I must say my journey to Colorado Springs from San Diego been an adventurous one. I lost my single life, my friends, my coworkers, my comfort zones, my independence, my beach, and my grandmother within a matter of a week. There is a saying: "It takes both sunshine and rain to make a rainbow." If you look hard enough and beyond the clouds, the sunshine is still there, even in the midst of a storm.
I knew that bringing a child into this world without the comfort and normalcy of marriage, or even a father around, would be tough. However, I gave up the all-access pass to singledom willingly and without a second thought, tough as I know it will be. I believe the joy of becoming a mother far outweighs all the sacrifices.
I also knew that since my parents were moving, I would need to accompany them unless my insane desire to remain independent overruled my desire to do the best I could raising the little man. I would still, however, have been forced to move somewhere else less expensive which would also cause me to have to give up a lot of my friends. I knew it would be sad, but Kieran deserves to have the best I can do for him. I still miss my friends from all areas of the country and know that none can be replaced.
I knew that transferring to a new office meant a shift of comfortable work environments with new co-workers and a forced "chipper" personality everyday until I get comfortable. I knew it meant new lunch buddies, new uncomfortable conversations, and new clients. However, I have the opportunity to embrace new challenges and prove myself.
I knew that leaving a home full of great friends and the city I have lived in for 5 years to move in with my parents would force me out of my comfort zones. I don't know the area, the city, or anyone yet. So, I purchased navigation on my phone. Besides, my only comfortable zones are living and knowing that things change every day.
I knew living with my parents would force me to give up a significant amount of independence (ie- where things go in the kitchen is a trip to the polls where my vote doesn't count). But financially I have the opportunity to get on my feet and live as though I am not on permanent vacation.
I knew Colorado was full of mountains, and hours from the beach. The beach I always dreamed of living near, and had for 5 long years. There is, however, a serenity and peacefulness unmatched by any of the cities I have lived in. It's a new adventure.
But grey faded to black and the storm took over when I lost my grandmother, my nana this week. I did not know that it is nearly impossible to understand the depth of love I had for her until I lost her. I did not know how hard it would be to see her writhing in pain, suffering from an aneurysm. I did not know that the night I couldn't sit with her in the ER because I couldn't bear to see her in pain was the last I would ever see her. I did not know how hard it would be to say goodbye.
She was, an amazing woman, full of quirks and weird idiosynchracies (different from my own, yet what made her wonderful). The stress, sadness, and overwhelming shock of losing her to aneurysm and stroke is most definitely something I was not prepared for, especially while pregnant. I had optimistic hopes (despite the doctor's warning that without surgery on her artery she would pass soon) that she would be here for Kieran's birth. I had optimistic hopes that I would see her next Christmas. She had bought me this goofy soccer ball basket for my upcoming birthday to throw goodies in. I didn't know she wouldn't be here for it.
It is only by God's grace that I am able to part the clouds and allow the sunshine in on the rain. She lived to be 79 (almost 80) and I have known her as an adult (more than I was able to know my father or my grandfather). The doctor inferred that had we not brought her on this trip with us, she likely would have had the aneurysm in her stomach with the stroke and then bled to death until someone found her, a far more painful scenario than our ability to rush her to the ER. Even if the ER was 300 miles from our new destination where we still did not have a house.
We had the entire weekend with her, and on the 8 hour drive she told me stories I had never heard before. We shared conversation, dinners, and her last moments. Although I am beyond sad to see her go, when she went to heaven she opened her eyes and looked straight up as if she saw angels coming to get her. She gracefully left this world in the presence of my family. She will be sorely missed every day for the rest of my life and yet I am jealous. I know she is able to walk without her walker, sing like an angel, and reunite with my grandfather after 18 years. She is now living where the sunshine I need to break through my cloudy days never has disappeared and every time I see it I will remember her.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Hell and afterlife
Hell. Afterlife. Heaven. Do any of them exist?
I am a Christian, and have been so for many years. Even in Christian circles there is strong debate as to whether hell exists, and if it does what exactly goes on there.
It is my belief that hell exists, and is a place of torment and suffering, with degrees of the aforementioned varying based on the life you lived on earth. I believe in demons and angels.
My attempt with this blog, is to discuss what the rest of the world believes about hell. I have just finished reading the book 23 Minutes in Hell, about a man who believes God took him to hell in order to tell the rest of the world how awful it is. Whether or not this man is telling the truth, it made me think that if hell is anything near as awful as his description, I should not want that anyone go there. Nor would I want to be responsible for not bringing to the attention of the rest of the world that this place exists and one can choose not to go.
My intention is not to force you into believing anything, but perhaps open some eyes/ears to the subject and get others thinking as this book did for me. I also know that if someone else believed that I couldn't get to heaven, or even avoid hell, if I didn't wear a purple neclace or jump up and down twenty times a day, I might not believe them, but I'd want to know. I'd want to think about it.
Here's what I want to discuss:
1) Do you believe hell exists?
2) If so, what do you believe happens there?
3) Do you believe you are going to heaven/hell/somewhere else after life?
We will keep discussing such things as children in hell, what demons are like, and more, should anyone wish to participate. I am honestly trying to learn more about the subject as well as discuss the topic. Although I always keep an open mind, I can tell you I will not change my beliefs as far as how to avoid hell or whether it exists, but am interested in discussing others' views and also discussing what hell is actually like (for those who believe it does exist).
I will likely comment once daily, so you can keep checking for updates to continue the discussion if you'd like =)
I am a Christian, and have been so for many years. Even in Christian circles there is strong debate as to whether hell exists, and if it does what exactly goes on there.
It is my belief that hell exists, and is a place of torment and suffering, with degrees of the aforementioned varying based on the life you lived on earth. I believe in demons and angels.
My attempt with this blog, is to discuss what the rest of the world believes about hell. I have just finished reading the book 23 Minutes in Hell, about a man who believes God took him to hell in order to tell the rest of the world how awful it is. Whether or not this man is telling the truth, it made me think that if hell is anything near as awful as his description, I should not want that anyone go there. Nor would I want to be responsible for not bringing to the attention of the rest of the world that this place exists and one can choose not to go.
My intention is not to force you into believing anything, but perhaps open some eyes/ears to the subject and get others thinking as this book did for me. I also know that if someone else believed that I couldn't get to heaven, or even avoid hell, if I didn't wear a purple neclace or jump up and down twenty times a day, I might not believe them, but I'd want to know. I'd want to think about it.
Here's what I want to discuss:
1) Do you believe hell exists?
2) If so, what do you believe happens there?
3) Do you believe you are going to heaven/hell/somewhere else after life?
We will keep discussing such things as children in hell, what demons are like, and more, should anyone wish to participate. I am honestly trying to learn more about the subject as well as discuss the topic. Although I always keep an open mind, I can tell you I will not change my beliefs as far as how to avoid hell or whether it exists, but am interested in discussing others' views and also discussing what hell is actually like (for those who believe it does exist).
I will likely comment once daily, so you can keep checking for updates to continue the discussion if you'd like =)
My first quasi-regret
Most of you know my philosophy on regret: I don't believe in it. I feel that I have learned from all of my actions whether they were right or wrong, positive or negative. My theory is that I wouldn't want to look back on a decision I made and wonder "what if". So instead, I just do it. Whatever the "question" is, I pick an answer.
Being virtually friendless (my friends are always there, but they are not here) in Colorado has allowed me ample time for self-reflection, realization, and of course, discovery. The reflection portion of that has left me thinking about all the friends I've had in my lifetime, many of whom I've regained touch with via myspace. Many of my existing friends I stay in touch with mostly via myspace.
Here's my regret: it took myspace to bring me back to them, and realize all the amazing people I've lost in my life. I have some friends that I spent every day with or every weekend with for a few years straight, and somehow they simply fell by the wayside.
I cannot say that any particular action caused these separations (at least not to my recollection), however, I find my fault in not pushing harder to keep them in my life. People are amazing, wonderful creatures. Each with a different mind, personality, and style. I have to admit that I regret the lost years I spent partying so much that I cared less to keep good relationships open, and more on where the action was. I wanderlustfully followed my desires of the moment and forgot to hold onto what mattered: the people. I lost friends over boys or relationships that lasted as long as a mento.
I was young, and I know that I have experienced a lot in the past 10 years. I can't even be entirely sure that I regret succumbing to wanderlust because I may not appreciate those people that I've become reacquainted with if I hadn't. I must say, however, that I will work harder now to value the relationships and friends I have and worry less about the glitterazi of life.
And to all my friends,
I love you guys!
Being virtually friendless (my friends are always there, but they are not here) in Colorado has allowed me ample time for self-reflection, realization, and of course, discovery. The reflection portion of that has left me thinking about all the friends I've had in my lifetime, many of whom I've regained touch with via myspace. Many of my existing friends I stay in touch with mostly via myspace.
Here's my regret: it took myspace to bring me back to them, and realize all the amazing people I've lost in my life. I have some friends that I spent every day with or every weekend with for a few years straight, and somehow they simply fell by the wayside.
I cannot say that any particular action caused these separations (at least not to my recollection), however, I find my fault in not pushing harder to keep them in my life. People are amazing, wonderful creatures. Each with a different mind, personality, and style. I have to admit that I regret the lost years I spent partying so much that I cared less to keep good relationships open, and more on where the action was. I wanderlustfully followed my desires of the moment and forgot to hold onto what mattered: the people. I lost friends over boys or relationships that lasted as long as a mento.
I was young, and I know that I have experienced a lot in the past 10 years. I can't even be entirely sure that I regret succumbing to wanderlust because I may not appreciate those people that I've become reacquainted with if I hadn't. I must say, however, that I will work harder now to value the relationships and friends I have and worry less about the glitterazi of life.
And to all my friends,
I love you guys!
To be or not to be, that is the question
"And what do you want to be when you grow up?"
How many times during our duration as a child and dreamer do we face this question? And how often do we reply "tax accountant" or "salesperson" or "whatever it takes to pay my bills and feed my family"?
Life is simple when you are a child (in most circumstances; I won't pretend that there aren't cases of child abuse, molestation, etc. that taint it). You play, you dream, you skip, you run. There are no bills, fears, or unknowns, per se. You trusted everyone.
When I was younger, I was fascinated with magic. Particularly, I used to put on magic shows. I felt as though I had some wisdom that I could use to "dupe" my crowd. I liked feeling in control, and amazing other people. I was always intrigued by the Bermuda Triangle story, and I loved seeing illusionists. I read a lot, and actively used my imagination.
Now, I am older. Young at heart, but older. Life has since taken my innocence, imagination, trust, and fascinations and run off with them. I sometimes feel like they've been stolen from me and all I'm left with is the day to day. No sense in dreaming; it won't come true. Knowledge has tarnished my innocence. Imagination is no longer sweet when tainted by bitter realities. Fascination is curiosity without the time to indulge and learn.
That is not to say that I do not have anything in my adult life that I cherish or love. There are escapes from reality that sometimes offer a dream or a chance to imagine, but they are so few and far between.
I wonder, what do I want to be? If anything at all? Is there a way to escape the daily routine...is there a lemonade stand on the beach with an endless supply of books, adventures and pleasures?
Why the hell am I pouring out my thoughts, typing them faster than I can collectively figure them out? Because I like to contemplate the "whys" of life. Why do we have to grow up? Why must I be forced to pay taxes and bills while bored to death with political subjects with which I alone cannot change, and care not to dedicate my life to?
There are Hallmark cards and after-school specials that tell us to dream, yet we have no camera crew to airbrush our faces and cut out the scenes we don't like.
I wish I still had the "secret" to the magic. Instead, I'm in the crowd of life, being duped by another illusionist, led to believe that there is something grander to existence than survival, with an occasional "pick me up" to keep us going.
How many times during our duration as a child and dreamer do we face this question? And how often do we reply "tax accountant" or "salesperson" or "whatever it takes to pay my bills and feed my family"?
Life is simple when you are a child (in most circumstances; I won't pretend that there aren't cases of child abuse, molestation, etc. that taint it). You play, you dream, you skip, you run. There are no bills, fears, or unknowns, per se. You trusted everyone.
When I was younger, I was fascinated with magic. Particularly, I used to put on magic shows. I felt as though I had some wisdom that I could use to "dupe" my crowd. I liked feeling in control, and amazing other people. I was always intrigued by the Bermuda Triangle story, and I loved seeing illusionists. I read a lot, and actively used my imagination.
Now, I am older. Young at heart, but older. Life has since taken my innocence, imagination, trust, and fascinations and run off with them. I sometimes feel like they've been stolen from me and all I'm left with is the day to day. No sense in dreaming; it won't come true. Knowledge has tarnished my innocence. Imagination is no longer sweet when tainted by bitter realities. Fascination is curiosity without the time to indulge and learn.
That is not to say that I do not have anything in my adult life that I cherish or love. There are escapes from reality that sometimes offer a dream or a chance to imagine, but they are so few and far between.
I wonder, what do I want to be? If anything at all? Is there a way to escape the daily routine...is there a lemonade stand on the beach with an endless supply of books, adventures and pleasures?
Why the hell am I pouring out my thoughts, typing them faster than I can collectively figure them out? Because I like to contemplate the "whys" of life. Why do we have to grow up? Why must I be forced to pay taxes and bills while bored to death with political subjects with which I alone cannot change, and care not to dedicate my life to?
There are Hallmark cards and after-school specials that tell us to dream, yet we have no camera crew to airbrush our faces and cut out the scenes we don't like.
I wish I still had the "secret" to the magic. Instead, I'm in the crowd of life, being duped by another illusionist, led to believe that there is something grander to existence than survival, with an occasional "pick me up" to keep us going.
Very deep things
I just felt like blogging about a few of life's little things that amuse me:
1) Commercials with jingles so lame the advertising actually works. Last night I laid down in a futile attempt to sleep (comfortably), and turned on my local FOX channel to watch "Sex in the City" reruns. A commercial for a law firm that handles insurance claims proceeded to play, and 15 seconds in sang a song "Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe; experienced and affordable". (I'm ad libbing a little). Anyway, it was awful. I mean, the off-key singer was not the worst part. But I did remember the commercial. Too bad I can't remember the law firm name. That would be effective advertising.
2) Random acts of television changing. We have a free trial subscription to HBO, Showtime, and Cinemax. Sometimes I will watch a movie on one of these channels. I also listen to the XM Radio Stations from time to time. Or turn on a local cable channel before I fall asleep. For some reason the satellite dish randomly reverts in the middle of the night to the channel that I was last watching. A couple of times I have woken up to the XM radio channel instead of infomercials. No big deal.
This becomes interesting to me however, because last night I started watching a movie on Cinemax and then decided I should try and sleep. So I switched to infomercials because they do not interest me enough to keep my attention. In the middle of the night I awoke feeling sweaty and wondering how it was that I had just dreamt about sex in such vivid detail. The downside was that I wasn't even having sex in this dream; other people were. I looked up at the TV, and wouldn't you know, Cinemax (Skinemax past 1 AM apparently) had come back on, and there was soft PORN on my TV! At least I learned the cause of my dream, but imagine if my parents (yes, I now live with my parents) had come downstairs in the middle of the night and heard PORN coming from their illegitimately pregnant daughter's room. How much of a nymph would I look like? Not to mention the thought is just disgusting. I prefer to think that no one in our house is having sex, because the world is just a better place that way. I'm going to have to fix the satellite box.
3) Animals dressed as humans. No further comment necessary.
1) Commercials with jingles so lame the advertising actually works. Last night I laid down in a futile attempt to sleep (comfortably), and turned on my local FOX channel to watch "Sex in the City" reruns. A commercial for a law firm that handles insurance claims proceeded to play, and 15 seconds in sang a song "Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe; experienced and affordable". (I'm ad libbing a little). Anyway, it was awful. I mean, the off-key singer was not the worst part. But I did remember the commercial. Too bad I can't remember the law firm name. That would be effective advertising.
2) Random acts of television changing. We have a free trial subscription to HBO, Showtime, and Cinemax. Sometimes I will watch a movie on one of these channels. I also listen to the XM Radio Stations from time to time. Or turn on a local cable channel before I fall asleep. For some reason the satellite dish randomly reverts in the middle of the night to the channel that I was last watching. A couple of times I have woken up to the XM radio channel instead of infomercials. No big deal.
This becomes interesting to me however, because last night I started watching a movie on Cinemax and then decided I should try and sleep. So I switched to infomercials because they do not interest me enough to keep my attention. In the middle of the night I awoke feeling sweaty and wondering how it was that I had just dreamt about sex in such vivid detail. The downside was that I wasn't even having sex in this dream; other people were. I looked up at the TV, and wouldn't you know, Cinemax (Skinemax past 1 AM apparently) had come back on, and there was soft PORN on my TV! At least I learned the cause of my dream, but imagine if my parents (yes, I now live with my parents) had come downstairs in the middle of the night and heard PORN coming from their illegitimately pregnant daughter's room. How much of a nymph would I look like? Not to mention the thought is just disgusting. I prefer to think that no one in our house is having sex, because the world is just a better place that way. I'm going to have to fix the satellite box.
3) Animals dressed as humans. No further comment necessary.
To the elitists of the world
It seems I am finding an ever growing number of elitists in the world. And not just the rich megalomaniacs, either. Everyone has their soap box and stand on it they do. Not that it is necessarily a bad thing to voice your opinion or share your thoughts. It is when judgment comes into the picture that I get annoyed. Skinny people judge the fat ones, rich judge the poor, pretty people the less attractive, shoe lovers the ones who wear flip flops, beach bums the mountain cowboys. Why?
In the words of Biggie: "Fuck the world don't ask me for shit- everything you get you got(s) to work hard for it". Simply because one person might NOT work hard for it, someone did. Those who came to America worked hard for the opportunities we are blessed with (and sometimes cursed with) today. The Africans who fought against slavery and segregation, the women who burned their bras for equality, the garage bands who didn't make it but paved the way for those who did, the ancestors who sacrificed their life for their family's trust funds & estates, the corporate blue collars who worked to bring up the value of your stock.
So I ask, where does anyone get the idea that they are better than someone else? More fortunate, sure. I may have made some mistakes and misjudgments in my time, but everyone must grow up at some point. Who cares if someone else wears patchouli oil? Who cares if someone is happy living in a trailer? Who cares if someone else actually likes Nascar? Does that make them less of a person; less of a human being?
These were all questions I pondered; thoughts I mused. I have come to the conclusion that I still have my soap boxes. I hate (seriously) hate our welfare system, which in turn causes me to judge its recipients. But it's not their fault; it's our broken system. A little reform and the people might learn responsibility and the value of a dollar. Knowledge is power, and unfortunately not everyone has it, or the capability of retaining it.
I think that is all I care to say for now, but maybe I will comment more later (after I at least get back to the hell blog). Patchy I know, but it's Friday and I want to go home. Happy Friday =)
In the words of Biggie: "Fuck the world don't ask me for shit- everything you get you got(s) to work hard for it". Simply because one person might NOT work hard for it, someone did. Those who came to America worked hard for the opportunities we are blessed with (and sometimes cursed with) today. The Africans who fought against slavery and segregation, the women who burned their bras for equality, the garage bands who didn't make it but paved the way for those who did, the ancestors who sacrificed their life for their family's trust funds & estates, the corporate blue collars who worked to bring up the value of your stock.
So I ask, where does anyone get the idea that they are better than someone else? More fortunate, sure. I may have made some mistakes and misjudgments in my time, but everyone must grow up at some point. Who cares if someone else wears patchouli oil? Who cares if someone is happy living in a trailer? Who cares if someone else actually likes Nascar? Does that make them less of a person; less of a human being?
These were all questions I pondered; thoughts I mused. I have come to the conclusion that I still have my soap boxes. I hate (seriously) hate our welfare system, which in turn causes me to judge its recipients. But it's not their fault; it's our broken system. A little reform and the people might learn responsibility and the value of a dollar. Knowledge is power, and unfortunately not everyone has it, or the capability of retaining it.
I think that is all I care to say for now, but maybe I will comment more later (after I at least get back to the hell blog). Patchy I know, but it's Friday and I want to go home. Happy Friday =)
Witless and informative
To say the least, the past few weeks have been eventful and uneventful all at the same time. On that note, my closest friends, who are the only people eligible to read this blog, wonder if I am alive.
It is true: I live. It’s the typical busy season wrap up....16 days to go, and I’m definitely counting them down. On that note, to catch you up since I have not been able to respond to much of anything that didn’t come from the IRS, here’s what’s going on in my life.
I took a trip back to California for my bromo’s 21st birthday. It was a blast. I realized how much I miss my friends and family but also how much my life has changed in only a year, and how much I truly love my son.
My parents shortly thereafter decided we are moving back. So California, here we come (again). I do not intend to leave again, and rather plan to move back into a place of my own with my babers.
The baby’s father finally decided to be a part of his life. I doubt that he’ll be a huge part of his life, but he at least came to see him. It turned out to be the week I was in CA, but it took balls to come here and see the baby with only my parents here.
I met a boy. I meet plenty of boys, but I actually met someone who under different circumstances would last longer than a mento. Cute, insanely intelligent, witty, funny, from good family, actually has morals, makes good money, and loves music. What more could I ask for? Oh, maybe that we don’t work together and that I wasn’t moving back to SD. Granted, I want to come back, but I really hate the fact that the first super cool guy I’ve met in a while is going to be forever away. Plus, we totally made out this weekend ;)
C’est la vie.
Hope all is well in your corners of the world--love and miss you all~!
It is true: I live. It’s the typical busy season wrap up....16 days to go, and I’m definitely counting them down. On that note, to catch you up since I have not been able to respond to much of anything that didn’t come from the IRS, here’s what’s going on in my life.
I took a trip back to California for my bromo’s 21st birthday. It was a blast. I realized how much I miss my friends and family but also how much my life has changed in only a year, and how much I truly love my son.
My parents shortly thereafter decided we are moving back. So California, here we come (again). I do not intend to leave again, and rather plan to move back into a place of my own with my babers.
The baby’s father finally decided to be a part of his life. I doubt that he’ll be a huge part of his life, but he at least came to see him. It turned out to be the week I was in CA, but it took balls to come here and see the baby with only my parents here.
I met a boy. I meet plenty of boys, but I actually met someone who under different circumstances would last longer than a mento. Cute, insanely intelligent, witty, funny, from good family, actually has morals, makes good money, and loves music. What more could I ask for? Oh, maybe that we don’t work together and that I wasn’t moving back to SD. Granted, I want to come back, but I really hate the fact that the first super cool guy I’ve met in a while is going to be forever away. Plus, we totally made out this weekend ;)
C’est la vie.
Hope all is well in your corners of the world--love and miss you all~!
Power Couple
There is something about real estate couples that annoys me. Maybe it is the idea that your identity is in your "power couple" status. Together, we can do anything. Alone, we are a waste of space.
Is it the codependency? Why do couples tag team real estate and assume that the rest of the world is more confident that "they" will be better than one realtor. I can't stand realtors in general; most of them are pushy, arrogant thieves. (My apologies to anyone who is a realtor and is not pushy and arrogant). Why would I want two coked up jackasses trying to sell me a place?
Here's what I assume is the reality and why it annoys the shit out of me. Duality. Double vain, double dressed, double BMWs. Now if two realtors fall in love and want to work for the same company or even start their own, that is different than identifying yourself as Barbie & Ken,: the prom king and queen of realty sales. Can you not handle selling homes alone? Do you have sex in the bedrooms when no one is around? What is the deal with this type of relationship? Do you need someone to stroke your ego all the time? Does rejection become easier when there are two of you to absorb it? I personally, could not be a clone of my other "half" for the rest of my life.
Maybe that's why I'm still single.
Is it the codependency? Why do couples tag team real estate and assume that the rest of the world is more confident that "they" will be better than one realtor. I can't stand realtors in general; most of them are pushy, arrogant thieves. (My apologies to anyone who is a realtor and is not pushy and arrogant). Why would I want two coked up jackasses trying to sell me a place?
Here's what I assume is the reality and why it annoys the shit out of me. Duality. Double vain, double dressed, double BMWs. Now if two realtors fall in love and want to work for the same company or even start their own, that is different than identifying yourself as Barbie & Ken,: the prom king and queen of realty sales. Can you not handle selling homes alone? Do you have sex in the bedrooms when no one is around? What is the deal with this type of relationship? Do you need someone to stroke your ego all the time? Does rejection become easier when there are two of you to absorb it? I personally, could not be a clone of my other "half" for the rest of my life.
Maybe that's why I'm still single.
Cosmopolitan and the single lady
I received the 40th anniversary edition of Cosmopolitan magazine today...and I realized that it is the same sex advice I started reading years ago.......but what struck me as strange, is that it seems like women are pushed by the media and these magazines to cater to "What Men Really Want"......I always thought that was good sex and a woman who can cook (I've mastered the first.....still working on the second).....
So I wonder, why are we bending over backwards to keep them around??? Are we really not worth anything anymore? We are no longer respected or treated like princesses.....we are treated like the Coors Light twins...fun to look at and fantasize about.....and if a guy is lucky maybe he'll score......?
I went to a bar last night where a man thought it appropriate to grab my ass to move me so he could get by. He got my attention, but not in the way he wanted....
When did you fuckers start thinking that women are just your tools.....you can grab us and grind on us and hit on us when you feel like it??? Did you ever think that aside from the skansters that we didn't come out to get laid??? Note to yourselves.......we don't want to dance with your desperate ass! If we didn't look at you and smile, it pretty much means we aren't interested. Lately it seems we don't even have to be interested...you just come on over with your cheesy ass lines.
So in response to my reading and my shitty bar experience, I'd like to set some things straight:
We are tired, but of your shitty lines, not from running through your head all day.
Your friend doesn't like me- you do- grow a set and ask me out yourself!
I don't come here often, but if I did, what the hell would it matter? Are you going to stalk me now?
I am doing great..........asking me how I am doing doesn't get anything but an answer....
Standing in my way when I am trying to get by is not going to get you a breast rub on your back..............I'm just going to push you away......
and last but not least.....coming up behind me to dance uninvited is just proving that YOU CAN'T DANCE!!!!!!!! GIVE IT UP!!!!!
I guess this is why I am not often out and about or single.......grrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhh
So I wonder, why are we bending over backwards to keep them around??? Are we really not worth anything anymore? We are no longer respected or treated like princesses.....we are treated like the Coors Light twins...fun to look at and fantasize about.....and if a guy is lucky maybe he'll score......?
I went to a bar last night where a man thought it appropriate to grab my ass to move me so he could get by. He got my attention, but not in the way he wanted....
When did you fuckers start thinking that women are just your tools.....you can grab us and grind on us and hit on us when you feel like it??? Did you ever think that aside from the skansters that we didn't come out to get laid??? Note to yourselves.......we don't want to dance with your desperate ass! If we didn't look at you and smile, it pretty much means we aren't interested. Lately it seems we don't even have to be interested...you just come on over with your cheesy ass lines.
So in response to my reading and my shitty bar experience, I'd like to set some things straight:
We are tired, but of your shitty lines, not from running through your head all day.
Your friend doesn't like me- you do- grow a set and ask me out yourself!
I don't come here often, but if I did, what the hell would it matter? Are you going to stalk me now?
I am doing great..........asking me how I am doing doesn't get anything but an answer....
Standing in my way when I am trying to get by is not going to get you a breast rub on your back..............I'm just going to push you away......
and last but not least.....coming up behind me to dance uninvited is just proving that YOU CAN'T DANCE!!!!!!!! GIVE IT UP!!!!!
I guess this is why I am not often out and about or single.......grrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhh
B.F.
Brandy Fiske.
There are days when I truly do not understand why the good die young.
Brandy was the sweetest girl, who had recently received a lung transplant. She had been given the gift of life. And then it was taken. The dream was dangled only to be given and taken back.
I know I do not see the master plan. I do not claim to be the master. I do know she is with the master. But I don't understand why, when eternity is forever, God takes earthly life from some so quickly. Granted, Brandy is in a better place. Much better; where she never has to worry about her lungs or cystic fibrosis.
It is those left behind who suffer.
My heart is with my sister, her friends, and family. <3
There are days when I truly do not understand why the good die young.
Brandy was the sweetest girl, who had recently received a lung transplant. She had been given the gift of life. And then it was taken. The dream was dangled only to be given and taken back.
I know I do not see the master plan. I do not claim to be the master. I do know she is with the master. But I don't understand why, when eternity is forever, God takes earthly life from some so quickly. Granted, Brandy is in a better place. Much better; where she never has to worry about her lungs or cystic fibrosis.
It is those left behind who suffer.
My heart is with my sister, her friends, and family. <3
Oh, snap! It's all in the kiss....
What exactly is the *snap* that sends us head over heels in love? I'm not referring to the lustful desire to tie the drummer to a headboard, but rather the desire to stay after I pin him to the headboard.
There has to be some scientific chemistry (not just in the metaphysical sense) that causes our cheeks to flush red at the mention of a name. The slightest skin brush sends shivers up our spines even when it's not Joaquin Phoenix we run into.
I've fallen head over heels. Yes, me. I fall often, but it's rare that I fall this hard. Oddly, if I were to pick out the type of person I would be attracted to based on physical characteristics, he'd be the opposite. Yet somewhere in the doe eyes and soft hands it all fades away. I'm in love and lust all at the same time. I picture all the skinemax scenarios possible at just about any given point in the day and somehow still answer when he asks me how to calculate depreciation.
I'm not sure how it happened. I would say that I liked this boy and was interested. But not quite smitten. And then we started hanging out, going to dinner, texting and talking. We end up going out one night, and I decide to let it slip that I'm interested. And then we're kissing. And OH. MY. GOD. It was amazing. Not sloppy. Not off pattern. Just amazing. And then I was done.
Which is why I've come to the conclusion that it's all in the kiss. In retrospect, I've kissed several men, most of which were pretty great, and all I can think about is this one night, reminiscent of a high schoolmake out session? Every single person I've kissed faded away in that one moment and WHAM! I'm done.
The "thing" is, we can all remember someone we were in puppy love with and then kissed. And it went one of three ways: Terrible and we immediately lost interest. Mediocre, so we gave it another chance and eventually lost interest. Or amazing and we were smitten. Sound familiar?
Granted, you fall in love and (likely) if you're kissing someone new you've fallen out of it. Or it didn't work out for one reason or another. But, oh snap...when you fall again....
There has to be some scientific chemistry (not just in the metaphysical sense) that causes our cheeks to flush red at the mention of a name. The slightest skin brush sends shivers up our spines even when it's not Joaquin Phoenix we run into.
I've fallen head over heels. Yes, me. I fall often, but it's rare that I fall this hard. Oddly, if I were to pick out the type of person I would be attracted to based on physical characteristics, he'd be the opposite. Yet somewhere in the doe eyes and soft hands it all fades away. I'm in love and lust all at the same time. I picture all the skinemax scenarios possible at just about any given point in the day and somehow still answer when he asks me how to calculate depreciation.
I'm not sure how it happened. I would say that I liked this boy and was interested. But not quite smitten. And then we started hanging out, going to dinner, texting and talking. We end up going out one night, and I decide to let it slip that I'm interested. And then we're kissing. And OH. MY. GOD. It was amazing. Not sloppy. Not off pattern. Just amazing. And then I was done.
Which is why I've come to the conclusion that it's all in the kiss. In retrospect, I've kissed several men, most of which were pretty great, and all I can think about is this one night, reminiscent of a high schoolmake out session? Every single person I've kissed faded away in that one moment and WHAM! I'm done.
The "thing" is, we can all remember someone we were in puppy love with and then kissed. And it went one of three ways: Terrible and we immediately lost interest. Mediocre, so we gave it another chance and eventually lost interest. Or amazing and we were smitten. Sound familiar?
Granted, you fall in love and (likely) if you're kissing someone new you've fallen out of it. Or it didn't work out for one reason or another. But, oh snap...when you fall again....
I can ride my bike with no handlebars
So I'm at the airport. The first thing I look for is a bar. Human nature, I suppose. Maybe I'm an alcoholic. Maybe not. My bloody mary has lemon seeds. I hate that.
I like to people watch. I am listening to a girl (woman maybe) talk to a man. She is as loud as I am, but talks more (hard to believe, right)?
I wonder if it's sad that my goal in life is to find someone with whom I can have stellar sex 360 days a year ( I need some holidays). Seriously....or maybe it's that I haven't had sex in over 360 days (unless you count with myself. I'm pretty good ;))
I am being pursued by a married man. Heavily pursued. On one hand, it makes me want to punch the sucker in the face for being an asshole. On the other hand, he's hot, and I really haven't had sex in so long, the idea of a lucid affair which would not lead to anything but sex in empty houses (he's a realtor) during lunch break sounds so tempting I have had many a dream (day and night) about it. Good thing Macie's world is not the real world. Or I'd be slapping my face and calling me a whore.
I can guide a missile by satellite...
I can't pick a candidate for 2008. The presidential position is a funny thing. In fact, Nicole and I were discussing it last night. So I wonder still, why is there so much emphasis on our president when his power is technically limited and Congress does the dirty work? Shouldn't we be paying more attention to our congressman? It is America we live in. No one will tell you to look where it counts.
I am glad to be home in California. My new place (in Hillcrest) is awesome. It's old, but it has character (and a pool!). I will put my finishing touches on it soon, and it will be my home. Finally, a place to call my own (if my own means ruled by toys and cheerios).
I can keep rhythm with no metronome....
My son is a funny kid. Lately, he looks like a hungry hungry hippo. His jowels are fantastic...huge little chipmunk cheeks and two teeth. I love him.
I can make anybody go to prison just because I don't like them.
Does anyone else get a wave of pity when being served by a 65 year old waitress? There is something in my soul that just hurts to see it. I don't know why...maybe there are too many sob stories on Lifetime. Although...the last time I watched lifetime was because Diagnosis Murder was the best thing on. I am definitely not used to being home on a Saturday night.
I can end the planet in a holocaust.
Eat.Pray.Love. I'm reading it, and quite frankly, it's crap. The writer should just move directly into directing movies for the Hallmark channel. Do we really need another self-help novel infecting our shelves with the idea that a guru and the money to travel everywhere you'd like to will solve your problems (and by problems I mean are crazy because you tried to kill yourself over a boy )? Diane Lane: Under the Tuscan Sun come on down! There just might be bigger fish to fry these days.
And there's a scene in the show when the hustler knows he's gonna die. The ground opens and he climbs inside
Is there a hand to take hold of the scene?
No, I haven't lost my mind, but it is in pieces inside my head. I have decided to blog brainstorming style. I'm just writing (typing) and not editing. It's kind of fun.
Damn it. 4 lemon seeds. And only 3 bloody mary's.
Gracing each face that is making the waste that is broken as one's fairly fly.
Ever wonder why there are so many love songs? Because love hurts. (I actually wasn't quoting song lyrics there). That is why I hope not to ever fall in it again. That is not to say I don't hope to be in it.
There you are standing right in front of me…hold me close cause I need you to guide me to safety.
I think it's time to board my flight. I've missed you all (still do, as my best friends are all over the country…)
Thanks for listening to my random (vodka infused) lyrics to my life.
I can ride my bike with no handlebars...no handlebars....
I like to people watch. I am listening to a girl (woman maybe) talk to a man. She is as loud as I am, but talks more (hard to believe, right)?
I wonder if it's sad that my goal in life is to find someone with whom I can have stellar sex 360 days a year ( I need some holidays). Seriously....or maybe it's that I haven't had sex in over 360 days (unless you count with myself. I'm pretty good ;))
I am being pursued by a married man. Heavily pursued. On one hand, it makes me want to punch the sucker in the face for being an asshole. On the other hand, he's hot, and I really haven't had sex in so long, the idea of a lucid affair which would not lead to anything but sex in empty houses (he's a realtor) during lunch break sounds so tempting I have had many a dream (day and night) about it. Good thing Macie's world is not the real world. Or I'd be slapping my face and calling me a whore.
I can guide a missile by satellite...
I can't pick a candidate for 2008. The presidential position is a funny thing. In fact, Nicole and I were discussing it last night. So I wonder still, why is there so much emphasis on our president when his power is technically limited and Congress does the dirty work? Shouldn't we be paying more attention to our congressman? It is America we live in. No one will tell you to look where it counts.
I am glad to be home in California. My new place (in Hillcrest) is awesome. It's old, but it has character (and a pool!). I will put my finishing touches on it soon, and it will be my home. Finally, a place to call my own (if my own means ruled by toys and cheerios).
I can keep rhythm with no metronome....
My son is a funny kid. Lately, he looks like a hungry hungry hippo. His jowels are fantastic...huge little chipmunk cheeks and two teeth. I love him.
I can make anybody go to prison just because I don't like them.
Does anyone else get a wave of pity when being served by a 65 year old waitress? There is something in my soul that just hurts to see it. I don't know why...maybe there are too many sob stories on Lifetime. Although...the last time I watched lifetime was because Diagnosis Murder was the best thing on. I am definitely not used to being home on a Saturday night.
I can end the planet in a holocaust.
Eat.Pray.Love. I'm reading it, and quite frankly, it's crap. The writer should just move directly into directing movies for the Hallmark channel. Do we really need another self-help novel infecting our shelves with the idea that a guru and the money to travel everywhere you'd like to will solve your problems (and by problems I mean are crazy because you tried to kill yourself over a boy )? Diane Lane: Under the Tuscan Sun come on down! There just might be bigger fish to fry these days.
And there's a scene in the show when the hustler knows he's gonna die. The ground opens and he climbs inside
Is there a hand to take hold of the scene?
No, I haven't lost my mind, but it is in pieces inside my head. I have decided to blog brainstorming style. I'm just writing (typing) and not editing. It's kind of fun.
Damn it. 4 lemon seeds. And only 3 bloody mary's.
Gracing each face that is making the waste that is broken as one's fairly fly.
Ever wonder why there are so many love songs? Because love hurts. (I actually wasn't quoting song lyrics there). That is why I hope not to ever fall in it again. That is not to say I don't hope to be in it.
There you are standing right in front of me…hold me close cause I need you to guide me to safety.
I think it's time to board my flight. I've missed you all (still do, as my best friends are all over the country…)
Thanks for listening to my random (vodka infused) lyrics to my life.
I can ride my bike with no handlebars...no handlebars....
Blog Tag
Blog Tag Category: Blogging
The rules in this game of tag are simple...once you've been tagged you must write a blog with ten weird,random things,little known facts or habits about yourself.At the end choose at least 10 people to be tagged,list their names and why you chose them. Don't forget to leave each one a comment stating " You've Been Tagged" and tell them to read your latest blog. You can't tag someone who has already been tagged...
1. I eat mustard sandwiches...I put a smiley face on one side and my age on the other. I am amused every year older I get that I am still making mustard sandwiches this way.
2. I secretly laugh at mullets. Well, actually I laugh out loud.
3. I can watch Friends reruns forever. I don't know why I still find this show amusing, but I do.
4. I l-o-v-e Scott Russo. But this is no secret. The secret/sad part is that I know he is hardly a role-model, the coke snorting rockstar that he is, but he is just so HOT.
5. I am still infatuated with Disney. The kid in me just loves adventure/ imagination.
6. I own several Magic Card decks. And I actually like to play.
7. I love and hate my job. I'm not sure how this is possible, but it is.
8. I just now bought an Ipod. This is very lame, but at least I had the headphones years ago and could just hide the discman so it looked like I owned one.
9. The last few weeks of pregnancy suck. Those who've been prego know this. Cankles is all I can say. Seriously. Where did my ankles go?
10. I drive like a maniac and I don't care. Stay away from me if you see me on the road and bring Xanax if you plan to ride with me anywhere.
IT'S HARD TO COME UP WITH 10 SECRETS!!!
The rules in this game of tag are simple...once you've been tagged you must write a blog with ten weird,random things,little known facts or habits about yourself.At the end choose at least 10 people to be tagged,list their names and why you chose them. Don't forget to leave each one a comment stating " You've Been Tagged" and tell them to read your latest blog. You can't tag someone who has already been tagged...
1. I eat mustard sandwiches...I put a smiley face on one side and my age on the other. I am amused every year older I get that I am still making mustard sandwiches this way.
2. I secretly laugh at mullets. Well, actually I laugh out loud.
3. I can watch Friends reruns forever. I don't know why I still find this show amusing, but I do.
4. I l-o-v-e Scott Russo. But this is no secret. The secret/sad part is that I know he is hardly a role-model, the coke snorting rockstar that he is, but he is just so HOT.
5. I am still infatuated with Disney. The kid in me just loves adventure/ imagination.
6. I own several Magic Card decks. And I actually like to play.
7. I love and hate my job. I'm not sure how this is possible, but it is.
8. I just now bought an Ipod. This is very lame, but at least I had the headphones years ago and could just hide the discman so it looked like I owned one.
9. The last few weeks of pregnancy suck. Those who've been prego know this. Cankles is all I can say. Seriously. Where did my ankles go?
10. I drive like a maniac and I don't care. Stay away from me if you see me on the road and bring Xanax if you plan to ride with me anywhere.
IT'S HARD TO COME UP WITH 10 SECRETS!!!
Liar....if we’re keeping score
It has come to my attention somewhat fairly recently that my ex husband is either remarried or about to be.
The poor girl...I wish I could help her, and she seems really nice.
The odd thing about this is that a few months ago SH (I still call him shithead--it was a pet name during our marriage and I just know too many Chris') called me and asked for a copy of our divorce paperwork because his job was going to fire him on a technicality. I tried to help him out but couldn't find my copy either so it was to no avail. That was the last time we talked.
I did find my divorce paperwork yesterday; I need it to change my name back to it's maiden form so that I can have the same last name as the baby. I then realized that perhaps SH was lying to me...why would his job fire him for putting single instead of divorced on his application? And he would need to show PA a copy of our divorce in order to get remarried.
I just find it odd that the man would lie to me. Maybe he wasn't, this could be just purely speculation. However, it wasn't a year ago that he drunkenly called me and "wanted me back". Anyone who knows SH knows that he does a lot of impulsive (and very stupid) things and this did not phase me at all. It's pretty typical SH behavior actually and I didn't take it seriously. My point, however, is that he must not have known her very long. (He asked me to marry him after 4 weeks of dating and we moved in together at 6 weeks...granted I was 18 at the time). I do suppose now that he's engaged or remarried that his offer to be his roommate if I should move back to NY/PA does not stand. (rofl....)
I do wish them both the best...having at one point loved the man, even if we couldn't work it out, I do think that a part of me hopes that the efforts I put into him are not wasted.
And I do have a little advice for the future Mrs. White should she happen to stumble on my blog:
~Be sure and keep up with the laundry--he really hates it when it isn't done.
~Don't put bacon in the freezer when clearly it is meant for the refridgerator.
~Be sure to plan and buy a lot of meat meals for the week and at least a 36 pack of Miller Light for the weekend. He'll settle for another light beer on occasion and when he is out of a job and can't buy his own.
~Only soft toilet paper will do.
~The bathroom gets scrubbed with bleach.
~Be sure to keep your phone by your head when he is out without you and keep at least $500 hanging around for bail .
~Learn how to pick him up from the bar and make a fast getaway.
~Do not get fingerprints on the side of his truck, especially after he has just washed it. I found that opening the door with my sleeve over my hand or my elbow worked pretty well.
~Be sure to keep unemployment on speed dial.
~His dad will grab your ass if he gets too drunk--be prepared.
~Do not expect to get to pick the restaurant or the movie, ever.
~If $50 is missing from your bank account, check under the couch (cushions and all) for new video games.
~Call all of your friends and bid them farewell. Male friends are off limits and your girlfriends are inevitably sluts.
~Learn to crush up the lithium and put it in dinner in case he decides he doesn't "need" it anymore. Otherwise, I know a decent divorce lawyer I can refer you to.
Those are the important things to know, anyway. I still am slightly curious whether he really was telling the truth or if he felt he couldn't tell me he was getting remarried. Either way I do wish him the best of luck in his new relationship and I hope he's at least learned how to help carry in the groceries and open the door once in a while. And in the future (for the record) SH, you do not need to lie about getting remarried to me--I'm a big girl and quite frankly, although I still care about you in the sense that I hope you aren't dead, I could really care less if you found someone who makes you happy, and am actually happy for you (still sad for her though).
My wonderful ex taught me exactly what I don't want in a man/marriage, and although my dating portfolio is a definitely different these days, I have no doubt that someone (quite possibly anyone) could make me happier than he did. I remember when we split up I said that if it meant I had to be single for the rest of my life it would be worth it. I still stand by that.
I'm not curious enough to call, but perhaps I will send a civil text of congratulations. We'll see. In the meantime--keep it in your shoe.
The poor girl...I wish I could help her, and she seems really nice.
The odd thing about this is that a few months ago SH (I still call him shithead--it was a pet name during our marriage and I just know too many Chris') called me and asked for a copy of our divorce paperwork because his job was going to fire him on a technicality. I tried to help him out but couldn't find my copy either so it was to no avail. That was the last time we talked.
I did find my divorce paperwork yesterday; I need it to change my name back to it's maiden form so that I can have the same last name as the baby. I then realized that perhaps SH was lying to me...why would his job fire him for putting single instead of divorced on his application? And he would need to show PA a copy of our divorce in order to get remarried.
I just find it odd that the man would lie to me. Maybe he wasn't, this could be just purely speculation. However, it wasn't a year ago that he drunkenly called me and "wanted me back". Anyone who knows SH knows that he does a lot of impulsive (and very stupid) things and this did not phase me at all. It's pretty typical SH behavior actually and I didn't take it seriously. My point, however, is that he must not have known her very long. (He asked me to marry him after 4 weeks of dating and we moved in together at 6 weeks...granted I was 18 at the time). I do suppose now that he's engaged or remarried that his offer to be his roommate if I should move back to NY/PA does not stand. (rofl....)
I do wish them both the best...having at one point loved the man, even if we couldn't work it out, I do think that a part of me hopes that the efforts I put into him are not wasted.
And I do have a little advice for the future Mrs. White should she happen to stumble on my blog:
~Be sure and keep up with the laundry--he really hates it when it isn't done.
~Don't put bacon in the freezer when clearly it is meant for the refridgerator.
~Be sure to plan and buy a lot of meat meals for the week and at least a 36 pack of Miller Light for the weekend. He'll settle for another light beer on occasion and when he is out of a job and can't buy his own.
~Only soft toilet paper will do.
~The bathroom gets scrubbed with bleach.
~Be sure to keep your phone by your head when he is out without you and keep at least $500 hanging around for bail .
~Learn how to pick him up from the bar and make a fast getaway.
~Do not get fingerprints on the side of his truck, especially after he has just washed it. I found that opening the door with my sleeve over my hand or my elbow worked pretty well.
~Be sure to keep unemployment on speed dial.
~His dad will grab your ass if he gets too drunk--be prepared.
~Do not expect to get to pick the restaurant or the movie, ever.
~If $50 is missing from your bank account, check under the couch (cushions and all) for new video games.
~Call all of your friends and bid them farewell. Male friends are off limits and your girlfriends are inevitably sluts.
~Learn to crush up the lithium and put it in dinner in case he decides he doesn't "need" it anymore. Otherwise, I know a decent divorce lawyer I can refer you to.
Those are the important things to know, anyway. I still am slightly curious whether he really was telling the truth or if he felt he couldn't tell me he was getting remarried. Either way I do wish him the best of luck in his new relationship and I hope he's at least learned how to help carry in the groceries and open the door once in a while. And in the future (for the record) SH, you do not need to lie about getting remarried to me--I'm a big girl and quite frankly, although I still care about you in the sense that I hope you aren't dead, I could really care less if you found someone who makes you happy, and am actually happy for you (still sad for her though).
My wonderful ex taught me exactly what I don't want in a man/marriage, and although my dating portfolio is a definitely different these days, I have no doubt that someone (quite possibly anyone) could make me happier than he did. I remember when we split up I said that if it meant I had to be single for the rest of my life it would be worth it. I still stand by that.
I'm not curious enough to call, but perhaps I will send a civil text of congratulations. We'll see. In the meantime--keep it in your shoe.
If you want to destroy my sweater
Pull this thread as I walk away.
I have been buying clothes like they are going out of style. Well, knowing me, they most likely are...I've never been the overly fashionable type. But it hadn't occured to me until just today that the reason I am buying a ton of new clothes is that I am slightly depressed about the amount of work I have to do to get back to my "old self" (physically).
I think I am going to have to accept that there are things about me as a "mom" that make me a different kind of attractive. And by that I mean, the hopes of having a body like a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader are gone. I can only hope to fall into the cute category (I've never been in supermodel shape anyway).
Stretch marks and extra weight are amongst the host of things about my physical self that have changed and will require an amount of work that can't be acheived overnight to get me back to me. I will regain a state of normalcy in time I'm sure, but the rough part about waiting for that is that I'm still single. It's slightly depressing knowing that I have physical "scars" from having a baby yet I have no one that already loves me "for who I am". A lot of these are cliches and I believe that because I am just so cool that I will settle down someday. But in the meantime, my pocketbook needs a break. I need to realize that no amount of sweaters and new boots is going to change the fact that I am different (inward and outward). But I do look pretty cute in my new boots.
I have been buying clothes like they are going out of style. Well, knowing me, they most likely are...I've never been the overly fashionable type. But it hadn't occured to me until just today that the reason I am buying a ton of new clothes is that I am slightly depressed about the amount of work I have to do to get back to my "old self" (physically).
I think I am going to have to accept that there are things about me as a "mom" that make me a different kind of attractive. And by that I mean, the hopes of having a body like a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader are gone. I can only hope to fall into the cute category (I've never been in supermodel shape anyway).
Stretch marks and extra weight are amongst the host of things about my physical self that have changed and will require an amount of work that can't be acheived overnight to get me back to me. I will regain a state of normalcy in time I'm sure, but the rough part about waiting for that is that I'm still single. It's slightly depressing knowing that I have physical "scars" from having a baby yet I have no one that already loves me "for who I am". A lot of these are cliches and I believe that because I am just so cool that I will settle down someday. But in the meantime, my pocketbook needs a break. I need to realize that no amount of sweaters and new boots is going to change the fact that I am different (inward and outward). But I do look pretty cute in my new boots.
wanderlustfully anxieated
I think I made anxieated up.
Call it postpartum depression, but I think it's just plain me. Only now instead of doing what I want, I have another (although wonderful) human being for which I am responsible for.
Yesterday I was driving in snow (again, which is another grievance) to Wal-Mart for some formula for the babers. Quite honestly, I thought about driving straight to Vegas instead, calling my parents when I got there and profusely apologizing with a cosmopolitan in my hand for leaving them with the little guy. I'd return, sure, at some point.
Unfortunately as a mother you don't get a hiatus. Even if I went to Vegas to party like a rockstar, could I do it with the same disregard I'd had in the past? Could I not care what time I got in, and that my girlfriends and I got up to the penthouse suite? Would I respect myself if I pretended that I am not donning yoga pants and driving an SUV around for formula and diapers the other 360 days of the year?
I believe that at some point most mothers feel like becoming a mother is/was a loss of self. I don't want to lose myself, but I'm not quite sure I can be my pre-mother self either. Which leaves me with a wanderlustful anxiety that I am just dying to relieve.
I have to ask: do we become someone else as parents? If the person we were in the past is not entirely what you'd hope from your offspring, do you have a parental responsibility to be another person? If so, how do you become that person? Is it a part of "growing up" (a thing I swore I'd never really do since the day I heard the Toys R Us song after the Kid Sister commercial)?
I believe that I long ago opened my Pandora's box and the swarm of evil that was released is still to this day intoxicating my veins; still pumping through to my core along with my blood. I just hope that as a mother I can trump this curiosity and wanderlust with responsibility more often than not.
I envisioned myself going through life as a quasi-gypsy, following music and my other passions around the earth. I believed that in some way I would spend my life with someone who felt similar, and lived the majority of the time outside or the norms and routines of life. Yet here I am driving an Acura in suburbia, CO, cooking dinners and decorating my tree. These are things I love, but a routine of this sort of life bores me to tears.
I can only hope that someday my son and I can tour the world watching indie bands and eating strange foods. And maybe we'll find someone to do it with. Until then I live vicariously through books and imagination, hoping I still have nine lives with which to explore my curiosity.
Call it postpartum depression, but I think it's just plain me. Only now instead of doing what I want, I have another (although wonderful) human being for which I am responsible for.
Yesterday I was driving in snow (again, which is another grievance) to Wal-Mart for some formula for the babers. Quite honestly, I thought about driving straight to Vegas instead, calling my parents when I got there and profusely apologizing with a cosmopolitan in my hand for leaving them with the little guy. I'd return, sure, at some point.
Unfortunately as a mother you don't get a hiatus. Even if I went to Vegas to party like a rockstar, could I do it with the same disregard I'd had in the past? Could I not care what time I got in, and that my girlfriends and I got up to the penthouse suite? Would I respect myself if I pretended that I am not donning yoga pants and driving an SUV around for formula and diapers the other 360 days of the year?
I believe that at some point most mothers feel like becoming a mother is/was a loss of self. I don't want to lose myself, but I'm not quite sure I can be my pre-mother self either. Which leaves me with a wanderlustful anxiety that I am just dying to relieve.
I have to ask: do we become someone else as parents? If the person we were in the past is not entirely what you'd hope from your offspring, do you have a parental responsibility to be another person? If so, how do you become that person? Is it a part of "growing up" (a thing I swore I'd never really do since the day I heard the Toys R Us song after the Kid Sister commercial)?
I believe that I long ago opened my Pandora's box and the swarm of evil that was released is still to this day intoxicating my veins; still pumping through to my core along with my blood. I just hope that as a mother I can trump this curiosity and wanderlust with responsibility more often than not.
I envisioned myself going through life as a quasi-gypsy, following music and my other passions around the earth. I believed that in some way I would spend my life with someone who felt similar, and lived the majority of the time outside or the norms and routines of life. Yet here I am driving an Acura in suburbia, CO, cooking dinners and decorating my tree. These are things I love, but a routine of this sort of life bores me to tears.
I can only hope that someday my son and I can tour the world watching indie bands and eating strange foods. And maybe we'll find someone to do it with. Until then I live vicariously through books and imagination, hoping I still have nine lives with which to explore my curiosity.
Morning Antics for your amusement
Upon waking up, I had a nagging feeling that perhaps I should work from home this morning. I chalked it up to my lack of desire for being awake before the clock reads four digits, and got ready for work.
I was already running a little behind, but my dad needed a jump start. Mother Nature and her freezing cold weather had stalled his warm weather battery. Considering he would run a little late to help me, I was not concerned.
I hit the road, and quickly realized I needed gas. I stopped at a place in Castle Rock where gas is cheap, but the station is small and often crowded. As I was attempting to line up behind a pump, a station wagon from the street came plowing through without looking and nearly t-boned me. I decided to let it go since I hate to be stressed before my day even begins. At the time of the incident, my brother and I were solving the worlds problems via cell phone. Don't worry: I was using my headset like a good little girl.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, there is a skinny liberal walking up to my window. I roll the window down for amusement and look at him.
"Maybe if you weren't talking on your phone you could drive."
"Maybe you should mind your own business."
"Your IQ is about as real as your breasts"
**Keep in mind I have always been proud of my silicone-free breasts, but I guess the California license plate drove him to a presumption. Not to mention since giving birth to the little man I have increased by a cup size, however, my waistline increased a dress size too.**
This antogonistic comment angered me, and the best I could come up with is:
"And what exactly do YOU do for a living?" This was an attempt to lure him into asking what I do so that I could tell him "tax accounting" and I that work for a firm he likely can't afford to use.
"I'm retired" Observant as I am, I noticed his wife, who was donning a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and his son, who was about 2, in the car, which likely tells me that this is a lie.
"Judging by the subaru it looks like you did well for yourself."
He walks away, and I stare him down to be sure that the confidence and assurance in I had in myself and the fact that I honestly did nothing to provoke or deserve these comments is burned into him. I have long since gotten past owing anyone the right to play victim simply because I drive a nice car, have a God-given rack, or display California license plates.
I then return to my conversation with my brother. The man pulls out and I wonder if he is too frazzled to pump gas after chewing out a perfect stranger for no reason. He then turns his car around, and proceeds to pull his car into the pump the other direction. It is then that I realize he pulled up on the wrong side; his cap is on the driver's side of his car. Intelligence at its finest.
As he pulls away, I wave and shout "Have a nice day".
I was already running a little behind, but my dad needed a jump start. Mother Nature and her freezing cold weather had stalled his warm weather battery. Considering he would run a little late to help me, I was not concerned.
I hit the road, and quickly realized I needed gas. I stopped at a place in Castle Rock where gas is cheap, but the station is small and often crowded. As I was attempting to line up behind a pump, a station wagon from the street came plowing through without looking and nearly t-boned me. I decided to let it go since I hate to be stressed before my day even begins. At the time of the incident, my brother and I were solving the worlds problems via cell phone. Don't worry: I was using my headset like a good little girl.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, there is a skinny liberal walking up to my window. I roll the window down for amusement and look at him.
"Maybe if you weren't talking on your phone you could drive."
"Maybe you should mind your own business."
"Your IQ is about as real as your breasts"
**Keep in mind I have always been proud of my silicone-free breasts, but I guess the California license plate drove him to a presumption. Not to mention since giving birth to the little man I have increased by a cup size, however, my waistline increased a dress size too.**
This antogonistic comment angered me, and the best I could come up with is:
"And what exactly do YOU do for a living?" This was an attempt to lure him into asking what I do so that I could tell him "tax accounting" and I that work for a firm he likely can't afford to use.
"I'm retired" Observant as I am, I noticed his wife, who was donning a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and his son, who was about 2, in the car, which likely tells me that this is a lie.
"Judging by the subaru it looks like you did well for yourself."
He walks away, and I stare him down to be sure that the confidence and assurance in I had in myself and the fact that I honestly did nothing to provoke or deserve these comments is burned into him. I have long since gotten past owing anyone the right to play victim simply because I drive a nice car, have a God-given rack, or display California license plates.
I then return to my conversation with my brother. The man pulls out and I wonder if he is too frazzled to pump gas after chewing out a perfect stranger for no reason. He then turns his car around, and proceeds to pull his car into the pump the other direction. It is then that I realize he pulled up on the wrong side; his cap is on the driver's side of his car. Intelligence at its finest.
As he pulls away, I wave and shout "Have a nice day".
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