she’s alive.

Dear Anyone Who Still Reads My Blog,

Hello. I thought I’d let you know that I’m still alive. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I haven’t been around. But I think of my friends here often, and I miss this place. I think it filled a void in my life that needed filling.

It’s not that I’ve found a solid replacement for this. I haven’t. And I do need something more. But I haven’t found it. I want it to be writing but wanting it isn’t enough. I need to be able to do it, and I haven’t been able to for a very long time. I mean, I have written little bits here and there… ideas, notes, even little scenes that I’d love to make into full stories. But I just can’t make it happen.

I think it just wasn’t meant to be. And that whole ridiculous thing… ‘if you want something bad enough, you can make it happen’… is crap. I can’t make my creativity wake up. If I force it, everything I write is crap. There truly are things beyond our control.

So here I am, wondering why this place—where I once found a bit of a home—doesn’t feel the same. It’s not you, it’s me. Stop laughing! It’s true!

Anyway, I’m alive. I’m okay. And just in case I’m not around much [or, you know, at all], I hope you have lovely holidays.

p.s. — I always feel that this is obnoxious, but I never promote my shop… so… this is me doing that. I have lots of stuff available on RedBubble that would make lovely gifts. Tees, journals, notebooks, bags, stickers, and even more stuff. I also have a ton of different holiday cards for sale. Maybe you’d like to have a look. Much love… and thanks.


©2019 what sandra thinks

Posted in blogging, life, writing | Tagged , , , | 28 Comments

just for me.

I rarely do things ‘just for me‘. I don’t see the point. All I end up with is financial anxiety and tremendous guilt. And, you know, I simply don’t know how to be kind to myself. Someone recommended a book about just that. Maybe I should read it. Too bad it’s not at my local library because I refuse to purchase a self-help book since I think most of them are just… useless. If I don’t have the motivation or the will to act, how is a book going to help?

Yes, I’m that bad.


I picked some flowers
just for me
wrote and read for hours
just for me

bought a little treat
just for me
something rich and sweet
just for me

but those are all lies
just for me
since I can’t justify
‘just for me’


p.s.— My monster-in-law finally died two weeks ago. I realize that sounds totally cruel and unfeeling, but it’s just that she was never really nice to me. She was kind of terrible. And she had been deteriorating for a long time. Plus, I use humor in pretty much every situation. Even death. I guess it’s my coping mechanism. Or maybe I am just a bitch. 


©2019 what sandra thinks

Posted in life, poetry, writing | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

what am I doing?

It has [only] been fourteen days since my last post! Wow. I surprise even myself. So… what the hell have I been doing? I’ll tell you… even though you didn’t ask. I promise it will be super interesting. And then I will break that promise… because it won’t be.

Here’s what/where/who I’ve been…

Nemo. No, I’m just kidding. You know what I actually found? Waldo! I mean it. I found the real life Waldo. I was innocently driving along when, on the side of the road, I spotted a man wearing a red and white striped shirt. I think I scared the shit out of my daughter when I yelled, “I found Waldo!

Oh, how could I forget? I also found two stowaways on the back of a car in a random parking lot.

Rhode Island. I like to call it visiting my summer vacation home. That makes me feel better about my life choices.

Blueberry Crisp. Mom took us to the place Grandma used to take us to pick blueberries. We filled a bucket. Also… sad pickles.

Well, coffee, obviously. But when in Rhode Island… I’m having the best treat on earth.

My life is fucked up.‘ But that’s old news.

The Daily Show, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Late Night with Seth Meyers. My favorite late night crew. And Archer.

Not much. It’s fucking hot. Try to control your excitement as I am not posting pics of this one.

There’s a song… I just can’t stop. I don’t know if it’s considered ‘pop‘ (which goes against everything I believe in… blah… blah… I’ve said it a hundred times…). I guess it might be since it’s on pop radio. But then again, so are lots of artists not considered pop. Anyway, I don’t give a damn what it is or what anyone thinks. This song is amazing, and I love it. Add coolness points because the kid’s dad was Doctor Who.

I’m sharing the video… but this is the lyric video. If you want to see the official/original (starring famous dad Peter Capaldi), go for it, but prepare to weep.

I’m going under, and this time, I fear there’s no one to save me
This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy
I need somebody to heal, somebody to know
Somebody to have, somebody to hold
It’s easy to say, but it’s never the same
I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

Now the day bleeds into nightfall
And you’re not here to get me through it all
I let my guard down and then you pulled the rug
I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

[partial lyrics | Someone You Loved – Lewis Capaldi]

p.s.— Seriously, I have had that song on repeat for, like, two hours. I am not ashamed.

p.s. 2— I miss you. 


©2019 what sandra thinks

Posted in life, music, writing | Tagged , , , , | 35 Comments

I said good day.

I usually write when I feel like ass.

Wow, what a fabulous opening line from a girl who hasn’t posted for nearly a month.

Okay, back to feeling like ass. I guess I write when I feel that way because I’m looking for support. Yes, I freely admit that. That’s me. Needy as hell. I don’t have any friends… I only have you. [Not that you are not friends, but you know what I mean.] I am lonely.

The most social interaction I have is a monthly talk with my MH nurse practitioner. She doesn’t do talk therapy… it’s not like that. It’s just a check-in. But for me it’s more. She has the ability to point out what’s good when I only see what’s bad. And she tells me that the ‘advice‘ (I use the term *very* loosely) I get from some, usually unsolicited, is total crap. That helps me because I take to heart what people say to me, and I feel inadequate… I feel like a failure. Like, more than usual. But I shouldn’t because it’s not that simple. It never is.

No one is me. [Lucky you!] No one truly understands what I feel or what I am/am not capable of. So suggestions and advice make me feel worse because… see above. I fail.

Wow, a tangent. Imagine that. Ha. That probably makes up half of what I post. It’s a wonder I can ever write anything coherent. I’m all over the place.

Okay okay. Right. Good days… bad days… when I write… that’s what I was talking about.

I often wonder why I don’t write when I’m having a good day. Is it because I have so few of them that I try to accomplish other things when I do have one? Maybe. I bet part of it is my ridiculous fear that I will disappoint everyone when I follow a ‘good day‘ post with a ‘feel like ass‘ post.

[By the way, a ‘good day’ for me is one where it’s not bad. A ‘good day’ for me doesn’t mean something good happened. It just means nothing too bad happened. So I guess a ‘good day’ for me is probably a regular, neutral day to most people. But a regular day for me is a bad day… because that’s what I have most. Is it bad that on a ‘good day’, I barely recognize myself? ‘Who the fuck is this person??’ Yeah, I guess that’s bad.]

(That’s one of my pet words… it annoys me when I use it… but here we are.)

I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Every day I think about stopping by… but I never make it. I have no excuses… no explanations. I just don’t make it.

But I’m here now.



p.s.— Just so you know… right here, right now—this is me on a good day. 

p.s. 2— I’m not proofreading/editing this post… because I don’t feel like it. 


©2019 what sandra thinks


Posted in life, writing | Tagged , , | 35 Comments

remember me.

hide in hood.Not actually me.

Remember me. I was going to put a question mark, but I decided it’s not a question. It’s a command. I order you to remember me, dammit!

It’s been weeks. More than six of them. This has been my longest absence since I first appeared here on September 14, 2015. [I just looked up that date. I didn’t realize I started so long ago.] In the beginning, I had trouble coming up with post ideas. And now… well, here we are.

I created this blog to have an anonymous place to say whatever the fuck I wanted. Did you know that the day I started, I was particularly annoyed with my husband? That’s what drove me to finally do it. I wanted to bitch about him… to write what I was thinking… to get my thoughts out there—my thoughts that I sure as hell couldn’t share with my husband.

Despite my anonymity, I chickened out. I went with the other reason I always wanted to blog… because I love to write. And now… well, here we are.

I still love to write… I just can’t do it. Not to my liking, anyway. I have some (like, seven) well thought out (but incomplete) fiction ideas. I just can’t seem to… go.

But here I am. Maybe this time, I will be back sooner than six weeks from now.

Oh hell, I didn’t even tell you what has happened since I was last here. Don’t get your hopes up—there’s nothing huge.

I did have a birthday, though. Whoopee.


p.s.— All of this embarrassing stuff is still going on, though. But my lips are still sealed. 


©2019 what sandra thinks


Posted in life, writing | Tagged , , | 51 Comments

found him.

My soulmate. Found him.

Too bad he didn’t include his number.

[If you cannot see it, the text of the newspaper clipping pictured is as follows:
My name is Bubbles. I reside in a shed with 28 kitties. I refurbish grocery carts, which I steal from the local Wal-Mart. Just kidding. I’m Tom. I’m looking for a local female for coffee and maybe more.]


p.s.— I feel like I should add a p.s. to every post indefinitely. I like this idea.


©2019 what sandra thinks

Posted in humor, life, writing | Tagged , , , | 22 Comments

too close to the tree

I don’t know what you were expecting but this isn’t my A to Z recap post. Or my afterthoughts or whatever. I’ll write that later. Or I won’t. 

Please note: This is a long post. I always feel like I have to post a warning when that happens. So grab your coffee and sit back. I promise it will eventually be over.

I was super down on myself when I was younger. And when I was older. And still today.

I have tried to recall when it began, but I cannot. I have only a few specific memories of other people putting me down, but I remember it happening. What I remember clearly, though, was believing those put-downs. And I remember the fear—the constant fear—that someone would see something ‘bad‘ about me and say it out loud for everyone to hear.

I had to stop them. I could only think of one way, so I did that.

I became my own bully.

I thought if I beat everyone to the put-down—if I did it myself—I wouldn’t hear it from anyone else. Or at least it wouldn’t hurt as much because it was already out there. Better from myself than from anyone else, right? Wrong. As was inevitable, I began to assume pretty much everything about me was worthy of a put-down. And I assumed literally everyone thought these negative things about me. I was so sure. It became second nature for me to put myself down. And I still do it.

My self-confidence and my self-esteem suffered. I tore them down. And they never recovered. They are, in fact, still being torn down.

Now I fear this is happening to my daughter.

Actually, I know that at least some of it is happening to her.

Aside: The rest of this reads like a soap opera. I am aware of this, but I feel that the full story is helpful. Plus, if I’m able to write anything at all, I figured I might as well do it. 

My once confident girl (11 years old) has taken a hit. I recently wrote about her during the A to Z challenge. Confident, stands up for herself…

It started with a mean girl. Shocker.

They have attended the same school for six years (k – 5). In the beginning, they weren’t friends. Neutral. About a year ago, they suddenly became best friends. One day, boom… always together. During spring break last year, my daughter spent more time with this girl than she did with me.

Fast forward about six weeks. This girl ‘dumped‘ my kid. No warning, no reason, nothing. She latched on to another girl to replace my daughter. What kills me is that the mean girl and her replacement have stayed best pals ever since… so, like, a year. But the mean one ditched my daughter after six weeks for no apparent reason. [Granted, the mean girl and the replacement have had some fights but they always end up together again.]

During the past year, the mean one started talking shit about my kid to other girls. She wants to turn everyone against her. Everything always gets back to my daughter. She has friends who tell her things. Or she sees things on social media (the ruin of childhood). The truly fucked up thing is that after the mean stuff, this little shit apologizes to my daughter and wants to be friends again. Until the next time she goes off. Then another apology… then more mean shit… apology… mean shit. You get the idea.

Other kids… my daughter’s friends… know about all of this. They have been victims of it, too. All of them, I think. But not as bad as my daughter. It pains me, though, that they always go back to being friends with the bitch. Why the fuck don’t they care that it hurts my daughter? They know it does. Why don’t they stick up for her? If they bother giving any explanation at all, it’s that the bitch has a trampoline, she invites people over, her mom takes them to do fun stuff. So basically, they are using her.

I’m not sure how many of these girls genuinely like this bitch. Yet no matter what she does to my kid, the other girls still hang out with her. They sometimes try to hide it [so I think they do care that it hurts my kid… just not enough to stop], but my daughter always knows because the bitch is constantly posting pictures on social media of every damn thing she does and who’s with her.

Fast forward to two weeks ago. Mean girl had been being nice to my daughter. So much so that she invited her for a sleepover! My daughter went. [I wasn’t thrilled about it, but I have a problem saying no to my kids.] Everything was fine. But… a few days later, my girl admitted to me that while she was there, the little bitch said mean things to her face. Who the fuck invites someone over and then does that?? I told my daughter she should have told the kid’s mother then called me immediately to pick her up. But she was afraid that would make the whole situation worse.

Fast forward to now. The little bitch still makes fun of my daughter, calls her names, and just generally torments her. Behind her back and to her face. My daughter knows to act like it doesn’t bother her and to walk away, but that doesn’t work because bitchface follows her around.

It has gotten worse over the past week or two. My daughter comes home from school unusually sad. Sad enough that it worries me. In the morning, she tells me she doesn’t want to go to school. Sometimes, she says things like ‘I’m ugly‘ or ‘I’m fat‘ or ‘I have no friends‘ or ‘I hate my life‘. This morning, she said, ‘From now on, I’m only going to eat salad.‘ [She is not stick-thin but she is not all that big either. And none of that should matter anyway, for fuck’s sake.]

My mind immediately goes to every news story I’ve ever heard about a kid who has been bullied so much and is so desperately sad that they take their own life. I’m scared as hell.

I contacted the school last week. I did so to help my daughter, not necessarily to punish the bitch because, let’s face it, that little shit won’t change even if she’s disciplined. I called the school nurse. [With my son’s and my daughter’s years at this school, I’ve known her for nine years.] The nurse felt terrible for my daughter and connected me to the school’s counselor.

My daughter is now seeing the school counselor because of that little bitch. Don’t get me wrong—I think seeing the counselor is a great thing. It should be required for all kids! But it pisses me the fuck off that my kid was driven to it by that little bitch.

She’s not shy, my kid. Her friends know she’s seeing the counselor and they know why. Yet no one ditches the bitch. See above.

I hope the counselor can help my daughter learn how to deal with this in a way that preserves (or redevelops) her self-esteem. I’m scared as hell, though, that it’s already too late. My daughter has already slipped into the same trap I’m in… she’s down on herself.


p.s.— My girl’s best friend is having a birthday party in a few weeks at an indoor water park. She wants to go but she is worried about how she looks in a swimsuit. Fuck, she is only 11. And she’s also afraid to go. Guess why? Yeah. The bitch will be there. Again, why the fuck can’t my daughter’s friends stick up for her and stop including this bitch? My girl may not even end up going. That pisses me off. 

p.s. 2—Next year my daughter starts middle school. This is both good and bad. I know middle school is said to be the worst, but, more kids means more chances to make new friends who aren’t bitches. Her small elementary school (less than 40 kids per grade) makes it hard to separate from anyone. Oh, and more kids also means more chances that kids will not put up with that little bitch and she’ll finally get hers. I can dream, right?


©2019 what sandra thinks

Posted in life, writing | Tagged , , | 52 Comments

I was just thinking | z/zero #atozchallenge

I was just thinking | whatsandrathinks

No way in hell was I going to write about zebras. Zero was a far better choice for me… because, you see, I feel like a total zero.

I have zero motivation.

I have zero [offline] friends.

I have zero romance in my life.

I have zero cash in my wallet.

I have zero relief from my back pain.

I have zero will-power around left over Easter chocolate.

I have zero ability to write fiction or poetry.

I have zero confidence.

And I have zero hope that anything is going to change.


p.s.— I’m sorry I ended this challenge on such a downer. I’m overwhelmed by a terrible feeling inside me that I can’t tame. I think it’s slowly killing me. Kind of like having your heart carved out of your chest with a spoon.

©2019 what sandra thinks

Posted in challenge, life, random, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 38 Comments