Over the last few days I’ve gotten several likes and views and maybe one or two followers. Not that it makes me a famous blogger yet. But as it’s been a while since my last post, I thought I’d reintroduce myself.
Hi, my name is Crystal. Welcome to my website/blog. Where I share the most random collection or posts and stories you may ever come across.
Here I will talk about my mom, who passed four years ago. Family related things, though I’ll never name anyone. Other general life related topics. I often briefly discuss changing my life and going in new journeys.
I like to do a “series” called “You Don’t Need…” where I pretend I’m a self-improvement/advice blogger and talk about things that the would tells you you need but might not be accurate.
I also like to say I’m a writer of fiction. I’ve written and self published a few books, currently available on Amazon. The most popular of which is “Black Friday: A Zombie Story. It was written for my friends and coworkers at the time and one reviewer pointed out that that fact made it less good?
One thing I do a lot of here that I feel I should warn you about is I Lie.
I make promises I never keep. I have good intentions, but little follow through.
The only excuse I can give you right now is that I am exhausted about 97% of the time. I work a full time job, I am a mom of an under 10 Kid with ADHD. I’ve been suffering from excruciating foot pain. And as someone who works on their feet for a living, that’s not good. After spending 8+ hours a day on my feet, I come home and only wish to rest. I can’t usually get past short form videos on my phone to think about doing anything else.
I tell myself I’m gonna try harder, because I would love for this to be come a career. But I try to live in reality to an extent and I know that it’s unlikely.
So, if I have any new followers, welcome. You might see me once in a blue moon, but know it’s not because I don’t wanna be here. Ya girl is just tired. Lol
You ever have so many things you want to do but absolutely zero time or energy inwhich to do them?
Well that is my life. I think willpower has a lot to do with it too. Lately my life feels more or less like every day is the same and nothing ever changes. Because it be like that. It do.
Maybe that’s why it all seems to go so quickly and I have to stop and think, “is it already Friday?”
6:00am: wake up get and ready for work.
6:30am(ish):leave for work.
6:45am: get to work and sit in the parking lot contemplating staying in the truck for 8 hours.
7:06am(ish): clock in and work.
8:30-9:30am: take a 15 at some point. Get Gatorade and peanut M&Ms, 99% of the time.
?-11:50am(ish): do work things (including but not limited to complaining under my breath about the following:
The 9,000 daily tasks I’m expected to do along with the “here this needs done” extra things.
11:50-12:50am: have lunch. Look at funny pictures in my phone for an hour while thinking about how much I could be getting done with the #pretendfantasynovel and blogging and all kinds of stuff.
12:50pm(ish): more work
2:00pm(ish): last break. Whatever man. Talking to coworkers?
4:00-4:30pm(ish): go home. If it’s a week day I pick The Kid up.
Spend the rest of the evening after dinner either wasting my life on the Internet watching videos or looking at funny pictures, wallowing in self-pity, or wishing I could change myself or my life.
8:00pm: begin bedtime routine
Brush my teeth.
Get kid’s teeth brushed.
Go to The Kid’s room.
Melatonin gummy for The Kid (1mg The Kid is a lightweight).
Brush her hair.
Lotion her feet and hands (helps us both relax and she also has the softest feet of any human).
Give The Kid her allergy meds and tummy gummy.
Story time till she falls asleep (almost done with “Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets”).
Sit in The Kid’s bed next to her sleeping form looking at funny pictures or writing this blog post (I’m now editing in my own bed).
9:30-9:40pm(ish): go to my room, contemplate the possibilities of doing something productive. (Actually I’m editing a blog post.)
10:00pm: Realize I’ve spent too much time looking at stupid stuff on the internet, take my melatonin, take my medicine and try to get comfortable in my hard ass bed.
I’m currently completing the editing of this post at 10:28pm. MY melatonin is kicking my butt. Luckily I don’t take it on my days off.
Wake up a million times in the night.
Sometime around 5am my body says “that’s enough” but I ignore it and struggle to go back to sleep.
Do it all over again at 6:00am, usually with some kind of ache and/or pain.
I realize my posts are boring and inconsistent and not helpful to anyone, usuallyespecially me. But this is how Icope with life and what my brain is doing.I’dprefer my brain to nothing most days.
But you know what, I’m not on any kind of medication keeping me from going completely bonkers (though I wouldn’t deny something would help me). I’m also still employed and haven’t run away to live as a hermit in an abandoned building on some unused corner of a reach persons’s sprawling acreage.
That sounds absolutely amazing.
But alas I have responsibilities, The Kid, people who love me and need me, and I still have a fully/mostly functioning conscience. So I’ll continue to perform this never ending dance routine. Even if sometimes it feels more like a backwoods circus sideshow than Cirque Du Soleil.
Goodnight friends. Thanks for watching. What? Watching? What reality are you living in right now…
As many of my readers know, I have worked at an unnamed retail establishment for almost thirteen years. I do my very best to not mention the name of my place of employment the same as I do not name my spouse or offspring.
Honestly it wouldn’t be hard to figure out, but you will never catch me saying it on purpose. It’s a personal preference and I also feel like they wouldn’t appreciate it.
Especially considering I’m about to complain.
Because I have been trying to convince someone, for ages, to let me YEET A PUMPKIN (or watermelon) FROM THE ROOF.
Imagine the stress relief. Imagine the amusement. Imagine, if you will, the sheer joy that would come with the sound it would make hitting the pavement!
Of course, I would insist on an area where no passerby or pedestrians would be in the way. The back of the building is facing a rock wall. It is paved and people and things rarely go back there. I would lay down tarps or heavy duty plastic myself.
I would even roll up the waste and dispose of it with my own two hands!
HECK I would BUY THE AFOREMENTIONED FRUIT MYSELF.
I just need one or two (or seventeen) good YEET(s).
That’s all it would take to ease my stress, satisfy my curiosity, and
MAKE MY ENTIRE YEAR.
In fact, someday I’ll be old(er) and gray(er). And I would tell my grandchildren: “Retail Establishment let me Yeet a <insert large seasonal fruit here> off the roof. And it was…
And they’ll probably say…
But you know what? I’ve been having a rough couple of weeks, and just creating this post made me laugh and forget my problems. If only for a moment.
As I begin once again to travel the darkened path leading me into and through a probable mental breakdown, I can only hope that I traverse the path and come out the other side relatively intact.
I am always struggling. This is all due to a combination of emotional retardation exacerbated by keeping my problems locked away inside my own mind, constant exhaustion, and an insatiable need to be liked by everyone.
This go ‘round the never ending cycle, the triggers were many. Here’s a list of them in no particular order.
I paid all my bills out of one check and ended up struggling to have enough money to pay for the continuation of this websites features. But I guess my bills are paid so oh well?
Wondering why I’m even paying for the site when I get absolutely nothing back from it. I mean I enjoy doing it but at what cost (roughly $180 a year, actually)?
My truck decided to completely stall while idling IN THE PARENT PICKUP LINE. Two other parents got out of their vehicles and pushed me to the side. In reality I realize it was not out of the kindness of their hearts but because of the inconvenience of my dead truck in their way. Now there’s ANOTHER part I need to buy. Again. No money.
I made the mistake of looking at education related job opening info at the school my child goes to. And realized very quickly once again that I’ll never be a teacher because it’s been way to long. Also I’m dumb.
Two people from my work have been promoted to upper management. This in and of itself is not the problem. The problem is that both of them are-give or take-ten years younger than me. They’ve both worked for the company for less than half the amount of time I have. And through all fault of my own I am still low on the totem pole and I’m still making less that $15 an hour even though I’m getting a raise. Though they will never read this: congrats and good luck to both of them. They’ll make great upper managers, I wish them nothing but the best. We will all miss them at our location.
So why is the title “the future ofCrashdLanding”?
In a year, when the payment comes due, for all the thingamajigs related to keeping this site alive, I will very likely save my hard earned money and not renew it.
All I ever wanted with this site, my Facebook page, the group, Instagram BOB HOW MANY SOCIALS DO I HAVE was promoting myself and all the nonsense I do, so that I might make a profit off doing something I love.
I can’t be a teacher because I made the ill-fated decision to take time off, and get any job so my husband didn’t have to keep paying my student loan payment. I’d told myself six months. Six months turned into thirteen years. And I’m basically back where I started.
I loved being in a classroom. I loved teaching, what little I got to do. I am a different person now and I think I’d be better at it now than I would have thirteen years ago.
No one wants to buy the jewelry I make. No one wants my resin products. I did not lose interest in those things I lost hope. Why sit under crouched over a pair of pliers and beads, why break my back and breathe in resin fumes if it’s only going to gather dust on a shelf.
I’m exhausted all the time and I’d have an easier time getting lemon juice from an orange than I have getting fictional words on paper.
All these things are things I love (including this silly little blog in this silly little site). But I’m getting nothing out of it. There’s a lot of time and effort going into this.
So, I’m gonna try and write that pretend fantasy novel. It’ll be available to read, probably chapter by chapter, for a $10 a year subscription. Unless you’re one of the 12 or so people whose names I’ve written down who get free access.
I’m gonna try to write “The Silent Secret” which will also be available via the subscription.
If you’re reading this in March 2023 (and the world as we know it hasn’t ended in WW3) and that subscription is still active and things are posted regularly then I haven’t given up, found a warm cave, and hibernated away from my problems and the world’s chaos.
Right now though, at basically the end of February 2022, I’m super sleepy. So. G’nite.
If you made it this far, as always, thanks for reading.
Don’t get the wrong idea, absolutely ZERO PERCENT of this has anything at all to do with me ending my life.
I bought a truck. I’ve never purchased a vehicle before. My last vehicle, the ‘Balt whom I’ve mentioned numerous times, was a hand-me-down from my husband. He gave her to me when bought his car.
A week ago today, I saw a truck for sale at a local lot. It was nice, older but a decent price with good features. However, no one wanted to provide a loan for it because of the mileage.
So they “found” another truck for me.
You see, I’ve always wanted a truck. The Balt was nice but she was small and light and had an aversion to staying on the road and not on the surface of standing water when it had been raining. She also had a decent amount of miles.
I also grew up in pickups driven by my dad. It’s nostalgia for me. And the thought that I could haul literally anything I wanted when I wanted to.
So I bought a 2012 Dodge Ram Big Horn. I still have no idea the significance of the Big Horn part, and there’s still some features I haven’t figured out yet. But I love driving her (her name is Olive Oil) and her color is “sagebrush”. For once I’m driving a vehicle that if something happens I’m not the one who will get hurt it’ll be the other guy.
I would never cause an accident intentionally. I’m a cautious driver. Just thought that needed saying.
Anywho, the day after I bought her, the “check fuel cap” warning came on. So I checked it. Not loose. Still attached. Light still on.
Two days later the check engine light came on. The next day I took her to a local mechanic and he plugged her in. It said it was the fuel cap. He said more than likely it’s a fuel leak. If it’s a particular line, it would require dropping the tank. That alone is $100 labor.
I haven’t even made the first payment.
And I gave up the ‘Balt for $250. so if something bad happens to Olive, I’m in a pickle.
See what I did there. I have to joke it’s my coping mechanism.
I’m scared do death that I’ve made a horrible mistake, an impulse buy I will soon regret. She’s a big truck and she’s gonna be expensive to fix.
My husband had this fear, that it was going to be expensive. But shout out to him for letting me make my own decisions without influencing them.
I am willing to haul things for truck repair funds. And I know she has the power to, I dunno, pull a tree out with a chain?
In 2007 I graduated from college with a bachelors degree in Elementary Education. There has only ever been two things I dreamed of being: a teacher and a writer.
I haven’t successfully written fiction, and by successfully I mean finished or even gotten halfway through a piece, in a very long time. I’ve done some very short fiction, but the last “chapter based” writing I did was a Handy Manny story (not fan fiction, I just had a small child), and that’s a whole other blog post.
After I graduated college, I decided it was a good idea to take a break (famous last words) and get settled into adulthood. Then I got married. I didn’t want my new spouse to have to pay my fast approaching student loan payment. The grace period was about to end and I didn’t want him to have that burden.
I’ve now been in retail for twelve years (in five days). In that time I was a substitute teacher for a short time while working retail. I also did not have my drivers license, so getting me to and from Sub gigs and my mail source of employment were my spouse and in laws.
At one point I became so exhausted that I couldn’t physically do it anymore. I’d go eight hours without eating sometimes. Debilitating social anxiety and fear of failure can be considered the main reasons why I’m still in retail.
Oh and at one point in all this I put in my application for teaching positions. I got an interview at the school closest to me. I BOMBED. It had been so long since I’d graduated and been in a classroom that I had NO IDEA what they were asking me. I knew I didn’t get it before I left the building. My child now goes to that school.
I took that very hard at the time and told myself I was going to give up. But had I really tried? I hadn’t done a single thing to do with education since I graduated, and the substitute work didn’t come until a few years later. How did I expect an interview to go well? Duh goober.
It has now been more time between the substituting and now than has been between the interview and being a sub. And I still want so desperately to be a teacher that I dream about it.
I’ve had dreams about being in a classroom before. But Mia think recurring dreams where someone found out that I didn’t pass some elementary grade and they won’t let me be a teacher until I go through school over again. And NOT EVEN COLLEGE. I have to go through elementary or high school again! *facepalm*
I told myself in October of last year that I wouldn’t still be in retail a year later. I think I even wrote a blog post about it. And now there’s only 206 days left before that day in October. And I’m gonna be super bummed if I don’t get the heck out of dodge.
Don’t get me wrong. Things at my current employer have improved. I’m much happier and much less stressed but I’m still struggling some with not feeling good enough or part of the click. But once in a while I do feel like I’m making some difference.
Lately I don’t really remember much of my dreams. They really have to hit me a certain way for them to be remembered. But with this one, no recurring dream, nothing I’ve ever had before, it just hit me the right (or wrong) way. It reminded me that I want to teach badly, I want more. But am I good enough? Will I ever get there?
Thanks for reading
In the dream I was wearing a dress that looked like my face mask that has a dinosaur puking a rainbow and like said mask it kept slipping down so I had to keep covering my chest with my iPad.
I have a complicated relationship with religion. I always have. I’ve said this here before, I’m sure. My parents were never religious, although my mom had her “deep thought” moments. If we went to church as children it was an infrequent occurrence, and I don’t remember my parents being there. So religion was not something part of our upbringing, nor was it something outwardly encouraged.
I grew to question more than believe. There were a lot of things in my life that led me to this, mostly inconsequential to anyone but myself. I question more and more as I get older.
I also don’t hate, judge, or question others in their beliefs. In fact I’m a little bit jealous of their faithfulness and dedication. Unless you’re the faithful for appearance’s sake, but not in your heart.
But I can without a doubt admit that there have been a handful of times I have prayed to God or thrown a thought or hope into the universe and even (lard people don’t come for me) prayed to my mom.
Here in good old temperamental Kentucky (the earth lately tbh) it’s been raining cats and dogs and cows and ducks for days now, resulting in dangerous flash flooding and water in the roads.
I drive a little old (literally old) 2007 Chevy Cobalt. Me and that old girl have been through some schtuff, so I ain’t trying to throw hate. But she be light and if you’re not careful and you hit a centimeter of water in the road the wrong way she will fly off into outer space.
Tonight on the way home from work, the pouring rain reduced visibility to darn near nil, and there was a conservative estimate of an inch or so of water in the road a lot of the way (I might have caused a tidal wave to hit Japan in some places). Needless to say, I was SKURT. It didn’t help that my ARCH NEMISIS THE BIG SANDY RIVER was to my right for 75% of my drive (that’s another blog post).
The point I’m so wordily trying to make here is that I may or may not have verbally dictated a request for leniency in the matter of life or death unto an entity that may or may not be God and/or my mom.
The basis of said request entailed my desire to live for the love of my life: my daughter. Also included was a not-promise-but-an-acknowledgment of my own responsibility in keeping myself alive. I’ve made promises of “I’ll be a better person” or “I’ll pray more” or “I’ll dance naked under the pale moonlight” before and I’m no good at keeping promises. Or dancing. Or nudity. Gross.
But on that long, slow, mentally taxing drive home I kept telling myself and who/whatever was listening that I just wanted to see her face. I mean my husband is cool and all but he knows she’s number one. “Please let me see her face. I need to be alive for her” was my goal.
Now, I know normal people wouldn’t have been afraid for their lives, but I’m not normal, clearly. I also have anxieties and fears that are irrational and I accept them and we’ve bonded. Not really they just won’t leave me alone.
“As I’m writing this it’s still pouring rain AND THERE ARE WEIRD SOUNDS OUTSIDE so, anxiety, clearly here to stay.”
Me, suffering silently 2020-?
As I was saying, I have irrational fears, not excluding the fear of dying in some way related to my car. I said we’ve been through a lot and there’s still more to come.
So I drive home, slowly, and tightly gripping the steering wheel, wanting nothing more to make it home alive to my sweet child. I cannot help but “tell” myself and this mystery audience that I suppose only my heart knows is there, “if you help me make it home safely, I will try to keep my end of the bargain, and continue to live.”
That doesn’t mean I wanted to die, nay. I fear death, heavily. I just wasn’t trying really hard to not die.
I Did Live
Unless I’m writing this in limbo, I clearly made it home to my daughter, whose first words upon seeing me were, “did you bring me something.” I did baby. I did.
When I pulled into the driveway and put the Old ‘Balt (that’s a thing I call my car sometimes) in park. I took a deep breath as I waited for the rain to lighten up before I got out. It didn’t.
By now, hours later, the rain has indeed lightened up, I can barely hear it now, and my tiredness is getting to me. I’ve not stayed up this late in a very long time. But I need to get this all off my chest before I go to sleep. I need to document what happened today, so there’s a least some written record of it.
I WILL Live. Period
I won’t be afraid of my heart exploding, or a heart attack, because I will try in earnest to stop drinking caffeine, my only drug of choice. And I will be able to climb stairs without feeling like death (except for that fear or stairs-you guessed it, another post). I will lose weight, even if I don’t want the flappy skin side affect.
And I will be happier, because I will either find a better job or get back into teaching.
Oh and I will also try to document my “journey” right here. So, y’all get to deal with my bonkers self ALL. OVER. AGAIN. Maybe WEEKLY even!
Thanks for reading!
My kid asked me to tell her about her brain and heart before going to sleep tonight. And she said something about “the little thing in my brain and what it does.” Has she been chipped and is self-aware?
Someone the other day shared this image on Facebook. I commented with: “And sometimes very good people are covered in tattoos and go to church. Every body is different every person is different and every heart is different.”
Your appearance does not define you. Your religion does not define you. Someone who had been baptized or saved can still do bad things.
It is your words, and how you say them, your actions, and how you take them. And your heart and how you use it.
If it’s not already obvious, I am legitimately NOT a Christian. I’m not an unbeliever either. I’m a not sure what to believer 🤷♀️. I’ve struggled with what to believe for many years and especially so after my mother’s passing.
Good People Aren’t Just Christians.
My mom was a good person. One of the best people I’ve ever met. I’m not just being partial. She was kind to everyone she met, she loved when she didn’t receive love in return. She helped raise half a county. She raised her own four children to be loving dependable and responsible.
She was not a “Christian”. Though she was never saved and didn’t attend church, she still had her own beliefs. One of the big ones was “treat others the way you want to be treated.” Also: “be good to your mom” 😉.
At her funeral, the preacher, a man who’d known my mother since he was little, did nothing but preach that she would want you to go to church and be saved. He said nothing about her going to a better place. She was a good person. But she wouldn’t be going to heaven.
I have not given my soul to Jesus. But I like to think I’m a good person. And I know people who identify as Christian who aren’t good people.
But Christians Can Be Good People
While I know some Christians who are “bad” people, I do know some who are good people, kind people. I’m not being judgmental or characterizing all Christians as bad people. Being Christian doesn’t make you good or bad.
I’ve always thought that a person who had faith as strong and unshakable as I’ve seen some people have must be strong and determined. It is admirable, giving yourself so fully to something such as faith.
How to Be a Good Person
Do good things: volunteer, donate to charity, feed the needy or homeless.
Be kind: use a positive attitude with others, let people know when you appreciate them.
Avoid: violence, hate, judgement.
And, you know, don’t MURDER people 🤷♀️
Basically, treat others the way you’d want to be treated, do not judge others by their outward appearance, but by their character and heart. Let others know you care for or respect them. Do good things with yourself and for others. The list goes on. But a person doesn’t have to be a Christian (or believe in God) to be a good person.
You don’t have to be a Christian to be a good person. You just have to be a good person! But if having faith gives you wings, then fly, friend.
I have to work tomorrow (technically today since it’s one in the morning). That’s not news, I work every day of the week but Monday and Wednesday. But I don’t want too.
Tuesday, the last day I worked, was a big pile of stinking festering garbage. I was short handed and the people who were supposed to be the closing team called in and left us hanging. I had to ask two of my people to stay late—they graciously agreed and I’m forever in their debt—and I told my managers I would stay late.
I’m not gonna complain once my pay check rolls in and I have overtime on it—OT WHUD UP—practically buy me a new car with that.
Anyway, after six I had three people on the front end, three breaks to cover (including my own) and a million things to get done. Honestly it’s not that hard it’s just complicated and you have to not mess something up.
Messing with the money of a major corporation is a daunting task. That makes me sound more important that what I really am. But that’s what I do. Essentially.
But as always we made it work and we are a good team. A teeny tiny little team but a good one. Those are reliable people and my faith in them has grown even brighter than it was before that night.
Because two people called in (more in the place called in, but two in one area is like a tornado going through a trailer park: devastation). And honestly it was two people I was looking forward to working with. Two people I enjoyed working with and it made me feel like they were abandoning me, and not just our front end and store.
I know that’s not the case. At least I’m pretty sure because they did not communicate with me. I wish they had. One of if them called in I was disappointed. But then I learned they both called in…
Let’s just say the stress of the last several months, and basically year, have really weighed down on me and I might have gotten emotional. I hid it well, at least the angry crying part, and managed to put my sore and damaged feet down (gently) and say, mostly to myself “screw this figurative ‘schtuff’, I deserve more.”
Management had been scheduling me full time and boarder line full time hours for ages, and more so during the Pandemic (crapdangit more like), and I worked it all—except for my two week leave—without fail. I might not have been as good at it as others in certain people’s eyes, but I did it.
So I resolved to ask my manager, first personnel then store manger, for full time.
In the eleven years I’ve been working at (REDACTED) I’ve always been part-time. I’ve worked full time hours on many occasions. More so since getting my current position and let me tell you this has been a rocky road. I’d rather have the ice cream. But I’d been asked about it before and I said that I didn’t want more hours away from my child and family and on my feet.
But since I’m getting that any way and I have been there, doing the job as best as I could, I thought I deserved it. Not the hours, I already have those. I’m talking PERKS!
I had the conversation with my manager and I came out of it, with a “I can’t make any promises” but also with confidence that he actually felt I deserved for the possibility to be looked into.
I’m not getting my hopes up, even if I think I’ve been seen as a worthy person, by at least one other human. Whether no one else does.
But I will also be keeping my options open.
And I’ve learned a lot lately.
1. Open your mouth for what you want or risk never getting it. 2. Faith and hope in another human being is about as valuable as a water logged wooden nickel (IT TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG TO SPELL NICKEL RIGHT). 3. I can make anything work. No matter how putrid the flaming dumpster fire I’m given.
Over the last several months (off and on for years really) I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve been A: carrying a lot of extra weight—and I don’t just mean physical, and B: been hoping for something that just isn’t going to happen. So I’m making changes.
1. I’ve had more than one Facebook page, dedicated to different aspects of my creative outlets, and none of the got the attention I hoped, becoming a burden to maintain and a waste of time. So several weeks ago, I “unpublished” two of them, and am now focusing exclusively on Crash Landing. I’ve updated it’s look and theme, as well as my other social media. Check it out for some interesting goings-on.
2. I’m planning a monthly/weekly features, including “You Don’t Need” Monday’s (see what I did there?) and Spotlight Sunday’s where I’ll shine a light on other creators who just wanna share with the world, like me. Non-Fiction Friday will be where I discuss what’s happening in the world and how I’m feeling. #covid19anyone?
3. I have a YouTube channel, where I hope to share some interesting stuff, if I can get over my embarrassment. I mean, I have a GoPro, might as well use it. 🤷♀️
There’s more I’m sure I’m not remembering, but I’m trying to both simplify my life, and put myself out there for the world. I miss being creative, I love sharing that with others, and, I mean. I put all this work into some of this stuff. I might as well use it.
I hope everyone is staying safe, healthy, and trying to enjoy the #hermitlife. I am however in retail as a day job, so I can’t “self-quarantine”, no matter how badly I want too!