#SoCS – Awkwardly

Today I am creating a sign on my blog that says “if you were sent here by Linda, go back to her blog. She is much nicer and look! A community blog challenge! Join the fun!”
I wouldn’t ask her to run your online bar though. It might go out of business… -OM
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Verily, I say I really get myself into some messes. Like, I don’t think about what my own Saturday posts are going to look like. If you’re looking at this post and thinking, “Why the hell would I hire an editor who starts a sentence with an adverb … especially one like ‘verily,'” know that the prompt made me do it!

Yes, it’s my prompt.

I blame it on lack of coffee.

So, would you look at that! It’s Saturday already! The plan at this point is to take Alex to a movie today–either “The Kid Who Would Be King” or “A Dog’s Way Home.” I’m waiting for Alex to decide. I don’t particularly want to see either of them, but you do these sorts of things for your kids. Especially when they let you sleep in ’til 9:30. Aside from when they woke you up just to tell you…

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Hurt

I’m like you. I’m passive aggressive until I’m not… -OM
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The Lupie Momma

When I’m hurt heartbroken, hell really hath no fury like a woman scorned.

I’m passive aggressive like it’s an Olympic sport.

I have so many saved heartbreak quotes that I can toss one out at a moment’s notice.

I will share every single sad song lyric like a DJ spinning tracks at a club.

I plot revenge like an author plots their story.

I lash out.

I argue.

I’m petty to Nth degree.

I talk a lot of smack for someone who is crying behind every post.

I give an illusion of no fucks given as I wipe tears away from my eyes, and wondering what I did wrong.

I silently pine for you to apologize and ask to make up while I’m silently cussing you out as I scroll through your page.

I hope you wonder who I’m going out with, when I share a snap of me…

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Mystery Blogger Award #3

I am definitely with you on the papaya salad. Can your mom make some for us all? Hahaha, funny thing about tags… someone always sees them! -OM
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Hunida's Blog

Do bloggers even do these tags anymore? Or is it just me? 😛 I haven’t been nominated for one in awhile but, I’ll keep pushing them out until I don’t have any unanswered ones left.

Back in September, Steffani at Native Rose, nominated me for my third Mystery Blogger Award. All my thanks goes out to her! ❤

And now, a word from the creator:

The Mystery Blogger Award is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging; and they do it with so much love and passion.

Okoto Enigma


I will be skipping all the rules and only answering Steffani’s questions this time.

  • What’s one of your favorite memories?

Wow…

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Center Stage: 10/19/18

Thanks for sharing my post in the mix! -OM
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Riddle from the Middle

#BlackInWhiteChurch Explicated: ThreePointOh Blog

“I’d have to say the most anxiety-laden moment in a Black person’s experience at a predominantly White church is when the person in the pulpit says, “Turn and greet your neighbor and tell them you’re glad they’re here.”

Black person: Will they say hi? Will they look me in the eye? Will they shake my hand? Will they smile at me? Do they see me? Are they hoping I’ll not turn around? Do they know how petrified I am right now? Am I welcome here? Am I safe?”


Depression Settles at the Bottom: Harsh Reality

“I don’t view depression as waves, at least not for me. My depression feels like white flakes in a snow globe and are activated when something shakes me to my core. I become the center and the space around me becomes my world, a world I cannot see. While blinded I…

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Depression Settles at the Bottom

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I don’t view depression as waves, at least not for me. My depression feels like white flakes in a snow globe and are activated when something shakes me to my core. I become the center and the space around me becomes my world, a world I cannot see. While blinded I feel my swinging mood aiming for me like a gauntlet and I am the fool that has entered into it blind. No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot escape.

It has been 17 years since I found out about my birth mom and my sister. It has been 12 years since I tried to kill myself the first time. It has been 9 years  since I found happiness again. Through those transitions I have relearned my depression. Through those years I have grown to accept it and myself.

People always want to fix things. Fix your smile so it looks just right, fix your attitude so it fits your new smile, and while we are at it let’s fix your past so you can finally move on. Depression? Take these meds, a few more pills. Lay back down on this couch… aren’t you comfortable yet? Tell me about your problems so I can tell you why they aren’t really issues. Let me know all your concerns so I can explain how you created them. Men and women in white coats scribbling your life away in a second. Trying to find the answers when we don’t even know the question.

Depression settles at the bottom. It never goes away. It never “finally leaves.” When happiness slams the door who is the first to notice and peep their head from waiting closet? Who knows just the right words to whisper in your ear so that you question the answers you once had?

Feelings come like a shaking sun and all you can do is stand there in your crystal prison and wait.

Waiting for depression to settle once more.

-Opinionated Man

Jason C. Cushman

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