Is Recycling Ridiculous?

First-world problems coming in hot, but my recycling issues are a mess. Our recycling company only comes every other week. I shared this with a friend in New York and she kind of freaked out. She asked how I manage. She said she had never heard of such an infrequent schedule. Her recycling comes twice a week. TWICE A WEEK! What?! I’m a busy mom, and I frequently order online from Target or Amazon. However, it’s not just the broken-down boxes I’m trying to fit into the tapered container that’s a problem, it’s the apple juice containers, milk jugs, vegetable cans, and Power Aid containers, etc. Also, they use a robotic arm to pick up the can, so most of the time my overflowing recycling container is pouring out into the street and I’m chasing the refuse down like a mad woman. I mean, what happens on the days I’m...
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The Ugly Truth About Writing

It sucks. I don’t need to write anymore, but I’m gonna. Please re-read that last sentence with all the sass God, Heather, and your own personal verbosity allow. Reasons writing sucks: The English language is ridiculous. Therefore, trying to communicate a message in the confines of its impossible structure creates difficulties. People don’t like to read. So, they frequently only read a few words, completely misunderstand the context of the text, and share bad information at your expense. Super fun. And dumb. If you’re looking to make money off said writing, well, pull up a chair and let Aunt Heather tell you a story. Many years ago, I decided to take on the inexplicable task of writing a children’s book. I’m sure you’ve not heard of it. It’s called Caroline Girls. It’s so beautiful and I’m so proud of it, but it barely left the ground. I hustled hard for...
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Hey Spammers, Are You Proud Of Your Life Choices?

I am so sick of all the spammers of the world; I could be physically ill. A few years ago, I swore off Gmail because I was being spammed so aggressively, I just couldn’t take it anymore. Eventually, I ended up slinking back, but that’s another story. Then my husband and I switched cell phone providers, and our spam calls went through the roof and MAN have they gotten sneaky. The call pops up with a person’s name, so it looks like it’s in your contacts or a person you know. We downloaded spam filters, which helped, but didn’t solve the problem. Some legislation passed which helped more. Things slow down in the spam world, but recently I’m seeing an uptick. Now I’m being spammed on my professional work email. Oh, and this one dude is legit fighting with me after I've asked nicely to be removed. ENOUGH! Honestly, I’m...
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Facing Our Fragility: Why Friendships Matter Most When We Feel Weak

This is going to be a tough one, so buckle up. I'm actually a really fragile person. I know I try to act like I'm so confident, but it's all a facade. I'm doing my best to protect myself from the world. You see as an anxiety-riddled over-thinker, I hurt my own feelings on a daily basis. I don't need anyone else dog piling on top of me. It turns out, I'm not the only one who behaves this way. In fact, recently, People Magazine sent me a complimentary copy of their most recent issue and Pink was on the cover. Her story really resonated with me. I ripped out a couple of pages and put them in my office as reminders to myself. Here are a couple of the images from the article. Fragility and Negative Self Talk I was asking a friend this week for some advice about...
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Heather Chastain

About Heather

(So, my web designer says I needed to include a bio, though I find this task silly because, if you’re here, you know me.)

I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s a cathartic mechanism when I need release from my anxiety. I’ve had blogs in the past; I’ve taken them down, but I never stopped writing. I simply can’t. My notes app is forever long as it’s filled with pages and pages of different topics. Sometimes I just write a few sentences. Sometimes I write paragraphs.

Recently, I've been writing long essays. My friends and others I hold dear have coaxed me into sharing my work again.

So that's what I'm doing, you wicked, pushy people. LOL

I have no desire to see my writing be anything more than an opportunity to share what I love doing most. I have no interest in this blog reaching the masses.

I thought it would be fun to call it My Spicy Disaster because that's often how I feel. A complete mess of epic proportion. So join me, if you'd like, and let's pretend we're not sitting amongst the chaos crying, but laughing instead.

Or maybe we do cry sometimes, but then wipe our tears and remember one person’s disaster is another person’s … well, who the hell knows …