Aww TikTok.. you don't stop...

 

Gorgeous Akoya Pearls courtesy of Pearllabx77

*Bonus Points if you get the Blog Title reference which has NOTHING to do with the subject of today's post*

TikTok, what a deadly "rabbit hole" to get lost in... That has been my whole weekend thus far.

I have enough chores to get done to last at least 1 year, but apparently my psyche craved something else. Something that resulted in something shiny in various shades white, pink, and purple.

I guess I could blame the ADHD on this choice to spend the last 2 days completely engrossed in all things Pearl Farming & Pearl Harvesting.

Chart Courtesy of TikTok Account: Pearlism_03

In the 48 hour Pearl opening binge, I learned a lot about cultured & salt water pearls. 

I was incredibly impressed with Pearlism_03's knowledge of pearls from start to finish, and the ability to rattle off random facts in response to viewers questions as they are opening up orders placed online by some of the same people in the comments section.

I had no idea that there were so many species of mollusks, how the pearls are formed (implanted "seeds"), that the color is relatively predictable due to the microenvironment of the clam/oyster, the pH of the water they are raised in, and the food sources available.

They have huge lakes that are utilized for these clams; multiple lakes at that! 

Oysters are housed and harvested in Salt Water so those are separate. 

The "seeds" implanted into the freshwater clams to form fun pearl shapes

Image taken from Pearlism_03 on TikTok

Pearls ranging from the traditional round shape to hearts, butterflies, moons, and stars are all being farmed and shucked for various pieces of jewelry, to loose pearl collections.  

Aside from everything described above, what I found the most gratifying is that nothing goes to waste. 

When the clams & oysters are harvested, the shells and meat are sent back to the farms for a kind of "recycling" of sorts.

The shells are rendered down for making "seeds" for implants for new pearls to form in naive clams.

The meat is fed to the farm ducks & chickens which I think is great. 

The last 48 hours has been nothing less than "addictive" and I think I have found "my people."

I'm glad I'm not alone in this newfound obsession. But I will say it CAN get expensive! So you need to be careful, or you will be found taking a second mortgage out on a house you don't even own 😂

*You have been Warned*

A lovely dish of King and Edison Pearls from Pearlism_03

There are quite a few Pearl Opening TikTok accounts, so there is plenty of content and pearls to go around! 

Some have better deals than others, most will give Free Gifts with purchase and Newbie gifts for first time buyers. 

I may or may not have a couple of these pearly gems heading my way... 1 of which is going to be a late Birthday gift to my BFF 🎉🎉🎉

The 3 Channels that I have followed so far that seem to be legit companies are:

• Pearlism_03
  
• Pearlism02
  
• Pearllabx77 

Word of caution: While there seems to be a plethora of Pearl Opening accounts, not all are created equal.

I had peeped 2-3 that were the same kinds of Pearl MLM's that used to be extremely popular on Facebook a few years back. One of my former roommates got scammed hard by Vantel Pearls (who is no longer in business but has some lawsuits against it). She paid over $350.00 for cheaply dyed pearls and plated jewelry settings, but never received her order.

After months of back-and-forth emails with the company, she found out the company closed. I'd be irate if I was her.

So far, the customers of the Pearl accounts listed above are happy and all returning which gives me a sense of security in my decision to make a purchase.

I didn't spend a lot, I wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to get scammed like my former roommate.

What triggered alarm bells for me on some of the Pearl opening accounts were the use of the exact same clam that appeared to be Akoya's (those can be pricey!) but were shucking out pearls of colors not seen in nature. Very bright vibrant gemstone-toned pearls being retrieved from Akoya shells.

Avoid those channels like the plague 👎👎

 Genuine Akoya's come in only 4 colors: White, Cream, Gold toned, and rarely Silver toned as seen below

A beautiful collection of Akoya Pearls courtesy of Pearllabx77

Now, the fine folks at Pearllabx77 (Steve & Lewis)... THESE GUYS are a literal comedy duo! 😂

In addition to their exquisite collection of quality pearls, viewers get treated to a live stream of non-stop laughter that make one "ugly cry." I'm about to send them my Botox bill from getting laugh-lines!

The BEST part is (and if you choose to purchase pearls from Pearllabx77, purchase some Akoya's), Lewis makes Steve open the Akoya pearls as they apparently make him gag something fierce!

The stench of these oysters as they are saltwater, has been described as what "Divorce" smells like 😵

Steve on the Left, Lewis on the Right 

As messed up as this sounds, hearing Steve dry heave is hysterical 😂

*Poor Steve... he's going to have to shuck some more oysters cuz momma needs a pair of Akoya earrings* 🦪🦪

I have re-named their channel "Chaos, Comedy, & Clams," and depending on the
direction" of their humor is heading that day, "Only Clams." 

It pretty much sums them up 😉

A lucky customer opened this stunning group of Tahitian Pearls from Pearllabx77

Pearllabx77 Unboxing

 

How Cultured Pearls are made

Happy Shucking! 🦪🦪🦪🦪🦪🦪

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Bittersweet Endings

 

 

Endings. 

I don't know why this hit me so hard today, but as I was going through my email alerts on my phone, I came across a post from USPS which shows physical photos of the mail you will be expecting that day to arrive.

Today was the first (another "First") where there was no mail that was addressed to either parent.

This stung bad for some reason.

Maybe subconsciously it was a comfort to see their names even though I know they are no longer here on earth, on something tangible that showed their existence. Maybe getting their mail, I took it as a "sign" from the universe that they are "still around" even though I cannot see them, hear them, touch them.

 I knew that one day I wouldn't be receiving their mail anymore. I didn't think that day would be today.

I didn't think that I would be reduced to tears staring at an empty mailbox that once held copious amounts of mail & packages addressed to my mom & Carl. It's almost haunting as absurd as that sounds.

Another day, Another "First", and I hate them both equally.

Not today, Satan....

 

As if the universe wasn't tossing enough "jokes" my way lately, it tries to top itself by having my former supervisor who had essentially trashed my reputation with "Bob", and made me largely unemployable for damn near a YEAR after I left the company whom I was working under her for, by getting a Facebook DM from the devil herself.

This bitch is extremely delusional thinking I would ever want to hear from her or about her ever in my life ever again!

Initially I just ignored and did not open the message, but as the days wore on, she just kept adding to her unread messages to me for a total of 3. 

I realize this should be "water under the bridge" and to "forgive and forget." 

Fuck No! I'm going to allow myself to be a petty bitch and remember EVERYTHING she said and had done behind my back to damn near destroy my career because it was evident she was a shit-tastic supervisor.

I have ALL the emails and messages where she is blatantly backstabbing me and not to mention close friends of hers admitted to my face that she was setting me up for failure. It was also said she would do anything to keep her job. Read: Lie & backstab to make her look innocent and have others take the fall for her. 

I wasn't the first of her "victims" either. 

But she will be MY last.

As much as I wanted to ream her a new one, I just blocked her. Blocked her from Facebook, Instagram, from my life. Pretty sure she's on TikTok so I'll have to block her there as well if I find her. 

Until then, RIP 

Ghosts from the past

 

So today had a couple of "jokes" of its own; specifically that of an ex-boyfriend from 1992-93.

I am generally not on Facebook as I find it to be a constant source and stream of drama that I just do not have the intellectual stomach for. I much prefer the simplicity and photography that is on Instagram.

Anyway, I had a message come in via Facebook Messenger this morning from someone I haven't thought of in literal decades; an ex. We will call him "Tom."

 Tom and I had dated in the early 90's, we met in High School and initially HATED each other.

It was my BFF at the time and his BFF that were dating that brought us together. It was a volatile relationship at best, but that is what seriously conflicting values and teenage stupidity will do to you.

I was co-dependent and bored, and he was immature and enjoyed recreational drug use.

This was not a relationship that was going to last. I was too "uptight" and "straight-laced", and he refused to grow up and stop with the drug use.

We broke up, but stayed friends after a cooling off period. He started hanging out with my friend and I, we would go out clubbing practically every weekend. Tom kept hinting on getting back together, but I think I was interested in and seeing someone else... I vaguely remember some punk ass dude that invited us to his Halloween Party and thank god Tom heard me yelling because he broke down the door to the room I was in with this guy who's name I can't recall, to pull him off me.

We left the party after that. I was ready to get the hell out of there! And I think Tom was protective and jealous. 

I don't remember when I stopped talking to Tom, I do remember him telling me that he wasn't happy with his life and didn't seem to have a clear healthy direction to take it in, so he was joining the military.

It wasn't a bad idea seeing as all his friends were going off to college, getting married, moving on with their lives and he was stuck in this sort of holding pattern.

By then, I had been dating someone else, fled the state to get away from said person (they wanted kids and marriage. I was TOO YOUNG to be thinking about that!) and ended up in Texas where I wanted to pursue my Veterinary Degree. 

During my time in Texas, I'm not sure how, but we ended up getting into contact with one another. We had a couple of conversations and then he just blurted out: "Do you want to get married?"

And then there is me on the other end of the phone with my mouth hanging open and a shocked look on my face. The very thing I jumped on a plane to get away from: Marriage.

 After I declined the offer, communication just dropped off and we went on with our lives.

Fast Forward to about 3-4 years ago, I ended up catching up with an old high school friend at dinner where Tom's name got brought up. He had been absent from my thoughts since 1996, until she brought him up.

I was reliably informed that after Tom got back home from the military, he resumed his life as if nothing changed. He went back to his old destructive ways that included alcohol and drug use. Both of which I never want in my own life, so I knew to steer clear of him.

Now after 29 years, he popped back up into my life and my Facebook DM's.

We had a very brief conversation; I immediately saw where it was "heading" towards and told a little white lie about me being engaged. That stopped the conversation in its tracks. 

I won't lie and say I wasn't curious about Tom and what has been happening since the last time we spoke, but I'm not curious enough to let someone back into my life who hasn't grown up and has a pretty obvious substance abuse problem.

Some things are better left in the past, and should not be repeated.

I believe this is a perfect example of just that.

Jugular vs. Carotid

 

Yesterday I was reminded of a blog that I had constructed quite a few years back that was dedicated to someone who meant the world to me (and still does), and within a few minutes of trying to locate the blog address, I was transported back to the memories & feelings of that time.

I plan on keeping that blog address to myself for personal reasons. But I liken that blog to a "Jugular Vein", and this one to the "Carotid Artery."

I say that as both vessels are crucial for one's survival, but one more "delicate in a way" than the other.

Jugular Veins, while "exposed" can pose a health threat, they are veins which when damaged, usually collapse and can prevent (to a degree) death by exsanguination. 

Carotid Arteries are much more complicated than that. 

Those, if cut or damaged, can lead to massive blood loss and death within mere minutes if not attended to by a qualified medical professional. So "exposing mine" here online in a blog that is made Public, is my version of it.

 Little by little I have been blogging about things I would never have told anyone, much less put in print on a public platform. Experiences and feelings that if used against me, would emotionally send me into a tailspin from which I don't know that I could recover from... until now.

I guess most people would call it being an "Exposed Nerve", whereas for me, my life and everything in it was something that I viewed that could "kill me." Not the case anymore as much. I'm still struggling in some areas, and others I have thrown caution to the wind and have a IDGAF attitude about.

So what does all of this have to do with that other blog of mine? Plenty.

In that other blog, I saw at how much I had held back on true emotions, feelings, and much needed information. I held back because it hurt to feel the true weight of everything I was writing about. 

While I didn't lie on those posts, there was a great deal of what I didn't say. 

I guess I didn't feel that I needed to be THAT honest; especially assuming strangers or maybe even the person it was meant for, would read it. 

I had abandoned it for years as there was some major life events that happened in my family so blogging was something that I didn't find to be a priority, much less something I had time to dedicate to.

I tend to get kind of "long winded" and end up with a mild form of carpal tunnel by the time I'm done typing. 

Still no excuse. But that was my reasoning for abandoning the blog at the time. Do not ask me why the old one came to mind to me that day, I have no idea why. Maybe the person it was written for was on my mind. They never have not been. 

They were one of my very best friends in the world and so many times when something happened in my life, I wanted to run to them (and my folks) to tell them what happened, going on, etc... 

Now, I have neither. I just have myself and that has been quite the adjustment. So has allowing myself to express myself openly and truly heal from a lot of things. 

I allowed myself to go through the whole blog because I had largely forgotten exactly what I had written all those years ago. The basic theme I never forgot. 

It was filled with messages of love, apologies, and best of all: memories. Some of my mom that I had forgotten.

Forgetfulness has always been a way of life for me, so blogging helped keep those memories intact. I'm glad I typed those posts and kept them 💖 

If I had to do it all based on my own memory, I'd be screwed.

Maybe that was why I cruised on over to that old blog... There were good memories with my mom and I in there. One of which where I took her to a restaurant that I went to with my friend many years ago, and it turned out that it was the same place that my dad took her for a first date many years before.

I never knew that until she said something, and I am glad that I took the time to write it down. 

It was a rare occasion that she and I shared that was a GOOD memory. Those I am desperately trying to hang onto. That blog post sparked that. 

There were photos that I long forgot about that brought a smile to my face, and some posts that brought tears to my eyes. Showing that in that moment, I was indeed in a lot of pain and could have used some professional help. Even though I was already seeing a therapist, she was not nearly as helpful or effective as the one I have now. 

If anything, she didn't do shit. Just took my insurance money and gave little to no help. 

There's a memory I'd like to forget.

I'm proud of myself in a way. Proud of myself because instead of repeating the pattern of saying just enough but not all, I have done the opposite here. 

I have been not exactly forcing myself to be an "open book" for all to see, rather than allowing myself to be OK if people know the good, the bad, the ugly about me, and the things I have been through. 

Everyone has stories that they are not proud of, myself included. That old blog reminds me of that time in my life that I was not the best person, period. 

It serves as a reminder of what I don't want to be, and to remind me of the friendship that I once had. That people like that do indeed exist and to hold out for those, instead of the ones who "breadcrumb" you. 

Like the saying goes: "Know who is Gold, and who is simply Gold Plated."

I wish I could discern better between the two 😔

Nightmares & Dreamscapes

 

REM Cycles are funny things... at least in my world in the past few nights.

Almost nightly I had experienced a mixture of "normal" dreams and 1 that was sort of a nightmare. I will explain that one in a minute.

Even though my mom and I did not have what I would consider a happy Mother/Daughter relationship, I still love and miss her. My dreams have proven that. 

I was pretty surprised that I had 2 dreams almost back-to-back that had her in them, but the real surprise was seeing my aunt! I had dreamt about my aunt Charlotte many many years ago, she appeared in my dream as a waitress on roller skates in a red curly haired wig, and some crazy make up. Somehow, I knew it was her but sadly I didn't pay much attention to her. I could kick my own ass for that one.

My aunt Charlotte committed suicide in the 90's. She was one of my favorite family members, and definitely my favorite aunt. My mom and her were very close, her death rocked the family something fierce.

I will never forget the look on my grandmother's face when she was looking down at her youngest daughter in a coffin. This wasn't the first child of hers that she had to bury; thankfully it was the last.

I hold very fond memories of my aunt Charlotte and always will. I wish she was still here. Especially now. 

OK, getting back to the original subject of this post: my dreams.

I usually fall asleep watching/listening to various YouTube videos, and apparently the one I was listening to, I ended up dreaming about in the strangest way.

In this dream I ended up at this YouTuber's boyfriend's family's house where his brother and mother still resided. It was "present day" but they still had a Christmas Tree up and there was 1 present still under it.

I don't know why I looked in that direction, but noticed that the gift had a large envelope attached to the top of it and it was my mothers handwriting. Immediately the gift was handed to me by one of the brothers and I kept asking "Was she here?!?! Do you know this is MY Mom's handwriting?!?!?"

I remember being very confused and upset that I missed seeing my mother and wanted to know when & why she was there?... I was pointed in the direction to go down a hall to the mother's room and ask these pertinent questions. I showed her the envelope and she confirmed that Yes, my mom was there and she left me a gift.

In real life, Yes, my mom was alive during Christmas, but was mainly unconscious due to high dose pain meds that kept her pain under control. She did say earlier that year that we wouldn't be celebrating Christmas and made it seem like it was due to finances (which didn't bother me), not to what she knew was coming and had hid from everyone: her terminal Cancer.

In my dream I didn't open the gift, so I never knew what was inside that box, and I didn't open the card, so I never knew what it said. Somehow, I instinctively knew what was written was everything my mom wanted to say to me before she passed away. Somehow, I knew it was filled with apologies, explanations, and most of all: love for me.

It's weird how that knowing that in my dream, it means so much. I just wish I could have heard all of that before she passed. Maybe the dream was the "gift", and the wrapped box was a symbol of that. 

The next dream was a short one, and a real doozy!

This is where I had a second dream about my aunt Charlotte. This time she really knew how to get my attention... in my dream, she owned a horse.

Slight Backstory on this: as a child (and now) Horses have always been a deep love & obsession of mine. I begged my mom for one ever since I could remember, and instead of buying my first car, I bought a horse instead at 15. I've owned horses ever since. 

My aunt told my mom that she thought my mom needed to take me to see a doctor because the obsession with horses was seemingly unnatural to her and my aunt thought there was something mentally wrong with anyone who had such an attachment to any 1 thing. LOL if she only knew

Anyway, in my dream my aunt showed up as herself and she OWNED A HORSE.

Not just any horse, but one that is related to my current horse (expensive Championship show lines), but a stallion. 

OK... that's where I kind of lost my shit in my own dream. I was excited and shocked as hell that my aunt has a horse, BUT unless you are a breeder, there is NO NEED to own a stallion for any reason. 

Then she also had it at a training barn that I used to be at, with a trainer who was a good friend of mine.

The confusing part is that my aunt's stallion is a Western Pleasure bred horse, and this trainer trains Reining horses... 2 different disciplines. 

It was a short dream, like I said, but it was exciting and amusing at the same time.

Maybe this was my aunt's way to let me know "she's still there watching over me." Horses or no horses.

This last most recent dream was more like a nightmare of sorts but to a lessened degree.

True Story: When I was around 6-7 years of age, I had a Husband/Wife babysitting team that I went to after school while my mom was at work. 

Mavis & Gomez. 

They had a granddaughter named Amy who wasn't very nice to me, she was spoiled rotten, and used to bite me all the time. 

I think I know why she was always so angry and mean. It had to be as a result of the crap that she had to go through at that house. I'm sure there were things I never knew about, and really don't want to as a result of what I experienced myself there.

In real life, Gomez was a disgusting pedophile. I think Mavis knew this and that was why she kept Amy away from him as much as she could. 

I was fair game. 

Long story short, Gomez inappropriately touched me, and it freaked me out. I knew well enough what he did was WRONG, but as any fucked-up adult in his situation does, threatened to hurt me if I told on him. So, for years, I kept my mouth shut. 

It didn't go unnoticed that I would religiously avoid ALL men who wanted to touch me in any way (hugs, handshakes, etc) and it finally came out in a counselling session as to what happened so many years ago. My mother was mortified, pissed off, and called her ex (whom she was with at the time of the incident, and it was HIS recommendation to have that couple babysit me in the first place). 

He was absolutely floored and found out later that Gomez died on the kitchen floor of that house from a heart attack. Good Riddance!

Though I always wondered what happened to Amy and how she coped with the dysfunction she experienced.

Back to the dream. 

In my dream I was transported back to Mavis & Gomez's House of Horrors.

It was updated and redecorated, but it was still the same house. 

In my dream, my dog was with me as well. I guess she was there as a source of "comfort", and I was glad she appeared. The living room was the place where Gomez did his dirty deed, and there was a yellow couch that he was always found lying on watching the TV at the other end of the room. 

In my dream, there was no one home and I knew that by now, Mavis had passed on years before, so neither of them would be present there. It seemed that my dog and I were the only ones in that house. 

I don't know WHY I was there, though I do have a penchant for nostalgia. However, I could not imagine EVER wanting to remember anything that had to do with that time in my life, that house, and the people in them. But apparently in my dream, I was there for a reason.

What I found weird but not out of the ordinary, was that I pulled a camera out of my pocket to take photos of the place. I stood at the other end of the room where the TV would have been, to take a photo of the couch where I was violated by another man as a child. 

As I tried to take a photo of the "crime scene", I noticed that no matter how hard I tried, the camera would not focus.

I knew that it was "Gomez" that was blocking my shot. His unseen spirit was trying to cover up the photo of the place where he acted out his past indiscretions.

That was when I got super angry and told him to GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY

I don't remember ever getting that pissed off in any dream, but Damn... I had it built up and he had it coming. If I ever saw him alive in real life as an adult, I probably would have beat the shit out of him. 

Epstein would have loved a man like Gomez. If that gives you any kind of indication of what he was like.

Anyway, after the failed attempt at photographing the couch in the living room, I started walking through the house to see what the rest of the rooms looked like.

I got to Mavis's old room and saw that there was indeed another person sleeping on the bed and the room was an absolute mess! Clothes basically flung everywhere, and the person was a female and face down asleep. I don't know who that was, but it was not Mavis or Amy. 

About that time was when I woke up, so I did not have time to find out who she was or see the rest of the house. That's OK... I really didn't want to be in that house anymore. Waking up was a blessing.

I hope to never dream about that house, or those people ever again. However, it was nice to know and "see" that I could incite a fit of rage if needed in a REM cycle.

The last dream I had with my mom in it, was unfortunately another short one. 

We were in a car where I was driving, and we were coming up to a toll booth (not sure where we were going or why there was a toll booth). I remember looking at her and telling her that I wished that God would allow me to still see and talk to her even though she was dead. Basically, having the ability to see/hear/conversate with her even if those around me could not see & hear what I do.

Mom was eating something from a Drive Thru so she couldn't speak but did smile at me, acknowledging me and what I had said. 

I woke up before we went through the toll booth, or before she could verbally say anything. 

I was happy to have seen and "spend time with her" again, but sad that I didn't get any direct communication from her. 

I'm grateful for what I am getting in my dreams from her and the rest of my family... but I will always want more.