Are You There Peeps? It’s Me, Manda…

That’s why they call me Slim Shady, I’m back, I’m back…”

Okay, so nobody actually calls me Slim Shady. I know this and you know this. That being said, I am back, hopefully for good this time, and what is up peeps? For those of you still following me after months of being incommunicado, hello and thank you for your patience. Now I sound like an automated voice message “to continue reading, please press one now”…anyhoo, I don’t expect this post to be very long; I just wanted to let you know that I’m still here, trying to write again.

So where have I been, you may be asking? I would really love to tell you that I’ve been super busy working on myself and making positive changes, but that would be a lie. Mostly I’ve been binge-watching, binge-eating, binge-gaming, and binge-wallowing in my guilt that I’ve reverted back to doing nothing and feeling bad about it but not changing it. I did spend about a week trying to get my old laptop to work so that it would be easier for me to write, but after watching hours of YouTube videos about hard drives, reformatting, installing and uninstalling, and just basically trying to get an ancient piece of technology to function normally with said updates and reformats, I threw it under the couch and sulked for another couple of weeks because it just was not having any part of being resurrected. I even went out of my way to cover it in pretty stickers and it still wouldn’t do what I wanted it to do…ungrateful SOB.

So I’m back to poking away at my iPad screen, once again having forgotten to charge my Bluetooth keyboard…hey, at least I can be consistent about something right? Really though, I am struggling with what to say. I’m low, really low…and not in a fun Lil’ Jon type of way – too bad your booty doesn’t get a workout from gettin’ low on the couch; if that were the case I’d be giving the Kardashian’s a run for their money at this point…although size-wise I might be getting there anyway. Look out Kim, my badonkadonk is catching up! If only I could pay someone to airbrush it everyday, I could end up with a few more Instagram followers…anyone have a promo code for a butt lift? I wonder if you can use a contour kit on your ass…

Anyway, as I was saying before I went off on a completely predictable tangent, I’m not in a good place right now. I love my couch and everything, but it’s not really very good company. I’m starting to become that socially awkward person that nobody really knows what to do with…if I do have a conversation it’s usually with my cat, and she doesn’t give a fuck how weird I am so it’s not really a good barometer for socializing with real people. Even my writing is awkward…you really do lose it if you don’t use it, although I have noticed that it seems to be a great predictor for where I’m heading, mentally at least. In retrospect, my last two posts were all kinds of crazy, and I won’t lie to you – part of my absence was due to me “going away” for awhile. Literally. The men in white coats caught up with me again…maybe they were reading my blog…I’m rolling my eyes too, don’t feel bad.

So there it is peeps, my big return to blogging. Pretty blah, I know, but I did tell you that my writing seems to reflect my headspace, so for now that’s all I got. Stick with me, I’m hoping to come out of the gate swinging again at some point; I’ve been considering going back to plant-based eating in conjunction with testing out the baby food fad, waist training, and hot yoga, but that could all just be wishful thinking. Even just reading that I can see that it spells out a recipe for disaster – I sound like a space cadet on the road to an eating disorder…Heeeey Gwyneth, what up girl??…just kidding; I’m sure she’s a lovely lady, even though she’s crazy as balls. Maybe I should hit her up on Facebook or something…we can chat about our feelings on personal chefs, psychology, and Cup-a-Soup. Somehow I don’t think that would end well – sorry Gwyneth, maybe some other time; I do love me some Cup-a-Soup!

Anyway, hopefully I get motivated to do something soon, so that I can tell you all about it. Keep livin’ the dream peeps, whatever your dream may be ❤

Xo

M

Through the Insta-Glass, and What Manda Found There

What’s up docs? It’s been awhile, I know, I know…I could lie and tell you that I’ve been super busy and productive and just haven’t had time to pop out a quick post, but that would be untrue, and I’ll be damned if I’ll lie to you my people…unless it’s about where I was last Thursday at 2:37pm. I was not in the conservatory with the candlestick – or was I?? I’ll never tell.

For reals though, I haven’t really been that busy the last couple of weeks. I (mostly) kept my promise to clean up my Hoarding Room, binge-watched five and a half seasons of Scandal, did some laundry, played some Candy Crush, and managed to catch myself a seriously killer cold – it’s like Michael Myers in flu-form; that shit just will not die! I realize that while having a psychopathic-murderer-cold may be a perfectly good reason not to vlog, it doesn’t excuse my serious lack of blogging. So my apologies.

Actually, me feeling like death warmed over was my inspiration for this post. Here’s the 411: the hubs and I had a social function to attend on Saturday night. Social functions naturally being an instant cause for panic, being sick on top of it made me feel like I would rather stick needles filled with acid in my eyeballs than hit that shit. (Which, incidentally, I kinda did last Saturday which was the last day I felt passably healthy – fast food straws and moving vehicles don’t mix. You can find the pic on Instagram, if you’re so inclined.) This; however, was no ordinary social function that I could beg off at the last minute. It was a one year memorial Celebration of Life party for my hubby’s BFF. So kind of a big deal. Throw in a hundred or so people who I haven’t seen in all of that time and a possible hey-how-are-ya with the ex-wife (hubby’s not mine; that’s one thing I didn’t experiment with in college, pity) and you have yourself a serious case of Lorazepam withdrawal.

So what do I do? I decide that Friday night is the time to experiment with another thing I never tried in college – rag rolling. For those of you out there mouthing “WTF” at your screens right now, it’s not some oddly elaborate way to smoke weed. Not that I know of anyway. Try Google. The idea of rag rolling is basically just rolling your hair up in strips of fabric (I knew I kept all those mismatched pillowcases for a reason!) before you go to bed and waking up the next day with fabulously perfect curls. That’s in a perfect world. In my world, test driving a new hairstyle 18 hours before a big-deal soirée is a fine example of a fucking terrible idea. Let me just add here that I also decided to put in tape extensions, on Friday, which means I couldn’t wash my hair if it didn’t turn out. If you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, I repeat; Google.

I’m taking awhile here but I do have a destination I’m chugging towards; it’s 5am right now and I’m slightly delirious but just hear me out, ok? So it’s Saturday afternoon, an hour before I have to leave, and I unroll my fabulously perfect curls. They’re like six fat sausages; I’m channeling Shirley Temple like a Long Island medium. And then I make the fatal mistake. I brush them. Because at the end of the day, I don’t want to look like Shirley-freaking-Temple, I want to look like Mila-freaking-Kunis. What I end up looking like instead is Sideshow Bob. It was bad. It was horrible. It was EPIC. Right away, of course, I snap a pic of this catastrophe and send it to my Mom, because I know I can go to her for comfort and she won’t laugh at me. Shyeah, and monkeys might fly outta my butt. Several laughing-so-hard-I’m-crying emojis and a tentative “Can you try to wet it?” later, I’m feeling utterly DIY-defective but I have to roll with it. Long-story-not-short, my hair turned out fine (seriously peeps, Google!) and after a couple ‘pams and a beer or two (seven?) I mostly forgot that I started the night looking like I stuck my finger in an electric socket.

So where am I going with all of this? The next day, as I scrolled through my photos, I saw that my cringe-worthy “before” pic was followed by a fantabulous “after” pic, taken for perspective after I had tamed the beast and painted my face because the sun was shining on the bathroom mirror and I wasn’t sure if I had on too much blush. I didn’t. I looked picture perfect. I instantly opened Instagram to document this moment, when I hesitated. I try to be somewhat sparing with the selfies. No Kim-K up in here; plus, I don’t like setting standards I may have to live up to on a regular basis when it comes to my appearance. FALSE ADVERTISING, say it with me kids.

This is what I looked like for one night. The hideous “before” picture that my mother laughed at is what I look like all the time. And I feel like that’s a lot of the problem. Social media is a bitch. I mean, seriously…all we see are the picture perfect moments that everyone posts. Nobody posts the before. All we see is the after. Do you ever scroll through Instagram or Facebook and think “Where did I go wrong? Why is everybody else’s life so goddamn perfect??” Well peeps, I’m about to let you in on possibly the worst-kept secret since Brangelina: it’s actually probably not.

Flawlessly filtered selfies, yoga on tropical beaches, table settings and holiday decorations that would make Martha Stewart herself hurl politely into her designer handbag. DIY everything, no fails allowed. Perfect husbands, perfect children, perfect jobs, perfect pets for fucks sake! No wonder we’re all depressed – who can live up to that?? Or maybe a better question, who actually lives like that? Not this girl, I can tell you that much, but it never occurred to me to post the before; Christ on a camel-toe, who does that? Who wants everyone to see the real deal? The daily grind? Nobody’s posting when the shit hits the fan; when the angelic toddler you’re so accustomed to seeing on Instagram making “I Love Mommy” art is laughing with maniacal glee as they flush the wedding rings down the toilet, when the hair doesn’t turn out perfectly, when the boss says “So long, and thanks for all the fish” because a robot does it better, when asses go over teakettles on the beach doing yoga because sand, because-okay, now I’m just raving.

But why would we post that stuff? We’re given a perfect platform to showcase the very best our lives have to offer to everyone we’ve ever known – why would we not? What could possibly go wrong? How about trying to live up to to not only everyone else’s expectations, but the ridiculous expectations you yourself have now given everybody about your life? I can’t even really talk because, according to my very own social media pages, everything’s comin’ up Manda. And let’s face it, if all everyone posted about was the mundane, soul-crushing tedium of this hellride called “life”, we’d all get bored pretty damn quick. Eeyore might get invited on all the adventures, but nobody’s lurking his Facebook page, amirite?

Maybe that’s why we do it…to show that life is not a constant hellride. That our souls are alive and kicking. That we’re actually having FUN. Maybe I’m looking too much into it; some people probably do it to be uppity dicks but whatevs – if being dickish floats your boat then who am I to sink it with my righteous indignation?

A dick. I’m probably a dick if I do that.

All dicking aside, if you ever start beating yourself up or wondering if the grass is really greener on the other side of the Insta-glass, try to remind yourself that it almost definitely isn’t. Is your life truly what you portray on the World Wide Web? I know mine isn’t. So “like” that perfectly iced cake, knowing that there are probably at least 10 not-so-perfect cakes in the past that never made it to Instagram. “Love” that flawless family photo, knowing that there are probably hundreds of unposted photos buried forever in the cloud that are definitely not flawless. Comment “So cute!” on the meticulously trained puppy who probably pissed on the rug five minutes ago…am I venturing into dick territory again? I feel like I am. I blame Mercury, this retrograde nonsense is making me a tad snippy. Plus I’m hangry.

You get the drift. Saying the life that most of us portray on social media is freely adapted would be like saying that an acid-filled needle to the eyeball may cause some slight discomfort.

Here is my destination: Don’t let the ‘gram get you down peeps – it’s a rabbit hole with no bottom. Don’t fall in.

M

*Note* I’m glad I waited until I slept for an hour or two to review this. I feel like maybe I’m being overly venomous with my opinion; some people probably do have close-to-perfect lives. And that’s ok. I’m not going to not post this though. I know people who have actually suffered from depression and anxiety caused by looking too hard in the social media mirror. This post is for them. To those of you living up to your social media profiles – I salute you. To those of you beating yourself up for not “living the dream”, know that you are not alone.

The ever-quotable Dr. Suess himself once said:

Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is your than you.

And we all know better than to argue with doctors 😉

Be well peeps, xo

Who Am I, And What Am I Doing Here?

Sooooo, here you are. Reading my blog. What uuup?! And what do I have to say? Well, so far, I’m not entirely sure. I tend to get a little…crazy…when I try new things. I decided I was going to try my hand at making YouTube videos and, as it turns out, you need to have an online “presence” to make a real go of anything. So, not only did I create a YouTube channel, I also created a Twitter account, an Instagram account, a Google+ account, and this blog. I stopped short of making a Facebook account in a rare moment of clarity, because it’s only been ONE DAY and I’m already out of control. Where did I put the Ativan again…

So anyway, here you are. Waiting for me to say something poignant, perhaps even earth-shattering, because who goes to all that effort to make themselves known, without knowing what they want people to know? Me. I do. #thisgirlrighthere. I dive headlong into everything, without taking the time to think about it first. So now I’m tits deep in creating this, and I haven’t even posted a YouTube video because I’m a little bit chickenshit. Maybe a lot chickenshit. What if nobody follows me? What if I get haters? What if I run out of ideas?? Well, my dear, methinks the ship containing second thoughts has sailed at this point. So just go with it, okay?

I didn’t want you coming here and finding empty space. I also forgot to charge my Bluetooth keyboard, so this post is going to be short and sweet because typing on an iPad screen is a huge pain in the ass. So here goes:

Hi, I’m Manda Edwards. I’m a wife, a mom, a blogger (I can say that now, yay me!), and an almost online presence. I’m also depressed, anxious, and probably a bit OCD, and not doing anything about it. Oh, I take my meds and stuff, but I don’t exercise, or meditate, or go to therapy.

So what exactly do I do? Not a whole lot. I’ll just come out and say it – I’m lazy af. Bump-on-a-log lazy. The power of Couch compels me. That being said, I do want to some day get off my lazy ass and “get better”.

So why, you may be asking, would I put “get better” in pretentious air quotes like it’s something mythical or preposterous? Because I’m an ass like that, and I like air quotes. And because I think it really is a little bit mythical and preposterous. What does it even mean? Is anyone really completely normal and unbroken? Hardly. Show me a perfect person and I’ll show you a perfect fool with a cracked mirror. I think someone already said that…Aristotle? Rumi?? I’ll have to google it. I may also have delusions of grandeur. My point is, we’re all a little bit broken; Some more than others, sure, but at least we’re all in the same boat when it comes to cracks in the veneer. Maybe that’s what I’m really doing here – showing you my cracks, in hopes that you might relate. Did you just giggle when I said “cracks”? If you did, you are definitely in the right place. We are sympatico bud-dy! Maybe this is me doing something. I feel like I’m on the right track here, hopefully it’ll stick.

So that was jumbled, awkward, and slightly non-sensical. Me on a good day. I’m not going to lie to you, there might be a lot of that. I blame it on the lack of keyboard for now. Also that I used the majority of my brain power searching “how to use WordPress to blog” today. FYI I’m still not sure.

So you know who I am, and you sort of know what I’m doing here. About as much as I do anyway. So I’ll put the highlights in my bio, and if you like what you…saw? Read? Whatever…come on back again. Maybe I’ll surprise us.

Until next time,

Manda

Wow, that felt so blog-y. I just blogged! Look Ma, no keyboard! Stay cool peeps.