So, I realize it's been a long time since I've written anything...sorry. I assure you I've been keeping up the whole skirt thing!
I've been busy. And tired. Lately I've kept myself running around catching up with friends and old coworkers and reuniting with some really old friends I haven't seen in probably close to 5 years. I've rediscovered my love for playing in the rain and playgrounds. And playing in the rain at a playground.
Last week I spent three days in Atlantic City (for work) for the New Jersey Apartment Association Conference & Expo. It was fun. There were two events at night that were a decent time, then during the day I had to stay in the exhibit and talk to people. It really wasn't that bad, just tiring, especially since the 2nd night there I stayed up way too late. At the end of June I'll be going to another show like that - the National Apartment Association Education Conference & Exhibition. It'll be in Boston. I'm excited for that because I've never been to Boston before and I have a few friends there that I'm hoping to hang out with one of the nights I'm there.
I have to go to bed. I'm exhausted.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Friday, May 11, 2012
Musical Once More
Despair can ravage you if you turn your head around
to look down the path that's led you here, cause what can you change?
You're a vessel now, floating down the waterways.
You can take your rudder and aim your ship,
just don't bother with the things left in your wake.
Just sail belly up to the clouds, the rocks scraping your back.
To breathe in the air will be the only thing that you have
and your love will be warm nights with pockets of moonlight
spotlighting you as you drift, the actor in this play.
And you walk across the stage, take a bow, hear the applause,
and as the curtain falls, just know you did it all
the best that you knew how and you can hear them cheering now.
So let a smile out and show your teeth cause you know you lived it well.
That is an exerpt from a song titled "This is Not an Exit," by the band Saves the Day (one of my favorites).
I want it played at my funeral.
I wrote music today. Like sat down at a piano and actually composed something. I even recorded it on my phone, and when I was really on to something, I wrote it down. That was tough because I didn't have staff paper, so I had to put it in a regular notebook, designating each note's letter so I wouldn't get confused the next time I look at it. The whole experience was awesome. It was so much fun just letting my fingers do whatever they wanted, just to see what they came up with. I have to say, I'm pretty happy with it. I haven't written music in almost ten years...it seems a little crazy to think about, but it's true. The last time I had to compose anything was in college. It felt good. Really good.
Now what would really be cool is if I can get some words down to this music. I've been feeling a little overwhelmed lately, in the sense that there's so much I need to get out of me in so many different forms. I guess we'll see where this takes me.
My brain hurts. Time for bed. I am SO glad tomorrow (I guess technically today) is Friday. This was a pretty crappy week.
to look down the path that's led you here, cause what can you change?
You're a vessel now, floating down the waterways.
You can take your rudder and aim your ship,
just don't bother with the things left in your wake.
Just sail belly up to the clouds, the rocks scraping your back.
To breathe in the air will be the only thing that you have
and your love will be warm nights with pockets of moonlight
spotlighting you as you drift, the actor in this play.
And you walk across the stage, take a bow, hear the applause,
and as the curtain falls, just know you did it all
the best that you knew how and you can hear them cheering now.
So let a smile out and show your teeth cause you know you lived it well.
That is an exerpt from a song titled "This is Not an Exit," by the band Saves the Day (one of my favorites).
I want it played at my funeral.
I wrote music today. Like sat down at a piano and actually composed something. I even recorded it on my phone, and when I was really on to something, I wrote it down. That was tough because I didn't have staff paper, so I had to put it in a regular notebook, designating each note's letter so I wouldn't get confused the next time I look at it. The whole experience was awesome. It was so much fun just letting my fingers do whatever they wanted, just to see what they came up with. I have to say, I'm pretty happy with it. I haven't written music in almost ten years...it seems a little crazy to think about, but it's true. The last time I had to compose anything was in college. It felt good. Really good.
Now what would really be cool is if I can get some words down to this music. I've been feeling a little overwhelmed lately, in the sense that there's so much I need to get out of me in so many different forms. I guess we'll see where this takes me.
My brain hurts. Time for bed. I am SO glad tomorrow (I guess technically today) is Friday. This was a pretty crappy week.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Terrible Tues
My graphic designer's dog tried to eat me today. He bit my leg and went after my ankles. Luckily, I decided to wear boots today. If it weren't for them, my achilles tendons would've been ripped to shreds. I was really shaken, but it wasn't anything a xanax couldn't fix.
That was abou 1:30pm. Earlier in the day I was informed that the printer who is printing the labels I designed needed a format that is impossible for me to have, due to the antiquated nature of the program I had to create it in. I had to resize it and fix everything accordingly, then send it as a JPG file to the graphic designer, who then was kind enough to turn it into an EPS file.
Everyone seems to think that I'm some kind of computer genius. I'm not tech support. I don't know how to do everything. Leave me alone.
If tomorrow isn't better, I'm not sure what I'm going to do.
That was abou 1:30pm. Earlier in the day I was informed that the printer who is printing the labels I designed needed a format that is impossible for me to have, due to the antiquated nature of the program I had to create it in. I had to resize it and fix everything accordingly, then send it as a JPG file to the graphic designer, who then was kind enough to turn it into an EPS file.
Everyone seems to think that I'm some kind of computer genius. I'm not tech support. I don't know how to do everything. Leave me alone.
If tomorrow isn't better, I'm not sure what I'm going to do.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Let the Whining Commence.
Yesterday's pin curls didn't turn out as planned, even though I followed the exact same procedure as earlier in the week. I couldn't really brush them out because I would've ended up looking like one of Charlie's Angels (I brushed them out late last night...I was right). Here, I'll let you see:
That was in the morning. After the brushing, it just got worse.
This morning I woke up chipper enough for a Monday, until I went to check on the shoes that were drying from Saturday. As I was looking the left shoe over, I thought that perhaps they could be saved...until I smelled a familiar yet unpleasant aroma. As luck would have it, the right shoe was sitting in a puddle of cat urine. Chipper-ness gone.
When I got to work, I was in a foul mood and on top of it I was starting to not feel well. I saw that my newsletter went out under the wrong sender address and ended up in junk mail. Fabulous. My stomach started to hurt more. Two hours later, I gave up and went home.
The rest of my day involved my niece, a nap, a sewing lesson and a trip to Kohl's and the grocery store.
I hate Mondays. I hope Tuesday will be better, but I doubt it.
That was in the morning. After the brushing, it just got worse.
This morning I woke up chipper enough for a Monday, until I went to check on the shoes that were drying from Saturday. As I was looking the left shoe over, I thought that perhaps they could be saved...until I smelled a familiar yet unpleasant aroma. As luck would have it, the right shoe was sitting in a puddle of cat urine. Chipper-ness gone.
When I got to work, I was in a foul mood and on top of it I was starting to not feel well. I saw that my newsletter went out under the wrong sender address and ended up in junk mail. Fabulous. My stomach started to hurt more. Two hours later, I gave up and went home.
The rest of my day involved my niece, a nap, a sewing lesson and a trip to Kohl's and the grocery store.
I hate Mondays. I hope Tuesday will be better, but I doubt it.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
It's a Small World After All
I went to a 50th birthday party today. At this party I met some new people who were pretty cool. Not only were they pretty cool, but they know people that I know. And not only do they know people that I know, they know people that I know from guard and dance!
The birthday boy's wife is best friends with my colorguard instructor from high school.
The birthday boy's best friend's wife was the first modern dance teacher of my most recent modern dance teacher.
I'm not sure I can convey the excitement that I had upon discovering those connections. In fact I know I can't. Let's just say that I was super animated and talking loud and fast and gesturing wildly. That generally means I'm excited.
At some point early evening it began to drizzle. Our group relocated from out in the open to under a large tent. Shortly thereafter, the heavens opened and it poured. My thoughts immediately went to my car...I couldn't remember if I had closed the sunroof! So I did the only rational thing anyone in my position would do - I grabbed my keys and sprinted to the car. The sunroof was closed. I was soaked, but the fact that the interior of my car was not soaked made it worth it. The possibility that my shoes may be ruined...I guess that was worth it too. Because shoes are cheaper than replacing the leather interior of an Audi. I love playing in the rain anyway so I really didn't mind getting soaked. I actually took my time on the way back to the tent. Yay for rain!
This is what one looks like after running about in the pouring rain after a couple of hours; the absolute epitome of beauty.
The birthday boy's wife is best friends with my colorguard instructor from high school.
The birthday boy's best friend's wife was the first modern dance teacher of my most recent modern dance teacher.
I'm not sure I can convey the excitement that I had upon discovering those connections. In fact I know I can't. Let's just say that I was super animated and talking loud and fast and gesturing wildly. That generally means I'm excited.
At some point early evening it began to drizzle. Our group relocated from out in the open to under a large tent. Shortly thereafter, the heavens opened and it poured. My thoughts immediately went to my car...I couldn't remember if I had closed the sunroof! So I did the only rational thing anyone in my position would do - I grabbed my keys and sprinted to the car. The sunroof was closed. I was soaked, but the fact that the interior of my car was not soaked made it worth it. The possibility that my shoes may be ruined...I guess that was worth it too. Because shoes are cheaper than replacing the leather interior of an Audi. I love playing in the rain anyway so I really didn't mind getting soaked. I actually took my time on the way back to the tent. Yay for rain!
This is what one looks like after running about in the pouring rain after a couple of hours; the absolute epitome of beauty.
No Sleep Til Brooklyn
RIP Adam "MCA" Yauch.
I've learned a few things this week:
1) I can have fun in the face of an old vice and not even think twice about it.
2) Being DD is actually kind of rewarding.
3) Catching up with friends is really nice...
4) But not so nice when you find out that they had a similar horrific experience with an ex-significant other.
5) I can stay out late and still be a grown up and go to work the next day.
6) And lastly, I'm too old for this kind of late-night socializing on a repetitive basis.
Best friend's brother (who I'm also friends with) was in town this last week. He lives in Colorado and rarely comes home, so when he's around we hang out. This week it involved tattoo retouching (his, not mine), a game of pool (I won), me playing the part of responsible driver, and long drawn out conversations that quickly fast forwarded the night to almost 3am. It was fun, but I was out every night this week. I just started being social again; this was overkill! But the next time I see him could be another 2 years from now, so whatever, I'll deal with being tired. It'll pass eventually.
I had some pin curl success this week:
My hair stayed that curly for two days. The secret? I pinned it while it was still kinda wet (using mousse), then slept on it. That was Tuesday and Wednesday. I had gotten some waterless foam shampoo for curly hair and used it Wednesday morning - it worked quite well!
Thursday I let my hair go au naturale:
There's a huge difference between the way my hair comes out of my head and the way I would like it to! And...I have a huge forehead. Sigh.
Friday, same hair, different makeup:
I really do have a lot of fun with looking completely different from day to day.
That about sums up the week. It's really early for me to be writing, so maybe I'll come back later, maybe not. Don't hold your breath.
I've learned a few things this week:
1) I can have fun in the face of an old vice and not even think twice about it.
2) Being DD is actually kind of rewarding.
3) Catching up with friends is really nice...
4) But not so nice when you find out that they had a similar horrific experience with an ex-significant other.
5) I can stay out late and still be a grown up and go to work the next day.
6) And lastly, I'm too old for this kind of late-night socializing on a repetitive basis.
Best friend's brother (who I'm also friends with) was in town this last week. He lives in Colorado and rarely comes home, so when he's around we hang out. This week it involved tattoo retouching (his, not mine), a game of pool (I won), me playing the part of responsible driver, and long drawn out conversations that quickly fast forwarded the night to almost 3am. It was fun, but I was out every night this week. I just started being social again; this was overkill! But the next time I see him could be another 2 years from now, so whatever, I'll deal with being tired. It'll pass eventually.
I had some pin curl success this week:
My hair stayed that curly for two days. The secret? I pinned it while it was still kinda wet (using mousse), then slept on it. That was Tuesday and Wednesday. I had gotten some waterless foam shampoo for curly hair and used it Wednesday morning - it worked quite well!
Thursday I let my hair go au naturale:
There's a huge difference between the way my hair comes out of my head and the way I would like it to! And...I have a huge forehead. Sigh.
Friday, same hair, different makeup:
I really do have a lot of fun with looking completely different from day to day.
That about sums up the week. It's really early for me to be writing, so maybe I'll come back later, maybe not. Don't hold your breath.
Monday, April 30, 2012
You May Take the Floor in Competition
Those seven words have the ability to make my heart race, my mind clear and my body ready for a fight to the finish. They are the words that begin every colorguard performance. They are the words, depending on your preparation, that kick off your road to either victory or defeat. Regardless of outcome, those words are a drug. They make every practice, every drop of sweat, every injury, every callus and every sore muscle worth it. It's all about the performance. All I need is a flag, a floor and an audience. Nothing else matters.
Yesterday I went to a show as a spectator for the first time. I spent almost 7 hours in a high school gym, watching all ages and talent levels ranging from elementary school to Independent World. I relished every last second and drank in my surroundings. The excitement of the performers and the air of self-importance of the instructors was palpable. I wished that I was stretching in the cafeteria, warming up in the rain and doing little pre-show rituals with my teammates. I wished I had crazy show makeup...I would've even loved a crushed velvet uniform.
I miss my spinning days. Yesterday was enough for me to realize that I need to do it again. The last time I marched was in 2005 with an Independent World (IW) guard named Apex. They were based out of Delaware. I loved every minute of it. Apex has since closed its doors, so need to find another guard, but I don't think that will be a problem.
I NEED to spin. That's just the way it is.
PS: If you have no idea what I'm talking about, please check out Winter Guard International and google things like "colorguard" or "winterguard."
Yesterday I went to a show as a spectator for the first time. I spent almost 7 hours in a high school gym, watching all ages and talent levels ranging from elementary school to Independent World. I relished every last second and drank in my surroundings. The excitement of the performers and the air of self-importance of the instructors was palpable. I wished that I was stretching in the cafeteria, warming up in the rain and doing little pre-show rituals with my teammates. I wished I had crazy show makeup...I would've even loved a crushed velvet uniform.
I miss my spinning days. Yesterday was enough for me to realize that I need to do it again. The last time I marched was in 2005 with an Independent World (IW) guard named Apex. They were based out of Delaware. I loved every minute of it. Apex has since closed its doors, so need to find another guard, but I don't think that will be a problem.
I NEED to spin. That's just the way it is.
PS: If you have no idea what I'm talking about, please check out Winter Guard International and google things like "colorguard" or "winterguard."
Friday, April 27, 2012
A Duck Walks Into a Bar...
I have a love/hate relationship with the show Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives. I usually see episodes that feature places that are too far away to realistically visit any time soon. Tonight, however, I was lucky enough to see an episode that's first stop was a place that's a little more accessible. And I fully intend to go. Soon.
Why?
Because someone has managed to make pot pie look appealing. See, I hate pot pie. Crust, peas, carrots, celery, onion, chicken and some kind of gooey, white-ish stuff (more commonly referred to as gravy) do not belong together. Why? Because it's gross. How do you make this formula un-gross? You make it with duck confit. Somehow, duck that's been marinated in its own fat, which is then the base to make a succulent looking gravy (and that says a lot, because I find the whole idea of gravy absolutely revolting), which is the blanching liquid for the vegetables...now that sounds amazing. Duck confit pot pie. Yes.
I wore the new coat today. I love it. It was the most interesting thing I had on today; I was almost sad to take it off when I got inside.
Don't mind the silly faces I'm making. Obviously, I don't have a modeling career in my future. I'm too fat and short anyway.
And now for some practical, girly-type nonsense. You may tune out if you wish.
I think my hair is having a mid-life crisis. Most would say it's naturally curly, I think it's naturally annoying. It's not doing anything it's supposed to. It won't curl properly when I leave it to curl on its own, it won't hold a curl if I create curls (any method - curling iron, pin curls, hot rollers or foam rollers), and today it didn't stay sleek and straight! It got all bushy and frizzy and I could feel kinks in the back of my head. When I got home from work, I flat-ironed it again and that seemed to help, but it was so weird. The last time my hair misbehaved like that when it was straight was quite a while ago. Like 2010 while ago. I don't know what to do. I'm considering bangs, but I'm terrified that they'll look terrible and then I'm stuck with them.
Ok, practical girl nonsense over.
Lately I've been wanting to write (something other than a blog). I've always had the vain imagining that I could write a book, one that people would actually read and, here's the kicker, like. I know, that's silly. I mean, what would I write about? Last night I was offered the chance to write my dad's biography (thanks Dad), today during a meeting with my boss and the computer guy, I thought that maybe I should write my boss' memoirs, because it seems the man has been everywhere, met everyone and done everything (no offense, Dad). At least it seems that way. Every time you have a conversation with him because one minute you're discussing something relevant and before you know it, you're on a fishing boat in Louisiana. I don't know. I'll probably never do it, because in order to succeed at such an accomplishment, you need one of two things, talent or confidence; I happen to possess neither.
I'm not sure how to tie all of this together for a neat finish. What do duck confit, my hair and my literary aspirations have to do with each other?
Sounds like a bad joke.
Why?
Because someone has managed to make pot pie look appealing. See, I hate pot pie. Crust, peas, carrots, celery, onion, chicken and some kind of gooey, white-ish stuff (more commonly referred to as gravy) do not belong together. Why? Because it's gross. How do you make this formula un-gross? You make it with duck confit. Somehow, duck that's been marinated in its own fat, which is then the base to make a succulent looking gravy (and that says a lot, because I find the whole idea of gravy absolutely revolting), which is the blanching liquid for the vegetables...now that sounds amazing. Duck confit pot pie. Yes.
I wore the new coat today. I love it. It was the most interesting thing I had on today; I was almost sad to take it off when I got inside.
Don't mind the silly faces I'm making. Obviously, I don't have a modeling career in my future. I'm too fat and short anyway.
And now for some practical, girly-type nonsense. You may tune out if you wish.
I think my hair is having a mid-life crisis. Most would say it's naturally curly, I think it's naturally annoying. It's not doing anything it's supposed to. It won't curl properly when I leave it to curl on its own, it won't hold a curl if I create curls (any method - curling iron, pin curls, hot rollers or foam rollers), and today it didn't stay sleek and straight! It got all bushy and frizzy and I could feel kinks in the back of my head. When I got home from work, I flat-ironed it again and that seemed to help, but it was so weird. The last time my hair misbehaved like that when it was straight was quite a while ago. Like 2010 while ago. I don't know what to do. I'm considering bangs, but I'm terrified that they'll look terrible and then I'm stuck with them.
Ok, practical girl nonsense over.
Lately I've been wanting to write (something other than a blog). I've always had the vain imagining that I could write a book, one that people would actually read and, here's the kicker, like. I know, that's silly. I mean, what would I write about? Last night I was offered the chance to write my dad's biography (thanks Dad), today during a meeting with my boss and the computer guy, I thought that maybe I should write my boss' memoirs, because it seems the man has been everywhere, met everyone and done everything (no offense, Dad). At least it seems that way. Every time you have a conversation with him because one minute you're discussing something relevant and before you know it, you're on a fishing boat in Louisiana. I don't know. I'll probably never do it, because in order to succeed at such an accomplishment, you need one of two things, talent or confidence; I happen to possess neither.
I'm not sure how to tie all of this together for a neat finish. What do duck confit, my hair and my literary aspirations have to do with each other?
Sounds like a bad joke.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Never a Dull Moment
I just had a conversation with my parents about transvestites. Now that's my idea of an exciting evening.
Let's recap my thrilling day, shall we?
I watched webinars about trade show exhibition. I hate the word webinar. I feel cheap even typing it.
I diffused the bomb I like to call my father. His client database disappeared last night. He broke the internet today. The computer as a whole wouldn't load correctly. If I hadn't come home for lunch (which I never do), I probably would've come home to only one parent. It wasn't pretty. I practically took him by the hand and forced him to eat lunch, sit with me while I finished eating lunch and hold the cat (touch therapy?), while my mom (AKA tech support) fixed everything upstairs.
I returned a red trench coat I bought last week because it was too big in the arms.
At the next store, I found a better, longer red trench coat that ended up being $7 cheaper than the first one.
My dinner was identical to my lunch. A turkey sandwich with tomato and colby jack cheese on potato bread. I switched up the mustard though. Whoo.
That about wraps up my day. Tomorrow holds promises of more webinars and a meeting. Man, if I keep up this pace, I might pull something.
Let's recap my thrilling day, shall we?
I watched webinars about trade show exhibition. I hate the word webinar. I feel cheap even typing it.
I diffused the bomb I like to call my father. His client database disappeared last night. He broke the internet today. The computer as a whole wouldn't load correctly. If I hadn't come home for lunch (which I never do), I probably would've come home to only one parent. It wasn't pretty. I practically took him by the hand and forced him to eat lunch, sit with me while I finished eating lunch and hold the cat (touch therapy?), while my mom (AKA tech support) fixed everything upstairs.
I returned a red trench coat I bought last week because it was too big in the arms.
At the next store, I found a better, longer red trench coat that ended up being $7 cheaper than the first one.
My dinner was identical to my lunch. A turkey sandwich with tomato and colby jack cheese on potato bread. I switched up the mustard though. Whoo.
That about wraps up my day. Tomorrow holds promises of more webinars and a meeting. Man, if I keep up this pace, I might pull something.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Breaking Up is Hard to Do
If you've ever been broken up with by the other person saying that they don't think you need to see each other anymore, and that you'll stay in contact and if you ever need them they're just a phone call away, then you know what the end of my therapy session felt like today.
Again, I pose the question, now what?
Again, I pose the question, now what?
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Cuban Guilt
"My parents brought me from a country where the people had no freedoms so that I could one day vote!"
This is what happens when your mother was an immigrant. If you can't tell by the title, she was born in Cuba.
I didn't vote today. I would've, but when my dad came to ask if I wanted to go with him, I was asleep. Apparently we had a conversation about it. I said I didn't feel well, he said ok and left. I don't recall this exchange at all.
It's true, I didn't feel well. Between my miserable mental state and my unhappy stomach, I was in rough shape today. I didn't go to work, I didn't organize my room (as I thought that I might, in an attempt to feel better mentally), I didn't do much of anything. I did manage to make it to my meeting tonight though. I'm the camp director for the young women at my church and tonight's activity was camp related so I obviously had to be there. I started out pretty miserable but managed to suck it up, have a decent time and actually be a little productive.
I should go to bed but I'm not tired...probably because I slept like the dead between 2:30pm and 6pm. Oops.
This is what happens when your mother was an immigrant. If you can't tell by the title, she was born in Cuba.
I didn't vote today. I would've, but when my dad came to ask if I wanted to go with him, I was asleep. Apparently we had a conversation about it. I said I didn't feel well, he said ok and left. I don't recall this exchange at all.
It's true, I didn't feel well. Between my miserable mental state and my unhappy stomach, I was in rough shape today. I didn't go to work, I didn't organize my room (as I thought that I might, in an attempt to feel better mentally), I didn't do much of anything. I did manage to make it to my meeting tonight though. I'm the camp director for the young women at my church and tonight's activity was camp related so I obviously had to be there. I started out pretty miserable but managed to suck it up, have a decent time and actually be a little productive.
I should go to bed but I'm not tired...probably because I slept like the dead between 2:30pm and 6pm. Oops.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Wait, What Are We Celebrating?
Today is the 30th birthday of one of my best friends. I met up with her, her boyfriend and her brother for dinner tonight. Upon my arrival, she whips out a sparkly, colorful creation and hands it to me over the table. It was a divorce card! Handmade! It was so thick and heavy it didn't even fit into an envelope! Here, take a look:
The picture in the middle is a marriage certificate with flames underneath it. Love it.
The inside is a bit personal, so no pic. Suffice it to say that it contained a heartfelt message of love and support and it almost made me tear up in public, just as the server tried to take my drink order. I managed to squeak out a request for a diet coke and then explain jubilantly that I just got divorced and that I got a divorce card! She seemed happy for me, but I doubt she cared much.
Anyway, you can imagine my discomfort when I handed my friend the punchy birthday card that I purchased not an hour prior.
It's a big year, 2012. So far there's been a birth, a divorce, and a birthday in my circle of friends. We turn 30 this year. More birthdays are coming, more parties, more happiness. I really think that this could be the best year ever. Bigger and better things are on the horizon, I can feel it.
Here's to being 30, divorced and most importantly, happy. Cheers!
The picture in the middle is a marriage certificate with flames underneath it. Love it.
The inside is a bit personal, so no pic. Suffice it to say that it contained a heartfelt message of love and support and it almost made me tear up in public, just as the server tried to take my drink order. I managed to squeak out a request for a diet coke and then explain jubilantly that I just got divorced and that I got a divorce card! She seemed happy for me, but I doubt she cared much.
Anyway, you can imagine my discomfort when I handed my friend the punchy birthday card that I purchased not an hour prior.
It's a big year, 2012. So far there's been a birth, a divorce, and a birthday in my circle of friends. We turn 30 this year. More birthdays are coming, more parties, more happiness. I really think that this could be the best year ever. Bigger and better things are on the horizon, I can feel it.
Here's to being 30, divorced and most importantly, happy. Cheers!
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Not Your Average Sunday
It started out normal enough. Got up, got dressed, had breakfast. My niece was coming with us so my mom took a few extra minutes to get her car seat ready, then we packed everyone in the car and were off on our way, a little later than usual, but we didn't miss anything when we got there.
As we settled into our pew, all was well. My niece was having fun singing made up words to the hymns (even when it wasn't time to sing), she was playing with her animal puppets, and overall was behaving rather well - until the first speaker began. This particular speaker was in her later years, and was whispering into a microphone that wasn't even working. The 8 or 9 fussy kids in my general region didn't help things any. I couldn't hear a thing. I had already volunteered to walk the halls with my niece if necessary, and it was soon evident that it would be. We had a grand ole' time. We played the piano (nicely & gently of course), we got a drink of water (from both water fountains, of course), we looked outside at the trees and the grass (when I asked if she knew who made the trees and grass she answered, "daddy?"), and made some new friends in the foyer.
When we heard the intermediate hymn, she wanted to go back to Mama, so we went back to our seats, only for her to not want to sit still or do anything she was told, so my mom took her for a spin. When they came back, I noticed that Niecey didn't climb up on the pew like she normally would. Odd. And then when I tried to drop her off at Nursery (something she always looks forward to), she walked in and then before I knew it, there was this tiny sobbing thing stuck to my legs. Weird. I picked her up and tried to get out of there as fast as possible (stepping on another child in the process) to take her to my mom and try to figure out what the heck was going on.
The timing of this couldn't have been worse. Why? Well, my mother teaches the adult Sunday School class! In hushed tones we scrambled to figure out what we needed to do and decided that my mom should try to take her to Nursery. It didn't work. Nothing worked, we had a screaming/sobbing two year old on our hands. I'm not sure why I'm saying "we." I had a screaming/sobbing two year old on my hands. For the next hour we walked, and we sat on the couch and had a small snack, then we walked some more, all with bouts of hysteria dispersed throughout. I had to carry her the whole time. We thought she hurt her arm; it was all swollen and she wasn't moving her left arm if she could help it.
Baby injuries are like Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about fight club. The first rule of baby injuries? Don't talk about the baby's injury! She'd start crying every time someone asked me what was wrong with her. And then if anyone tried to peek at her little arm by hiking up her sweater sleeve a little, forget it, she was howling.
When my mom was finished with her lesson, we left church early to take her to an urgent care center. It was determined (by a doctor who was not a pediatrician and didn't have the best child bedside manner) that my poor niece had a sprain; this was the product of an overzealous tug on my mom's hand while they were roaming the halls.
It was kind of a rough day. Playing mommy is not my thing.
At least I looked ok doing it.
As we settled into our pew, all was well. My niece was having fun singing made up words to the hymns (even when it wasn't time to sing), she was playing with her animal puppets, and overall was behaving rather well - until the first speaker began. This particular speaker was in her later years, and was whispering into a microphone that wasn't even working. The 8 or 9 fussy kids in my general region didn't help things any. I couldn't hear a thing. I had already volunteered to walk the halls with my niece if necessary, and it was soon evident that it would be. We had a grand ole' time. We played the piano (nicely & gently of course), we got a drink of water (from both water fountains, of course), we looked outside at the trees and the grass (when I asked if she knew who made the trees and grass she answered, "daddy?"), and made some new friends in the foyer.
When we heard the intermediate hymn, she wanted to go back to Mama, so we went back to our seats, only for her to not want to sit still or do anything she was told, so my mom took her for a spin. When they came back, I noticed that Niecey didn't climb up on the pew like she normally would. Odd. And then when I tried to drop her off at Nursery (something she always looks forward to), she walked in and then before I knew it, there was this tiny sobbing thing stuck to my legs. Weird. I picked her up and tried to get out of there as fast as possible (stepping on another child in the process) to take her to my mom and try to figure out what the heck was going on.
The timing of this couldn't have been worse. Why? Well, my mother teaches the adult Sunday School class! In hushed tones we scrambled to figure out what we needed to do and decided that my mom should try to take her to Nursery. It didn't work. Nothing worked, we had a screaming/sobbing two year old on our hands. I'm not sure why I'm saying "we." I had a screaming/sobbing two year old on my hands. For the next hour we walked, and we sat on the couch and had a small snack, then we walked some more, all with bouts of hysteria dispersed throughout. I had to carry her the whole time. We thought she hurt her arm; it was all swollen and she wasn't moving her left arm if she could help it.
Baby injuries are like Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about fight club. The first rule of baby injuries? Don't talk about the baby's injury! She'd start crying every time someone asked me what was wrong with her. And then if anyone tried to peek at her little arm by hiking up her sweater sleeve a little, forget it, she was howling.
When my mom was finished with her lesson, we left church early to take her to an urgent care center. It was determined (by a doctor who was not a pediatrician and didn't have the best child bedside manner) that my poor niece had a sprain; this was the product of an overzealous tug on my mom's hand while they were roaming the halls.
It was kind of a rough day. Playing mommy is not my thing.
.jpg) |
| New dress (Bass), blue suede shoes I've had a while (Candie's), vintage everything else (bracelet, necklace, earrings & slip) |
At least I looked ok doing it.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Good Night
This post is brought to you by The Odd Couple, Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives, and the biggest piece of chocolate cake I've ever seen.
I spent my day shopping estate sales, Goodwill and the Salvation Army. I'm going home with a set of yellow melamine dishes, a dress, a Burberry purse, a jewellery box, a white alarm clock, a multi-strand vintage faux pearl necklace and a mail sorter thingy with owls on it.
Time to sink into my comfy hotel bed and get up early for Time Out For Women, a Deseret Book sponsored conference for women.
Night!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Now What?
The title just about sums it up. Today was my first full day of divorcee-ness and I couldn't help but worry about what I'm supposed to do next. Like this whole "looming divorce" thing was a barrier to the world and now that it's actually happened, I feel like I'm supposed to do something. I don't like this feeling at all, and it's making me want to crawl back into my nice warm hole where I am alone and comfortable.
This reaction is exactly the opposite of what I thought would happen, and it's the opposite reaction that everybody seems to think I'm supposed to be having. Ok, so it's great news that I'm divorced. Yippee, I'm over it. I'd like to be left alone now, thanks.
Why do I always end up having smiley pictures on the days that I don't really feel like smiling?
This reaction is exactly the opposite of what I thought would happen, and it's the opposite reaction that everybody seems to think I'm supposed to be having. Ok, so it's great news that I'm divorced. Yippee, I'm over it. I'd like to be left alone now, thanks.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
D-Day
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Morning: I woke up to a dream about having received my divorce decree in the mail.
Afternoon: Check mail. Nothing. Pout.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
10:03am: Google chat my mom telling her to magically make the decree appear because I'm sick of waiting.
10:05am: Receive phone call from mom saying that the attorney just called to say he had the decree.
10:06am: Yell and jump up and down for joy.
10:30am: Realize that my productivity for the day is shot.
11:45am: Leave work to go to attorney's office.
11:55am: Find favorite parking spot on that street empty, with an hour and two minutes in the meter.
12:00pm: Pick up decree from attorney's legal assistant.
12:05pm: Yell out my car window to my attorney, who is walking down the street, to thank him profusely. I am in the middle of the street blocking traffic.
12:30pm: Have lunch with two of my bridemaids. Initially, the purpose was not to celebrate my newfound freedom, but the irony was there nonethless.
2:30pm: Return to work.
5:10pm: Give decree to mom so she can look at it in all its glory.
5:15pm: Look at official date of divorce to send to the clerk at church to change my marital status. It was Wednesday, April 11, 2012.
This is the face of someone who has been through hell and back (twice) and lived to tell the tale. I've been spit on, beaten, bitten, scratched, kicked, thrown, degraded, yelled at, called worthless, thrown in jail for reacting like a human being, homeless, out of work, called fat & useless, prohibited from practicing my faith and contacting my friends and family. It didn't take away my faith, and the last shreds of strength I could muster were 100% God-given. My gratitude is inexplicable.
Watch out world, I'm back.
Morning: I woke up to a dream about having received my divorce decree in the mail.
Afternoon: Check mail. Nothing. Pout.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
10:03am: Google chat my mom telling her to magically make the decree appear because I'm sick of waiting.
10:05am: Receive phone call from mom saying that the attorney just called to say he had the decree.
10:06am: Yell and jump up and down for joy.
10:30am: Realize that my productivity for the day is shot.
11:45am: Leave work to go to attorney's office.
11:55am: Find favorite parking spot on that street empty, with an hour and two minutes in the meter.
12:00pm: Pick up decree from attorney's legal assistant.
12:05pm: Yell out my car window to my attorney, who is walking down the street, to thank him profusely. I am in the middle of the street blocking traffic.
12:30pm: Have lunch with two of my bridemaids. Initially, the purpose was not to celebrate my newfound freedom, but the irony was there nonethless.
2:30pm: Return to work.
5:10pm: Give decree to mom so she can look at it in all its glory.
5:15pm: Look at official date of divorce to send to the clerk at church to change my marital status. It was Wednesday, April 11, 2012.
This is the face of someone who has been through hell and back (twice) and lived to tell the tale. I've been spit on, beaten, bitten, scratched, kicked, thrown, degraded, yelled at, called worthless, thrown in jail for reacting like a human being, homeless, out of work, called fat & useless, prohibited from practicing my faith and contacting my friends and family. It didn't take away my faith, and the last shreds of strength I could muster were 100% God-given. My gratitude is inexplicable.
Watch out world, I'm back.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
A Birthday, A Holy Day, Insane Days
First let me apologize for my absence. A lot has happened in the last week! So much that I was too tired to even think about writing anything. So sorry, but here's the scoop:
Niece's Birthday
My adorable niece turned 2 last Saturday, April 7th. She had a great day. My parents got her a little climber gym thingy for outside, and of course as soon as she saw my dad putting it together, she had to go outside NOW. That worked out for Aunt Bekah, who was busy making chocolate hazelnut cake bites. It was an arduous process that yielded delicious results. You bake a cake, let it cool, crumble it, mix in frosting (or in this case, Nutella) and whatever else (mini chocolate chips), roll them into little balls, cool them, dip them in melting chocolate and let it harden. From start to finish it took about 4 hours.
Her other gifts included a play vacuum that actually works, clothes, toys, and a pair of blue Converse that matched a pair I bought for myself:
Aren't we cute? She loved her shoes, I gave them to her as soon as I got home with them (bought both pairs that morning) and she was walking around hugging them, she even ate breakfast with them! Too funny.
Easter
Easter was nice and low-key. Here is a slice of LDS Easter goodness, 'He is Risen.' For dinner I made salmon, roasted veggies and tomato/cucumber salad. We're not huge fans of ham (as an entree) around here.
The Baking Extravaganza
Remember how I was asked to make the cake/cupcakes for the wedding of my bishop's youngest daughter? Well, the wedding was this past Friday. I prepared all week, getting last minute ingredients, tools and who knows what else! I worked Monday-Wednesday and took Thursday and Friday off. I think I was in AC Moore at least 3 or 4 times this week. By the number of coupons I had that were valid this week, I must've been there at least 3 or 4 times the week before as well.
I made one batch of fondant Monday, three on Wednesday and one more on Thursday. Thursday morning at about 8:30am, the mixing and baking began. My mom had invited 3 of her friends over to help, they were amazing! We finished at about 4pm with 156 "cupcakes" (they were really just cupcake sized mini square cakes) and four 8" round cakes, to be trimmed and layered later.
After cleaning up, I spent about a half hour sitting down, then returned to the kitchen to tackle the biggest/worst part of the whole project: THE FONDANT. I've never worked with fondant before, and promises of help from an old friend who is a pastry chef had my hopes held high, but as the hours ticked by with no confirmation of help, I knew I was on my own. Thankfully, a new friend had offered her services and was over just in time for the fondant-ing to start. The two hours immediately prior were spent figuring out how in the world I was going to trim a round cake to the size I needed...there was some trial and error and a bit of a meltdown which caused the members of my family to scatter and scurry out of the house to leave my to my own devices.
7:30pm, new friend arrives and we begin. She frosted (with the cream cheese frosting that was also made that morning) and I fondant-ed. We had a good rhythm going for about three hours, then she had to go because she had to be up at 5am. My dad had just gotten home from a meeting so he stepped in and took her place. Frost & fondant, frost & fondant, frost & fondant...it felt like it never ended. The hours ticked by slowly...midnight came and went, and between 1-2:30am there was nothing but silence. My poor father and I were so tired and ragged that we couldn't even speak. But at about 3am, the end was in sight! We perked right up and my mounting nausea finally went away. The last cake had fondant on it at about 4:45am Friday morning. We cleaned up, and I was asleep by 5:15am.
At the unholy hour of 9am, I rose from my bed like a zombie from the crypt. The cakes needed ribbon. My delirium was at an all-time high. Just as my mom and I were discussing how to proceed with the ribbon-ing, I received a phone call from yet another of my mom's friends, offering her services. She came armed with scissors (to cut the ribbon) and adorned the cakes with ribbon with my mom while I made a hard candy garnish that I never ended up using.
The original deadline for the cake was 2pm...my mom had it pushed back so we wouldn't lose our minds, but we would've actually come very close to being on time if we'd had to! I was going to try to squeeze a nap in, but that didn't happen. My dad and I delivered and set up the cakes around 5pm and were finished a little after 6.
Some of the cakes have a bluish tinge because at the end, I decided that rather than going back to the store to get more marshmallows & powdered sugar for another batch of fondant, that I would use the excess that had been trimmed from all of the other little cakes. There were cake crumbs in it, and since the cake is blue, the fondant is a little blue. It matched the wedding colors, so it worked out.
The Aftermath
The reception was lovely. The cake was a hit. When I got home around 10:30, I pretty much passed out cold.
Yesterday I made more cake bites using the excess cake from trimming the round cakes. I mixed the cake with leftover cream cheese frosting and then dipped them in melted white chocolate. They were tasty.
It's back to work tomorrow. I finally feel sane enough to join the real world.
Next up on my list of projects: church Memorial Day picnic. After that I'm clear until September, where I've been commissioned to figure out a "Cowgirl" themed cake for my best friends 1-year old.
That's about it for me. Back to reality tomorrow. For once, I'm happy to return to it!
Niece's Birthday
My adorable niece turned 2 last Saturday, April 7th. She had a great day. My parents got her a little climber gym thingy for outside, and of course as soon as she saw my dad putting it together, she had to go outside NOW. That worked out for Aunt Bekah, who was busy making chocolate hazelnut cake bites. It was an arduous process that yielded delicious results. You bake a cake, let it cool, crumble it, mix in frosting (or in this case, Nutella) and whatever else (mini chocolate chips), roll them into little balls, cool them, dip them in melting chocolate and let it harden. From start to finish it took about 4 hours.
Her other gifts included a play vacuum that actually works, clothes, toys, and a pair of blue Converse that matched a pair I bought for myself:
Aren't we cute? She loved her shoes, I gave them to her as soon as I got home with them (bought both pairs that morning) and she was walking around hugging them, she even ate breakfast with them! Too funny.
Easter
Easter was nice and low-key. Here is a slice of LDS Easter goodness, 'He is Risen.' For dinner I made salmon, roasted veggies and tomato/cucumber salad. We're not huge fans of ham (as an entree) around here.
The Baking Extravaganza
Remember how I was asked to make the cake/cupcakes for the wedding of my bishop's youngest daughter? Well, the wedding was this past Friday. I prepared all week, getting last minute ingredients, tools and who knows what else! I worked Monday-Wednesday and took Thursday and Friday off. I think I was in AC Moore at least 3 or 4 times this week. By the number of coupons I had that were valid this week, I must've been there at least 3 or 4 times the week before as well.
I made one batch of fondant Monday, three on Wednesday and one more on Thursday. Thursday morning at about 8:30am, the mixing and baking began. My mom had invited 3 of her friends over to help, they were amazing! We finished at about 4pm with 156 "cupcakes" (they were really just cupcake sized mini square cakes) and four 8" round cakes, to be trimmed and layered later.
After cleaning up, I spent about a half hour sitting down, then returned to the kitchen to tackle the biggest/worst part of the whole project: THE FONDANT. I've never worked with fondant before, and promises of help from an old friend who is a pastry chef had my hopes held high, but as the hours ticked by with no confirmation of help, I knew I was on my own. Thankfully, a new friend had offered her services and was over just in time for the fondant-ing to start. The two hours immediately prior were spent figuring out how in the world I was going to trim a round cake to the size I needed...there was some trial and error and a bit of a meltdown which caused the members of my family to scatter and scurry out of the house to leave my to my own devices.
7:30pm, new friend arrives and we begin. She frosted (with the cream cheese frosting that was also made that morning) and I fondant-ed. We had a good rhythm going for about three hours, then she had to go because she had to be up at 5am. My dad had just gotten home from a meeting so he stepped in and took her place. Frost & fondant, frost & fondant, frost & fondant...it felt like it never ended. The hours ticked by slowly...midnight came and went, and between 1-2:30am there was nothing but silence. My poor father and I were so tired and ragged that we couldn't even speak. But at about 3am, the end was in sight! We perked right up and my mounting nausea finally went away. The last cake had fondant on it at about 4:45am Friday morning. We cleaned up, and I was asleep by 5:15am.
At the unholy hour of 9am, I rose from my bed like a zombie from the crypt. The cakes needed ribbon. My delirium was at an all-time high. Just as my mom and I were discussing how to proceed with the ribbon-ing, I received a phone call from yet another of my mom's friends, offering her services. She came armed with scissors (to cut the ribbon) and adorned the cakes with ribbon with my mom while I made a hard candy garnish that I never ended up using.
The original deadline for the cake was 2pm...my mom had it pushed back so we wouldn't lose our minds, but we would've actually come very close to being on time if we'd had to! I was going to try to squeeze a nap in, but that didn't happen. My dad and I delivered and set up the cakes around 5pm and were finished a little after 6.
The Aftermath
The reception was lovely. The cake was a hit. When I got home around 10:30, I pretty much passed out cold.
Yesterday I made more cake bites using the excess cake from trimming the round cakes. I mixed the cake with leftover cream cheese frosting and then dipped them in melted white chocolate. They were tasty.
It's back to work tomorrow. I finally feel sane enough to join the real world.
Next up on my list of projects: church Memorial Day picnic. After that I'm clear until September, where I've been commissioned to figure out a "Cowgirl" themed cake for my best friends 1-year old.
That's about it for me. Back to reality tomorrow. For once, I'm happy to return to it!
Friday, April 6, 2012
Wonderful
The baby channel is playing in the background. Clearly, my reign of solitude is over.
Tomorrow the niece-girl turns TWO. I can't believe it. As much as I love the west coast (particulary Oregon), I'm glad I'm around to see her grow up. We'll be shoe shopping before you know it! I'm making chocolate hazelnut cake pops that will (hopefully) be in the shape of Minnie & Mickey mouse heads. We'll see. I'll post a picture of the results.
Speaking of results, this is how my hair ended up today after sleeping in pin curls:
Not too curly, is it? *sigh* I don't know what's going on. My hair hates me. It was kinda big and bouncy this morning though, so I guess it wasn't all in vain. Maybe big and bouncy is the way to go.
So it's Easter weekend. Time to remember the sacrifice that Christ made for all of us.
Oh it is wonderful that he would care for me enough to die for me
Oh it is wonderful, wonderful to me.
-I Stand All Amazed
Tomorrow the niece-girl turns TWO. I can't believe it. As much as I love the west coast (particulary Oregon), I'm glad I'm around to see her grow up. We'll be shoe shopping before you know it! I'm making chocolate hazelnut cake pops that will (hopefully) be in the shape of Minnie & Mickey mouse heads. We'll see. I'll post a picture of the results.
Speaking of results, this is how my hair ended up today after sleeping in pin curls:
Not too curly, is it? *sigh* I don't know what's going on. My hair hates me. It was kinda big and bouncy this morning though, so I guess it wasn't all in vain. Maybe big and bouncy is the way to go.
So it's Easter weekend. Time to remember the sacrifice that Christ made for all of us.
Oh it is wonderful that he would care for me enough to die for me
Oh it is wonderful, wonderful to me.
-I Stand All Amazed
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Hi there!
I'm still riding this high called life. I opened my blinds today. I haven't voluntarily done that in years! But when I got home from work today, I was enjoying my empty house with some music and dancing, and just spontaneously opened the blinds! My room looks so different when lit with natural sunlight.
So today there was dancing and nostalgia and the sudden urge to create. Suddenly I want to write the book people tell me I should be writing. I want to submit poetry and prose to hipster lit mags. I want to dance and sing and write and draw and paint all at the same time!
Seriously, I don't remember the last time I felt this great. I just woke up the other day and was happy. Genuinely happy! And a little stir crazy. I want to go out and do something for a change. I'd like to poke my head out and say hello to the world!
In addition to all of that, there was some primping. I put my hair in pin curls.
Please pardon the grainier-than-usual photo. I used the front facing camera on my phone to take the picture and the quality isn't as good. Not that the regular camera is that great.
Anyway, there they are. They're a pain to do but the results are fun. Well, if they take. If they don't, then I wasted an hour and my hair looks terrible, usually resulting in a ponytail.
I'm going to attempt to sleep. Wish me luck. I'm not tired but I have to get up for work, so...yeah. Bedtime.
Night!
Note: When I was labeling this post, I typed in 'happy' and realized that it hadn't been used yet. I've been blogging for 3 months and never once made a significant enough mention of happiness for it to warrant a label. That's kinda sad.
So today there was dancing and nostalgia and the sudden urge to create. Suddenly I want to write the book people tell me I should be writing. I want to submit poetry and prose to hipster lit mags. I want to dance and sing and write and draw and paint all at the same time!
Seriously, I don't remember the last time I felt this great. I just woke up the other day and was happy. Genuinely happy! And a little stir crazy. I want to go out and do something for a change. I'd like to poke my head out and say hello to the world!
In addition to all of that, there was some primping. I put my hair in pin curls.
Please pardon the grainier-than-usual photo. I used the front facing camera on my phone to take the picture and the quality isn't as good. Not that the regular camera is that great.
Anyway, there they are. They're a pain to do but the results are fun. Well, if they take. If they don't, then I wasted an hour and my hair looks terrible, usually resulting in a ponytail.
I'm going to attempt to sleep. Wish me luck. I'm not tired but I have to get up for work, so...yeah. Bedtime.
Night!
Note: When I was labeling this post, I typed in 'happy' and realized that it hadn't been used yet. I've been blogging for 3 months and never once made a significant enough mention of happiness for it to warrant a label. That's kinda sad.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Motivation, Music & Me
My bizzare streak of productivity and motivation continues. Tonight I made dinner, ordered Insanity, showered, dried my hair and cleaned my bathroom, all before 9:30. Very strange. Maybe not for normal people, but since I've proven time and time again that I'm nowhere near normal, this is weird. I almost feel normal. It's kinda nice! But I'm still on my guard and skeptical about whether or not this will stick.
Hmm. I just took a moment to rock out a bit, and when I turned around there was Narnia, staring at me from the corner. Creepy.
To what am I rocking out? "Drumming Song" by none other than Florence + The Machine. It came on Pandora the other day, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head since, thus resulting in the purchase of F+TM's first album "Lungs," and that purchase was the impetus behind the CD post yesterday. As a whole I believe I prefer "Ceremonials," but "Lungs" has its merits and "Drumming Song" is one of them. So is "Blinding."
In the liner notes of "Ceremonials" is a quote from Florence with which I wholeheartedly agree:
"The music is so euphoric as a way of battling the words. It's like an exorcism, beating it out with drums, shake this demon out, it's so visceral because the melancholy has to be drummed out. I can't let it sit inside me." - Florence Welch
That about sums it up. It's exactly how I feel, perhaps why I identify with her music so much. I wish I had said it. I wish I had written her music. I guess I could write my own songs, but I've lived in fear of doing such a thing for years now, even though I can sing, write music and pen lyrics fairly well. It's the fact that I can not create matching music and lyrics to save my life. Anyway, it's silly of me to even think about it because it'll never happen.
Anyway, I like music that absorbs me. For those few minutes, I become a part of it, losing myself. Complete immersion. Try it: 1) Go here. 2) Close your eyes.
Now you know why I didn't leave the computer until the song was over the other night. Perfection.
And this is what imperfection looks like:
Sweet dreams, kids.
Hmm. I just took a moment to rock out a bit, and when I turned around there was Narnia, staring at me from the corner. Creepy.
To what am I rocking out? "Drumming Song" by none other than Florence + The Machine. It came on Pandora the other day, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head since, thus resulting in the purchase of F+TM's first album "Lungs," and that purchase was the impetus behind the CD post yesterday. As a whole I believe I prefer "Ceremonials," but "Lungs" has its merits and "Drumming Song" is one of them. So is "Blinding."
In the liner notes of "Ceremonials" is a quote from Florence with which I wholeheartedly agree:
"The music is so euphoric as a way of battling the words. It's like an exorcism, beating it out with drums, shake this demon out, it's so visceral because the melancholy has to be drummed out. I can't let it sit inside me." - Florence Welch
That about sums it up. It's exactly how I feel, perhaps why I identify with her music so much. I wish I had said it. I wish I had written her music. I guess I could write my own songs, but I've lived in fear of doing such a thing for years now, even though I can sing, write music and pen lyrics fairly well. It's the fact that I can not create matching music and lyrics to save my life. Anyway, it's silly of me to even think about it because it'll never happen.
Anyway, I like music that absorbs me. For those few minutes, I become a part of it, losing myself. Complete immersion. Try it: 1) Go here. 2) Close your eyes.
Now you know why I didn't leave the computer until the song was over the other night. Perfection.
And this is what imperfection looks like:
Sweet dreams, kids.
Zippity Do Da
Good morning!
Remember how last night I was amazed at my desire to become a part of society again? Well after that, I went to my room, rocked out to some Florence + The Machine, and - are you ready for this - cleaned. Not in the strictest sense of the word, I didn't break out the vacuum, but I sorted laundry and put stuff back in my closet and by the end of it, I could see my floor.
My tendency to be a little messy is usually directly correlated to my mental state. Right now I don't have any furniture, so things like books and my teapot collection are just hanging out in a corner on the floor. It can't be helped. So my room is as neat and tidy as it can be for now.
It feels a little strange...real, functioning human emotions, and now the sudden urge to be in a more organized environment.
I woke up in a dandy mood, too. We'll see where this goes...I can't tell if it's real or not.
Eeek, gotta run. Time for work.
Remember how last night I was amazed at my desire to become a part of society again? Well after that, I went to my room, rocked out to some Florence + The Machine, and - are you ready for this - cleaned. Not in the strictest sense of the word, I didn't break out the vacuum, but I sorted laundry and put stuff back in my closet and by the end of it, I could see my floor.
My tendency to be a little messy is usually directly correlated to my mental state. Right now I don't have any furniture, so things like books and my teapot collection are just hanging out in a corner on the floor. It can't be helped. So my room is as neat and tidy as it can be for now.
It feels a little strange...real, functioning human emotions, and now the sudden urge to be in a more organized environment.
I woke up in a dandy mood, too. We'll see where this goes...I can't tell if it's real or not.
Eeek, gotta run. Time for work.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Who Even Buys CDs Anymore?
I do. And I'm not referring to a low-interest savings account.
I mean those round, plasticky things that you stick in a device and get music in return. Those things.
Buying a CD is a labor of love. Not only do you shell out your hard-earned cash for it, there's manual labor involved once you get it to the car (waiting til I get home is never an option). First you look it over, looking for any obvious weak spots in the plastic wrapping. Of course there aren't any, so you try opening it with your nails, keys, teeth...anything sharp enough to tear through one of the corners. This is especially tricky if you've purchased the "Deluxe" edition that cost extra because it came in a cardboard case and has 4 extra tracks. Obviously, you don't want to damage your brand-new cardboard investment.
Once you've managed to wrestle the plastic off, the real fun begins. The plastic is a tease, a transparent lie that allows you to see the object of your desire. Once it's off you remember that the darn thing is still sealed shut because someone decided that adding a sticker that is practically permanently affixed to the case itself was a good idea. I hope I never meet that person. I don't know what I would do to him or her, but glaring will be involved. I mean, really? A sticker that takes great amounts of patience and skill to detach? It doesn't come off in one clean piece either, it rips and breaks up into a dozen tiny pieces that you can't get off your fingers. And you pick, and you peel, and you pray, and you curse, and you plead until you get it all off...and realize that the piece you just removed was a 'pull' tab that quite possibly could have given you 10 minutes of your life back.
But was it worth it? For your sake, I hope so.
I've taken longer hours at Job #2, mostly eliminating Job #1. I'll be doing things here and there for a few hours, but that's it. Right now I definitely have enough to keep me occupied at Job #2, which will be referred to as "my job" from here on out. Anyway, it's only Tuesday and mentally, I'm beat. It's been a long time since I've sat in front of a computer for 7 hours straight. The irony in this is that obviously, I'm writing to you from a computer.
Look, I have big, unruly hair! And it's parted on the side! I'm really living on the edge, aren't I?
Today I caught myself lamenting the fact that I don't get many texts/phone calls/Facebook messages/personal email. What?! It was so strange...I actually missed being Miss Social Butterfly. I haven't cared to interact with anyone but my closest friends and family (and not even all of my family) since I've been home. Part of that was because I was still in shock over not having the option to have friends or family for so long.
Could it be that I'm starting to really recover from my isolation? I'm gregarious by nature but that was squashed right out of me. I can feel it coming back...I know that my anxiety will probably never fully go away, but I hope the fear of people does. It's kind of scary and exciting at the same time, and explains the weird mood I've been in the past couple of days.
I should probably tell my therapist.
I mean those round, plasticky things that you stick in a device and get music in return. Those things.
Buying a CD is a labor of love. Not only do you shell out your hard-earned cash for it, there's manual labor involved once you get it to the car (waiting til I get home is never an option). First you look it over, looking for any obvious weak spots in the plastic wrapping. Of course there aren't any, so you try opening it with your nails, keys, teeth...anything sharp enough to tear through one of the corners. This is especially tricky if you've purchased the "Deluxe" edition that cost extra because it came in a cardboard case and has 4 extra tracks. Obviously, you don't want to damage your brand-new cardboard investment.
Once you've managed to wrestle the plastic off, the real fun begins. The plastic is a tease, a transparent lie that allows you to see the object of your desire. Once it's off you remember that the darn thing is still sealed shut because someone decided that adding a sticker that is practically permanently affixed to the case itself was a good idea. I hope I never meet that person. I don't know what I would do to him or her, but glaring will be involved. I mean, really? A sticker that takes great amounts of patience and skill to detach? It doesn't come off in one clean piece either, it rips and breaks up into a dozen tiny pieces that you can't get off your fingers. And you pick, and you peel, and you pray, and you curse, and you plead until you get it all off...and realize that the piece you just removed was a 'pull' tab that quite possibly could have given you 10 minutes of your life back.
But was it worth it? For your sake, I hope so.
I've taken longer hours at Job #2, mostly eliminating Job #1. I'll be doing things here and there for a few hours, but that's it. Right now I definitely have enough to keep me occupied at Job #2, which will be referred to as "my job" from here on out. Anyway, it's only Tuesday and mentally, I'm beat. It's been a long time since I've sat in front of a computer for 7 hours straight. The irony in this is that obviously, I'm writing to you from a computer.
Look, I have big, unruly hair! And it's parted on the side! I'm really living on the edge, aren't I?
Today I caught myself lamenting the fact that I don't get many texts/phone calls/Facebook messages/personal email. What?! It was so strange...I actually missed being Miss Social Butterfly. I haven't cared to interact with anyone but my closest friends and family (and not even all of my family) since I've been home. Part of that was because I was still in shock over not having the option to have friends or family for so long.
Could it be that I'm starting to really recover from my isolation? I'm gregarious by nature but that was squashed right out of me. I can feel it coming back...I know that my anxiety will probably never fully go away, but I hope the fear of people does. It's kind of scary and exciting at the same time, and explains the weird mood I've been in the past couple of days.
I should probably tell my therapist.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Pardon Me While I Keep Talking
I'm feeling extra chatty today. Hope you don't mind. Of course, if you're even reading this, and beyond that, reading it with any regularity, then it's obvious you dont mind my babbling.
Yesterday one of my friends posted a typical April Fool's Day joke. You know, the one where they change their Facebook status to "engaged" or something along those lines. One of the comments to this supposed relationship change was someone saying that she bet they were registered at Staples.
Could you imagine such a thing? If you could register at Staples, I would be the happiest girl in the world. I walk through Staples with the same awe and reverence that most girls reserve for Tiffany's. I think my version of the famed movie "Breakfast at Tiffany's" would be "Lunch at Staples." Except I wouldn't be a call girl. Anyway, I found the most amazing notebook while I was there just a bit ago. It was divided into 3 sections, one lined, one graph and one blank. I believe my jaw may have actually dropped. It was amazing. And pretty. If you don't know about my obsession with notebooks, go here. I didn't buy it...you know, the whole being-a-responsible-adult-who-has-better-things-to-spend-her-money-on thing.
I haven't posted a picture in a while...
The fuzzy thing in the bottom right corner is Narnia. How I love her.
I kept it simple today; black dress, black sweater. One thing to note is that I don't particularly care for this dress. It has princess seams and I just don't find them flattering. But I was in desperate need of variety, so I wore it.
Yesterday marked 3 months of this whole skirt/blog thing! And you know what, I wore the exact same outfit I did on January 1st...on accident. It's weird, I hardly think about it anymore. It's all become normal...wearing skirts and blogging about life are now normal parts of my routine. I may not write every day because I sometimes have stuff to do (or don't have anything to say), but I can assure you that I haven't cheated on my wardrobe.
My stomach is telling me it's time for dinner...I guess I should listen.
Yesterday one of my friends posted a typical April Fool's Day joke. You know, the one where they change their Facebook status to "engaged" or something along those lines. One of the comments to this supposed relationship change was someone saying that she bet they were registered at Staples.
Could you imagine such a thing? If you could register at Staples, I would be the happiest girl in the world. I walk through Staples with the same awe and reverence that most girls reserve for Tiffany's. I think my version of the famed movie "Breakfast at Tiffany's" would be "Lunch at Staples." Except I wouldn't be a call girl. Anyway, I found the most amazing notebook while I was there just a bit ago. It was divided into 3 sections, one lined, one graph and one blank. I believe my jaw may have actually dropped. It was amazing. And pretty. If you don't know about my obsession with notebooks, go here. I didn't buy it...you know, the whole being-a-responsible-adult-who-has-better-things-to-spend-her-money-on thing.
I haven't posted a picture in a while...
The fuzzy thing in the bottom right corner is Narnia. How I love her.
I kept it simple today; black dress, black sweater. One thing to note is that I don't particularly care for this dress. It has princess seams and I just don't find them flattering. But I was in desperate need of variety, so I wore it.
Yesterday marked 3 months of this whole skirt/blog thing! And you know what, I wore the exact same outfit I did on January 1st...on accident. It's weird, I hardly think about it anymore. It's all become normal...wearing skirts and blogging about life are now normal parts of my routine. I may not write every day because I sometimes have stuff to do (or don't have anything to say), but I can assure you that I haven't cheated on my wardrobe.
My stomach is telling me it's time for dinner...I guess I should listen.
So Close I Can Taste It...
One year ago today, I received a phone call that would change my life...for the worse. The night of April 2, 2011, I was contentedly watching Yentl with my mother when my phone rang with an unfamiliar number on the caller ID. I answered it because it was a familiar area code, and I thought there was a good chance it was someone that I knew and actually wouldn't mind talking to.
I was wrong.
It was the ex on the other line. The ex he was living with. The ex who, for some reason, felt it necessary to intervene when he was falling to pieces because I wasn't in his life anymore. To spare you the gory details, this phone call resulted in a "reconciliation" that never, EVER should have happened. I lost everything.
I am happy (and almost proud) to say that today has another marker, and that is that I signed my final divorce papers today. I still have to wait for the return of his signatures, and who knows when that will be, but the end is very, very near. The taste of complete freedom is going to be so sweet.
Let's have a few niece-isms to lighten the mood, shall we?
Niece: Can I pet Narnia?
Aunt Bekah: Sure! (Brings cat over)
Niece: Pet her softly!
Ladies and gents, my niece knows how to use adverbs. I'm so proud.
Aunt Bekah: Were you naughty today?
Niece: YEAH!
Niece: (softly) ruff! ruff! ruff!
Aunt Bekah: Are you a puppy?
Niece: Yep! *giggle* ruff! ruff!
The little monster is now doing her whole screechy/giggly/yelly bit...and I just had her on my lap to discover that she smelled like vomit. Why? She gagged herself after drinking milk. Lovely. I made a joke about it, saying to at least do it in the toilet...I got some dirty looks about that. But as a former bulimic, I can tell you that dairy products are pretty gross on the way back up. I hope she found the experience less than pleasureable and never, ever does it again.
Oh, yeah. Here's one more for you. I was playing with her and tried to crawl into her tent. Her response as my rear half didn't make it in quite as planned?
"Aunt Bekah's so big! It's ok!"
Just what I needed, a reminder from a toddler that I have a big butt.
But it's ok. :)
I was wrong.
It was the ex on the other line. The ex he was living with. The ex who, for some reason, felt it necessary to intervene when he was falling to pieces because I wasn't in his life anymore. To spare you the gory details, this phone call resulted in a "reconciliation" that never, EVER should have happened. I lost everything.
I am happy (and almost proud) to say that today has another marker, and that is that I signed my final divorce papers today. I still have to wait for the return of his signatures, and who knows when that will be, but the end is very, very near. The taste of complete freedom is going to be so sweet.
Let's have a few niece-isms to lighten the mood, shall we?
Niece: Can I pet Narnia?
Aunt Bekah: Sure! (Brings cat over)
Niece: Pet her softly!
Ladies and gents, my niece knows how to use adverbs. I'm so proud.
Aunt Bekah: Were you naughty today?
Niece: YEAH!
Niece: (softly) ruff! ruff! ruff!
Aunt Bekah: Are you a puppy?
Niece: Yep! *giggle* ruff! ruff!
The little monster is now doing her whole screechy/giggly/yelly bit...and I just had her on my lap to discover that she smelled like vomit. Why? She gagged herself after drinking milk. Lovely. I made a joke about it, saying to at least do it in the toilet...I got some dirty looks about that. But as a former bulimic, I can tell you that dairy products are pretty gross on the way back up. I hope she found the experience less than pleasureable and never, ever does it again.
Oh, yeah. Here's one more for you. I was playing with her and tried to crawl into her tent. Her response as my rear half didn't make it in quite as planned?
"Aunt Bekah's so big! It's ok!"
Just what I needed, a reminder from a toddler that I have a big butt.
But it's ok. :)
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Jerks & Jailbait
I last left you to go to bed for a 5am wakeup call. I managed to not get too distracted after I left the computer and actually fell asleep before 11. Not only that, I actually got up at 5! The night wasn't without the usual awakenings (I hardly sleep through the night anymore), but I didn't feel too badly when I got up. And I was even cheerful when I arrived at my destination. You'd never know that some days I can't get out of bed because I'm so depressed.
Ok, so why did I get up at 5? I was invited to a meeting for a group called BNI. It's a business networking group that works on a local basis to help refer the business of others while receiving that same type of referral. It was pretty neat. Only one type of occupation/profession is in each chapter - for example, in the chapter I visited, there was a lawyer, a painter, a realtor, a graphic designer and a photographer, just to name a few, and there were no duplicates of anything. I really liked the congeniality between everyone and the respect everyone had for everyone else's business. I don't know many lawyers that would level with a tree cutter and treat them as a professional equal. Since I'm looking to start my own event planning business, I was invited to check it out (they don't have an event planner yet haha). The person who invited me does search engine optimization, and from what I can tell, is pretty good at it. Maybe I'm biased because he does work for both of my jobs...regardless, if you're in the market for someone to make your company visible on the internet, check him out: 1st Search Optimization.
That was probably the most exciting thing I did this week. I spent tonight cleaning the church building (with a few others) where a 12 year old boy scout asked me if I brought cupcakes. He had one of my cupcakes once, and now he seems to think I should carry them with me everywhere I go. I guess it's nice to be appreciated, even if your biggest fan is a 12 year old with a sweet tooth. Eh, that's not true. My best friend's little brother-in-law is probably my biggest fan. He's 9. Why is it that I seem to only attract jerks and jailbait?
The answer to half of that question is obvious - I've attracted jerks in the past because I haven't had solid footing in who I am. I've always had terrible self esteem and low self worth. I never believed that my thoughts/feelings/opinions ever meant something and I let people take advantage of that. It wasn't until someone took it all away that I realized how important those things are. I'm finally learning to like myself and I'm working on just being me no matter what others may think. I think that will do wonders for my judgement. At least I hope so. When I met what's-his-face, he was nice and charming and geeky...all good things, but it was such a tightly woven cover of what he really is - abusive, manipulative and controlling - that I'm not sure that even if I was in better shape mentally, that I'd be able to tell that there was something wrong. I just pray that I will never, ever make that kind of mistake again. No really, I actually pray for that. I'm convinced that as I take better care of myself spiritually as well as emotionally and mentally, that I will be able to make better decisions in regards to all facets of my life, not just my relationships.
As for the other half of the question...I really don't know why a 9 year old thinks I'm the best thing since Playstation 3, but it's ok, it's cute.
Nothing very exciting to report in the fashion department today. Except that I bought a pair of orange, t-strap, espadrille wedges. I liked them, but I actually had to be talked into buying them...by my father, of all people. I talked him into going to Kohl's after cleaning the church, and he talked me into buying espadrilles. I guess it's just more motivation for me to get a pedicure already.
Ok, my brain hurts. I'm going to bed. But not until this song is finished.
Now playing : "Bloodstream" by Stateless
Ok, so why did I get up at 5? I was invited to a meeting for a group called BNI. It's a business networking group that works on a local basis to help refer the business of others while receiving that same type of referral. It was pretty neat. Only one type of occupation/profession is in each chapter - for example, in the chapter I visited, there was a lawyer, a painter, a realtor, a graphic designer and a photographer, just to name a few, and there were no duplicates of anything. I really liked the congeniality between everyone and the respect everyone had for everyone else's business. I don't know many lawyers that would level with a tree cutter and treat them as a professional equal. Since I'm looking to start my own event planning business, I was invited to check it out (they don't have an event planner yet haha). The person who invited me does search engine optimization, and from what I can tell, is pretty good at it. Maybe I'm biased because he does work for both of my jobs...regardless, if you're in the market for someone to make your company visible on the internet, check him out: 1st Search Optimization.
That was probably the most exciting thing I did this week. I spent tonight cleaning the church building (with a few others) where a 12 year old boy scout asked me if I brought cupcakes. He had one of my cupcakes once, and now he seems to think I should carry them with me everywhere I go. I guess it's nice to be appreciated, even if your biggest fan is a 12 year old with a sweet tooth. Eh, that's not true. My best friend's little brother-in-law is probably my biggest fan. He's 9. Why is it that I seem to only attract jerks and jailbait?
The answer to half of that question is obvious - I've attracted jerks in the past because I haven't had solid footing in who I am. I've always had terrible self esteem and low self worth. I never believed that my thoughts/feelings/opinions ever meant something and I let people take advantage of that. It wasn't until someone took it all away that I realized how important those things are. I'm finally learning to like myself and I'm working on just being me no matter what others may think. I think that will do wonders for my judgement. At least I hope so. When I met what's-his-face, he was nice and charming and geeky...all good things, but it was such a tightly woven cover of what he really is - abusive, manipulative and controlling - that I'm not sure that even if I was in better shape mentally, that I'd be able to tell that there was something wrong. I just pray that I will never, ever make that kind of mistake again. No really, I actually pray for that. I'm convinced that as I take better care of myself spiritually as well as emotionally and mentally, that I will be able to make better decisions in regards to all facets of my life, not just my relationships.
As for the other half of the question...I really don't know why a 9 year old thinks I'm the best thing since Playstation 3, but it's ok, it's cute.
Nothing very exciting to report in the fashion department today. Except that I bought a pair of orange, t-strap, espadrille wedges. I liked them, but I actually had to be talked into buying them...by my father, of all people. I talked him into going to Kohl's after cleaning the church, and he talked me into buying espadrilles. I guess it's just more motivation for me to get a pedicure already.
Ok, my brain hurts. I'm going to bed. But not until this song is finished.
Now playing : "Bloodstream" by Stateless
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
A Rather Useless Post.
I hate it when I have thoughts of stuff to write about later...but then when later comes, I go blank. Grr.
I have to get up at 5am tomorrow anyway, so I think I'll just go to bed. Details tomorrow.
Night!
I have to get up at 5am tomorrow anyway, so I think I'll just go to bed. Details tomorrow.
Night!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
For the Love of Everything Holy
Please make the screeching child downstairs be quiet.
I feel awful and I'm not in a very good mood. I also have a headache. Just drink whatever it is you're supposed to be drinking and not throw the bottle so we can all call it a night already.
I did Job #2 from home today. I've been sick to my stomach again. Last night I didn't feel well, and then today my anxiety kicked it off; this morning I was so upset over a blurry Twitter photo (don't ask) that I was promptly sick afterwards and haven't felt right since.
I wish I could sleep for the rest of the week. I've been having a hard time getting up. I just don't want to face the day anymore.
I've been really bad with the pictures this week, I'm sorry. Bright pink tights, t-strap flats, denim pencil skirt, black heathered t-shirt, grey shrug. Pinkish eyeshadow, black liquid eyeliner, and a combination of orange and pink lipgloss that looked kinda cool. There you have it.
I feel awful and I'm not in a very good mood. I also have a headache. Just drink whatever it is you're supposed to be drinking and not throw the bottle so we can all call it a night already.
I did Job #2 from home today. I've been sick to my stomach again. Last night I didn't feel well, and then today my anxiety kicked it off; this morning I was so upset over a blurry Twitter photo (don't ask) that I was promptly sick afterwards and haven't felt right since.
I wish I could sleep for the rest of the week. I've been having a hard time getting up. I just don't want to face the day anymore.
I've been really bad with the pictures this week, I'm sorry. Bright pink tights, t-strap flats, denim pencil skirt, black heathered t-shirt, grey shrug. Pinkish eyeshadow, black liquid eyeliner, and a combination of orange and pink lipgloss that looked kinda cool. There you have it.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Just Another Panicked Monday
For once, that's a good thing.
I am now the proud owner of 4 brand new, shiny, SQUARE cupcake pans. I was going to bake something as soon as I got home with them, but then realized that I had no frosting, and I wasn't in the mood to make it. So no baking this evening. Anyway, my tendency to panic is the reason I was able to purchase the pans. Over dinner my dad and I were discussing the logistics of the reception for which I am baking. I remembered that Target had the pans I needed and all of a sudden I had this terrible sinking feeling that if I didn't go NOW they would be out of stock. So after dinner we headed to Target and sure enough, there were only 4 left, and they were on sale! And I have my panic to thank. Weird.
I'll admit it. I looked like a shapeless hag today. I worked Job #1 in pajamas and was very, very tempted to do the same for Job #2. Instead I stayed in the black t-shirt I slept in, threw on the denim maxi I wore Saturday, my yellow hoodie, some sloppy kohl eyeliner and the Batman chucks. It was bad. When it became evident that I'd have to go out for dinner, I swapped the hoodie for a better-fitting sweater and actually put some makeup on. I guess it was a slight improvement, but let's be real, who am I gonna impress at the Chinese buffet?
It's been 4 days since my 90 days were up. My attorney is waiting on his attorney. That makes me nervous, but I'm trying not to let it really affect me. He would want and expect me to be upset, it's just the kind of passive aggressive mental manipulation he excels at. So, I'm not upset. I'm just living my life a day at a time. Any more than that and I think I'd collapse under the pressure of just being alive.
Yes, just one day at a time. Monday is almost over...what will Tuesday bring?
I am now the proud owner of 4 brand new, shiny, SQUARE cupcake pans. I was going to bake something as soon as I got home with them, but then realized that I had no frosting, and I wasn't in the mood to make it. So no baking this evening. Anyway, my tendency to panic is the reason I was able to purchase the pans. Over dinner my dad and I were discussing the logistics of the reception for which I am baking. I remembered that Target had the pans I needed and all of a sudden I had this terrible sinking feeling that if I didn't go NOW they would be out of stock. So after dinner we headed to Target and sure enough, there were only 4 left, and they were on sale! And I have my panic to thank. Weird.
I'll admit it. I looked like a shapeless hag today. I worked Job #1 in pajamas and was very, very tempted to do the same for Job #2. Instead I stayed in the black t-shirt I slept in, threw on the denim maxi I wore Saturday, my yellow hoodie, some sloppy kohl eyeliner and the Batman chucks. It was bad. When it became evident that I'd have to go out for dinner, I swapped the hoodie for a better-fitting sweater and actually put some makeup on. I guess it was a slight improvement, but let's be real, who am I gonna impress at the Chinese buffet?
It's been 4 days since my 90 days were up. My attorney is waiting on his attorney. That makes me nervous, but I'm trying not to let it really affect me. He would want and expect me to be upset, it's just the kind of passive aggressive mental manipulation he excels at. So, I'm not upset. I'm just living my life a day at a time. Any more than that and I think I'd collapse under the pressure of just being alive.
Yes, just one day at a time. Monday is almost over...what will Tuesday bring?
Saturday, March 24, 2012
The New & The Nostalgic
I sewed for the first time today. Nothing fancy, just a couple of basic seams and a dart. It was fun! I can't wait to learn more. It's the perfect kind of mind numbing repetitive activity that gets me out of the cesspool of negativity I usually refer to as my brain.
I bought a denim maxi skirt last night. Not usually my style, but I liked it, and honestly, who's keeping tabs? I wore it today with a t-shirt I bought a week or so ago. I also wore the coral lipglaze that I had intended to wear yesterday. Obviously, I'm in a better mood.
I was feeling nostalgic tonight and looked up Park, a band I haven't listened to in way too long. Listening to them takes me back a few years...specifically to the summer where all I did was listen to music, find new music, go to shows, hung out with my friend's band, worked for the aforementioned band...everything I did had to do with music. It was one of the best summers I've ever had.
I'd like to be as happy as I was that summer. I was surrounded by people I loved and music that made me happy. I was living my passion. That's what I need to be doing with my life - living my passion. I just with I could make up my mind as to what that is, exactly.
I bought a denim maxi skirt last night. Not usually my style, but I liked it, and honestly, who's keeping tabs? I wore it today with a t-shirt I bought a week or so ago. I also wore the coral lipglaze that I had intended to wear yesterday. Obviously, I'm in a better mood.
I was feeling nostalgic tonight and looked up Park, a band I haven't listened to in way too long. Listening to them takes me back a few years...specifically to the summer where all I did was listen to music, find new music, go to shows, hung out with my friend's band, worked for the aforementioned band...everything I did had to do with music. It was one of the best summers I've ever had.
I'd like to be as happy as I was that summer. I was surrounded by people I loved and music that made me happy. I was living my passion. That's what I need to be doing with my life - living my passion. I just with I could make up my mind as to what that is, exactly.
Friday, March 23, 2012
A Grave Reality.
Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself
And covered with a perfect shell
Such a charming, beautiful exterior
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
Perfect posture, but you're barely scraping by
But you're barely scraping by
This is one time, this is one time
That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all...or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee,
The places that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself
And hidden in the public eye
Such a stellar monument to loneliness
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
Perfect make-up, but you're barely scraping by
But you're barely scraping by...
Well this is one time, well this is one time
That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all...or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee,
The places that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
And you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all..or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee,
The places that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
-The Places That You've Come to Fear the Most by Dashboard Confessional.
The first time I heard this song I was a sophomore in college. My friend Johnny was trying to get the chords right on his guitar. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember thinking how absurd it was that this guy (the songwriter, not my friend) knew exactly how I felt...how I've felt my entire life. That was ten years ago, and it's still the story of my life.
Let's take today, for example. I was invited to lunch today with a group of ladies from church. I woke up so anxious I felt sick. I worried about what I was going to wear, how I would do my hair and how I was going to do my makeup. I even practiced the makeup the night before. Is that sad or what? I ended up changing everything I had planned. I was going to wear colors and a fun coral shade of Revlon lipglaze...but my mood dictated that I wear something more appropriate to how I felt, or I'd just end up feeling worse. So head to toe black it was, complete with the usual liquid eyeliner and red lips. I always say I feel better when I wear red lipstick...I wish I could say that was the case today. Instead, I panicked so badly I made myself sick to my stomach. Once the group arrived, it was all charm and smiles as usual, and as soon as I left, it was back to feeling terrible.
A charming exterior, a brilliant smile and perfect makeup. It really is a grave. When you build such high walls, no one bothers to look over them to see what's inside, and what's worse, if you tell them, they don't believe you. FYI, comments like "You don't look bipolar" and "You?! You're so normal!" can ruin a person.
I tried. I really did. I didn't want to accept the lunch invitation in the first place, but I did, and I actually showed up. While I'm somewhat proud of myself for that, it was so painful that I don't want to do it ever again. Trying hurts. I want to stay buried. I don't need anyone, I don't want anyone, I'm so much better off alone in my little hole.
When I was little I used to bury myself deep in the blankets and cover my head but just left just enough space to be able to breathe and take a peek around if I wanted to. Part of the reason was because I'm a little claustrophobic and was afraid of suffocating, but the other reason was because while I wanted the blankets to make me feel safe and secure, I still wanted to be able to connect to the outside world if I had to.
If that's not some kind of crazy psychological foreshadowing, I don't know what is. I just want to feel safe and secure, with the world close enough (but not too close), just in case I need it. Somewhere along the way, I began to dig my protective grave. I feel like I'm hanging on to the edge, feet dangling and nose poking out into the world.
I hit the pj's before taking a picture tonight. Sorry. The makeup's not so perfect anymore, and I probably have bags the size of New Guinea under my eyes.
And covered with a perfect shell
Such a charming, beautiful exterior
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
Perfect posture, but you're barely scraping by
But you're barely scraping by
This is one time, this is one time
That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all...or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee,
The places that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself
And hidden in the public eye
Such a stellar monument to loneliness
Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
Perfect make-up, but you're barely scraping by
But you're barely scraping by...
Well this is one time, well this is one time
That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all...or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee,
The places that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
And you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone
Or anyone at all..or anyone at all
And the grave that you refuse to leave
The refuge that you've built to flee,
The places that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you've come to fear the most,
Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
-The Places That You've Come to Fear the Most by Dashboard Confessional.
The first time I heard this song I was a sophomore in college. My friend Johnny was trying to get the chords right on his guitar. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember thinking how absurd it was that this guy (the songwriter, not my friend) knew exactly how I felt...how I've felt my entire life. That was ten years ago, and it's still the story of my life.
Let's take today, for example. I was invited to lunch today with a group of ladies from church. I woke up so anxious I felt sick. I worried about what I was going to wear, how I would do my hair and how I was going to do my makeup. I even practiced the makeup the night before. Is that sad or what? I ended up changing everything I had planned. I was going to wear colors and a fun coral shade of Revlon lipglaze...but my mood dictated that I wear something more appropriate to how I felt, or I'd just end up feeling worse. So head to toe black it was, complete with the usual liquid eyeliner and red lips. I always say I feel better when I wear red lipstick...I wish I could say that was the case today. Instead, I panicked so badly I made myself sick to my stomach. Once the group arrived, it was all charm and smiles as usual, and as soon as I left, it was back to feeling terrible.
A charming exterior, a brilliant smile and perfect makeup. It really is a grave. When you build such high walls, no one bothers to look over them to see what's inside, and what's worse, if you tell them, they don't believe you. FYI, comments like "You don't look bipolar" and "You?! You're so normal!" can ruin a person.
I tried. I really did. I didn't want to accept the lunch invitation in the first place, but I did, and I actually showed up. While I'm somewhat proud of myself for that, it was so painful that I don't want to do it ever again. Trying hurts. I want to stay buried. I don't need anyone, I don't want anyone, I'm so much better off alone in my little hole.
When I was little I used to bury myself deep in the blankets and cover my head but just left just enough space to be able to breathe and take a peek around if I wanted to. Part of the reason was because I'm a little claustrophobic and was afraid of suffocating, but the other reason was because while I wanted the blankets to make me feel safe and secure, I still wanted to be able to connect to the outside world if I had to.
If that's not some kind of crazy psychological foreshadowing, I don't know what is. I just want to feel safe and secure, with the world close enough (but not too close), just in case I need it. Somewhere along the way, I began to dig my protective grave. I feel like I'm hanging on to the edge, feet dangling and nose poking out into the world.
I hit the pj's before taking a picture tonight. Sorry. The makeup's not so perfect anymore, and I probably have bags the size of New Guinea under my eyes.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Uh...
It was a beautiful day today, so I walked home from Job #2. About halfway there, the bottom part of my left heel broke. The nail wore right through and the sole came off.
How's that for symbolism? I wore my wedding shoes as a celebration of the end, and one broke. I'm pretty sure it was a sign that I need to ditch the shoes and move on with my life.
There's also a good chance that someone was telling me that my un-pedicured feet are not worthy of peep toes.
How's that for symbolism? I wore my wedding shoes as a celebration of the end, and one broke. I'm pretty sure it was a sign that I need to ditch the shoes and move on with my life.
There's also a good chance that someone was telling me that my un-pedicured feet are not worthy of peep toes.
I normally don't blog during business hours, but...
It's Day 90. I no longer have to wait for my divorce. When all of the papers are in order, I can march right up to a judge, have him/her sign it, and be on my merry, SINGLE, way.
Today I am wearing my wedding heels as a celebration of the end of my wait and a statement that I won't let him ruin perfectly cute shoes.
Pandora is playing my wedding song. Again.
The good news? Every time I hear it, it's less of a shock.
I win.
Today I am wearing my wedding heels as a celebration of the end of my wait and a statement that I won't let him ruin perfectly cute shoes.
Pandora is playing my wedding song. Again.
The good news? Every time I hear it, it's less of a shock.
I win.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Dear Readers
Some days I wonder why I bother because it's not like I say anything of real substance. Occasionally I have a profound thought, but I wonder if the profundity is negated by its narcissistic nature. Can narcissism be profound? Let's face it, right now I'm the queen of narcissism. I have a blog thats sole purpose is to discuss and analyze myself. It's therapeutic though, so does it count? I'm not sure if there's a place for me in the "blogosphere." I don't fill my time baking, or decorating, or refinishing furniture, or anything that useful people blog about.
And yet, it would appear that people read this. People besides my mother. The statistics just boggle my mind. Any time that I look at the stats and see that the page has had any number of hits (that weren't my own), I'm simultaneously ecstatic and confused. I mean, someone (that'd be you) is reading this! My thoughts and feelings and ramblings and outfits have been seen by people I don't know, and I think that's kinda cool.
You're all getting to know me...I hope I don't scare anyone off. Feel free to speak up once and a while!
Thank you for reading :)
Love, Bekah
And yet, it would appear that people read this. People besides my mother. The statistics just boggle my mind. Any time that I look at the stats and see that the page has had any number of hits (that weren't my own), I'm simultaneously ecstatic and confused. I mean, someone (that'd be you) is reading this! My thoughts and feelings and ramblings and outfits have been seen by people I don't know, and I think that's kinda cool.
You're all getting to know me...I hope I don't scare anyone off. Feel free to speak up once and a while!
Thank you for reading :)
Love, Bekah
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Get Away
This weekend my parents and I went to upstate New York. It was nice to get away.
We left yesterday afternoon. Our first destination was a town called Skaneateles (pronounced "skinny-atlas"). On our way there, my mom received the following text: "[niece] is in the bathtub and I was washing my hands and she goes "save me, save me" and I looked at her and she's pointing "right there" and she had taken a dump in the bathtub." You may have figured that out from my last post...just thought I'd give the details.
By the time the hilarity, shock, and digust wore off, we arrived in Skaneateles. It was quaint; right next to a lake, and chock full of small shops that could've kept me entertained for days. The main attraction was this antique store (I forgot the name) that had two floors full of stuff, though I never made it past the lower level. In fact, I didn't make it out of a corner on the lower level...because I found a stockpile of cheap, vintage clothes in nearly mint condition. After perusing the racks and weighing my options carefully, I ended up buying a furry black dress coat from the 70s for $17.50. It's in immaculate condition. There's just one thing...after buying it, I noticed that the label says to clean "using furrier method only." There's no other label, so I don't know what it's made out of! The wording of the label makes me nervous...because there's a chance that I just bought fur, like, real fur from who knows what kind of animal. If any of it is real, I think it would only be the collar. The rest of it is kind of a soft, matted woolly type of material and I can't imagine what it would be from, so I've decided that it's fake. But the collar...who knows.
After Skaneateles, we drove up to the Palmyra area, where we were staying. We had dinner in a nearby town; it was good but made me sick. I had facial/mani/pedi plans last night and because I felt so ill, I didn't do any of it except pathetically have my mom paint my nails.
This morning, we went to the Palmyra temple, and afterwards walked through "downtown" Palmyra, where we found more treasures. I bought a neat looking jump rope for $1, a red American Tourister makeup case from the 60s and this:
Fact: I collect teapots. This one was screaming my name the second I walked in the store.
That about sums it up. Now I'm home, and it's loud and lil' niecey-poo won't go to bed. There is nowhere in this house that is quiet. It's really starting to wear on me. It really is motivation to get my stuff together so I can move out.
Good night.
We left yesterday afternoon. Our first destination was a town called Skaneateles (pronounced "skinny-atlas"). On our way there, my mom received the following text: "[niece] is in the bathtub and I was washing my hands and she goes "save me, save me" and I looked at her and she's pointing "right there" and she had taken a dump in the bathtub." You may have figured that out from my last post...just thought I'd give the details.
By the time the hilarity, shock, and digust wore off, we arrived in Skaneateles. It was quaint; right next to a lake, and chock full of small shops that could've kept me entertained for days. The main attraction was this antique store (I forgot the name) that had two floors full of stuff, though I never made it past the lower level. In fact, I didn't make it out of a corner on the lower level...because I found a stockpile of cheap, vintage clothes in nearly mint condition. After perusing the racks and weighing my options carefully, I ended up buying a furry black dress coat from the 70s for $17.50. It's in immaculate condition. There's just one thing...after buying it, I noticed that the label says to clean "using furrier method only." There's no other label, so I don't know what it's made out of! The wording of the label makes me nervous...because there's a chance that I just bought fur, like, real fur from who knows what kind of animal. If any of it is real, I think it would only be the collar. The rest of it is kind of a soft, matted woolly type of material and I can't imagine what it would be from, so I've decided that it's fake. But the collar...who knows.
After Skaneateles, we drove up to the Palmyra area, where we were staying. We had dinner in a nearby town; it was good but made me sick. I had facial/mani/pedi plans last night and because I felt so ill, I didn't do any of it except pathetically have my mom paint my nails.
This morning, we went to the Palmyra temple, and afterwards walked through "downtown" Palmyra, where we found more treasures. I bought a neat looking jump rope for $1, a red American Tourister makeup case from the 60s and this:
Fact: I collect teapots. This one was screaming my name the second I walked in the store.
That about sums it up. Now I'm home, and it's loud and lil' niecey-poo won't go to bed. There is nowhere in this house that is quiet. It's really starting to wear on me. It really is motivation to get my stuff together so I can move out.
Good night.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Seriously?!
Few things in life are as distressing as finding out that someone pooped in your tub.
I don't care that it was a very small someone, a turd is a turd.
As if I don't have enough to worry about.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
It Feels Weird to Type "I Love You."
A funny thing happened today. Out of the clear blue, my niece yells out, "Bekah! I love you!"
Um, ok.
I think I said that out loud, too. Closely followed by "thank you."
If that seems like a strange interaction, I guess I should explain.
I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've said "I love you" to any member of my immediate family in the last ten years. I have a hard time with it. It's not that I don't, I just can't say it. I feel stupid and vulnerable and self-conscious and like I'm being judged. I don't really care for the whole lovey-touchy-feely-brady-bunchy thing. It's most likely from the fact that I don't (and haven't ever) deemed myself worthy to give and receive love, blah blah blah. *sigh*
I'm not a horrible person, I swear. I just have issues.
Sorry family, don't take it personally. I probably need a lot more therapy to break through that one.
Speaking of family, I wore one of my grandmother's necklaces (Mima, my mom's mom). It's a silver bib necklace. I know the whole bib necklace thing is "in" right now but I didn't really know how to wear it. I had a hunch, but I'm ashamed to say, the other day I googled how to wear one. Turns out, I was right, you either have a low enough neckline to not interfere, or a high enough neckline to make your shirt a backdrop. And you keep the accessories to a minimum. I tried it:
And here's the whole outfit. Shoes and shrug provided by my sister. Although she didn't know that when I got dressed.
I need sleep.
Um, ok.
I think I said that out loud, too. Closely followed by "thank you."
If that seems like a strange interaction, I guess I should explain.
I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've said "I love you" to any member of my immediate family in the last ten years. I have a hard time with it. It's not that I don't, I just can't say it. I feel stupid and vulnerable and self-conscious and like I'm being judged. I don't really care for the whole lovey-touchy-feely-brady-bunchy thing. It's most likely from the fact that I don't (and haven't ever) deemed myself worthy to give and receive love, blah blah blah. *sigh*
I'm not a horrible person, I swear. I just have issues.
Sorry family, don't take it personally. I probably need a lot more therapy to break through that one.
Speaking of family, I wore one of my grandmother's necklaces (Mima, my mom's mom). It's a silver bib necklace. I know the whole bib necklace thing is "in" right now but I didn't really know how to wear it. I had a hunch, but I'm ashamed to say, the other day I googled how to wear one. Turns out, I was right, you either have a low enough neckline to not interfere, or a high enough neckline to make your shirt a backdrop. And you keep the accessories to a minimum. I tried it:
 |
I need sleep.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Gotye!
No, that is not olde english for "gotcha!" It is the name of my new musical love affair.
The song "Somebody That I Used to Know" is amazing. Take a gander at the lyrics:
Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember
You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end
Always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done
And I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know...
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
I used to know
That I used to know
Somebody...
-Gotye (aka Wally De Backer)
----
The bold/italic verse is sheer perfection. Especially since it's rare for me to capture the pernicious existence of his ex-girlfriend in most songs I see my relationship in. Oh, haven't I mentioned her yet? Long story short, if I wanted, I could've had a divorce handed to me a gold platter last year because someone (hint: it's not me) is an adulterer. This verse, appropriately enough, is sung by a female.
Even though the rest of the song is from the male perspective, I still identify with it...I was going to pick out sections, but really, it's everything. Except the parts about being ignored and treated like a stranger. I'm happy about all that. I don't ever want to know about him or hear about him ever, ever again. I'm making myself ill just thinking about it. He is just somebody that I used to know.
I saw my psychiatrist today. He's great. He asked me about any future plans for husband and family, and validated/agreed with me when I promptly said I don't trust anyone and that at least for now, life is all about me. I'm working, saving money, and trying to get my head together so I can get my life together.
You know, I've never lived alone? Ever since I was a little girl, all I wanted out of life was my own apartment and a cat. I have the cat. Now I need an apartment. With red walls. And a room I can dedicate to the creation of art. That has been my vision since I was a kid, and I'm going to accomplish it and many other things before I get all wrapped up in this whole "love" bit.
Perfecting my cat-eye eyeliner is fairly high on the list:
Actually, I've been working on that since my discovery of eyeliner, and I'm just getting it down now. Sad.
Today, I showed the world my love of diet coke.
I put this picture on Facebook and it caused a bit of a stir...probably because no one's seen me post anything on my own page since last year. I'm proud of myself for taking the plunge and posting it, but I'm a little nervous that something bad will come of it.
On my bottom half was my black pleated chiffon skirt and t-strap flats. Nothing like mixing casual, dressy and comfy.
That concludes tonights edition of Skirting My Issues. Where will my exciting life take me next?
The kitchen. (To clean, not to eat.)
The song "Somebody That I Used to Know" is amazing. Take a gander at the lyrics:
Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember
You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end
Always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done
And I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know...
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
I used to know
That I used to know
Somebody...
-Gotye (aka Wally De Backer)
----
The bold/italic verse is sheer perfection. Especially since it's rare for me to capture the pernicious existence of his ex-girlfriend in most songs I see my relationship in. Oh, haven't I mentioned her yet? Long story short, if I wanted, I could've had a divorce handed to me a gold platter last year because someone (hint: it's not me) is an adulterer. This verse, appropriately enough, is sung by a female.
Even though the rest of the song is from the male perspective, I still identify with it...I was going to pick out sections, but really, it's everything. Except the parts about being ignored and treated like a stranger. I'm happy about all that. I don't ever want to know about him or hear about him ever, ever again. I'm making myself ill just thinking about it. He is just somebody that I used to know.
I saw my psychiatrist today. He's great. He asked me about any future plans for husband and family, and validated/agreed with me when I promptly said I don't trust anyone and that at least for now, life is all about me. I'm working, saving money, and trying to get my head together so I can get my life together.
You know, I've never lived alone? Ever since I was a little girl, all I wanted out of life was my own apartment and a cat. I have the cat. Now I need an apartment. With red walls. And a room I can dedicate to the creation of art. That has been my vision since I was a kid, and I'm going to accomplish it and many other things before I get all wrapped up in this whole "love" bit.
Perfecting my cat-eye eyeliner is fairly high on the list:
 |
| This was yesterday. It was a good eyeliner day. |
Today, I showed the world my love of diet coke.
On my bottom half was my black pleated chiffon skirt and t-strap flats. Nothing like mixing casual, dressy and comfy.
That concludes tonights edition of Skirting My Issues. Where will my exciting life take me next?
The kitchen. (To clean, not to eat.)
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
Scenes From an Italian Restaurant
Tonight I went out to dinner with my dad. We went to an italian place that reminds me of a place where I used to work. We both order meals that come with soup or salad. About 2 minutes after the server leaves, she returns with my salad and tells my dad that his soup will be out shortly, that they make it as they go. 10-15 minutes go by. No soup. Just as my dad is reaching is soup/patience threshold, the server comes back and says it'll be right out. Thankfully, the soup arrives minutes later, steaming hot, with a basket of garlic bread to accompany it, but before we finished our soup/salad (and I got a head start...I eat slowly), our meals arrived. My sauce had a slight skin on it and my dad's wasn't that hot.
Sound familiar?
Here's what happened. My dad thought that perhaps she forgot about the soup, but not so. She was writing our order on a guest check, the kind that has duplicates; one copy for the kitchen, and one copy for the server to give to the guest. She wrote down the kind of soup that was ordered. That slip went directly to the kitchen, there was no computer to enter anything into, no middleman of any kind. When she came out with only my salad and said that she makes it herself, this tells me that she has nothing to do with the soup, that the kitchen really does heat each order as it comes. The inordinate amount of time for the soup to come out tells me that the kitchen most likely ran out of that particular soup and needed to get more from the walk-in cooler or wherever they keep the extra soup. This means that they would have had to heat it up from being cold, instead of the warm soup that's kept on hand on the stove or a steam table. While the soup is being heated, they continued to prepare our entrees as if the soup was going out in a regular amount of time. So when the soup finally went out, our dinners were finished and under a heat lamp. They weren't there long though, so it wasn't too bad. And they brought them out in the nick of time or they would've gotten pretty ugly.
It's totally acceptable to heat soup to order. It's not ok to start cooking that table's entrees when you're scrambling to find more soup. As for the server, she was nice and polite enough, but you never bring out only one person's food if you can help it. Being as she makes her own salads, she could help it. It would've also been nice if she told us what was going on. Customers like to be kept in the loop. I appreciated the fact that the entree came out quickly because that means it wasn't sitting too long.
The moral of the story? I'm not sure. Probably that I was in the restaurant business for too long and now I can pick out anything that's going on around me when I'm out. Oh well.
Even with the hiccups, it was a decent meal. Lobster ravioli w/ vodka sauce...yummy. And my dad still tipped 20%. I've trained him well.
Oh. And I hate Billy Joel.
Sound familiar?
Here's what happened. My dad thought that perhaps she forgot about the soup, but not so. She was writing our order on a guest check, the kind that has duplicates; one copy for the kitchen, and one copy for the server to give to the guest. She wrote down the kind of soup that was ordered. That slip went directly to the kitchen, there was no computer to enter anything into, no middleman of any kind. When she came out with only my salad and said that she makes it herself, this tells me that she has nothing to do with the soup, that the kitchen really does heat each order as it comes. The inordinate amount of time for the soup to come out tells me that the kitchen most likely ran out of that particular soup and needed to get more from the walk-in cooler or wherever they keep the extra soup. This means that they would have had to heat it up from being cold, instead of the warm soup that's kept on hand on the stove or a steam table. While the soup is being heated, they continued to prepare our entrees as if the soup was going out in a regular amount of time. So when the soup finally went out, our dinners were finished and under a heat lamp. They weren't there long though, so it wasn't too bad. And they brought them out in the nick of time or they would've gotten pretty ugly.
It's totally acceptable to heat soup to order. It's not ok to start cooking that table's entrees when you're scrambling to find more soup. As for the server, she was nice and polite enough, but you never bring out only one person's food if you can help it. Being as she makes her own salads, she could help it. It would've also been nice if she told us what was going on. Customers like to be kept in the loop. I appreciated the fact that the entree came out quickly because that means it wasn't sitting too long.
The moral of the story? I'm not sure. Probably that I was in the restaurant business for too long and now I can pick out anything that's going on around me when I'm out. Oh well.
Even with the hiccups, it was a decent meal. Lobster ravioli w/ vodka sauce...yummy. And my dad still tipped 20%. I've trained him well.
Oh. And I hate Billy Joel.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Tolerance.
I know that God exists.
You know that he doesn't.
I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree.
This doesn't make me (or my family) unintelligent. I am not stupid, or a less important person than you, no more than you are more important than I.
That is all.
You know that he doesn't.
I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree.
This doesn't make me (or my family) unintelligent. I am not stupid, or a less important person than you, no more than you are more important than I.
That is all.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Epic Fail.
First off, this morning, I had bouncy, curly hair. Now, it's just hanging there, with only the slightest hint of curl at the end. You'd never know I spent 20 minutes in hot rollers this morning. They never work and I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong. When I pin curl my hair, it stays all day. I don't get it.
Second, I sat in a parking lot for 10 minutes before remembering that I do not, in fact, have therapy today.
Third, I spent my afternoon creating a label for urine remover. Welcome to the carpet cleaning world, folks. Pee is a problem.
Fourth, fifth & sixth, I have a headache, I haven't eaten dinner yet, and I'm cranky.
Second, I sat in a parking lot for 10 minutes before remembering that I do not, in fact, have therapy today.
Third, I spent my afternoon creating a label for urine remover. Welcome to the carpet cleaning world, folks. Pee is a problem.
Fourth, fifth & sixth, I have a headache, I haven't eaten dinner yet, and I'm cranky.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Black & White Photos Hide Blemishes...
But not under-eye bags caused by inordinate amounts of anxiety. *sigh*
I spent some quality time with my hair this morning.
Here we have a big barrel roll. Behind the bandana, it's just up in a bun. I attempted a big puffy ponytail, but my hair was too thin. It was fun to do, and not that hard! With a little practice and the right products, I could probably get it a little less fuzzy.
My outfit today was pretty basic. Black shirt with ruching on the sides, denim pencil skirt, stockings, black heels. You should congratulate me for not wearing head to toe black. Go ahead, I'll wait.
Oh, and you can bet that's bright red lipstick. There's something about red lipstick that makes me feel like a million bucks. Same thing with my hair...I feel so great when I play with it and create different styles. I especially feel accomplished and that I'm doing something that is just for me, even though the rest of the world can see it.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm reclaiming myself. You can't have it anymore.
16 days. There is a light at the end of the tunnel...freedom awaits.
I spent some quality time with my hair this morning.
Here we have a big barrel roll. Behind the bandana, it's just up in a bun. I attempted a big puffy ponytail, but my hair was too thin. It was fun to do, and not that hard! With a little practice and the right products, I could probably get it a little less fuzzy.
My outfit today was pretty basic. Black shirt with ruching on the sides, denim pencil skirt, stockings, black heels. You should congratulate me for not wearing head to toe black. Go ahead, I'll wait.
Oh, and you can bet that's bright red lipstick. There's something about red lipstick that makes me feel like a million bucks. Same thing with my hair...I feel so great when I play with it and create different styles. I especially feel accomplished and that I'm doing something that is just for me, even though the rest of the world can see it.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm reclaiming myself. You can't have it anymore.
16 days. There is a light at the end of the tunnel...freedom awaits.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Beauty Rituals
Due to a blog-related crisis, I didn't take a bath because it got to be too late. (The crisis was resolved) I did take a quick shower though, and painted my nails as planned.
I also did a peel-off mask treatment. That was like all the fun of sunburn without the pain. It was awesome.
There's something very soothing about these little beauty rituals. They make me feel great. I really need to get into the habit of doing stuff like this more often.
Plague!
Well, not exactly. Everyone in my house is sick with a massive cold...except for me. My sister is just getting over it, my dad just got it again, my niece got it the other night, my mom succumbed yesterday, and here I am, completely healthy. Physically, at least. It's quite obvious that my mental health needs work.
A while back I had said that March was going to be a big month for a bunch of reasons. Well, the first reason arrived on Thursday, March 1. Baby best friend was born at 11:40, perfectly healthy, without so much as a birthmark. I realize it's 4 days later, I apologize for the delay. I was actually at the hospital when she was born, keeping one of the new Grandpas and the little uncle (he's 9) company in the waiting room. It was a great day, but exhausting, and I wasn't even the one giving birth!
Next up on the list of March events - other best friend's baby hits 6 months! It's funny, because these two best friends are 8 months apart, and now their kids are almost 6 months apart. I think that's neat.
The most exciting thing to happen this month? I CAN GET DIVORCED! 17 days until the 90 day waiting period is up. My papers are eligible to be seen by a judge on March 22. I am praying that it happens quickly and smoothly. I can't wait to be free.
This morning, I put on my black pencil skirt, net tights, mustard yellow tshirt with the embellishment on the neckline (tucked in), black patent belt and heels. Straight hair, neutral makeup, simple gold jewelry. I thought I looked decent, but then I got home from Job #2 and looked awful...from the shoulders down at least. My makeup was still flawless. I've gotten pretty good at it, if I say so myself. Anyway, I didn't like what I saw, so I didn't take a picture.
I'm excited to try new hair ideas tomorrow...but right now, I'm going to take a bath and paint my nails. Maybe not in that order.
A while back I had said that March was going to be a big month for a bunch of reasons. Well, the first reason arrived on Thursday, March 1. Baby best friend was born at 11:40, perfectly healthy, without so much as a birthmark. I realize it's 4 days later, I apologize for the delay. I was actually at the hospital when she was born, keeping one of the new Grandpas and the little uncle (he's 9) company in the waiting room. It was a great day, but exhausting, and I wasn't even the one giving birth!
Next up on the list of March events - other best friend's baby hits 6 months! It's funny, because these two best friends are 8 months apart, and now their kids are almost 6 months apart. I think that's neat.
The most exciting thing to happen this month? I CAN GET DIVORCED! 17 days until the 90 day waiting period is up. My papers are eligible to be seen by a judge on March 22. I am praying that it happens quickly and smoothly. I can't wait to be free.
This morning, I put on my black pencil skirt, net tights, mustard yellow tshirt with the embellishment on the neckline (tucked in), black patent belt and heels. Straight hair, neutral makeup, simple gold jewelry. I thought I looked decent, but then I got home from Job #2 and looked awful...from the shoulders down at least. My makeup was still flawless. I've gotten pretty good at it, if I say so myself. Anyway, I didn't like what I saw, so I didn't take a picture.
I'm excited to try new hair ideas tomorrow...but right now, I'm going to take a bath and paint my nails. Maybe not in that order.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Finally, Some Real Introspection
So, it's
dawned on me that when I named my blog "Skirting My Issues," I wasn't just being
cute. Of course, I didn't know that at the time. Back in December when I set the
whole thing up, I thought I was the wittiest girl ever. Turns out, I'm just a
nitwit.
See, the reality is, I actually am skirting my issues. In the 4 months that have elapsed since my escape from the hell I sometimes refer to as "marriage," I have conquered very few of my issues. As a matter of fact, I'm getting worse. I cover it up with a red-lipped smile and sparkling, perfectly mascara-ed eyes, and if I didn't tell you that I was crumbling on the inside, you would never know. In fact just this past Tuesday I panicked my way through a church activity that I not only was deemed "team leader" for, but won the challenge against the other team, and then afterwards, was given a new assignment (to be disclosed at a later date) that I was completely unprepared for. It all happened with a smile and a giggle, but if you looked closely, you may have been able to tell that I was having trouble breathing and couldn't stop fidgeting. Or maybe not. I don't know. I do know that no one called me out on it.
So how do I do it? I haven't the slightest idea. I'm really open about my mental health, my anxiety and my PTSD and people admire that but, I'm so calm when I'm talking about it that chances are, they don't believe me.
I know how to analyze my behavior. I know all the right psychobabblejargon to describe myself. I even know my diagnosis number. But what do I do with that information? Sure, I know that when I'm overwhelmed I short circuit and go absolutely crazy. So what? Time after time I prove that I'm useless when it comes to positive coping mechanisms. Why go for a walk when I could just bleed and get it all over with, right? Wrong. I don't want to be like this anymore, I don't want to be "crazy." I don't want to be reminded of my failures as a daughter, as a sister, as a wife, as a friend, as a person...the only function in life I haven't failed yet is being an aunt. Give it time.
Forgive me if I don't want to hear my sister arguing over the phone with her husband - yes, husband, not ex, not soon-to-be ex (because there isn't even a lawyer involved yet), husband - about who knows what. You know what, I don't care. I'm sorry. I'm trying to reconstruct myself as a person because my husband destroyed me, and you're fighting about diaper rash?
I don't want to do it anymore! I feel like my niece. I want to stamp my feet and scream at the top of my lungs and tell everyone "NO!" and to go away. I had the house to myself for a little while tonight...it was blissful. Cupcakes (baking, not eating), some Florence + the Machine, and Bride Day on TLC, and I was happy. Enter my sister, an angry brother-in-law, and a rambunctious niece and the peace was gone faster than a prostitute's morals. I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and never come out. I'm so tired.
Therapist thinks the pressure will continue to built until the divorce is over. I hope not. I freaked out a week ago and have been depressed for weeks now...it's ridiculous. I'm happy about this divorce, thrilled even! I mean, I threw myself into traffic, overdosed and sliced open my wrist, all in attempts to get away from this guy and his torture...I jumped out of cars and stayed with perfect strangers to get away from him. He tore me apart and played mind games...I didn't deserve it, but...
Why do I still feel like it's my fault? Like I could've done something different, you know? What if I hadn't tried to kill myself in August? Or July? Or May? What if I had done something differently in 2010 that didn't result in the first separation? What if I had left the very first time he hit me? What if I had never met him in the first place? I wish I had never met him. There isn't the tiniest shred of light left in him. I don't know what happened, but he got darker as a person from the time I met him til the time I left. And that brings me to Florence.
There is a song on the album "Ceremonials" that sums it up. It's called "No Light, No Light." It covers it all - the darkness in the other individual, the desperation to try to make it right, the demanding for a resolution from the other person...here are the lyrics:
You are the hole in my head
You are the space in my bed
You are the silence in between what I thought
And what I said
You are the night time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
When it's over you'll start
You're my head
You're my heart
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say
Through the crowd, I was crying out
And in your place there were a thousand other faces
I was disappearing in plain sight
Heaven help me, I need to make it right
You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You want a revelation
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day,
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say
Would you leave me,
If I told you what I've done?
And would you need me,
If I told you what I've become?
'cause it's so easy,
To say it to a crowd
But it's so hard, my love,
To say it to you alone
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day,
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say
You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You want a revelation
You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation, some kind of resolution
Tell me what you want me to say.
-Florence + the Machine
I'm in love with the song. I need to dance to it. It describes everything, THAT was my relationship. He demanded the impossible from me, I couldn't do it. I did everything I could imagine to make him happy, nothing worked. I finally gave up and just asked what he wanted me to do/say. That didn't even work.
I'm so tired of picking up pieces of things I didn't break.
To tie it all together, I've been skirting my issues for a long time...and it took deciding to wear a skirt for a year and starting a blog for me to figure it out. All this time I thought I was making progress. I used to think that my freakouts and mental deterioration were merely consequences of my life's decisions. I've changed my ways and habits...but I'm still a mess. And that's a lot to swallow when you think that you're all better because you have a few pills and life is pretty tame. This whole healing process hurts, and is uglier than the current state of my eyebrows.
Good night.
See, the reality is, I actually am skirting my issues. In the 4 months that have elapsed since my escape from the hell I sometimes refer to as "marriage," I have conquered very few of my issues. As a matter of fact, I'm getting worse. I cover it up with a red-lipped smile and sparkling, perfectly mascara-ed eyes, and if I didn't tell you that I was crumbling on the inside, you would never know. In fact just this past Tuesday I panicked my way through a church activity that I not only was deemed "team leader" for, but won the challenge against the other team, and then afterwards, was given a new assignment (to be disclosed at a later date) that I was completely unprepared for. It all happened with a smile and a giggle, but if you looked closely, you may have been able to tell that I was having trouble breathing and couldn't stop fidgeting. Or maybe not. I don't know. I do know that no one called me out on it.
So how do I do it? I haven't the slightest idea. I'm really open about my mental health, my anxiety and my PTSD and people admire that but, I'm so calm when I'm talking about it that chances are, they don't believe me.
I know how to analyze my behavior. I know all the right psychobabblejargon to describe myself. I even know my diagnosis number. But what do I do with that information? Sure, I know that when I'm overwhelmed I short circuit and go absolutely crazy. So what? Time after time I prove that I'm useless when it comes to positive coping mechanisms. Why go for a walk when I could just bleed and get it all over with, right? Wrong. I don't want to be like this anymore, I don't want to be "crazy." I don't want to be reminded of my failures as a daughter, as a sister, as a wife, as a friend, as a person...the only function in life I haven't failed yet is being an aunt. Give it time.
Forgive me if I don't want to hear my sister arguing over the phone with her husband - yes, husband, not ex, not soon-to-be ex (because there isn't even a lawyer involved yet), husband - about who knows what. You know what, I don't care. I'm sorry. I'm trying to reconstruct myself as a person because my husband destroyed me, and you're fighting about diaper rash?
I don't want to do it anymore! I feel like my niece. I want to stamp my feet and scream at the top of my lungs and tell everyone "NO!" and to go away. I had the house to myself for a little while tonight...it was blissful. Cupcakes (baking, not eating), some Florence + the Machine, and Bride Day on TLC, and I was happy. Enter my sister, an angry brother-in-law, and a rambunctious niece and the peace was gone faster than a prostitute's morals. I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and never come out. I'm so tired.
Therapist thinks the pressure will continue to built until the divorce is over. I hope not. I freaked out a week ago and have been depressed for weeks now...it's ridiculous. I'm happy about this divorce, thrilled even! I mean, I threw myself into traffic, overdosed and sliced open my wrist, all in attempts to get away from this guy and his torture...I jumped out of cars and stayed with perfect strangers to get away from him. He tore me apart and played mind games...I didn't deserve it, but...
Why do I still feel like it's my fault? Like I could've done something different, you know? What if I hadn't tried to kill myself in August? Or July? Or May? What if I had done something differently in 2010 that didn't result in the first separation? What if I had left the very first time he hit me? What if I had never met him in the first place? I wish I had never met him. There isn't the tiniest shred of light left in him. I don't know what happened, but he got darker as a person from the time I met him til the time I left. And that brings me to Florence.
There is a song on the album "Ceremonials" that sums it up. It's called "No Light, No Light." It covers it all - the darkness in the other individual, the desperation to try to make it right, the demanding for a resolution from the other person...here are the lyrics:
You are the hole in my head
You are the space in my bed
You are the silence in between what I thought
And what I said
You are the night time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
When it's over you'll start
You're my head
You're my heart
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say
Through the crowd, I was crying out
And in your place there were a thousand other faces
I was disappearing in plain sight
Heaven help me, I need to make it right
You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You want a revelation
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day,
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say
Would you leave me,
If I told you what I've done?
And would you need me,
If I told you what I've become?
'cause it's so easy,
To say it to a crowd
But it's so hard, my love,
To say it to you alone
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day,
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say
You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You want a revelation
You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation, some kind of resolution
Tell me what you want me to say.
-Florence + the Machine
I'm in love with the song. I need to dance to it. It describes everything, THAT was my relationship. He demanded the impossible from me, I couldn't do it. I did everything I could imagine to make him happy, nothing worked. I finally gave up and just asked what he wanted me to do/say. That didn't even work.
I'm so tired of picking up pieces of things I didn't break.
To tie it all together, I've been skirting my issues for a long time...and it took deciding to wear a skirt for a year and starting a blog for me to figure it out. All this time I thought I was making progress. I used to think that my freakouts and mental deterioration were merely consequences of my life's decisions. I've changed my ways and habits...but I'm still a mess. And that's a lot to swallow when you think that you're all better because you have a few pills and life is pretty tame. This whole healing process hurts, and is uglier than the current state of my eyebrows.
Good night.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Foam Rollers & Color?
Note to self: do not wear a shower cap over rollers. I need to invest in a hair net.
Besides the unwanted humidity that occured overnight, I'd say the foam rollers weren't a complete failure. The weather completely ruined my hair, but it happens.
Here was my attempt at wearing color:
Please don't judge my ungroomed eyebrow and homemade shirt.
I swear I'll be more colorful tomorrow...and maybe I'll have the presence of mind to talk about something meaningful. Like how I realized that the title of my blog isn't just a cute play on words after all. Chew on that til next time.
Besides the unwanted humidity that occured overnight, I'd say the foam rollers weren't a complete failure. The weather completely ruined my hair, but it happens.
Here was my attempt at wearing color:
 |
| Reddish Eyeshadow! (It's brighter in real life) |
 |
| This was on the back of my tshirt today...bottom left. Underneath (in black) are the numbers 296.89, the DSM - IV number for Bipolar Disorder. |
Please don't judge my ungroomed eyebrow and homemade shirt.
I swear I'll be more colorful tomorrow...and maybe I'll have the presence of mind to talk about something meaningful. Like how I realized that the title of my blog isn't just a cute play on words after all. Chew on that til next time.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Who Says Nothing in Life is Free?
So...you know how the other day I said I discovered Shabby Apple?
Well, today I discovered that they're giving away a dress. Or a skirt. A very cute skirt that I think I would pick if I won.
I have Hyphen Interiors to thank for the discovery of this...go check out her painted chair. It's pretty awesome!
Well, today I discovered that they're giving away a dress. Or a skirt. A very cute skirt that I think I would pick if I won.
I have Hyphen Interiors to thank for the discovery of this...go check out her painted chair. It's pretty awesome!
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