I am back in action, and what a night to find myself seated on my couch, live Tweeting every single thing the news tells me and each individual thought running through my head as this election unfolds. That’s right! It’s Election Day here in this good American country, and what an election it is turning out to be. Right from the start, I knew it was going to be close. It’s not helping that Florida is completely 50/50 right now.
Florida is a key state.
For the sake of my role as Jedi, I am not going to state who I am rooting for in this presidential election. I’ve cast my vote, I’ve dealt my hand in this democratic action, and now it’s all that I can do. Oh, I’ll be screaming at my television and laughing manically when things turn out the way I want them to, and I’ll cringe every time my stomach drops when my candidate loses another state.
All I can hope is that each and every American decided to pull themselves away from their desk or up off their couch for 10 minutes, make their way to their polling place, and exercising their right to vote for who will lead this country. I don’t care who you vote for, and I don’t care your reasonings. Just get out and vote!
I seriously cannot take this right now. Where the hell did the night go? I’ve been sucked into this crap all night long. I have never live Tweeted anything as hard-core as I have this election. #Election2012. This is insane, and unreal.
Although I do have to say, I don’t think this electoral vote system really works. I mean, look back at the election year of Bush vs Gore. A majority of the country was red in favor of Al Gore…but yet Bush was able to win key states with the highest numbers of electoral votes. Very few states were blue that year, but Bush still walked away POTUS. While I may not have liked Al Gore…if a majority of the country voted for him, technically he should have won the election.
Just thinking about it makes my head hurt. I should just down another glass of wine, set my phone alarm, and pass out on the couch if I so feel the need. I’m not turning this TV off any time soon.
I tried distracting myself by watching No Stings Attached, but I made it through all the sexy bits before it turns all lovey-dovey and I could not watch the election reports anymore. Man, I should work in politics. This really is getting my blood boiling. I couldn’t imagine being a member of the Obama or Romney parties right now, simply sitting in their hotel rooms “calmly” watching the results roll in.
I’d be pulling my hair out and pacing in a room where cameras wouldn’t be allowed to access. I also tend to freak out about these types of things at the very last-minute.
“The funny thing about being a porn star is that everyone automatically assumes that they can sleep with you.”
Jenna Jameson, an adult entertainer, touches on an interesting subject on this Election Night. I’m going to go ahead and throw it out there, controversy be damned. Bill Clinton was a terrific president. When you take away the sex scandal and every other stupid male thing he did, and you look solely at how he operated as POTUS, he was by far one of the best this country has had.
While he should not have lied while under oath, or been so blatant about his sexual actions, but if my neighbor was caught doing the same things that Clinton was, no one would give two glances back at him. Granted, he isn’t POTUS, but still. He is a man who would have committed adultery. I’m sure it didn’t affect his work life.
Just an example, people. I’m going to stop before I dig myself a bigger hole.
I think our country just re-elected our President, and its moments like this I am proud to be an American. Democracy can work, but the pieces have to work together in harmony.
Time to celebrate, and then hit the sheets.
I’m probably going to regret these words in the morning, but here goes nothing: I feel disgusting.
Yep, I sure do. Why, you might be asking yourself? Why would someone who eats less than 1500 calories a day (naturally) feel disgusting in her own flesh and skin? I’m putting myself through hell right now, that’s why.
I’ve signed myself up for 8-weeks of fitness classes and tomorrow is the first Wednesday class. Not so bad…until you realize it’s at 7 am in the morning. Yup, you heard me right. That early in the morning, and then I have a full 8-hour day ahead of me. What am I going to do when it’s not yoga? I sweat on a very manly level, and what happens when we get to kickboxing or step?
I’m going to be soaked, and I’ll only have 20 minutes to look presentable for my office afterwards. I just need my hair to cooperate one morning a week. That’s not so much to ask, is it? We shall see how the next two months play out.
On top of everything else right now, I opened the oven to remove my single-serve pizza and the heat blast not only fogged up my glasses with steam, but it also melted my mascara to my eyelashes and I could feel them stick to my upper eyelids. Ugh I’m just a mess right now!
“To be a star is to own the world and all the people in it. After a taste of stardom, everything else is poverty.”
Those are the words of Hedy Lamarr, who is quite the scene stealer herself. Why do these words ring true to my soul? I’m not making a fuss over myself right now because I feel like I’m lacking my ‘star quality.’
Oh, what am I saying? I’ve been telling myself for a while that I’ve lost my personal sense of stardom. I used to be the star in my own life. Friends, many invitations to hang-out and party, money to spend on books/clothes/music, and I would look in the mirror and actually like what I see. Now? I usually tell myself one of two things: 1.) You’re looking a little dark around the eyes (from lack of sleep, no doubt), or 2.) Damn that hair/make-up smudge/rebel eyebrow hair.
Do you see a problem with this? I’m not looking in the mirror and saying how beautiful I think I am. Inside AND out. I’m not doing that. I’m not looking at myself and seeing something beautiful. I’m looking at myself and seeing a sad sack of lumpiness.
I’m not kidding. Does this make me sound terrible self-deprecating or what?
Don’t get me wrong. I have my good days where I look and say, “Hey. I’m looking pretty dang good right now, and that lip gloss is totally banging.” (Okay, maybe not that last part.) You get what I mean.
I’m also sitting here watching Glee (and the terrible drama that is Rachel Berry losing her virginity to Jesse James of vocal adrenaline), eating a cheese pizza along with sour cream and onion chips. I went shopping instead of going to the gym like I had originally planned.
Fat is what I’m feeling right now. I am so not getting my insurance money back from hitting my gym visitation quota this month. Not unless I kick myself in the butt. And, I mean kick my butt seriously. Yoga at 7 am is one thing. Going to the gym 8-12 times a month is a completely new beast.
I also meant to cook dinner tonight (Cue evil looks from my sister for not following through on that exclamation of the night. I’m sorry, but you were upstairs doing whatever with your fiance, and I had a headache and just didn’t feel like cooking tonight! I’ll do it tomorrow, damn it!)
For right now, I’m just going to settle down with my pizza and watch the rest of this virginity drama. Then, I need to hit my sheets (not for that reason!). I have to be up early to get my yoga on.
Yoga is the mind-settler of the Jedi. It lets you connect all that is around you, and all that is within you. It might sound like mumbo-jumbo, but it actually works.
If you don’t believe me? Try it yourself. If you let yourself go and lose yourself in the movement, you might feel the connectedness, too. But, seriously. Just try it.
I’m having another minor surgery in less than 3 hours. More tissue samples need to be taken, and since this is the second time I’m going through this same procedure, they’re going a little deeper than before. To really see what’s going on with my body and the evil little strands that want to tear it apart.
Let’s just say I am not looking forward to my afternoon.
On top of that, I’ve been really flighty-minded, and have totally spaced on every important date I’ve needed to remember for the past couple weeks. So, of course, I forgot to ask for time off when my part-time “fun” job posted this week’s schedule, and I was out-of-town the whole previous weekend, leaving me absolutely no time to find someone to switch shifts with me.
So…I’m getting cut into and then have to stand on my feet for about 4 hours after that. I’m in for such a good sleep tonight. Any type of painkiller I can find, I’m going to be knocking it down the hatch, that’s for dang sure.
“My whole life has been absurd.”
The words of Holocaust survivor and post-minimalist sculptor, Eva Hesse. I’d have to agree with her. My life has been one bump, turn, and 180 flip since the beginning of time, and it’s going to stay that way. I just know it. I like to look at it as a curse and a blessing all wrapped into one big hug from the universe.
But I don’t want to think about the curses, I want to think about the good things. Like how I spent this past weekend cuddling the cutest toddlers anyone could ask for. Or how I was able to spend time with my brother and sisters, my mom and dad, and laugh and giggle like we used to when we all lived under the same roof. How I cried as I told them what might be happening with me, and how they all told me they were behind me no matter what happened.
Just thinking about it right now, I have tears threatening my eyes. I love my family, and God help anyone who tries to hurt them while I’m still living and breathing. A bit dramatic, maybe. But the meaning behind the words still stands the same whether I’m smiling as I say it or not.
A little behind the times (when am I not?) but here are the things that made my past week oh-so-fabulous, and I promise the next few times I come to share with you, you’ll find me in a much happier, more upbeat tone. That…I can promise. I don’t like feeling like a big bunch of yuck the moment I wake up. I just don’t. So…happier times ahead.
Here are my Fabulous Fridays:
Fabulous Fairy Tale Photograph:
Fabulous New Bag:
Fabulous Fall Look:
Fabulous Laugh Take 2:
We’re all busy people.
Yesterday was September 11. A date which will live in infamy for my lifetime.
It’s pretty much the Pearl Harbor of our generation. I know exactly where I was the moment I heard the news. I was in the 8th grade, and I was riding the bus to school. Of all things…I was riding the bus. I heard my favorite DJ announce the news on my fave radio station. At first, I thought he was joking. I’d recently gotten myself into a slightly obsessive military phase. What I mean by that is, anything resembling army gear, I wanted it and I wanted it bad.
This was the time the seed was planted for me to join the army, to be all that I can be. Plus, at that time, it was still slightly unheard of for women to join the army. After watching and falling in love with the movie Black Hawk Down, I moved my gaze to more difficult obstacles for women. I wanted to be an Army Ranger, and if possible, a Delta Ranger. I had the mindset of steel. No one was going to tell me no, especially not a man in army fatigues. I’d outlast them all.
Anyways, along with this new plan (but what sort of plan do you actually follow through on at the age of 14?), I wanted the wardrobe to match the master idea. So, camouflage pants, camouflage T-shirts, black tank tops, heavy-duty army-style boots (tall and short), tan undershirts, dog tags that read ‘Army Brat’….anything military inspired, I either wanted to wear it or own it.
So, it’s September 11, and I’m riding the bus to school wearing my heavy brown army boots, and I hear the DJ make this announcement. My ears didn’t perk up until the third time he said something, and I instantly thought, “Oh no. They’re attacking headquarters. They must be stopped!”
“I have often depended on the blindness of strangers,”
A font of funny lines, Adrienne Gusoff, has hit it on the mark with this one. Let’s just say we all knew I was a drama-filled kid from an early age, but nowadays and starting back when I was a young thing, when I put my mind to something, I went at it with all speed ahead. When I was set on joining the military, I wanted people to know it. Hence, the sudden wardrobe change (however, I drew the line at buzz cuts.)
But, being the juvenile that I was, I hadn’t quite grasped entirely what was going on. Not until I walked into second period English, and the teacher had the TV on, watching the first Tower smoke its way across the sky. That’s when it hit me, what really was going on. We talked about it all during first period Band, and we attempted to play a song, but we all knew our teacher’s mind wasn’t in it. So we talked about it instead.
It was in English when the 2nd Tower fell, and my teacher brushed it off as repeat footage of the first tower falling. But it wasn’t. The 2nd Tower collapsed, and I felt my heart drop as I stared at the TV screen. How could both Towers suddenly be gone? Just like that? Through the haze and the smoke, two very large holes now gaped widely at the world. My next thought? “Who the hell gets the idea to fly two planes into towers filled with people? How is this possible?”
I didn’t personally know anyone in the Towers or anyone on the planes which crashed into the Pentagon or into the field in Pennsylvania. But my heart went out to those who lost their loved ones, or who would be put to the worst test of all time: the unknown. They didn’t know if their family/friends were alive, and they would have to wait.
Waiting is the worst. I think waiting kills more people than actual disasters or diseases.
I visited the Sept. 11 memorial site in the spring of 2007, and I was overcome with so many feelings. I didn’t actually cry, but my gut was twisted in every which way and I couldn’t eat for hours afterwards. The lists of names of those still missing, the notes and mementos left for those still hoping for the biggest of miracles. Someone was playing their violin and the soft notes of “America the Beautiful” made my heart ache. Staring into the pit of the rubble (which was all cleared away by this time, but this giant hole still remained), I couldn’t help but wonder what is was like here…on this infamous day six years ago…to look up and see the towers smoking on the horizon and knowing tomorrow when you woke up, the world would be a different place.
The movie “World Trade Center” always brings me to tears, and maybe for a few not so obvious reasons. I’ve always loved Nicholas Cage, but here was a new take for him. He breaks my heart. Mario Bello and Maggie Gyllenhal do, too. I wasn’t with anyone who waited for word on a loved one down at the tower site, but I feel like I’m right there with them. The anguish that crosses their faces kills me. One question is raised by a police officer in the movie, the one who crawled down into the void to pull Cage and Pena’s characters out of the rubble: “All these people in these towers…Where are they? Where did they go?”
I often ask myself the same question when I think about those still missing.
Along with remembering the tragedy of the day, and sending out love and hugs to those greatly hurt by the hatred and terror of those we don’t entirely understand, we must also thank those who gave their lives or put themselves on the line all in the name of hope, brotherhood, and because it was the right thing to do. It’s amazing how human we all become despite out difference when tragedy strikes as hard and swift as September 11 saw all those years ago. Honestly, it feels like yesterday.
I want to thank them all: Policemen, firemen, first responders, military personnel, the National Guard, doctors, nurses, priests, the families, the spouses, the friends, the common man on the street who decided he’d put his best effort forth, complete strangers who quickly became friends. Everyone…thank you.
On that note, here are a few things to keep your spirits high. Out of darkness, a bright light will shine.
– Every dream-come-true starts with hope.
– You have every reason to feel confident. You’re amazing.
– It’s time to be who you were meant to be: a success story!
– Positive thinking works — and its free.
– You will have more triumphs than troubles.
– One smile can make everything better. Especially your smile.
– No need to try so hard. You’re alreadyterrific!
It’s always darkest right before the dawn. We’re stronger than we were yesterday, and we can only go up from here.
Take it easy, and hug those who you love most.
I literally just typed three different starting sentences to this posting, and deleted them all. Flat out. Finger finds the ‘Delete’ button and holds on for dear life.
It’s Monday. What else do you want from me? Seriously, I cannot tell you how much my fingers do not want to type right now. They’re been typing all day long. Strange to hear me complain about typing when I’m a writer. A self-proclaimed writer, and how else does one write these days for fear of their house burning down and taking everything with it?
However, there’s nothing like opening a brand new notebook and staring that pristine white paper. Lines crisp and blue. So blue you find yourself staring at the veins in your arm and you realize the blue colors match. The veins might be a touch bluer. The lines so close together you wonder how your handwriting could possibly fit between those itty-bitty lines.
Then, you put your pen tip to the page, and you just start writing.
It could be gibberish. It could be brilliance. You just keep writing.You write because you have to. My fingers start to hurt when I haven’t written for a good stretch of time. Seriously. It sounds a bit psychotic, but its true. It’s like a doctor who hasn’t operated in several weeks. They just need that scalpel in their hand and they need to cut, cut, cut.
That could be the Christina Yang coming out in me. My sister exclaimed the other day while sitting at her laptop. Netflix let her know Season 8 of grey’s Anatomy is now available on Netflix. There goes the next so many hours of my evening in the upcoming weeks. I haven’t watched that show in what feels like forever. Yet, I somehow remember what’s going on.
“Beautiful women seldom want to act. They are afraid of emotion and they do not try to extract anything from a character that they are portraying, because in expressing emotion they may encourage crow’s feet and laughing wrinkles. They avoid anything that will disturb their placidity of countenance, for placidity of countenance insures a smooth skin.”
Those are quite the stinging words of Laurette Taylor, tops in early twentieth-century theater. However, I have shed my fair share of tears in the past 24 hours, and it was without fear of how “ugly” I look. Emotion speaks volumes, and it’s a terrifying thing, to feel something beyond our control. I had to ask the question the other day, “Why do we cry when we’re sad?” I dont’ have the slightest clue, but I sometimes wish we expressed sadness in other ways.
It stings, yes, but how very true her words are. I can thin of one solid example of why this is ludicrous, and yet oh so true. Charlize Theron was heavily hailed as a true contender for her portrayal of Aileen Wornos in the film “Monster,” and she later would win at that year’s Oscars int he category of Best Leading Actress. Not only was she hailed as glorious for her acting abilities, but she was also praised for her ability and fearlessness when it came to her appearance. She was able to “ugly up” for her part, and really “lose herself in the role.”
The main thing they did to her, make-up wise? Shaved off her eyebrows. Daring, yes. Daring enough for a seasoned actress and worth all the critical acclaim based on her appearance alone? I don’t think so. Let the work speak. Not the eyebrows. I’m sure there are plenty of teenage girls out there who thought they had an easier solution to taming their eyebrows by using a razor versus a tweezers or wax strip.
Getting rid of your eyebrows is not a new phenomenon. Teenage girls have been doing it since the beginning of time as they try to master the art of Tweezing.
I spent way too much time this past weekend crying my eyes out. I will never understand how certain people don’t blink an eye at the generosity that has been bestowed upon them. They didn’t ask, but kindness was spread to them because it was clear they needed it. It was clear help from outside hands were needed, and so what do people with great, great hearts do? They open their arms, their minds, and more importantly their hearts to you. They give everything you could possibly need because it was written across your forehead: “I need help, but don’t know how to ask for it because I have found myself in a giant hole with not a shovel to dig my way out.”
After all this kindness, what happens? Childish behavior is what happens. “I’m going to act like a 13-year-old girl because I have nothing better to do with myself.” You have no money, so you mooch off the one providing a living for you (and then complain to your family you are being controlled and manipulated…yet you openly refuse to get a job.) You have a child, but refuse to act like a mother. Instead, you push your son off on everyone else you actually does care for him because, well, you know we can’t say no. Because we care about the welfare of that little boy more than you ever will.
Your priorities? Staying out until 5 in the morning after staying out at a bar until 2 am, or you head out to a dance club near a military base where a large handful of men away on leave are not so subtle in what they’re looking for on weekend evening. What the hell is going through your mind? You have a son at home. Don’t you want to be home with him? Apparently not. You’d rather get drunk, and then sleep until noon when your son needs you up to feed and change him. To take care of him.
All things a mother shouldn’t have to think twice about. It’s no longer about you, you, you. You have someone depending on you. Don’t screw it up or you will have this Jedi to deal with.
I have dealt my hand. You hurt that little boy, I will not stand for it. Get your act together. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re an adult with real adult issues. Stop acting like the world owes you everything when you barely lift a finger to help the world, let alone those who have given you a place to stay, food to eat, and a car to drive.
Yet, you shit all over everyone. If reincarnation is indeed real, I hope you come back as a leech. It’s what you are now, so it really wouldn’t be much of a change for you. Latch on, suck them dry, and move on to the next. Encounter something you don’t like? Bite and bite again. Because hurting someone is always the answer. It definitely makes it easier to forgive you later down the line.
I have no respect for certain people anymore, and I honestly fear for them if we are ever left alone in a room together. When my mouth starts going, and I am fueled by this burning desire to smack you upside the head in the hopes it will straighten things out up in your noggin, I’m not that fun to be around. In fact, I am downright frightening.
Don’t cross me. The more I cry, the harder I hit.
Especially when family is on the line.
Basically, I packed up my entire apartment and found myself moving.It wasn’t an unexpected move by any means. No, not at all. I knew I was moving, and had been packing up all week. But the weekend came much sooner than anticipated, and now I can happily say I’m moved into my new bachelorette pad.
What else does a girl need? I have a bedroom, a living room/work space with a couch and (hopefully soon to be operating) TV with DVD player (my first Big Girl purchase!) I have a walk-in closet that I am almost embarrassed to say is already plump full with clothes, and this is after going through and donating a good chunk of things to Good Will. I need to do it about three more times, except I cannot be present to argue why I should keep that stretchy blue sweater in my wardrobe. I just can’t be, otherwise nothing will be taken away.
And being a woman, I only know more clothing items will call my closest home before I find the next place to move into presently.
I won’t be staying in this bachelorette pad long-term. Sadly. it’s really starting to become my space and I’ve only been there for 3 days! When you take away the fancy words of ‘Bachelorette Pad’ and ‘Walk-In Closest,’ you will discover I’m living in the basement level of my sister’s house which she bought with her fiance a few weeks ago. Since starting my new job, the wedding coming up in a few months, and the chaos of moving, I really didn’t have a ton of time to track down potential roommates or a place of my own to move into. For the time being, I’m living with them in their basement, which they have graciously allowed me to inhabit.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Isn’t it going to be weird when you move back when they become newlyweds? Yeah, maybe a little bit, but guess what? I have a door that I can escape out if I start to hear awful noises above my head…and by that time, I’m hoping to have bought a new music sound system so I can blast Hans Zimmer whenever I feel like it and just get lost in my own little world.
It’s really fun having my own space to decorate and play around with. Sadly, I’m not being allowed to hang any of my Star Wars posters or inspirational quote boards on the walls. Nail holes would only wreck their new walls. Oh, and did I mention my level is the only one that has carpeting? It’ll be nice once winter hits. I’m thinking the hardwood floors are going to get awfully cold in the winter time, but I guess we’ll see. I’ve only been in the house for 3 days, and I already spilled a touch of Rockstar on the carpet. Shhhh, don’t tell anyone. All I can say is Thank God it wasn’t the red-colored one I usually tend to get.
Watch, I’ll go home tonight and there will be the ugliest stain I’ve ever seen i my entire life. Of course I spilled it while getting my shampoo out of its moving box in the wee hours of this morning, too. FML sometimes. (By the by, whatever happened to saying FML?)
“I suppose that if you want to be famous, and suddenly it happens and you don’t like it, it’s nobody’s fault but your own.”
How many present-day celebrities need to hear this? I wish they were as wise and clever as you Margot Kiddar, the film phemon back in the day.
At the same time, one could look at this and decide that it all comes down to attention given from actions taken. If you don’t want people talking about you three weeks later after that one amazing part that absolutely everyone was going to be at, then you probably shouldn’t make out with every other guy you run into while you’re there. Don’t want annoying people you half-remember calling you for booty meet-ups at midnight every other night? Don’t give you your phone number like a drunken idiot.
The opposite could also be said. Want people to notice you? Go out on a limb and try something new (without embarrassing yourself, of course. Keep your best interests at heart!) Sometimes, I just don’t know what I’m getting at. I haven’t done anything completely and ridiculously crazy as of late. Could be a good thing, could be a bad thing. I haven’t decided yet.
The most daring thing I’ve done in the past seven days? Jump into the lake when it felt like the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of December. Just because it’s 80 degrees on the sand doesn’t mean the lake is the same temperature, people. It’s the beauty and curse of the water.
A part of me is also yearning for that next relationship. It doesn’t help living with newlyweds, that’s for sure. Yes, I could have tried super hard to find my own place to live in the last month, but knowing myself, I would not have been satisfied with anything so quickly available in a month’s time, and I’m not daring enough to live in the ghetto part of town. Sorry, I’m just not. I probably could have done a lot of different things, but in the end, I moved with my sister to her new house. 1.) The house is really cute, and I wish I had a picture to show you to prove it, 2.) My sister is my best friend. It’s nice knowing my best friend is just a floor above my head instead of all the way across town (even though eventually, this will be the reality of things), and 3.) I already don’t deal well with change. When we started moving things on Saturday morning? Oh, it was bad. I was crabby, I didn’t want to lift anything more than I had to, and I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Apartment #9.
I’m still not ready to say good-bye.
My mind kept jumping to the final episode of Friends, when each one of them gives up their key to that apartment with the purple walls and it sits empty of every piece of furniture we spent 10 years loving. Like Monica said, “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
A lot of great things happened in Apartment #9. Moments I’ll hold on to for time to come, I’m sure. But like everything else, it too shall pass. It’s time to move on.
A new residence means a new turn of events in my life, right? Fingers crossed. I mean, it’s still the year of the Dragon. It’s still my year to shine and have good fortune smile upon me. So far, I’ve got the job, the sweet home hook-up. Now, the romantic side of things can start to heat up. I miss being in a solid relationship. Sure, one-night trysts are all fun and good, but eventually they’re going to lose their excitement value, too.
I’m still holding out for engagement by the age of 30.
(Since I have missed two Fabulous Fridays in a row, expect a deluxe version of the two missed weeks tomorrow! My special treat. No ramblings or wonderings. Just a quote, and the amazing, Fabulous things I’ve come across in the last two weeks prior to the big Moving Day 🙂 )
Well, where to being with my weekend.
It started out with the best Friday imaginable. I got the phone call I’ve been waiting for since graduating from the Academy. Oh, yes. After dozens of applications and too many hours to count of energy being poured into cover letters, I can now say it has all successfully paid off.
That’s right. In the matter of a few week’s time, I will be assuming a position behind my new desk and working in the field of communications, marketing and event planning. The best part? I’m only working the occasional night and weekend, whenever an event is going on. In a few week’s time, I’ll be working normal business hours like the majority of the world. I’ll be able to plan evenings out with people…I won’t have to fight two different schedules if I happen to get asked out on a date…When I say I’m coming home for the weekend to visit, I can actually go home on the weekend to visit!
It’s the little things that are making me the happiest individual in the world right now. Well…I wouldn’t say the happiest, but at this current moment in time, two out of the three major areas of my life are successfully working.
In case you’re unsure of what three areas of life I’m talking about, I’m referring to the Social, Professional, and Love areas of my life. My professional life is preparing for take-off. I’m assuming my first Big Girl Job (with my own desk, computer, and everything! They’re even bringing in someone to adjust my chair and computer to the heights required for me to work in a healthy work environment. Like, holy crap! I’m getting my chair adjusted as a part of my job!)
My Social life is doing pretty decently. I’ve been reconnecting with my sister in new ways, which has been really nice. Especially with her wedding looking ever closer with each passing day. But, I’ve been catching up with friends, hanging out with old ones, and just living life the way its meant to be lived.
My Love life on the other hand…well, let’s just say it’s lacking. Incredibly lacking in every way possible. I don’t know where things went wrong, or even if things are wrong. The guy I’ve been seeing for a couple of months now and I clearly on two different pages, and I’m not quite sure how it got this far separated. Since we started seeing each other again up until now, we always texted each other a little something throughout the day. Nothing lovey-dovey or mushy or anything like that. Little tidbits of information, like MMA was a huge factor in defining Bane’s fighting style in The Dark Knight Rises, or how Peter Jackson might be turning The Hobbit into a three-part saga. Things we’re both interested in, and as we send it, we know the other person is going to appreciate it.
This past weekend was the first time we didn’t communicate at all. No phone call, no texts, no nothing. Even when I went home for a 3-day weekend for the Bachelorette Party, he texted me merely to say ‘Hope you’re having a good time.’ Something like that.
“It’s not that men fear intimacy…it’s that they’re hypochondriacs of intimacy: They always think they have it when they don’t.”
Lorrie Moore, a major American novelist, makes me think the worst in my current love life situation. I don’t know what else I can do here. Any major, drastic moves I make will either scare the poor guy away or he’ll really think I’m crazy and just write me off as the nut job he’ll never associate with again.
On top of everything, we’re now on a sort of unspoken radio silence. Why? I have no clue, and all I want to do is get it all out in the open. If we’re on the same page, then fine. But if I’m under the impression this relationship is going somewhere different from he’s thinking, we both need to be aware of that.
At this point in time, I don’t want us resorting back to dropping off the planet from each other for month’s on end like we’ve done in the past.
Only time will tell, however. A part of me didn’t want to give in and text him first, merely so I could see how long it would take him to text me, if he even decided to text me at all. But I gave in about an hour ago and shot one off asking how his weekend was and if he’d want to get together this evening.
Like I said, time will tell.
Other than the three ares of my life trying to figure themselves out, it’s been a pretty freaking spectacular weekend. I was in the best mood ever while at work on Saturday (where my main other coworker quit, so who got asked to pull a double with only 8 hours notice. THIS girl, of course) because I see the light at the end of the tunnel. In three weeks time, I will be starting my new job, and hopefully will never face the possibility of working on Christmas Day ever again.
Sunday turned out to be unbelievably gorgeous, so what else is there to do but hit up the beach on one of the hottest days of the year. We hit the sand, blew up a few kiddie sized inner tubes and floating mattresses, and floated in the lake for a solid hour and a half. Finally dragged ourselves out of the water to grab refreshments and a tropical frozen fruit bar (which was remarkably delicious). Laid on our towels for a tiny bit before flipping ourselves over on the floaties to go back out on the water.
At the end of the day and looking at my tan lines in the mirror, I can happily say I am well-done 🙂
Since I missed it due to my brain exploding in happiness, here’s my overdue reasons (besides the big obvious reason) why my Friday was so Fabulous:
Fabulous Summer Outfit:
Fabulous Video: The Dark Knight Rises meets The Lion King. Winner!
Fabulous Bit of Inspiration:
Fabulous DIY Project:
Fabulous Healthy Summer Recipe:
Fabulous Olympian to Watch:
Fabulous Superhero Obsession:
Fabulous Weekend Calorie Splurge:
Fabulous Packing List:
Fabulous Under Garments:
Make sure to tune and cheer for your country as the Olympics continue to unfold! I know I’ve found myself shouting at the TV on more than one occasion in the last three days, and I’m very upset you can’t live stream simply on the internet so I can watch while I’m at work here. Oh well, if the weather continues to be cloudy, I’ll be plopped on the couch cheering for the good ol’ USA.
While everyone else was out to the theater’s to watch the midnight showing of The Dark Knight Rises, I walked in to see a different movie which has been garnering great critical praise: Brave.
Brave introduces us to the first Disney Pixar princess, and I have to say, I fell in love with her. Probably because I could relate to her in every possible way. But, I fell in love with that fiery red hair, those dazzling clear blue eyes, and her sassy Irish tongue. She is a girl I’d be friends with, even if mostly we wanted to kill each other.
It was a traditional story of sorts: A young woman born into the royal family of her country (in this case, Scotland) is slightly be forced by the powerhouse mother of her’s to give up on the way she’s been living her life (carefree and wildly unacceptable by princess standards) to assume her title, but not before being betrothed to the one of the 1st born sons of the fellow Scottish clans which make up their great kingdom.
Her name is Princess Merida, and she is your typical tomboy…if tomboy was even a title back in the day of the Scottish brogue living in giant stone castles. She’s one of the boys. No, scratch that. She’s better than all of the boys put together! Merida is my kind of gal. Her bow is the most prized possession she could ever own, and when her mother forbids her from ever shooting a single arrow ever again, I honestly felt my heart-break. It’s the same as my mother telling me to go put my lightsaber away and never speak of Star Wars again.
It would be unheard of, and I most certainly would rebel.
It’s takes a strong spirit to be able to look both your parents in the face and say, “I’ll be shooting for my own hand.” Basically, no man is ever going to be good enough for me until I decide he is, so back off and I’ll choose my lifetime lover when I’m darn good and ready!
It’s going to take quite the special man to steal this heart of mine to being with, anyways.
“A grown woman should not have to masquerade as a girl in order to remain in the land of living.”
I love these words spoken by Germaine Greer, a screed writer. I hate this idea that the older we get in age, the more “respectable” we have to be as women.
Now, let me get one thing straight. I believe a woman should possess a certain amount of qualities. All the great ones do, anyways. She should be charming, know how to dress for her body type, have “her” particular scent/perfume picked out, have an opinion on one (if not more) major issue of her current times, be able to laugh at herself, have a drink of choice when out with the ladies, know what she likes in bed, and most importantly, not give a damn about what people think of her when she’s purely being herself.
Why should all these things change once we hit a certain age? Age ain’t nothing but a number, right? (When it comes to most living situations…not all dating situations, however, but that’s a different topic for a different time.)
The reason I like this so much? The mother in Brave is a criminal of Greer’s words. She passes herself off as one thing in order to be accepted as another. In all honesty, she gives up on her girlish nature because she’s worried about what’s considered “acceptable.” Yes, she is a queen of a larger and powerful nation. But she also has a daughter who is bound to follow a different path than she.
Could you imagine if Kate Middleton tried to walk down the same exact path and Princess Diana or Queen Elizabeth herself? My mind can’t even handle thinking about it. Yes, Kate Middleton entered the role of Duchess very gracefully and with much dignity, despite a few minor mishaps and scandals along the way. But even she had her “wild” days. Umm…the infamous see-through dress that she modeled in her friend’s fashion show where Prince William supposedly leaned over to his friend and whispered, “Kate is really hot.”
Or something like that.
Regardless, I don’t think our current Duchess of Cambridge gave up that daring and sassy side of her life once William became interested in her, and if she did, I may lose a tiny bit of respect for her.
Going back to Brave, the mother does come to realize it’s okay for girlish tendencies to be held onto. They make us who we are. If I went home and didn’t jump around on the round hay bales like I’ve done for 15+ years of my life, my family might think I’m insane. If I still didnt’ run around in my High School Musical t-shirt when it came time for me to put my pajamas on, they’d wonder if I hit my head on something and if brain damage of a result, even with the shirt now being a touch too small and with it showing off my bellybutton.
Just the other weekend, I came running down the stairs for coffee with my sisters before getting ready for the day, and I came downstairs in little booty shorts and a tight baseball tee. Hey, when I’m asleep, I like knowing if I have to jump out of bed I have clothes on without fear of them getting caught on anything as I dash out the door! (It’s a Jedi thing.) But, my oldest sister, who is 11 years ahead of me in life, looks at me and instantly says, “Go put some clothes on!”
I just laughed at her and said, “If I’ve got the body now, I’m going to show if off while I got it.”
The point is, I really hope I can hold on to this attitude. Not an attitude of carelessness, but of one that bares the air of “I don’t give a F*ck what you think of me.” Yes, it is easier said than done, but if I can hold on to that as I enter the older decades of my life, what a wise Jedi I am determined to become.
As always, it is Friday! Hallelujah and not a day too late! Although I don’t have a forseeable day off in sight, I am ready to have a few lax days to just get to be me for a while. I have big Saturday night plans….with myself. Sharing my Fabulous Friday’s with out is one of the ways I like to hold on to my younger self, while at the same time, starting to meld it with the maturing adult I hope I’m becoming. There are moments that call for a certain level of maturity. This is something I understand.
But there are also moments where you should be so blown out of proportion silly that no one can look at you straight without seriously considering how much alcohol you’ve consumed (PS – The big secret? You haven’t had a single drop!)
Here’s my Fabulous Friday —
Fabulous Midsummer Material:
Fabulous Summer Polish Shade:
Fabulous Start to the Morning:
Fabulous Reason for an Iphone:
Fabulous Accessory Every Girl Needs:
Fabulous Turn On:
Fabulous Crush to Share with your Mom:
Hope you don’t get too crazily out of control this evening, and remember, no one likes to see you running around with your pants off. Unless you’re at the lake. Then, by all means, if you’re taking your pants off, at least jump in the water.
Keep that inner girl fighting alive in everything you do. Mine always thought she was a Jedi, a warrior of sorts. Now it’s up to me to discover what I’m fighting for.
For the first time in my dating history, I walked through my door, set my purse down on my bedroom floor, sat down on my bed, and just sat. I didn’t have a ridiculous grin on my face. I didn’t have butterflies ransacking my stomach. Instead, I grabbed my planner to check the time I’m scheduled to work tomorrow morning, and proceeded to my kitchen to grab a glass of water.
I’ve been really thirsty all night long for some reason. Dehydration, probably.
On top of that, I just want to pull my contacts out of my eyes and settle into the couch for a few episodes of The Office (a new season has been put on Netflix so I can catch up on another new season and get my Dwight fix.)
What is wrong with me? I should be jumping out of my skin with this one. It’s not that it was a horrible date. In fact, it was a really great date. We were out and about several beaches with his dog. I can’t tell you how much I love and miss my dog. Leaving my dog behind once again when I left home this past weekend broke a small piece of my heart, like it always does.
Since my last dog, I’m reminded that every time I leave home, I might not come home to my dog again. Rest in peace Titan. I miss you so much, buddy. Even when you chewed on my barn rubbers if I forgot to put them up on the porch railing over night. I still miss you, my sweet little puppy.
I got to be outdoors. I got to jump from rock to rock on the shore like I was a crazy woman, like I was a kid playing on the rock pile. Skipping rocks, playing fetch with his dog, and sitting with my feet dangling in the cool water while talking to my date. It was gorgeous out, and I had a cute guy sitting next to me.
Then, we kept driving up the shoreline because there were a few places he wanted to show me because I had mentioned on previous dates I had never been to these places. So, basically a mini road trip.
After that, we didn’t turn off on the road we should have to return to his place. Instead, we kept going straight and I asked him what we were doing. We were going to pick up pizza from his favorite pizza place in town.
What more could I ask for?
It continued to be a pretty wonderful afternoon while we watched Family Guy, Wipe-Out, and talked about new movies coming out we both really want to see. Savages, Brave, The Dark Knight Rises, and a whole handful of others. It really was a sweet afternoon, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Then, why when I come home from said date, do I sit down on my bed and wonder why I feel like nothing happened between us? Like, there was no spark or something? He did kiss me good night, and we have tentative plans for tomorrow evening/this weekend…so it went well. Right?
Then, why do I feel this way?
I’ve been finding myself in a funk a lot as the week has progressed. It may be a small depression after my party-throwing this past weekend. I was looking forward to the Bachelorette Party for so long, now that it’s over, I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. My main duties as the Maid of Honor are half over. A huge part of it is throwing these two parties for the bride. Until the big Game Day, I simply help her with whatever preparations she needs help with. Then, on the wedding day itself, I sort of run the show and make sure everything behind the scenes is running smoothly so the bride and groom don’t have to worry about anything but getting their vows right.
“The last hundred years of my life have been filled with new things.”
It doesn’t take a genius to know I’m not 100 years old, or ever over 100 years of age. But, in the years I have been blessed to walk on this earth and to have lived through the experiences I have experienced, it’s a beautiful thing. Lillian Postman, a woman checking in at 108 years old, probably knows a thing or two about life that I would love to hear.
I wonder if she was married…
With dating and life eternal with that one special someone locked in my brain at this moment while watching The Office, I am reminded how freaking cute Pam and Jim are on this show. Why can’t I have a romance story like that? Why can’t I find a Big Girl Job, meet the coworker who will become my best friend and confidante, let alone the love of my life, go through a big messy ordeal, then finally have him propose to me so we’ll live happily ever after in our suburban home with our 3 kids, our Mini Cooper, our dog, and a small screened in porch where we have brunch every Saturday and Sunday morning (where he does the cooking and I have the time off away from the kitchen.)
Why can’t I have that? Perhaps I will in my future, but since I don’t know if I will ever have that. I’ll beat myself to the ground wondering.
I do. More often than I would care to admit.
I need to find myself a hobby. One that requires discipline and focus. Maybe I should take up meditating in one of the places I was introduced to this evening, and really take my study of the Jedi arts far more seriously than I have been thus far. It’s one of those things where some days it’s pretty hard-core, and others I forget to think a Jedi-ist thought.
I’m in a funk, people. I need to find my way out of this.
Is it possible to have a sort-of out-there career and totally make a living doing it?
It’s a vague question, to be sure. What can be defined as ‘sort-of out-there?’ For starters, someone who Facebooks, Tweets, Tumbles, and Pins all day long. The fact that those are legitimate verbs still gets me every time. How life has changed since the 1990s, and the way we communicate.
Granted, you have to remember, around the time that Bicentennial Man starring Robin Williams came out, everyone was convinced we’d all have robots acting as servants in our homes by the 2010 years. Guess what? It’s 2012, and the closest thing I have resembling a robot servant, or helper, however you want to phrase it, is a Roomba. Honestly, I don’t even own one. A Roomba is the closest thing I have to that, if I were to purchase one. And if I did….I would put a picture of Tom Cruise on it.
Then, I could honestly say, I have Tom Cruise vacuuming my house at this very moment. How does Scientology feel about that?
Back on track here. Is it possible to sit in an semi-fancy office, or at my desk at home, and get paid to work every social media outlet I can possibly think of, and get paid mega-bucks to do it? Probably if I’m good at it, and the online marketing brought attention to a product or business. Sure..the sky is the limit, especially if you know how to use and utilize social media sites.
Plus, theses types of sites are thing I use every day of my life to begin with. I’m still leaning myself, but it would be pretty awesome to be paid to write, tweet, pin, and everything in between.
Other bizarre jobs I would love to do and get paid decently for? Travel to exotic resorts and review them. Not just written reviews, but get out there and test the facility. Is their pool really as nice as their website claims? Their spa…just how relaxing is its atmosphere and employees? Will they hack me to death with an olive branch, or will they chatter my ear off when all I want is a simple, blissful back massage? I want to try out the local festivities, and let people know when its a good time to come and see these locales and what to check out when they get there. It’s probably freelance work, and I’m not sure how I feel about freelance yet, which is strange, given my status in the world as an artist and writer.
Let’s remember here…getting paid to travel would be bomb. If I get to write while I’m at it, even more so bomb.
What other out there jobs are there…Is it possible to be a professional date? I know they have escorts in Vegas, but that’s not what I’m talking about here. I clean up nice, love going to events, and meeting new people. If someone wants a lady on their arm for a professional event, merely so they don’t have to show up alone, is it possible to serve someone as a ‘professional date?’ However you phrase it, I know it’s going to sound like riding on coat tails to get there and in order to be paid, certain events must transpire at the conclusion of the evening. So NOT what I’m referring to here.
If I wanted to work as an escort, I’d move to Vegas, buy half a dozen dresses that barely cover my derriere in bright, bold colors, 5 inch platform stilettos, and I’d be on my way.
I tend to be classier than that, like, always.
One occupation that I know is real , it’s just a matter of getting the job…being a Jedi Knight at Hollywood Studios in Orlando, Florida. A friend recently shared a video of me where they perform ‘Jedi Training Classes’ at random times throughout the day within the theme park, and there are 5-6 people walking around decked out in Jedi attire, and they teach kids how to fight with the lightsabers. Nothing too difficult, as they are Younglings and growing in their skill sets. But, to host these training courses, sign me up! I have great public speaking capabilities and a vast knowledge of the Force. I’m not too bad with a lightsaber, either. Hollywood Studios, I’m ready for my close up!
What else…Professional food taster will always rank high on the list of ‘If this were a real job, I would totally be harassing the HR department for a job.’ Who wouldn’t want to sit and taste dish after dish, and then give your opinion on it?
Along with that, movie reviewer. See, there’s a problem with this one since technology the way it is allows anybody who has an opinion to give it to you, be it about film, a book, a recipe, or a news bit they saw on Good Morning America. Look what I’m doing right now…giving you my opinion and thoughts on jobs I’d love to work, if they existed. (I’m pretty sure some of them do! Now…how to secure them and list myself as ’employed’ under a company banner?)
One area of life I’d love to delve and be paid for…are you ready for this? If you said Star Wars, yes you would be right. However, that’s not what I’m getting at here. I love astrology, horoscopes, the zodiacs and their specific characteristics…I love it all. So, is it possible to be paid to monitor people, observe them, and help them in life according to their zodiac? Much like a career counselor and using MBTI codes to help them in their career paths, except this would be for a whole lifestyle observation, but all according to their zodiac.
If so, can I please sign up for further courses, and learn how to help people with their natural selection as a Crab or Bull?
“I despise men profoundly and from conviction.”
Your words speak to me in a different way than their intention, I’m thinking, Marie Bashkirtieff, a short-lived Russian bluestocking.
When she says ‘I despise men,’ I see “men” as “the man.” “The Man” is always holding us down, telling us that we indeed cannot do what it is we seek to do, that we are unqualified and incapable of things within our own powers and beyond. “The Man” keeps us close to the ground when we should be soaring among the eagles (Happy Monday inspiration everyone!)
I, like Marie Bashkirtieff, despise “the man” and it’s a battle I’m not letting up on anytime soon. If I want to train young children visiting Hollywood Studios how to fight with a lightsaber (albeit they’re plastic, but still good nonetheless!), I will find a way to do so.
Happy Monday, indeed!