Sunday, May 31, 2009

bitterness and melancholy

"What happened to getting some loyalty?" "What happened to family?" "Why doesn't anyone ever help me?" "What did I do to deserve the way people treat me?"

You'll have to excuse me for a bit, while I throw things, or possibly punch a few things, or maybe even bitch-slap a couple of people. The aforementioned statements are all things I've seen up as various status messages over the last few weeks. And as the days slowly plod by into weeks, and I get more and more irritated, watching, my bullshit tolerance keeps getting lower and lower. And to be perfectly frank, it wasn't very high to begin with.

Gods above, I am sick to death of people. Of walking around with my cheery fucking disposition, propping up other people and trying to make *them* feel better about their so-called difficulties. I can think of a grand total of two people who well and truly deserve sympathy and respect for the troubles they've been through recently, and who I have no bitterness for the words that I expressed, because they didn't do a damned thing at all to either cause or compound their own damned problems. It's delightful, and depressing, simultaneously. And it makes me *want* to help, even though I can't.

And it's funny, because right now? By the first of August, the odds are pretty damned high that my world is going to collapse around my ears, and there's not a whole lot I can do to stop it. And I'm scrambling in spite of it, to try and save myself, simply because that's what I do. Because I don't expect that some mysterious solution is going to fucking appear in front of me, and save me at the last minute, and it will work out for another little while. Because *my* life never seems to work like that. I don't have family members who conveniently have a thousand dollars laying around who can help me fix my car. They don't have money to give me to pay my rent because I was an idiot who loaned out funds to someone who couldn't be bothered to pay it back, and went on vacation instead. Yes, that's right. *I* was a moron, and I got screwed. My mistake, and I'm paying the price, in spades. I wasn't expecting to need to get the car worked on. I wasn't expecting to have a few other things go wrong, that cost more money than I was expecting to have to pay out, and as a result, I'm probably going to have trouble making the rent, in August. So now I'm scrambling. And I'm not entirely sure what I'll do. It'll end up being either the rent, or the car, because the car's not going to hold out for much longer, and I know it.

And yes, there are solutions, and yes, I will most likely find them. And I'm frustrated, and I'm angry, at myself, not at everybody else under the Moon, because it was my own stupidity that got me into this fix, and I know it. That doesn't make me less angry, it simply makes it what it is.

But what's making me disgusted most at the entire world these days, is listening, day in and day out, to everyone else making excuses, for everything and everybody, except themselves. If *I* can face up to the fact that I landed myself into a mess, and have to pull myself out of it, because money doesn't grow on trees, and on gods damned butterfly wings, and it doesn't fall from the sky, and jobs don't just sprout up conveniently and they aren't tailor-made just because you want them or need them to be, I want to know why it is, that other people can't do the same thing?

I spent the last 24 hours job-hunting. And while I have skills, actual decent skills at that, but am somewhat screwed out of most of my regular skills being off-set by the fact that answering the phone is questionable since my speech can give out at any time, and that's a serious impediment to any receptionist/clerical job on the planet, and I can't take a standard fast-food style job due to the whole 'standing' bit, that rules out a *lot* of jobs. And yet? I managed to find a half-dozen things that I can submit resumes *in my field*, once I work over a resume. They're not as high-paying as I might like. They're not fabulous. They're not the hours I would like. But they're jobs, they're available, they're hiring, and they'd provide a paycheck. And it'd get my foot in a door I might not otherwise manage. And it'd be *right now* if I could manage it, not in a few months, which is what I've got lined up right now, and isn't soon enough.

And yes, it'll screw me down the line, for the job I've got lined up. It'll screw up my school, among other things. But unless someone is going to miraculously drop money from the sky between now and August to bail me out, which I somehow doubt, I'll do what I have to do, because that's how real life works. At least, it is in my world.

It's not always sunshine and roses and poetry. Sometimes it's dirty, and it's miserable, and it's ugly. Because that's how it goes. It's doing what has to be done, to keep existing, until you can actually start living again.

The memory of the Titanic

Today, the last of the survivors of the ship Titanic has passed on. She was 97. Born Elizabeth Gladys Dean, she was barely 2 months old when she traveled with her parents on the maiden voyage of the great doomed ship. Her death comes on the 98th anniversary of the launching of the Titanic, May 31, 1911.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Handy tips on how to get the job done.

Here's a neat list of ideas for getting things done:

1. Turn off the computers. ALL OF THEM
2. Turn off the television.
3. Turn off the phone. This includes your cell phones.
4. Make a list of what needs to be done.
5. If it needs to be done, *do not assume someone else should have to do it*
6. Follow the list.
7. Do it until it's finished, not until you're bored or distracted.


See, here's the trouble with getting things done, and excuses. There is always going to be things that have to be done. And unless you live alone, the way I do, there will *always* be somebody else you can shift the blame to for why it didn't get cleaned up, put away, moved where you wanted it, etc. But the truth is, that the only thing you can control, is yourself. And if you want something done, if you *really* want something done? You have to do it yourself. You can't always be pointing a finger and saying that it should have been someone else's responsibility. If you see that it needed to be done, and no one else did, then ultimately, the person who was responsible for the mess, was you. Bottom line.

And constantly claiming that there's not enough time in the day to get everything done is a cop-out as well. The trouble is that most people won't turn off the electronics, and won't actually go and *do* the cleaning necessary to maintain things the way they want. Everybody wants a housekeeper, and no one wants to *be* the housekeeper.

Such is life.

Pity party ahead, skip it if you're so inclined

Sometimes, just sometimes, it doesn't seem to matter what you do or don't do with your life. Whether you follow all of the rules that are laid out before you. It never seems to matter if you are adhering to the plan that you were told you needed to live by, to make things go in the way you're expecting them to.

I'm not feeling very 'Zen' right now. I kind of want to know why it is that I just can't quite get a break, not with my life, not with my body, not with anything or so it feels. And yet...some truly horrible people get to keep getting what they want, over and over and over again. And it's petty, and it's mean, and I realize all of this, but just now, I'm not really feeling anything else but petty and mean.

Why can I not get a six month stretch of health, even *basic* fucking health, without something going wrong that lands me back in front of some kind of specialist, where others who can eat and fuck anything and anyone that they want, with no repercussions? Never pick up an STD, never gain a pound, get themselves knocked up or not, as suits their whims.

But not me. No, I get to spend minimum, once a month, getting enough blood pulled out of me to end up nearly passing out, so they can make sure I don't die, and even then, the odds aren't too great on the not-dying aspect. I look at a pop-tart, and gain five pounds. When I get pregnant, I tend to miscarry in grand fashion, because there's damage to my system from a missing ovary, and damage to my uterus. Fucking yay.

And so yes, I'm not feeling particularly upbeat and optimistic right now. I'm *tired* of cheering for everybody else, and listening to people's laments about their lives. Truth be told, my life is somewhat bouncing back on the one-to-ten scale of suck right now, on being about a two. It's almost laughable, that so many of you don't seem to realize just how bad it truly is for me. And no, I'm not going to post a nice, neat little list for you.

The glass half full, and glass half empty situation? The vast majority of people I know look at their lives as glass half empty, and I struggle, damn near daily, to look at mine as half full. Because I absolutely detest the idea of depression. And I do a really good job of it, at holding it all together, and pushing forward. But the constant placing of blame, on everybody else under the sun, besides yourselves? My *gods* people. REALLY?!

Sunday, May 24, 2009

shepherds of the broken - keeper of the secrets

I keep hearing this phrase inside of my head, sometimes even while I'm asleep "shepherd of the broken". And I know what it means, at least what it means to me. It more disturbs me that I'm hearing it even while I'm unconscious than anything else.

The shepherds of the broken are the people who take care of others. Who fight for those who can't fight for themselves. A lot of the time, these people don't originally choose to fight this battle. They look down in a hospital, and find themselves with the sudden responsibility of someone they love more than life itself, and realize that they've become one of those shepherds, and learn to fight for the broken ones.

Others are naturally that way, who gravitate toward the broken, and have fought for them their whole lives.

I fall somewhere in between. Perhaps 'shepherd of the broken' and 'keeper of the secrets' is somehow linked together in me. My desire to try and help take the hurt away in others, even if it hurts me, gets me into trouble sometimes. And knowing people's secrets can cause pain as well. And no one really knows any of my secrets, who ever truly asks, who I could trust with them in their entirety.

So each day goes by, guarding those who need to be cared for, tending those whose wounds need to be protected. And each night passes, hoping the nightmares will stay at bay long enough to sleep without dreams.

And so the cycle continues.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

what happens when you remove the audience participation

I am not always the perfect soul of discretion. Hey, I'm not perfect, and I am, unfortunately, all too human. I shove my foot in my mouth with the best of them. Who doesn't? What I do *not* do, however, is cause public scenes, without a damn good reason. I have to be absolutely furious to cause a public disturbance, and have some incredibly well-founded reasons, and just being a little pissy doesn't come anywhere near to qualifying under those guidelines. Neither does attempting to humiliate someone, simply because I figure I can. And, incidentally, I'm really, really good at making people feel stupid if they get into a pissing contest with me in a public forum.

But it's incredibly rude to do things like that, because for the most part, if you've got some sort of problem with somebody? You handle that shit discretely. You do *not* intentionally walk up to them, in a room full of people, raise your voice to top volume and all but shriek their entire name to make sure the entire room full of people are then focused on the two of you. Because if you do that to *me*, and I happen to be having a really bad day, you're liable to have one of two things happen. I'll either stand up, and point out that you're an uncouth and disrespectful piece of garbage who isn't worth the oxygen that you're breathing, and should have grown up when everyone got out of junior high, and should have been handling whatever petty little grievances you might have happened to be having privately. And I *do* have the vocabulary to support such a dress-down. Or I will simply haul off and punch you in your gods-damned face.

For a change, I happened to *not* be having such a bad day, that I employed a fairly new, third option. Which was having enough common courtesy and diplomacy at hand, all at once, to stand up *and walk outside* before I pointed out that this was a high-school petty bullshit display, and it was immature and idiotic. There was no point to the complete lack of discretion, and no, I wasn't "embarrassed" or "humiliated" or even fearful of such a thing from the fallout, it was simply a matter of respecting the coordinator of the event more than the person who didn't seem to realize that acting like a petty thirteen year old girl in a public place was inappropriate. *I* am thirty-one years old, and much too old to be playing teenage games.

No, I wasn't going to email back and forth defending myself to the likes of such drama. You shoot me a message that states clearly "I have no interest in being friends." My response to that is to remove you from the social networking site list, and to move on with my day. I don't have a need to defend myself from attacks. Conversation or understanding or communication, perhaps. But an attack? No, thank you. I'm not in junior high school, nor will I ever be again.

Which is why I didn't bother standing outside for more than the two minutes it took to snicker, and walk away. I'm also not going to stand and argue the point in person. I have no need to 'defend' an attack. Communicate about it, yes. But 'defend myself', no.

And as I sit and write this now, I'm laughing. Because I could all but see the smoke pouring out of her ears, when she threatened to continue her attack if I walked away from her, and back inside. And it wasn't until I pointed out that *that* would be unacceptable behavior to the coordinator, and against the rules, that she backed down, knowing *I* was the one who followed those rules by insisting it be taken outside in the first place. Her attempt to set me up inside, by causing a scene that *she* started, had irritated me, and the threat that she was going to continue it, angered me, but not enough for her to break and continue the shenanigans. And we both knew it.

The goal was to get me to capitulate, and give her her way, and get some sort of...apology, I guess, so that peace could reign with her in charge once more. Except that I don't function that way. I am a great many things, but a pushover is, unfortunately for a lot of people, not one of them.

Certainly, I like having friends. Who doesn't? But I don't like it enough to put up with the likes of someone who will blatantly lie to my face, and to others, and who wants to be the center of attention all the time.

As a slight side note, the most irritating fact of the whole mess is that what I was accused of doing to her? Was leaking a secret out, that's public knowledge in the first place. *sigh* And *everyone* knows it. Which makes it all the more irritating, as she stood there hopping up and down and swearing that it was this huge secret.

There are days that being the keeper of the secrets is really irritating. Because people like that so seriously deserve to have their own dirty little secrets spit at them, just to point out that if I *truly* wanted to fuck up their precious little worlds? I could, and it would be *SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING* stuff to drop as information into the public domain, than what I'm always getting accused of.

Gods above and below, if you're going to tell me I ruined your life, perhaps I should really start doing that. At least it would be more fun for me.

someone to watch over me

It's the middle of the night again, with the moon shining in the late night sky, while the nightmares chase me from sleep that once again is eluding me and the terrors that terrify me haunt me in a way my subconscious simply can't cope with.

And once more, I sit staring at the expanse of blank white walls, and huddle beneath a black fur blanket, and sit helpless as tears fall down, and wait for everything to pass. And wonder if this time will be the last time, and grow tired of all of it, and tired of fighting with the incessant pain and anger and fighting at an invisible monster that has seemingly no way of being conquered.

And in these late hours, where everything hurts so badly, and all I want is everything to stop, it would be so easy to give up the fight, and just let it all go, and that frightens me more than anything ever has, or ever could.

For everything I've done, and achieved, accomplished and succeeded at. With everything I've become and finally am at the point of standing steadily at...late at night, when I sit here, and am wrapped in a blanket, with pain wracking me, and nothing making sense, all I see, is that when I look around at everyone else, and then look at myself, and my life, and what's left:

There's no one to watch over me. Whether they lie to each other, are unhappy with one another, fight, make up, scream, hate, or love each other...at the end of the day, everyone else has someone to watch over each other...except me.

I have friends, go to school, a job, all the things that make up a normal life, but at the end of the day, when it's time to wind down, and talk about the day, and commiserate with someone who cares, and someone to count on in an emergency. If I'm sick, or unhappy, or need someone...I don't have that. There's no one who loves me, or cares, or wants to be with me, where I am, who wants to be a part of my life, and wants me to be a part of theirs.

And I'm not trying to imply that I have a miserable life, because that is not actually the case. My life is actually very good. But in the middle of the night, when I look around, and I'm alone, and I'm tired, and the nightmares are overwhelming me...and all I really want is someone to hold me, and chase the monsters away? The most lonely feeling in the world is knowing that no one loved me enough to want to watch over me, and wanted to slay the demons that haunted me in my dreams.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

on being tactful or diplomatic as the keeper of the secrets

I have no less than six blogs that are more than half written, with links full of recommendations, of advice, among other things, that have never been posted. Six pieces of work, that have never been viewed by anyone but myself, that have been re-read, and revised multiple times, and still left sitting, unposted.

To a certain part as it stands for being the better part of valor, a lesson in tact and diplomacy. Nothing to gain by posting words that would decimate and cause pain, however it might help me to let out the anger or anguish I might be feeling at any given point.

And, as always, I remain the keeper of the secrets. Of everyone's secrets, really. And oh, the constant manipulations, and the lies both small and huge that are told to each other in the name of peace and love and harmony. And it both puzzles and baffles me, to watch the bizarre world that everyone lives in, and this three-ring-circus that's life, and relationships. Everybody loves each other *so much* that they lie, day to day, so they can, what? Keep each other? Is that it? And to be perfectly honest here, as far as I can see, from my quiet corner over here, everybody's quietly miserable, and can't communicate for shit. Not that anybody can be bothered to tell anybody else that. No, everybody is most decidedly farting fucking rosebushes, as far as they tell each other.

No, only the keeper of the secrets knows the truth. No one would actually want to tell the person they should be telling, because then, the house of cards would crumble, and they might have to face that cold, hard reality, and deal with it. And no one likes to do that. That's always my job. People know that. I am the one who deals in reality, whether I want to or not.

I am the one who makes the lousy decisions, and faces the facts when both options suck, and deals with them. I'm the one who tells people what they don't want to hear, and gets kicked to the curb, and dropped as a friend, until it's convenient to be lifted up again. And I know it, and accept it, because that's my job, right? I'm the one who keeps the secrets, the quiet, dirty little secrets.

When it's my own life, and both decisions are lousy, I handle them, and everyone simply expects it of me. Because I always land on my feet. It's just...what I do. No one expects anything less. I find a way, because that's just what a survivor does. What those who deal in reality do.

I plan ahead, I'm *always* looking at the worst-case scenario, and planning for contingencies. The eternal pessimist. But those things that enabled me to make it on my own, when faced with no one to hold me up, and keep a roof over my head, keep things intact, without anyone else supporting me, when there was nobody else but me to count on, are the same things that everyone else expects of me when their lives fall apart.

Those things, are why they continue to call me, and tell me their secrets. All of the problems, and trials and troubles, that they should, by rights, be telling the people they supposedly love the most, but are instead telling me, because I have practical, reasonable advice, if not solutions. And because they've been telling lies, and hiding things from those people who they should have been telling the truth all along to.

Because in all honesty, they're living a life made out of pipe dreams and pretzels, and lives like that aren't stable. The foundation that should have been made out of communication and trust and honesty, has instead been built on manipulation, and deceit and hope and desire. And that isn't the way it's supposed to work.

So, without further ado, here's a couple of links that are food for thought.

This is brought to you by the brilliant mind of Mira Kirshenbaum, who gives us "Too Good to Leave, Too Bad to Stay", information on how to make a decision a little differently on staying in what appears to be a perfectly good long term relationship.

This is brought to you by the relationship gym, who will give you a decent list of how to categorize whether or not you're involved with a partner as a lover, a partner as a best friend, or a business partner. Because unless it's the right fit? That's going to be awkward, and you'll end up as part of the 52% divorce statistic, and that's going to suck.

Just sayin'. And I'm sorry that my blog tonight is so snarky, but it has been a *really* shitty day, on top of a really shitty week, which honestly? Is kind of the fucking cake-topper on a really lousy what feels like life, at the moment, and so I'm just not feeling particularly patient, or sympathetic a whole lot.

I actually have a whole other rant that I kind of want to write out, based from reading someone else's blog, that made me stop, take a very long, hard look around at myself, and my 'friends', and the fact that I'm not thrilled with the fact that I can't actually vouch for very many of them, while pretty much *all* of them, can safely vouch for me. There's nowhere any of them can take me to, and nothing I would do to embarrass them, nothing questionable about me, or my life now, that would cause concern. I cannot say that, about most of my 'friends', and that disturbed me. Realizing that there are that many people I know, who I wouldn't necessarily trust what might come out of their mouths, to do harm to me, or humiliate me just to amuse themselves, or some variation on that theme, didn't make me at all happy.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Fatophobia

I wrote this a long time ago and posted it on www.angelfire.com/oh/jessamyn, calling it "Fatophobia". Now I'm reposting it here:

Fatophobia...probably never heard the word before...

Well, this is what fatophobia is:

A fear of overweight people
An ignorance of the varied causes of overweight
A way of thinking that is prejudicial against overweight people
An overemphasis on physical attraction while denying the humanity of someone who is not what is considered "normal".
A degrading of an overweight person in respect to their intelligence, sexuality, ability, insight, spirituality and all other aspects of being a human being.

I live in a society that is stupid enough to think what you look like is who you are. It is stupid enough to think the amount of fat you have in and on your body has some all powerful ability to take away a person's humanity. I live in a society that has as an ideal for appearance based on obsessive exercise, shallow ideals, and starving yourself. I live in a society that has decided that being fat is actually worse than being a manipulator, worse than being a violent abuser, worse than being an emotional rapist, worse than being unfaithful to someone who cares for you. I live in a society that is so shallow that they think sex is dependent just on the size of a stomach, the form of a breast, the looks of the person, but all the time never realizing that sex is always better when a vibrant, caring love exists between the two people.

I live in a society where many people will work on and on for all sorts of rights for different groups, all of which I support, but will look at a fat person and then deny them the same dignity and rights they demand for themselves and others. In other words, they bloody are hypocrites of the highest order. They are shallow, they are bigots, they are sexist and they are stupid.

A lesbian friend and I were talking to each other of how we are perceived by the society around us, and there came a point where we arrived at a conclusion that shocked us. Many claim rights for gays and lesbians based on the assumption they were born gay and lesbian, it is part of them, integral to who they are. Well and good. But the facts are these. There is, to a ratio of at least 50:1, so much more information based on scientific research that proves that a fat person is BORN with a set of neurological, biological, genetic and chemical reasons that determine that they will be overweight, when compared to the research done on the nature of sexuality in reference to gays and lesbians and even straight people. We know more about the nature of being overweight than we know of sexuality, yet we continue to justify our ignorance. To think anything else is going against literally millions of pages of scientific research. Are there people protesting the treatment of fat people? Are there movements by non-fat people who talk about fat rights? Yes, there are. But they're few and far between. Unlike the organizations of any other 'rights' groups, ours is virtually ignored. I live in a society that is full of hypocrites, shallow, ignorant hypocrites. And before somebody writes me and calls me a homophobe, I did in no way question gays and lesbians, I questioned the hypocrisy of those who speak loudly for them, while all the while being sexist, shallow fatophobes.

The TV blares several times an hour about how horrible a person is if they are fat. The media talks about how beautiful those who are skinny are, those who have no FAT that shows, how it is much better to look good than to be good. How much better in sex skinny people are. This one has always mystified me. How would anybody know?? Who is having sex with fat people enough to make any conclusive statements? It is just another example of bigotry at work, lies told by those who do not have the depth of character, insight and love within themselves to just accept another person on any level other than the most shallow. Also, taking it another step, how about making love rather than just having sex? How about stop objectifying others, taking away their humanity just because you want to have physical pleasure. And people think that fat people have a problem. Most of us are light years beyond this.

I actually pity some skinny people. How they need to believe in lies and myths, prejudices and fantasies to have any sense of worth. I have a good view of myself based on how I communicate, how I think, how I love, how I express my arts, how my spirit feels and percieves....not on my weight or my looks. The dysfunctional need to think that because you are skinny you are superior makes me laugh and cry, it is so tragically ludicrous.

Men and women, straight and gay, in this society, will live with, have sex with, have children with, be abused by any number of monsters and smaller dysfunctionals. They will put up with liars, cheaters, adulterers, molesters, violent abusers, emotional rapists, sexual rapists...the list goes on and on...yet, they are put off by somebody who is fat?? And you wonder why your life doesn't work and you are unhappy??

Friday, May 8, 2009

I am apparently deliciously diabolically evil. But only when pushed into a corner. But I like corners. What a conundrum.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Wow, that's sort of uplifting and depressing, simultaneously



Well, given that I'm not actually expecting to survive to reach the age of 79, I suppose that I should be pleased with this result. And I am, somewhat. But most of what I am is surprised. I feel sometimes that I'm living on borrowed time, and so sometimes I do unexpected things, or outlandish things, and act a little wild, simply because I want to live as much as I can in the time that I have.

It would be nice, to live to 79. To have a full, long life...

*circles*

So I have an interview scheduled for Monday at 9, to finish up the things I've got lined up about this job thing. And my finals are all taking place over the next two weeks, which is all just a nice little bow-wrapped kind of circular thing.

I rather like when things go this way, in a nice coordinated fashion. I've been working towards this, and it's nice to see it pay off. If I can get it lined up correctly, I might actually have my summer go the way I'd like it to, and end up enjoying things even more than I'd originally planned, and I had intended to enjoy it thoroughly indeed.

As an aside having nothing to do with work or school:

Wolverine was really good, as I enjoy the X-men to begin with, and will be adding that to my collection. Am looking forward to what I expect to be Gambit as the follow-up sequel.

Am looking forward to going and seeing the new Star Trek film next week, and so that's on tap for fun times :P

There's a Pyrate Faire rolling into town shortly, and am considering going out to that, as it sounds like it'd be a good time.

Brody kicked down with the new pattern for some stuff I want to start sewing, so that'll be a project for a while, to start working with the fabric I have, and will keep me enmeshed for a bit, though I'm going to need her to help with the actual mock-ups for some of it, to help fit it on as custom work doesn't work nearly as well when alone. I thought I might make a couple of skirts while I'm at it, and am even debating making the entire outfit, completely with the lounge pants, so we'll see.

I've been absolutely tearing through books, thanks to the ever-so-helpful recommendations from D, who definitely has some good taste in literature, I'll give him that. Going to need more suggestions soon though, as I'm fast reaching the end of my stockpile, and that just won't do. *rubs hands together* But he has rooms full of such delights, which is always good.

And...I think I might need to purchase a hat.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Approaching Darkness

Visit

www.approachingdarkness.com and check out a newly signed hot new band with Dirtbag Records :) They were signed a couple of weeks ago, and have been making a good name for themselves in California, and will be making a much bigger name for themselves now. Friends of mine, you should go and see what they're all about. They have music available on MySpace, and their website!

Saturday, May 2, 2009

*wisdom*

When someone asks for support for something that matters the most to them, and their "friends" don't show up, that's the moment that high school friendships end, and you watch everyone move into their adult lives. And sometimes that can hurt a lot if you don't see it coming.