Friday, May 27, 2005
The Man I Used To KnowThere was a man I used to know. A man I used to love, or so I thought, before I really experienced what love is. Our love was like a funnel... no matter how much you put into it, it was never enough. I gave my love so freely, thinking if I could just give a little more, be a little more, then maybe someday I'd fill that funnel up. Pouring myself into him until there was nothing left to give. Eventually I stopped giving, and just fell through, laying in an empty room. Where had all my love gone? It's a sad state a affairs when you look around and realize all you've lost yourself in all your giving. And there's nothing to show but emptiness.
It's hard to love a person who doesn't know how to love you back. Or at least love you the way you need to be loved. I look at his picture now, at a face I memorized, and I don't know who he is. I read his words. He's searching for love. Searching for my love. I wonder why he didn't hide it away. Put it in a box, so after I'd left him, he could open it up and remember how it felt. But he didn't hide it. He couldn't hold onto it, just as he couldn't hold onto me. It bounced off of him and flew away in the wind. And now it's lost. And so is he. Or maybe I'm flattering myself and everything in his life is peaches and cream...
All I know for sure is he is this person with whom I shared so much... And now I look at his picture and he's just a man I used to know.
Love and PoliticsI am a passionate person.
I am passionate about life, love, friendships, food, music, sex, religion, and yes, even politics. I'm passionate about television for god's sake. I think it's the only way to live, to embrace all of these things, explore them and open your mind to new ideas and revelations that might normally come your way. The key is having an open mind.
That is why I don't like Republicans. Yes, I am aware that this is a double standard and, admittedly, a bit closed minded of me. But in my defense, I'm just waiting for one to change my mind. When I hear a group of republicans talk I feel my annoyance level rise. These men (they're always men it seems) rant and rave in loud voices about those "damn liberals" spitting the words out bitterly. I sit and listen to them talk about the crazy ideas... Gay Marriage (make sure you whisper the word "gay" it's sort of like having "cancer" apparently)- why would "those people" care about getting married? Equal rights? Bah. Civil Unions are good enough for "them." And what's with the women complaining? They get to work now. And vote even! I mean, of course they don't make as much money as men, they're women. They're only working until they get married and have babies anyway. The husband is the bread winner. It's the American Way- one nation under God. (with the Capital G. lower case g means your going to hell.)
That has been my experience with many Republicans. Challenging their view means your wrong. The world is black and white. So what about the rest of us who live in the grey? What do we do?
We marry Republicans.
I'm marrying a Republican.
How did this happen? When did I become attracted to this strong, oppinionated, argumentative man? This man who pushes me to the edge of my sanity when we argue, this man who argues with me for fun?!
How? Because he is passionate too. He is smart, educated, and entertaining. He gets worked up over issues in the same way I do, although at times we are on the opposite ends of the spectrum. He knows what he's talking about (unless of course he is pulling his facts from the famous "Josh's Book of Facts" which he frequently brings to the table). Part of the reason I fell in love with this frustrating man is that he can keep up with me. In fact, he often times keeps up with me, passes me, and leaves me breathing in his dust, wondering where he went.
We can argue for hours about certain issues, and even though we know this, we continue to tread on this icy surface, until we crash into the water below, when we finally strike a nerve. But then afterward we both come out dripping wet, freezing and we know the only warmth we have is by holding on to each other.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
A Phoenix and Some UnicornsAll I want is a glass of Pinot Noir.
Throw in a thunderstorm (purely for the fact that my pup behaves because he is terrified of thunder) and my book (Middlesex for anyone who hasn't read it) and I'll call it a night. I've been feeling very nastalgic and emotional today. My hormones feel as though they have been put in a blender and set to "pulse." All mixed up and choppy, like a post-Tsunami sea. My nail beds have become a victim, yet again, of my teeth. They were looking so nice too. But one convoy convo and BAM. Fuck you army, I'll just bite my nails. Passive aggressive you're table's now available...
I emailed my girlfriends this morning. I was looking at the pictures on my desk, then at pictures on such fabulous and wonderous sites such as www.Friendster.com. It made me miss them. I've written about them before... these beautiful creatures that have enchanted my life ever since I met them. Each of them different and unique, but all of them beautiful. Not just on the outside, although that is certainly the first thing you notice about them, but there's a spark of passion in each one of them. I think that's what makes them so intriguing.
In my writing here in the past, I have referred to them as the unicorns to my elephant. But perhaps this analogy is not quite as true. I feel like a phoenix, being reborn from my own ashes, reinventing myself each time I blow up in flames. I'd much rather be a phoenix than an elephant. At least then we're all mythological creatures. Maybe that's our common bond.
Either way, I miss these ladies from my past life more than I miss the peppermint ice cream Eddy's puts out in winter. When I'm writing my book, sometimes I think I ought to start over and write about them, where their lives might lead, all the amazing things they might do. But I'd rather wait it out and see it for myself.
I know we are destined for great things, each of us making our way through the world, laying the stepping stones for our future one rock at time, trying not to fall in the river below. I can only hope our paths are close enough, though, that when we do fall in, someone else is there to help us out.
Lost in the WoodsI woke up this morning with the smell of him in my nose.
That smell of Woods cologne, even though he refuses to set foot into Abercrombie and Fitch to buy it. It didn't smell quite the same though as it does when it's on him, mixed with his body and my kisses. I prefer that smell. I adore the smell of him.
I adore everything about him.
I dreamt last night that I could feel the weight of him next to me, sinking in the mattress until I slip in next to him as I slumber. Tangled in our egyptian cotton sheets that Eddie ruined with his puppy accidents when he was only 10 pounds. 60 pounds later and continents away I wish I had those sheets. I could dress Eddie up in them and spray him with cologne. Force him to lay next to me until I fell asleep.
But then he'd just bite me and my illusion would be ruined.
Eddie is my love. An abusive relationship as it is, I always know he loves me. He always wants to be next to me, near me, close to me. When I leave for just a few minutes he sits at the door, watching me go, and anxious for my return.
I know how he feels.
Monday, May 23, 2005
I Heart WeddingsThis weekend was a much needed 3 day vacation up to Grand Rapids for the wedding of Shaun and Kristie. It was one of the most beautiful weddings I have ever been to. Not because of the flowers or the lighting or fabulous oversized martini glasses (though they were quite a nice touch), but because it was such a joyous occasion. When you walked into the church you could just feel the excitement. It was such a variety of emotions and so uplifting.
I got goosebumps during the ceremony. I got wasted at the reception. I laughed more this weekend than I remember laughing in a long time. I cried a little too. I danced all night. I attended the beginnings of a bachelor party. I ate a fried fish sandwhich in bed with Maggie while we watched "Cheaper by the Dozen." I wore a string bikini. I fell in love with a puggle dog. I ate the unedible rose petals and wore the edible flower in my hair. I pulled the muscles in my neck while head banging. I tried, and failed, to eat 6 saltine crackers in under a minute. I saw more old friends than I assumed I would. And lastly, I was reminded of how beautiful life and love and friendship are.
Congrats to the Arnolds. :)
Thursday, May 19, 2005
100 Things You Need To Know1. I still sleep with a giant doll that my therapist gave me as a kid.
2. I have an insane crush on both Dean Cain and Ani Difranco.
3. I get diarrhea on a daily basis, especially since having my gall bladder removed, and my friends and I refer to my loose stool as- "Princess Di"
4. Jerod Leto and I made eye contact on the streets of New York once. I would have bedded him right there, had he asked. But he didn't.
5. I have an alter ego named Shirley Claire and she comes out only in Muncie.
6. I adore when people play guitar for me.
7. I once caused Kirsten Day to break her nose. (So she says)
8. My roommates and I had fish that comitted suicide by flipping out of its bowl. We saved the fish once, thinking it was a cry for help. He suceeded the next time.
9. When I was in 4th grade I beat up David Michelof. It was great.
10. I once witnessed the purchase of crack cocaine... it was the weirdest thing ever.
11. I am terrified of parots. and large birds in general.
12. If I don't hear a question, I almost always answer "yes" hoping it's the right choice.
13. My father died this year- and I still don't know how I feel about it.
14. I once weighed 180lbs. I was a big one.
15. I never drank until my senior year of high school when Shannon got me drunk and we slept in the same twin bed. Even though I had two in my room. Nothing happened.
16. I refuse to date anyone smaller than I am. It made me feel like an elephant.
17. I lost my virginity at age 19, even though I dated the same boy all through high school.
18. I hate going to the dentist. And the gynecologist. Both for different reasons though.
19. Pizza is my ultimately favorite food.
20. I hate salmon, but I will always eat it if it's in sushi or sashimi.
21. I have no idea what my natural hair color is. I can only guess brown. I have been dying it since the 7th grade.
22. I once had a crush on a man who only dated Asian women and I actually bought those chopsticks you put in your hair. We never dated.
23. I love Karaoke.
24. I used to shoplift rocks when I was a kid. But then I would feel so guilty I would throw them away when I got home.
25. I love barbecue sauce. LOVE it.
26. I tried to be a vegitarian, but it's only lasted for a day.
27. I was raised a Lutheran, but probably identify more as a Buddhist or Muslim.
28. I was born in Northern Ireland and my family still lives there.
29. I used to work at a small grocery store, known for it's meat sales and I would leave covered in blood. This is also the same time I was vegitarian.
30. I love being in love.
31. In grade school I used to want to be diabetic. I don't know why.
32. I think being Greek would be cool. Even though Cassie assures me it's not.
33. I have never seen the movie "Ghost."
34. In high school we all used to prank call a number that spelled "Meatbar." He eventually began trying to trace the calls, so we had to move it to pay phones only. I always wondered what happened to Meatbar.
35. I met my father once, when I was 18. And it was less emotional than I thought. Actually to be honest, it was not emotional at all.
36. I cried- A LOT- when Dawson's Creek went off the air.
37. I love nothing more than watching Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea. I have them on VHS and watch them when I don't feel well.
38. I have two wisdom teeth that have come in. I just ignore them.
39. I went to quoted "the best Dave Matthews Concert" ever at Verizon, yet recall barely any of it due to the box of wine Jimi, Mike and myself consumed.
40. I wear a 34 B bra. Sometimes C, but I think that's just PMS.
41. My grandma is my best friend.
42. I always worried that I was pregnant- before I started having sex.
43. I was a mean kid growing up- and it's true- people are mean because they are insecure.
44. I have called in sick to work, solely to stay home and drink the day away with my friends.
45. I hate the word "retarded" and yes, I hate it even when you're refering to a mentally handicapped person. It's still an ugly word.
46. The taste of vodka makes me vomit a little in my mouth.
47. I cheated through the entirity of my Latin classes in high school. So oddly it did NOT help me on my SATs.
48. I adore Dr. Phil.
49. I have been naked in front of more of my friends than I care to remember. And not in the sexual way. Just naked.
50. "Threesome" is the worst movie ever... despite how hot it sounds.
51. I have a mad purely sexual attraction to Robert Downey Junior.
52. I like both cats and dogs, but I think part of me prefers cats, except they make me sneeze.
53. I consider myself a re-born feminist!
54. I like to say I think more like a man than a woman, but I don't know if that is necessarily true.
55. I love manatees.
56. New Orleans is one of my most favorite cities I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. I'll be sad if it gets hurricaned.
57. I love changing out purses only to find that there is money in the new purse.
58. I love Fridays because restaraunts are always serving New England Clam Chowder.
59. I have been writing a book for a few years... but I refuse to let anyone read it.
60. I'm always online.
61. My dog's name is Prince Edward the Black. Josh named him. I call him Eddie.
62. Thunderstorms and fireplaces are both sexy. Combine them and BAM- that's hot.
63. I don't really like cheeseburgers... I'll eat them, but I don't particularly like them.
64. I adore cooking... and the grocery store is somewhat of a haven to me.
65. When I was in high school people said I reminded them of Meryl Streep- at the time I hated it- now I love it.
66. I was once kissed by a professor in college. It got really weird after that...
67. Peppermint Ice cream is my favorite!
68. I love high thread count sheets and down conforters and pillows.
69. There is nothing hotter than making out in the rain. This is especially true if you are submerged in water as well.
70. My boyfriend from high school is one of my favorite people in the world- even though we broke up more than I can count.
71. I love to cook- and I think I am pretty good at it.
72. The smell of Woods cologne totally gets me going!
73. When I lived in DC I was a different person than most of my friends know me as from the past.
74. I love intimacy; But I am still learning to tell the difference between intimacy and sex.
75. I had a crush on Romaine for quite a bit of time. and then I got to portray her in a play. (oh girlfriend) :)
76. I love reality television. Oh god...
77. Reviving Ophelia was the first book that spoke to me.
78. I think filming yourself having sex is a bit unsettling and I could never watch myself in the act. Good for you if you can, I just think I'd blush. And then vomit.
79. I have one brother who is handicapped.
80. I write a lot of bad poetry. I know that it's bad, but I love to write it anyway.
81. I love watching the Food Network.
82. Human Sexuality was and remains my favorite class I have ever taken.
83. I have a hard exterior, but the littlest things make me cry.
84. I hate pointy shoes.
85. The phrase "love him/her to death" is not a comforting phrase to me.
86. I am paranoid to say "i love you" first.
87. I often worry that my fiance will decide not to marry me- not sure why- but it is my reocurring dream nowadays.
88. I have always wanted a little dog... my dog weighs 65lbs.
89. "He's Just Not The Into You" is a great book that no one pays attention to.
90. I love oysters on the half shell. I however, do not think they make me any "hornier" than usual.
91. I wish I was more crafty. But I have no patience for it.
92. I love the smell of rain. Some have told me it's actually worms I am smelling. And if so, I love the smell of worms.
93. I love great food. Love it.
94. I don't really love sex or fooling around in the morning. I'm usually too tired.
95. I call people "dude" all the time.
96. Different people fall in love with me with my red hair then did with my blond hair. It's incredible.
97. I used to feel a sense of calm when I went to church. Now I just get mad.
98. I hate it when people tuck in their shirts with no belt.
99. Taco Bell used to make me happy... now it sort of makes me want to die.
100. I believe in Karma.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Groundhog's Day"How come you won't go on a date with me?" he asks.
I hold up my left hand, without even looking up from my work.
"Okay, okay, okay. How 'bout a friendly dinner?"
I shake my head, gather my papers and walk away.
This is my Ground Hog's Day scene that plays on any given work day. The UPS man comes in, asks me out, I say no and then he leaves. This man never tires of asking, even though the answer is always the same. Sometimes the conversation lasts longer...
"Would you set me up with one of your friends?" he asks, referencing to the array of pictures I have on my desk of my young and beautiful friends. I smile.
"They'd eat you alive, Tom."
And it's true.
"What about you?" he winks. I hate winks. "If you were single."
"I'd still say no." I laugh, even though I'm not kidding, a habit I picked up from my grandmother. Smile when you're breaking their hearts- makes it sting more.
"You're just saying that because you can't tell me the truth." he winks again. I wonder if he has a twitch. "It's just dinner. A burger, some fries, maybe a beer."
"Then I'd definitely say no. I'm not a burger kind of girl."
This is usually when I walk away. He always laughs and walks out, as if this is a game of cat and mouse. Little does he know I am in no way a mouse and somehow the analogy of cat and tiger doesn't seem as appealing to most men I know. I certainly can't imagine that Tom-I-love-to-wink-UPS man would be interested in that sort of game.
He treats me like a woman.
Yes, I am aware I am a woman, thank you, before you even say it.
But just because I have breasts and a vagina doesn't mean every Tom, Dick (yes I'm calling you that) or Harry (ick) gets to experience either one of them. I feel violated by his eyes. I feel raped in his thoughts.
And I would never meet him for a date, single or taken. On a sidenote if I were trying to woo a woman with a significant other, I would never suggest a meeting for burgers and beer. A good bottle of anything-but-merlot and oysters rockefeller? Tom might have had a date. But then I'd have to endure him all night, and no amount of wine, no matter how good a year it was, can make that bearable. Instead I am destined to repeat this performance tomorrow.
and the day after that.
and the day after that.
Groundhog's day. what a bitch.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Sex and CornfieldsI don't have sex in cornfields.
My friend is starting an article called "Sex in the Cornfields." It is about young people's sexual experiences here in Indiana. I like the idea. I love the thought of making sex something that is not taboo, but open and easily talked about. But the title got me thinking...
Sex in the cornfields.
Who has sex in cornfields?
You might point at right now that I live in Indiana... the state of corn. Just because I am from Indiana does not mean I have ever had sex in a cornfield. There is not even a cornfield by my house. In fact, I am not sure how to get to the nearest cornfield. Wait, that is a lie. 2 years ago on Halloween I went to a haunted cornfield. I remember this because I was peeing when a hayride drove by (I was drunk- get over it) and I got so nervous I fell on my face in the corn. But other than that, I don't know where another corn field is, nor could I return to the Halloween one seeing as how I was intoxicated. I do know they have corn at the grocery store. And I have had sex there.
That was a lie. Just for shock value. I apologize.
I did not have sex in the grocery. I have made out in the freezer of a grocery store though. But sex there was never all that appealing.
I should also note that I worked at said grocery store while in high school.
But now I am off of the subject thinking about sex in grocery stores, rather than corn fields, which is what this entire entry is about in the first place.
Who does that?
I suppose if you were a farm kid with other farm kids and you had no other place to have sex but the cornfield, then the cornfield it is. But still... why not the hay stack? (Do people actually still have hay stacks?). Corn would seem most uncomfortable, but hay... that could be hot.
I always had this fantasy about spending the night in a hayloft. When I was a kid I used beg my parents to build one in our backyard. My parents never gave in. But, oh, the memories that could have been made if they had just said yes.
Instead, we had a pool and a hot tub, which provided sufficient memories, but none so unique as a loft of hay in which to roll.
This is my most random of entries as of late... but if you are reading this and you have had sex in a cornfield, let me know. I find it most intriguing.
Friday, May 13, 2005
The Road Less TraveledI just vomited in the bathroom.
The feeling in my stomach of the chicken fajitas doing the tango was overwhelming and I knew it was going to happen. I held out as long as I could. Waited until everyone else had gone to lunch and then bam- chicken fajita out, face washed, what's for lunch now?
Sorry if that was too graphic, but I have more vomit stories than Angelina Jolie has weird sexual experiences. Although I am fairly certain that more people would prefer to hear her stories than mine. But, unless Angelina has a blog (and if she does- please send me the link) you are stuck with me. And "stuck with me" means- vomit stories.
I first tried on bulimia at the ripe old age of 13. Always having battled my weight through my life I was desperate to find a way to shed the poundage that just wasn't me. I was a star. A beautiful, sexy, popular, talented and outgoing star. But somehow that star got lost in a fat suit and I was eager to shed it and "me" to reveal my true self. I would diet and excercise so sporatically it did little good. Instead I ballooned. I hated who I was. In elementary school I had been well liked, cute, funny- I was "in." Then junior high hit, along with the fat suit and suddenly I was "out." What happened? Did I become less funny? I still told joke and I kept the classes rolling. I pushed it until I would get sent to the principals office. The principals office! Come on! That had to make me cool!
I dressed as trendy as my chubby little body could, branding myself with labels: Abercrombie, GAP, Bannana Republic... combine this with my outgoing personality, wit and highlighted hair, I had to be cool again, right?
I was not cool. Looking back, it was junior high. I don't think there was anyone who survivored without battle scars. But at the time I knew what it was.
That had to be it! I had solved the mystery. And being the proactive girl that I am, I was ready to solve it and regain my place in the social hierarchy. I went to heath class, determined I would learn a way to lose the weight. That's when they showed the movie. You know what one I mean. Some after school special with Tracy Gold showing the effects of an eating disorder.
"Gross!" squeeled the girls when the movie talked about her vomiting after meals.
"She's sick!" said the boy next to me, when it showed her anorexic body.
Everyone else saw the effects of a terrible disease.
I saw a solution.
It was then that I chose my path. I took the road less traveled by, Mr. Frost, and that truly has made all the difference. That fat little girl made a choice for me that day that will haunt me for the rest of my life. This is why I say that the fat girl lives inside of me. It is her that makes me think of food, hate myself for it, eat it, purge it, stop purging, stop eating, crave, and begin the cycle over again. My true self emerged that day in health class.
I have gained and lost more weight than imaginable. I've been through counseling twice. Eleven years have gone by since that fateful day and still my ED is at the center of my thoughts every day. I think about food like Eve thought about the apple. And then I think about avoiding it even more than that.
I have tried multiple times in my life to "be healthy." To eat right, excercise, not starve myself, and certainly not purge what little I do eat. When I did this before I ballooned up to 180lbs. On my 5'6'' frame that is still a fat girl. I look at old pictures from college. Me and my smiling friends- these slight, beautiful creatures from my memories. Their bodies tiny, curvy, tight, muscular and everything I had ever wanted to be. And then I look at me. I hate those pictures. It's like watching an elephant trying to fit in with these unicorns.
What's sad is I look at me now. If I tip the scales at 120 now it is a "fat day." Over 6o pounds have melted from me and still I feel like a hippo when I put on my size "I think they're lying because I am not this small" pants. I feel like a fat girl, I'm just trapped in the body of a thin one.
Mandi asked me once if there was anything I'd change about myself as we stared at ourselves in a mirror.
I pointed to my reflection.
"I'd change what's in that mirror!" I laughed. She shook her head. "You know what I'd change about you?"
"What?" I asked, not knowing if I wanted to hear it.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Anonomous Posts and ACAll of the air conditioning vents in my car face me.
I had never really thought about it until I was headed out for my lunch trip to Cingular Wireless (don't get me started on those rat bastards right now). The car was hot- filled with sticky sunshine and muggy spring. I flip the AC on full blast and sit, waiting for it to somehow quell the overheating of my body. No luck. I still feel hot. It doesn't cool down fast enough for me. And so I go to turn more air vents towards my drivers seat.
That's when I realized that all of the vents face me.
And then the anonymous blogger's post from yesterday entered my mind. "You have got to be one of the most self involved people I've ever known."
When I first read this I wanted to lash back. When I sleep at night visions of banter and sarcasm dance in my head, so throwing a little back at this anonymous asshole, er, blogger would not be much of an issue. But as I sat in the car I realized anonymous was right. I am a bit self involved.
But aren't we all?
Don't we all want what's best for ourselves? It goes back to my theory that no good deed is totally selfless. We all get something out of it. I know all of you in cyberspace are probably going to bitch and moan, hatemailing me with all of your charity and do gooding ways. My theory in no way makes you a bad person. I'm just saying everything is a little selfish. You give to charity, walk away feeling good that you have helped someone else; you got something out of it. You're a big brother or a big sister helping a child who needs a role model. That's commendable- but you have to admit you feel good about it, as you should, but it does help feed your soul. And that's something we all strive to do. Just as writing feeds mine.
The point is, who isn't a little bit selfish? And maybe I might come across as a bit more selfish than the other blogs you read. But ask yourself- then why do you read mine?
I don't expect people to agree with everything I say. I don't expect everyone to like me (although I don't know why they wouldn't... I think I'm great). But I refuse to censor myself because what I have to say might not always jive with society or my friends or even you, dear reader.
I love for people to read my blog. I love to hear feedback. I'm not trying to alienate any old readers or perhaps new ones who have stumbled upon this most unentertaining vent (I promise my next entry will be as spicey as the dinner date I had last night!).
So please. Enjoy. Come again. But if you don't like what I have to say... don't let the door hit you on the way out.
Oh. And can you please point your air conditioning vent towards me? I'm hot.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Just Aiight For MeI read this post while surfing a friend of a friends blog. Found it interesting and decided to do one myself.
Just Aiight For Me
List five things that people in your circle of friends or peer group are wild about, but you can’t really understand the fuss over. To use the words of Caesar (from History of the World Part I), “Nice. Nice. Not thrilling . . . but nice.”
1. American Idol. I know this makes me the anti-christ (and if you don't think that now, mary full of grace, keep reading), but in the words of Randy Jackson- "That's just aiight for me." The show used to be a must see. The one I taped while at rehearsal to view at a later time with the members of the Snatch Patch. Clinging to Robbie's arm while AJ said "Oh. My. God. Wait until you see this one!" was a weekly ritual that I cherished (I still treasure the memories to this day). Cuddling with EO while Cassie and Mike told us to shut the hell up while Kelly Clarkson dominated the screen. This was American Idol. I certainly know viewing it alone has less appeal than viewing it with the Patch, but still. Is this the best we got, America? At least this season there are still 3 entertaining people on. But I mean, did we really choose an American Idol who released a song called "Baby Mama"? We did indeed, America. We did indeed.
2. Leonardo DiCaprio. I find him unattractive first of all, but I feel like I am the only person on the planet- male or female- who shares this sentiment. Although I enjoy his films, he, by no means, has ever impressed me as the amazing actor he is touted as being. He mostly just annoys me. I liked him in Titanic though. You know, the part where he died...
3. Burgers and Fries. We've worked all week. We decide to get together for dinner. I'm thinking seafood, glass of wine, maybe a cosmo, decadent dessert. I hear "all I want is a big burger and fries" and the group agrees. What the fuck is up with that? Now, I'm not saying I hate the old American Standard, and if you load up a burger with everything (when I eat I forget that I have a vagina)- and I'm talking everything INCLUDING the fried onion rings- then sure, sometimes I'm game. But I would always rather have something different. Something better. And probably more expensive. So if you're on a budget, perhaps dinner with me isn't always the best choice. And if you ever ask me to dinner, please don't suggest a burger joint. I'd rather stay home and cook. You can come too. But I'm not making burgers.
4. Church. Please don't hate mail me. You love Jesus- got it. That's clear and good for you. But not everyone does. And maybe this makes me a bad person, but Christianity and I are just not that tight. And frankly, I'm pretty okay with that. Talk to me about other religions and know something about them. And if you can't at least do that- please don't talk to me about yours.
5. Sex in a public place. Whenever my friends and I get together, the subject of sex always comes up. And then we always have to rehash the crazy stories. The wild, insane, kinky shit that our mothers refuse to believe we would do in a million years. (Sorry mom). And this brings me to Sex in Public. Eh. I have never enjoyed the thought of being caught with my pants around my ankles. It reminds me of having sex in my parents house, worried they'll hear or, worse, walk in. Sex is sex. I feel like if it's bad in private it's probably bad in public and no amount of "spicing up" will fix that.
Monday, May 09, 2005
The Chocolate CakeThere is a battle raging in my office right now. Not of words, brawn or even wits. A battle of self control. A war between the ladies who lunch and a chocolate cake.
At most offices, especially those where prominently only women work, food becomes a center piece of the day. Someone bakes over the weekend and thus brings in a treat for the co-workers. A new recipe is tried out and brought in to be sampled by the mouths of the office. A quick morning stop off for coffee prompts the pick up of a dozen donuts. A special treat to give an excuse to sit around, talking, eating and enjoying a well deserved caloric binge.
The above is not my office.
We do not bring in treats. When clients buy us food it is destined to sit until someone throws it out or takes it home. It's offerred to everyone: "Go get a cookie" "take some chocolates home to your husband" "Isn't anyone going to have one of these?". But everyone, down the line, refuses.
At our office we talk about spin class. Running at lunch. Salads for dinner. And more often than not, we talk about the one who gave in. The one that the temptation was too much to handle.
And 99.9% of the time that one person. Is me.
I try to say no. Just say no, right DARE officer? My office is Peer Pressure Central. Stay healthy. Eat greens. No refined sugars. Work out. DON'T EAT THE CAKE. However, I was always taught not to fall prey to peer pressure.
No one told the new girl the unspoken rules here. Don't bring food in- we won't eat it. Woman after woman walk into the kitchen. They stop and look at the enemy, then throw a sneer in the direction of the new girl, grab their coffee and walk out. Some throw one more glace back, just to let the cake know that they'll be back. Or perhaps to schedule a late afternoon rendevous in the pirvacy of her office.
So now I sit. One eye on my computer and one on that damned chocolate goddess. I don't know how long I can avoid a confrontation. But I do know one thing- that gooey bitch is going down. Maybe not now, maybe not even in an hour. But some time today the cake has a date with destiny.
For now I'm just waiting to see who will cut the first piece.
A Portrait of YouI had a dream about you last night.
I dreamt that we were swimming in an ocean
made up of the tears
collected from dreams such
I held your hand, climbed onto your back
and closed my eyes,
waiting for you to carry me to solid ground again.
Instead you dove under the water and
You swam away,
in the general direction of Assumed Goodbye.
I wanted to call out to you,
but I had no words.
So I swam.
In the general direction of Lost Without You.
Startled and awake, I started to cry.
Painting the story of my lonliness
with my mascara-ed eyes and my watercolored tears
on the canvas of my pillow.
And when I looked at what I'd drawn
it was a portrait of you.
Friday, May 06, 2005
the wantsI have no tolerance.
No, I don't mean for alcohol, I can tolerate that just fine. In fact, that sounds wonderful, get me a drink right now.
No, when I say no tolerance I am referring to people. I feel bad at how quickly someone can go from polite co-worker to annoying the fuck out of me. Does this make me a bad person? No, not bad, selfish perhaps...
I fully admit to being a selfish person. I want people around to talk to me when I am in the mood to converse. I want them to leave me alone when I am not.
I want a lover to pay 100% of his attention to me at all times. Unless I am not in the mood for that.
I want a boss who gives me a paycheck, but allows me to come and go as I please. So long as I get my work done, why do I need to be in the office for 8 hours a day? In fact, I want a boss who doesn't care if I get my work done or not.
I want a dog who lays nicely beside me without trying to bite me, jump on me or bother me in any way. I want a dog who wants to play when I want to play, but who understands when I am not in the mood anymore. Actually, I want that in a lover as well.
I want friends who want to do exactly what I want to do all of the time. Who want to leave when I want to leave and not a moment earlier or later. Oh. And they should be less attractive than me too. But still beautiful of course.
I want a body that doesn't lump, sag or flab as I get older. I also want to be able to eat whatever I want.
I want a masseuse on call at all times.
I want flowers delivered to my work. And they should be from Dean Cain. Just because.
I want a house with an ocean on one side, mountains on the other and a deck.
I want all the birds to drop dead. Except doves. I find them comforting. They may live.
I want to cook like Emeril. Or have him in my kitchen to cook for me at all times. Josh may also order from him. Or even you, reader, if you are so lucky as to be at our beachfront, mountainous decked out house.
I want to have the closet that Cher has in Clueless. All of the clothes in it should be a perfect size 2.
I want to be a perfect size 2.
I want a woman in the white house. She should be a democrat as well.
But most of all, right now, I want my co-worker to go back to her office, shut the door and remain there until 5:30.
That, and a piece of pizza. But I always want that.
I know the world does not revolve around me, but what a world it would be if it did.
The Fat GirlMen. Security. Sex. Money. Babies.
Our obsessions. Each us of has one. That thing that invades our minds at any given moment of the day. A temptation far greater than even Diane Lane felt in "Unfaithful." The other man. Or woman. Whichever you prefer.My own affair is with food. This love/hate relationship has existed as far as I can remember. It has seen me through heartache, celebration, boredom and intoxication. It has nurished my body and corrupted my mind. Food is my passion and my enemy. Taunting me through the day until I finally give in to my desire.
Food is almost better than sex. Almost. Okay, food is almost better than Good sex. It is definitely better than mediocre-but-he-almost-got-me-there sex. And, frankly, I would rather patron a fabulous restaurant than lay in missionary, refusing to fake it, for the entire 10 seconds of bad sex. Give me a loaf of fresh baked bread and a vibrator, thank you, good night, get out.
I diet all the time. Avoiding foods I love like I avoid 465 during rush hour. I paw through menus during my free time, thinking about what I would order, "if I was eating that." I take at least 20 minutes to order at dinner, making sure I have read every item and every discription- I don't want to make a mistake. Don't want to waste my eating on something that is sub par.
In my dieting and obsessing, I fall short of perfection 90% of the time. It's like going out drinking with the "but he's just a friend now" friend. No matter how hard you might try to avoid the inevitable- it happens. A few drinks and laughs and then somehow it becomes a good idea to go back to his place for another glass of wine. Or, in my case, an order of BW3 chicken wings.
When alcohol enters the mix, all rules are off. Foods that are truly not appealing suddenly become decadent. A turkey sandwich becomes heaven and don't get my started on a bowl of Lucky Charms. I have beer goggles for food. All the while knowing that "I will be better tomorrow." Tomorrow is hungover and therefore, deserving of a McDonalds bacon, egg and cheese biscuit and damn did they forget my hashbrown?! Suddenly my jeans are tighter, my stomach loose instead of tone and my face has a disgusting fullness to it. And I remember that I, like an alcoholic to alcohol, have to learn to avoid food or else I turn into... the fat girl.
The fat girl is who I am inside. Like Princess Fiona in Shrek, I harbor an ugliness inside of me, all decked out in flab and fat and extra Ranch dressing please. The fat girl is always there to remind me that one more fry could mean a trip to Lane Bryant. And although I have grown into a slim woman, the fat girl is the real me.
Please spare me all of your "but that's not what you are now"s. The truth is the truth. Although I might appear slim on the outside, isn't it what's on the inside that counts? Or does this phrase only apply to homely girls who's mothers are trying to make them feel better? Sort of like all the "what's meant to happen will happen"s, but don't get my started on those.
I will always be the fat girl. I have spent all my life trying to rid myself of her, trying to be skinny and stuff her back down in her bowl of ice cream (with extra whipped cream). But I am the fat girl. She is where I get my humor. She is from where I draw my compassion. She is the voice inside me that makes me stand up for the underdog. The other fat kids.
No matter how I look on the outside, the fat girl will always be a part of my life. And try as I might to keep her from rearing her chubby face again, I don't know that I can forever keep her away from her true love: food. And that has to be okay, because it's the way it is. But for now I think I will end this article with that.
Besides, it's almost lunch time.
Two Kinds of Ice Cream"Why don't you write about happy things?" she asked me.
"What? Like rainbows and puppies?" I laugh.
"I just feel like I don't know you when I read your writing. You just don't sound very happy."
This interaction has prompted this entry: perhaps I need to clarify myself...I am not an unhappy person. I am however not a happy person either.
To me, happiness is not a personality trait. With the exception of say, Mary Steffel who I think was happy every time I saw her from the 6th grade until high school graduation, I find very few people who identify themselves with happiness. Happiness is just one of the variety of emotions that we derive from experiences. And I find happiness every day.
Happiness emerges in moments of time. In conversations with old friends. In the first bite of my appetizer at Emmerils in New Orleans. In riding in my jeep on a much anticipated spring day. Happiness practically knocks me over when Josh kisses me.
I experience happiness every day. I also experience sadness, passion, anxiety, giddiness, insecurity, fulfillment and a million other emotions in between. I am open to feelings and I allow them to flow freely from my heart, to my head and finally out through my fingertips (and quite often my tear ducts as well).
And this is how I live. Constantly experiencing, always feeling... and loving every minute of it.
I Said... I Meant...I said "Okay... good night." even added a cute smiley face.
I meant "Please don't stop talking to me."
and now I sit here in my living room with a glass of wine hoping it will make me pass out because I feel like I've just been run over by a bus.
Why don't I say what I mean? Why? Because I don't want to be needy. I want to be needed but not needy. I want to be loved but not dependent. I want to be talking to fiance and not sitting here watching my tears mix with cheap chardonnay.
I feel vunerable right now. Out there and open. Like a child who can't figure out how to redress herself in the bathroom so she must walk out into her dance class, naked. (trust me, I know how this feels- I was that child).
I'm not a mess. I am not an emotional roller coaster. I'm really not. I am also not that girl who is completely unglued and denying that she is a nutcase. I know nutcases. I am not one.
I'm doing this soul searching, trying to make myself one again. Trying to make myself a strong, secure and together woman and not just for Josh. For me. But in this journey to "wholeness" I continue to run into these emotional potholes that catch me off guard every time.
I hate my gut reactions when I feel threatened. To become aloof at the first hint of a possible rejection. Bam! Smack! Passive aggressive Whap! Guess I showed... no one.
I despise my insecurities. I hate them more than I hate video games, or the taste of liver. I hate knowing that they push people away from me. I hate the fact that I have a wall up so high that it generally puts people off before they even try to climb it. And when they do, I often lay a few more bricks on, just for good measure. I worry that, for this reason, the man I love so desperately it brings tears to my eyes as I write this, might someday decide that loving me is just too hard. I worry even more that expressing these fears only pushes him farther away than any continents could seperate us.
I am hoping confronting these ghosts from my past will make me new. I am depending on my own strength because, for once, I have no lover here to lean on. I'm doing this on my own, which through my life has been the only lover I could totally trust- and even I've let myself down a few times. And if I can't depend on me, how can I ever know I can depend on someone else?
How? I can't. I can't know. There are no "for sures" in life. No absolutes. There is only trust and hope. And for once I am learning to embrace them.