Archive for the ‘self discovery’ Category

So are the days of my existence.

I have gotten alot of  questions lately on whether my blogs are just stories, or if they are actually things that happened in my life.  I understand why you may think that they are made up.  I do.  But unfortunately for me, they are not.]

So go  grab any flavor of Sun Chips (of course, you’ll be hard pressed to find ranch around here because that is some nasty crap), turn on some smooth jazz (I feel my blogs read best when set to this type of music),  open your minds (and your hearts), and grab a seat in this virtual conference center because it’s time for a little Q&A with the Elephant.

  • Why do you call yourself the elephant? 

Well, I came up with a ton of clever and amazingly witty blog names.  Unfortunately, so did all of the other people who had already taken them. So then I just tried to think of something NO ONE would ever want or have.  Well I did.  But now, I don’t even want it because, seriously, what kind of a name is The Daily Elephant?  Plus, I get bored easily.  Which means, eventually, I will completely rename this when I convert to a real website.

  • When you were 18, did you really empty out your savings account and fly to Mexico with a girl that you knew for only 5 days?

charlie-chaplinThe way you word that it makes me sound so irresponsible.  And yes, I did.  And we lived in a dorm in the mountains, (in Veracruz) where I accidentally used the water to brush my teeth and got amoebic dysentery.  Thats what I get for heeding the advice of my dentist.  I spent my days trying to teach the locals how to say Walmart (which was endlessly amusing and futile since they can’t pronounce the letter “W”), and having random people with Virgin Mary statues on their dashboards take us to see various pyramids and Mayan ruins.  There was one picture in that entire dorm and it was of Charlie Chaplin.

  • Did you really drop out of college?  did Bill Gates drop out of college?
  • And massage therapy school?   does your mom make a mean casserole?
  • And every other program you’ve ever started?   does the sight of Neil Diamond send shivers down my spine?

  • Why do you hate Neil Diamond so much?

Please refer to 9 Reasons to Hate Neil Diamond (if you don’t already)

Kenny is the fake name for my best guy friend.  He’s the marshmallow in my hot chocolate.  

  • Did you really go to school in London and end up meeting a Britsh guy who moved to America for you and then turned out to be a multi-millionaire / heroin addict?

Seriously, what is this the Spanish Inquisition?  I’m sorry,  I don’t understand the question. 

beauty-pageant-queen1Wait, we haven’t talked about that yet.

  • But why would he do that when you can’t sing, dance,  play an instrument, have no hand-eye coordination or experience, and hate beauty pageants?

That’s a good observation.  And probably why I dumped him on top of the Eiffel Tower.

You seem to dump alot of guys.  Do you just happen upon inappropriate men, or do you suffer from a fear of committment?

You must be new here.

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The problem with me is I had a great childhood. 



This is a bittersweet  fact of my life, as now I have nothing to blame my issues on.  My mom wasn’t a career obsessed, impossible to please crazypants, who tried to force me into childhood beauty pageants and acting classes so that she could live out her dreams.  She was actually a stay at home mom, who had cookies and a plate of assorted cheeses waiting for me every day after school.




 42-18497083My dad wasn’t in the slammer after various robbery attempts, therefore prompting me to search for love in all the inappropriate places because I suffered from daddy abandonment issues.   Instead, he sat through the intolerable rehashing of my entire school day each night after dinner, when I would give him a plethora of “homework assignments” to be handed in the next night. 

But can I just say that it’s pretty sad when you can’t pass a spelling test given to you by your 7 year old daughter.

My brother, on the other hand, he was the thorn in my rose garden of a chidhood.  He never once in all my living days:  a) talked to me, or b) let me so much as walk in the same vicinity of his Nintendo.  Although deeply scarring, I don’t feel that I can justify blaming all of my insanity upon him.   Ugh. 

By the way, Who’s the elephant?


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I was just thinking about how I’m staring at this little  piece of whatever and that I am connected to everyone in the world and IT BLEW MY MIND.  And although I might not always ever want or care to know that you are currently “writing thank you notes” or “baking cookies with your sister-in-law”  – it’s nice to know that I am able to access that kind of information if need be. 

And all I have to say is, thank you, AlThank You. 



By the way, Who’s the elephant?


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My entrepreneural spirit and business savvy disposition began at an extremely young age.  Younger than most. 

I remember waking up at 5 am., walking over to my neighbor’s  house, and telling him that he needed to get his butt in gear and come help me make the cranberry juice.  (neither of our moms ever had lemonade, so we had to improvise)   I didn’t even realize at the time that I was not only providing a cool and inexpensive beverage on a scorching day, but also a lifetime of antioxidants and healthy bladders.  Don’t feel bad as you start to think back on your own childhood.  It’s not your fault.  I was just so much more advanced than you were.  I think it had something to do with my mom not sending me to kindergarten.


I could have just stopped with the cranberry juice, as that would have been enough for any seven year old to offer, but it wasn’t enough for me.  So we would walk out to my parents garden and gather the equivalent of a children’s farmer’s market worth of assorted foods for our customers.   And if that weren’t enough to set up on some sawhorses and an old board at the end of my parent’s driveway, I also busted out the entire candy shop that I had set up in my closet. 



It was always round about noon, when it would occur to me that a bunch of candy in glass canisters sitting directly in the sun was not such a good idea. 

And it was about three yrs later, when it would occur to me that my business venture would have been much more successful had I not lived on a

dead end street in the middle of the absolute nowhere.  

 By the way, Who’s the elephant?


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Unfortunately, pomegranites are also the new disfunctional relationship.  We sense there’s something worthwhile deep down inside, but there’s just to much crap to go through in order to get to it.

But we’ll still try.  God knows, until we are old, grey, and in a mental institution…we will still try.


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counselor-couch1I remember the first time I went to a shrink.  My boyfriend at the time insisted I go since I was making him go.  The difference between him and I was that he was a bipolar crazypants and I was an innocent bystander to his madness.  But being the five-star girlfriend I was,  I went anyway.  As long as he was paying for it. [because are you kidding me? I don’t just have piles of gold bricks at my disposal to pay for pity counselling to oblige my soon to be ex-boyfriend

[And I say soon-to-be because what am I?  A saint?]

After the first five minutes, the counselor [she was a female, so…counselorette?]  basically reiterated everything I had been stressing my parents out about for years.  She told me I was a perfectionist and people pleaser.  And then she asked me why I was like that

And then I told her that’s what I was supposedly paying her for.  my boyfriend was supposedly paying her for.

And then I left her.

And then my boyfriend suggested couples counselling.

And then I left him.


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Today, I conquered the world.   Or so it seemed.  Granted, my own imaginary world, where only I exist, but it was still something to behold.  It started with me actually prying myself from the computer which I have been diligently placed in front of for the better half of a month.  First, I returned the dvd’s which had been patiently awaiting next to my door since New Year’s Eve.

  Then, I mailed three books that I sold on Amazon two weeks ago, but agreed to ship within 2 business days.  After this, followed a triumphant moment in which I deposited my check from Chicken Soup for the Soul.  Triumphant only this isn't actually me.  but a good likeness on any given day.to me, I realize.  Then, as I was driving home, I attempted to read the book that was glaring up at me from my passenger seat. 

<—–not me, but a good likeness on any given day.

I think I’ve made it clear before that I don’t read books.  And that still holds true, except in the event I find a book that offers me some sort of meaningless and hilarious commentary.  Books which have fit into this category include: 

Couplehood by Paul RiserSein Language by Jerry Seinfeld, and He’s Just Not That Into You by [whatever guy helped write Sex and the City].  That’s about it.  Of all the stacks of amazing books that I own, these are the only ones I have actually cracked open.  Add to that list: I Was Told There’d Be Cake by Sloane Crosley.   With a title like that, you can imagine why I was willing to risk my life  [and the lives of several others] today in order to read the first paragraph.

Exciting things happening in the Elephant’s life these days.  New clients, a new business on the rise, and most excitingly I’m starting to take this whole book writing thing more seriously.  The problem is with creative people is that we have TOO many ideas.  Know what I mean?  The thought of choosing one, just one measley little topic to write a book on is the most daunting challenge I can imagine.  Which is exactly why I’m not doing it.  I’ve come to the conclusion that my book will be:  a) non-fiction of course;  b) non-serious of course;  c) either short stories or essays compiled with some cohesive theme.   Choosing that theme will probably take another couple years… yea. 


Okay, so I really didn’t get anywhere today.


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