in our house. All four of my kiddos love them. So being surrounded by them I figured they would make a catchy title. And it did! At least to me. I hope to like make this blog legit one day, so looking ahead, it might be wise to pull the name out. Id like to spare me any sort of legal discourse. The previous posts, under the legosandcoffee name, are still available.

I also jazzed up the look of the blog. Sometimes you have to try a new color of lipstick to feel better.  Hopefull, it makes the blog more appealing. My long term goal, like I stated above, it to move this from a side gig (lets not shit ourselves, “an often forgotten gig” would be more accurate) to a major thing. I follow some awesome bloggers around the internet. Women that have inspired and challenged me. I’d like to jump into the big kids pool and see if I can swim. (Spoiler alert: I can’t. Water is my foe.)

I hope you enjoy the changes. I really dig them. I think this will help me to be more active and, hopefully, interesting.

Stay tuned.

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You see, what had happened was…

I fucking suck.

Here’s the deal. I always have these ideas in my head of things I want to do. But there’s this thing inside of my head that prevents me from doing things I like to do. I start and notice how much enjoyment they bring me and I get totally on board with them and then, BOOM. The feelings start. Like old friends that forget you until they need something, they show up. Suddenly, the my inner monologue is being delivered by my mother’s voice and I realize that I’m not good at what I’m doing. I realize that I’m taking time away from my motherly and wifely duties by doing my things. So, I bury a seed in the shame I cultivate inside and stop doing my thing to watch it bloom. Who would have guessed that seed grows into a Venus fly trap and tries to eat me whole?

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It’s a constant struggle. Most times, I give in and accept that I am not good enough to warrant doing anything. Why bother when I’ll just fail? Do you know how many things I’ve missed out on because of this? So fucking many.

Guys, I’ve got more issues than something that has a lot of issues. I’m a mess. But still, I try. And right now, I’m plucking those teeth from my skin and getting ready to try again. I need to focus on the things that set my soul on fire.  I need to focus on me.

A blog where I talk about myself sounds like a a good idea.

So let’s do this, again.

 

 

Day 8&9 In Your Bag/Worst Habit

Well, it happened,loves. It only took 8 days for it to, but it did.

I missed posting. But it was because I had a friend over and we spent most of the evening eating cheesecake and watching stand up on Netflix. So, under cheesecake consuming rules, I’m in the clear. No wrongs can be committed while eating cheesecake. Hashtag that  as Truth, cause its fucking gold.

Anyway, here are the contents of my bag, which if I can boast for a moment, I made myself. IMG_9046

So we got a baby sweater, some diapers, my wallet, a compact of powder which is sadly no longer with us because the wearer of that pretty pink sweater threw it across a parking lot.There’s also my keys, a book I picked up at an Asian Market in a language I can’t read, and some trash I should really throw away. Also, the fabric I made my bag out of glows in the dark. So that’s pretty cool.

Ok, now that we are caught up, here’s today’s post. My worst habits. In no particular order they include

  • Over apologizing for slights real and imagined
  • Giving up on my interest and actions to make time for other people.
  • Asking if someone is okay. Over and over and over.
  • Picking at zits, scratches, any sort of flesh imperfection.
  • Scratching. Excessively. Hello stress rashes, let’s get raw!
  • Tailgating. Speeding. Pretty much driving in general. I am a horrible driver. Horrible.
  • Saying “Goddamnit”. The kids say it now because of me. I’m a great influence.
  • Caffeine consumption. Give me Monster or give me death. And by that I mean, it probably will give me death.
  • Listing all the horrible things that could,would,should, might happen over and over in my head.
  • Making fucking list.

There you go. A laundry list of my bad habits and yesterday post about my purse. It’s an odd combo, for sure. I hope not to miss anymore days. The photography challenge I’m doing on Facebook is almost over. I’m pretty sad about that. It’s been a lot of fun. Maybe I will do another one just for this blog? Who knows. I probably should just finish this shit first. That would be a good idea. Can we add taking on too much to the list of bad habits?

 

 

Day 6: Your 5 Senses Right Now

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Sight: The unholy mess that is my computer table. I’m a messy person. It’s how my brain works best. But this mess is overtaking me. Kid shoes, uncut patterns, grocery circulars…just a whole bunch of crazy. Tomorrow will be Tidy It Up Friday.

Hearing: WWE Smackdown is on TV right now, so I’m listening to that. Also, the box fan we have in the room to cool is pretty damn loud. As the weather has gotten warmer, that sound has become a normal part of the background.

Smell: My hands smell like the chips I ate just a bit ago. It’s been a while since I’ve had chips, so I went a little bonkers. They were Ruffles! They had Ridges!

Taste: I’m drinking some water to wash away the saltiness from the chips. How creepy of a question would this be ? “Hey gurl, what you tasting?” Um, vomit?

Touch: I am painfully aware of how hard my computer chair is. It’s a wooden dinner table chair because my original chair died a horrible death and we’ve yet to replace it. Also, the keys on my keyboard. Its a gaming keyboard that my husband passed on to me. The keys have such a nice texture to them. They make typing really easy. As an added bonus, my right wrist is hurting like an ass. I’m not sure what I did to injury it, but it had been aggravating me for weeks. Even with a brace it’s uncomfortable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Day 4: What are you afraid of?

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On the superficial side of things, I am really, really, REALLY afraid of ants. Here in the Southern U.S. we have big nasty fire ants. They seriously are like Satan’s public lice. They are everywhere and are just waiting to crawl on your feet, up your legs and bite the shit out of you.

Many moons ago, when I was a little girl, during an Easter family get together, my little dumb ass walked between two ant hills. And BOOM! Those motherfuckers starting attacking my chubby legs like an all you can eat buffet. My Great Uncle Ray snatched me up, ran me inside to the kitchen and threw me in the sink, pretty little dress ,panty hose and all. My legs were polka dotted with ant bites. It was horrible.

On a much deeper level, Im afraid of turning into my mother and pushing everyone in my life away. I don’t want the mental struggles I go through to hinder and hurt the people I love. I don’t want to be so deformed by my mental anguish, so poisoned and bitter, that I continue the cycle and infect my babies with it. I don’t want them growing up with the same shit I have in my head in theirs. They deserve better. I deserved better.

So, I know this isnt part of the prompt, I’m working on making myself better. I talked with L today about this very thing. And when I told him that I felt that he and the kids deserved better than a crazy, over emotional me he was quick to remind me that I too deserved it. And he’s right. We all deserve happiness and contentment. Especially with our selves. Our worries can not be the largest feeling we have. Love should be. Self love especially.

Also,

Fuck ants.

Day 3: Favorite Quote

This one is pretty hard. I really love quotes and have a few that have rented rooms inside my head. Some of them have no meaning in everyday life (“Zed’s dead,baby. Zed’s dead.”) and others feel like they were created just for me (“Believe me, nothing is trivial.”)

But this one, since I read it the first time, really struck a cord.

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Now, I’ve seen it attributed to both Mother Theresa and Konstantin Josef Jirecek. Regardless, it has so much meaning to me. Especially the last part. I never had a safety net. I never had a cheering section behind me. What Ive learned, Ive taught myself. And a lot of the time, I was wrong. But now, because of the shit Ive carried myself through, Im sure I can do anything.

Opps Bag- $2

The closest mall to our house has a cookie shop. I actually think it may be called “The Cookie Shop” but I could be making that up because it sounds good in my head.

We were at the mall on Tuesday for the Mister to get his eyes checked. (Yes, theres an optometrist in the mall). I was walking the babies around when they were getting antsy. There was only one thing that would calm the savage beasts. And it was cookies.

We roll up to the cookie counter in the food court and I order some little sugar cookies for their little kid hands and a lemonade for myself. I noticed a sign near the register while we were waiting “Oops Bag-$2”. So I read the small text and found out that Oops Bags were overcooked, broken, a day old or otherwise less than perfect cookies. I immediately thought this was a great idea and asked for one.

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It wasn’t just because it was cheap cookies. I mean, I love cookies and cheap ones are even better ya know. It’s because if people were cookies, I’d be an Oops Bag. I’ve been broken, I’m older, and I’m a far ways from perfect. There are pieces of me missing that will never return. There have been parts of me burned,blackened, and ruined. And even though my life has been filled with people who passed over me and chose another, I’m still good. I’m still worthy. To a zombie or cannibal, I’m still delicious.

Just because we’re not perfect doesn’t mean we aren’t good enough. Our flaws are parts of our story. Our flaws are part of who and what we are. We should honor those things in us that make us who we are. For good or bad, we are who we are. And we shouldn’t be ashamed.